#and yes i am aware of the irony that i put all that effort to draw this but STILL didnt draw Ron lol

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

What happened to Ron?

Ron is around! I just...haven't gotten around to drawing him? lol

But wouldn't it be funny if I accidently doomed him by narrative, and whenever Kim get to work with any HoM-ies, he is out and busy.

[imtrashraccoon]

This one turned out a bit different than I had planned but I think it's better. Yes, Scar is a good cook since he's had at least ten years to learn...

@starlikeswomen

First, Previous, & Next Day

Chapter 3: I Guess We're Roommates??

Word Count: 885

You woke up to an amazing smell. Were you dreaming? It had been ages since you had woken up like this. Thankfully, you had enough awareness to put on some actual clothes before venturing into the kitchen to investigate.

Scar was standing by the stove, busy flipping pancakes and transferring cooked ones onto a plate on the counter. He had rolled up his sleeves and his gloves were sitting on the table where he'd taken to sitting. This meant you got a good view of how sharp the tips of his phalanges were and the numerous little cracks in his bones. You also noticed that he was wearing the "Kiss The Cook" apron you had been gifted years ago as a joke.

Your footsteps must've given you away because he suddenly turned to look at you. His eye sockets widened ever so slightly and he made a sound of clearing his throat.

"My Apologies, Did I Wake You Up?"

You nodded, "Yeah, your cooking smelled too good to ignore I guess."

He grimaced slightly and scratched at his cervical vertebrae. "I Did Not Mean To Disturb You; I Am Just Used To Getting Up With The Sun."

"It's alright, really. If you want to get up early, feel free," you responded. "My sleep schedule is kind of all over the place but Pickle usually makes for a good alarm clock if I stay in bed too long."

"That Seems To Be A Common Characteristic With Owning Birds," he commented while bringing the pancakes to the table.

You weren't sure if that was a hint of irony in his voice or if he was speaking from experience. Maybe you'd ask about it later but for now, you wanted to enjoy breakfast together. Scar carefully folded the apron and set it on the counter. After putting his gloves back on, he joined you at the table.

The pancakes tasted even better than you'd been expecting. Not only were they super fluffy, but they also didn't fall apart before you managed to get them in your mouth. What you hadn't been expecting was how they seemed to literally melt in your mouth before you could even swallow.

Your surprise must've been evident because the corners of Scar's permanent sneer twitched and he quickly covered his mouth in an effort to muffle his snickers.

"How did you...?" you started to question.

"Magic." He chuckled quietly before adding, "I Did Not Expect You To Be So Surprised, Since I Know You Have Had Monster Food Before."

"I just wasn't expecting it, okay?" you huffed. "You're a really good cook."

Your compliment definitely pleased him if the way he squared his shoulders back was any indication. "Thank You, Human."

"No, seriously. You could probably become a professional chef or even open your own restaurant with your skills."

He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe You Are Right... I Had Not Considered The Idea Before."

You nodded before returning to your food. It was actually kind of amusing how easily affected he was by your flattery. Maybe you'd make a point about complimenting him more? He looked good when he was happy and it only made you want to do more to see him smile again.

"Maybe my opinion doesn't mean much since I'm a decent cook at best, but..."

He tilted his skull and gave you a curious look.

You did your best to keep a straight face before continuing, "I could kiss you, your cooking is that good."

For a moment, Scar seemed utterly bewildered. You could almost see the gears turning in his head as he tried to figure out if you were serious or just pulling his leg. At one point, his eyelights flickered to the apron that he'd left one the counter and that was when you broke.

You clamped a hand over your mouth in a futile effort to keep your laughter contained. That had been such a corny thing to say and the look on his face was absolutely priceless.

His cheekbones turned a bright scarlet colour when he realized that you had been teasing and he quickly looked away. He almost looked like he wanted to crawl into a ball and disappear, which made you start to feel bad.

You frowned and leaned closer to him. "Hey. I'm sorry, that was too far..."

Scar stayed silent and still couldn't seem to look at you.

"I have a weird sense of humour sometimes but that's no excuse for making you uncomfortable."

"It Is Fine." He took a deep breath in an effort to compose himself again.

You gave him a small smile. "I wasn't joking about how much I like your cooking though. You're very good and I don't mind if you want to use anything of mine, okay?"

He studied you for a moment before huffing, seemingly returning to his usual self. Crossing his arms over his ribcage, he leaned back in his chair with a slight smirk.

"Just Be Careful What You Joke About, Human."

You felt a shiver run down your spine at how his voice had taken on a gravely tone.

"Or Else You May End Up Eating Your Words One Of These Days..."

Well, now it was your turn to blush. Was that a threat or was he teasing you now?

[snapeaddict]

Snapetober Day 2 - Harvest

He Deserved Better AU – de-aged headcanon (Severus is de-aged after the war and becomes the ward of Albus and Minerva)

As always courtesy to @mmad-lover for being the brain behind this AU and also for giving me this prompt ;)

October, 1998

To bring Severus here – it was very special. To come here had been their very first tradition, many years ago, when the boy had been 22 and their newest teacher still: he had misery about him, and gloom, and melancholy. Watching him pass through a corridor, Albus had let his gaze linger on the apple trees outside and formed the idea instantly.

He had lied to the boy, of course. He had told him it was a tradition, that Horace usually did the first harvest of the year with him, that the new Potion Master had to carry the torch; that no one wanted to accompany him, and that he needed the help of someone younger and stronger.

“With all due respect, headmaster, I am sure you of all people can cast a simple summoning charm.”

“But apples need to be picked by hand, Severus! They are picked by hands by people on ladders, and put in beautiful baskets. They do not taste as good if magic has been used to gather them.”

“You know that I know this is incorrect”, Severus had muttered, looking away. “But I will accompany you, naturally… if you so wish.”

“Perfect! Meet me at the entrance at 2 this Saturday, my boy. And bring a basket!”

It had been the first time Severus had not behaved completely submissively – the first time he had directed a hint of irony at Albus’ expense.

The headmaster had thoroughly enjoyed it.

He looked down at the little boy who was holding his hand. Severus had rosy cheeks, and was watching their surroundings with unconcealed delight: his eyes were sparkling in the low autumnal sun. That child was so different from the man who had accompanied him here, on that day of October, 1982.

He was so full of life.

“Now, Severus”, Albus spoke, halting their steps, “we will work on those trees over there, because they have very low branches. You can climb on the stools I brought, but you must always wait for me. Is that alright?”

The boy nodded, not letting go of his hand. Minerva had dressed him in a gorgeous crimson coat. He looked as if he were a permanent resident of the orchard, matching its numerous apples to perfection. Minerva had insisted that they spend some time together, alone. The boy wanted it, she had said. She had not understood why Albus was so reluctant to comply. She was already making an effort, entrusting him with Severus, and had not taken his hesitation well at all.

Albus supposed she had thought he did not want to spend time with the boy, just as she must have felt he was unwilling to go against her wishes. But the truth was, he was merely scared. They were alone – he was the only one in charge. And his charge was young, and fragile, and he had hurt him before; yes, something as simple as apple picking could bear a heavy emotional weight.

Gently, Albus pulled Severus up and put him on the nearest stool. The boy clapped his hand in delight. He summoned several baskets that landed at their feet, and the harvest began.

Severus loved every second of it. He had an eye and instinctively went for the perfectly ripe apples, leaving alone those that would only need a day more to reach their full potential; he giggled when Albus knocked down an entire basket and immediately proposed to pick the apples up, fully aware that his guardian’s back would be thankful to be left to rest, and that for some reason, this activity should be carried from start to finish without magic. Then he stated that the branch they had been working on offered no more suitable apples, and he pointed to the one above; nodding approvingly, Albus made him come off the stool and went to fetch a special stick that was used to bend the higher branches.

But at the same moment a loud, watery noise echoed through the castle grounds, surprising them both. Albus heard a gasp, he turned back in Severus' direction: the boy was on top of the branch they had meant to tackle.

He froze. He did not say a word. He could not comprehend what had just happened, how the boy could have been standing on the grass one second and be in the tree the next. The words he had meant to say – it’s alright, Severus, it is just the giant squid taking a dive – died in his throat. His wrinkled face was drained of all colour.

He barely had the time to reach for his wand when the boy, losing balance, abruptly fell to the ground.

He gasped and started running – as he ran, he felt his lungs drained of all oxygen. A howler rose from the collapsed form of the child on the ground, and he felt adrenaline rush through his veins, stronger than the shock, stronger even than the fear. He knelt next to Severus, out of breath.

The little boy was crying, though his sobs were irregular. They almost sounded like he was choking – his face, too, was ghostly white. Gently, Albus put him in a kneeling position, lowering him against his chest in a protective embrace.

“I’m here, Severus, I’m here, it’s alright – let me see – show me – does it hurt? Yes? Here?”

It was his wrist. It had to be sprained or broken, and he suspected the latter, for its angle was not quite right.

Watching the child’s pale face and his injured arm, Albus started to panic.

It was pure panic, one he had not felt in years, the kind that deprived one of all rational senses and skills: he kept nursing the child instead of casting a simple immobilising spell on his wrist to avoid further injury; he rocked them both back and forth compulsively. Still, using wandless magic, a leniens was cast on Severus’ injury, reducing the intensity of his pain. This was done without any conscious thought on the older man’s part.

Albus had brought down the two most powerful wizards of the century; he was the mastermind behind Voldemort’s downfall and the most gifted wizard of his generation. But a crying child – he didn’t know what to do with a crying child, especially a child that was crying because of his own carelessness. His heart could not bear it.

“It’s alright, Severus, it’s alright, don’t cry, it’s alright… It’s alright dear boy, I promise, it’s alright…”

And he started crying, and his whole body was trembling, blood was beating in his temples. He was blinded by the tears, but he didn’t take notice of them, taking the blurriness for granted or perhaps not registering it at all.

And he rocked the child back and forth, back and forth.

He did not really know what happened, or how long had passed, but the next moment, a tiny voice rose below him, brutally calling him back to the land of the cognizant. He looked down. Severus was watching him with a sort of gravity, his black eyes still wet but the pain on his face long gone.

“You… are not good at this”, he whispered with slight contempt, very much in the manner of his older self.

There was a pause, a long one.

Then at long last Albus burst out laughing, tears running still, cradling Severus. Laughter or sobs, he was not sure himself; but, when he could speak again, he simply murmured:

“You are right, Severus. I am very bad at this.”

-

Severus baked his first apple pie with an arm in a cast, and they called it the Pie of the Braves. They ate it as a celebration of his first magical outburst.

But that night, also, Albus collapsed into Minerva’s arms: and she discovered that for all his mightiness, Albus Dumbledore could be brought to his knees by the cries of a child.

[doccywhomst]

The thing is, the best change we can tangibly achieve as individuals is to engage in our local communities. In our current reality outside of voting and protesting (which unfortunately might not change anything at all realistically because it goes against the interests of people in power), engaging in making our local community better is what best we can actually do to make the world better as individuals. But thats not 'sexy' or instagramable, bc even that is hard and not necessary tangible work in the grand scheme. What we can all best do is volunteer in food banks, shelters, run down racists and queerphobes out of our neighborhoods, set up a community gardens and so on.

We the people, unfortunately don't have social or monetary power to change all that we wish. Revolution is not achievable in a way that matters as we speak. Making a single persons life better might not seem like a lot, it might not even be a lot actually, but its what we can do.

Raging on on social media might feel good, but I have lost the fire for it, and I don't mean looking away from the awful things that are going on, we should all be aware of what and who is perpetuating genocid, war and destruction. But what we can DO, its not just rting and rbing. sorry this is long, I just mean, I feel you.

yes to literally all of this. i am begging people to put down their phones and help people in real life. most people don’t have the time or money to do volunteering work, so they replace their actions with words and post up a storm on social media, but that frankly does jack shit. it gives people an ego boost for doing literally nothing, and draws effort away from making real impacts: working with your community, donating small amounts, speaking out in public, and performing selfless (often thankless) acts of kindness.

social media is great at drawing awareness to social issues, but most tangible issues are directly tied to economic and resource inequality. you can’t house and feed and clothe people by making random (probably also poor) people feel guilty on instagram. it’s a well-intentioned but hollow gesture that does more harm than good, & we all know who that ego boost really benefits (the poster, and the multibillion dollar app they can’t seem to stop scrolling on. oh the irony. the first time i saw one of those self-congratulatory “me giving food to homeless people” videos i knew we were doomed)

social media activism seemed punk when tweens were on facebook, but adults can do better irl. reminder that the butterfly effect starts with you, and your actions can improve the lives of others.

[anonthenullifier]

hi!! saw you were posting recently and i was wondering if you could write something about the avengers having some kind of team-building sports/game day, but wanda and vis are on different teams but help each-other covertly until their team mates start to notice?? just something fluffy+ fun+ team centric, love your writing!!

(bonus points for wanda in a sports outfit for the girlies <3)

Hey! Sure thing! I hope you enjoy it 😊

This is also available on AO3.

****

The jaunty rendition of Take Me Out to the Ballgame serves as a backdrop to a less than jolly team meeting in the locker room. “You,” Tony throws his glove on the bench, finger jabbing towards Vision’s chest, “need to get a handle on yourself.”

Vision glances to the faces of his teammates, Natasha glaring, Rhodes slowly shaking his head, T’Challa looking regal in his disappointment, and Peter is off in the corner, unbothered and talking to the younger recruits of the Avengers. “I am not certain what you mean.”

Denial probably wasn’t the best course, Tony’s finger now actually pushing into Vision’s chest between two of the buttons of his Team Iron Man jersey. “We have video evidence.”

“Of what?”

“Collusion.” Natasha says it as if it’s the same as a war crime committed by one of their more nefarious foes. “Fraternizing and scheming with the enemy.”

Tony snaps, Peter immediately backflipping from the bench and passing his phone to the billionaire. “Here you go, Mr. Stark.” 

“Thank you, my new favorite adopted, but not legally, son.” 

“Sweet!” Peter swings back to the bench. 

During that whole emotionally manipulative exchange Tony doesn’t break eye contact with Vision. “No collusion huh?” The eye contact intensifies as Tony holds up the phone. “Then what’s this?”

On the screen plays a video of one of Wanda’s more impressive hits of the day, a fly ball out to deep center field. Vision rises into the air but fails to catch the ball, granting her a triple.  “I missed a catch.” Of all the things he’s done in this game, this is one of the more subtle and easily defensible, so if it is all they have, things are not so dire. “I do apologize but it was not the only error from our team.”

“Right.”  Tony pinches his fingers and then pulls them across the screen, zooming in and replaying the video, this time the only thing they can see is Vision’s glove and the way the ball manages to go right through the middle of it. “And I suppose your glove just happened to phase?”

Sometimes the ever improving technology of phones is a true bane to society. Yes, Vision is aware of the irony given the advanced piece of technology that is his entire being. Still, it is perturbing. “It must have been my nerves. I do tend to fluctuate in density when uncertain.” It’s years of living amongst humans that even allows Vision to sound so nonchalant right now while his mind is whirring with anxiety as their, what he thought was carefully crafted, plan falls apart all thanks to a damn phone. “I will not allow such a mistake to occur again.”

Tony doesn’t thank him, instead he swipes to the next video. “And the convenient overthrowing to first when Wanda’s running towards it?”

That happened once and then Vision mentally told Wanda they had to find more subtle ways to collude. “We all make mistakes. That was the only time I overthrew.”

Another swipe. “Or when Rhodes had this incredible throw to second as Wanda was stealing and you managed to not touch her in time.” 

“I miscalculated.”

“Oh I think you calculated perfectly.” Vision had, it took concerted effort to just barely miss Wanda’s hip.

What is frustrating about this interrogation is not that they caught him numerous times, but that they failed to catch all the times Wanda aided him. Vision can’t say that without damning either of them. “What of the times I made mistakes for others? You seem to only focus on my flaws around Wanda.”

Natasha pulls out her phone now, the eye black Tony made them all put on their cheeks bending as she frowns, “Except you haven’t had a single error other than when Wanda is involved.” 

“I doubt that.” Natasha hands over the stats and Vision seems to lack the finesse of a villain, unable to even make mistakes when needed to hide the true crime. “I see.” The phone goes back to Natasha and Vision is left floundering, unsure how to proceed. “We do have a constant mental connection so it is possible that perhaps she was able to unintentionally glean some strategic infor—“

Natasha folds her arms across her chest. “What is she offering you?”

“I do not comprehend.”

“Is she threatening you?” Tony turns from interrogator to slightly (but not really) concerned father figure. “Is she withholding sex unless you help her? Blink once if you need help.”

Now it’s getting ridiculous. “We just like to help each other.” And just like that he confesses. Natasha grins and Vision figures there is no use in dancing around the truth now. “Wanda was worried about today and embarrassing herself in front of the crowd and the 90 countries streaming this game. She’s not terribly interested in sports.” This doesn’t go over well, or so their faces say. There needs to be an upside, so Vision offers a quantifiable fact, “We’re still winning.”

Tony’s, “By one!” doesn’t sound appreciative of Vision not going hog wild with his betrayal.  

“I told you not to put them on opposite teams.” Rhodes refocuses the blame on Tony, their team captain. “But you didn’t listen. Every game night since they joined the team has gone this way. No one here should be surprised.”

The attempt to redirect the conversation doesn’t work, Tony sending it right back to Vision. “Surprised, no. Disappointed, you better believe it. For a self-proclaimed man of logic, Vision here can’t seem to think with his big brain instead of his small one.”

“Um guys,” Peter’s grinning nervously as he nudges back into the inner circle, “we gotta go back on the field.” 

“Come on, everyone,” though Tony is the team captain by title, Natasha is the actual commander, “let’s get warmed up for the rest.”

As the team exits, Tony waves Vision close enough to wrap his arm around his shoulders, whispering, “You do anything else to help her today and I will write you out of the will.”

“Understood.” Though Pepper would never let such a thing happen. He thinks.

****

With how scrutinizing his teammates are after the revelation of his betrayal, Vision can’t risk any sign of favor, not even a glance. It is almost physically painful to ignore Wanda, but Vision does his best. This includes not smiling when she covertly waves at him and not following her with his eyes during the very slow, purposeful strut past him on her way to left field, the stripes of the baseball uniform more than flattering on her. Thankfully there are no situations that come up where they must intersect, physically or in their plays. 

All he has left is half an inning and the torture of his penance will be over. 

Vision is in the process of putting on the catching gear when Wanda, sounding aggravated, finally reaches out through their mental link. What’s wrong?

They found me out. 

How?

Vision doesn’t look up, not wanting to accidentally (or purposefully) see Wanda lest it give away they are talking. They have it on video. He should leave it there, but that’s pointless when Wanda can likely see the rest anyway. And I may have eventually confessed. 

For someone who aces Nat’s prisoner of war training, you cave really easily to peer pressure. 

I am aware. 

“Vision, you ready?” Rhodes is their pitcher for the final inning, each position has been switched out throughout the game in an attempt to be fair and he called the final pitching rotation, but only if Vision was his catcher. They’ve even been practicing during their downtime because Rhodes wants to impress and Vision has no intention of letting him down. 

“Yes.”  

“No funny business, okay?” 

“Of course.” All Vision wants is for the bottom of the ninth inning to be uneventful and then he can go back to not having his teammates glaring and questioning his every movement and breath. 

Except the first batter is none other than Wanda, the pinstripe patriotic jersey of Team Cap hugging her every tantalizing curve . “Hey there.”

Part of the charity game is to really play up the team rivalries and relationships, hence why Vision does stand up to greet her, now that all the cameras are on them. “Hello, my love.” He slides the catcher’s mask up enough to give her a slight peck, to the crowd’s absolute delight. Julio, the over enthusiastic announcer informs the entire stadium (and 90 nations broadcasting the game), “That’s enough, lovebirds. Save the rest of the bases for the after party.” To which Wanda playfully shoves Vision aside with the tip of her bat (to the cheers, and some jeers, from the crowd) before taking her spot at the plate. 

Please do not read my mind during this.

Fine. Don’t get distracted by the view. Emphasized by a little shimmy that looks to anyone else as if she’s readjusting her batting stance.

That is going to be nigh impossible, but I will do my best. 

Thankfully Wanda ends up getting walked and then the next two batters (Scott and Sam) strike out. Rhodes makes sure to hold up his glove and declare for the entire team, “One more and we got this!”

The issue is that Steve is up to bat and has a penchant for hitting home runs. Sure enough, the first pitch and the crack of the bat sends the ball hurtling towards left field where T’Challa and Peter race to get it. Vision stands, throwing the catching mask from his face, eyes alternating between where Peter finally fields the ball against the back barrier of the outfield and Wanda, rounding third base with a look of utter determination on her face. 

“Vision!” Natasha throws the ball and Vision has to fly a couple inches up to catch it. A second “Vision!” urges him to ratchet up his density and brace for impact with Wanda. 

They tumble to the ground, his arm thudding into the dirt. It’s not on purpose, not even close, but his soul leaves his body at the same rate as he watches the ball slipping out of the top of his normal density mitt. 

This might actually lead him to be dropped from the will and it’s not even on purpose. 

Contrary to what he knows is true, the umpire shouts. “Yer out!” 

There’s indistinguishable cheering from around him, no doubt the crowd and his team but Vision doesn’t pay it any mind, sitting up and being utterly confused when he opens his glove to find the ball sitting right in the pocket. “But…”

“You’re welcome.” Wanda smirks up at him from where she lays on the ground, catching her breath. 

“You?”

“Don’t you dare tell anyone.”

Vision takes off his glove, tossing it over his shoulder, before crawling to Wanda, his hands on either side of her head, holding him steady as he bends to kiss her soundly. “Thank you.”

“You can get to third base later!”  Tony grabs the back of Vision’s jersey, yanking him up. “Right now we celebrate!”

“Is all forgiven?”

Tony shrugs, “Not everything but you can go back to being my favorite. Just don’t tell Peter.”

“Tell Peter what?”

Tony winks at Vision as he declares to the other honorary Stark, “That you’re my favorite.”

“Good game,” Wanda threads her arm around Vision’s waist, pulling their hips snug together. 

“You as well.” Despite the overall jovial mood before them, Clint and Sam whisper, pointing at Wanda as they motion catching a ball and ramming into someone. “Though you may have stirred suspicions.”

Wanda slides a hand into the back pocket of Vision’s pants, unconcerned, “They all know what happens when we’re on opposite teams, not like they have room to be upset.”

[yamanaka-shin]

"Koooooutaaaa." It's loudly spoken in a way as to deliberately drag out certain sounds. He's being summoned.

The voice reaches his ears from what feels like much farther away than it is. With just a little sigh, Kouta trots over to the other room where his partner is calling him in an effort to prevent them from shouting again. He stands over them as they sit on the floor and thumb through a particularly old book he'd had on his personal shelf for the last three decades bare minimum. At least they had quieted down immediately when he made his entry, like a cat yowling for attention that was content the second said attention was received, though know he found himself wishing they would explain themselves as to why they needed his attention and presence in the first place. Both of his hands are placed on his hips and he tries to patiently await their verbal explanation but he makes a solid effort not to look actually annoyed.

"Do you know how outdated this thing is?" They finally properly look up at him with a raised brow. "With all this talk about the Nidaime being a cold unfeeling bastard with no sense of ethics or morals."

Kouta puts his hand out for the book but says nothing until Shin hands it over. "Thank you." He clears his throat before continuing. "Yes I'm very aware. I'm not attached to it anymore and frankly wish I'd never bought it in the first place."

"Maybe it's time you do a library purge to get rid of it and all of its ilk. Donate them somewhere but attach a warning label, perhaps."

"I've been contemplating doing something like that yes. It's better than throwing the lot of them out." And then he pivots the subject when some revelation appears to come over him. "Are those Itachi's glasses?"

Kouta thanks his incredible luck that Shin would never lie to him even about something small like this. So when they respond, he knows it'll be the honest truth. "Why yes they are."

"Are you planning on giving them back to him at some point? Preferably soon?"

"I am not." They shake their head twice to make sure he gets the picture. "These are an old-ish pair and in fact I asked him permission first to take them."

Kouta takes a couple good deep breaths and then lowers himself into a sitting position beside Shin. It's a bit difficult for him without his favorite wooden cane to help balance his weight on and it doesn't feel fantastic on his joints. But it's worth it to truly figure out what business his partner may have sporting a pair of glasses that he'd never seen them even attempt to try on casually before. Those stark white eyes that he found profoundly beautiful, faded over so much time without proper explanation, blink at him curiously but Shin opts not to speak in favor of letting their husband continue his questioning. They have plenty of time to answer all of his inquiries properly and hopefully give him real peace of mind.

"When did you get those from him? I don't remember you having them or wearing them at all in the past week. Am I just that unobservant?"

"No, it's only been two days. I got them from Haruka on Thursday per request and haven't had the time to actually use them until today. They're not really customized to me, since they're not mine obviously, but they're working well enough for my purposes."

Some sort of alarm bells begin to go off in Kouta's head when he hears them say all of this with a straight face. Not a hint of irony or play could be detected in their tone and the subject at hand could very much be considered serious so all of his attention became laser focused on his husband just then. He reaches up slowly and takes the frames gingerly off of their face so that he may inspect the light eyes behind them. Eyes as focused on him as he is on Shin, framed by bangs that had lost their silver hue in favor of a similar white tone with the natural aging process. Kouta scans their entire face first as if he's avoiding some confirmation of the worst before making himself look them directly in the eyes. Then he is able to let out a held breath in relief when he can see no signs of cataracts or ocular damage of any sort. Shin blinks at him but still chooses to wait their turn to speak, wondering what is going through the old weasel man's head.

"Shin?" Is all he can get out.

"Yeah? What's wrong? You look like you've seen some sort of ominous vision."

He sets the glasses down, folded and out of the way of harm, and then reaches both arms out to gently place one hand on either side of their head. His hands are warm and something about the touch is relaxing to them despite the fact that he's clearly doing it out of an anxiety spike. One of their own hands goes up to cover his own, savoring the warm touch while also meaning to reassure him that they're not going to combust and die in front of him. Kouta's heart speeds up just a bit in his chest but not out of some positive feeling. He's all too familiar with the capricious nature of Shin's state of health. They have had symptoms all over the map for as long as he's known them and he's no fool to pass off a single one even if it turns out in the end to just be weird luck of the draw. This requires professional attention and he's going to see to it that they get just that.

"Shin." He starts again. "Do you want me to make an appointment for you? I don't think Kabuto or Haruka are really qualified for optometry...so I could call a specialist? If you're needing Itachi's old glasses to look over some words in a book then maybe we need to get you checked out."

If the two had been a decade younger, they would have immediately pulled him into their lap to help let him know they were grateful and that this would all be okay somehow. But they knew damn well it was hard enough for him even to get this low and would probably need assistance getting back up so such a gesture was not the wisest idea. So instead, they let go of their hold on his hand and they take that as a sign to let go of them as well, and then they scoot over to properly sit beside him. Kouta looks at them long and hard for just a moment after they come to a stop and then he transitions to leaning his head on their shoulder for comfort. Shin puts one arm around him and holds him close just to make sure he feels extra secure. Not answering his question first was excusable this time because he clearly needed the physical closeness as a way to verify that he wasn't going to lose his partner of over 30 years just like that.

"Yes, I would appreciate if you could do that for me. I'm sorry I hadn't told you yet that something might be going on with my vision. Haruka kinda sorta knows...but only because I asked her to drop the glasses off to me. Itachi probably has an idea of what's up, even more than her. Sorry that you're the last to know."

"That's okay. I know you didn't keep it from me on purpose. You haven't done anything like that in a really long time." His still vivid orange eyes, now much more vibrant than his hair that had lost a lot of its color and luster, slowly closed as he spoke. He was still admittedly scared but there was a plan in place now so he could rely on that until they had further answers. "Thank you for being honest with me."

Their lips met his forehead in a kiss, another gesture to remind him that this would work itself out safely, and they held him just a little closer. The warmth he radiated was even more potent now and it reminded them of prime late summer days in late August just before their birthday the following month. All of the good he has brought into their life that they tried to return twofold, the memory of it made the weight of the current predicament lessen considerably. Kouta was very attached to Shin and they made sure to assure him that it was always going to be mutual. All of his nearly asocial behaviors through the years never once applied when interacting with them. He made sure to make exceptions for them as their bond has deepened from frequent awkward encounters to equally awkward friends to everything that trailed after. And though they had a much wider social circle than him, Shin always made damn sure to include him in every facet of their life.

While he was still cuddled up to them, they cast their gaze for a moment to the forgotten outdated reading material they'd left sitting on the floor next to their previous spot. It was as physically dusty as it felt emotionally and they were quite sure that it had to be gotten rid of the next time the two had a moment to go through the rest of the library. Who knew how many things were on those shelves that needed clearing out. And this one was different from all the obsolete tomes that had harmless guesses and disproven theories in them left over from an age when all the villages were still getting their shit together. This particular piece of literature most likely was written by someone with a malicious grudge against the second Senju brother and it favored that bias over actual history Tobirama had been part of. Kouta probably didn't pick up the book to hear an opinion on the man's life. No, they knew he was more interested in contributions made by those a book was about. So all signs pointed to this thing having worn out its welcome in their house.

"Kouta?" They verbally nudged him, not wanting to physically do so since he looked so comfortable. "Do you want me to help you up myself or am I gonna need to go get the cane?"

"Mmm, neither. We should stay here."

"That's really gonna hurt in the morning and you know it. Don't be shocked when you feel as old as you are because your back or your tailbone are screaming from sitting like this too long."

"Fine." He sighs in defeat. "You can help me up. I don't want you to have to go looking for my aid in case it's hard to find on directions alone."

He has to force himself to pull away from them so they can get up. When they're free they are quickly able to stand and stretch before offering him both hands as a lift. "I think maybe you shouldn't go playing hide and go seek with that thing when it's important for times like this. Just a hunch, though."

Kouta places both of his hands in Shin's but hesitates to actually let himself be pulled up for just a moment. Those eyes again, looking down at him, have him enraptured. He cannot believe how much he enjoys looking up into them and that there was a time when that gaze was a different color. Just like how it felt unreal that he'd managed to miss the transition of their hair from silver to white. All the time he had spent with his spouse and he still felt a sense of reverence from looking upon them. So much was he engrossed in the feelings of affection that he damn near forgot to respond.

"I will think about it." And with that, the little smirk that lightens up his face spreads to Shin too. He finally lets them pull him up and finds they still manage to be the most comforting thing in the world to him, even when their physical reality is experiencing troubles. "After I call the doctor."

[hatredcurse]

foxcurse​ | Naruto:

“What did I sacrifice? My life—I sacrificed my whole life.” His words were partly directed at his rival, though his gaze remained fixed on the village that had always been a bittersweet home. Gripping the rooftop railing tightly, Naruto pondered the weight of his choices. Despite only being in his 20s, he had already relinquished so much of himself—forever lost in the depths of time. But the blonde reassured himself that there was still a future awaiting him, even if his entire youth had been stolen away. The most important thing, he believed, was that he had accomplished his mission. That was the very purpose of his existence—to give and give, while others simply took. Right?

 “I know I didn’t have to do it. But how was I supposed to be at peace without doing everything I could for your sake?” Naruto continued, finally turning his attention towards the other, aware that the Uchiha couldn’t possibly have all the answers. In truth, Naruto himself was uncertain why he cared so deeply—about Sasuke, about their village, about doing what was right. It was as if he had been programmed that way. It was a tough pill to swallow.

     “I don’t know, okay?! I don’t know what the hell I’m saying or why I’m bringing this up! Yes, I have regrets, but if I had to do it over again, I would choose you every single time.” It was a simple confession. To him, it seemed like an obvious truth. Taking a deep breath, he tried to steady his trembling voice. Taking a deep breath, he tried to steady his trembling voice.

“I’m not trying to hold it over you, Sasuke. I just wanna vent and scream and cry to someone who might understand where I’m comin’ from. After all, what can you do to change the past? It’s already happened. I just want my friend back—not a shadow. I want us to be like we used to—even if it’s impossible, even if you don’t want the same, even if I’m pissing you off right now—the least I deserve in this world is the right to say whatever the hell I want.” 

Before Sasuke stood a kid. Two kids actually; a young blond messy with day-old scraped knees and the other an inorganic black splotch that refused to take form. It flashed, like the red-hot crackle of chidori, within milliseconds before the blinding white returned to same blond (now a man) quivering at the fingertips. His mended mind began to falter between truth and untruth, recounting for every moment he understood Naruto’s emotions and when was simply a witness to them.

“I know.”

A breath of agreeance. Sasuke knew this truth with utmost certainty; Naruto will always chose him, even if it destroyed him, as it was doing now. The cruel irony is that Sasuke never chose him despite the obsession over his effigy— Naruto’s chosen role as the final seal before ultimate power. 

Perhaps, this is what wrought guilt. 

Sasuke coerced Naruto into friendship then decided his piece in his game. A game that he had no chance of winning and the Uzumaki’s only prize was the Uchiha’s new cold shoulder. His avoidance born of guilt sans hatred because his pride clung to the refusal to properly apologize. Fuck the apology, really. Sasuke never made the effort to fix what he had long destroyed, which was vastly more important than a couple of unsaid words.

“I can’t change the past and—,” he took a step closer, gloved fingers biting into leather palms,” and I can’t bring back that Sasuke you so desperately want either.”

Whether or not Naruto deserved anything was none of Sasuke’s concern. “I am your friend, am I not?” he said as if he put forth any effort to act like it,” this world still spins and I returned home. There is nothing I can possibly do to repay all that you’ve done for me, other than just exist in peace around you.”

Which begs the question: if Naruto disappeared tomorrow, would Sasuke follow? Would he walk in the steps that the man did for him? If the answer is “no”, then is what they have really friendship?

“Something’s upset you. What was it?” Sasuke grasped at straws to control the situation; to seek an understanding he wasn’t finding. His ego allowed him to offer solutions than spout any false promises. Better than having Naruto see through his sweet-nothings that way. 

[igotanidea]

Workaholic insomniacs : Matt Murdock x reader

request by @pinksirensong: 132 from the "Choose for me - prompt list" with Matt Murdock

132 was "I haven't slept in four days." It did not indicate which one of them :D

***

I think I might be dying. I am tired to the point where I can’t even close my eyes and get some rest, my mind is racing and I’m suffering with too much thoughts causing my head to drift dangerously to the brink of explosion.  Life and job has been too much lately. Of course I knew getting a job in Hell’s kitchen would be … well, literal hell. Sure, I was aware that being a detective who loves one’s job is not exactly a piece of cake. I suppose I just did not see this much coming on me.

At this point, as we run an investigation I work almost 24/7. I haven’t slept in four daysand it slowly starting to show. The fact that someone constantly wants something from me so I can’t finish anything does not help. It’s nearly midnight and my team is still burning the midnight oil, our effectiveness inversely proportional to the efforts. Seems like the more we try the less we get. Did I mention my head hurts?

“I need air” I mutter to the operation chef, agent Nadeem “just five minutes of it”

“Go, agent. Take a break, we all could use it” he mutters

“Was that an irony, Nadeem?”

“Sorry. I guess I became a bit grumpy because of this case”

“Yeah, didn’t we all. I’ll be right back I promise and then you can go get some distance.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so” he shook his head “you know me, not going anywhere until I’m done.”

“I know, but your wife will kill me If I let you keep tormenting yourself this way. So no sir, you are next in turn.”

“Women” she rolls eyes.

“You men would be truly lost without us” I smirk and walk out the room with cameras tracing my every step. Being the only girl on the team can be hard sometimes. They have tendencies to undermine your skills and abilities, treat you like a porcelain doll even if you would take down most of them and sometimes make some inappropriate jokes. Good thing our supervisor is a woman. That make them halt a bit. Oh, and I am extremely good agent. Otherwise, I would not be put on this case at all. Besides, there are also benefits. You get your own room while they camp together, you can eat as much food as you want without being judged and you get to understand how the brain of a man works. Or at least get a closer look. I mean, all of this agents are my friends, and even if we banter and fight sometimes we would give life for each other. Especially agent Dex, the sniper, the first one on the defense line. He actually saved my life once and that is kind of debt I could never fully repay. Lately he has been acting strange but I won’t interfere with whatever business he has going on. If he want to talk, he knows where to find me.

Because of all the security and buffers It takes almost fifteen minutes to get out of the building, each second longer than the previous one. The latest rate of suicide victims had raised significantly and therefore the access to windows on the highest floors are limited. Unfortunately, FBI are always located high. Ironically the key figures claim it’s for security. Waving my pass in front of the bouncer’s eyes I finally reach the revolving door and leave the dirty and suffocating space behind me.

The cold, autumn air of hell’s kitchen instantly make me clench the coat tighter around my shoulders and I shiver a bit. I love my city, seemingly empty at this hour, but under the surface still pulsing with life. Driving cars and sounds of carriages, few people walking the streets and occasional shutting makes it all so real. It’s good to come down on earth and sense the surroundings after hours and hours of keeping your head in the documents. Yes, the world is full of violence, unfairness and all those negativity that comes from being human. On the other side, however you can always get hope upon looking at the rising sun or listening to the wind rustling in the wind.

I wasn’t always like that. I use to march through the world like it was a war zone. Straight from point A to point B. Absolutely focused on saving time and getting all my tasks done. Surrounding? Ain’t nobody got time for that. I was an agent and we don’t really have time to devour the singing birds or other stuff like that.

It changed when I met a man, who has all his senses, except one, sharpened like a new-bought pencil. He made me stop and wonder about the sounds, the smells, the feelings. It was something utterly new, like opening eyes to the world after a long dreamless sleep. And it ended up with me in a hospital, seriously hurt during field operation because I got distracted. Yes, Matt Murdock had and still has a lot of negative impact on my life. And our relationship is complicated and damaged in hundreds different ways, but we just can’t be without each other.

“Agent”

“No.” I turn around and spot a red-dressed silhouette in a dark alley. “No!” I repeat firmly shaking my head.

“You don’t even….”

“I’m not giving you anything, Devil”

“Oh, come on, please” he pleads with this tone that in other circumstances would make me give up just because of a single word and give him anything.... Stop! Stop! You are at work, get yourself together, dirty thoughts aside. “I need some information.”

“Those are strictly confidential and you know it. I don’t need any trouble besides those I already have” I pointed at him angrily.

“Come on honey, you know I can figure it out faster than the FBI. Just give me something to work with.”

“No.” I stand my ground “Drop it, Matt”

“Shh!” with one firm move he grabs my hand and pull me into the dark alley where no one could see us, his hand on my mouth “do you want to compromise my identity, sweetie?”

“You are a threat to yourself, so I don’t think there’s much I can do to make it worse” I mutter trying to yank free of his hold and failing spectacularly.

“Honey….” He mutters nuzzling my cheek “why can’t we get over with this. You know, because of this I haven’t slept in four days.”

“Well I know the feeling.”

“Wouldn’t it be lovely to spend some time together after closing the matter?” he pulls me closer

“Careful Murdock, I got a gun”

“Well, I got batons”

“You can’t win this conversation with me”

“Well, shall we try? I’m a lawyer.”

“Oh, well, I am a woman so don’t even try!”

“Karen would….”

“Oh, low blow! Now we’re done here.”

“Why?” he slightly moves back pouting,                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

“Karen, seriously? You know how I feel about you getting a civilian involved.”

“So it’s not about us anymore?”

“Look, you dumbass of a vigilante” I sigh “You have masochistic tendencies. And it’s fine. I’m used to it as long as you are doing it on your own responsibility. But I’m not going to help you with getting yourself hurt, all right? My conscience would not take it.”

“But….”

“No buts, Matt. Drop it.”

“Is than a command, agent?” his voice becomes dark and serous under this mask of his and this leaves me no choice.

“Yes, it’s a command” I pierce him with the coldest gaze I can produce on my face and even if he can’t see it, I know he felt the ice in my whole posture.

“Well, too bad I don’t listen to those. And you know you can’t do this without me!” he turns around and jump on the nearest set of stair disappearing into the night. Damn him!

***

“did you come up with something substantial on your visit to the outside world?” Nadeem asks seeing me back, coattails running loose, hands in pockets uncharacteristically angry “What happened?”

“Nothing” I snap but his admonitory gaze put me back in my place “sorry. Just some relationship trouble”

“Oh, I can surely relate to that.”

“I know, but that’s no excuse. I’m sorry.  But, on the bright side I actually think I  may have an idea and a trail that is worth checking.”

“Do tell” Nadeem fixes his gaze on me in anticipation for any detail that can help the team and for the first time I notice the tiredness and weariness on his face alongside with a few grey hair in his dark shag.

“You know, there was this little thing in the files. A symbol” I flick through the documents “here it is, see” I point to the almost invisible pictogram of a blue spade on the building in the background of the photo. “I know where I saw it.”

***

“FBI! Everyone on the ground!” the force team kick the door down and barge into the mansion with me and Nadeem close on their feet. I guess I was right since we have four of our suspects lying on the floor with their hands handcuffed. Mission completed.

“Good job, agent” Nadeem puts a hand on my shoulder as a token of congratulations “I bet this would get attention from the high level. Maybe you would get an investigation on your own.”

“Nah. I would decline that. You and I we make a good team, agent Nadeem, don’t you think.”

“You are a pain in my ass.” He smirks and in his case use of such words means he feels we do work well together.

“I’ve heard that many times before and I’m still here”

“Let’s head back. We have some interrogation to do. This is not over yet.”

“I’m more than happy to do so. And we were so lucky to get here first” I say to no one in particular.

“What do you mean?” Nadeem frowns at me

“Oh, no, nothing. It’s just… lately TV has been claiming that FBI and police are inept and Devil of Hell’s kitchen does all the job. Guess they were wrong.” I meanly stress out the last word noticing a single streak of red sneaking behind me.

***

“Did you have fun?” when I get back to my apartment Matt is already there

“By proving you wrong? By winning the race with the daredevil?” I tap my chin in consideration “Yes!” I grin in satisfaction “So much of it! And rumor has it I’m up for promotion”

“Good thing the Devil decided to left the matter in your hands”

“It is, right? A lot of luck. Or maybe rather a lot of competence and observational skills. Not to mention intelligence and fast thinking.”

“Well thank you” he chuckles

“I’m sorry Matt, but I was talking to my reflection in the mirror. Did not see you in there.”

“Talk about a low blow” he hiss in pain.

“where?” I move towards the couch perching on the edge

“Nowhere” he tries to move away but wince again.

“Matt,….”

“I’m sorry” he sighs closing his eyes “I should have never doubted you”

“You shouldn’t have” I agree “but it’s a habit, right? You do it every time you are on your vigilant shit.”

“I’m sorry”

“No, you know what it’s fine.” He looks at my direction a bit confused “you weren’t Matt., then. You were Daredevil. And I was not your girlfriend. I was an FBI agent. Two different lives, four different person.”

“Do you have any mental problems I should now about.”

“See, that was Matt.” I smile “what I mean is that in our… other life we are supposed to be enemies. After all you steal my job and I hate that. But all this spiting and fighting and teasing while we are both in suits are good. We get better don’t you think? Trying to prove something.”

“As twisted as that is you may be a bit right.”

“Well I mean I get better, you seem awfully savaged, more than usual. Losing your proficiency?”

“Is it an agent talking or my girl?”

“Your girl” I smile and he grabs my hand kissing my knuckles gently.

“Well, like I said before I haven’t slept in four days and that’s an effect.” I stay silent waiting for him to continue and after a while the words come “can you stay with me? I need you close to me.”

“Sure I can” I snuggle next to him, forgetting about the job, the stress and the fight some agent has with some vigilante. We’ll deal with that in the morning, now it’s just boyfriend and girlfriend making themselves cozy in a shared bed.

[fangirl-erdariel]

Ok so I am fully aware of the irony of me posting this in English, but

One thing I have to admit I miss of fandoms before Ao3 and big social media sites was the non-English fandom spaces for fandoms centered around English-language works. Like, okay, fine, it was only ever a few big ones, like Harry Potter and LOTR and the like. Okay, fine, I only got to experience it briefly, by the time I figured out internet and fandoms around eight years ago, Ao3 was already becoming big, becoming the site for fic, and fandom stuff was moving onto the various social media sites. But there were still a few non-English forums and fic sites around; I frequented one for LOTR and read my first LOTR fics there, while my English was still so weak that I struggled with reading English fic. The site still exists, but there's been barely any activity for years, and no new fics. The Harry Potter site I know for a fact existed once although I never used it myself, I can not find at all - I don't know if it's gone down (though that seems likely) or if i'm just stupid and can't find it.

But these days? Tolkien fandom does still have one active fan forum in my first language, but that site doesn't to my knowledge host fanfic or really put much attention on that aspect of the fandom. As far as I know, there isn't an active Tolkien fan community in my first language on tumblr either, and why would there be? Tumblr is predominantly English-language site, and it's hard, I suppose, to have an active fan community here that uses a language other than English but shares a fandom and relevant tags with predominantly English-speaking fans. The only active fandom community I know of on tumblr that primarily uses my first language is centered around a work that was written in said language in the first place.

And as for Ao3 and fanfic? Well, yes, Ao3 has a lot of language options! But how much do people use them? For my first language, for fandoms I care about myself, not a whole lot. For Tolkien fandom in particular, there's 48 works altogether. Most of them are cross-posted on or archived from that old fic site I mentioned previously. More than I'd care to admit are something I wrote and posted when I was like 12 or 13, and much worse of a writer than I am now. I have left them up, I'm not taking them down because it's more effort than it's worth, but they're not something I like to remember or think about, let alone reread. Many of the rest are about ships and characters I don't care about. That is compared to the something like 700 Middle-Earth fics + an assortment of other non-Tolkien fanfics and oc fics + poetry and song parodies the site also had sections for. (Plus the threads in the conversation sections, but like if we're talking about content you might post on Ao3, that's not on the list). And as I said, some of the 48 works on Ao3 are cross-posts of some of the 700ish fics on the language-specific fansites.

The thing with Ao3 is that yes, it allows for posting in other languages than English. Which is great! But at least in my first language, and I would imagine in many other languages as well, it's not something people do much, aside from a couple of fandoms where the source work is in that language, and a few extremely popular fandoms. Even then you have to go out specifically looking for fics in that language, because if you just look at all the fics in the fandom, fic in other languages gets posted so little that in any bigger/more active fandom, it gets quickly drowned by the English works.

Also, even when people write fic in my first language, I can't really find that sort of dedicated fan community, and I don't have anywhere, aside from their Ao3 comments or maybe some private chat between two people, where I can talk to them. I have, in some fandoms where I'm lucky, one friend who speaks the same language I do, and we can toss ideas back and forth and be fans about our fandoms in my first language, in a private chat. Which is fun and I love that person so much!! But two people isn't a community. And I have to admit, that community is something I kind of wish I could have.

Of course there are merits to the English-speaking fandom spaces and the fandom scene on big social medias! I've made so many friends from all over the world on tumblr and on fandom discords! Even if there were dedicated fanfic and fandom communities for the fandoms I'm into that used predominantly my first language, I'd probably still also hang around in English fandom spaces as well, and read and write fic in English, too. But I just- I would like the chance to choose to do that, you know? I'd like to be able to decide that, you know what, right now I feel like reading/writing something in English. But yesterday I read fic in another language, because I felt like it. I'd like to be able to write fic in my first language and have some hope that it might be read by a handful of people, and I'd like to have enough other people writing fic in the same language to be able to read their work and be inspired by the way they use the language when they write! (Because let's be honest, it's kind of hard to write in isolation, coming up with everything on your own, and I'm constantly getting inspired by and taking notes from the way other people whose fics I read write!) As much as I love that one friend of mine, I would like to be able to have a meta/headcanon discussion in my first language with more than one person besides me chiming in. Everything that's good about fandoms and being in fan communities, I'd like to be able to experience in my first language as well as in English.

And I realize I'm part of the problem, too, posting almost exclusively in English and very rarely writing fic in my first language (although I am planning on making a few things for the None English Fest on Ao3). The dominance of English language in fandoms is in part a self-fulfilling prophecy; no one uses other languages, because no one else uses them either, and someone has to be the one to first start actively writing and/or posting in a given language, and maybe other people would then start doing so too. (Although let's be real, I write fic or post any original content so infrequently that I would probably not be able to kickstart a non-English fandom community by myself even if I wanted to.)

I don't have a solution for this. I don't know whether there is a solution. But I wanted to make this post in the hopes of perhaps stirring up some conversation on the topic, at least making people think about this. So, if you have something, anything, to add - feel absolutely free to do so! I would love to hear other people's opinions on this!

(PS if you speak Finnish and you're into any of the fandoms i'm in, feel free to come chat with me! And if you ever write fic in Finnish of one of my fandoms, please link it to me, I wanna read it!!)

[phoenixyfriend]

SW Suddenly-Omegaverse AU: Surrogacy, Worldbuilding, Obi-Mom

Truly the main irony of all this is that everyone considers Obi-Wan the Better Omega but Anakin is the one who's actually 👀👀👀 about pregnancy

Obi-Wan: I have the deepest respect for those who do it, but the idea of growing another person inside of me is weird and gross, no, thank you.

Meanwhile Anakin is like. Immediate baby fever. Someone actually approaches him like "hey... there are forms you can fill out to request an exception for pregnancy, and like... regulations" because he's that obvious about it.

I assume that if they've got safety nets for accidental pregnancies, then they're probably aware that there are people who want to do it on purpose? I feel like in an omegaverse where 'biological imperative to procreate' can be so much more intense, then maybe there's old precedent that stuck around even after suppressants got most of those hormones under better control.

Bit torn. Just know I want Anakin to Make Baby.

"Anakin, what are you--" "Do you think offering to be someone's surrogate would be acceptable to the council as a way to be pregnant without getting attached." "...what." "They'd probably accept that as a way to practice not getting attached, right?" "N...no, that's not... what?"

Anakin approaching Bail and Breha and being like “Do you... still want a kid? I would provide a kid. Do you want one here*?”

* in this dimension

Great way to give up the baby as a parent because he'd still be able to see them once in a while but also like... it's not HIS kid, technically. He can be a cool uncle who happened to give birth, which is distant enough to not be 'attached,' but close enough that his Tatooine-raised 'must ensure family is safe whenever possible' background doesn't flip out. It helps that 'Core World Royalty' is like... a top-tier family to be raised in.

(It would have to be post-war because he probably shouldn’t be risking his life while very pregnant. He needs to be reminded of that sometimes.)

Bail/Breha is an alpha/alpha relationship and while a pregnancy is still possible,* it’s a whole lot more difficult, and that's on top of Breha's canon medical issues that resulted in her heart and lungs getting replaced.

* AFAB alphas can get pregnant, and AMAB omegas can inseminate, but the success rate on that angle is much lower than the 'traditional' alpha/omega roles, as is any attempt at reproduction outside rut/heat. They're low-fertility overall for the non-dominant aspect of their reproductive system, which... ha, Anakin and Obi-Wan try to get explanations for why the senary system works the way it does, but it's a very longform history lesson that comes down to 'idk this got cemented so long ago that nobody really knows why anymore.'

AKA "why do you title these roles male omega and female alpha instead of intersex omega and intersex alpha since both parties have both genitals."

ANYWAY

Anakin: I want to make babies. But I don't want to get kicked out of the order. But I don't want to give up my own babies for adoption. But I can't keep my own babies if I want to stay a Jedi. So basically I want to have someone else's babies? Anakin: ...wait shit that's just surrogacy.

Anakin, calling up Obi-Wan: Hey are the Organas still struggling to have a kid? Obi-Wan: ...not really your business. Anakin: You're friends with Bail again though, right? Obi-Wan: I am, but-- Anakin: Do you think they'd want me to be a surrogate? Obi-Wan: What.

I can't decide if it's funnier for the Order to be like "I mean... technically there's no rules against this?" or if this is a precedent set by at least three omegas every generation because that's just how a/b/o manifested for omegas in a biological and cultural sense.

Bail: Wait, your former apprentice is... volunteering... to be our surrogate. Obi-Wan, exhausted: Yes. Bail: He barely knows us. Obi-Wan: He respects you and you're the closest people he knows that want a child and would be good parents. Bail: And he's just... volunteering? Obi-Wan: Yes. Also, you did say your primary worry was that a surrogate might be targeted for assassination and you couldn't ask someone to risk that, right? Anakin is very much able to avoid assassins, and would be staying primarily in the Temple anyway. Very safe, and not particularly scared of assassins in the first place. Bail: Your words say you approve, but your tone says otherwise. Obi-Wan: Anakin considers me his father. I'm not old enough to be a grandparent. Bail: Ah.

Anakin is a surrogate and enjoys it and everything is fine and then like a year later he's accidentally pregnant with his own and Rex's kid, and nobody knows how to ask if it's actually an accident.

A suggestion from @gelpenss:

OH MAN i.... have to drive home. But I just had a thought about like. I always want to poke at Betas in A/B/O like are they “normal” or different from our standard or.... but ANYWAY assuming they have a pheromonal thing I just think it would be neat if betas had the ability to be the Bucket of Cold Water. Like if caught early enough, and with the caveat it’s not permanent, a beta could arrest a rut or heat in its tracks until a more ideal time. Like. They aren’t birth control. But they are the remind me later button.

Okay done driving I am Returned to bring up why I brought up betas and it’s this: well okay 1. It plays nice with a popular but inaccurate dog breeding urban legend that female dogs will like, delay heat cycles? so that the bitches above them in pack hierarchy have first choice of mate selection. And I think in omegaverse it would be cool if that was a Bio Fact, and also historically enforced by the third designation. 2. It gives me an excuse to have betas have the Most Sensitive sense of smell because it’s their “job” to pick up on things before they go too far to be put on pause. 3. I’m just thinkin ‘bout a beta clone [...] just hovering around Obi-Wan because they found out how much stress his heat cycle causes and they’re like “okay cool I will help make sure it does Not”

I want to like a/b/o verses but betas niggle at me. I want to give them a hat and a Function that woulda helped before modern medicine.

I'm not sure how I feel about betas being able to delay heats, but I do like the idea of them having a more sensitive sense of pheromone smell than most. Most aliens assume it's omegas with the best sense of smell, and betas with the worst, but it's more complicated than that because they all specialize: Alphas are actually less attuned to pheromone smells, but more attuned to things that were useful back when humans were still a hunter-gatherer species. Omegas tend to be heightened towards danger smells like fire or aggression, and pheromones relating to children/care. Betas, as suggested above, are very sensitive to pheromone changes relating to mood and behavior of the community around them.

I like the idea that betas were historically the ones that ended up taking care children, unmated omegas, and so on during people's heats and ruts, because they kept their heads about themselves long enough to do things like cook and clean while someone was reeking of hormones. The checks and balances work out that betas may have lower fertility, but it makes them better able to support the network around them.

It works in with humanity's general collective history of thriving the most when working as a community.

Given that I decided that this is Jangobi, the clones might all subconsciously view Obi-Wan as Mom. Not intentionally, but, you know... Obi-Wan the not-evil stepmother. He doesn't know how he got into this situation, but he sure is here, and he sure as hell doesn't know how to get out.

Obi-Wan "I don't need to get pregnant, I have three million stepchildren" Kenobi

I definitely love "clones all want to make Obi-Wan's heats less stressful" but like in a different way from Whatever The Fuck Anakin's Got Going On.

Obi-Wan using the force to dull the pain in a Shiny's broken leg while the medic works on it and the Shiny just mumbles "Thanks mom" and everyone gets very embarrassed and pretends it didn't happen.

But then it happens again. And again.

Obi-Wan asks for an explanation from Cody and gets a halting response that, since Jango is technically their father, and his scent has been all over Obi-Wan recently... and Obi-Wan puts in a lot of effort to take care of them all.......

Anakin overhears the clones calling Obi-Wan "mom" and just. The most judgmental eyebrow raise.... Mostly in the sense of "You never let me call you dad" "Thought you said you weren't anyone's parent." "Hey, hey, Obi-Wan. What the fuck."

BOBA. BOBA ABSOLUTELY CALLS OBI-WAN MOM WHENEVER POSSIBLE. IT'S DEEPLY FRUSTRATING.

Obi-Wan eventually manages to admit that he's uncomfortable with it at minimum because of the gendering the word has for him, can they at least use the neutral 'buir' instead?

Word spreads like fire, takes like two days max for everyone to switch.

(Anakin demands cuddles as compensation for not getting to call Obi-Wan any true parental term for years.)

[squirrelwrangler]

Hi! I found your tumblr because you reblog Silmarillion stuff. :) I saw some of your posts about WOT, and I was curious about it... Are the books good? Because from what I've read about them so far they sound kind of sexist? This is a genuine question, I'm not trying to start discourse. I just figured i'd ask you because you also like the Silm, so you obviously have good taste :)

Okay, so you're a Tolkien fan so you're used to the sexism discourse in old dead white guy fantasy. Which, unfortunately, Robert Jordan counts as since he died of a rare blood disease less than a decade ago. And hey, I like what I like and won't claim that I don't like some popcorn books/shows and 'trash'. But yes, I love Wheel of Time, its warts and all. And there are large parts of it that I hate or skip or think is weak- in part because it is so so so so very very massive, there's a graphic out there somewhere that compares the word count of WoT as that of A Song of Ice and Fire + Hobbit-LotR-Silmarilion + Harry Potter + a few other series to get to the same number.

Now, WoT is more formative to me than any of Tolkien's work, I am honest and self-aware to admit. Which is sort of funny, because of the irony. See, the first Wheel of Time book was published in 1990. And pretty much if you were writing epic fantasy back then, the publishers wanted authors to recreate LotR in plot and feel. So the publishers forced a more LotR-like tone onto Robert Jordan, whose interest was in world-building and a focus on a Chosen One hero who did NOT want to do this prophecy stuff (I'm also overjoyed that Dune is getting its more faithful big adaptation at the same time that WoT comes out because there are parallels). Which nowadays a reluctant hero doesn't sound all that revolutionary, nor that the books have a GIANT ensemble cast, or a strongly defined hard magic system with clear rules and systems that isn't just a copy of the D&D rulebook, or that there is a HEAVY focus on political scheming - or that the gender divide for characters is closer to equal (the first book has a mostly male skewed pov chapter, but then it starts to even out and most of the later books if tallied up are told from 50/50 or more female POVs). For instance, the Gandalf/Dumbledore figure is a middle-aged bi woman. By Book Three or Four the series can in no way be mistaken as a LotR clone.

Now, the author was a cis white vietnam vet dude and he wasn't perfect at writing female characters and there's dated gender politics - but unlike contemporaries, he was trying to grapple with gender, he made the effort to focus on female characters. Egwene, Elayne, and Nynaeve are almost or as important as Mat, Perrin, and Rand. In-universe almost all the societies are skewed politically to favor women as much -or in most cases more, than men, because in his 'he's confused but he has the right spirit' way, RJ was making a point about patriarchy. The tv show is having to deal with some of the core parts of the worldbuilding that is problematic when it comes to trans - as the magic system has a gender binary. But compared to the fantasy that came before it and its gender issues...laughs.

Are there way too many book fans that seemed to completely misunderstand the series thanks to their own internalized misogyny? Sadly yes. Same fans that also didn't realize that the fantasy world wasn't default white for everyone. (I am so very done with the review bombing of the TV show).

Or hey- I'm also a fan of a lot of shonen manga. Wheel of Time would not put up with how sidelined female characters are in almost all shonen.

The books won't feel like they're aligned with modern sensibilities in part because this is the transitional series. WoT and RJ actually inspired GRRM to write A Song of Ice and Fire and to have that political feuding families work in a fantasy universe. (Seriously, omg, ASoIaF/GoT is to me always will be the poor man's WoT. GRRM's POVs are more distinct from one another and thus technically better writing for most part- but worldbuilding and plot and characters and prophecy and shit, lol, WoT hands down win. Also, while there's a problem with BSDM/bondage kink undertones and such especially as you go on- actual sexual violence is VERY rare in WoT. And again- it sits between LotR and GoT in describing violence and battles. But also the masterclass in foreshadowing and symbolism and meta-story ...eat your heart out, GRRM). There is queer rep but it's mostly alluded, wink-nods, and not for main characters.

There's a lot of fantasy fans on youtube and other places that break down WoT and the issues and strengths/weaknesses, impact, etc...

But, the thing is: I read the first 8 books in a heady rush of enthusiasm when I was fourteen, maybe fifteen years old - and even though each book was clocking in of average about 900 to well over 1000 pages (they are lovingly dubbed The Bricks by the fandom), it took me about twelve days because i. did. not. stop.

I cannot objectively judge this series.

[abyssal-memories-and-dreams]

Headcanons! - KH Protagonists in TWST Dorms

Hi, Luvs!

I hope you've been doing good. In light of both the 2nd Anniversary of Twisted Wonderland and the 20th Anniversary of Kingdom Hearts being just yesterday by the time that I write this, I wanted to do a little fun headcannon and place the KH protagonists into TWST dorms. This is only going to be with all the trios, but let me know if you want me to do more characters! With that said, I do hope that you enjoy!

Warning: This will go into slight spoiler territory for Kingdom Hearts, so if you want try go and catch up with the story, feel free to skip this. Otherwise, enjoy!

Destiny Islands Trio!

Sora (Savanaclaw)

Sora has an unrelenting hold on the friendships that he has with nearly everyone in the franchise. His morals never differ away from his goals in a way that he’s able to stay consistent in his efforts. No matter what situation he’s in, Sora will always try and find a way to make things right.

Riku (Diasomnia)

Yes, I am indeed aware of the irony behind putting Riku in Diasomnia, but please here me out. I believe that Riku’s maturity, combined with the fact that he’s the only one of the original trio to successfully become a keyblade master, makes him a very eligible candidate for NRC’s strongest leading dorm, especially considering how much he learns to use his strengths to his advantage.

Kairi (Pomefiore)

Despite being a rather conflicted character for the fandom, I think that Pomefiore would reflect a lot of what she has for her goals. Even if they don’t reflect well in KH’s main story, Kairi cares a lot about her friends and is willing to be more active in order to help them. Despite her attempts not going as planned, she never gives up on her goals, always thinking about what she can do to help.

Sea Salt Trio!

Roxas (Heartslabyul)

Roxas was probably the hardest character to sort into, but after some thinking, I believe that Heartlyabyul would be the best choice. Given that he would rather takes things into his own hands than to let situations occur around him, I believe that combined with his sometimes short-tempered nature he could be a nice reflection to that of the Queen of Hearts' stern nature.

Axel (Scarabia)

Despite being a wiser older brother figure to both Roxas and Xion, Axel can be coniving and deliberate in his actions. Since this is someone who has brutally betrayed multiple people in his own organization to help his friends, Axel is good at getting the situation to work in his favor, even if he has to make hard decisions.

Xion (Ignihyde)

Compared to all of the other characters, Xion is most known for how much she gets treated like a puppet, even more so than Roxas. Nonetheless, I still put her into Ignihyde due to her more timid nature making her more compatible with other dorm members. At least when considering the beginning of her story, she really only opens up more to people that she’s close to, which is something that’s reminiscent of Idia specifically.

Wayfinder Trio!

Ventus (Octavinelle)

While Ventus shares a lot of common traits between both Sora and Roxas, I don’t think Ven would fit with either Heartslabyul or Savanaclaw. I’m putting him into Octavinelle because I think about all, his desire to help his friends is something that would be beneficial as a student for that dorm. Like Aqua, I’d be able to see him providing help for students when they need him the most.

Aqua (Octavinelle)

With Aqua, her generosity and kindness makes it easy for those to approach her. In the case of Twisted Wonderland, it’d be easy to get people to trust her and for her to help them out if she’s able to. And no matter what, I feel like she’d always make sure that whoever comes to her for help always gets something positive out of her actions.

Terra (Savanaclaw)

Terra’s history is not a pleasant one, but above all else, he does remain loyal to his closest friends and allies. Even as he’s been swayed to the dark side, he still holds his friendships with Aqua and Ventus on a pedastal, something that I believe holds value as a Savanaclaw student.

[lubdubsworld]

Blackberry Winters.

Part 1

Check part one for warnings 💔

Part 2.

Namjoon stared at his mother, her words registering but not quite sinking in. He blinked, a couple of times and swallowed dryly, trying to gather his wits that felt like they'd been scattered to the four winds. There was a dull ringing in his ear, a feeling of impending horror and he had to fight to bring himself back to the present.

"She is...?" He couldn't even say it. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realised the irony of it. It wasn't supposed to makes him feel that way. The reason he had taken her to bed was for this : a heir to take over the duties of the head alpha after him. And yet, he knew that he couldn't just ignore all the things that would come with having a pregnant mate. All the added responsibility.

At the heart of it , Namjoon was exhausted.

He had been trained for this position but it didn't make it any easier. His wolf yearned for solitude and serenity, peaceful quiet where he could contemplate life and all its mysteries but the duties and responsibilities kept piling up. He had no time to indulge in such whimsical fantasies. From daybreak to sundown, he drowned in problems that demanded solutions, issues that required his intervention and he was always giving so much of himself to so many.

It was as taking a toll.

And now here was the promise of another new soul. A pup. Fully dependant on him for survival. It was hard to be ecstatic.

" Why do you look so surprised? Have you not been sleeping with her?" She frowned, moving closer to the small wooden bench in the corner of the room. She sat down, primly adjusting the large swathes of her skirt. Even at her age, she was a beauty and despite being a widow, she was treated with great respect by all the wolves in the clan.

" I have... Of course...I just didn't expect her to ...so soon. " He muttered hesitantly. He made a quick calculation, Conceived at the end of autumn meant the child would be born at the end of summer. Rains and more rains. He would have to commission the weavers to make a lot of warm blankets and thick bedding for the babe. And make sure that all the birthing huts had their roofs mended. He felt an ache in his chest. He knew he had to have a heir. It was part of what he was responsible for. But he wasn't ready to be a father yet. Especially not with someone like her.

" You haven't been very subtle in your disdain for her, Joon. It makes me wonder of perhaps I have failed in teaching you the ways of a husband." His mother's sharp voice made him wince.

His parents had been deeply in love with each other. His mother had been an equal contributor in running the clan, his father's most trusted confidante. He couldn't imagine having something like that with the woman he had rather recklessly chained himself to for life. But he couldn't be openly defiant in front of his mother.

So he bowed.

" I've tried to talk to her mother. She looks at me like I'm some marauding villain."

Lady Kim scoffed.

" Because, for all she knows, you may as well be one. Think of who she is, how she was raised. Her mother died when she was eight and she has been keeping house for her father since then. It Is a miracle she knows how to read a few words and to write her own name. Old man Gong is unkind and cruel and I've only ever watched him treat her like an unruly dog that needed discipline and never like his own flesh and blood. She knows men to be cruel and powerful and capable of doing her great harm. Add to it your status as the head of the clan, of course she thinks you're dangerous. "

" am I to be blamed for her childhood now?"

" Don't be obtuse. That is not what I'm saying. I just want you to consider her upbringing, before you write her off as dramatic or hysterical. "

Namjoon sighed deeply.

" Alright, mother. I'll try to talk to her again. "

And he knew that he had to. If he wanted some semblance of peace in his life, he would have to make an effort with his wife.

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

Jiah sat by the haybale near the barn, cross-legged on the dirty floor as she watched Misu and Loshim, two of the stable boys tend to the horses. She stared at the careful way they brushed the large beasts, their tone gentle and soothing as they murmured reassurance to the agitated animals. She found it fascinating, how even an animal that powerful could feel fear and anxiety. It made her feel better about her own shortcomings.

From a very young age, she had known of her flaws. She was jittery, prone to cold sweats and breathing problems, easily frightened and absolutely terrified of confrontation of any kind. Her parents had been, to put it lightly, unkind. They had seen her as a burden, as something broken and useless and cumbersome and that had done nothing for her self esteem.

To make matters worse, they didn't let her attend lessons with the other omega girls, her education limited to scribbled writing on granite with chalk when her father was feeling bored or charitable. She could read a few words with difficulty . Could write her name out if you gave her some time and patience.

At first, her ignorance had been embarassing but over time she realised her education wouldn't serve her much purpose.

She thought of herself as something temporary and fleeting. Not meant to leave any lasting impression on the world. So it was alright if she didn't know what every other girl her age did. She was going to live and die in that hut near the boundary walls..... She would have no use for fancy words or exotic dances.

Or so she hd always believed.

So when the head alpha had asked for her hand in marriage, she had nearly passed out from her heart giving out.

Namjoon was seven years older, almost thirty winters old and she had only ever caught glimpses of him when he came to check on her father's watchpost occasionally. He was a tall man, strapping and intimidating with dragon eyes that glowed red. And one evening he had stopped by her side when she had been tending the beets and potatoes in the small vegetable garden out back.

He had stared at her for a few long minutes while she had sweated in nervousness and then he had promptly asked for her father. When the man had Stepped in and told her father that he was looking to make her his bride, the old man had been jubilant while Jiah had been confounded.

She hadn't wanted to say yes but she had been too much of a coward to say no. Besides, she didn't know if saying no would have any repurcussions....she didn't want to risk offending the literal head of the entire clan. What if they banished her? What would become of her then?

And so she had said yes. And here she was.

Mated to the man for life, her wolf connected to his and his mark on her neck and now....his child in her womb.

She felt the familiar stirring of panic, digging her nails into her palm to ground herself .

Jiah had long come to terms with the fact that her mind was not her friend. It sometimes tried to attack her , tried to make her feel irrational things. It convinced her that she was a bother, that she was useless, that she was a burden. It also tried to tell her that she was in danger, that she had to run and avoid and get away, even when she was perfectly safe.

When she had first come here as the head Alphas new wife, her brain had wrecked havoc on her senses. Had made her feel like a hunted animal, always cowering and hiding and trying to disappear . Namjoon had tried to be friendly, tried to be courteous and all she had done was hide and recoil, skin ice cold and words practically non existent. She hadn't said a word to him those first few days and even the bedding had been a nightmare, her entire body stiff as a board and she knew that he had probably felt like he was making love to a corpse.

She regretted it. Deeply. But there was not much she could do about it now. Besides she wasn't sure she even wanted to. It was obvious her husband's affections lay elsewhere. She had seen the way he looked at that courtesan. Had seen him sneak out for walks with her, had seen them huddled together in the room with all the scrolls and leather bound books.

Jisoo was a beautiful omega, well read and trained in musical arts. She played the gayageum and the flute, knew how to entertain guests with a perfect ceremonial dance and she was always at the helm of every festivity, dressed in vibrant fabrics and full of life.

She was also madly in love with Namjoon.

Jiah sighed, watching the horses paw at the dirty stable floor. She wanted to get to know her husband, yes. But she knew that even if she did, he would only find her wanting and inadequate in all ways.

And that was just not acceptable .

She maybe self aware when it came to her short comings but she also had her pride.

She would rather live like this. Tucked away like an embarassment, hidden like a dirty secret because then there would be no piercing gaze weighing her against her peers and declaring her broken.

Yes.

Pregnant or not, she wanted nothing to do with her husband.

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

" Are you feeling well now?" Namjoon's voice startled her, eyes going wide as she looked around the resting quarters , gaze finally falling on the man standing near the large table on the side. Namjoon was bent over the rough oak surface , papers spread out in front of him, an oil lamp burning bright nearby, casting a sepia shadow on the man himself and she hesitated, debating the pros and cons of excusing herself to go see his mother instead. Maybe claiming a headache?

In the end she did neither, resolving to at least make an effort with this.

" I'm well, alpha. " She swallowed the lump in her throat. " I'm sorry for inconveniencing you. "

He straightened, turning around to look at her finally.

" Do you wish to move into another room?" He said briskly and she startled.

" Another room?"

" Now that you are with pup, there's no reason for us to keep sleeping together. I prefer having my own space. "

Jiah felt the blood rush through her ears. This shouldn't hurt but it did and she could feel the self loathing flood her senses. She stared down at herself, the lack of beauty and the utter lack of any kind of elegant upbringing. Of course he didn't want to stay with her any longer. What had she been thinking , agreeing to this farce of a mating?

" I... Alright. "

Namjoon turned away from her.

" Good. I've already arranged for all your things to be moved to the west wing , next to the gardens."

Far away from his rooms, Jiah thought bitterly. The sudden realization that Namjoon had been looking for some sort of brood mare and not a mate hit her . And it suddenly made sense that he hd picked her.

Someone easy to boss around.

Someone who wouldn't demand anything from him, loyalty or affection or attention .

And it irked her for some reason.

Why did he get to treat her that way? Why must she put up with it?

But she stayed quiet because she wasn't sure what to say.

" You can leave now, Jiah. " He said dismissively and she hesitated before stepping out of the room.

And she wondered if with her departure, someone else would be taking her place in his bed.

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

Authors Note : would you guys like first person narrative or should I continue in third person? 👀

[emperor-palpaminty]

can we have some badass tech

Why yes, yes you may, that is my fav tech

I also got carried away so tech has a lightsaber (badass) and he's also an a+ bf (also badass)

You stood in the middle of the dark woods, saber bright against the depths of the endless evening. You exhaled, reaching out with the force. You felt no one- no other living, breathing being.

Your heart dropped, remembering what you had told your men. You must stay, I must go alone. The battle is mine.

You had recalled the moments alone, before fleeing the Havoc. You had been cleaning your saber, folding your robe softly, and a soft voice sounded from behind you. 

“General,” Tech had said, voice constricted. “You have a low chance of surviving. This target-”

“-Is none of your concern, Tech.” You finished the sentence for him, as calmly as you could. Your voice, it was... cold. There is no attachment, you reminded yourself, only the Force.

Your Jedi vows crumbled when he gloved hand had lightly pressed into yours. “General,” His tone dropped lower. “We cannot let you do it alone. I- I cannot.” His jaw tightened in resolve. By the universe and its stars, his heart was beating, rapidly, revealing every confession it had been eager to hide. Yet, only fear brought it out.

Smiling sadly, you had turned to him. “I’m aware of that, Tech.” You hesitated. “I’ll call you if I need anything.” You pressed your robe into his hand that had briefly been in yours. You hesitated, then pressed the cylinder of your shorter saber into his fingers, the metal cool through his glove.

“My weapon is my life.” You said, your fingers brushing on his. “I’ll return for that.” You started out but, like a puppy, he began to follow, open mouthed, hand still offering the weapon. You turned, eyed stinging for a moment. “Good soldiers follow orders, Tech."

The clone's brows creased, filling in hurt, but he nodded. "Yes, General." He said softly. Tech looked down at the lightsaber, squeezing it softly, glancing up to respond, say something, beg her to reconsider going solo.

But you had already been gone, and you were alone on the treacherous plains of Korriban. The planet had marinated in the dark side since the Sith Wars, and you could still feel remnants of evil and pain. You moved on the rocky terrain, hood pulled up to offer some solace from the wind.

Sith acolytes were the bane of the Jedi's exsistance. They would run out, strike at a jedi, and run away. The Dark Side, you recalled from your early lessons, were a doorway to fear and pain. And passions and attachments lead to that.

Your heavy heart tried to release your men, your attachment and unique love for each of them. Tech's hurt had wounded you especially. You could have told him, embraced him, told him you would survive on love and come back to the ship for him.

But instead, you sat down, and crossed your legs, and waited.

___

A disturbance in the force tugged you out of your meditation. You stood, reaching for both your sabers, but then recalled you had given your short one to Tech.

My weapon is my life.

The irony was not lost on you. Your life, in the hands of a man you wouldn't see again, and yet you were pacified, knowing that, perhaps. He would understand your cryptic Jedi way of saying you had a deep attachment to him.

You placed your hand on your saber and held it out to your side, tugging the hood of your shirt off your head and standing.

Ahead of you, the wind picked up, and sand from rocks kicked up in an angry storm. In it, you knew, was the acolyte, and you stood your ground. If this was your death you would die as a Jedi. There was no passion, only peace.

The acolyte emerged from the dust, saber already ignited. "Jedi," He snarled through the wind. The twi'lek's skin had pallored yellow, the color of illness. "You have come to grant me the rank of Sith Apprentice."

"And I have come to see if the Light can call to you." You exhaled, smoothing your thumb over the hilt of your blade.

The twi'lek's irridescent eyes narrowed, sharp teeth bared. "Then you shall die."

You flicked on your blade, widening your stance, ready for death as it charged you head-on.

___

Tech ran.

He had scouted from the cliffs of Korriban, scouting for the General, Hunter leading him. Hunter had frozen, head turning. "The Force," he had said softly. "It's here."

Tech was thankful yet again for Hunter's tracking abilities. His higher senses could hear the hum of the force, perhaps hear the clash of sabers. "Thank you, Sargent. The temple cannot be far."

Hunter nodded, hesitating. "You sure you're good on your own?"

"I am." Tech nodded, tugging his visor down, the click of latches filled in determination. "You take the others and destroy the old sith temple. I can't leave her on her own."

Hunter smiled softly, gently tapping Tech's bicep armor with his hand. "Go get a sith."

He intended to.

Tech yanked out his blaster, just one of the pistols, and aimed carefully. He didn't want to shoot unless the general needed help- you could handle yourself, but just in case, he had to be here, waiting, to make sure you were safe.

___

You retreated from the acolyte, calling on the force to give you a second wind. The acolyte was starting to wear down, but he was channeling his hanger into every swing. It was hard to remember how to fight with one saber, especially since you were so used to having dual sabers.

You felt a disturbance.

Fear. It thickened the air, swam in it, sabotaged your senses. The acolyte only radiated anger, which could only mean-

You whipped around. The trooper, Tech, stationed at a distance, but his gun steady.

Tech.

Your gaze flicked back to the acolyte, whose gaze had followed yours. The twi'lek smirked, golden eyes pallor in ideas, ideas you didn't like. "You fear for him. It smells delicious."

You ran after the acolyte, who was making a sprint for Tech. "Run! Tech!" You yelled, powering your energy into your legs. Your muscles screamed for mercy, knees buckling under the effort after the long time fighting, but you pushed on. The sticky scent of fear embalmed you, to your very core.

Tech stood, blaster still steady, and braced for impact.

You only saw the acolyte jump, a predator, and land on Tech. One hand reached up and grasped his, keeping the saber away.

The Force failed to reach you. You had called as much as you could into your body for second, third, fifth winds of energy. You crumpled, body aflame. "Tech," you wheeze, throwing out an arm to try and weild the force.

When you glanced back up, Tech was still pushing, but with the one hand. His arm was shaking with effort, and his face under his helmet was contortions.

I have failed him.

Your body shook, coursing against your every begging and demanding thiught to move, do something, anything. Your leg cramped and you groaned, eyes staying on the two men wrestling.

A beam ignited and peirced through the acolyte's back. He froze, body rising, and freezing, then a hiss escaped him and the acolyte crumbled.

Tech disarmed the short saber and dropped it, body relaxing, splaying against the rough surface of the planet.

You jumped to your feet and staggered over, his name forming on your lips, praying. "Tech, are you okay?" You dropped down again, knees shattering under the impact, and you tugged at his helmet.

Tech reached up and removed the helmet, face beaded with sweat, breathing finally slowing. "I'm glad you're alright, general."

You reached down and picked up the short saber resting by him. "Why?" Your voice was hoarse.

Tech cracked a half smile, his gloved hand reaching up to slowly cover yours. "My weapon is my life." He murmured gently, scooting up to sit. "And I wanted to ensure-"

You moved forward, fingers on the saber interlocking with his, and your other hand supporting his head as you pressed your lips to his. Tech, being Tech, mumbled a few more words before fully realizing the kiss was real and he squeezed your fingers, his other hand supporting him leaning off the ground.

In that moment, the storm quelled. There was peace. But your heart burned and your body ached for him, the forbidden touch of his hands. Passiom coincided, danced with and flirted with, the ever present quiescence in your spirit.

He sighed tenderly, breaking the embrace to inhale. He released the lightsaber, head rolling back to fully look at you. "Your weapon saved me today."

"I think you mean you saved me today." You chuckled, hand smoothing over his plasyoid pectoral plate. "You came for me."

Tech shook his head, smiling softly, short curls soft as you ran your fingers in his hair gently. "I'll always come for you. And I suppose I'm not a good soldier."

You laughed and moved to stand, tucking your short saber onto your belt. "Because you kissed your general?"

He smiled sheepishly, reaching up to accept your offered hand of help. "And I didn't follow orders. Which are indirectly to not kiss you as well, so... double whammy, as Wrecker would say."

You laughed, shaking your head softly, looking down as he slid both his gloved hands into yours. The cool body glove slid over your calluses, memorized your wrinkles and scrapes, each one holding a reflex of wielding your lightsaber. "My weapon is not my life, General. When the war is gone and done, I will not have my blasters." He paused, eyes admiring your fingers, dwelling together in joy.

You tugged his hand up, softly kissing where the gloved knuckle met armor. "And I will put up my jedi code. My weapon is not my life, Tech, you are."

He grinned, eyes skimming your grimy and exhausted face in wonder, joy, bewilderment- emotions he did not often display. "I was going to say the same abiut you, General. You are my life, and when the war is done, you will be my all."

[buckyownsmylife]

daddy issues - chapter viii

The one where Ransom doesn’t feel ready to become a father, but he should have thought about it before sleeping with a complete stranger.

When Ransom’s latest one night stand lets him know that he’s going to become a father, he finds himself looking for the qualities he never believed to have so he can become the parent he never got to witness as a child.

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist. 

“Hey, are you busy?” I huffed as I heard Ransom’s voice, especially the concerned tone he was using. It’s not like I didn’t believe he actually wanted to have a serious conversation with me, but more as in I did not want to have that conversation right now, not when I could still remember the night we *almost shared oh-so-well.

“Yes, can’t talk right now.” And that’s all I said before I hung up on him, knowing I was being impolite, but honestly too busy to care. Classes had started and considering next term I probably wouldn’t be here to take care of my usual courses, I had to leave somewhat of a very structured syllabus behind for who was supposed to sub for me.

Days went by where it was pretty much the same. Ransom would call me, I’d give him an excuse to hang up, and then I’d throw myself into work, still adamant on ignoring the fact that a whole human was growing inside of me. I had to schedule a doctor’s appointment, I knew that, but the thought of going there alone and the reality of the situation suddenly hitting me was just too much.

I should have known it was only a matter of time until Ransom grew tired of my efforts to dodge his calls, though.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my mouth hanging open as he walked into my office. When I heard the knocks, I expected it was another student who still hadn’t figured out my office hours yet, so to see him in my work environment was particularly shocking.

The man in question just shrugged, like it was absolutely no big deal that he was in the same environment where I usually planned my courses. “You didn’t answer your phone. I need to talk to you.”

“You can’t keep showing up in random places that you know I’ll be in! First my house, now my workplace…” He actually flinched at my complaint, for the first time since I met him seeming genuinely aware of his mistake.

“I know. I’m sorry. I really needed to talk to you and you wouldn’t answer your phone. I figured coming here would be less invasive than just showing up at your apartment again.” The fact that he actually put thought behind this and considered my feelings about it actually disarmed me.

He was right, this was less invasive than having in my home, considering I did not plan on seeing him at all. This was my work environment, somewhere I always felt empowered in, and not the place where I walked around in pajamas and would hide at when I was in my most vulnerable state.

“Are you gonna throw me out?” He asked me, vulnerability written all over his expression, and I was thrown off whatever wagon I had intended to ride the next time I met with Ransom again.

“No.” The word sounded tired even to my own ears, and that’s because I was. I was tired of running, tired of hiding, tired of being aggressive and dismissive towards someone I knew I would have to eventually work with. I pointed the chair in front of me for him to sit, chuckling to myself as I rubbed my eyes when I realized the perfect irony of this situation. He was the one in my office now.

For a few seconds, we just stared at each other. I was waiting for him to talk - he was the one who seemed so desperate to talk to me, anyway - but it seemed like he needed the time to gather his courage.

Once he started, though… It was clear that he’d been mulling this over for a long time.

“I know you barely know me, and the stuff you do know has probably introduced you to the worst possible version of me… I can’t even say that’s not true. For a long time, that was all I was and all I wanted to be.” He took a minute to breathe, and I patiently waited for him to continue. If anything, it was obvious he was speaking from the heart, and I wanted him to know that I highly appreciated him lowering his defenses for a while to actually let me see who he really was.

“Still, as the man you think I am, I ask for you to give me a chance. Please, listen to me. Don’t do this. Don’t lock me out, don’t keep me away from you and this pregnancy. I can do better. I can *be better. Maybe this kid is exactly what I needed to get my act together. I was able to fix my work behavior, it was my personal life that missed… something to work towards.”

My hand had fallen over my belly, protectively shielding my child from what I’d briefly considered he’d present as a lab experiment for his own self-improvement, but then I understood. I’d seen this before on my research about him - his actions weren’t completely careless and egoistic, they were his response to the internal anguish he had lived through, of not having anything to aspire towards.

“And I really want to be around for this. I want to be around for you. I don’t want my only participation to be… sperm donor.” And there, for the first time since we met, Ransom Drysdale made me laugh with his defense mechanism of joking around emotional moments. 

It seemed like my laughter eased some of the tension in the room, and he even smiled as he continued, “I can’t promise I’ll do a good job. I have absolutely no idea what I’m supposed to do, but I will try my very best - and that’s more than I’ve been willing to do my entire life. I want to be better, for our child and for you. Because you deserve that. You deserve someone to help you go through this too.”

Try as I might, I could not stop the tears from flowing down my cheeks by the end of his speech. I’d blame the pregnancy, even though I knew that was only half of it. The relief was just… indescribable. This is exactly what I’d prayed to have when I found out I was pregnant to a man I barely knew.

And so I reached out for his hand, wanting him to know just how much I meant what I was about to say. “Listen, I screwed up too. I let gossip get the best of me. The truth is, I’m scared of relying on someone and then having to figure it all out by myself, once again. So I need us to start small, okay? Maybe if we build this friendship on a foundation that’s different from the pregnancy, I can start to trust you with it, too.”

He nodded understandingly, lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but I beat him to it. “Would you like to meet me at the bar tonight? Ana has been bugging me to go and I promised I’d accompany her there tonight. I think it’s more your scene than a night in with chocolate and movies.”

His mouth closed at that, and he laughed, eyes crinkling with humor as he nodded at my words. “You are right. That does sound good to me.” We stayed like that for a while, just relishing in each other’s presence. “So, meet you there?” He asked, and I could see there were still some underlying trust issues there. I did spend the last week avoiding him, though.

So I squeezed his hand before confirming, “Meet you there tonight.”

[thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters]

Bathe in Sin

Summary: A stubborn Sam leaves the bunker and Lacey goes with him. After days of trying to get through to him, she decides on a different approach to help him blow off steam. 

Created for: @cockslut-padalecki​‘s Decade Under the Influence Challenge

Prompt: “Dressed to kill, you look so right. I am drunk with lust tonight. Your wounds are opening wide, and they might be just my size” - Side Walk When She Walks by Alexisonfire

Pairing: Sam x OC

Warnings: 18+ PLUS ONLY!! Angst, unprotected sex, rough, my unstoppable obsession with how large Sam is shining through here and there

Word count: 2.9K

A/N: This is my first time posting an explicit smut fic. I tried to do the lyrics and the vibes of the song justice. Let me know what you think! Feedback is the best fuel for every writer <3

Beta: @princessmisery666​

|| JJ’s Masterlist ||

(gif)

It was the first night in their third motel since leaving the bunker. Lacey wasn’t sure if Sam was looking for a hunt, or maybe he didn’t want Dean to find them. She doubted Dean would be looking for them. Neither brother was going to concede anytime soon. 

Knuckleheads.

Lacey could smack herself for not having realized sooner how serious their falling out was. She wondered, if she had only stepped in a little bit earlier, things wouldn’t be the way they were now. They would have been home, where they belonged. She would be sitting around the table with the two brothers, rolling her eyes at one of Dean’s stupid jokes while Sam looked at her with that peaceful smile he only got when it was just them. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t understand why Sam was upset. Dean had lied to him. Again. He said he did it to protect his little brother. Again. Sam got angry with Dean. Also, not new. But this time he had packed a bag and bolted out the door. Lacey had barely had any time to grab her own duffle and follow him.

It hadn’t been her choice to leave home, but if it meant she at least got to be with Sam while he figured this out, she would bite her tongue and get through it with him. The problem wasn’t that she didn’t support Sam. She would die for him without a second thought. The problem with this situation was that it was a waste of time. Lacey knew the brothers would come to their senses and make up eventually anyway. She just wished she knew when so she didn’t have to wonder when she’d sleep in her own comfortable bed again, or get to use a shower of which the water stayed warm for longer than three minutes.

Sam was stubborn. Lacey had figured that out soon enough when she got to know him. Despite that, she fell in love with the man. Maybe even a little bit because of it. She knew he could handle all this. He just needed some time.

She had brief text-exchanges with Dean to let him know they were all right, but the brothers hadn’t spoken since their argument. That was over two weeks ago.

Sam had been on edge from the moment he hightailed out of the bunker. Lacey tried to talk some sense into him multiple times. During the long car rides, Sam would turn the radio volume up to end the conversation. At night in bed, he would say he was tired and turn off the light. The few times she did manage to get him to say something, Sam would tell her Dean was the one she should be trying to talk to. In the texts from the older Winchester, she got the same response about Sam.

Lacey wanted to grab both brothers’ pride and stick it where the sun couldn’t reach. She was usually a pretty patient person, but when she saw the people she cared about hurting because of something so stupid, something they could fix so easily, she got frustrated.

One night, Lacey had pushed Sam a little too far and he snapped at her, telling her to get lost. She hadn’t even been able to turn around to leave before he was in front of her, grabbing her hand and looking at her with regret deep in his eyes. She’d stayed. And Sam apologized a dozen different times that night, in a dozen different ways.

Following that night, Sam seemed to have realized he had to be more careful who he directed his frustration toward. He wasn’t angry with Lacey, he was angry with Dean. And, Lacey knew, with himself, but that was a conversation he definitely wasn’t ready to have yet.

Day after day, Lacey was hyper-aware of how tense Sam was. She had exhausted most methods to get him to talk about it and face the problem. She had to come up with a new plan. Maybe what Sam needed was a distraction, a way to forget for a moment. Lacey knew just the thing to help him blow off steam.

Sam needed to get lost in something other than his frustration. She wanted him to get lost in her.

Lacey was still in the bathroom when Sam came back from his supply run that night. When she came out, he was putting away the last of the food in the small motel room fridge. Lacey walked into the room barefoot, wearing nothing but one of Sam’s large shirts over her underwear.

Upon hearing her approaching, Sam glanced over his shoulder. He frowned and looked at the clock on the wall, before looking back at Lacey. “You’re going to bed already?” he asked. “It’s only nine. I thought we could go into town, catch a movie.” 

Ever since he’d snapped at her, Sam had been trying to find ways to make being away from home more enjoyable for her. Lacey knew he felt guilty, and she appreciated the effort, but tonight she had other plans.

“I thought we’d stay in tonight,” she said. “There’s something we need to discuss.”

Sam took in a sharp breath before slowly closing the fridge and standing up straight. Though there was a few feet left between them, he was still towering over her. A disapproving look shone in his eyes.

“Lace, I told you, I don’t want to talk a-”

“It’s not about that,” she quickly cut him off. Lacey’s lips pulled into a conniving little smile. Her finger caught a lock of her hair and started twirling it. “I was just wondering…”

As her voice trailed off, Sam’s eyebrows raised. She could tell he was slowly catching on to her mood, and so she continued.

Her hands disappeared underneath the shirt she was wearing. “I was just wondering…” she said again as she swiftly pulled down the pair of panties that had been hidden by the shirt’s fabric. She bent forward to guide the piece of lingerie down her bare legs. “What you think of these.” When she righted again, it was dangling from her outstretched index finger. “I bought them new the other day.”

Sam took in the laced fabric. It had always been her favorite style of lingerie to wear, and his favorite to see on her. The irony wasn’t lost on either of them.

Lacey noticed Sam’s eyes had darkened to that familiar shade of lust. She rubbed the insides of her thighs together. Sam still hadn’t said anything, so she continued.

“It’s a matching set,” she innocently informed him as she let the panties drop on the floor. Sam’s eyes didn’t follow them down, they stayed right on her. They watched her pull the straps of her bra down her arms, and through the sleeves of his shirt. They took in the way she reached behind her back and unclasped the second piece of the set.

This time she didn’t hold it up for him to look at. She just gave the bra a quick tuck and let it fall from beneath the shirt, onto the floor at her feet.

A new form of tension hung in the air between them. Lacey let Sam evaluate the situation in silence for a moment. Let him look at her, standing in front of him, knowing she was fully naked underneath his shirt.

She averted her gaze, looked down at her bare feet and started drawing circles into the carpet. After listening to a few deep heavy breaths from Sam, Lacey glanced up at him through her lashes and asked, “Well? Do you like it?”

Sam tilted his head to one side, then the other, rolling his shoulders to loosen the muscles in his neck. His eyes moved down from her face to her chest. Lacey knew what he was looking at. Her nipples had gotten hard and were now prominently standing out through the fabric of the shirt. Sam’s fervid eyes took in the sight.

Then he finally moved closer to her. He crossed the distance between them in barely two strides. His hands found her hips and pulled her in. Lacey wrapped her arms around his neck and Sam dipped his head down.

“I think,” he hummed in his low voice, his lips brushing her ear, sending shivers down her back, “you look good in anything.” Bending his knees slightly, he easily lifted her up, guiding her legs around his waist. The shirt rode up her thighs, revealing her bare ass. When Sam hoisted her up a little higher, her cunt rubbed against the rough fabric of the waistband of his jeans. The friction caused a soft whimper to escape her lips.

The build-up had heightened all of Lacey’s senses. She could feel how wet she’d gotten solely from the way Sam had been eyeing her.

“However,” he continued as he started walking forward, “I think you look best trapped between me and the closest wall I can press your pert little ass up against.” As Sam finished his filthy thought out loud, Lacey was pressed tight between Sam’s hard chest and the motel room wall. He put his hands against it on either side of her head and leveled his forehead with hers to look into her eyes rather sternly. “You wanna play, huh?” he said, sounding askew.

Lacey nodded, looking deep into his eyes.

“Use your words,” he chastised her, his voice hard.

“Yes.” She licked her lips feverishly. “I want to play, Sam. Please?” Her hips bucked against his, desperately looking for more friction.

Sam smirked at her politeness. “How could I ever say no to that?” he mused. “Look at you, so eager for me.”

“Sam,” Lacey whined. She continued grinding against him. There was now an obvious bulge in his pants and she could feel it against her needy heath every time she moved.

She reached for his belt, but Sam was faster. He grabbed her wrists with one hand and effortlessly pinned them over her head against the wall. His other hand grabbed her chin firmly and tilted her head back to expose her neck.

His mouth was on her instantly, ravaging her skin, breath hot and teeth scraping. “I heard you last night when you were in the shower,” he grunted between bruising kisses. “You didn’t really think you could keep quiet for me, did you? I could make out those sweet noises of yours anywhere.” He pulled his hand from Lacey’s chin and it disappeared beneath the shirt of his she was still wearing. “Or maybe that’s exactly what you wanted.” His rough fingers found one of her hardened nipples and gave it a nasty pinch.

Lacey let out a sharp moan of surprise. It never failed to amaze her how well Sam knew her. It was true she hadn’t tried to hide her little play time in the shower the night before. She had wanted to give him something to think about. Something to stay on his mind throughout the entirety of the next day, to build up to this very moment. It pleased her to find out it had worked out exactly as planned.

“We better get you what you want,” Sam continued, his hand now brazenly groping her tits underneath his shirt. “You look like you’re about to break open,” she didn’t need to see him to know he was smirking, “and I haven’t even filled you up yet.”

Lacey didn’t doubt his words. She sure felt like it. Her heart was thumping in her chest and she had lost all control of her hips. They just kept bucking against Sam’s body, grinding to find some form of release for the desperate want inside of her.

When Sam let go of her wrists, she climbed a little higher up his impossibly large body to allow him to pull his pants and boxers down just far enough. His cock sprung free and Lacey could feel it probing her ass.

Sam’s hands were gentle yet resolute as he pushed Lacey away from his body. It gave him enough room to pull the shirt off her and reveal in all her beautiful, naked glory what she had been teasing to him during her little show from before.

Before the shirt had even landed on the floor, his hand was pulling his hard length up between their bodies. The tip left some of its precum on Lacey’s lower stomach. Sam didn’t miss a beat and wiped it off with his large thumb before moving his hand up to her face.

Lacey parted her lips without a second thought. In response, Sam’s smirk grew and his eyes darkened further. “Good girl,” he spoke huskily as she sucked his finger clean eagerly.

The salty taste subsided after seconds but Sam didn’t pull out his thumb and Lacey kept her plump lips around him. She never broke eye contact, looking at him with the same lust in her eyes that she saw mirrored in his.

He didn’t need any more verbal communication to know what she wanted, and she didn’t need to ask to know he was about to give it to her.

Their bodies moved in sync. Lacey moved her hips back and Sam positioned himself at her entrance. Her body jerked up when he slammed into her, easily filling her up all at once because of how wet she was. He let out a low breathy sound of approval when he watched her breasts bounce from the movement.

“This is what you want, isn’t it, baby?” he cooed in her ear when he leaned closer.

Lacey’s head was leaning back against the wall and all she could get out was a frustrated, “Yuh.” Her hands reached for Sam, blindly finding his long hair and tugging at it.

Sam’s low growl sent a shiver down to her core. Another tug and his teeth were scraping her neck again. One more and he was finally moving inside her.

She could feel him sliding in and out with ease, giving a few lazy thrusts before he started picking up the pace. She had to move her hands from his hair onto his shoulders to grab on tight when he really started pounding into her.

His movements were ruthless, stretching her open wide for him and no doubt leaving her bruised; just the way she liked it. The sounds falling from her lips spurred him on and he somehow began moving even faster.

Lacey wrapped her arms around Sam’s neck tightly, pulling her entire body against him. Her hands slid underneath the collar of his shirt, allowing her nails to dig into his shoulder blades. Sam let out a hiss at the stinging scratches she left behind. She could feel his wicked grin against the tender skin of her throat. He was still sucking, leaving it raw and sensitive.

She let him release all his frustrations, liberate his grievances. And she let him do it all with her. Every movement felt so right. They were both drunk on desire, grunting and panting while their bodies felt like they were on fire.

One of Sam’s hands sneaked its way between them and down Lacey’s front. His large fingers found her clit. He wasted no time starting to circle the bundle of nerves, sending a jolt of deliciously excruciating pleasure straight up to her core.

“Sam,” Lacey moaned into his shoulder, “Baby, I…”

“It’s okay,” he breathed. “Let go.” His hips snapped sharply.

Somewhere far in the back of her mind, Lacey was aware that that was exactly what she was supposed to be saying to him. Then Sam hoisted her up just a little higher and she lost all sense of thought when he hit her from a different angle. Even if she’d still been to her full senses, Lacey wouldn’t have been able to stop herself snapping from the pressure.

“Let go,” she heard Sam say again. Her hips bucked and her body shook as she came. With her walls squeezing around him, Sam’s body tightened against her. She could feel him emptying his load inside of her.

Her name and his praises fell off his lips in the same sloppy rhythm he kept thrusting into her, riding them both through their climax. Lacey’s lips found Sam’s and their deep kiss smothered their moans.

When they pulled apart, Sam caught his breath. He stepped back from the wall and carried Lacey through the room. He didn’t pull out of her until she was hovering over the bed. Then he gently placed her on the mattress. Lacey pulled the blanket over herself as she watched Sam pull his pants the rest of the way down. He took off the rest of his clothes before joining her.

“Feel better?” he asked, a lopsided grin on his beautiful face. The darkness in his eyes had gone but Lacey could still spot a hint of lust remaining.

She nodded, letting out a soft sigh. Then her eyebrows pulled into a slight frown when she thought of how that had hardly been the point of all this. “Yes, but-”

“Me too,” he interrupted her, as if he knew exactly what she was going to say. She realized he probably did.

His hand was on her knee, snaking up her thigh until it reached her core, feeling up the wreckage he’d left behind. “But I bet I can make you feel even better.” And with that same grin still on his lips, Sam fully disappeared under the covers.

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