#snippet hours

[starlightvld]

Up in Smoke

(Also on AO3)

The first time Ghost rips the cigarette from Soap's mouth, drops it on the ground, and stomps on it as he passes by, Soap is too stunned to say anything for a full ten seconds. They've only been working together consistently for a couple of missions, and even as his superior officer, the audacity of the action floors him.

By the time his brain restarts, Ghost is long gone.

--

The second time Ghost steals Soap's cigarette, he bursts out in a string of Scottish curses and tackles Ghost from behind before the wanker can drop it on the ground. An impromptu sparring match ensues, fists and curses flying. 

Afterward, he doesn't feel much like a cigarette anymore — not with the split lip, anyway. Besides, the buzzing under his skin that usually drives him to smoke is just... gone.

Price catches wind of the incident, of course, and calls them into his office a few hours later. By that time Soap has calmed down enough to be... maybe not okay with it, but at least able to see the humor. 

"What's this about you muppets scuffling by the smoking area?"

"Just a little sparring to blow off steam," Soap says.

"Ghost?"

"Nothin' to worry about, Captain."

"No? I've got one soldier who looks like he just got back from a bar fight, and the other..." He squints at Ghost. "He get a hit in on you, too?"

"Yeah," Ghost replies in that deadpan tone of his. "Coupla black eyes."

It's a joke. 

Ghost is telling a joke. And it's objectively not funny. It's not. But Soap bursts into hysterical laughter all the same. 

The corners of Ghost's blacked-out eyes crinkle. 

Price rubs his temples before dropping his hand on his desk. Soap presses his lips together to contain his laughter.

"Sparring happens in the gym. I'm sure you know the place. It's where we have things like mats and gloves. I catch you two bare-knuckle fighting again, and you will regret it."

And it's enough to sober Soap up. He avoids Ghost as he ducks away to catch dinner.

--

The third time... well, no. He supposes that's really the fourth time. 

Because the actual third time, Soap had come back from a shit mission where everything went wrong. Intel was faulty, exfil was delayed, and people under his command died. It didn't happen as often in SAS as it had in the regulars — the soldiers here were well-trained and hard to kill — but that made it all the worse. 

When Ghost tried to pluck the cigarette from his mouth, Soap growled. 

"Back the fuck up, Lt. Or Price is gonna be disappointed in both of us."

Ghost paused, and their eyes met. Slowly, Ghost lowered his hand. 

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Fuck no."

"Thank God."

Soap didn't have it in him to even huff a laugh. He took a long drag and blew the smoke away from Ghost as a peace offering.

To his surprise, Ghost didn't leave. He spun around and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. They stood there together, utterly silent, as Soap let the heat and sting in his lungs soothe the beast inside that wanted to rip the world apart.

When he was done, though, he was surprised to find he didn't want another. Usually after shit missions, he'd stand there and smoke half a pack before his hands would stop shaking.

He finally met Ghost's eyes. The man quirked a barely visible brow.

"S'pose we should take it to the mats this time?"

Ghost pushed off the building and started walking. Soap followed like a lost child looking for a way home. 

--

The fourth time is in Chicago. His hands are shaking not from losing soldiers but from almost losing his own life. The cigarette trembles in his grip as he stands outside the bar, the biting wind turning his fingers and probably his lips blue. He lifts it to his mouth, inhaling deep—

And then it's gone.

The whine that bubbles up from his gut and bursts from his throat is nothing short of humiliating. But God. God. He needs it.

"Not now. Please, Ghost."

"Why?"

Ghost hasn't thrown the cigarette down. Yet. He cocks his head to the side and gives Soap a long look. Soap can only tremble from the cold and a need that goes deeper than a simple hit of nicotine.

"I just... I need it."

The cigarette drops to the ground, but Soap doesn't have time to lament the loss before that same hand is curling around Soap's neck and pulling him into a fucking massive chest. The other arm comes around Soap's shoulders and...

Ghost just stands there, holding him. And Soap can't help melting into the warmth and solidity of the man who saved his life just hours ago. He dares to curl in deeper. To raise his hands and clutch at Ghost's jacket. To let a few, silent tears escape his tight control.

Finally, his muscles relax. Ghost must feel it, because he turns and leads Soap back toward the bar.

"Why do ye even care?" Soap mumbles from his spot tucked into Ghost's side.

"Because those things'll kill ya."

Soap supposes the "I like you alive" is implied at this point.

--

Soap loses count after Chicago. He gets stretches of days when Ghost is on a solo op or out with one of the other operators when he can smoke in peace. So he does.

At first.

He's been hooked since he was a rebellious teen trying to make his mark on the world. He's tried to quit multiple times, but it never seems to stick. The first bad mission or adrenaline-filled near miss and he's back at whatever smoking spot he can find, puffing away.

He finds himself trying to cut back, though, even when Ghost is away.

Any time Ghost is on base, all bets are off. In addition to darting by and making a grab for it or sneaking up behind him and flicking it out of his hands, Ghost has gotten more creative. Sometimes Soap will pull out a cigarette only to find he's "lost" his lighter. Sometimes the cigarettes themselves go missing — he clutches his chest and mourns all that wasted money whenever a whole pack disappears. 

He supposes it's all just going up in smoke anyway, though.

He should be angry. But in truth, it's almost a relief to hand over the reins to Ghost. To let the man help him by annoying the shit out of him until he wants to give up on it entirely.

Which is definitely the point. Ghost has made that perfectly clear.

So, whenever he gets the urge to calm his racing thoughts or overactive mind with a cigarette, he finds Ghost and annoys him instead. They talk, or spar, or simply sit in silence together, doing their own thing. Ghost doesn't often touch him — their moment in Chicago is still the closest Soap's ever gotten to the elusive Ghost — but he also doesn't push Soap away when he slumps into Ghost's side after a hard day or leans over his back when he's sitting at the table in the 141's common area on base.

The urge doesn't go away, of course. And sometimes, when things get really bad, Ghost will just sit or stand with him like he did the third time. Still, he finds himself smoking less and hanging out with Ghost more.

--

The last time Ghost steals a cigarette from Soap, he simply stands beside Soap and holds out his hand. Soap immediately knows something has gone terribly wrong. Still, he's too invested in the game now to not hand the cigarette over.

He nearly keels over when Ghost pulls up his mask and takes a long, hard drag. Soap watches in fascination as his cheeks hollow, his neck muscles strain, his lips curve around the paper. It's erotic in a way he really shouldn't be thinking about in regards to his emotionally unavailable superior officer, but the knowledge hasn't stopped him yet. Since that day in Chicago — probably before if he's honest — he's only ever wanted to be closer.

Ghost coughs a little and hands the cigarette back.

"Fuck. Just as disgusting as I remember."

"Ye used to smoke, then?"

"Before I joined up, yeah. Hated it, though."

"The smell? Or—"

"Everything. The taste, the smell, the heat..." Ghost trails off, his hand rubbing over his bicep in a strangely specific way. He shakes his head and looks back at Soap. "Not your problem, Johnny. Forget about it."

Soap's hand is darting out, fingers curling into Ghost's jacket, before he's properly thought through the action. Ghost pauses before turning back. They stare in silence for a moment until—

Soap stubs out the half-burned cigarette and drops the butt in the trash. He licks his lips. Glances up at Ghost. The mask is still sitting on his nose, and Soap stares at his lips for longer than he should before pulling the pack out of his pocket and throwing it in the trash, too.

"Cannae have ye thinking I stink, can I?"

"Too late."

But Ghost's throat bobs with a hard swallow. Soap wets his lips, takes a step closer, and uncurls his fingers to slide his hand up Ghost's chest until his fingertips are resting on Ghost's shirt collar.

"I dinnae think it is."

Ghost turns and walks away. Soap closes his eyes and drops his hand, internally cursing his impulsive behavior. The scuffing of boots walking away from him is like nails on a chalk board.

Until they stop, and a gruff voice calls out, "You comin'?"

A slow smile slides across Soap's mouth. "No' yet."

A huff — exasperation? laughter? a bit of both? — before, "Better get movin' then."

And Soap has never been more glad to follow an order.

[moonlitkissing]

Whimpery men, gimme

[varpusvaras]

fully inspired by this post by @rooksunday. Fox can never have a calm day, can he?

Cody is already in the process of ripping his hair out when Fox runs in.

Quite literally runs. It is for the mere laws of physics that he hadn't gone through the door, though Cody thinks that it had been really close to happening anyway with how fast Fox barges in.

"Cody!" Fox yells. Very loudly, even though he is already at Cody's desk, almost going through it too. He slams his hands on the edge of the desk to stop himself, and he almost careens over the desk with the sudden stop. He manages to stop before it, but is now bent halfway over the desk, and is right at Cody's face. "Cody!"

"I heard you the first time", Cody says, grimacing at the volume. "What is it?"

Perhaps he should be worried. Fox looks like he is going to explode at any second, with his eyes wide and his breathing erratic. His new, nice clothes are very ruffled, most likely from running, and his fancy new cape is only partially clasped. It is not a state Cody has ever seen Fox. His meticulous, top-of-his-class brother, who always had even the seams of clothes in place.

"How did this happen?" Fox asks. "How?"

Alright, he should be worried. Fox is never cryptid. Always blunt and to the point, sometimes even too much, the little prick.

"How did what happen?" Cody asks. He is up from his chair now, and making it to the other side of the desk. "Fox, breathe a little."

Fox does breathe. He takes in a deep gulp of air, and looks at Cody like Cody is the one asking stupid and cryptid questions.

"The marriage!" Fox yells. "How did it happen?"

Now Cody is even more confused and concerned. Is there something wrong? The new Chancellor had seemed so nice, and Fox had been friendly with him until now. Had it all been a ruse? Had Cody, while being overwhelmed with everything, managed to get his little brother married to some kind of monster, who had only now revealed his true colours?

No, that would not stand. Cody needs to know exactly what's going on, right now.

"Fox", Cody grabs him by the shoulders. "What is going on? Are you alright?"

Fox doesn't look hurt, thank the gods, but he is still out of breath and looking at Cody with his eyes blown huge. Then again, they had all been trained to be able to sustain various injuries, so Cody would have to make sure-

Fox blinks, and then laughs, borderline hysterically.

"Am I alright?" He asks. "Am I alright? No! No, I am not! And I need you to answer my question! How did this happen? How did this whole disaster even go through?"

Cody tries not to be frustrated at not getting any answers out of Fox. He breathes in deep himself. He needs to stay calm, since Fox, for the first time ever, is not.

"I'm sorry", he says. "For putting you through it. I never should've. I-"

Fox grabs him by the shoulders as well, almost knocking Cody's hands away.

"Shut the hell up", he is suddenly snarling. "I don't care, I just need to know who authorised it."

"I did." Cody is...more confused about what is going on, now. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologising", Fox says. "Who else? Who else was approving with this?"

"The Chancellor and the Queen of Alderaan", Cody answers. The Chancellor, of course, Cody had done his negotiations with the man, but he had heard that the Queen had to authorise the whole marriage as well. It had sounded logical, as the Chancellor had been the former Senator of Alderaan, and thus still representing the whole system as well-

Fox starts laughing again. He lets go off Cody and puts his head in his hands, which makes the laughing sound more like he is crying.

"Fox", Cody shakes him a little. "Fox'ika. What's wrong?"

"The Queen of Alderaan authorised the marriage between me and the Chancellor", Fox mumbles against his hands.

"Yes?" Cody is seriously starting to feel like he has missed something big.

"The Queen of Alderaan", Fox repeats, "authorised my marriage with Chancellor Organa of Alderaan."

"Yes." Cody needs to go to his files and look through them again-

"Her Majesty", Fox says, "Queen Breha Organa of Alderaan, authorised me to marry her husband."

Cody stares.

Fox lifts his head from his hands a bit to look at Cody.

"I need a drink", he says.

Cody nods. He needs a drink too.

He lets Fox sit on the comfier chair and takes up the other one for himself, after he has fetched a nice bottle of some bright red liquour from his cabinet. A gift, for the new leader of the Vode.

The label tells him it's Alderaanian liquour.

Cody pours Fox a full glass, and then hides the bottle.

[overtake]

Save a Horse | 11,425 words

divorced dosh, endgame maxiel, but they have a threesome about it first (there is about 7k of plot, but you can just skip to the end if you're here for the moshiel threesome of it all)

It's a good hour. The best hour, maybe. Daniel doesn’t bother paying the slightest attention to the lessons. He’s too busy telling Max elaborate, fake backstories about each of the horses. They’re halfway through a really bad bit about Olympic horse diving when a throat clears in front of them. “The lesson ended ten minutes ago, so I thought you might like your daughter back,” Josh says drily, but he’s clearly fighting back a knowing smirk. Max and Daniel are sitting thigh-to-thigh on the bench, knees knocking together every time Daniel does the loud laugh that pulls his handsome nose up into a minuscule crinkle. Their faces are closer together than is strictly necessary. Max could probably count every individual eyelash framing Daniel’s warm brown eyes. “Sorry,” Max says, reluctantly pulling back. Josh offers Max his hand and tugs him up like Max weighs nothing, biceps flexing the whole way. He lets his hand linger the same way he did with their handshake: short enough for plausible deniability, but long enough to make Max wonder.

[prince-liest]

Vox's priorities are SO intact.

[wikitpowers]

[foxaoxarts]

IT'S BEEN 84 YEARS- *EXPLODES*

[atlaserine]

Just your average supervillain being a mother hen

It's been two weeks, two long weeks of Hero being locked in that cell. Isolated from the outside world, with only the sound of her own thoughts to keep her company. The room is cold and cramped, and there's not much to do except lie on the old bed and wait for the sound of the door opening to signal someone's arrival.

The door swings open, and Villain walks in. He's flanked by two guards, their expressions cold and aloof as usual. He steps inside, his eyes fixed on Hero's sleeping form on the bed.

Villain walks over to the bed, looking down at her silent form. He hated how Hero still looked pretty damn beautiful when she was asleep. The way her chest rises and falls with each breath, the way her hair is strewn messily over her face, and the way her lips are slightly parted, just begging to be kissed-

...

No, stop Villain thought, shaking his head slightly. He should hate her, should just...end her right here.

...

He didn't realize his own hand reaching out and running his fingers through her hair until he felt the soft strands in between his fingers, pushing the messy locks away from her face. He glances down at her, his expression a mixture of anger, curiosity and..a twisted kind of affection.

Villain glances back at the guards, who were watching from the doorway. He motions for them to leave and they comply, closing the door and leaving him alone with her.

Slowly, Villain sat down on the edge of the bed, watching her sleep. He knew he should be angry with her, she was a pain in the ass. And an annoying one at that..but he can't help but feel a pang of longing whenever he looks at her.

He reaches out and touches her cheek gently. "I should hate you, love. I should hate every inch of you. But no matter how hard I try, I just can't bring myself to do it". Though, his eyes widen in surprise as he registers the heat of her skin, pulling his hand back. Villain then presses the back of his hand against her forehead, feeling the fever that's coursing through her body like wildfire.

Villain mentally cursed at himself, "Damn it Hero, you're burning up" , his voice filled with a mix of worry and anger. Villain couldnt ignore the concern that's starting to build up within him. Hero might have ruined half of his plan, been nothing but a torn to his side but he'd be dammed if he was going to let her die of a fever.

He stood up, hurrying out of the cell and barking orders at the guards. "Get a medic in here, now"

The guards nod, rushing off to do as they're ordered. While Villain waits for the medic to arrive, he paces back and forth, his mind racing with worry and anger. Silently praying that she'll be alright.. No, she will be alright. He won't have the city's best hero die in his cell from a fucking cold.

After what felt like eternity (which was only five minutes) , the medic arrives. Villain scoffs "Took you long enough", his tone cold and firm. The medic just rolled his eyes and immediately begins to assess the sleeping Hero's condition. He takes her temperature, checks her pulse, and inspects her for any visible signs of injury or illness.

"She's got a high fever, sir. It seems like she's come down with a serious infection of some kind. Do you know if she's eaten anything unusual lately? Or if she's come in contact with any toxic substances?" The medic asks.

"I...I'm not sure" Villain spoke, a bit quieter from before.

"..She's been locked up in that cell for weeks now, and I haven't exactly been the one taking care of her." Villain admits with a sigh, his tone tinged with guilt.

The medic raised his brows, "Well, that would explain it. Being locked up in a small, cramped cell like this without proper sanitation or medical care, it's no wonder she's come down with an infection."

Villain clenches his fists, his expression turning dark at the medic's words. He was mad..at..himself. He should have known better, he should have taken better care of Hero, even if she was his prisoner.

"She needs proper treatment, sir. Antibiotics, fluids, and a comfortable place to rest. She won't get better if she remains here." The medic spoke again which made Villain sighs the second time, more frustrated from the last knowing Medic was right.

"Very well." Villain finally says grudgingly, he turned towards some of his henchmen. "Get her out of this cell and to the infirmary. Treat her properly." He looks down at Heros unconscious form again, furrowing his brows. He didn't want to care, he didn't want to show any kind of weakness. But seeing her like this, weak and vulnerable, it was tough for him to keep up the cold and uncaring facade he usually wore.

The medic nods and starts to arrange for Hero to be moved to the infirmary with the other henchmen. Once Hero is moved to the infirmary, the medic quickly gets to work. He administers antibiotics via IV, sets up a saline drip to rehydrate her, and even hooks her up to a monitor to keep a close eye on her vital signs.

Finally, Hero is settled in a soft bed with a comfortable pillow and warm blankets. The medic turns to Villain, who has been watching the whole time from a corner of the room. "She should start feeling better soon, sir. The antibiotics will take care of the infection and the fluids will help with hydration. Just give it some time and she should be fine." He smiled.

Villain only nodded, his expression still tight and controlled. He steps closer to the bed, looking down at Hero's unconscious form. Noticing the way her hair is spread out on the pillow, the paleness of her face, the soft rise and fall of her chest as she breaths.

Villain was sure his body was acting on its own again as he reached out and hesitantly places his hand over hers. It was an unconscious gesture, one he didn't even realize he was doing. He stands there for a moment, feeling the warmth of her skin and the steady beat of her pulse beneath his fingertips. It was a physical reminder that Hero was still alive, still here, despite everything that had happened between them.

Villain notices the weak pulse and frowns, concerned. "Medic, her pulse is weak. Is that normal?". Medic looks over Hero's vitals on the monitor and nods, "Yes, it's normal. She's been sick for a long time, sir. Her body is weak and she's lost a lot of weight. It's expected for her pulse to be weak at this point." Villain nods, still looking at Hero's unconscious form with a furrowed brow. It was unnerving to see her like this, so still and fragile. Unlike the bravado and the winning smile she always gave him to get under his skin. Her godawful jokes and her...careless laughter. He couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt and regret. Despite everything, he still cared for her, more than he wanted to admit.

The medic noticed Villain's stark change of demeanor. He raised his brows before speaking "I'll check on her regularly to make sure she's improving. Besides...you look like a mother hen worrying too much for a fever" He teased.

Villain groans before glaring at Medic. "You're lucky I need you right now, or else I woudve cut your head off and hang it in my office for saying that" He let's go off Hero's hand before walking to the door, he stopped. Turning slightly back at Medic, his eyes dark with the promise of a threat "if I see you slacking off, I won't hesitate to do good with my words" He spoke, before stepping out.

[aurorawritestoescape]

I wrote a fluffy pwp with post outbreak Joel Miller. A little smutty snippet’s under the cut.

18+ mdni smut

“Don’t be shy, sweetheart. Wanna know I’m makin’ you feel good.”

“What if someone hears?”

As soon as those words left your lips you felt yourself gush more as the possibility of the neighbors hearing your moans burnt your core. Joel smirked, having noticed your reaction.

“Good. Wish I could let ‘em know you’re mine… claim you in front of everyone... Fuck you at the town square for everyone to see… to show them who you belong to.”

His fantasy almost pushed you over the edge.

“Would you want that?” There was a glimmer in his dark eyes.

You bit your lip, your chest heaving while your mind was feeding you the images of Joel taking you in front of the whole town. You were so turned on it hurt and you wiggled your hips in a silent plea.

Joel got your signal and his tongue returned to your pussy.

It’s here - MORNING BLISS

[fruitybashir]

I'm re reading holidate for the second time and im finding all these little notes that I left in the epub last time, and honestly i think me of the past was inspired for this one

oops, my hand slipped 😗

“Red please!” Bojan declares cheerfully as he slaps down a “+4” with a colour wheel. “And I am down to my last card.”

There’s a collective groan around the table and Bojan bounces up and down on the couch next to Kris, a big, happy grin on his face. Kris is fuming. He stares down at his fan of cards. Lots of green, some yellow, not a single red one. He grinds his teeth and draws another card.

“Aw, no reds? I’m sorry bejbi,” Bojan coos and presses a quick peck to his cheek. Kris feels like he might actually start biting.

Jure reluctantly lays down a red four, Jan follows with a red zero, defeat already painted on his face. Nace hesitates for a second, then a smile spreads on his face and he puts down a blue zero. There’s a collective Ooooh around the table and Kris feels a sense of righteous satisfaction that almost borders on concerning.

He turns to look at Bojan, expecting to see disappointment, annoyance even at having his win stolen from him for at least one more round, but instead what he sees is a wide grin, teeth shining, eyes wide. Victorious. Oh no.

Bojan lays down a blue six.

“Uno!”

Everyone tosses their cards on the table in frustration while Bojan giggles happily, already shuffling the cards for another round. Jure lights himself another cigarette, offering another to Jan. Jan puts it between his lips with an appreciative noise, then presses it against Jure’s to light it as well.

“I’m out,” Kris grumbles and slumps back into the couch. Jan shoots him a sympathetic look and bumps his foot under the coffee table. Kris’ patience for losing to Bojan usually doesn't last longer than five or six rounds.

“How did you even– but you asked for red.” Nace stammers, staring down at Bojan's blue six as if it held the answers. Bojan shrugs.

“I'm just that good,” he grins. Kris groans.

“You're so full of yourself.”

Jan pats Nace's thigh in consolation. “You did the best you could.” He takes a drag of his cigarette, then leans in and lets the smoke ghost over Nace's lips as he speaks. “I'm still proud of you.”

Kris wrinkles his nose as he watches them unashamedly make out right in front of all of them. Jure deals out new stacks of cards as if he doesn't even see them.

“Kris, you sure you're out?”

“Yeah, I need a break.” Kris says and Jure nods, skips his spot as he hands out the cards.

“You can be my cheerleader,” Bojan suggests, leaning close into Kris and with a giddy uplift to his voice that makes Kris want to drag him home, push his face into the pillows and shut him up. He takes a deep breath.

“Sure,” he says and turns to Bojan with the brightest fake smile he can manage. “Because you definitely need cheering on to win.”

“If I win the next game for you,” Bojan starts and does an unfortunately very good job at looking at Kris sweetly from under his eyelashes. “Do I get to kiss the cheerleader?”

Kris flexes his jaw.

“You know what?” he smiles and he rests his elbow on the backrest of the couch, reaches up to tuck a strand of Bojan's hair behind his ear. “If you win the next game, I'll wear the blue set tonight.”

There's a choking sound from the other side of the coffee table, then coughing as Jan and Nace's little shotgunning session comes to an abrupt end. Jure whistles.

Bojan's face lights up like the sun.

“Easy!” he declares, already reaching for his new stack of cards. “Fastest win of my Uno career.”

Jan shoots Kris a disbelieving look, deep betrayal written on his face. Kris just shrugs. He has a plan.

Kris leaves his arm on the back of the couch as the rest of the guys start the next round. He traces his fingers along the neck of Bojan’s shirt, just barely grazing the skin enough to cause a light shiver.

He lets Bojan enjoy his feeling of safety for two turns, then he lets his fingers wander up into Bojan’s hair. He twirls a few strands around his fingers, toys with them, then runs his fingers down again, along the side of Bojan’s neck and over his collarbones.

“Kris…” Bojan mumbles and his shoulder twitches, trying to shrug off Kris. He puts down a red seven, concentrating on the cards in his hands and closely watching what colours the others follow up with.

Kris has no intention of letting up anytime soon. He’s barely even started. He dips his hand under the hem of Bojan’s shirt, pressing his palm flat against the other’s chest and letting his fingertips brush over the dusting of chest hair there. Bojan sighs, but other than that, shows impressive restraint. He counters Nace’s yellow zero with a green one. Kris moves in closer.

He presses a kiss into Bojan’s hair, then brings his hand up further a little, to the base of Bojan’s neck. He doesn’t press down, but Bojan still tenses against him, and Kris can feel him swallow under his fingers. Bojan has to draw two cards.

Jan raises his eyebrow at Kris across the table, lips twitching with a barely suppressed smile. He’s definitely figured it out by now.

Kris grins, and draws his hand back. Bojan instantly lets out a breath that he probably wasn’t even aware he was holding, and Kris thinks it’s almost a little cute that he thinks he’s safe now. He runs his fingertips over Bojan’s back, along his spine and down, until he can lift up the other’s shirt enough to touch Bojan’s skin again.

“Kris,” Bojan makes, again, and there is a warning in there, but Kris knows that tone well. He leans down to press a kiss to Bojan’s neck. Bojan shivers. He hesitates, then places a green five.

Kris runs his fingers along the waistband of Bojan’s sweatpants to his sides, let’s his fingertips dance up and down, drawing patterns over the skin and he feels Bojan’s muscles twitch under his touch, his breath hitch when Kris traces over a spot that he knows drives Bojan crazy.

“Bojan?” Jure asks and there is audible amusement in his voice. “It’s your turn.”

“Huh?” Bojan startles, then he suddenly sits up straighter, letting out an annoyed noise as he rolls his shoulders to get Kris’ mouth off his neck. There’s a snort from Nace as Bojan places his “Skip turn” card and Kris is sure that if he could see Bojan’s face right now, he would find that the other is blushing.

He keeps his hand on Bojan’s side for another turn, showing at least a little bit of mercy before he brings his hand back around, rests his fingers against the base of Bojan’s spine. He lets his eyes wander over the table. Jan is only holding two cards now. Bojan is still holding four.

Kris dips his fingers under the waistband of Bojan’s pants, then the waistband of his briefs. Bojan tenses. Kris doesn’t stop. He pushes down a little further, his middle finger now resting over the dip of Bojan’s ass.

“One card left.” Jan announces on his turn.

“What- How?” Bojan stares down at his own cards, his finger worrying the corner of a “+2” card he’s holding. He’s trying so hard to stay focussed. Kris dips his middle finger between Bojan’s cheeks and Bojan straightens his back like he’s got hit by lightning. When Kris keeps shooting innocent looks around the table, he can almost see the pity on Nace’s face when the other places down a red “+2”.

Kris’s finger finds Bojan’s hole and Bojan’s breath hitches. He shivers. Kris pushes down, just lightly, but it’s enough for a small noise to escape Bojan’s throat, quiet enough that Kris is sure he’s the only one to hear it. Bojan draws two cards. Kris grins victorious.

Jure places a red four, Jan follows with a red zero.

“Uno!” he declares and the table cheers. Kris pulls back his hand and leans back on the sofa, away from Bojan.

Bojan gapes at Jan’s last card on the stack, as if they had somehow personally betrayed him. His head flies around to glare at Kris.

“You-” he starts and Kris shrugs.

“Well, that’s a bummer,” Kris says, purposely nonchalant. “I always thought the blue one really compliments my eyes.”

[wikiangela]

tease tidbit tuesday/wip wednesday

tagged by @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @tizniz @diazsdimples @dangerpronebuddie @spotsandsocks @exhuastedpigeon @underwaterninja13 - tagging y'all back for wip wednesday 💖💖

doing two in one bc it's technically wednesday already idc lol - started a new wip I mentioned before (inspired by this video lol) and rn I'm rewriting what I wrote yesterday bc the past two days words were not wording and I hated everything I wrote, but I think I'm happy with it now haha I hope I'll manage to write it like I want to bc it's sooo good in my head istg haha

(wasn't gonna post until i have more but i need validation before i drive myself crazy over this lol)

___

It started as a random idea, more like a throwaway thought, really. Tommy was just checking the weather for the next few days – his hot pilot boyfriend always likes to be prepared – while they were hanging out, and he casually mentioned that “it’s gonna be nice on Saturday, perfect barbecue weather,” which got Buck to mention how they often have family barbecues at Bobby and Athena’s. Somehow, the conversation spiraled, and Buck’s not sure who threw out a more concrete idea, but here they are now, standing side by side in Tommy’s kitchen, preparing food – Buck’s currently slicing veggies for a salad, while Tommy takes care of the meat – for the barbecue where they invited way too many people than Tommy’s backyard can probably fit. It really is nice weather, the sliding door leading from the kitchen to the backyard open and letting in warm sunshine and a soft breeze that makes the air feel cooler. They work in pleasant silence, the only sound is quiet music playing from the speaker, and Buck can’t help a fond smile when he hears his boyfriend hum along, so off-key Buck’s not sure he even knows the song, but it’s still adorable.

The silence is disrupted by the doorbell ringing, and before Tommy can even move, Buck is dropping the knife on the cutting board, wiping his hands, and sprinting towards the door, shouting an “I got it!” over his shoulder. He’s followed by an echo of Tommy’s fondly amused chuckles. So he’s a little excited, sue him – they haven’t had a family day like this in a while, and there was only one he brought Tommy to, all of their schedules not so easy to align. And today his whole family will be here, including their spouses and children, and Tommy invited a couple of his friends and their families, too, and it’ll be just a big, loud, chaotic get-together that he’s hosting with his boyfriend. Buck never hosted one of these before, and he’s really enjoying it so far, and he just wants everyone to have fun.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck

@eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life

@diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @weewootruck @loveyouanyway

@spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove

@nmcggg @rogerzsteven @hippolotamus @bidisasterevankinard @giddyupbuck

@sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings

@buddieswhvre @fortheloveofbuddie @your-catfish-friend

@daffi-990 @hoodie-buck @aroeddiediaz

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

always a god never human II satoru gojo

tags: post shibuya au, alt au where satoru is cursed to be blind, fluff, argument, angst, regret

word count: 4.5k

note: I wanted to write something that could encapsulate what being human is for satoru in the best worst case scenario. some of you might love this as I do, and thank you for your support. also, I made a reference to odysseus and the cyclops so I think I got it right (I haven't read the odyssey in nearly 10 years). also forgive me and please correct me if I got the kikufuku part wrong. will make a part two if this comes out well (I already have it drafted).

satoru gojo had been exposed to curses for as long as he could remember. first, as a boy, then as a student in jujutsu tech, and finally as a friend and instructor to those around him; but he had never been directly cursed.

not until now.

"you may remain as the strongest, satoru gojo, but your strength will be the only thing to hold you. no one but yourself will disinter it, so don't waste your time searching for something already set as destined." he recalled.

"love will be your salvation yet damnation, for you will cry for your shortcomings and failures. no one but you will carry this burden. let it remind you of this day, of the battle in which you never, truly won."

he always wakes up in a cold sweat afterwards. with the erratic beating of his heart and the tears running down his cheeks, satoru clings to himself, pressing a hand to his heart so as to remind himself of his current position. the back of his throat feels rough like sandpaper, and he licks his lips before reaching for the glass of water he's reserved for nights like these.

he drinks nearly all of it, his heart heavy before his fingers fish for his phone by his bedside.

"hey siri," he speaks, voice hoarse, "what time is it?"

"it's 3:24am."

with an exhaled huff, he puts his phone to the side, making note to remember where it is in the morning. as he lays his head down and focuses on the feeling of blood rushing to his fingertips, arms laid out side by side and fists clenching and unclenching, he sighs.

tomorrow will be better, he tells himself, but it has to change, whispers the other.

"now listen, don't give me that look, it's serious!" your frown causes utahime, your longtime friend of 4 years to shake her hands out to grab your attention, causing you to stifle a smile from your face as you hide your lips behind your cup of tea. "I have a job proposal for you, from a friend. and I think you'd like the pay."

utahime had always been sensible on the topic of money. knowing your constant struggles as a college student and now graduate, seeking to find new sources of income to keep up with bills and student loans, the sorceress felt compassion for you, a friend of hers who has grounded and guided her through frustration after frustration; work and romance related. she's never had the luxury of normalcy to a life like yours, she knows, so doing this was in her best interest for your benefit.

she tells you she has a friend who has decided to take up reading. problem is, he's blind.

"he's not a child, though he acts like it sometimes, but he's not some prune old man either. he's around your age so I'm sure talking to him along with your patience won't be an issue."

besides the generous pay for your time, 6 hours a week for $500 as a starting salary, there was something about this arrangement that left you with a good feeling in your heart. and it wasn't because your client was blind, no. it was the sheer opportunity for growth, in doing something you loved and doing something someone wanted to partake in. so on the day of your arrival you dress your best, hair neatly combed with a pearl diadem and academia as your outfit inspiration for the occasion. "he lives in a secluded home," you recall utahime's words, "up on a hill, or cliff. I don't know. it's always cloudy over there," and you can make out the home on the hill. it's quaint, and you feel thankful for having picked the clothes adequate for the weather.

it surely looked like it was going to rain, so you quicken your pace until you're at the front door, standing still as you swallow the lump at the back of your throat. you were no psychic, but the way your heart churned and palpitated let you know something was about to change your life forever.

"you must be the girl utahime sent, I'm satoru. please step inside," you absentmindedly take in the smile he gives you, taking no answer from you before he opens the door to let you in. he wears a pair of black glasses, contrasting to his snowy hair and porcelain skin. wearing casual loungewear neither of you dare to touch one another in the sense of exchanging a handshake out of respect, or fear. it all feels formal, too formal as if this were a job interview or more.

"it's quite cold outside, isn't it?" after you step inside and change into a pair of slippers that are slightly too big for you, satoru shows you to where you would read to him.

he makes conversation rather well, you find, but there is slight awkwardness in the interactions but not in the way he moves around the house. as he moves up the stairs, he has a hand against the wall as he takes each step with precision, knowing when and where to step. you're fairly quiet, but polite in your conversation with him, until you reach the space he calls his 'study' which is just a room with a large window accompanied by books and belongings.

"you're probably wondering how on earth a blind guy has a clean place, right? well to answer your question, housekeeping."

"I wasn't thinking about that," you answer softly biting the inside of your cheek, "I was just admiring the window."

there's a momentary silence between the two of you. either satoru is surprised by your reply, unrelated to his blindness, or you have struck a sensitive chord, however, his nod makes you think otherwise.

"it is. before I was blind, I'd come here as a teen. house is mine, so even the doors are nice in here." and when he hears you agree, he smiles. "anyways, I'm sure utahime told you the basics about this, yeah?"

"yes."

"great. there's a book on that table to your right. you can start reading that one." as he walks, he takes a seat on a chair across from you. he patiently waits until you sit down again to ask, "before we start, would you like some water?"

"yeah," you breathe, "that'd be great actually."

"there's a few water bottles under the table next to you," he informs, making himself comfortable on the chair, limbs spreading comfortably as you take out a water bottle and glance at the book in your lap.

"this book is about malaysia," you read the title, "is that somewhere you'd like to visit one day?"

"maybe," he says, "it was from a friend of mine."

"did he go to malaysia?"

there's a long silence in between the innocence your question and his answer.

"he did," he answers slowly. "it was always a dream of his to go, so that's why I've kept the book." you don't press him further, instead nodding and suggesting on starting.

when you open the book, you don't miss the elegant cursive writing at the top right of the page.

n. kento

you frequent satoru's home every monday, wednesday, and friday for 3 hours every day. the pay is more than what you expect the first week, $750, but you wonder how this man can easily afford your services.

the bigger question, is how can he live alone in such a home like that? does he ever get hurt? what does he do then?

"yeah, I live here by myself." he answers your question on the third week of your employment. "it's pretty neat though. I don't have to worry about anyone misplacing anything I leave, you know?" his attempt at a joke makes you chuckle and walk up the steps behind him to his study. "are we reading something new today?"

"there's something different I want to try," he tells you, "last night, on the news, I heard there was a feud over some meso-american statue. something to do with jade material being one of the few in existence. I know this is beyond what we agreed, but do you think you can find an article on it?" you nod, affirming his request.

"great!" he smiles, relieved, "my laptop is on the desk. feel free to use it."

you wanted to say that was the last time he asked you for a favor like that, but it was you who fueled his interest. that day, you ended up finding 4 articles, and playing 2 videos about the subject. and as a result, both you and satoru engaged in related conversation until the end of your assigned time.

every few days, satoru would inform you on something (practically asking) and you'd reply by responding, researching the questions he ached to know. it went such way that you were reading him books less and less and more article, media coverage, and conversation.

"did you hear about the experiment trials being conducted by this company called oceangate?" satoru asks, interest laced in his voice, "they're thinking about sending people to view the titanic shipwreck."

and quickly enough, so were you.

"yeah, I also heard about it. I couldn't help but read an article about it. apparently, they've done a few trials, but the company is independent, so I don't know how safe it is or if they have government members involved..."

one of satoru's favorite moments consist of the following.

"did you hear about the crime case that just happened last week? the one with the girl who survived the car accident."

"I did!" you answer eagerly, "I heard her stepdad was the last person to talk to her boyfriend."

"do you think he murdered him?"

"it's tough to say," you bite your bottom lip in contemplation, "I knew he didn't approve of him because he was an aspiring musician, but these texts came out saying he wrote to his brother, 'that man better stay away from my daughter or else I don't know what I'll do',""

"no way."

"and that's not even the worst part," you adjust yourself on your seat, criss cross applesauce. "they found dna remains in his car before his death, hair. right before the car accident. there's speculation they argued before..."

"the accident." satoru nods.

as the weeks progressed, so did your conversations with satoru. the two of you had a knack for being adaptable in your interactions with one another. you could reach a book for an hour, then talk about some recent story or just spend a whole session talking, with the mention of an article or some source always being mentioned.

and satoru burned for that. with every interaction, he found himself looking forward to what else he could bring up, and so did you, even spending time of your own researching things he might be interested in learning about.

things the both of you turned out interested learning about.

"here," satoru could feel the warmth emanate from your body (or his) as you sat next to him, your body scooting closer to his, "hold your hands, yeah, like that," placing a small statue, no bigger than the size of a wine bottle, satoru freezes slightly as you guide his fingers to glide along the edges of the statue.

"my friend managed to get this one out of the archives," you explain, "of course, I just had to bring this to you too. can you sense the material?" the corner of satoru's lips tug upwards in acknowledgement of your excitement. it makes his heart squeeze and pulse in ways that felt familiarly unfamiliar. in a good way, of course. everything you brought in his life was good. whether he could see it or not, you were always so welcoming and sweet.

"is this... legal?" he out of everyone finds himself whispering. as if the authorities could be outside his door. you giggle.

"yes," you smile, "I asked my friend if she could let me borrow this for the day, to take 'pictures'." you chuckle, "obviously that's not what we're doing, is it?" a warmth follows satoru's cheeks as he shakes his head and you smile. "this mesoamerican statue is the same material as the one we read the other week, remember?"

we, satoru's words echo in his head as he nods. "y-yeah. thank you for doing this, you know."

"of course," you smile kindly, "I figured, out of everyone who could be here, I figured you deserve this."

deserve.

"open your hands for me, satoru." your soft voice speaks as you cup his hands, the ocean waves crash from afar. after much convincing, you managed to pull satoru out of his comfort zone. what's the point of going to the ocean if I can't see it? he asks.

well, what's the point of me reading to you and us interacting if you can't see me? you counter. and he realizes you've won.

he can smell the saltwater, can feel the wind blow through his hair and let his feet sink into the sand, but that's not what makes his heart skip a beat. your hands shouldn't feel this soft, he thinks. the way you allow grains of sand to fall in his hands feel otherworldly, holy. the way he senses you smile at him and place a shell on his palm, letting him trace the surface with his finger as you guide him makes him feel as the most enlightened man alive.

he can sense you're close, not by strands of your hair slapping his cheek as the wind blows, but by the warmth of your body. suddenly, he does not feel he is at the beach, but with the beach guiding her hands with his and feeling the warmth of what he feels is your smile.

he remains silent, you're looking at him, and he's looking at you underneath his shades. he's frozen. waiting for you to say something, to break this off as if this would never, by any of his wildest dreams, occur in any universe.

but you don't.

satoru feels his pulse quicken, breathing deepen as the point of your feet slot themselves to his, your nose barely brushes his own, causing the six eyed user to forget everything he once thought he knew of limits and boundaries. kiss me, he thinks, take me, he begs to the heavens. satoru thinks he could be captivated, deeper than any spell odysseus and his men were under at sea, but they were cursed by calypso's beauty, and he felt blessed by the touch of an angel. your touch enviable to the gods above.

when you kiss him, he feels like he just made the greatest discovery to mankind, like he's waited his whole life for this, a feeling that greatly surpasses galileo's lifelong accomplishments and napoleon's combined. no feeling, word, or sight could transcribe what it feels to have your lips slide through his, to have you softly gasp against his lips, and to have your body close to his. satoru is convinced that he has reborn, become whole by the touch of your lips which have sweetly imprinted themselves throughout everything he is.

he holds the back of your neck gently, so as to remind himself that you are here, not a dream but here with him. flesh against flesh, man and woman who share one breath.

when you both pull away, satoru feels himself begging to pull you closer, but the hands that push him from you let him know you need to breathe. and although his body cries otherwise, you speak breathlessly, a hint of a smile in your tone, "did you feel that shell? it was my favorite kind to collect growing up," and he smiles because he learns what it is to collect something as valuable as the shells, your lips.

with nearly 3 months of knowing you, there was a shift in satoru's chest one wednesday morning as you excused yourself for a call.

"...of course I don't! you think I want to live with him?" you ask, voice laced with disgust, "I won't be tied down like that again and you know it, Kiro. I'll be cursed if I have to be with someone like him again. you know I'd never stay for someone like that. It's dead weight on my shoulders, and I won't have anything but pity on him." your words, from the end of the hallway send daggers at satoru's heart.

"yes, I'm at work, what else do you want me to do? It's not like I can just fly my way to you in such a short amount of time. you should have told me..." a long pause, "yes... he's blind," another long pause, "I get paid on the 26th, but my boss won't let me work on the 25th, so you can sleep in my bed while I get home. and wear something under the covers, okay?" somewhere, somehow satoru wanted to tell himself he was not hearing things correctly, that you were still the same girl he knew to be around, but when you returned after your call, something was definitely wrong with you.

"so, how was you call?" he asks, feigning interest, "everything ok?"

"yeah, fine, thanks." you breathe, tired, opening the book in your hands, "chapter 21, the last spring."

one week later.

as much as he wanted to deny it, satoru was beginning to think you had changed. what was it? was it him? the kiss? the way he grabbed you? or have you finally had enough of these little visits that could have been masked as pity for a young man like him?

when the 26th passes, he does not ask what your plans are. as much as he wants to ask, he thinks it's not of his place to ask. is he doing the right thing? he doesn't know. it certainly doesn't ease the unpleasant feeling bubbling in his stomach.

"do you have a favorite treat?" you ask. caught off guard, he nods.

"kikufuku," he tells you, "when I was in high school, there was this elderly couple that had a kikufuku stand and they used to have the best ice cream fillings."

"I thought kikufuku was cream based?"

"It was, but not to them. their ice cream filling was one of a kind."

"when was the last time you had some?"

he laughs, "years ago. I'm pretty sure they ended up closing because the wife died, and she was the only living relative who knew how to make it."

"that's too bad."

"I know, but at least they were happy doing what they did." satoru then changes the subject, shifting the focus to a lighter topic.

on december 6th, satoru recieves a call.

"I told you, you don't have to call me sensei anymore," satoru groans, throwing a wooden sword towards yuuta, catching it flawlessly.

"why not? you've always been my sensei. or would you rather us call eachother cousins?"

"you're right," answered satoru adter a long moment, earning a laugh from his former student. "so what was it you wanted to talk about? clearly it was not to train, so what is it?"

"I just wanted to see how you're doing."

"well you could've just called..."

"you haven't trained with us in a while," yuuta sighs, "everyone. we don't really know what you're up to these days."

and he was right, but satoru would never admit it.

"what?" he asks, almost faking offense, "can't your sensei go on vacat-"

"-utahime sensei says you've been in your home a lot," he clarifies, "only few of us know. toge, panda, yuuji and I."

"what about megumi?"

"he's kind of in his own world," yuuta sighs, placing his weapon down before taking a seat next to gojo in the training room. "he knows things haven't been easy."

"you've kept an eye on him and yuuji like I asked, right?''

"to a degree," he admits, "I can't have them open up so freely because I'll always be their upperclassmen, but you... you're..."

"I get what you're trying to say." he answers flatly.

"you do?"

he nods.

"can I walk with you to your home?" yuuta asks, "there's another thing I'd like to ask, personally this time."

satoru finds himself agreeing with his younger student, what else could he do besides that? as the two walk, satoru finds himself giving advice he didn't think he could give, advising the student on what shall become of him now that he's already over age and in his own right to choose his destiny.

as he advises his pupil, satoru finds himself wondering the same for himself. he's turning a year older in 2 more days, what will become of him? what will he do? what does this mean in relation to kenjaku's damned curse? it aggravated him. upset him how everything felt so secure, almost ideal weeks ago, but now his life felt back in square one, returning to his home that he had grown used to be alo-

"surprise!"

not one, nor two, but several familiar voices called from the inside of his open, making satoru freeze in shock.

"surprise! we thought we'd surprise you sensei" panda's voice rang.

"he's right!" another voice, yuuji's appears, "we thought about making a little get together with our favorite sensei..."

"obviously someone had to plan this," satoru turned, stunned when shoko's voice came into play. "you?"

"no," she chuckles, turning to you but you quickly shake your head, reaching for utahime, "it was utahime!" you call, "she wanted to plan something nice for you."

"aww well aren't you sweet?" he grins tauntingly at utahime who can't help but send daggers your way as shoko muffles her laugh.

for the duration of the party, satoru is accompanied by his co-workers, friends, and students. he hears more about what they've done. what travels they have accomplished, and what romances some of them have experienced all while they share laughs. all while satoru searches for yours.

you stand a respectable distance away from him, deciding it would be best to let his friends and students take over since he hasn't seen them in so long. you weren't as special as they were, only having known satoru for the least amount of time, a part of you felt like a stranger. not that anyone made you feel left out, no. everyone was kind to you and even appreciative for your presence. however, you spent a whole majority of the party not talking to satoru, as if you weren't there.

when it came time to cut the cake, everyone who was an adult was nearly drunk. the students, all joyously supervised by ichiji laughed as they shared a group photo. yuuji, satoru's student mentioned something about adding the photo as his lockscreen, causing everyone to burst out laughing from ichiji's protests. everyone looked happy, with a twinkle in their eyes as the end to the party came to an end.

the students and ichiji were the first to leave, then shoko and utahime finding balance in one another, leaving you alone with satoru in his home.

"you didn't drink, huh."

"I don't really drink in social events." you shyly admit, scratching the back of your neck as satoru does not face you, looking towards the door where utahime and shoko left not long ago.

"you thought you were social?" his words take you by surprise.

"I, um.... I talked to your friends." you say, "they were very nice."

"I barely heard you."

"that's because you were probably occupied talking to the others-"

"-you didn't talk to me." he finds himself saying in annoyance.

"I didn't want to take your day away,"

"from who?"

"you."

"there's nothing to take from me."

"yes there is," you tell him. "your attention. you haven't seen your friends in-"

“they all pity me.”

“what? no they don-”

“-you’re not blind. people don’t… they don’t look at you like some pity animal, just waiting for you to fuck up.”

“you are not a pity....”

“oh yeah?” he breathes, ragged. “then why the fuck did you agree to read to a blind man?”

there was some silence, regret pooled at the back of your throat and then a shift in your weight as you stood. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. I like you, “I- I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,”

“I- are we…?”

“I don’t think we should be seeing each other,” he expresses. “not for a while,”

“a while?”

“yeah, a while.’’

“do you… want me to leave?”

“I think it’s for the best.”

“Do you want me to come back monday?”

“I don’t think so,”

when you left, satoru's jaw tightened, hands now fisted by his sides and a body so rigid one might think he were frozen in place. satoru stays like that for several moments, eyes nearing a burning sensation as he focuses on where he would imagine the door is, almost expectantly waiting for your return as if this were a dream.

but it wasn't.

and as the minutes pass, he paces his living room. hands running over his hair.

he had done wrong.

"ichiji," his voice almost broke, dry and borderline desperate. “I…” I think I fucked up, “I want you to pick up y/n. She just left my place, but she doesn’t have a car.”

"I already did," he says, "she said just that."

“Did she tell you anything?” he finds himself expecting.

“not really..."

“how did she look?”

normal? Ichiji wanted to say, didn't you just see her? but the tone in satoru’s voice confirmed that he did something to leave you so quiet after the party. 

“she was quiet,” he tells him, “...maybe she was tired from the party. you know, she organized it herself.”

“she... what?”

“yeah. utahime helped her bring the cake. she needed someone to drive while she carried the cake because she didn't trust anyone to hold it the 20 something minutes it took to get to your house. she told me she was trying to look for someone who knew how to make ice cream kikufuku and ended up finding the niece of the old owners of a shop she said you used to frequent. after long convincing, she was able to get the niece to help. I’m pretty sure she made the cake, with the help of the niece of course. she also made the dinner, and even had shoko bring in the drinks along with candles that your friend forgot to bring, — so I guess she was just tired, right?”

Satoru was speechless. unsure if it was the fact that you did so much for him or the fact that he had never heard, in his entire life, hear ichiji speak for so long with such conviction, it was everything he needed to hear.

right? the words in satoru's mind, head pounding with everything and anything relating you. and on the other side of the line stood a confused yet almost concerned ichiji.

"hello? are you still there?"

"yeah," he answered dryly, "is... is she home safe?"

"of course, I dropped her off." but it sounded like, why wouldn't she be? to which satoru felt like it wasn't a good enough answer. he needed to see, hear that you were okay. and he was afraid that he was regretting his words so easily.

"satoru," now serious, ichiji's words pulled him from his thoughts, "are you still there? what happen-"

"-I fucked up," he choked, "I... I said things I shouldn't have..."

[save-the-villainous-cat]

heyy shawty shawty shawty! so i was reading some of ur old work and i got inspired and i was wondering if u could right something about a insomniac hero and a villain that has sleep/dream powers? thank u for ur work🫡🫡

“What are you doing?” the villain asked carefully, studying the hero.

“Is it normal for you to enter a building through a window?” the hero asked back and despite the villain’s intrusion, they didn’t even look up from their work. Staring at their computer, clicking on something, scrolling down and then scribbling on their paper — it was past 12 and the hero was certainly not getting ready for bed.

Truth be told, the villain had been asked to investigate this behaviour. Please, the hero’s sidekick had begged. You’re the only one who can help them.

Why they’d listened to the kid was a mystery to them. Maybe because they were the villain’s sidekick’s friend. Maybe because they were worried about their mentor. It reminded the villain of their past and how they had failed to act when their own mentor had needed them.

“I prefer windows,” the villain said. “Like the adventure.”

“Criminal,” the hero accused and clicked through a few documents.

“You have a nice office. Could steal some of this stuff.” They lifted a golden statue of…something from its place and turned it in their hands. “If I smack your name onto it, I’ll get a respectable sum.”

“Go ahead,” the hero mumbled, not heeding them. It was insulting how they ignored their nemesis. Sighing, the villain put the object of their desire back. This was no fun. They hadn’t seen the hero in a long, painful time and when they did, their enemy was busy with someone else.

God, the villain didn’t know they were capable of jealousy.

“Watcha up to?”

“Work.”

“I hear you get up at 4 in the morning,” the villain said. They slowly walked towards the hero, one calculated step after the other, as if they were afraid to scare a jumpy animal.

The hero snorted. “Get up at 4. Sure.”

“Wrong?” The villain walked around the desk, catching a glimpse of statistics and documents that bored them to death by just looking at them. What an actual crime to work through this.

“Yeah…” the hero said as they clicked onto a statistic that showed the crime rates of the city in comparison.

“Are those documents saved? With the work you’ve done?” the villain asked.

“Yes. What do you—”

Without a second thought, the villain turned off the computer with their shoe, making the whole system and display shut down with a content sound. However, when the hero turned around in their chair, the villain would’ve loved to jump out of the window again.

“You,“ they said.

“You need sleep.”

“You,” the hero repeated.

“Love.” The villain pushed a streak of hair out of the hero’s face and tugged it behind their ear, smiling softly. “You can’t sleep, can you?”

The hero looked back at the computer, clenching fists relaxing in their lap.

“You need to give yourself a break,” the villain said. Their index finger followed an invisible line down the hero’s throat, lost in the proximity and the possibility of being this close. The hero was so vulnerable like this. “Your sidekick was basically on their knees, asking me to make you rest. I’ve never used my powers on you.”

“I am fine,” the hero said. “I’m perfectly fine. I’m amazingly well.”

“You’re not fighting me anymore,” the villain said and as the words dropped out of their mouth, they wished they hadn’t. It was a glimpse of their true feelings, even though they didn’t think the hero could decipher those right now.

“I have a lot going on right now, okay?”

“Oh, my sweet nemesis.” They took the hero’s hands and ordered them to stand which— shaky at first — turned out pretty well. “You’ll be okay.”

“I didn’t expect this job to be…this time consuming,” the hero said. “I’ve dedicated half my life to this.”

“You can’t sacrifice your health like this.”

“But it’s saving others. Responsibility. You know how it goes.”

“Fuck responsibility,” the villain whispered. “Fuck the city. You’re killing yourself and I cannot stand aside and watch.”

The hero smiled tiredly. “Sounds like you care.”

“God, you’re delusional. You really have to sleep.”

The hero leaned their head against the villain’s chest. The smile hadn’t died yet and for a moment, the villain feared they weren’t going to say anything.

“Okay,” they said, taking the villain’s hand. “Please help me.”

[varpusvaras]

Fox knew what it was like to be tired.

He knew it like it was a physical thing he had carried around with him for years. He knew the weight of it, the way it would drag him down, threatening to pull him through the floor and the ground and through the core of the planet, until he would fall into the endless void of space. During the worst of it, Fox would wonder it that was the only way he was ever going to feel weightless again.

The few hours of sleep he would get during the nights would only make him be able to carry the weight a little easier for the time being, but not make it any lighter. It was something more at that point, Fox had realised, something that would not be cured with just simply closing his eyes for a moment.

So, when Thorn asked him, the moment before Fox stepped onto the ship that would take him away from Coruscant permanently, what was the first thing Fox would do when he got to Alderaan, Fox had an answer ready.

"Sleep", he said. "I'm going to get into a real bed and sleep."

He truly meant it. He also meant it when he told Bail the same, and he meant it when he told it to Breha too.

They all agreed that it was a good idea.

"We're going to take care of everything", Breha promised him.

"You can just rest now", Bail said, and tucked Fox a little closer to him. "Just sleep."

The bed was comfortable, Bail and Breha were warm and safe next to him, and Fox was so, so tired.

He didn't need to be told twice. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

---

Fox opened his eyes.

It was still dark in the bedroom. He was still tucked securely against Bail, with Breha pressed close against his other side. They were both still sleeping.

Fox was fully awake.

He craned his neck a little to see the chrono on Breha's nightstand. 4.15. Precisely the time Fox had woken up every single morning during the war.

Fox turned to look at the ceiling. He counted to ten. The time was still 4.15.

He closed his eyes and tried to match his breathing first to Bail's, then to Breha's, but in vain. He was awake.

Fox opened his eyes and looked at the time. 4.23.

He laid there, looking at the chrono as the minutes slowly ticked by. By 4.30, there was a feeling creeping in. Fox knew it very well. It was the same feeling he had felt every single time he had been stuck in the medbay for any longer period of the time, while he acutely knew that he had work waiting for him.

Restlessness.

By 4.45, he was starting to feel almost anxious. The bed was comfortable and warm, and Bail and Breha were still sleeping, and Fox didn't want to get up, but he wasn't so sure if he could stay in the bed for much longer either.

4.50. 4.55. 4.58. 4.59.

5.00.

Very slowly and very carefully, Fox slid out of Bail's hold and away from Breha, and after making sure that they were still sleeping, he quietly made it out of the bed, grabbed Bail's robe and put it on himself, and then sneaked out of the bedroom.

He didn't do much. He just walked around for a bit in their living room, getting the anxiousness out of his body and his legs to stop tingling, and then he sit down on their couch and looked out of the window. The sun was rising at that point, making the sky pale where it touched down on the mountaintops.

Bail's robe was soft and warm and smelled faintly of Bail's cologne. Fox got a datapad, selected a random video of how to make a some sort of buttercheese pastry, and he buried himself deeper into the robe and watched it. Then he watched through whatever videos the site was suggesting for him, until the sky was painted warm, and he could hear an alarm go off in the bedroom.

It took another few minutes until Breha appeared next to him.

"Oh", she said, and turned to look over her shoulder. "I found your robe, dear!"

Then she sat next to Fox and put her arm around him.

"Have you been awake for long?" She asked. There was no accusation in her voice, and Fox felt a sting of guilt for expecting it to be there.

"For a while", Fox answered. He looked at the time on the datapad. 6.56. "I...couldn't sleep."

He felt somehow like he had failed at something when he said it. Breha only nodded slowly, before she sighed softly, and put her head on Fox's shoulder.

"Did you sleep well?" She asked.

To that, Fox thankfully had a better answer.

"I did", he said. He really had. It had probably been the best sleep of his entire life.

"That's good", Breha said, and lifted her head enough to kiss him on the cheek. "Now, there's going to be caf in just a moment. The usual for you? Black, with a lot of sugar?"

Fox really should be cutting back the sweeteners in his caf, he knew that. But maybe, just this once.

"Exactly that", he answered, just as Bail also made his way into the living room.

"We need to get you your own", he said, looking at Fox. Then he paused for a moment, before adding, "not that you don't look cute in that."

Fox stuck out his tongue at him. Bail only laughed.

---

Fox went to sleep that night, tired and ready to sleep for the next week.

He woke up at 4.15.

He waited until 4.45, and then slid out of the bed.

---

Fox went to sleep, tired and ready to sleep for the next week.

He woke up at 4.15.

He laid there for ten more minutes, before he slid out of the bed.

---

Fox went to sleep, tired and ready to sleep for the next week.

He woke up at 4.15.

He was fully awake, but he felt so heavy. He wanted to just keep laying there, in the warm bed, in the warm and safe embrace he was yet again lovingly wrapped in.

But no. His body soon begun to tell him that he needed to get up, right now, or he was going to have to tear his own skin off.

Fox slid out of the bed, made it to the living room, and collapsed onto the couch.

He was so tired. He wanted to sleep.

Breha and Bail definitely looked concerned when they saw him there that morning.

"Do you want to go see the doctors?" Breha asked him carefully.

"I don't know", Fox told her. He shouldn't have to. He was tired. He wanted to sleep.

---

Fox went to sleep, tired and ready to sleep for the next week.

He woke up at 4.15.

He was fully awake. He was so tired. He wanted to sleep.

Fox forced his eyes shut. He laid there as long as he could, before he had to get up.

He wasn't so careful with it that time, and Bail opened his eyes as he was halfway out.

"Fox?" He asked, groggily, lifting his head. "Where are you going?"

Fox crumpled the sheets in his fists.

"I can't sleep", he choked out, and then fled the bedroom.

Bail followed him a couple of minutes later, and quietly and gently gathered Fox in his arms, and sat with him on the couch, watching a random video after random video, until Breha's alarm went off.

Breha asked Fox about the doctors again. Fox still didn't have an answer for her.

He was so tired. He just wanted to sleep.

What else should he have needed?

---

Fox went to sleep, tired and ready to sleep for the next week.

He woke up at 4.15.

Fox couldn't stop the frustrated and desperate sob from escaping from his mouth before it was too late. Both Bail and Breha were awakened by it, and by the time they had realised what was going on, Fox was already full-on crying.

"I just want to sleep!" Fox wailed, biting his teeth together so hard that it hurt his jaw. "I just want to sleep!"

He pressed his palms against his eyes, trying to keep them shut, but of course, it didn't work.

He was fully awake.

He was so tired. He wanted to sleep.

Breha made the decision for Fox then and there.

"I'm taking you to the doctors", she said, leaving no room for any arguments, not that Fox had any left anyway.

---

The doctor said that Fox's body was still in the so-called "stress mode". It had not yet realised that it was out of the danger, out of the stressful environment it had been forced to operate in for so long.

It was going to take time, apparently, for it to snap out of it. In the meanwhile, Fox got a prescription for something that was supposed to help him sleep.

The doctor gave the medicine to Breha and told her the dosage. Fox thought that it was for the best as well.

---

Fox took his medicine, went to sleep, tired and ready to sleep for the next week.

He was awakened by the alarm. He watched as Breha and Bail got up.

"Do you want to stay in bed for a bit longer?" Bail asked him softly.

Fox nodded. He had slept, but he didn't feel like it at all.

Bail brushed his hair gently back from his face. Breha kissed him just as gently on the forehead before they headed out.

He was so tired. He just wanted to sleep.

Fox cried himself silently back to the sleep that didn't feel like sleep at all.

---

Fox kept his head up, even though it weighed a ton, and he wanted nothing more than to just let it drop down, down, down.

He knew what being tired felt like. It was all that he had ever known, after all.

He blinked. People around him had moved. Oh, right. They were going to have dinner with Bail's family. Fox liked them a lot. He hoped that they liked him as well.

He blinked again. Tia was saying something to him. Fox liked Tia. She was like a smaller Bail, without a beard and a lot more hair.

Fox turned to look at her. She was shorter than him, just a bit. Not a lot, but he still needed to look down if he wanted to look her in the eyes.

He looked down, down, down, past her eyes, past her, down, down, down.

He was so tired.

He just wanted to sleep.

---

Breha bit on her thumbnail.

"Stop that", Bail said, and grabbed her wrist. "You're making it bleed."

Breha would've almost preferred that, if she was being completely honest.

"I know, I just-" She had to pause to gather her thoughts. "I just feel so awful. How did I not notice that it was not working?"

"He was sleeping more", Bail said. He ran his thumb soothingly up and down her wrist. "We knew that he was tired. It doesn't get better in a few days. I didn't notice either."

Breha appreciated him trying to make it sound better, even if it was not working.

Veda opened the door then, and motioned them in.

"Bad news? He's exhausted, and has a little bump and a bruise on his head", she started, scrolling through the diagnosis on her datapad. "Good news? He's sleeping now, and the bump and the bruise will fade in a few days."

Bail squeezed Breha's shoulder.

"What should we do?" He asked.

"Let him sleep", Veda answered. "His body has finally said enough. Make sure that he eats and keeps himself hydrated. I will come and check on him as often as you want."

Breha let herself breathe a little deeper.

"Thank you", she said. Veda smiled a bit.

"It's not the first time I've seen this", she said. "It took a while for Index and the boys to start getting actual rest. They kept waking up in the middle of the night, fully awake and feeling like they needed to get to work. They're better now. Fox will also get better, I promise."

Breha was going to hold onto that promise.

Fox looked very small by himself on the bed, with the blanked wrapped all around him. He didn't wake up when Breha slid onto the bed next to him and wrapped her arms around him as well.

---

Fox slept through the rest of the day like a stone, barely moving at all. Breha kept telling herself that it was alright, that he was finally resting.

Fox did finally move, when they both went to sleep as well. He shifted a little when Breha rested her head over his chest and Bail wrapped his arm around his middle. He made a small sound, and then sagged back against the pillows with a deep sigh.

His heartbeat was strong against Breha's ear. She fell asleep listening to its steady drumming.

---

Fox woke up the next day just before noon. He went to the bathroom, ate a bowl of light soup their chef had made for him, drank a glass of water Bail gave him, mumbled I love you to them, and went back to bed.

He was out again the moment his head hit the pillow.

Bail draped the blanket over him.

"At least he is sleeping", he said. "I'll do my work from here today."

Breha nodded.

"Update me if anything happens", she made him promise.

---

Bail sent her the first picture ten minutes into the first hearing of the day.

Breha quickly glanced at it in between the speakers.

Fox had grabbed onto the rest of the pillows as well, and stuffed them halfway inside his blanket.

He has made his claim read the message accompanying the picture.

The picture made something unwind further in her chest.

It would be okay, she told herself.

---

"Did you sleep well?" Breha asked, twirling Fox's hair around her finger.

"Mm-mmh", Fox hummed, already mostly asleep again. Breha peppered light kisses on his cheeks and nose before he was fully under again.

---

The Cocoon has moved, Bail messaged her at the end of the weeks Council meeting. In the attached picture, Fox had apparently rolled over to the other side of the bed from where Breha had left him that morning. His hair was sticking up a bit, and he had a small pout on his face as he slept.

He was so very adorable. Breha saved the image for herself.

---

Fox slept through the last two days of the week as well, with barely stirring for longer than a few minutes at a time.

Zhellday morning he blinked awake around ten, properly hungry for the first time in a while, and ate a good breakfast and a light lunch soon on top of it. He went back to bed after, but didn't fall back asleep right away.

"How are you feeling?" Bail asked him.

Fox blinked at couple of times, his nose scrunching up in thought.

"Tired", he said. "Better. But sweaty."

Bail laughed.

"You've been toasting inside the blankets for a while", he said. "I'll draw you a bath."

Fox smiled back at him, a little wobbly.

"Thank you", he said, and then promptly fell back asleep.

Bail shook his head, and went to the bathroom to warm up the bathtub.

---

"Have I ever told you about the time I decided to run away from home?" Bail asked.

"No?" Fox turned to look at him, after blinking slowly first. He was shoulders in to the water, with the foaming soap already stuck to one side of his face.

"I was around ten", Bail started, rolling his sleeves up more and putting his hands into the water to scoop it up. He poured the water over Fox's head a few times over, before getting the shampoo. "Back then I really didn't want to grow up to be a Nobleman."

He poured the shampoo to his hands and rubbed them together slightly, before starting to work it into Fox's hair.

"I do remember that", Fox mumbled. He tilted his head forward a bit to give Bail better access. "You wanted to go adventuring around the Galaxy."

"I did", Bail nodded. "It was really getting to me, at that point. I would spend all the time I could outside, living inside my games, predenting I was far, far away from Kathou, from Alderaan altogether. I thought this place was boring back then."

He still remembered it clearly, although not too vividly. Too much had changed during the years between that and the current moment. Now, Bail didn't know anything better than Alderaan.

He got the shampoo in, and got more water to rinse it out. They had gotten a good conditioner as well, one that promised that it was made to keep curly hair like Fox's soft and moisturised. The soaps the GAR had used had definitely not been made with the clone's hair in mind.

"I was awake one night, later than I should've been", Bail continued, as he started to gently massage the conditioner to Fox's hair. "I was thinking of sneaking into the library and getting one of the books to read, when I heard my parents talk. They were debating over sending me to a school to learn some discipline and responsibility. I feel a bit funny over how much that thought upset me then. I was definitely a bit spoiled."

He felt especially silly about it now, sitting next to the bathtub in the Royal Palace, while washing his husband's hair for him. His husband, who had known nothing else than training and pain and duty his entire life before now, and was tired to the bone because of it.

Bail's parents had not even been the ones who had come up with the idea of sending him to a boarding school for a year or two. It had been his grandfather, and his parents had been very much against the idea, believing that Bail would grow out of it when he was older, if he just felt supported enough. They had been very right, of course. Not that Bail had stayed to listen to them for long enough to figure that out-

Fox slid deeper into the water. His eyes had closed while Bail had concentrated on getting the conditioner in.

His mouth was partially under the water now. Bail put his hand under his chin and lifted it up.

"Fox", he called. Fox startled a bit, and sent the water splashing as he scrambled to sit back up, his eyes open and wide.

"I'm awake", he said, shivering as his wet skin hit the air. "I'm awake. Sorry, what did you just say?"

There was a single curl plastered over Fox's forehead and the bridge of his nose. Bail stiffled a laugh.

"I was saying, that I think you have been in there for long enough", he said. "Let me just rinse this off."

Fox's eyes were drooping again by the time Bail had gotten a towel for him. Bail dried his hair and wrapped the towel around him, and then led him back to the bedroom.

Sometimes Bail didn't like his height and size, but sometimes being the tallest person in most rooms came in handy. His shirts were all too big for Fox, and thus easy to slip on him without too much of a fuss.

Fox's eyes were barely open as Bail got him back to bed.

"Have good dreams, my love", he said, pressing a kiss on Fox's forehead. Fox hummed, content, and just a few seconds later, he was already asleep.

Bail got his datapad and laid down next to him, opening his inbox. Fox shifted, and nuzzled in closer to Bail's side.

Bail threw his arm behind him and slipped his fingers into Fox's still slightly damp hair, and Fox settled back down with another soft, content noise.

---

Breha got back from her audiences a couple of hours later.

She opened her hair from the braid and tied it back up to a simple updo, changed out her dress to simple shirt and soft pants and laid down on the other side of Fox.

"I see that you managed to keep him from drowning in the bath", she said, leaning her head lightly on Fox's chest. Fox turned his head slightly to her direction, breathing in a little deeper.

"Had a couple of close calls", Bail laughed, and put his datapad away. "Do you want to watch something?"

"They have the new episode of House Brighterdon up", Breha said, grinning as Bail groaned. "Don't try that, I know you're just as invested as we are."

"Are you sure it's alright to watch it without Fox?" Bail asked. He was already reaching for the screen controls.

"What makes you think that Fox and I haven't already watched it?" Breha asked. "The episode was released a couple of weeks ago already, the next one is coming next week. I'm not watching that one without Fox, don't you worry."

"If you have already watched this, why are you making me watch it?" Bail asked. He was typing the name of the show in as he spoke.

"Because, like I just said, I know you're just as invested as we are. I'm just making sure that you are caught up as well, you stubborn little bantha."

Bail rolled his eyes and pressed start.

---

Fox opened his eyes.

It was still dark in the bedroom. He was still tucked securely against Bail, with Breha pressed close against his other side. They were both still sleeping.

He blinked slowly, and then lifted his head to look at the chrono on Breha's nightstand. 4.14

Fox watched as the time ticked over to 4.15.

Then he put his head back down, burrowed a little deeper under his blanket, and closed his eyes, drifting back to easy sleep.

---

Fox knew what it was like to be tired.

He knew it like it was a physical thing he had carried around with him for years. Whatever sleep he had gotten before had only made him be able to carry the weight a bit easier for a little while, but not make it weigh any less.

Fox woke up to the ringing of the alarm and the first rays of proper sunlight softly shining through the blinds.

He moved his arms and legs, hoisting himself up, and rubbed his eyes.

As he sat there, in the middle of his bed, in his bedroom, with his wife and husband waking up next to him, for the first time in his life, Fox felt lighter.

Bail leaned to press a quick kiss to the corner of Fox's mouth.

"Good morning", he said, his voice still a bit rough from the sleep. "Did you sleep well?"

Fox breathed in.

"Yes", he said.

[astonmartingf]

also random but look at this snippet for a vv specific draft... (call it manifestation or wtvr)

[prince-liest]

I looked away and then when I looked back there was half of a new, unplanned fic suddenly written and I really don't know what happened, I swear.