#before i actually had a pretty steady sense of self that i worked for a long time to get to-- then that happened-- and now im rebuilding-

[heyitstaytay21]

Bored at work, have a deleted scene from The Ghosts Of The Gotham Opera house

I have a few deleted scenes that I just didn't end up liking for one reason or another but couldn't bring myself to actually delete. It's not edited and I don't plan to finish any of the scenes properly.

This takes place somewhere around chapter 40.

Jason Jason can’t sleep. It’s been an ongoing problem for a few weeks now. Thankfully his helmet and his general grumpiness have kept it from being too noticeable. He lays in his cot now, eyes focused on the ceiling of their sleeping box listening to the sounds of the Opera house. He can hear Peter’s steady breathing from his own cot, and Steph’s storing from the girl’s box. Somewhere down in the auditorium Tim is typing away at his laptop, music playing quietly. Jason sits up and scrubs a hand through his hair.  “Jay?” Peter asks. “Bathroom, go back to sleep,” Jason tells him. Peter hums and rolls over pulling his blanket back up over his head. Jason grabs the shirt he’d left on the floor next to his cot and pulls it on over his head as he heads down to the auditorium. He finds Tim in the orchestra pit sitting at Jason’s computer. His legs are pulled up onto the chair and there’s a twizzler sticking out of his mouth. Jason frowns at the three energy drink cans sitting crumpled on the desk.  “I know I know bedtime,” Tim says. Jason lets out a grunt and drops onto the extra chair he’d brought in.  “What are you working on?” he asks.  “Not sure,” Tim admits. “Searching for any abnormalities in the communications between the Green lantern corps.”  “Did you hack the green lanterns?”  “No, I stole Hal’s credentials.”  “I knew I liked you for a reason.” Jason says. He slides down a bit in the chair and props his feet up on the desk. “Did you find anything?”  “No,” Tim admits. “I was thinking about having Kon take me to the fortress of solitude next.”  “You think there’s something out there?” Jason asks.  “I don’t know,” Tim admits, “But Peter seems to, doesn't he? He’s not exactly subtle about it and I don’t think even he knows the real extent of his Spider sense.”  “Bruce hasn’t found anything either?”  “No,” Tim sighs and slumps back in his seat rubbing at his eyes. Peter’s been acting off for the past few weeks. He’s trying to hide it, trying to be his normal self but there’s something in his gaze, in his actions. They know that something isn’t right but what could it be? What is it that’s got him so on edge? Bruce is pushing the Justice League to figure it out, Dick has deployed pretty much every hero that’s ever been a Titan. But Peter doesn’t even seem to know what it is that he’s looking for, so it’s not like there’s any solid leads to follow.  Jason scrubs a hand over his face. He needs to sleep. They all need to sleep. Peter’s been running on about three hours of sleep on the nights they can get him into bed. He predicts they have about a half hour before he’s up again and if he sees Jason and Tim both awake he’ll worry about them. He’s got his suit fitting in the morning for the Gala and he’s already stressed enough about the whole thing. Jason’s been debating sneaking in as a waiter just so he can keep an eye on both Peter and Damian, but he can’t trust his brother’s not to do something stupid if they spot him there.  “Could it be Big Blue? Have you found anything about his mission?” “No, nothing at all. I’m not even sure Bruce knows where Clark is right now,”  “That could be concerning,” Jason drops his feet to the ground and pushes Tim’s chair out of the way while he uses the backdoor to the Batcomputer that Tim had put in. He knows that Tim has probably already searched these but a second set of eyes never hurt. Tim throws his legs onto Jason’s lap and pulls his hood up to cover his eyes. Jason hopes that he’ll at least get to sleep. If Tim falls asleep on him then Jason can use it as an excuse for why he didn’t go back up to his cot when Peter wakes up. Tim mumbles something unintelligible and in just a few seconds he’s out like a light. Jason takes the Twizzler out of his mouth to make sure he doesn’t choke in his sleep. 

[gumbaigumbai]

Ramblings on Modern AU Ogata

Modern AU Ogata has so much potential when it comes to the different ways his mental instability could be displayed, along with his living situation as well.. so I'll write down some thoughts I've had/collected below (& I'm well aware Noda mentioned he'd be a dentist but I wanna explore other possibilities)

^ to preface I've read a couple works on ao3 abt this as well so some ideas are heavily inspired

Work: I think a job as a photographer would translate over his sniper skills very well, links such as steady hands and a good eye, staying still in a required position, "shooting", and freelance of course.. Though I don't think this would pay well enough for him to maintain a decent living, so he would primarily work as a morgue attendant for a couple reasons; respect given when needed, no customer interactions (or if so, very few), most talking is between co-workers which I don't imagine there's plenty of, he wouldn't be opposed to being in the space w. all the corpses, it could worsen his mental state (🤤), to an extent links back to his "canon" modern job via medical field

As for the home life; small apartment, can't imagine him caring about upkeeping the place or getting "fashionable" furniture so most items inside are just necessities. while he was only doing photography he used to sleep on a mattress but after the attendant job he upgraded to a simple bed. Definitely has a computer setup that he saved up for, used for editing/organizing his pictures and doom scrolling. I like to think he has some interest that he researches in his spare time, could be really into the history & different types of guns, or if we want to be less on-the-nose he'd enjoy deep sea creatures - just reading up on them or watching videos, maybe those informational documentaries. Also has a small amount of fondness towards Hello Kitty (bc ofc I have to add this), though it's something he's embarrassed to admit (Usami found this out & never let him hear the end of it)

Relationship w. ppl

I think he'd be pretty good at coming off as collected while working (outside of home) but when he's not required to talk with others he's contrived in public, says the bare minimum and leaves. He'd keep in touch with Usami and Tsukishima - they always have to reach out first but in his better moods sometimes he starts talking w. Usami. He used to have some sort of relationship with Tsurumi (relationship not used in a romantic sense here) but they fell out and he doesn't have contact with him anymore. Yuusaku has his # and tries inviting him over for the holidays but he declines most of the time, another instance where you must catch him while he's prone to social gatherings..

Mental state 😻

Okay this is where I take a lot of liberty so I apologize if ppl don't like this… I think he would definitely be depressed to some extent, falling into episodes where he's more of an active suicide risk, but it's not often enough to become debilitating to carry on normally. He wouldn't reach out for help, and would over time get much worse before he ever gets better (I'd like to think in the modern world he'd have a real chance at reformation though). Usami would unintentionally worsen Ogata's mental state by affirming his negative thoughts, though as an avid Usao shipper I have to give myself a treat and pretend Usami would take care of him during his worst times… And wouldn't make fun of his attempt at getting better if he ever enters therapy (delusion works in mysterious ways). Ogata would engage in self-destructive behavior; taking light drugs at a younger age but as he got older he resorted to sh. The first step towards rehab however would be a holiday dinner with Yuu where he actually showed up, and they entered a genuine conversation over his issues after Yuu grilled him enough about his worries.

Anyway, sorry this was so long & I didn't include many other characters, & if you just don't really see this as plausible for him - I like to play with him like a Lalaloopsy in my head

[xiaq]

Why do feelings have to be so confusing???

I’ve never been super into labels, but if I had to choose I probably would have gone with aroace. I kind of figured I wouldn’t ever find someone I wanted to be in a relationship with and that was fine.

But now I’m 30 and somehow in a relationship for the very first time with this person that I love so much. And it’s wonderful and amazing in so many ways, but I also feel so crazy with it??

I feel like a teenager with their first crush but also too old for that and it’s like I don’t know how to trust myself in this because I’ve never felt anything close to this before.

Feeling romantic and sexual attraction for the first time there’s a part of me that’s like how has everyone been living like this the whole time??? It still doesn’t feel like it should be real somehow, even though I’m now experiencing it firsthand.

Anyway I don’t know exactly where I’m going with this, but if you either advice or even just stories to make me feel a little less ridiculous, I’d love to hear them!

I think it's really REALLY important to remember that socially reinforced ideas of normalcy when it comes to exploring sexuality are not, actually, normal. A. Because people are people and what works for one person doesn't work for others. While there's obviously going to be a bell curve on the graph of "when do people typically sort out who they want to kiss (or not kiss) and start doing that" there is going to be a steady, not insignificant, number of folks that are on the upward and downward swing of that bell curve before you even get to the far outliers, and that's to be expected. B. Traditionally accepted timelines for building a sense of sexual identity don't apply anymore. The average age for (first) marriage is creeping back each year. In the US in 1900 it was 26 for men and 22 for women. Now it's 29 and 27 respectively. Women, especially, don't have nearly the pressure placed upon them that they used to to quickly find someone who will take care of them seeing as we can now open bank accounts and own property and work for (mostly) equal pay and all that jazz. So there's that to consider.

But also. Humans, human bodies, are never stagnant. You might have heard the fun factoid that all our cells are replaced every 7 years. That's not entirely accurate, but it's true that the body does regenerate skin and bone and liver and stomach, and so on, cells at a kind of mind-boggling rate. There are things that we're born with that don't change like some of the neurons in our cerebral cortex, I think, but as a species we are generally made to adapt to new experiences and environments so much so that our bodies are in a constant state of change themselves. You're just...doing what you're built to do. Something new has happened and you're adapting to it.

And yes, it can be scary and make you feel very vulnerable when you don't have historical relationship or sex-related context like other people your age might have, but that's when you get to lean on friends and/or talk to your therapist to make sure you're approaching things in a healthy way, there aren't red flags you're missing, etc. Because humans are also pack animals and we thrive in communities in which we can share each others burdens and wisdom.

As someone who also had built what I thought was a pretty clear assessment of my romantic and sexual identity over 29 years, only to have it challenged and rebuilt at 30, I fully empathize with the way you feel. But I leaned into the feelings of confusion (and frankly, giddiness, at times). Who says teenagers are the only ones that get to experience first crushes? Who says 30 is too old for self-discovery? You get to decide how you interact with the world. Who cares what other people are doing if what you're doing makes you happy and hurts no one.

[hiraeth-witch-11]

Bond to Happen: Part 15

Trigger Warnings: canon typical violence, magical self harm, technical suicide (feel free to message me for details) Word Count: 3000ish

You call Matt that afternoon. “Do you really think that going to the WBI is a good idea?”

“I think it’s worth the chance, all things considered.”

“And you really think you and Foggy can protect me? At least give me enough time to find a way out if things go bad?”

“I do.”

“Then I’m in. What do I need to do?”

“Paperwork, and a lot of it. Then we go to the WBI, file for a Review of Identification,

submit some of your blood, and a formal reading of your magic.”

“When do we start?”

Matt made room in his schedule so the two of you could begin that evening. It was a lot of paperwork and you were grateful when Foggy came by to help, no questions asked. Much of it had information only you could answer. When your abilities had begun to show up and how they progressed. Family information with as many details about any nonhuman members as possible. Sleeping habits, eating habits, sexual habits, fears, hobbies. Even your favorite color. The more personal things you filled out on your own, but much of it you let Foggy and Matt record in their professional interpretation of your words.

You call Billy before it gets too late. “Hey Bill, would it be okay if I took a few days off? There are a few things I want to get done before I come back to work.”

“Of course, take as much time as you need. My offer still stands, if you want a couple weeks paid time off, it’s yours.”

“Three days should be fine, no longer than a week. I’ll keep you updated in case things change.”

“I’m here if you wanna talk or if you just want some company.”

“Thanks, Billy.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

You hang up and turn back to Matt who has a strange look on his face. 

“What’s that face for, Matt?”

“You and Russo have gotten pretty close.”

“That’s not a question,” you point out.

“He seems… nice.”

“He is. He’s actually a really good guy.”

“Can I be honest with you?”

“Yeah…”

“Do you ever think it might be a bit much? The presents, the whole ‘shoulder to cry on’ act, catering to your needs? That inhibitor cuff alone is a pretty big gesture to come from a friend who also happens to be your boss.”

You have to fight the urge to be defensive. “I’ve known him for a while, Matt, it’s not like this all came on overnight.”

“You’re right. You’re right.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’.”

“Sometimes he just seems off to my senses. Like there’s something I’m missing. I can never catch him in a lie, his heart stays steady all the time. It’s just strange, is all.”

“Maybe you can’t catch him in a lie because he isn’t lying to any of us, Matthew.”

“Maybe, Blue. Just be careful with him?”

“I’m always careful, Matt,” you bristle before softening your tone. “But I’ll keep what you said in mind.”

*********

You wore your most professional outfit that Monday morning as you, Matt, and Foggy went to the WBI New York office. You were grateful that Matt and Foggy never left you alone through the whole process. The investigators took a few samples of your blood and hair, which was the easiest part of all of it. The magic scan was uncomfortable as they asked you to activate your abilities and hold them in that state. You were honest and told them you were magically exhausted. The technician assured you that as long as you could use a small amount of power, the scan would work. It just needed to see what pathways were lighting up and how.

The technology was a beautifully intricate combination of something like an x-ray with complex spells woven into it.

The whole process took the better part of the day and you were dead on your feet when you finally got back to your apartment.

*********

“Russo.”

“Hey, Billy, it’s me. Are you busy?”

“Hey, sweetheart, not at all. How are you doing?”

“Better actually. The cuff has been a lifesaver. I was wondering if you were free to hangout sometime in the next few days? I was thinking of visiting Central Park since I won’t be as overwhelmed anymore and thought maybe you could come with me?”

“I’d love to, are you free tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yup, I’ll just be home relaxing all day.”

“You deserve the rest, sweetheart. I’ll swing by and pick you up at around 3?”

“That works, I’ll see you then.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Me too. Bye, Billy.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

You smile to yourself as you hang up. 

*********

“It’s so nice to be able to enjoy being outside, Billy. You have no idea how loud everything was before the cuff.”

“I’m glad it’s been helpful.” Billy holds out his arm for you to take as you stroll through the busy park. You take it with a little laugh.

“What?” He asks.

“It’s just nice to feel like a real person again.”

“How long has it been that bad?”

“Most of the time I've known you,” you admit.

“Shit, sweetheart. You shoulda said something.”

“I kind of just accepted it. For a while there at least.”

“And now?”

“Now… I’m trying to hope for something better.”

“You deserve the world. One day, someone will give it to you.”

“Maybe. I’m taking baby steps for now. Matt and Foggy are helping me with some witch stuff, I’ll let you know if anything comes of it.”

“Is this walk part of those baby steps?”

“Yup,” you say, popping the ‘p’ as you speak. “Karen says I need to spend more time with people outside of work.”

“And I was the first person on your list. Aw, sweetheart, I’m touched.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.” You roll your eyes at him as he grins at you.

“I’ll do my best.”

“What have I missed over the last couple days? Fill me in on the office gossip.”

“I’m the CEO, I don’t gossip.”

“Of course not.”

“But now that we’re on the topic, I did hear that Anvil has been divided by some strong opinions on the espresso machine.”

“I knew it. Did Josie end up going through with her plan?”

“She did, no one could tell the difference.” Billy continues sharing how everyone reacted once Josie came clean and how it led to a mild prank war the next day. The two of you were laughing and leaning into each other, enjoying the afternoon when the hair on the back of your neck prickled.

“Stop for a second, something feels wrong.” Your words halt Billy’s animated rambling and his expression turns serious. The sun has barely started setting, warm light still breaking through the trees of central park. There are few things that should be able to penetrate the protection of the cuff. The first and only one you think of in that moment, is if your life is in immediate danger.

“I thought you were wearing your cuff?” He looks down at your wrist and you shake your head.

“I am, I don’t know what it is.” You pull off your cuff to try and get a feel for what’s setting the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

“What do you see?” He asks, leaning down to look into your eyes.

“I can’t see anything, but I have a bad feeling, Billy.” It’s pure instinct, something deep in your gut urging you to run.

“Let’s get back home. You stay right next to me. Got it, sweetheart?” His words leave no room for argument and you nod your understanding. He takes your hand in his, keeping his free hand near his hip, where his gun is. You are almost out of the park, you had mostly stayed on the outskirts anyway. You can just barely see the street when a jolt of fear runs up your spine, telling you to hit the ground. With an unnatural burst of strength, you jerk Billy towards you, dropping to the ground as a gunshot pierces the air, the bullet flying right through the spot the two of you had been.

“Stay low, move behind those trees-”

“There’s more than one, others on the ground around us,” you tell him as your Sight flickers in and out. Billy nodded, pulling out his gun. He didn’t seem rattled at all. He was focused, with a terrifying lethal look on his face. You were glad it wasn’t directed at you.

“Go to those trees and hide, text Frank, but stay very quiet and do not move. Do you understand?” 

“I understand,” you say and make a low dash for a thick pocket of trees with enough bushes around the base that you would be out of sight. By the time you could peek between branches, Billy had already disappeared. You shoot off a quick text to Frank, including your live location and switching your phone to silent.

We are being attacked, multiple armed assailants, Central Park.

Then you stick your phone firmly into the waistband of your jeans, under your shirt and jacket so you don’t lose it in case of a struggle. It is eerily quiet for only a few moments, but those moments seem to drag on for an eternity. Your breath sounds as loud as thunder to your own ears and you work on slowing your racing heart. Your Sight is erratic, like a TV with a bad signal, only blurry images are coming through and so much of them are filled with blood. 

The sound of gun fire ruins any hope you have of calming yourself and now all you can think about is Billy. You can’t see him, in any way, you can’t feel his aura. You can’t hear him, only the occasional unrecognizable yell or grunt mixed in with so many gunshots. In hindsight, you were a little too focused on what might be happening with Billy and not worried enough about your own surroundings. With your Sight, no one with the intent to harm you should have been able to get so close without you noticing. 

You guess you have to accept that your Sight is officially broken when you notice the masked man creeping towards you, not even a dozen paces away. He sees you, you know he does when your eyes lock. You move to run, blood rushing through your ears in a feeling so strangely reminiscent of the ocean. Your panic is all consuming. You are weak. Alone. Unarmed. Sightless. Likely magicless. With no self defense training. All you could do was run, and even that wasn’t enough. The man caught you in seconds, tackling you to the ground as you let out a scream. Your attacker wrenches you onto your back and grips your face.

“What’s your name?” He yells. You shake your head, mouth frozen in fear. He doesn’t like that. The man backhands you causing your head to jerk sharply to the left as you see stars, bright blotches of light to contrast with the dark tinge to the edge of your vision. He jerks your head so you face him again, this time, he presses a knife to your neck. You can’t see it, but you can feel it as it shallowly cuts the vulnerable skin of your throat.

“Your name! Tell me your name!” He demands, spittle flying. You give your legal name carefully and it seems to be what he wants to hear as he drags you upright, keeping the knife close to your neck as you stand. He pulls your back to his chest, free arm pinning you as the other shoves the knife until it connects with skin. You don’t think he intends to kill you in this moment. But he isn’t being very careful with the blade and you’ve been cut twice now. You can feel the blood oozing down your throat.

“RUSSO!” He roars. The only thing keeping you from flinching at the sound is that sharp knife.

“Let her go, Mills.” You can’t see him, but you recognize Billy's voice. You’re relieved that he’s still alive. You knew he was capable, likely as capable as Frank when he acted as the Punisher, but you’d never seen him in action before.

“Drop your weapons first,” your captor orders.

“You know you aren’t making it out of here, Alex. Your team is dead. You only have two options, kill her or let her go. You’re gonna die either way. You just get to pick how quick it is.” There’s a quality to Billy’s voice that you have never heard before. Not when he argued with Frank, not when he yelled at his team for messing up, not when he was trying to scare new recruits. It held his usual confidence, but where he usually sounded playful, now he sounded like a predator toying with his food. Confidence, amusement, anger, murderous intent. A combination you had never expected to hear from the man you knew. 

Billy slowly moves into your view. You admit, your vision is still a bit blurry, but you swear his eyes are completely black, the color spreading into the white of his eye. He’s holding a gun, different from what you originally saw him with, and it’s aimed carefully towards your attacker- and you, given the position you are in. 

Two bangs go through the air and Billy lets out an animalistic snarl of pain as he drops to his knee, trying to see where the shots came from. You struggle as you see blood pooling from his stomach. He moves to stand, to at least aim his gun at the new enemy before they can shoot again. He isn’t fast enough. Another bang and his right shoulder jerked back.

“Not the whole team, Russo. Guess that cozy desk job made you sloppy,” a feminine voice calls out. “Don’t worry, your pretty little pet witch will live. The Boss wants her unharmed, for now at least. You know how he gets. Go ahead and say goodbye before I put you down.”

Time seems to slow to a halt and you are hyper aware of the blood on your skin, the knife at your throat, the throbbing of your cheek. Billy is going to die if you don’t do something. You are going to be abducted and Billy will be dead. 

You refuse to lose him. So you end up doing something positively insane. Something that will kill you. Better to use your death to save someone you love, than live with his death. Your magic reserves are low like usual. Not enough to help in this situation. You need another source of life, another aura that is easily accessible in this moment. The man holding you has no exposed skin for you to grab, and even if he did, you quite literally are not strong enough to pull from his aura forcefully. It’s an unfamiliar practice with an unfamiliar aura. No, your would-be abductors are not an option. You need an aura you are intimately familiar with, one you use and manipulate on a daily basis. 

Blood magic is illegal, and energy cannibalization is used only by the most desperate, inane witches. Well, you never claimed to be smart. In this moment, this heartbeat drawn on into a thousand, you’ve made your decision. You slowly press into the knife, quickening your blood loss without killing yourself immediately, and you draw on the power of your own life. As soon as the connection via blood is made, you force your magic to draw from your own life force. Electricity runs through your skin and you’ve never felt more powerful. A bright flame that will burn out quickly, so you need to be precise. 

A touch of magic to heat the handle of the blade, swiftly catching it as the man holding you drops the weapon in pain. You pull the bangle off your wrist to reduce the block on your energy. You throw a wall of energy in front of Billy, protecting him from any attacks as you whirl around and slash the throat of the man who held you. The knife is light in your hand, the spray of blood warm on your face, the feeling of ending a life a twist in your skull. The woman has opened fire on you, but your magic pushes it off course as you charge her. She meets the same fate as her comrade. You force your Sight to work, checking for immediate threats, before turning to Billy, dropping the wall of energy. You can’t hear his words. You don’t have time to listen anyway. Your heart rate is already dropping. Your hands grasp his shoulder and stomach. You don’t hear the hiss of pain, but you register the movement and order him to stay still. The voice that comes out of your mouth is not your own. It’s empty, emotionless, overlapping in echoes upon itself. The shot to his stomach has done significant damage. Your magic pulls out the bullet and prevents more blood from escaping his body. You are running out of energy, so you take your stolen knife, coated in the blood of your enemies, and drag it against your inner forearm. A movement swift and precise, intended to draw blood, but not deep enough to kill. Your Anima Viverra will kill you soon enough, no need to make it any messier. With the final draw of life from your blood, you place your hands over Billy’s stomach wounds and force every last drop of magic you have into them. 

You don’t hear his words. You don’t feel his hands as they try to stop you. As they try to stop the flow of blood from your skin. As they beg you to stop, to focus on him.

The once fatal, toxin filled wounds are now mostly healed. Satisfied with your work, you allow the exhaustion to consume you as your body tries and fails to heal itself. Then you die. ------------- I don't have it in me to keep up with a tag list right now. Thank you for your interest and support.

[galaxyedging]

Charlie SNL x f!reader

Warnings: angst, infidelity, trauma rehab, unprotected P in V sex.

WC: 3.8k

Rehabilitation

Previous part | Masterlist

Charlie was awake. The relief you felt was immeasurable. The call had come from his best friend, Jake. Your stomach lurched at the thought that he knew what was going on between you. They were close and you knew him pretty well from work. You'd even gone on business trips together before Charlie had transferred departments. No, Charlie would have told you if he knew. 

"Hey. I thought you'd want to see him. He mentioned you." Jake greeted you with a hug. "The doctors, Morgan and his sister are in with him now.

After what felt like forever as you insides chewed themselves up. Charlie's sister and his wife emerged followed by the doctors. The doctors and his sister turned right away from you. Morgan lingered for a moment, wiping tears from her eyes before her gaze caught you.

"Morgan? How is he?" The nerves were evident in your voice, you hoped that was the only thing.

"He's awake. He's more coherent now. At first he was talking but it made no sense. He was slurring under his breath about LA and candles. The doctor thinks he was dreaming in his semi conscious state. I spoke to him, told him I was his wife he said 'Not today'." She laughed until fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. "He rambled on a little more then said something very clearly. He asked for you." Your heart stuttered. "His sister thinks he's so sweet. Like he wanted to check on you because you were there. I know differently. I know he's asking about you because you are fucking my husband."

"I…" you began but there were no words.

"Don't. Just don't. Don't deny it or justify it. It's done. You need to break it off. You are never to come near my husband again. My husband. You need to quit your job. You need to stay away from him so we can fix our marriage. Don't you dare tell him that I know, you tell him it's over and that's it." Despite the fact that she was shaking with rage, her voice was calm and steady.

Behind her Jake approached. "There you are, Charlie's asking for you. Both of you actually."

Barely holding yourself together you found enough voice to speak. "You know. He'll be pretty overwhelmed if we all go in. I'll see him another time. Tell him I'm so happy he's awake."

Work became your focus again. You threw yourself into it, let it consume you. It was better than letting your thoughts consume you. It also kept you out of the house. Daniel was busy too, so he didn't question it, or moan about it. 

A month passed and Charlie called every day. The first time you had answered. His voice sounded different, his words were slightly slurred, it was still nice to hear him. Part of you wanted to just keep him talking, to delay the pain. Trying to do the right thing, you had broken it off with him without mentioning Morgan's words. 

Every day after that, his calls went to voicemail. Every day he asked just for you to talk to him. As much as it ate you up inside, you had to ignore it. Giving Charlie and Morgan some space was the least you could do. Charlie might be a grown man, capable of making his own decisions but as the saying goes it takes two to tango. You had to hold yourself responsible for your actions and try to make up for them.

When the phone calls stopped was when your heart finally broke. That was when things between you were really over. You reminded yourself that you deserved the pain. It was only what you had caused. You deserved to wallow in it. 

One Sunday afternoon that's exactly what you did. Daniel was, thankfully, out on a fishing trip. The house was quiet, the only sounds were of your thoughts haunting you. Laying in bed you let them pile over you until it was just a blanket of white noise. 

You had no idea what time it was when your phone rang. "Hello?"

"Baby, just hear me out. Please." Charlie's voice, he sounded like his old self. The one from before the accident. The one who held you, kissed you, loved you. Every feeling for him that you had pushed down inside erupted to the surface. Tears spang to your eyes, your throat became thick with emotion. He took your silence as permission to continue. "Morgan left me. She couldn't cope with all of this, with all the help that I need. The thought of having to care for me for the rest of our lives, she wanted out. She told me that she'd warned you to stay away. Baby?"

"I'm here. I…I didn't want to stay away but I had no choice. I couldn't cause more problems for you. Not after…" The words stuck in your throat.

"After what?"

"Your accident was my fault." 

"How?! Why would you think that?"

"If I hadn't asked you to come on the trip…"

"If I hadn't gone on the trip, I might have been hit by a car and killed somewhere else. I could have gone out for dinner and choked to death. Honey, you can't do that to yourself. None of this was your fault. None of it. You hear me?"

"Yes."

"Will you come visit me? They moved me to a facility to do my rehab."

"Does tomorrow work for you?"

"Well, I have a dance competition in the morning and skateboard practice in the afternoon." He quipped. "How about lunch?" 

"Lunch sounds perfect." You cradled the phone was Charlie gave you the address.

As far as work was concerned you were having a personal day. As far as your husband knew you were at work. The rehab facility wasn't what you were expecting at all. It was rather homely. The main reception area and the open plan lounge was cheerfully decorated. Flowers and plants were dotted around. It made you feel slightly better about seeing Charlie. All this time you thought he was stuck in some cold, clinical place. The thought of him being comfortable offered you some solace. The walk to his room rattled your nerves with each step. 

Even the bright smile and gentle tone of the nurse who escorted you couldn't keep them in check. "He's been talking about you since he got here. I'm glad you could come."

"Me too." It didn't come through in your tone but you really were. 

All this time with Charlie being awake but out of reach was oddly just as torturous as the coma. As much as you were nervous to see how he was, nothing could take away from the joy of finally getting to see him again. Well, almost nothing. The sight of Charlie sitting in his room knocked you back. His build was a lot slimmer, though that was to be expected. His muscles had wasted during the time he was inactive. There was a slight scar on his temple. He was sitting in a wheelchair rolled under a table by the window. A therapist sat opposite him, encouraging him through his exercises. He was currently squeezing a small ball. Each squeeze of his hand making his arm tremble with effort.

"Good, Charlie. A couple more." His therapist sounded more pleased than Charlie looked. 

A frustrated grimace twisted his beautiful features as he pushed through two more squeezes. 

"Done." His therapist smiled. "And just in time for a visitor. I'll see you tomorrow, Charlie."

Both the therapist and the nurse left the two of you alone, closing the door behind them. It was as if the air left with them. There was too much to say and no words would come. 

Charlie could feel your hesitancy. "That smells good." He nodded to the bag in your hand. 

"Oh. It's Marco's." Having a task to focus on made you feel better. Crossing the room you laid out the take out. As you set the cutlery down, Charlie caught your hand.

"Thank you for coming." He released your hand and turned his attention to the food before he made you too uncomfortable. He knew you blamed yourself for his accident. He knew he wasn't exactly a catch in his current condition so he had no right to expect thing's to go back to where they were between you. You had come to see him, that's all he could ask for.

Charlie tucked into his meal as you picked at your lasagne absently. Your attention was taken by the tremble of Charlie's hands as he cut his chicken. Frustration got the better of him as he dropped the knife down onto his plate.

"May I?" You gestured to his plate.

"You don't have to." He couldn't even look at you.

"I know. I want to." You took up his knife and fork to cut some pieces for him.

"Thank you." He ate a few more pieces before setting his fork down.

"I still can't eat too much. Between my appetite and my jaw."

"Is that normal, after a coma I mean?"

"That part is. It's my legs that they're worried about. There's a chance that there's some permanent damage there."

Tears welled in your eyes. "Hey. I'll take a little damage over the alternative. I'm alive. I'm here with you. I'm pretty damn lucky." His hand had found its way over yours. It was warm and reassuring. He was right. He was here. He was alive. No matter what else was going on, you should be thankful for that.

Soon, your quiet moment of thanks was interrupted by a yawn from Charlie. "Sorry, I usually take a nap about now. Physical therapy can be exhausting."

"Oh. Maybe I can come back another day?"

"Stay? I mean you can stay if you want. I'll let you take a spin in my chair while I'm asleep."

"As tempting an offer as that is. I'd rather stay here with you."

"The bed is big enough for both of us if you want to join me? You look a little tired."

Truth be told, you were exhausted. The night hadn't offered much rest to you. It had only amplified your thoughts. "I am and I'd like that very much."

With some effort, he pushed himself over to the bed. Carefully, he put the break on before putting his feet on the ground. He managed to stand, barely, before falling forward onto his forearms.

"Charlie." You couldn't help but surge forward to help him. 

"I'm good." He rolled onto his side. "I'll admit I may have lost some of my grace while I was in the coma. And I usually do get help with this part."

The extent of his injuries hit you. Charlie was the most independent, self reliant man you had ever met. Suddenly, you didn't know what to do for the best. Did you offer help? Would he be offended? Would he think you didn't care if you didn't? Tears welled in your eyes again. "Sweetheart. It's alright. Maybe my joke telling ability took a hit too."

"I just don't know what to do. I want to help you."

"You just being here is helping." He reached for your hand. "Taking my shoes off would help too." He added with a smile.

Laughing you took off his shoes before you removed your own and climbed in with him. In no time at all, the two of you drifted off into a peace nap. It was the best sleep you'd had in a while. The sun was still high in the sky when you woke up. A look at the clock showed that you'd been asleep for a little over an hour.

"Hey, Beautiful." He pressed a kiss to your cheek.

"Hey, Handsome." You returned his kiss to the corner of his mouth. It was suddenly just like old times. The moments when the two of you were on the edge of something more. All the pros and cons pushing you from either side keeping you pinned in place. After a beat, his lips over yours. The kiss was a little less coordinated, his lips a little sloppy on yours but it was no less perfect. His body moulded over yours. 

"God, I missed you." He breathed into your neck.

"I missed you too." Your breath hitched as his hands slid under your shirt. Having his hands on your bare skin lit the same fire it had the first time. A desperate need for him burned away all rational thought. All that filled your head was thoughts of his lips on yours. The path of his hand, running over your breasts then all the way to your thighs to gather the material of your skirt. As he pushed it over your hips. You pushed at the sweatpants. His eager length pressed into your thigh. Pushing your underwear to the side, to slip himself inside you. Every inch filling you felt like heaven to the both of you. For a while you were content just to lie there, intimately joined with him. His first thrust had you calling his name. The second had your fingers digging into the flesh of his ass, wanting to keep him impossibly deep inside you. He was alive, he was with you, you were whole again. 

"I love you." You moaned into his lips. 

This prompted a few harder thrusts.

"Fuck. I…love…you…I…love…you. Uh.." he panted as he came suddenly. His warmth spread inside you as he filled you. 

"Shit. S-orry. I…" his head dropped to your shoulder as he caught his breath.

"It's okay." You kissed at the slight blush of his cheeks.

"Let me make you cum." He raised up off of you, moving to touch you, his hands trembling.

"I'm good." You caught his hand, lacing your fingers with his. "That was still incredible."

"I'm sorry. It's been a while I haven't even been able to jerk off, with…" He lifted his hand.

"Hey. I should take it as a compliment. After all this time, I can still get you so riled up." You lazily kissed the shell of his ear and up into his hairline, noting the new scar on your way. 

"Oh, you definitely can. You give me twenty minutes….plus another six months of rehab and I will show you just how much." He playfully returned your kisses. 

The tears came to your eyes again.

"I'm just not landing any of these jokes." He pulled out of you, gently replacing your underwear as he did. Dropping to your side, he pulled you close.

"I'm sorry. It's just a lot. I'm sorry. It's not even happening to me and I'm getting overwhelmed. I'm so sorry."

"Baby, that was three sorrys too much. I get it. I've cried, I've screamed about it. I've just had more time to adjust. I cried over losing you. I was a mess. Then I accepted it all. I made a plan to move forward. Then you answered my call and I cried again. They were good tears though."

"Me too."

"Yeah? So I think we've done our fair share of crying. Now it's out of our system, how about we get moving forward? I'm assuming this means that you want to?"

"Oh no. This was just because I can't resist a guy in sweatpants."

"Damn, I've been living in sweatpants. If I'd have known that's all it would have taken I would have sent you a thirst trap."

"Feel free to anyway."

"Seriously, I know this is a lot to deal with but I'm going to get better. I'm working hard. I'll be the man you fell in love with again…"

"Charlie, you are the man I fell in love with. This doesn't change that."

"I can't offer you the same excitement I did before. As you can tell from today, our sex life might take a hit…."

"None of that matters. I love you."

"I love you too."

"Besides you can always send me that sweatpants picture and I can handle my sex life myself."

Charlie giggled like a naughty school boy. "Man, I love you."

Eventually, the two of you moved to get cleaned up. Charlie let you help him into his shower, on the condition that you joined him and he could made you cum at least once. With the help of the shower head he accomplished that while you sat in his lap. Your soft sighs in his ear as you came down from your high tugged at his heart. This is what he wanted. You, happy, relaxed. He wanted this for his everyday life. Marrying Morgan had been a mistake. He'd felt pressured by his family and friends who saw them as a perfect couple. On paper they were, and he did love her at the time, or he thought he did. Their relationship wasn't necessarily bad, just complacent. There wasn't enough love there for them to go out of their way for each other on instinct. It was a conscious effort day. Not like the love he saw from his mom and dad growing up. They always thought of each other. They would put themselves out to do the jobs around the house that neither of them wanted to do. They'd accommodated each other's needs without it being a big discussion. They had a natural rhythm between them. Just like he had with you when you worked together. For the first time in a while his future was bright again.

Helping Charlie around was hard at first but you found a rhythm. Similar to how you were in business and in bed. For the first time in your life, you felt like you had a true partner. Before you left, he let you push him down to the common room. It was no surprise to find that he was quite popular, a few people vied for his attention as you entered. You didn't blame any of them for being pulled to him. Charlie's heart and warmth shone out of him like a beacon.

The drive home wasn't far, it passed in the blink of an eye thanks to you being so distracted by your thoughts of Charlie. The lights were on and Daniel's car was in the driveway when you pulled in behind him. Daniel was cooking when you walked through the door. Following the scent you found him at the stove.

"That smells good." You told him as you hung you jacket in the hall closet.

"I'm glad you think so since it's your favourite." He moved to plate up as you walked further into the kitchen. 

Carrying your plates to the table, he pressed a kiss to your cheek as he passed. Setting yours down he motioned for you to sit. "How was work?"

"Fine. Busy as usual." Focusing on your food, you didn't catch the look on his face.

"That's funny because I called your office. They said you were taking a personal day….."

Next

Tags @kirsteng42 @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid2 @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @quica-quica-quica @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @graciexmarvel @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass

[darkness-falls-tarot]

Timothée Chalamet future partner. His current relationship.

Remember all readings are alleged and for entertainment purposes only; please take each reading with a grain of salt.

What is Timothée looking for in love: 3 of pentacles reversed, knight of wands reversed, 10 of swords reversed - he seems to be looking for some pretty intense and frankly toxic relationships. He likes to pursue relationships that are not great for him and probably won’t last long enough to evolve into a potential for marriage. He feels he’s made it out unscathed because when things get too intense or maybe to a point where his partner is asking what’s up he bails. He’s a bit cocky when it comes to this I believe.

What is going on with him and Kylie: the magician reversed - this relationship is not all it seems to be. There may be some trickery at play here or someone is lying about the whole ordeal to the media. They’re not ready to face the truth about this relationship and what it really is and in fact I believe they may actually be broken up or on the verge of it. They just are playing it up for the media.

Future spouse:

General personality: page of swords reversed, 2 of cups reversed, wheel of fortune reversed, 2 of wands - this person is not the greatest when it comes to communication in things but they are a bit cocky and arrogant in life. What they are great at is a bragging point for them and they make sure people know it. They can’t express things clearly on how they feel about love or may in fact not really like the idea of love all together. They also are known to be a bit chaotic in their actions and many call them unhinged; but I feel like deep down they want to change and find themselves in a better way of life.

Oracle card: steady progress - with this k do believe they are working to shed that old image of themselves and make improvements in their life. They may be working in therapy or trying to maintain a better frame of mind about things and ask why they act the way they do.

Career: 7 of swords reversed - they may be someone who isn’t all what they seem to be. If they are in the media they may have an image they play up with for the cameras and that is not who they are outside of the press but soon all will see the true them. Overall they may be someone who is known to expose secrets and in fact I’m getting a sense this person could work for a gossip site or tabloids. 🤔

What do they think of Timothée: the empress reversed - they may see him as self centered and egotistical. The image portrayed not at all what they see and feel is the real thing. They don’t find him as attractive or anyone worthy of dating.

What does Timothée think of this person: 5 of swords - he thinks they’re a bully or someone that targets others for their own selfish gain. He in fact doesn’t like them for the things they have done in the past and those they have hurt who he knows.

What will bring them together: strength, 5 of wands, the hierophant - there is going to be something that will cause a conflict between them and through their determination to beat the other they will find a peace and resolution together. I believe this may be an article that is not favorable to him and he doesn’t want anymore bad press regarding the situation so he takes this to the source and over either months or weeks of the battle the will decide to make peace and in that sense I believe some spark will occur.

What do these two have in common: 7 of pentacles reversed - I believe the two will bond over things in life not being as they planned. Maybe failed relationships or perhaps failed dreams and in that moment each will garner a new respect for the other that they never had before.

What will the relationship be like: the devil reversed - these two will be a power hungry couple and dependent on each other in a way. I’m sensing that if this person works for a news outlet or gossip site they will help boost his career and in doing so they will achieve better work and recognition as well. He will then talk about how amazing this person is and how proud he is of them.

Oracle card: picture - there will be new memories and ideas made between these two. They will have the world on their toes and being so memorized by the new it couple of Hollywood.

When will these two get together: next couple of years.

What does this person look like: brown eyes, brown hair and tan skin.

Zodiac: sun sign is Leo, moon is cancer, rising is Libra.

*The soulmate reading will be done separately in a couple more days.*

[iwritesickfic]

The first time Seamus has to take care of Theo in their relationship?

anon, how did you know i already had this unfinished fic in my drafts?!? lol, in all seriousness, this is actually a really formative point in their relationship. enjoy!

Theo is past the point of trying to actually function. To do things he knows he should - like take something for the fever he’s sure he has, or make himself something to eat or change his sweaty sheets or even make it back to bed. He’s too miserable. His head hurts too much. So he’s just lying on his uncomfortable couch, freezing and coughing and dizzy, focusing what remains of his energy on just trying to bear it all.

Time seems to have sort of slipped away. He’s just floating in and out, the edges of sleeping and waking blurred until he’s not sure which is which. That’s why when he hears the knock on the door, he’s fairly sure it’s just another strange remnant of a dream. Until he hears it again. And again.

Before he can work through all the options in his head, he finds himself getting up. Stumbling to the door. He shouldn’t open it. But he does. And it’s someone he absolutely would never have guessed. Seamus.

Seamus, the guy he has sex with a few times a week. Gorgeous, perfect Seamus who’s so fucking smart and funny and normal. He thinks he hears him say something, but between the haze in his head and the shock he can’t make it out. 

“What?” He asks, and is a little surprised at how awful his voice sounds. A few days of coughing and near total congestion will do that, but he’s still somewhat embarrassed. He must look pretty awful too, come to think of it. Self consciously, he runs a hand through his hair, which feels disgustingly damp.

“I said, hey, are you ok?” Seamus repeats, which pretty much confirms Theo’s suspicions that he looks like hell.

“Yeah,” he lies. “What’re you doing here?” If this is some kind of impromptu dick appointment Theo will definitely have to decline, which makes his heart sink a little bit. Whenever he’s with Seamus he feels so, so good. Maybe Zeke told him to come find him - Zeke’s his manager, and Seamus’s best friend. 

“Zeke mentioned you had the flu,” he starts, and Theo nods. That makes sense. “I wanted to come over to make sure you were ok,” he finishes, and Theo’s very confused. That, much like Seamus’s sudden appearance at his door, was the last thing Theo expected. He knows it’s the fever messing with his head but he feels a lump start to form in his throat. He’s not even quite sure why. Maybe it’s just the relief of having someone here to make this a little more bearable. Or maybe it’s the idea that Seamus - or anyone, frankly - actually cares about him. Or maybe it really is just the fever making a total mess of his emotions. Whatever it is though, he finds himself wrapping his arms around Seamus as tight as he can.

Seamus’s arms wrap around him in return, no hesitation. Then Theo lets out a little sob, and once it starts he can’t make it stop. Part of him is hit with the self awareness that this isn’t a very good look, but he’s just too miserable to care. Seamus is so warm and solid and steady and real. After that floating, dizzy feeling, he finally feels tethered to earth. 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Seamus’s voice says, and Theo tries to take deep breaths, but he just ends up coughing into Seamus’s sweatshirt. His cough sounds ridiculous, but the more he tries to stop the worse it gets. When they finally pull apart, Seamus looks incredibly concerned, which makes Theo feel a little bad. His nose is running like crazy from all the crying, and he can’t seem to catch his breath properly. He sniffles uselessly and feels a hand on his forehead, on his cheek. 

“Teddy, you are so sick,” he says, with such tenderness it makes Theo want to cry all over again. The use of the nickname tugs at him too. Teddy.

“I’m ok,” he says, even though he’s not really sure why he’s bothering to lie. In all honesty he’s getting sort of lightheaded just from standing up for this long. 

“C’mon, you look like you’re gonna fall over.” Seamus steps into the apartment, door closing behind him, and carefully guides him back over to the couch, where Theo immediately realizes he’s still freezing. He fumbles with the blanket for an embarrassingly long amount of time before Seamus carefully wraps it around his shoulders. One of his hands rests between Theo’s shoulder blades. He’s talking, but Theo can’t really make out all the words, his head still swimming.

“Please don’t leave,” The words slip out before he has a chance to think them over. Seamus’s hand strokes his hair, fingertips tucking strands behind his ear. 

“I’m not gonna leave.” Again, his voice is so tender it makes Theo’s heart jump. His hand rests on his forehead again, and Theo can’t help but lean into the touch. “Jesus, you’re really burning up,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”

He walks down the hall and turns into the bedroom, and Theo hears him rummaging through the en suite. He’s back in what seems like an instant, and hands him two small pills, which he takes without complaint. He looks at Seamus. He’s so handsome. Has he always been this handsome? He’s never seen this side of him before. Usually things are so light. They rib each other, they whisper filthy things, they joke about work and the sounds they make when they’re having sex. There have been moments of true tenderness before - a few kisses that felt like something more, when he’d slept at Seamus’s tiny walk-up apartment and worn his t-shirt while they had coffee - but nothing like this. Never anything like this.

His thoughts are cut off when he breaks into another fit of coughing. His ribs are in agony, and his nose is running again. He sniffles, but it doesn’t do much. Seamus hands him a tissue, and he blows his nose. Again, it doesn’t do much of anything, but at least it gets the immediate problem under control.

“Sorry. Fucking gross,” he mumbles, and Seamus smiles. What an amazing smile.

“You’re not gross.” His hand is back in Theo’s hair. Now that he’s shifted positions, the blanket fallen off his shoulders, he’s shivering again. He wants to lean into Seamus. Into his warmth and steadiness, but he holds himself back. He’s been needy enough, he has to retain some composure. It takes just about all of his strength. “You’re cold?”

“Little bit,” he says, even as his teeth are chattering. He clenches his jaw. Then, Seamus is pulling off his sweatshirt. Handing it to him. He doesn’t hesitate to pull it on, reveling in the residual warmth. It feels huge on him.

“Better?” Theo nods, and almost melts when he feels a kiss on his temple. His hair keeps falling into his face, and Seamus keeps dutifully tucking it back behind his ears. Then, he starts to comb it with his fingers, gathering it up like he’s making a ponytail. “Do you mind?”

“No,” he manages to get out, and tries to focus on the feeling of Seamus’s gentle fingers tracing over his temples. The nape of his neck. Fingers that so expertly play the guitar, the piano - now their careful precision is being used on him. He’s almost disappointed when he finally ties back his hair.

“There you go.” His hand lingers on Theo’s upper back. They’re quiet for a moment, apart from Theo’s sniffling.

“You can leave, if you want to. I’ll be ok.” The reality of all this is finally hitting him. Seamus, who was supposed to be just a hookup, has now seen him so incredibly, stupidly vulnerable. Best to end it before any more damage is done.

“If you want me to.” What a frustrating answer.

“I don’t...want you to go, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay.” Seamus shifts his body, and for a moment Theo thinks he might actually be getting up to leave. The idea makes him more uncomfortable than he thought it would. But, he stays.

“Then it’s settled.” His hand leaves Theo’s back. “Why don’t you pick out a movie or something, and we can eat some soup. Sounds good?” It sounds amazing, but there’s still this nagging fear in his chest that things are going too far. That he’s showing too much of himself. That said, it takes so much effort to think that way. To say he’s not cold and he feels fine.

He nods, and Seamus gives him a little smile.

“Awesome. First, here,” he holds up a thermometer he must have found in the bathroom and Theo obediently opens his mouth and lets him slide it under his tongue. It feels like ice. “Stay here, I’ll be right back,” he says, and Theo closes his eyes, trying to breathe through his mouth while not dropping the thermometer. There are too many sounds, and he can’t distinguish them, so he just lets them fade into white noise until Seamus is plucking the thermometer from his mouth. 

“Fuck,” Seamus says, almost under his breath, and Theo opens his eyes.

“Mm?” He hums, and Seamus puts the thermometer down. He’s sitting on the coffee table, so they’re eye to eye.

“It’s over 103. How long have you been sick?” He asks, that same concerned look on his face that he had at the door. His hand is cupping Theo’s neck. 

“I dunno,” he says, and this time he’s being honest. His sense of time is totally warped.

“Like, you woke up this morning or-” He shakes his head weakly.

“Probably…more than four days,” he says, and clears his throat. 

“Ok. Ok,” Seamus says, eyebrows furrowed. “Has anyone been by, or…?” Theo shakes his head. “So you’ve just been here sick like this? For four days?”

“Probably four,” he mumbles back, and Seamus nods. “I get sick a lot, so… It’s whatever. It’s fine.”

“Right.” He sighs and his thumb runs back and forth over the tender space behind Theo’s jaw and underneath his ear. “You can always call me,” he says gently and Theo shakes his head. “Why not?”

“I…” he trails off and closes his eyes, fixated almost totally on the feeling of Seamus’s warm palm. I wouldn’t ever choose to let you see me like this, he wants to say. Instead, he just says, “Well we’re not gonna be…doing anything, so.”

“I care about more than that.” Of course he does. Theo’s head is still spinning, and he leans forward so his forehead rests on Seamus’s shoulder. He’s too tired to care about the implications of this - he just wants, he needs, Seamus right now. He coughs his horrendous cough again and Seamus rubs his back. “I brought some tea in a thermos, do you want some?”

Theo reluctantly leans back into the couch cushions and nods. Seamus offers him a little smile and pulls the thermos - a well used stainless steel canister - out of his tote bag. He hands it to Theo and stands. 

“I’m gonna heat up the soup I brought, ok?” Theo nods numbly, still in disbelief that this is happening. But Seamus just smiles, and kisses his hot forehead with his cool, cool lips. He knows things are never going back to the way they were before. And he only feels relief.

[silkythewriter]

hi hiii! so... um, is it okay if i request a matchup for mha and/or hxh? i think the way you write matchup is really cute, sooo i'd like to try (if it's okay of course!)

ah right, about me, i use she/her pronouns. i'm in my early twenties!! (≧◡≦) i'm a literature student. i'm quiet, and kinda awkward especially if we just met :( but but! once we're close, i can be veerryyy loud and clingy. that said, i'm an emotional person. i'm the type of person who watches a show and think about it for the next few days... but well, i think i'm quite.. rational? it is not often i let my emotions control myself (mainly because i'm supposed to be the "calm and collected one", but anywayy-). i don't have many friends (i think it's because i take too long to respond when people talk to me, or because i often don't get the context they're talking about), but i love helping people!

i love daydreaming. i love writing too heheh but i rarely do it these days. i love cats, they're cute. i don't like loud and rude people, they're scary.

i think that's all? if this is too long i'm so sorry :(

thank youuu. you're cute and i love ur writing! ♡♡

Match up for MHA and HXH<3

Summary!: Match up for MHA and HXH!!

Small warning!: I love doing match ups EEEEEE their so fun!!😭anyway I apologize for bad grammar or spelling mistakes! Also I don’t know your sexuality so sorry if this isn’t to your liking!

Small note!: AHH THIS IS MY FIRST MHA AND HXH REQUEST IM PRETTY SURE SO YAY \(^ヮ^)/ I will be working on HC a bit less it won’t make much of a difference I just wanna post HC for like a week before going back maybe? I’ll still be working on the ones I have now though!

Fandom!: HXH and MHA!

Daily song suggestion!:

For HXH you got: leorio!

You guys probably met in college while walking to have break off campus, and you guys ended up going to the same small cafe

At first you thought he was following you so you did kind of freak out- I mean have you seen this man? He looks way more older then he actually is so it’s fair to be scared at first

He tried walking ahead of you cause he knew he was probably scaring you, but he couldn’t catch up cause you were basically jogging/speed walking so he tried doing the same but it only made the scene look so much worse 😭 it now looked like he was chasing you which made you panic worse then before. You quickly tried throwing anything at him, including the notes you took and whatever work the professor gave you. Cause right now that wasn’t your concern

Once he realized what you were doing he tried yelling out but a paper basically slapped his face making him tumble back wards

“Hey!- Wait I’m not following you! Jeez!” He yelled out trying to make you turn around so you could collect your stuff, which you did. He ended up apologizing and helping you pick up some of papers and pens you dropped. He offered to take you to the cafe he was heading at which surprise surprise was the same one you were going to!

Once you guys got there and ordered it was pretty awkward till he started making jokes about the situation which got you giggling and his simp self had to get your number so here we are

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

You guys were in an awkward stage for a bit sense you guys were busy and didn’t have much time to talk. But once spring break rolled around (let’s say you guys have one or two weeks if the college gods give mercy) its when your relationship steady a bit! He knows you were a bit awkward cause of not knowing him of course but he didn’t mind waiting out this period and he tried helping a lot for you to loosen up and know him better But trust me once you guys got out of the awkward stage you’ll be happy you stayed!

He loves Your clinginess cause he himself is quite clingy too, so it’s just a win win on both ends! He’s very loud aswell so depending on how much your comfortable with him except him to talk like he’s shouting

One time he took you to his house to watch a movie and he picked A Dog's Purpose(this movie made me cry so hard) he knew it was sad of course but he didn’t expect for you to be a bit down for the next few days/thinking about it, he’s the kind of guy who watched a movie and maybe gets sad for a few minutes before moving on so you guys has different reactions, he isn’t that rational unlike you so sometimes your the one having to calm him down 😭

Oh! If you ask for it he gets you cat as a gift especially if you talk about wanting one, I will say he’s probably a bit more of a dog person but he’s chill with cats cause you are, he thinks the ginger or black cats are the prettiest

He loves sneaking up on you while your writing and watch from behind your shoulder, it’s a bit creepy but he finds you writing to be so cool! He loves how your words flow so nicely together and much more! If you let him proof read or just give his opinion he’s always giving positive ones, not even to be nice for the hell of it, he genuinely just loves your writing!

Overall he absolutely loves your personality no matter if you quite one day but clingy and laughing the next! He loves you no matter what mood your in! <3

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

For MHA you got: Aizawa!

You guys met at a local cat cafe that you frequented!, he just got out of patrol and popped in sense the owner was basically his friend by how much he came In

He saw you when you were playing with a tabby cat(I hope that’s how you spell it (￣▽￣)) and his heart melted at the sight of you playing with it as it jumped onto you lap and making itself comfortable

When he grabbed his coffee he was quick to take a spot near you as the same cat you were playing with came over to him and rubbed along his leg, you stared at the cat silently morning the lost of the adorable cat, he noticed pretty quick and picked up the cute feline as well as his coffee while walking over and taking a seat

He placed down his coffee while putt the cat softly on the ground letting it walk around the both of you before deciding to lay down under the table. You only shyly waved and said a small “hi” that was barely above a whisper. He could sense how shy and a bit timid you were so he started up the conversation by asking what your doing and other common questions. Once you guys got comfortable giggles and chuckles filled the small cafe as you guys connected over how busy life is and etc. it was only when the last person left did you two realize how late it was getting, you could only give a small smile before excusing yourself due to how late it was.

And ohhhhh the blush on this man’s face when you handed him that small peace of paper with a rushed scribble of your number with a small cat drawn on the side

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

As you’ve seen he doesn’t really mind you being shy at first. He’s not the best at caring a conversation or talking to people in general really, but he has had some practice especially with being a teacher and pro hero at the same time, he’s in introvert sure but when it comes to you he doesn’t know how to explain this feeling of knowing you for year like old friends that go way back. It’s an instant connection

He doesn’t pounce on his feelings to quickly due to being scared of rejection and also due to his schedule and how packed it is. But once you confess to him or he feels like it’s time he doesn’t regret it a bit

Loves that your learning about literature to be honest, I feel like he reads books and poetry in his spear time so he would love to take a look at it and read how nicely you words feel to read, might even ask to bower some to read if you have any other pieces!

He isn’t much of a loud person himself but doesn’t mind how loud or quiet you are to be honest! He enjoys the company you give him in any shape or form and loves letting you ramble about different topics and such and will give small in put or just nod along while listening intently

Activity avoids any emotional shows or movies to make sure your comfortable, he knows it doesn’t impact that much and you wonder about it for a couple days but still he’d rather let you choose if anything to make sure your happy with any movie nights you do! He knows your a rational person but even then he wants you to enjoy the night and not have your head stuck around a show or movie

He has 2 cats no questions ask, you know he treat them like his baby’s, ones also named after a mixs of yours and his name since you guys adopted it together!

He understands the frustration with loud people I mean, just look at mr blond guy, he’s a great example so he’ll makes sure to get you outta the way if he ever comes and will just take the hit for the team since he’s already use to it but still annoyed by it

Overall he adores you to death and back and would adore you no matter what! Quirk or no quirk you still look just as amazing in his eyes 💞

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

AHHH SO SORRY FOR HOW LONG THSI TOOK WITERS BLOCK HIT ME HARD STILL HOPE YOU ENJOYED

[averinthine]

i feel like i need to write out a full explanation of a particular problem that's been dominating pretty much every aspect of my life lately. i want to be able to refer people to it when i need them to understand my struggles - it's a bit much to explain from fresh every time. it might also be helpful as a point of comparison in the future if things change. my thoughts are under the cut for whoever would like to see them.

it's hard to say how long this has been going, but it definitely feels like a long-term trend, perhaps going back ten years or so in one form or another. i have an absolutely dreadful lack of self-awareness though, so it's something i hadn't really understood was happening beyond a general sense of Things Being Wrong until more recently. i think it's also been getting a lot worse lately.

basically, my whole life i've been extremely easily upset by many things, including things that it doesn't make any sense to be upset by. even uncomplicatedly positive things have always had a chance to bring me to tears, with my mind somehow contorting my emotions in a way that can make experiencing happiness an inexplicably saddening event. this goes back to before i even started school, and i don't really know where it came from.

with my physical health having been in steady decline for a while, along with other aspects of my mental health, and also just some random acts of circumstance, a lot of the things that used to be important and cherished parts of my life have fallen away, and i'm constantly yearning to bring them back. there's also a lot i've learned about myself lately, about things that have never been a part of my life before, but i now know i'd really like them to be.

the trouble is, these two issues combine in a vicious cycle, where i feel bad about not having certain things in my life, so i try to (re)engage with them, but then when i do, i get so overwhelmed with emotion that it's difficult to actually enjoy them. instead i end up just feeling terrible about how unaccustomed i am to having them in my life, and it hurts so much that i sometimes have to disengage. it makes me fearful to even try.

the only things that get spared from this are the things that i'm used to, that are so familiar that i don't really feel strongly about them in the first place. things that stuck with me as ways to occupy my mind during the times i was struggling the most, not out of them being profoundly comforting or important to me, but out them being just enough to distract me without making me Feel Too Much.

so i'm in this cycle where i spend a great deal of time just trying to avoid the agony of my overpowering emotions by hiding in my room doing things that aren't fulfilling to me. it sucks, i know it sucks, and i'd desperately like it to change, but it's just so incredibly difficult to make any such changes, because of how overwhelming it is.

as an example, i know i'd be a lot happier if i got back into making music, but it's a struggle, because doing so reminds me of the pain of having let that go in the first place. heck, i sometimes have a hard time just Listening to music if it was made by someone i strongly relate to as a person (particularly transfem musicians), because that's the sort of thing i should've been doing myself this whole time, and instead i've just got this big fucking void of a life.

it works basically the same for all the other hobbies and interests that i would like to have, or used to have. it applies to socialising in general, and particular forms thereof. it's basically the same reason as why there are a lot of people i used to talk to regularly, who i'd love to be that close with again, but i just can't bring myself to do anything to make that happen. there's also various social anxietes involved, of course, but i really don't think they would be too much of an impediment on their own.

so where do i go from here? obviously i need to Get Over It somehow. i'm profoundly unhappy with my life, and will be until i figure a way out. many parts of my life have gotten tangibly better recently, in terms of other problems having been resolved. but until i overcome this particular vicious cycle, the various sufferings that have been removed haven't had much of anything good to take their place. most of my remaining problems at this point stem from my own mind. the fact that i'm physically disabled scarcely matters when i wouldn't be doing anything with the abilities i lack anyway. i need to figure out how to fix this, and i worry how much of my life could slip away going unlived before i do.

[nurse-buckley]

I posted 2,570 times in 2022

That's 55 more posts than 2021!

232 posts created (9%)

2,338 posts reblogged (91%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@firemedicdiaz

@princessfbi

@kitkatpancakestack

@ellelans

@fireladybuckley

I tagged 1,025 of my posts in 2022

#0 - 253 posts

#9-1-1 - 235 posts

#eddie diaz - 158 posts

#i got queue - 139 posts

#evan buckley - 138 posts

#queue - 138 posts

#9-1-1 spoilers - 135 posts

#911 spoilers - 131 posts

#buddie - 103 posts

#eurovision - 69 posts

Longest Tag: 136 characters

#a unknown breed some terrier mix of chaos adopted and rescued from a killing station in hungary originally called fifi but he's milo now

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Sicktember - Day Four

Fandom: 9-1-1  Pairing: Buddie x Reader (platonic)   Word Count: 1,293 words Prompt: @sicktember Alt. Prompt 5 “Can You Be Brave For Me?” Tagslist: @firemedicdiaz @fireladybuckley @winterreader-nowwriter @iamasimpingh0e @dayrin085 @hauntedmilkshakeghost @floralbuckleys @writingmysanity  If you want to be added or removed from my tagslist, please let me know!  Authors Note: CEO of getting these fics out 25 minutes before midnight! Once again, unbeta’d so I apologise for any mistakes! Requested by the amazing @firemedicdiaz I hope this helps cheer you up lovely <3

You let out a low groan as you feel someone shaking your shoulders in an attempt to rouse you, “Hey. Y/N? Can you hear me? Open your eyes for me sweetheart.” You can vaguely hear Eddie’s voice cutting through the haze, but your eyes are just too heavy. 

Eddie moves his fingers to the side of your neck, feeling for your pulse .He lets out a sigh of relief to feel the gentle thrumming beneath his finger tips, even if it is a little fast for his liking. He gently shakes your shoulders once more, releasing another sigh of relief as your eyes begin to flutter open. 

“Ed…?” you slurred, as consciousness returns to you. “What? Why am I on the floor?” Your mind still fuzzy, your head pounding, probably from the impact of your head hitting the floor considering the last thing you remember was helping Eddie in the kitchen before the world began to spin. 

Eddie can sense your rising anxiety as you come to your senses a little more and attempt to sit up, easing you back down with a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Easy cariña, you fainted. Just lay back for me, you’re alright. We’ve got you,” he reassures. 

‘We? Right…you were at Buck’s. You and Eddie had gone there after work to hang out. 

You startle as you hear a noise from your side, watching as Buck comes into view and sets the first aid kit you knew he kept in his closet beside you. The younger man kneels beside you, opposite Eddie, unzipping the kit to pull out a piece of gauze before passing the kit over to Eddie. 

Buck moves into your line of sight, taking your focus away from Eddie as he begins to pull out various pieces of equipment, sensing your anxiety growing more. “I’m just going to hold this to the side of your head, alright? You bumped your head pretty hard when you hit the floor.” He apologies as the contact causes you to flinch away, but he holds your head steady with his other hand on the other side of your face. 

You see Eddie placing a stethoscope around his neck, and feel your breathing start to come a little quicker, suddenly feeling self-conscious of all the attention on you. 

“You know, I’m actually feeling a lot better. It’s okay. I’m just really tired or it’s probably just low blood sugar. I’m fine…really. I don’t need the hospital or anything, really,” you stutter, trying to sit up once more. 

“Hey,” Eddie speaks up from your other side, taking your hand in his and squeezing it reassuringly, “No one said anything about the hospital, I can’t rule it out just yet, but I just need to check you over, that’s non-negotiable. Can you be brave for me? Just for a little while.” 

You nod defeatedly, allowing Buck to ease you back down this time. A stray tear rolls down your cheek at the thought of there being something wrong with you, but you know you’re in safe hands with the pair of them at your side. 

“That’s it. Just lay back, we’ve got you. You’re safe,” Buck reassures, wiping away the stray tear with the pad of his thumb. 

“Did you have any symptoms before you passed out? Any dizziness, blurred vision, palpitations?” 

You give a worried look to Buck, but an encouraging nod from him has you nodding your head, “i-is that bad?” 

“Try not to worry, it could be nothing,” Buck tries to reassure you. 

“B-but it could be something. I’ve never passed out before,” your panic begins to rise once more, the thought of something being wrong with you overwhelming you. 

“I need you to take a deep breath for me sweetheart,” Eddie says this time, “We need you calm okay, just let me worry about everything else.” 

You mimic Eddie as he takes a slow, deep breath, feeling a little calmer. “Good, now, keep taking deep breaths with Buck here, and let me check you over. I’ll explain everything before I do it and if it gets too much we’ll take a break.” 

Buck gently moves back into your line of vision, taking slow deep breaths for you to follow. 

“I’m just going to check your pulse,” Eddie announces, gently placing his fingers around your wrist and glancing at his watch. You focus on your breath, following Buck and trying not to focus on the feeling of your pulse tapping away against Eddie’s touch. 

He sets your arm down by your side, before picking up the blood pressure cuff from the kit next. “Is it alright if I just slip this on here?” You nod your consent, trying not to focus on the feeling of the cool fabric as Eddie wraps it tightly around your upper arm. You watch as he puts on the stethoscope and places it at the crook of your elbow, “Just a little squeeze here.” He inflates the cuff, just enough to be uncomfortable before releasing it, quickly and efficiently taking the reading. 

“Your vitals are a little concerning,” Eddie quickly continues, before you work yourself up again, “I’m just going to check one more thing, is it alright if I check your blood sugar?” 

The thought of the needle pricking your finger is enough to make bile rise at the back of your throat, but you knew Eddie wouldn’t be asking if he wasn’t certain. 

As if he were able to read your mind, Eddie speaks up once more, “I’ll be as gentle as I can and it’ll be over before you know it.” 

You nod once more, offering your middle finger to Eddie and holding out your free hand to Buck to hold as Eddie gets the necessary equipment together. “Do you want me to count down?” Eddie asks as he presses the tip of the lancet against your chosen finger. 

“Count down please,” you ask as you look away and focus on Buck, squeezing his hand tighter. 

“One…two…three.” 

Before you have a chance to even think, you feel the needle quickly pinch your skin before Eddie squeezes your finger and takes the reading. Buck is quick, grabbing another piece of gauze from the packet he’d opened earlier and wraps it around the tip of your finger. 

See the full post

99 notes - Posted September 4, 2022

#4

Sicktember Day 9 - Home Remedy

Fandom: 9-1-1  Pairing: Buck x Reader Word Count: 789 words  Prompt: @sicktember Day 9 - Home Remedy  Tagslist: @firemedicdiaz @fireladybuckley @winterreader-nowwriter @iamasimpingh0e @dayrin085 @hauntedmilkshakeghost @floralbuckleys @writingmysanity  If you want to be added or removed from my tagslist, please let me know!  Authors Note: Is this me early posting (for me at least) for once? I have now officially finished my presentation so hopefully more regular posting - I am also going to be clearing my ask box and getting through my prompts missed during the big depression! Thank you @firemedicdiaz for having a quick glance at this, I hope you feel better soon love <3

You hate the feeling of migraines, but at the same time, when one hits, you can't remember a time before them. The pain is agonising, overtaking every one of your senses. Everything is too bright. Noises too loud. Movements causing the already dizzying nausea to worsen tenfold. 

“Babe?” Buck calls out softly as he enters his apartment, squinting in the dim light to spot any sign of you. He knew you were no stranger to migraines and judging by the darkness and eerie silence that fell upon the loft, he guessed that is what was happening. 

With no sign of you, he makes his way quietly up the stairs towards the bedroom, seeing you bundled under the duvet and your head buried into the pillows. 

You feel the bed dip as Buck perches on the bed next to you, even that gentle movement was nauseating. He places a gentle hand on top of where he guesses your hip is under the covers, before softly uttering the word, “migraine?” 

“Yeah,” you reply, just loud enough for him to hear you from beneath the cocoon you’d wrapped yourself in, whining as even the slightest movement causes the pain radiating from deep within your head to throb even more. 

“Have you taken anything for it?” Buck asks again, being mindful to keep his voice low. 

You chance coming out of the safety of blankets, thankful that Buck has kept the light off, “no…I feel too nauseous. Plus, nothing touches it, just gotta ride it out…” you whisper your reply. 

“I think I might have something that could help,” you feel him shift from the bed and move into the bathroom. 

You can see he’s carrying something, but you’re not sure of what in the dim light of the loft. He comes to kneel by your bedside, “do you trust me?” 

There was no doubt in your mind anything Buck did would make the pain any worse, so with nothing to lose you slowly nod your head. 

“Alright, I need you to shift around for me.” He guides you with a hand at the small of your back, helping to ease you down onto a pillow he’d laid out in front of him, so he has better access to your head. 

“I did a little research after your last migraine and read that lavender oil and a head massage can work wonders,” he explains as he pops the cap from the small amber bottle and warms a few drops between his palms. 

You wrinkle your nose, preparing for the overwhelming floral smell you’d encountered with some essential oils before, but are pleased to find the scent isn’t strong at all. 

“Alright, just relax and if it gets too much, just let me know.” 

You take a deep breath and close your eyes, feeling safe in Buck’s capable hands. Buck had given you massages before, but nothing prepared you for the pure bliss you felt as his touch gave you some relief, easing away the tension that had built up around your head, neck and shoulders. 

He places his middle and index fingers on your temples and begins to massage the area in a circular motion with just enough pressure to counter the pressure you were feeling from the migraine, causing you to let out a low groan. The feeling of relief only grows as he moves down to your chin, gently stroking his fingers up from your jaw towards your temples again. 

You hiss slightly as he moves his hands again, adding slight pressure with his thumbs along your eyebrows, right above where the pain is radiating from. 

“I’m sorry,” Buck apologises, moving his hands away. 

You make a move to grab his hands, placing them back over your head, “Nooo,” you whine, “don’t stop…feels good.” 

He continues on, moving towards you neck and back, turning your head gently to the side cupping your neck with his hands and using his thumb to work out the knots deep within the tissue. You feel him working into the area at the base of your skull, rubbing small circular motions, before moving back to the rest of your head, slow circular motions, gently scratching your scalp. 

Between Buck’s skilled hands and the relaxing scent of lavender you begin to relax more and more, the tension leaving your body along with the majority of the migraine pain. He finishes the massage, rubbing his hands together, warming a little more oil, before he places both his hands covering your forehead and eyes. 

The gentle pressure he’s applying feels wonderful, “Buck…”  

“Yeah?” he whispers his reply. 

“I am going to need you to do this again and again when I’m feeling better…because this was amazing. Thank you.” 

“Anytime.”

106 notes - Posted September 9, 2022

#3

Eurovision 2022 opening.

173 notes - Posted May 14, 2022

#2

Sicktember Day Nine - Emergency Room/ Ambulance

Fandom: 9-1-1  Pairing: Buck x Reader  Word Count: 1,095 words  Prompt: @sicktember Day 9 - Emergency Room/ Ambulance, written for the amazing @floralbuckleys  Tagslist: @firemedicdiaz @fireladybuckley @winterreader-nowwriter @iamasimpingh0e @dayrin085 @hauntedmilkshakeghost @floralbuckleys @writingmysanity  If you want to be added or removed from my tagslist, please let me know!  

Buck had warned you on more than one occasion to be careful carrying stuff down the steep stairs of his loft, even more so now you had both welcomed the latest edition to your family. The shelter a block from your shared apartment had had a special event for the cats and kittens in their care with their kennels recently overwhelmed. With a lot of pleading from you and the endless cute cat photos you'd sent to Buck, he had eventually caved and you’d adopted Sammie, a beautiful little white and ginger cat who had definitely made the place her home. 

“Come on girl,” you gently nudged her with your foot to try and get her to walk ahead of you, your hands full with a basket of laundry that had built up. You giggled as she didn't listen, flopping over dramatically in front of you before moving to weave in and out between your legs as you continued to ignore her. 

You’d had a few near misses, Sammie wanting to be right by your side, rubbing her face against your legs as you attempted to move past her. “Sammie, come on sweetheart, you’re going to trip…” you didn’t have time to finish your sentence as you came tumbling down the stairs, Sammie running off to hide with her tail fluffed as the flying laundry startled her. 

You tumbled down the stairs, each one seeming to find a new spot to hit, sending jolts of pain through your body until you flew forward, your head landing on the floor with a sickening thud. 

With the wind knocked out of you it took a little while for the initial shock to wear off. You took a shaky breath before you began to move each of your legs, testing for injury, moving higher and higher as you checked your body over. When it came to checking your wrist, you let out a yelp as a jolt of pain shot up your arm.  The jerk sent another pain through your head and you could already feel the large lump forming near your temple where you’d made impact with the ground. You lifted your hand to inspect the side of your head, gasping when it came away with a smear of blood from a cut on your forehead. 

With the danger over, you glanced around as you heard a meow, the sound followed by Sammie who had come out from her hiding spot to investigate what had happened. She made her way over coming to nuzzle against your side; if you knew better you would think she was apologising for causing the accident. 

“And this is why we’re careful on the stairs,” you groaned as you cautiously sat up. Sammie seemed to take this as an invitation and she climbed onto your lap, her paws coming to rest on your chest as she nuzzled against your face. “Alright, get off me. I guess I’ve got to go and get checked out at the hospital.  What’s your dad going to say about this? You think we can get away without calling him from the ER?” 

Being gentle, you shoved her off before you slowly got to your feet, glad you were the only injured party between you. Once you were sure you were okay to stand, you made your way to the bathroom, grabbed some gauze for your head, and left your apartment for the short walk to the hospital. 

By the time you arrived in the ER and were triaged, the pain in your head and wrist had doubled and you were beginning to think maybe it would be a good time to call Buck. 

“Y/N?” 

Your thoughts were interrupted as you heard your name in an all too familiar voice. You turned just in time to see Buck and Eddie wheeling a patient into the ER, cursing whatever power had led them to bringing someone in at that exact moment. 

“Heeeeeey babe. It’s not as bad as it looks,” you replied. 

Buck wasted no time, checking that Eddie was okay being left with the patient before he made his way over to where you were sitting. 

“Let me be the judge of that,” he said as his hands came to hover over you, afraid to hurt you as he checked over your injuries. He put a gentle hand over the one holding the bloodied gauze to your head, pulling it away with a hiss as he got a glimpse at the wound. 

“Y/N what the hell happened? Why didn’t you call me?” 

“I swear, I was going to as soon as the nurse saw me. I wasn’t looking where I was going with the laundry and Sammie got under my feet and I ended up falling down the last few steps.” 

Buck sighed as he glanced over the various bruises that had begun to form over your body and the swelling in your wrist, “that looks like a lot more than a few,” he admonished.   “I’m going to go catch up with Bobby and let him know I’m staying with you, you’ll need someone to take you home with that head injury…,” Buck paused, “wait…how did you get here anyway? Did you drive with a head injury?  Y/n, do you even know how dangerous…” 

“Buck,” you interrupted him. “I’m not that stupid, I didn’t drive here…I walked.” You realised as soon as you said it and by the look on Buck’s face that it probably wasn’t the wisest decision you had made either, but you decided to chalk that up to the head injury.  

“Why didn’t you call 911, or me? You could have had a spinal injury, you could have a serious head injury and be unconscious on the side of the road right now,” he continued rambling off each and every worst case scenario he could think of. 

“I know and I’m sorry, I was embarrassed, you’ve told me time and time again to watch out for Sammie and I didn’t listen.” 

Buck silenced you with a chaste kiss to your forehead, “it doesn’t matter now, as long as you’re both okay. I’m going to take the rest of the shift off, take you home, and we’re going to get your favourite takeout and chill on the couch tonight.” 

You stopped him as he began to turn and walk away to find his captain. 

“What’s wrong baby?” 

“Can we stop by the store and get Sammie a treat? She’s had a trauma today too!” 

“Anything for you two,” he chuckled, shaking his head. 

262 notes - Posted September 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

To Keep Me From Freezing

Fandom: 9-1-1 Word Count: 3,383 Pairing: Buck x Reader Warnings: Being locked in a walk in (honestly my biggest fear when I worked in a grocery store!) Minor medical exams/ mentions.  Tagslist: @firemedicdiaz , @fireladybuckley @winterreader-nowwriter @iamasimpingh0e @dayrin085 @floralbuckleys If you want to be added or taken off my tagslist please let me know!  Thank you @floralbuckleys and @firemedicdiaz for helping revamp and reading over this fic for me and @floralbuckleys for the amazing graphic. <3 

‘Have a good shift.’

You smile as your phone lights up with a notification from Buck, you pocket the device with a sigh knowing it was time to start getting yourself ready to leave for work. You’d been taking on more shifts in the store trying to keep yourself busy while Buck was away for his long shifts. The added bonus of overtime was also a very good incentive. 

Throwing on your store branded jacket and name tag, you grab your keys and make your way out of the door, walking the familiar route. 

The shift went by as usual, stocking the shelves in your assigned aisle, helping the off customer here and there looking for various products or advice. You enjoyed the quiet of the night shifts, unlike the majority of your colleagues, fewer customers meant you could work mostly uninterrupted. Having the shelves fully stocked, neat and tidy at the end also gave you satisfaction, Buck teased you for it endlessly as you’d found yourself doing the same at home, constantly reminding him to rotate the food in the cupboards in date order. 

You glanced at your watch, finding relief that you didn’t have long left of your shift. The display you’d been working on just needed a few finishing touches and then you could go home, shower and spend the day with your boyfriend. You spot your manager walking past, looking beyond stressed as she paces up and down the aisles looking for someone. 

You sigh when her eyes land on you and she begins to make her way over to you. “Y/N, I hate to ask…” she begins. 

“It’s fine, Elise. What’s up?” you reassure her, kicking yourself for the offer, hoping the task won’t take too long. You guessed you weren’t her first choice but you were happy to help if it meant a little more overtime.

You watch the relief wash over her face, happy you weren’t going to be another in what was probably a long line of colleagues who chose to blow her off. “Everyone’s gone home, and you know I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate but that shelf in the walk-in freezer is broken again, someone’s just left stock all over the floor. I’ve gotta go to an appointment so I can’t stay until open,” she says all at once. 

“Elise, it’s fine. I’ve got it. I’ll just finish up here and then I’ll see what I can do.” 

She flashes you a smile, giving you a clap on the shoulder before turning to leave. “You’re a lifesaver!” Elise tosses you the keys to the store, going over the instructions on how to lock up when you finish, assuring you’d be paid for the overtime. She continues her thank yous as she walks away, leaving you by yourself in the store. 

You pull out your phone, sending a quick text to Buck, ‘might be home a little later, gotta fix something in the walk-in and then lock up. Going to need a hot shower when I get in…maybe someone to join me too?’ You sent with a few emojis. 

Your phone lights up as the three dots appear, then disappear as Buck decides on how to respond. You let out a laugh as your phone buzzes with a new notification, Buck having replied with a few suggestive emojis. 

Pocketing your phone once more, you zip up your jacket as far as it can go and pull on the gloves before heading to the back of the store to the walk-in freezer. You should feel slightly ridiculous at the attire, considering the climate you live in, but they were needed in the biting 0 degrees of the freezer. 

The cool air hits you as soon as the doors open, causing you to suck in a deep breath. Your boss hadn’t been lying when she’d said the stock was everywhere. In fact, she probably hadn’t been entirely truthful with you. Realizing you would probably be in there longer than you thought, you decide to close the door behind you, not wanting to let in the warm air or hear the robotic voice reminding you ‘door open, please close the door,’ on an endless loop. 

Unsure of where to start, you begin by shifting the stock around to give you a bit more room to work. It probably wasn’t the wisest decision to go in with only your jacket, but you knew the sooner you got in, the sooner you would be out of there and you could be on your way home. You shake off the cold, focussing on the task at hand, hoping you will be done soon. 

Your fingers are numb and you’re barely able to grasp at the last few items by the time you are done, the gloves just about doing their jobs none they were damp from the melting ice from the frozen produce. With the shelf finally fixed, you make quick work of restacking the boxes of frozen vegetables and oven fries before turning to leave. 

You give another pull on the handle, surprised as the motion jerks you. You were stuck. Not quite believing it, you give the door handle another hard yank, trying to keep the panic from rising further, but once again the door doesn't budge.  

You try to swallow the anxiety that has risen in your chest as your biggest fear has come true. ‘The safety release, it’s there for a reason. Try that before you panic,’ you thought to yourself as you pulled on the emergency release next. Dread washes over you, the uncomfortable sensation of your stomach dropping with the realization that the door is still jammed tightly shut. 

With all the strength you could muster, you try one more time, hoping it is just a small build up of ice that is preventing your escape. Your strength, however, is of no use. The lever hardly budges. You slam your hands against the freezer food in frustration as you let out a choked sob as you finally admit to yourself that you’re stuck. Turning your back against the freezer door, you allow yourself to slide down, your emotions finally taking over as you let the tears you’ve been holding back escape. 

The tears only made you colder as the moisture hits the cold air. You try, in vain, to stop, hiccupping as you try to choke back the tears; but the fear and anxiety were too much. 

You pull out your phone from your pocket, glancing at the top right hand corner of the screen to see what you had expected; no signal. Elise had likely already left, so you knew there was no point in ringing the safety buzzer either. With no one to call and the store empty, you choked out another sob at the realization that the morning team wouldn’t be in for another hour. 

With the knowledge you wouldn't be able to get out, your mind turns to survival mode. You vaguely remember something from one of the survival shows Buck loved to watch; you needed to keep calm. Panic would only burn energy and your body needs that to keep warm and to survive. 

You glance around, noting the broken down cardboard boxes you’d cleared, sitting by the door to the freezer. You place a few on the floor, hoping it would be enough of a barrier to insulate you from the cold ground. You also spot the roll of saran wrap you know is kept in the freezer to wrap the full cages and begin to frantically unravel the rolls, folding it as you went to make a makeshift blanket. 

You sit down on the insulated floor, wrapping the improvised blanket over your head and around your shoulders. With the remaining cardboard, you cover the rest of your body, hoping it will stave off the chill from the cool freezer air. 

Despite the makeshift shelter, you can’t help the involuntary shivering causing your whole body to convulse as it tries to keep you warm. 

You can gradually feel yourself growing more tired, not sure if it's from the cold air or the effect of the long shift you’d completed, not that you cared either way. 

For once, you’re thankful for the thermal socks and heavy uncomfortable steel toe cap boots, at least your feet are warmer than your hands. You know it’s not looking good for you when you begin to lose the feeling in your fingers, despite having your arms wrapped around you and your hands tucked beneath your armpits. Rubbing your hands up and down your arms helps to warm you some, the action helps to keep your blood circulating, praying to any god who would listen that you’ll make it out of this alive. 

You clumsily fumble your phone from your pocket, with the hope that by some miracle you might have at least one bar of signal, but as suspected, nothing. Checking the time, you sigh, sliding the phone back into your pocket, fumbling it slightly as your fingers are no longer cooperating. 

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359 notes - Posted August 29, 2022

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[simiansmoke]

@koopzilla cont.

Well, the symbol - for however long it blinked into being...didn't quite resemble what it portrayed to someone looking down at it from behind - which DK is regulated to do by proxy of the magic's midriff centered home. "Dude...I don't know what that is, but I'm pretty sure it's not 'juice'. Well...unless it's a knocked over carton-?" He gives up on trying to lean forward farther for a better look to avoid topping over into a somersault. "I mean, I wouldn't mind some. This cell comes with room service, right? I take mine spiked." He adds, eyes rolling, though they're hard pressed to find the ceiling with Bowser hovering high above them.

The light bump of muzzle to jaw felt like an unconscious response to watching the gears churn in the Koopa's skull as if he were trying his best to solve a rather tricky cross-word puzzle and DK was simply reaching out to nudge him back to reality before he could short-circuit something up there. A resounding sense of calmness briefly ensues despite being locked behind bars in a sweltering section of dungeon that even escape wouldn't provide relief from due to the Darklands' cruel climate. And like a turtle itself sensing all was well, the light of the crystal emerged from its Kong shell and began to burn.

A steady exhale of comfort suddenly turns into a squawk as the shove of a claw both startles and scoots him back several feet from the bars after the action sends him staggering backwards in a clumsy attempt at not ending up on his rear end. "Wow - rude. We were having a moment-" He tsks, quick to adjust his tie as the Koopa fumbles with his keys. "Oh, you're letting me out already? Sweet." He pads over just a step before Bowser surprises him...not by leaving the room and the door open for him, but because the Koopa seemed to think forcing himself into the smallish cell was a good idea. "What're you-?"

The command is simple enough, but combined with the slow, predatory approach of the larger beast, DK feels a slight flutter of...he's not sure. Self-preservation, perhaps? But even if his instincts kicked in to 'run' despite the order, there was not really anywhere to run with a massive Koopa blocking the only escape route like a giant boulder in a cyclops' cave. If that was all...then why did the crystal's light continue to grow a bit brighter with each calculated step forward, and his own - backward. There's not far to go, though, so his hands are easily taken from him and cupped with claws.

Sure enough the crystalline light of the modified coconut began to gleam with a renewed sense of vigor that matched the sort beginning to pool into and stain the Kong's face. Was it warm in there...or was there an actual battery overheating within the core of the Kong? Either way, a bead of sweat is making its way down from temple to cheek, seeking fur to sop into. "...'scuse me-? A little WHAT now?" Incredulous irritation is a passenger to the wreckless driving of gut butterflies that seem to lift him him unnoticeably so that when he's eventually pinned to the wall, it feels like the ground has fallen away underneath him.

With his blood roaring, it's a wonder he even hears the other's demand, though it doesn't help him hear it as clearly as someone without all the nerves in their skin working overtime to try and raise fur that was already damp from the heat of the place. He wanted a...?

"...I don't know why I put up with you-" Expression irate, DK pauses to shift uncertainly against the wall as if trying to catch a glimpse of his stomach and see if there was anything down there brewing. A moment passes with no luck. "...you asked wrong! It's 'posed to be a wish, not a demand. Here-" And with that, he amends the statement to "...I, uh...wish this koopafucker had a SUB...with meatblalls?"

It's very shortly after the request does DK look up to meet the the Koopa king's impatient expression...only to find that a rogue meatball falling from the ceiling has decided that his snout is a good landing pad to the various sizes of lightly sauced meatballs to fall out of the air and pelt him with. "-aAAAUGJHHHH?!" Well..there were the meatballs; seemed they found their sub too.

[edwad]

arguably, this same problem applies to the "field" marx was navigating as well. this is sorta related to my complaint from the other day about him writing a manuscript titled 'theories of surplus value' when the only theory of surplus value in it was his (because none of those people had theories of "surplus value", they had theories of interest, profit, rent, taxation, etc). so in a sense, it's not even really possible to fall back on superior, "classical" notions of categories because there was never a time when such steady categories existed. the only thing that binds them together as "classical" is the fact that marx refers to them this way. it is already a reconstructed image of a discipline in a way which mutilates the source material for the sake of constituting a theoretical object which allows for immanent critique.

what this means for marx is that the unfinished/unfinishable nature of capital is extremely damaging to the project, not just in the now-standard accounts of analyzing the manuscripts which engels cobbled together for v2 and 3, but in the -- in some ways much more serious -- way that perhaps the most important book of the tetralogy, the history of the theory, was never written. and i'm not just saying this because i like the history of economic thought (or at least not entirely), but because its THE book which would've attempted to justify his object and ground his own analysis. without this missing piece (and i have my doubts it could've been successfully written anyway), the whole thing can be conveniently knocked down once you start poking holes in the object, which is exactly what i've spent the last couple of years doing.

i've joked about this before, but in some ways böhm-bawerk had a better approach to this with capital & interest (a similar 3-volume plan, but which began with a critical history of the theories so that you knew what he was starting from and responding to). marx doesnt have this going for him really (especially not in his published works), so it's not all that clear how his high stakes intervention into the history which founds his account holds up. keynes has a similar problem (and nods to marxs language of "classical" economics) but uses it in an entirely different way to capture marshall in his net, yet it's also pretty clear that keynes doesn't have as good a grasp on the history as marx (or sraffa) -- self-serving narratives aside.

for me, this serves to drive a point home that i've made elsewhere that marx is simply contributing to a radical sub-genre of critiques of political economy, and many of the "great", "classical, "canonical", etc works of economics are actually just instances of the broader genre. you could push back on this in a history-of-science kind of way and say "oh sure but that's just how paradigms develop/shift etc, and why would anyone feel the need to intervene if they didn't feel like there was some missing element or wrong theory that needed to be amended somehow" etc etc, but part of my claim is that there is no such "paradigm" of classical economics to begin with (or at least not at the time it supposedly took place), which makes this whole thing much messier.

it's not until we get to marginalism and its discontents that you can begin to see the formation of a real orthodoxy in economics (up until this point, it would've been fairly incoherent to consider someone or yourself "heterodox" in a meaningful sense). the splintering which this singularity obscures/begets (and especially post-keynes), is much more structured than anything which had ever appeared in the history of economics previously, largely due to the now widespread academic institutionalization of economics as a discipline. the categories of economics are given some form of internal coherence for the first time in a way which actually makes something like an immanent critique possible (or at least, more possible than anything marx could pull off), but they have lost many of the elements that marx could wedge a critical crowbar between. this means that if you want to continue on marxian terrain, you sorta have to insist that we return to older categories, where we were a bit more secure (we were not), but it also completely inverts marx in an ironic way. the result of marginalism is basically that classical political economy, whatever it was (or wasn't) has been completely refuted. neoclassical economics IS the successful consummation of a critique of political economy, yet the best marxists can hope to accomplish is to dig up the corpse so that they can continue trying to pull off an attempted murder.

or, they are left reworking the newer "bourgeois" categories, contributing to economics in all the ways and for all the reasons you mentioned. either way, they are bound to an economics and part of the reason is because there has never been a real way out put on offer. marx never got far enough along to deliver a finishing blow and in fact couldn't even provide a convincing place to start. i don't think this means we should abandon the attempt, i just think it means we can't take any shortcuts or take marx's (or keynes' or sraffa's) word for granted in navigating any of this stuff. we can't "extend" the critique of political economy to account for the new shifts, we have to have a critique which is somehow capable of recognizing that its always been quicksand. or at least try to go after marginalism in a way which isn't intellectually lazy but is still capable of saying something about the real world we live in (claiming marginalism doesn't fit the real world doesn't actually pull this off, and usually just leads to more economics).

anyway this has become ridiculously long and isn't even really the response i was gonna write but here's my contribution to the critique of the critique of political economy.

I guess I'm going to passively @edwad on this because it was originally sort of supposed to be an ask for him only because. idk. as a tumblr commie he's our collective econ-theory advice columnist i guess. but i couldn't keep it short enough and it's more about me just talking to myself anyway. but I'm sitting here reading Skidelsky's edited Essential Keynes volume and it gets to the selections from the Tract on Monetary Reform. and Keynes says something about the natural interest rate and I'm trying to dredge something up from my brain about Sraffa's argument against a natural interest rate and end up falling down the rabbit hole on that a little bit and Wicksell's idea vs Hayek's idea of said concept. and I'm thinking about how every time I try to handle these ideas their concepts of things like "rent" and "interest" seems very slippery over time. and maybe I'm just broadly not well read enough. and how long it took me in high school even just to understand a substantialist value-concept from reading the opening chapters of capital.

but like what I really don't understand is the relationship of Marx's Critique taken more in its status as Critique to the conceptually related but still heterogeneous traditions of economics that come after him, in a way that isn't just attempting to rehabilitate the classical approach, or something like Ben Fine's critique of the explosion-implosion of the assumptions of marginalist theory, or like. idk Eatwell's constant insistence that modern macro is built on sand because of the Cambridge Capital controversy or whatever. those feel like attempts to say "the way we're doing economics is wrong" but is that warranted or useful if we're trying to say that the real insights of Marx are the places where he's doing something beyond just "these guys are doing economics wrong." Given the whole thing about the "categories of bourgeois economics" in the section on commodity fetishism, do we not have to follow the shifts in those categories, rather than say "well only the earlier categories were actually right."

in any case. re: the glorious-revolution posting from User @'ed Above I think it's interesting to look at this pivot to examining maybe something like more concrete a) financial technologies and b) policy as something important and like. idk I guess i've been personally meaning to tackle something like broader longue durée history. and I would really hope to end up with something like world-systems theory but more informed by a more critical approach to the economic concepts involved.

[snekdood]

idk ig i just don’t believe the whole “we’re reflections of eachother” shit bc it sounds like shit id hear from woowoo new age sites, i think if we’re anything we’re fragments of mirror shards, each shard different for each similarity-- but everyone organizes their own mosaic differently, so the true reflections hide in little glimpses, but it’s hard to see it as “just a reflection of you” since their mosaic looks otherwise incredibly different than yours.

[chemicalalice]

Fic: Stars in Your Eyes - Kinktober Day 21

Title: Stars in Your Eyes

Summary: Rhett is a good man. It is about time someone told him so.

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x female!Reader

Warnings: unprotected PinV sex, swearing, praise kink. Please be mindful of yourself and do not read if this content bothers you. 18+ only!

Word count: 2042

AN: Ooops I forgot to post this on time.

You looked up from the papers spread across the desk when you heard the soft knock on your office door. They may call you the Ice Queen in the office because you were so focused and no-nonsense when it came to work, but the sight before you had a giant smile spreading across your lips.

Rhett Abbott stood there, shoulders hunched, the saddest looking bunch of already wilting wildflowers clutched in one hand, and a small, hesitant grin on his face, like a dog preparing for a smack in the face from a newspaper should his presence be unwelcome. You couldn't think of a single scenario in which the sight of him wouldn't be a good thing.

You glanced at clock and winced. You were supposed to meet him outside 20 minutes ago. You stood and began shuffling the papers spread across your desk into a disorderly pile. "I am so sorry Rhett! I lost track of time!"

He gave a small shrug. "It's fine, I figured. I tried calling but it went straight to voicemail."

You snatched at the phone laying half hidden under a file folder. Two missed calls. The phone somehow on 'do not disturb' mode. "Shit. I'm really sor-"

"Its completely fine," he cut in, smile growing slightly. "I know this case has had you pretty distracted."

You sighed, shoulders dropping. You knew he wasn't going to hold it against you, but you still felt bad. You turned to resume gathering your things but took a moment to take a better look at him. He was still hovering in your doorway, the hand not holding the flowers shoved awkwardly in his jacket pocket. He looked uncomfortable and you realized how out of place he must feel; scuffed boots, beat up ball cap, and stained Carhartt jacket in a sea of manicures, suits, stilettos and ties.

The thing you two had going was still early days, but you knew he was harboring some severe insecurities about his perceived worth when it came to relationships. You had grown up in the same town, attended the same school, but you came from money and had always rubbed shoulders with the likes of the Tillerson's and other well off ranching families. You had actually even dated Luke for a period, before you both went off to college, him for business and you for law.

Rhett, on the other hand, hadn't ever had a steady relationship during school. And while he had no problems pulling girls now, they were just buckle bunnies; more interested in hooking up with a bull rider, any bull rider, than they actually were in Rhett himself. You sensed that despite his nonchalance towards that lifestyle, that it wasn't actually what he wanted at all.

Perhaps the biggest blow to Rhett's self esteem was Maria. She had toyed with him in school, and she had toyed with him again, worse, when she had returned to Wabang. She had looked down on Rhett for never getting out of Wabang, and yet she hadn't either. Not really. A few failed years in college and she was back as well. Rhett didn't see that, though. He just saw her scorn.

To those who wanted big city living, Wabang may have seen like just another podunk town. But the truth was, there was a lot of money in Amelia county; some of the largest ranches in the States were headquartered near there. You may have been fresh out of college, but representing those ranchers' business interests already had you pulling in six figures a year. So no, you didn't think living there was a failure at all. But you would have come back regardless; there was no peace for you in the city. It was pollution and noise and crowds. True happiness lived on the wide open planes, up the mountains, and amongst the pine. And you couldn't put a price on that.

But Maria's words had wormed their way deep into Rhett. His self-depreciating comments passed off as jokes made it clear that he thought a girl like you belong with a college educated, Rolex wearing, rich guy who maybe owned a ranch but never had to spend a single day working it. Not a family rancher with a beat up truck like him and only a mediocre rodeo career to offer. The only thing he had to his name was that truck and he still lived at home. It bugged him.

When you finished packing your stuff you clicked your desk lights off and crossed the office to where Rhett stood. Your heel almost made you level with Rhett, but you still had to lean up a few centimeters for your lips to meet. The kiss was soft, but lingering; right in the middle of all those guys Rhett thought were a better match for you. You hated that he thought that way, but you were happy to shut that voice up inside of him whenever could.

When you pulled back you reached for your bouquet, giving him your hand to hold instead. "Let's get out of here."

His cheeks were tinged pink but he was smiling as you led him out of the building hand in hand

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had convinced Rhett to skip the fancy dinner the two of you had previously planned and got fries and burgers to go at the diner instead. You wanted him to take you out stargazing.

Rhett, as you pleasantly discovered, was very knowledgeable about the night sky, and laying out, having him point out the various planets and constellations, was one of your favorite things to do with him. The nights were starting to get cold, and you figured this would be one of the last night you could star gaze with him comfortably.

When he found a spot he liked and turned off the truck you reached over and put a hand on his leg to keep him from climbing out.

"Hold on a minute," you said, giving him a tug so that he would slide over and meet you half way on the bench seat of the truck. You didn't want the steering wheel in the way of what you had planned.

When you had him where you wanted, you rose up and climbed on top of him, straddling him. His hands landed on your knees instinctively, but they quickly slide up under your skirt to rest on your upper thighs. "I think I like where this is going," he murmured, voice low and soft, that heart stopping grin one again stretching across his face, showing how pleased he was with the turn of events. You loved his voice, they way he talked, and his words caused that delicious tingle in-between you legs to flare to life.

You pushed his hat off his head before tangling your arms around his neck, neither one of you paying any attention as it hit the seat and slipped to the floor. Your face dipped to his, lips pressing together hotly. Beneath you, you felt him instantly harden at the contact, and you rocked down slightly, causing him to groan against your lips.

You laughed and leaned back, arms unwinding from his neck to pull your shirt over you head and tossing it to the floor of the cab. "I do want to look at the stars with you. But first, I want you to fuck me," you told him.

He sat up, nodding eagerly and hands falling to his belt buckle, which he began to unfasten. "Yeah, baby, I can do that."

You hesitate slightly, nothing Rhett would even notice, as small seed of doubt blooms in your belly at what you are going to do next, but then you lean in. "Good boy. Such a good boy for me," you purr, letting your lips graze across his cheek, and Rhett freezes, whole body tensing up before releasing with a full body shudder and a barely audible moan. Time stops, for a movement, but then he moves, avoiding looking at you as he resumes removing his jeans. You didn't need to see the look in his eyes to have your suspicions confirmed. You let him focus on his pants as you press an open mouthed kiss to his neck, tongue darting out to trace along the muscle where his neck met his shoulders. Rhett was the best man you had ever known, and you were going to give him what he so obviously craved and never got.

When his pants and underwear had finally been shoved down to his knees and your skirt was bunched up around your waist, he hooked a finger in the crotch of your panties and pulled them to the side, allowing you to hold his cock steady at your soaking entrance as your sunk down on him.

You both moaned at the sensation of your cunt, wet and hot, stretching around him. His head dropped to your shoulder and his arms came up to circle around you. You only stayed still for a moment, and then you began to move, hips rocking gently.

"God, you feel so good in me, Rhett. You make me feel so, so good." He shuddered again.

Your movements were slow and steady, unhurried. You wanted to take your time with him tonight. Make him feel just as good, as loved, as he always made you feel. Neither one of you had said it yet, but it was there; you both knew it, but insecurities from past relationships on both sides held it back. You were going to change that tonight.

Rhett reached up to unclasp your bra, and you wound your fingers in his hair, tugging with a gasp as his mouth latched on to one nipple, biting teasingly before tonguing the flesh to stiffness.

"You are so fucking handsome," your voice was breathy as you spoke. Rhett's hands had fallen to your hips, helping the rise and fall of your body and you could feel your pleasure bringing to grow. "So fucking sexy. And so, so good to me."

His switched to your other breast and you moaned. Fingers tightening in his hair, wanting to pull him closer and simultaneously push him away, your nipples becoming overly sensitive to his touch.

You rolled your hips, feeling the beginning sparks of your orgasm, and he fell away from you with a gasp.

"Please! Please don't stop," he gasped, not sure what he was even asking for. The need to come? Or for you to say more? Your eyes prickled at the raw vulnerability in his expression; the desperation there, begging silently for your words to be what your truly felt, and not just pillow talk.

"You are such a good man, baby. I am so lucky to have you. So proud to call you mine." You felt him trembling and knew it wasn't just from the orgasm that was rushing to overtake you both.

You made sure he was looking you directly in the eye when you moaned out your next words. "I love you, Rhett."

He was cursing, fingers digging into your hips as he forced you down on his cock and held you there as he exploded inside you. His face was pressed into your neck, but you could still make out the words he was gasping out with every hot pulse of cum. I love, I love you, fucking christ, I love you. You felt his teeth close around your collar bone and it was all to much, your orgasm sparked up your spine and you came so hard the world faded black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Afterward, when heart rates returned to normal you and we're both laughing and smiling as you messily detangled your bodies, Rhett spread a blanket in the bed of his truck and you settled in close to him to gaze up and the endless expanse of stars above you.

"I love you, baby," Rhett said again, words soft but the emotion behind them filling the space around you.

You pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw. "I love you too, cowboy."

Your relationship was still early days, but you already knew this was the man you want to spend the rest of your life with.

[sukirichi]

black magic [01]

REQUEST. arranged marriage + enemies to lovers (sukuna is a simp and lowkey a housewife)

CONTENT/WARNINGS. some suggestive scenes, but overall fluff and romance! slight crack fic, I guess? I was laughing when I wrote this lol

NOTES. I NEED A HUSBAND! SUKUNA I’M GOING TO CRY GOODBYE THIS HAS ME SOFT. also anon i’m not sure if you wanted something with more ~sexual tension~ since this is kind of just comedic, but I hope you like it anyway!

part one | part two (nsfw)

“This is new,” you comment with a glare, your ankle propped on Sukuna’s knee.

“Shut up,” he rolls his eyes, pushing your skirt aside to clean the wounds you attained through exorcising curses. You’ve taken a particularly strong curse today and you’re caught off guard, barely finishing the mission unscathed. Limping all the way back home isn’t easy especially since you live on top of the darned mountain, but if Sukuna’s going to kneel in front of you like this...maybe it wasn’t too tough a journey. “You should stop going to missions you’re not ready for. Look at you, all wounded and bloody.”

“You sound like you care.”

“You’re my wife,” he huffs while dropping the bloody towel on the floor. Sukuna wraps the bandage around your ankle and carries you bridal style even though you’re perfectly capable of walking, but he shoots you a silencing glare. You’d have knocked him in the face any other day, but he’s particularly warm and smells nice today – plus you’re beat – that you bury your face in his chest, ignoring that stupid fluttering in your stomach. “Of course I do.”

You snicker, mind tracing back to your earlier years of this dreaded marriage.

It definitely wasn’t the best – the memories blurring between strangling each other to making out as if breathing was never a thing – and it felt like forever ago when you first met him.

You’d never say it out loud, but... you don’t regret this arranged marriage. Not when Sukuna is tucking himself beside you on the bed, your head above his muscular chest a place similar to home. He covers both your bodies over with a blanket, pulling your body closer to him with a strong arm, his lips pressing onto the crown of your head.

Ugh, you think to yourself, giving in to the need to cuddle your husband after a long day of work. You still refuse to say it out loud, though, and you irk him further by muttering, “That’s not what you said two years ago.”

“I wasn’t in love with you then.”

 “I refuse to be married to you!”

Sukuna fights back the urge to cover his ears. Ever since your clan decided to visit his land and started exorcising curses one by one, his life has been nothing but hell. Not only are your relatives the most arrogant people ever with a consistent god complex, they just had to let their little mortal child be in charge of taking on the stronger curses. Seriously, what were they thinking, sending you – who’s barely even out of their training bra years – to deal with curses like him?

Everyone knows Sukuna is a no bullshit man. He won’t hesitate to cut your head off the moment you came raging at him, but then he sees how young you are and decides to send you back to your family.

Expecting that everyone would just call it a day and he’d get offerings for his unexpected mercy, Sukuna is beyond stupefied when they send you back to his temple, all dressed pretty with a basket of fruits and flowers braided in your hair. He remembers growling because you look adorable, but that’s easily wiped away when you open your mouth, your voice scratchy against his ears as you stomp your feet like the young mortal you are.

Sukuna pushes a thumb to his forehead to ease the impending headache, and that’s just from your presence. Something inside him tells that you’re going to be a bigger pain than you look.

“You don’t have much of a choice. You should’ve thought of that before deciding to run rampage over my land,” he reminds, turning boredly to his lone servant from above his throne. Sukuna isn’t impressed, to say the least, especially with your clan’s audacious proposition to gain his favour just this once. “Is this really the woman you bring me – the one they insist to be my wife?”

“She is their best fighter, my Lord.”

Well, he can’t disagree to that. You did, after all, single-handedly give him a cut on the cheek. “She’s feisty indeed.”

“Don’t talk as if I’m not here!”

“Mouthy too,” he mumbles to himself, but your sorcerer senses are sharp and easily picks up on it. He sees you flush angry again, looking immensely adorable with your tiny fists clenched like that and he snorts, waving a hand in the air. “Whatever. Get the wedding over with,” he nods to his servant, his sigh loud and tired as he makes his way to you.

You don’t stiffen at each haunting step, his eyes only glimmering harder with entertainment. It’s rare to find a mortal that doesn’t quiver at the sight of him, the urge to break you only growing stronger.

Even as he cups your face, making sure to not let his claws dig into your precious skin, Sukuna smirks. You’ll be entertaining indeed.

So Sukuna makes a promise, four eyes surveying the way your body is starting to fill in curves at the right places, the swell of your flesh just perfect in his hands... He chuckles to himself, daunting you further as he leans down to your ear, taking pleasure in the slight way your breath hitches. “Maybe then I’ll get to teach you a lesson or two.”

You’re definitely something else, taking advantage of each presented opportunity and not wasting any time before you make your move. Right after the wedding and everyone’s left, leaving you alone with your new husband behind closed doors; you push him until he’s on the ground, legs straddling each side of his hips while you growl above him – the sound similar to a battle cry.

Sukuna merely smirks, barely moving a muscle as his large hands come up to rest on your hips to steady you. “I’ve imagined countless ways you’d be on top of me like this,” his eyes light up with humour upon feeling the cold blade on his skin, “None of them included a knife on my neck though.”

“Shut your mouth. I will kill you myself,” you warn, pressing your knife harder until it draws a slight tinge of blood.

You hardly look threatening above him like this, dolled up to look the best in your wedding with this cursed being. If anything, you look more divine than deadly, and Sukuna thinks that perhaps your beauty could be your best weapon. You are bewitching, after all.

“I refuse to be your Queen and sit next to your throne.”

“Then why didn’t you stop the wedding?”

“I—”

Sukuna’s teasing grin grows wider when you pull back, trying so hard to not trip over your words. It takes all of his self-restraint to not take you right then and there, but he does a good job of holding back, enjoying this view above him instead. “Could it be you’re attracted to me after all, hm, little one?”

“Do not test me, Curse. I’m more than capable of exorcising you myself.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. You’re the strongest in the Gojo clan, are you not?” he prompts to appease you, “I don’t even want to see what you’re capable of, but maybe, just maybe...” just as his eyes darken, the edges of his lips turning up into a smirk, Sukuna digs his claws into your thigh in a possessive show of ownership, a painful reminder that you’re his now. “...You could put on a little show for me?”

“I hate you!”

Experienced and strong as you are, you’re nothing compared to a thousand year old curse who’s killed a lot more people faster than you could blink. Sukuna immediately notices the animalistic way you draw your blade, arm swung back with rage written all over your face. Before you could so much as bat an eye, he easily switches the positions until you’re under him, using only one hand to pin your arms above your head, your blade effortlessly thrown to the other side of the room.

“As I thought, you’re a lot prettier under me like this,” he observes, roaming his eyes shamelessly over the fabric clinging prettily to your body. You’ve fallen silent at his unconcealed attention, your compliance enticing him to lean closer just to inhale your intoxicating scent.

“Not so feisty now, little one? Where’d all your hatred for me go?” Sukuna pulls back with widened eyes, “Oh? Am I hearing it wrong or is your pathetic human heart beating so loud right now?” You refuse to look at him, wriggling your hips in an attempt to leave, completely unaware that the mere movement is hypnotizing the curse above you. Sukuna grips your hips in warning, not wanting to destroy you – not now, anyway. “You know all you need to do is say it. I’d gladly take you right here and then.” His words spoken with that deep, throaty voice immediately sends a wave of heat down your core, but you turn away from him, breathing hard and nervously; something Sukuna picks up on in an instant. “Little one...have you never had a man hold you like this before?”

“N-no...”

“I see. Pure and innocent behind that ferocity, huh?” He surprises you by pulling away, smoothening his white robes down as he leaves you panting still on the floor. “Fine. I won’t touch you unless you ask me to.”

“I’d rather die before that ever comes out from my mouth.”

“We’ll see about that,” he smirks, winking at you before he shuts the door. “Little one.”

There’s a lot of weird – and utterly inconvenient things – about being Sukuna’s wife. The man eats everything, absolutely everything, and it doesn’t help that he sucks at hunting too. For a man so huge and burly, he sure is lazy, preferring to do the laundry in the riverside instead while you go out every day to prepare your meals.

You actually don’t mind, but it’s very fun to complain around him.

You’re on your way back to the temple when Sukuna grabs at you, making you drop the freshly caught birds onto the ground. Your brows furrow, about to scold him for being too eager again when Sukuna stares at your arm, his lips pressing into a thin line.

Following his line of sight, your lips form an ‘o’ shape. There’s blood trickling down your forearm from his claws accidentally cutting you, guilt written all over his face. Another weird thing about Sukuna is that he babbles a lot when he’s emotional, and you’re too tired to hear him beat himself over it that you just drag him inside your room, sitting his ass down before taking a clipper.

Sukuna scoffs when you start cutting his nails. It irks him that you don’t even bother wiping the blood off first and he tsks, eyes narrowed at you. “You should have thicker skin.”

You roll your eyes as you file his nails; you’ve been married to him long enough to know it’s his way of saying sorry. Not wanting to let him wallow in guilt any louder, you pad kisses over his knuckles before swiping the black ink off your desk, using a pen brush to colour your nails instead. Sukuna hovers behind you, head tilted to the side as he watched you. “Are you painting your nails black?” he utters in disbelief, trying to ignore the fact he feels...proud and even a little smug. “Not so fitting for the angelic sorcerer now, isn’t it?”

“I’m only doing this so you don’t feel left out.”

“Maybe I’ll add markings to your pretty face too,” he cups your jaw to make you turn to him, landing a solid kiss flat to your lips which makes you sigh, pretending to be annoyed but leaning over for another peck anyway. Sukuna laughs and pulls you onto his lap, kissing your neck this time around, a little annoyed that you don’t stop in brandishing your nails. “Wife, what do you think?”

“I have work, Sukuna. You flirting with me doesn’t change the fact I need to go.”

“Come home safe for me, at least?” he breathes down your neck, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You’ve definitely changed since the first time he’s met you, starting from a mean (although he stands strong that you are still mean to him sometimes) temperamental little one to a mature, stronger sorcerer who’s secretly weak for his wife.

Unable to resist him as always, you turn around once you’ve finished painting your nails, rubbing your nose over his until your strong, scary husband is turning into putty at your hands. “Of course I will,” you peck his lips one last time, Sukuna’s eyes closing as he dives in for a deeper kiss. “I’ll always come back home to my handsome husband.”

If anyone were to ask how it’s possible that the King of Curses is actually very soft for his sorcerer wife, everyone would claim it’s impossible and a heresy – but if you ask Sukuna, it’s probably just black magic doing its wonders.

[imagineyourworld]

The Wife

Wolffe x Fem!Padawan!Reader

Summary: When visiting a backwards village Plo Koon’s Padawan has to pretend to be married to Commander Wolffe in order to get the residents to back off

Warnings: Misogyny, a bit of nudity, a bit spicy making out

Check out my other work here

-------

You had been walking for what felt like hours when your Master, Plo Koon, received a message and asked you to join him at the front of the train of walking soldiers.

“(Y/N), my dear, I have some unfortunate news”, he started.

You looked at your Master expectically. Unfortunate news could mean basically anything and you could only hope that it wasn’t anything that would massively complicate your relief mission.

“As you know we’re going to deliver supplies to the Gonchee people here, and we don’t know much about them.” You simply nodded, not wanting to interrupt your Master, who continued just a moment later. “Master Yoda just forwarded me recent information we gained about the Gonchee. It seems they see human women as nothing more than, for a lack of a better word, prices or trophies to be won or taken.”

Your curious expression morphed into one of shock and disgust. Of course you knew that not every planet had the same standards when it came to equality between the sexes, but this level of misogyny was something you hadn’t expected to be confronted with.

“If I had known earlier I would have offered to let you stay on Coruscant or accompany another battalion”, Plo tried to apologize. But you just shook your head.

“It’s quite alright, Master. If I am to be a Jedi knight soon I will have to learn to handle situations such as this one, though I cannot say I am happy.”

Plo put a heavy hand on your shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze. He knew you were capable of handling yourself and could fight off a couple of Gonchee if necessary, but as your Master he still felt responsible and worried for your safety and wellbeing.

“Master Yoda also said that the Gonchee usually don’t bother married women, they consider them to be claimed by their husband.”

You looked up to your Master, expecting him to continue, but he just stared straight ahead, his expression never betraying his thoughts.

“I am not married, though”, you finally said.

“No, you’re not. You’re a Jedi and shouldn’t have attachments”, he answered. 

Part of you wanted to correct him. You were not a Jedi, not yet at least. But the other, bigger, part was overjoyed your Master considered you a Jedi and not just a Padawan.

“I suppose I could ask Commander Wolffe to pretend to be your husband. Just for your safety, of course”, Plo continued. 

For a fraction of a second you lost your balance, but quickly managed to catch your footing again. He couldn’t know about your crush on Wolffe, could he? Sure, your Master was a great Jedi, strong in the force, and he knew you better than anyone, having raised you like his own daughter, but you have been so careful to hide your feelings for your commander. 

“Only if that’s what you want, of course.” 

You took a moment to consider the proposition. Feelings aside, it was a good idea. If being ‘married’ would make sure the Gonchee wouldn’t bother you and ensure you could do your job that was a good thing, the rational thing to do. 

Finally you nodded. “Only if Wolffe wants to, though. Otherwise I’ll ask Sinker.” 

-------

-------

Wolffe hasn’t been watching you and the General, that would be ridiculous. And of course he hasn’t noticed how your hair shines in the sun or how you smile at your Master with love and trust in your eyes. And when Plo Koon asked to talk to him a while later he wasn’t hoping to find out more about your conversation with him, that thought never crossed his mind. 

“Wolffe, I have a favour to ask you.” 

Wolffe simply nodded. He would to anything for the kind Jedi who treated him and his brothers like actual people, who never showed them anything other than respect. 

“Of course, General. What is it?” 

“I want you to be married to (Y/N).” 

It took all the self control Wolffe could gather not to look at the Jedi, not to blush and not to let his feelings show. 

“Is this a test?”, he asked. Though it seemed out of character for Plo, maybe he was trying to get Wolffe to confess his feelings for you. Feelings he had spent months and months trying to deny and repress, feelings that would get him in more trouble than he could ever imagine if anyone were to find out. 

“No, no”, the General reassured his Commander. He then told Wolffe about the situation and why he was asking this of him. 

Wolffe nodded along with the explanation before finally daring to look at Plo. 

“Did (Y/N) suggest me as her fake husband?”, he asked, trying his best to keep his voice even and steady. He knew it was a arisky question that might tell the Jedi more about his feelings than he should know, but he couldn’t help but wonder and he wouldn’t agree if you would rather be fake married to one of his brothers instead of him. 

“It was my idea, though she seemed to be quite happy with you as her ‘husband’“, Plo answered in a tone that told Wolffe the Jedi had to be smiling under his mask. “I just thought you were the obvious choice, considering how close the two of you are.” 

Wolffe nodded, not knowing what to say. 

“That makes sense”, he finally said. 

Plo looked at the young man next to him. Though Wolffe’s expression was usually stoic, now it was even more so. It seemed forced, as if he was trying his best not to let any feelings show. The General couldn’t help but realize just how similar the clone’s expression was to yours just a bit earlier. 

“Maybe you should go to (Y/N) to discuss how you’re going to handle the situation. I’ll inform the others to play along”, Plo suggested after a few moments of awkward silence and with a quick “Yes, sir” Wolffe turned around to find you amidst the soldiers. 

-------

By the time you were nearing the village, you and Wolffe had just finished your plan. 

“Let’s go over it one last time”, he suggested. 

You opted not to tell him that that would be the third ‘one last time’, partly because you knew he didn’t like being corrected and would not hesitate so snap at you, partly because going over this plan like any other mission made it easier for you to let it sink in that this was just that, a plan, a mission, pretend. You were not married to Wolffe, nor would you ever be. The two of you were friends, nothing more. Because no matter how you felt, how you’ve been feeling for quite some time now, you could never be together, even on the off chance that Wolffe reciprocated your feelings. 

“The Gonchee don’t know anything about Jedi, other than that we’re here to help, so they won’t find our ‘marriage’ suspicious. We’ll them we met at the beginning of the war and have been married for a couple of months. Really, Wolffe, it’s not that complicated, I’m sure we’ll both be able to remember to play the part.” 

The snark reply you had been expecting didn’t come. Instead Wolffe simply nodded and stared straight ahead. 

“Just remember to keep physical contact to a minimum”, he reminded you for the fifth time. 

You rolled your eyes. Sure, Wolffe had never been one for hugs and cuddling, unlike many of his brothers, who often seeked you out for a comforting hug, but he really didn’t have to tell you to keep your hands to yourself every couple of minutes, you were not some hormonal teenager. 

“Will do, Commander.” 

Without another word, or even so much as a nod, Wolffe speeded up his steps to join Master Plo at the front. 

“What’s gotten into your husband?”

You turned around to find Sinker looking at you with an amused expression, Boost right beside him sporting a smug grin. 

“Guess he’s just not too thrilled about being fake married to me”, you tried to joke, even though just the thought hurt more than you cared to admit. Of course you knew nothing could ever happen between you, but you’d be lying if you said that you hadn’t hoped that this mission would allow you to pretend for just a little while, to maybe get closer to him. 

“If he really didn’t want to do it, he wouldn’t do it. I heard him talking to the General, Plo asked him, he didn’t order him. Wolffe could have stepped down and let one of us take his place. And I’m sure most of us would have happily done so”, Boost claimed, laying a hand on your shoulder and sending you a warm smile. 

Maybe it would have been better to do this with someone else, someone who would put his arms around you to really sell the story and who you could laugh about the whole affair with afterwards. And yet you knew that being in a ‘relationship’ with anyone other than Wolffe would have been worse than Wolffe’s obvious dislike of the whole situation. 

“It’s fine. Wolffe’s just being Wolffe, he’ll come around once we arrive at the village”, you tried to reassure both the troopers and yourself. 

-------

Wolffe had, in fact, not come around by the time you reached the village. He had spent the rest of the way talking to your Master and completely ignoring you. It was moments like this that made you question why you even had feelings for him, he was so hot and cold, sending you gentle smiles and sharing inside jokes one moment and acting like you didn’t even know each other the next. But it was those few moments when his gentler side, which you alway thought was more his true self, showed, that kept you hooked. 

It was Plo Koon who interrupted your thoughts by asking you to join him and Wolffe at the front to greet the Gonchee. 

The small creatures were no bigger than Jawas, had greenish fur and ears that reminded you of Loth cats, other than that they looked pretty human. 

“Good evening. I am General Plo Koon, these are Commander (Y/N) (Y/L/N), Commander Wolffe and the 104th. We were sent by the Republic to deliver supplies and help you reset your village.”

The Gonchee at the front, who seemed to be an older man, bowed his head slightly, the others, all male you realized, followed suit. 

“Welcome, Jedi Koon. I see you have brought a female with you, I don’t suppose she’s here to stay with us?” 

The way he licked his lips with his yellow tongue made you shudder. You could sense resentment practically rolling off your master at the Gonchee’s words, but more than that it was Wolffe’s arm around your shoulder that calmed you. 

“My wife will most certainly not stay with you, she’ll be by my side, always.” 

Maybe you imagined that his arm tightened around you as you leaned into him, but you certainly didn’t imagine the growl coming from his throat as the Gonchee looked you up and down. 

“Such a shame. Having a human woman is an honor to us, you know and this one seems to be a fine specimen. You’re lucky to have her.” 

Though his words sounded as if he was buying your lie and letting go of the thought of having you, whatever that meant, you couldn’t bring yourself to believe that he, or any other male Gonchee, would leave you alone. Not even Wolffe looking at you from the side, a small smile on his lips, could relief you of your anxiety. 

“I feel like the luckiest man in the galaxy every minute I have her next to me.” 

His words were directed at the Gonchee, but somehow they felt like more. Like something one would whisper to a lover in private. 

It was only when Plo spoke up again that you could tear your eyes away from Wolffe, from his warm gaze and full lips. 

“The men will bring in the supplies now, if you’ll allow, and then we’ll settle for the night.” 

The Gonchee at the front nodded. 

“Of course, of course. Though the lady should stay with the other women. You see, we don’t allow women to do any physical labour. 

-------

Several Gonchee had offered to accompany you to the hut the women of the village spend most of their time in, but you had declined. That didn’t mean you could go alone, however. The entire 104th seemed to have noticed the glances the male Gonchee shot you and had silently agreed to never let you out of their sight while you were in the village. Which is how you found yourself with your hand in the crook of Wolffe’s elbow, being lead to the ‘women’s hut’ as it was called. 

“I’ve been to many planets and have met people of many cultures, but none of them were as backwards as the Gonchee. If they could see you in action they would know not to look at you like that”, your companion grumbled. 

You swallowed down the urge to tell him that quite a few shinies have made their moves on you in the past, though you had shot all of them down and had to admit that none of them reduced you to your body the way the Gonchee did. 

“It’s only for a couple of days. It’ll be like a mini vacation for me, not having to do any work.” 

You could feel Wolffe eying you from the side but refused to look his way. 

“I wish I could stay with you”, he said, more to himself than to you. “I mean someone. I wish someone, one of us, could stay with you.” 

You chuckled. It was rare to see this side of Wolffe, the side that corrected his words, that stuttered and almost seemed nervous. 

“I’d like you to stay. But you have a job to do and I can defend myself, should anything happen.” 

You placed a hand on his arm, and though you were sure he couldn’t feel it through the plastoid armor, he seemed to relax just a little bit. 

“We both know that I can take care of myself. Besides, it’s only for a couple of hours, I’ll be with you again before you know it.” 

He nodded, but the frown never left his face entirely. 

“I’ll have someone come in and check on you every now and then. It’s not without reason that we have to pretend to be married, we cannot be careful enough.” 

Wolffe’s tone told you that there was no use in arguing. And maybe he was right, if even your Master, who you knew would never disregard your ability to fend for yourself, thought it would be safe to always have a man, to always have Wolffe, with you, it couldn’t hurt to be safe rather than sorry. 

“Sounds reasonable.” 

Just as soon as the words left your mouth you stopped in front of the the small building the Gonchee had told you to go to. It looked ancient and primitive compared to the skyscrapers on Coruscant and shining starships you were used to, but through the open door you could spot pillows and blankets and a roaring fire inside. At least you’d be comfortable.

The women inside seemed to have heard you approaching, because most of them stopped their work and conversations to catch a glance at you and Wolffe. 

“I guess this is it”, you said more to yourself than your fellow Commander. He nodded nonetheless. 

“Be careful. Don’t do anything reckless.” 

You tried your best to swallow any remark since your usual answer to something like that would be exactly what Wolffe would describe as “reckless”. 

“I’ll see you soon”; you replied instead. And because you could still feel the eyes of the Gonchee women on you, you lifted yourself up on your tiptoes and pressed a gentle kiss to Wolffe’s cheek. After all, you had to make your marriage believable. 

The low noise Wolffe made shocked you for a split moment. It was a mixture between a grunt and a sigh that didn’t speak of surprise as much as... disbelief? You couldn’t quite place it. Though you tried not to think about it too much as your turned away from him and entered to hut, where the women started questioning you immediately. 

-------

True to his word Wolffe had sent someone of the pack to check in on you every ten minutes or so, but despite their reports that you were perfectly fine and just talking to the women of the village, Wolffe only felt a sense of relief when he saw you again himself. 

You were sitting next to Sinker on one of the many logs surrounding the fireplace. The rest of the pack as well as Plo Koon were either on logs or the ground nearby while the Gonchee, mostly the men but a few women as well, sat on the other side of the fire. 

As Wolffe stepped closer you lifted your head, and as always he couldn’t tell whether you had heard his footsteps or felt his force signature. 

The old Gonchee who had greeted you was the first to speak up. 

“Ah, the husband returns. Such a shame, I had thought I might have a chance with that lovely woman of yours after all.”

Wolffe knew that the polite thing to do would be to answer him, but one of the first things General Koon taught his men was that it was better to say nothing at all if you didn’t have anything nice to say. So he simply walked over to where you were sitting and squeezed himself into the space between you and the end of the log, which resulted in you being squished between him and Sinker. A scenario Wolffe, being the overly protective man he is, usually wasn’t too fond of, but in this the more of the Wolfpack were around you, the better. 

It was only when he felt you moving impossibly closer to him, when he smelled the last clinging bit of your sweet perfume, that had somehow endured the walk to the village and your time in the women's’ hut, that he was finally able to relax. You’d be right next to him, or at least one of his brothers or the General, for the rest of the night, meaning you were safe from the Gonchee for now. 

Suddenly he felt your lips right next to his ear, your breath hitting his skin. 

“If we wanna sell this marriage you cannot just sit there like a droid, Wolffe.” 

The way you whispered, almost purred, his name made shivers run down his spine. And though he tried to suppress it, your soft giggle told him that you’d noticed. 

With a small sigh he put his arm around your waist and pulled you even closer to him. So close that he could practically feel your body melting into his, though he tried not to think about how right it felt to have you in his arms, how your body seemed to perfectly fit right next to his. 

“Is this better?”, he whispered in your ear. Out of the corner of his eye he could see you biting your lip and even pressing your thighs together. He shook his head, he must have imagined that. It was probably just you trying to get comfortable in this new position. 

“How long have to two of you been married?”, one of the younger Gonchee asked. 

For just a moment you tensed beneath Wolffe’s arm before relaxing again. 

“Just a couple of months”, you replied. Your smooth lie impressed Wolffe, being raised by Plo Koon you were usually a fan of telling the truth and he couldn’t help but wonder where you learned to lie like that. 

“And you let your wife fight?”, another Gonchee asked, the disbelief clear in his voice. 

Wolffe sneaked a glance at you. How could anyone look at you and not see a warrior? Sure, your appearance might not be the most threatening, but wasn’t it obvious that the way you pressed your lips together spoke of determination? That you eyes told anyone who looked into them how much you’ve been through and how deeply you cared? That your hands were calloused from holding a lightsaber and yet soft enough to comfort a clone in distress? 

“It’s not up to me whether she fights or not.” 

A grumble of disagreement was heard from the assembled Gonchee, or at least from the men. 

“We are very fortunate to have a warrior as great as (Y/N) fighting besides us every day”, the General said after a while. For anyone who knew him it was obvious that he was trying to end the subject while defending you at the same time, but the Gonchee seemed to think of his statement as a challenge. 

“But what about children? How will she carry children if she is fighting? 

From the way your shoulders tensed underneath Wolffe’s arm he could tell that you were close to telling the Gonchee of once and for all, and apparently SInker on your other side could tell as well, because now he jumped into the conversation. 

“They’re still newly weds, children can wait until the honeymoon phase is over, don’t you agree?” 

The oldest Gonchee leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. 

“We do not care for such sentiments. Our women cook our food, sow our clothes, take care of our children and warm our beds, believe me, it’s easier that way. Perhaps you should try it, Commander.” 

For what felt like the thousandth time that day Wolffe looked at you. Of course you knew that you had to represent the Republic wherever you went, but usually that didn’t stop you from speaking up for what’s right. He wasn’t sure whether he should be impressed by or concerned about your self restraint. 

“It’s very different in our culture. We marry for love, most of the time at least”, you finally said. And if he hadn’t been staring at you already Wolffe would never have noticed the way your eyes flitted over to him when you said “love”. 

Several of the Gonchee opened their mouth to argue, but lucky for the entire 104th a few women carrying trays with various foods and drinks appeared and rendered the men silent. 

-------

Shortly after a near silent meal your Master stood up. 

“I suppose it would be best for us to call it a night. We will have to be up early tomorrow if we want to reach out ship again before nightfall.” 

The Gonchee leader stood up as well and slightly bowed his head before the Jedi. 

“Very well. We have prepared our assembly hut for you, I will show you the way.” He stopped for a moment and looked over to where you were still sitting between Wolffe and Sinker. “Though I know you follow different customs, we Gonchee do not allow women to sleep in a room with people they’re not related or married to, which is why we have also prepared an empty hut for the Commander and his wife. And I suppose they will need privacy so she can perform her marital duties. My son will show them the way” 

You were quite certain that at one point throughout the day your own rank as Commander had been mentioned, but even though you really wanted to correct the old Gonchee, you were tired of dealing with them all day and decided against it. Though the same could not be said for the Wolfpack. Several of them, including Wolffe and Sinker next to you as well as Boost next to Sinker, spoke up to correct him. 

A younger Gonchee, who you assumed was said son, stood up and looked at you with a twinkle in his eyes. 

“Alright, Commanders”, he said. The ironic way in which he pronounced the word made Wolffe roll his eyes, which by now you could tell even if you weren’t looking at him. “Follow me.” 

The two of you bid goodnight to the others and did as the Gonchee had said. The thought of probably having to share a bed with Wolffe crossed your mind for a moment, but it was gone as soon as it came. Though as soon as the son opened the door to a small hut, smaller than any you had seen before, it returned. 

The ceiling was low, the room was small and the only pieces of furniture were a small bed and a single bedside table. 

“It’s not much but it’ll do for the night”, the Gonchee said. Though the words were probably supposed to be apologetic, his tone was anything but. 

Wolffe, bowing his head due to the low ceiling, stepped into the hut while you remained outside. That, however, proved to be a mistake just a moment later, because the Gonchee stepped closer, closer than you would have wanted, and looked up at you. 

“You might rather spend the night in my room, it’s bigger and more comfortable and I could really use someone in my bed, especially a pretty human woman such as yourself.” 

Due to his words and the way he eyed you, especially with your private parts almost in his eyeline because of his short height, you wanted nothing more than to punch him. Maybe kick him. Maybe cut off something of his with your lightsaber. And if it hadn’t been for Wolffe you would have, and ruined your mission within a split second. 

But there was Wolffe, knight in plastoid armour protecting you from any rash decisions. He had left the hut and was now standing behind you, from where he put his arms around your middle and, you were sure, glared daggers at the Gonchee. 

“I suggest you leave my wife alone”, he growled and tightened his grip on you even more. 

You weren’t sure whether it was his words, the growl or his arms around you and your back to his chest, but something about his behaviour did something to you. Something that would make it a million times harder to share a room, share a bed, with him tonight. As if your crush on the Commander wasn’t already bad enough...

“I thought in your culture you love the one you marry and if you love this woman you wouldn’t want her to miss out on spending a night with a real man, would you?” 

If the situation wasn’t so tense you would have laughed. A real man? He was covered in fur! 

“Wolffe gives me everything I need and more. I wouldn’t leave him for any man in the entire galaxy.” 

It was only when the words left your mouth that you realized just how true they were. You really had to get that under control, having a crush on your fellow Commander was bad enough, you would not allow yourself to actually fall in love with him. You couldn’t jeopardize your friendship, your future as a Jedi knight, everything and everyone you’ve ever known for a man who you knew thought of you as a friend. 

The Gonchee looked you up and down one last time before glaring at Wolffe. 

“Then I suppose I should bid the two of you good night.”

And without another word he turned around and left the two of you alone. 

As soon as he was gone Wolffe let go of you and put some distance between you. 

“You should lie down, you must be tired after dealing with those idiots all day.” 

His words made you turn around to face him. Once again you just couldn’t read him. One moment he made your heart beat faster by actually acting like your husband and the next he pretended like you were nothing more than acquaintances. But for once you grew tired of this behaviour and refused to oblige, instead you stepped closer to him again and put a hand on one of the arm he had crossed across his chest. 

“I’m sure you’re just as tired, if not more. Let’s both go to bed.” 

He raised one eyebrow, but other than that he didn’t make a move to break contact with you again. 

“There’s only one bed.” 

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, a gesture you had often copied from Wolffe himself. 

“I know that. But we’re old enough and trust each other enough to sleep in the same bed for one night”, you argued. You didn’t know what made you do it, but you couldn’t resist the urge to lean even closer, stand up on your tiptoes and whisper into his ear. “You’re my husband, after all. And husband and wife usually sleep in the same bed. And how else are you supposed to protect me from the Gonchee?” 

You were too close to his ear to actually see his face, but you were sure he was smirking as he scoffed. 

“I thought you were plenty capable of handling the Gonchee yourself, Commander.” 

The way he said your title did something to you you’d rather not investigate any further. He was teasing, of course he was, but though two could play that game you were simply too tired.

“Just join me in bed when you’re ready. Otherwise you’ll have to sleep on the cold floor and I’ll have to explain to Master Plo why his Commander is sore all over tomorrow.” You could have left it at that, you should have, but you just had to add one more sentence. “And I can think of more pleasant ways to make you sore.” 

As you left him standing and entered the hut you could hear a choked noise coming from him. 

-------

“Finally decided to join me?”, you teased when Wolffe slipped underneath the cover. 

Wolffe didn’t answer. He couldn’t think of an answer, couldn’t think at all. Not with you so close, laying beside him, trusting him to sleep next to you, to defend you if any of the Gonchee were to try something while you were in your most defenseless state. 

“Wolffe”, you whispered after a moment of silence. 

Now he had no choice but to answer. 

“What is it?”, he grunted. And instantly regretted his gruff reply. This was his one chance to have you close, to forget that there was no way the two of you could ever be more than friends. 

“Thank you, for today. And tonight. I’m glad you’re my ‘husband’.” 

Wolffe wasn’t good with words, but in that moment he really had no idea what to say. 

“It really showed us what we’re missing, didn’t it? The chance to be in love, to be married and not have to hide your feelings”, you continued. 

For a second Wolffe’s heart stopped beating. Could you be talking about him not having to hide your feelings or was is just a general statement? Or did you maybe mean that you... No, that was impossible. 

“Anyways, we should get some sleep now, we have an early start tomorrow”, you concluded. 

From then on it only took a few seconds for your breathing to even out and just was Wolffe was about to sigh in relief that he no longer had to pretend that being near you wasn’t affecting him, you rolled over from your back onto your side and were now pressed up against Wolffe. 

It wasn’t just his heart that stopped now, his breathing did as well. How could he move even to take another breath with you so close, with your head resting underneath his chin, your legs intertwined with his and your arm lazily thrown over his torso. 

“Damn it”, he mumbled, though he instantly came to regret having made a sound. Luckily you were still fast asleep, if anything you cuddled up even closer to Wolffe. 

Slowly, more careful than he had ever been, he lifted his own arm to wrap it around your waist and pull you even closer. He let out a content sigh, breathing in the scent of your shampoo in the process. 

Wolffe knew for a fact that he wouldn’t get any sleep that night. This was his one chance to share a bed with you, and even though he would have loved to fall asleep and wake up next to you, he preferred cherishing every second of the night. 

-------

The next morning you were woken up not by the sun shining directly in your face, nor Wolffe’s sort snoring or the birds chirping outside, but by the unfamiliar voices speaking in what you recognized as the language of the Gonchee. 

You decided that it might be best to pretend to still be asleep, which is why you moved even closer to Wolffe and buried your head underneath his chin. In turn he pulled you closer to him, which made you realize that he had had one arm around you the entire time. You were almost too distracted by the warm and comforting presence of Wolffe next to you and the safety his arm around your waist guaranteed to notice that his breathing changed as he slowly woke up. Though like you Wolffe must have decided not to make it known that he was awake, it was only the more uneven breaths and the stiffening of his body that made it obvious. 

“Might I ask why you have invaded my commanders’ privacy?”, a familiar voice cut through the Gonchees’ conversation. And though you knew that it was safe to ‘wake up’ not that Plo Koon was here, both you and Wolffe still pretended to be fast asleep. Which had nothing to do with the fact that you simply didn’t want to face a reality where you weren’t cuddling in bed with Wolffe, nothing at all.  

“We... I....”, one of the Gonchee stammered. 

“We were here to wake them up”, another voice, who you recognized as the leader’s son, tried to explain. 

You both heard and sensed you master coming closer, and though part of you was worried what he may say, or worse think, about the position you and Wolffe were in, the bigger part was comforted by the fact that the Gonchee were either afraid enough or had enough respect for the Jedi to hurry out of the hut within seconds. 

“I know you’re awake.” Your Plo’s voice sounded amused rather than mad, though to be fair, in all your years of being his Padawan you had only seen him angry a handful of times, and almost never at you. 

It took a lot of self-restraint to fight the urge to cuddle closer to Wolffe for one last second before opening your eyes, but you managed. In moments like these you really wished Plo wouldn’t have to wear a mask, it would make it worlds easier to guess his feelings if you could just see his face. 

“I take it the two of you slept well?”, he asked. “The Gonchee certainly seemed to think so.” 

You didn’t know what to say. Was there anything you could say without letting either Wolffe or Plo Koon know just how well you slept with your fellow commander by your side? How much you never wanted to go to sleep without him in your arms again and how much you already missed him, now that he was just a few centimeters away? 

“Did you understand them, sir?”, Wolffe asked. It didn’t escape your notice that he didn’t answer the question either, though that could simply be due to the fact that Wolffe despised small talk, even with the man who was like a father to him. 

“I understood enough to know that they believe the two of you to be very much in love. As well as a few comments I’d rather not repeat, or think  about ever again”, Plo replied. As he spoke his eyes shifted between you and Wolffe, though you tried your best not to meet his gaze. You knew that he could already tell more than enough about your emotions through your force connection, if he saw your face, saw the love and admiration that must be visible in your eyes, he would know just how much you cared for Wolffe. 

“I’ll let you get ready then. Be outside in 10 minutes, we’re leaving in 20.” With those words Master Plo turned around, left the hut and left the two of you alone. 

You looked over at Wolffe, who, same as you, was leaning against the wobbly headboard. 

“For what it’s worth, I really did sleep well. Better than I had in a long time”, you said with a slight smile on your lips. Maybe this was overstepping a boundary, but right now you didn’t care. 

All Wolffe, in a very characteristic yet disappointing, fashion did was nod before standing up and starting to put on the first pieces of his armour. Other than you, who had actually changed into a pyjama while Wolffe had still been outside the hut last night, he had slept in his blacks and didn’t really have to change, or rather undress. 

You, however, did. At first you glanced around the hut, looking for some sort of privacy you knew you wouldn’t find. Then you considered your options: You could ask Wolffe to leave, or to simply turn around, while you would change and he’d do it with probably only an amused smile, or you could just change real quick while he was still busy with his armour. In the blink of an eye you decided on the second option, partly because Wolffe, as well as the other clones in the 104th, had seen you bloody and sweaty, with torn clothes and in various states of undress before, either in the medbay or when you had been in a particular hurry, but mostly you just didn’t want to send Wolffe away, not after having spent the night together. 

It was only when you had already changed into your regular trousers and just put on your bra when you came to regret your decision. 

“What the kriff do you think you’re doing?”, Wolffe asked, his tone mostly shocked, though there was an emotion in there you couldn’t quite decipher. 

“What does it look like? I’m changing.” 

You had previously had your back turned to Wolffe, but his question, or rather the way in which he asked, gave you the confidence boost needed to turn around and face him. 

“Would you rather I went out in my pyjama?” 

This trip really was proving to be most unusual, since Wolffe seemed to be speechless. 

“Of course not”, he finally said, though his voice did sound a bit off. “But you could have asked me to leave.” 

By now you really didn’t know where your confidence was coming from, but as if an autopilot you stepped closer to him, close enough to see the way his eyes, as well as his pupils, widened. 

“Maybe I didn’t want you to leave.” 

It was a bold statement, and maybe not entirely true, but it seemed to do the trick, since a smirk found its way to Wolffe’s lips. His eyes, previously focused on your eyes, flitted down to your chest for a moment before going back up again. 

“Then what is it you wanted me to do?”, he asked. “What do you want?” A clear challenge to either back down or take a leap. A challenge you shouldn’t accept, but found yourself really wanting to. 

“I want you to be here, with me. I want you to be with me wherever I go. I want you next to me in bed when I go to sleep at night and when I wake up the next morning. I want you to always look at me the way you’re doing right now. I want you to touch me and kiss me and make me yours. Maker, Wolffe, I want you!” 

The words were out of your mouth without thinking. Just like that, you had voiced every thought running through your brain, made yourself vulnerable to Wolffe’s reaction, whatever it might be. Though you had never expected it to be an arm, already covered in plastoid, to wrap around your waist and a hand, warm and steady, on the back of your neck.   

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that”, he mumbled before crashing his lips against yours. 

Though you didn’t have much experience, you knew that this was what a kiss was supposed to be. It was not a clashing of teeth, like your first kiss, nor hesitant and barely there, like your second, but a perfect mixture. Wolffe wasn’t rough, though there was just enough force to tell you that he could be if that’s what you wanted. His lips worked against yours as if they were made to, teeth softly grazing your bottom lip a few times before biting down. He nibbled on your lip, then caressed it with his tongue before giving the same treatment to your top lip. Some time during the kiss your hands had found their way into his hair, pulling it and pulling him closer at the same time, finally feeling the soft strands between your fingers and causing Wolffe to moan at the sensation. By the time his tongue made its way into your mouth you could have sworn that your legs were made of jelly, that you had moved on to whatever came after this life, that this was a dream. 

Even when Wolffe pulled away to catch his breath you didn’t dare to open your eyes, afraid of the reality you would find if you did. 

You heard Wolffe’s low chuckle before his lips were on you again. This time he gently kissed your cheeks, the corners of your lips, before making his way down. He spread small bites on your jaw and then followed his teeth with his tongue, soothing the slight sting. Though it was a spot high up on your neck, just beneath your jaw, that finally got a reaction from you. You tightened your grip on his hair as his lips ghosted over the spot and moaned when they pressed harder. 

“So needy”, Wolffe chuckled.

All you did to reply was pull his head up again for another kiss, one that was faster and more heated than the last. Though as soon as you pulled away his lips found their way to the same spot again. He began to suck while at the same time pulling you back to the bed. You wondered how he had enough sense to sit down and pull you into his lap, all your thinking had abandoned you the moment his lips first met yours. 

“Wolffe, I - kriff, stop -”, you panted. 

As soon as you said the word he pulled away, though his hands still had a grip on you, it loosened and he looked at you with nothing but love and lust in his eyes. 

“What is it, mesh’la?” 

For a moment you leaned your forehead against his shoulder before straightening up again and looking at him. 

“As much as I’d love for you to leave hickeys all over, we both know that you can’t. No one can know this ever happened”, you told him, making sure to put just enough authority in your voice to make him take you seriously. 

A sly grin was on his lips as soon as the words left your mouth. 

“I know, cyare”, he reassured you. He leaned closer again, though this time his lips didn’t move to your neck, but to your ear. “But later I’ll mark you in places where no one but me will see.” 

The thought alone send shivers down your spine and heat to your core, but it also placed a smile on your face. 

“Looking forward to it”, you said and placed a quick peck on his lips. Though you should have known that Wolffe wouldn’t leave it at that. He pulled you closer once again, the hand on your waist now moving upwards and to the front until it cupped your breast. Gently, in stark contrast to the way he bit down on your lip, he squeezed and massaged in before moving on to the other one. 

Another moan escaped your lips, this one even louder. 

“Careful, we don’t want anyone to hear you, do we?” 

You were about to nod in agreement when an idea popped into your head. 

“I bet hearing me would make the Gonchee really believe that we’re married.” 

Wolffe chuckled as he once again moved his hands to your waist. 

“I think they already believe us, cyare.” 

-------

It had taken the two of you a while to finally separate and make yourselves look presentable, and only when you heard Sinker calling for the last men to hurry up did you finally leave the hut. 

Now, on your way back to the ship, the two of you were finally together again after you had talked to Plo Koon and Wolffe to the other clones for a while. 

“You know, I’m really glad it was you I was fake married to”, you confessed in a whisper. 

Wolffe’s hand brushed against yours for a second while he chuckled. 

“You know, maybe one day we can scratch the ‘fake’.” 

He saw the surprise in your eyes as you looked up to him. Truth be told, he hadn’t meant to say that in that moment, but he knew he wanted it to be true. Some day, when the war was over, if you would still want him by your side by then. 

“I’d like that. I’d like that very much”, you said with a smile. “But first, I think there’s something else we need to do, once we have some time and privacy.” 

Wolffe knew exactly what you were talking about, and though he couldn’t wait to feel you, to hear you and touch you again, he also couldn’t wait for the day he would get to call you his wife for real. Maybe, after such a long time of denying his feelings and then refusing to act on them, this trip to the Gonchee village and pretending to be married had been good for something after all. 

I tried to put a little bit of everything (and by ‘everything’ I mean some of my favourite tropes) into this story, I hope you enjoyed it. 

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. <3