#we all just want to be understood to feel loved

[hoe4hotchner]

Helloooo, how are you?I want to make a request about Aaron. Where he and the reader are almost dating but he doesn't feel ready, so he rejects the reader, and she understands. Time passes and they have to go to a case somewhere else, and the officer in charge is an ex of the reader. But not a bad ex, but a really good one, they interact and he confesses to her how much he misses her. I leave the ending to your consideration, thank you ❤️, I love your writing

Almost | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader | WC: 0.9k | CW: Hurt (Is that even a genre?), past relationship, rejection, mild heartache?, miscommunication, it could probably qualify as unrequited love during some parts of the story.

When Aaron rejected you, you understood.

He had stood in front of you, his jaw tense, his hands clenched into fists at his sides like he was physically restraining himself from reaching out. The words had come quietly, like he was ashamed to say them.

"I can’t. Not yet."

You had seen the hesitation in his eyes, the conflict flickering beneath the surface. He wanted you, you knew that much. It was the way his gaze lingered when he thought you weren’t paying attention, the way his fingers ghosted over yours when he handed you a file, the way his voice softened when he said your name. But wanting you and being ready for you were two different things. And you understood that. You understood him.

So you had smiled, forcing a lightness into your voice that you didn’t feel. "I understand, Hotch."

His mouth had pressed into a thin line, like he had hated hearing you call him that again. Like it made the distance between you all the more real.

And so you had walked away, ignoring the ache in your chest, pretending it didn’t feel like losing something before you even had the chance to call it yours.

Months had passed since then, months filled with cases and long nights, with stolen glances that neither of you acknowledged, with tension so thick it was suffocating.

And now you were here, miles away from home, standing beside Hotch as you were introduced to the officer in charge of the case you were called onto.

The moment you saw him, you hesitated.

"Y/N," he breathed, his tone was thick with nostalgia.

A slow smile spread across your face before you could stop it. "Matt?"

Matt was the man you had once thought you might spend your life with. A man who had loved you without hesitation, without fear, without walls—even when your job had become more demanding than his, calling you away more than you were home.

Hotch went still beside you.

Matt grinned. "I can’t believe it. You look—" He huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head. "You look incredible."

Warmth filled your chest, a feeling of something familiar and bittersweet bubbling within. "You too."

Hotch hadn’t moved. Hadn’t said a word. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his fist clenched at his side, his thumb struggling to do that thing he only did when he was trying to focus.

Matt glanced at him, his brow lifting slightly before turning back to you. "We should catch up after this. Get a drink or something."

There was no ulterior motive in his voice, no expectation—just two people reconnecting after years apart.

Hotch walked away.

Hours later, you found yourself outside, the cold night air settling over your skin. The case was far from over, but for now, there was a brief lull, it gave you a moment to breathe—finally.

The sound of footsteps approached from behind you. The tension in the air shifted subtly, and without needing to glance over your shoulder, you knew exactly who it was—his footsteps alone spoke volumes, a rhythm you had come to recognize in your bones years ago.

"Are you going to see him?"

The question wasn’t casual. It was quiet, clipped, barely contained. You exhaled, tilting your head up to the sky, spotting a few stars peeking out from behind the clouds. "I might."

"Do you still love him?" Hotch finally spoke after a long pause

You let out a breath that was almost a laugh, though there was no humor in it. "Aaron, what does it matter?"

"It matters," he said, and this time, his voice was raw, something fraying at the edges. "It matters to me."

You turned then, searching his face. He looked calm on the surface, as he always did, but you could see the tension in his posture, the way his fists curled at his sides for the second time that day, the way his jaw clenched.

"Why?" you asked softly.

His breath hitched, just barely. "Because I—" He stopped, swallowing hard. His gaze dropped, and for the first time, he looked uncertain. "Because I should have never let you walk away."

Your chest tightened, something sharp twisting inside you. "You didn’t let me walk away. You pushed me away."

His eyes shut briefly, as if the words physically hurt him. "I know."

You took a step closer, close enough that you could see the exhaustion in his face, the faint circles beneath his eyes. "Aaron," you murmured. "You told me you weren’t ready."

"I'm still not," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze locked onto yours, something breaking in the depths of his dark eyes as you stared at each other. "But I can’t stand the thought of losing you to someone else."

The words hung between you, heavy, aching, and too late—they were not enough.

You inhaled slowly, shaking your head. "That’s not fair to me."

His jaw tensed, his hands flexing like he wanted to reach for you—just like that day—but knew he had no right to. "I know that too."

Silence stretched between you, filled with all the words neither of you had said before.

Then, finally, you sighed, your lips curving into something sad, something resigned. "You don’t get to keep me in limbo, Aaron. If you want me, you have to choose me. Otherwise, I have to move on. I can't wait for you to be ready, what if that day never comes?"

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, as if the thought physically pained him. His eyes searched yours, they were desperate and conflicted, understanding your reasons, but not wanting to believe them.

He said nothing.

And you? You didn’t wait for him to.

You turned, walking away before the ache in your chest could consume you. Because this time, it had to be his choice.

And you weren’t going to wait forever.

[sophsbookstore]

New Beginnings

Quinn Hughes x reader ｡･:*˚:✧｡

Word Count: 3225

A/N: HE'S HERE!! Shout out to the anon who gave the name idea, and thank you to everyone who sent ideas (I wrote them down for future use, don't worry!)

also I wanted to get this out fast so apologies for no banner, but enjoy this gif!

Masterlist can be found here!

The soft, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound breaking the quiet stillness of the hospital room. The small room, once sterile and impersonal, had transformed into something so much warmer in the hours since your son had arrived. The windows let in a gentle stream of moonlight, casting a calming glow over the room. The air smelled faintly of lavender from the small bottle of essential oil you’d brought from home, a small comfort in this strange, sterile place. The bed, with its crisp white linens and worn quilted blanket, was a far cry from the chaos of labor, but now it was filled with love.

Quinn sat beside you, his large frame almost swallowing the space beside you as he held your newborn son in his arms. His baby boy. His son. The words still felt surreal, even hours after the birth. The emotions that coursed through you—the love, the overwhelming sense of joy, the tender affection for the little being Quinn was gently cradling in his arms—were beyond words.

Quinn looked down at his son with such tenderness, his eyes full of awe as he gazed at the tiny life in his arms. His son, with a head of soft, dark hair and tiny hands that seemed too small to belong to such a big world. Quinn couldn’t stop smiling, and neither could you, though you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell in your chest as you watched him.

"He's perfect," Quinn whispered, his voice barely more than a soft breath. His fingers gently stroked the baby’s cheek, a movement so tender it almost felt like he was afraid to touch him too much, as if he were afraid of breaking something so precious.

You could only nod, your eyes brimming with tears as you took in the sight of your family—your little family—finally together. You hadn’t expected it to feel like this. You thought you understood love, you thought you understood what it meant to have someone in your life who mattered more than anything else. But this? This was something else entirely. Your son was here, and with him, a whole new world had opened up.

“I can’t believe he’s finally here,” you whispered, your voice raw with emotion. The pain of labor still a distant memory now that your son was in your arms, but the rush of feelings that came with becoming a mother, of seeing Quinn as a father, was all-consuming.

Quinn’s eyes flickered toward you, his gaze soft and full of admiration. He shifted, making sure your son was safe in his arms as he leaned closer to you. “He’s so small. I can’t believe we made him.”

You smiled, your hand reaching out to rest on his arm, the touch gentle and comforting. “He’s perfect, Quinn. Just like you.”

He chuckled softly, though there was no real humor in the sound. Instead, there was awe. “You really think so?”

You nodded, the smile not leaving your face. “I do. He looks just like you, you know.”

Quinn let out a soft laugh, and you could feel the tension in his shoulders relax even more as the moment between the three of you felt almost too perfect to be real. “I don’t know about that. He’s so small, I don’t know if he even has a chance of looking like me. But I hope he gets your smile.” He paused, his eyes falling to the baby in his arms. “I hope he gets your kindness too.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you turned your head to look at Quinn. “You’re going to be such an amazing dad.”

He met your gaze, his eyes soft and full of warmth. “We’re in this together, right? I know I’m gonna screw up sometimes, but I’ll do everything I can to make sure he has the best life possible. Just like you’re gonna be the best mom.” He paused, looking back at the little bundle in his arms, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s lucky to have you.”

The lump in your throat returned, but you swallowed it down, wanting to savor this moment. “He’s lucky to have both of us.” You looked back at your son, his tiny face scrunched up as he slept peacefully in Quinn’s arms. “I can’t believe he’s ours.”

Quinn’s eyes softened, and for a moment, the world outside the hospital room seemed to disappear. It was just the three of you, tucked away in this quiet, safe place. The bond between the two of you had always been strong, but now it felt like it had deepened in a way neither of you had expected. Your love for each other, for this little life you’d created, was unlike anything you’d ever known.

“I’m just so happy he’s here,” Quinn whispered, his voice full of sincerity. “So happy we’re finally parents. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy in my whole life.”

And in that moment, as you all huddled together in the soft glow of the hospital room, surrounded by the love you’d created, you knew that this was just the beginning. The beginning of a whole new chapter in your life—one that would be filled with challenges, but also so much joy. Because, as Quinn had said, this little one was yours. Your family. And nothing would ever be the same again.

The peaceful calm of the hospital room was disrupted by the sudden buzz of Quinn's phone vibrating on the bedside table. He glanced down at the screen, a small frown of concentration crossing his face as he saw the name flashing across it.

"It's Jack," Quinn murmured, his thumb swiping the screen to answer the text.

You watched as Quinn quickly read the message, his eyes scanning the words before a wide grin slowly spread across his face. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, and you saw the excitement in his eyes. "Jack says everyone’s on their way. My parents, your parents, and Luke. They’re all coming to meet him."

You smiled softly, your heart fluttering in your chest. “That’s so sweet. I’m so glad they can be here.”

Quinn nodded, still smiling as he typed back a quick response, then placed his phone back down. He turned to look at you, his hand resting on your knee. “I’ll let them in when they get here, but we need to put him down for a second, okay? You need to rest for a bit.”

You nodded, though you didn’t want to let go of your baby, even for a moment. But you understood. Quinn had been so gentle, so attentive with him since he was born, and you knew he’d want to be the one to greet everyone and show them the little one.

Carefully, Quinn shifted the baby from his arms, cradling him gently as he placed him in the small bassinet beside your bed. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness at the momentary separation, but it was fleeting. You could already feel the warmth of your little family growing stronger with every passing second.

Quinn leaned down and kissed your forehead, squeezing your hand. “I’ll be right back, I just want to make sure everyone’s settled and they don’t overwhelm you.” He gave you one last reassuring smile before walking to the door, opening it just as your parents and his came into the room.

The air in the room shifted as soon as the door opened, the sound of footsteps and the low hum of excited conversation filling the small space. You watched as Quinn's parents, your parents, Jack, and Luke all filed into the room all carrying various blue balloons and baby toys, their faces lighting up as they caught sight of the two of you. It was like a wave of warmth washing over you—this was your family, all here to celebrate the new life you had just welcomed into the world.

Quinn’s mom was the first to reach the bed, her arms open wide as she enveloped you in a tight hug. "Oh, sweetie," she whispered, pulling back to look at you with bright eyes, “I’m so proud of you. He’s beautiful.”

You smiled warmly, hugging her back as she ran a hand over your hair. "Thank you," you replied softly, “we’re so happy he’s finally here.”

Quinn’s dad, standing behind her, stepped forward next, a proud smile plastered across his face as he leaned down to give you a hug. “You both did great. He’s lucky to have parents like you.”

Your own parents were close behind, both of them visibly overwhelmed with emotion as they approached. Your mom was already tearing up as she gave you a gentle hug, holding you a little longer than usual. “He’s so perfect. I can’t believe I’m a grandmother now.”

You giggled softly, feeling a surge of happiness in your chest. “I know, it’s so surreal, but in the best way.”

Your dad, who had been standing back a bit, gave Quinn a hearty slap on the back before coming over to give you a warm hug. “You’re gonna be amazing parents, both of you. We’re so proud.”

Quinn gave his parents a brief hug as well, before turning to Jack and Luke. Jack, who had been practically jumping up and down, immediately pulled Quinn into a bear hug. “Congrats, man,” he said excitedly, clapping his brother’s back. “You’re a dad. Holy crap, I can’t believe it.”

Luke, standing behind Jack, offered a knowing smile and gave you a nod of approval. "Congrats," he added, his voice low but warm.

Jack, after finally letting go of Quinn, immediately moved toward the bassinet where their son lay, his eyes locked on the tiny figure. “Let me see him!” he said, his excitement clear in his voice. The rest of the group followed suit, gathering around the bed, their eyes on the little boy.

“Everyone, this is our son,” you said softly, your voice full of love as you gestured to the baby in the bassinet. “This is Casey Jack Hughes.”

There was a brief pause as everyone took in the name, the soft sounds of admiration filling the room. Then, Jack’s face lit up in pure delight, his eyes wide with happiness as he leaned closer to the baby. “Casey Jack?” He practically shouted. “Oh my God, that’s awesome!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Jack’s excitement. Quinn, standing beside you, wrapped an arm around your shoulders, his eyes warm as he shared a quiet smile with you. You both had kept the name a secret for so long, but now, hearing Jack’s reaction, you couldn’t be more happy with your choice.

“You like it?” you asked, your voice full of affection.

“Like it?” Jack repeated, beaming. “I love it! I’m so honored. Casey Jack—CJ. That’s what I’m gonna call him. CJ, what do you think of that, buddy?” Jack looked down at the baby with a huge grin, his voice turning soft as he spoke to the tiny life in front of him. “Yeah, CJ’s got a nice ring to it.”

You laughed, the warmth in the room filling your heart. “You’re gonna spoil him, aren’t you?”

Jack winked at you, his excitement palpable. “I’m gonna be the best uncle ever. You’re both lucky to have me around.” He looked down at CJ again, his fingers gently brushing the baby’s tiny hand. “What do you think, little guy? You gonna remember me as the coolest uncle when you grow up?”

Quinn, his own heart swelling with joy, leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead before giving his brother a side-eye. “Easy there, Jack. We’re gonna have to make sure he gets some sleep, too, you know?”

Jack just grinned, completely undeterred. “I’ll be gentle, promise. But CJ’s gonna know who his favorite uncle is, right?”

“Definitely,” Quinn said, rolling his eyes fondly. “But let’s give him a minute. He’s still brand new.”

Your parents smiled, their eyes filled with warmth as they took a step back to let Jack have his moment. “You’ve got a great name, little Casey,” your dad added softly, his voice full of pride. “We can’t wait to watch you grow.”

It was overwhelming, in the best way possible—the amount of love that surrounded you and your new family. The world outside felt distant now, as if everything had fallen into place in this tiny hospital room. There would be challenges ahead, but in this moment, you felt at peace. You were surrounded by family, you had the love of Quinn, and your son, Casey, was already so deeply cherished by everyone.

Quinn squeezed your hand, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “This is just the beginning,” he whispered. “Our family, it’s perfect.”

—

The morning light filtered through the windows of your home, casting a soft glow over the living room as Quinn carefully stepped inside, carrying the baby carrier in one hand. Your heart swelled as you watched him—your strong, gentle Quinn—carrying your son into the house for the first time. It felt so surreal, but in the best possible way.

After a long night in the hospital, full of excitement and happy tears, you’d finally arrived home. Your legs were still a little unsteady, but the warmth and comfort of being in your own space made everything feel a little easier. There was something so peaceful about being home with your family—your new family—and you couldn’t wait to settle into this new chapter of your life.

Quinn glanced over at you, his eyes soft as he set the carrier down on the couch. “Alright, babe. Get some rest. I’ll take care of everything with Casey while you recharge.”

You smiled tiredly, nodding. “I’m not that tired, I promise. I just need a minute.”

“Hey, I know how you’re feeling,” he said, his voice gentle as he placed a hand on your shoulder. “You’ve been through a lot. I’ll handle this part, you take the time you need.”

Your eyes softened as you looked up at him. You could see the quiet pride in his face as he looked at your son in the carrier, his hands hovering over the little one as if he couldn’t quite believe this was real. It was still amazing to see Quinn, the man you’d loved for so long, now in this role—the role of a father. It felt like everything had fallen into place.

You nodded, though you didn’t immediately walk away. Instead, you stayed where you were, leaning against the kitchen counter, watching as Quinn carefully lifted the baby carrier, cradling it with one arm while the other held onto the handle. His movements were slow and deliberate, careful not to disturb the baby.

The way he looked at Casey, so full of awe and tenderness, made your heart ache with love. It was as if, in those moments, the rest of the world didn’t matter. There was only Quinn, only your little boy, and only the home you’d created together.

He turned toward the hallway and glanced over his shoulder, catching your eyes. “Come on,” he said softly. “I’m going to show Casey his new room.”

With a small sigh, you pushed off the counter and walked toward him. The sight of Quinn gently carrying the carrier through your house, as if he was guiding his son into the world, was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. And as much as you wanted to rest, you couldn’t help but want to be there, to be a part of this moment.

You followed him quietly down the hallway, your steps light as you took in the sight of your home. The walls you had carefully chosen, the pictures you’d hung together, the quiet space you’d made for this family of three. It all felt so much more real now.

Quinn reached the nursery door and stopped just outside, holding the baby carrier steady. He turned to you with a soft smile, his eyes gleaming with pride. “This is it. His room.”

You peered inside, your eyes scanning the soft blue walls, the crib tucked in the corner, and the shelves lined with tiny stuffed animals. Everything about the room felt peaceful and full of love, just like the rest of the house. It had been a labor of love, carefully decorated with the anticipation of this very moment.

“He’s going to love it here,” you said, your voice a little thick with emotion. It felt like this room was made just for him, and somehow, seeing it all come together made the reality of being parents feel even more overwhelming.

“I think so, too,” Quinn murmured, gently setting the carrier down on the changing table. “I can’t wait to watch him grow up here. I can’t wait to see all the milestones—his first steps, his first words…everything.” He turned back toward you, a little sheepish. “I know it’s going to be a lot of work, but I’m ready for it. I want to be there for every little thing.”

You walked into the room, standing next to him as you both looked down at the carrier, the tiny figure of your son peacefully asleep inside. The sight of him, so small and perfect in his new world, made your heart swell with pride.

“We’re going to be great parents,” you said softly, your hand brushing against his arm. “We’re doing this together.”

Quinn smiled, his expression softening. “I’m so glad you’re with me through all of this. We’ve got this, right?”

“Absolutely,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Together. Always.”

Carefully, Quinn unbuckled the straps of the baby carrier, lifting Casey gently into his arms. The baby stirred slightly but didn’t wake, his small body relaxing against Quinn’s chest. You couldn’t help but admire how natural it all looked, how Quinn seemed so comfortable in this new role, how Casey fit perfectly in his arms as though he had always belonged there.

You stepped forward, guiding Quinn toward the crib. As he gently lowered Casey into the soft blankets, you watched in awe, your heart overflowing. Quinn stood there for a moment, just gazing down at their son, his expression full of love and admiration.

“He’s perfect,” Quinn murmured quietly, almost to himself, as he stood beside the crib, his hand resting on the edge.

You smiled, your hand finding Quinn’s as you joined him by the crib. “He really is.”

The two of you stood there in silence for a long moment, just looking at your son, feeling the weight of this beautiful new chapter in your lives. Everything had changed in an instant—your world now revolved around Casey, and in so many ways, it felt like you were living in a dream.

But as you stood there, hand in hand, watching your little boy peacefully sleep in his new room, you knew one thing for sure: This was only the beginning.

And with Quinn by your side, there was nothing you couldn’t face.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

drawing hearts in the byline

osamu d. x reader

in a rare moment of “weakness” for him, dazai shows you whats underneath his bandages. angst/comfort, slight nsfw (implied)

this is one of those ones i needed to write, and i’m so glad i did. heres to all the comfort i’ve found on this app 🤍

song: tolerate it

broad shoulders and lean arms hold you in place on his mattress, touch firm but not mean. he’s seeing you for you, all of you, long, slender fingers unbuttoning and unlacing whatever they can find. his brown eyes stare, chocolate swirled admiration, as he finds more and more of you to expose.

its not his first time, nor is it yours, but dazai has that sort of magic about him. the kind of enchanting bliss that makes nightly, mundane rituals between couples far past their honeymoon’s feel like its their first time meeting. the kind of magic you find once in a lifetime, the kind of love that should be celebrated.

lips ghost over your face, nose nuzzling in with yours, a tender, almost child-like sweetness only dazai manages. you both know that even if you don’t have sex, you still want to feel skin against skin while you sleep. its a need for any touch-starved light sleeper.

the way your eyes ghost over the white fabric, mummifying him and what lies underneath, isn’t lost on him. he’s far too observant to miss a gaze like that, let alone your gaze.

but instead, he smiles, tilting your chin up so your eyes meet his. “looking at something, gorgeous?”

you wonder if that signature suave, that flintiness is a mask so fit, he either can’t go anywhere without it, or doesn’t realize he’s wearing it. either way, your hands intertwine with his, your thumb brushing over his bandaged knuckles.

“i just wonder why you always have these on, ‘samu. thats all.”

ah, the inevitable.

he hopes you don’t notice the slight fade that hits his smile, though he knows you will. years of barbed wire he threw blankets over, hoping it wouldn’t take up too much space or time. that he wasn’t taking up too much space.

he lifts his wrist, tracing over the lines of gauze. for a moment, he thinks, gears turning in his head, analyzing. he’s so used to holding his cards so close to his chest, most don’t realize he’s even hiding any. there are dangers with revealing himself, with making any moves un-calculated.

he short circuits when he feels your body shift closer to him, realizing that he is still in bed with you, and still needs to give you an answer. but he isn’t sure what to say- theres only one reason a man like him is always wearing bandages.

so why is he struggling to tell you the obvious?

“its not a pleasant story.” he settles on, eyes growing reminiscent. “its not even just one story.”

you bite your inner lip, looking for the words to say. some people don’t want to be comforted. some have a longing to simply disappear, and disappear is simply a soft word for that harsh reality.

his tendencies are so often treated as nuisances, you wonder if he ever had anyone that truly stopped and tried to understand.

“i just wanna know why.” you say, taking his hand. “i mean, i think i know. a little. but i wanna hear it from you.”

he’s embarrassed by how quickly that stinging feeling in his eyes arises.

“let me spare you from it.” his lips ghost a smile, fingers intertwined with yours. he isn’t sure what he’s done to deserve you- someone who sits and waits for him like a kid, using your best colors for his portrait, sitting with him in bed with zero traces of judgement or disdain. its funny how different we view ourselves and how others see us.

“don’t do that.” you’re stern, making sure he sees you. “i wanna be here for you. i want you to know that.”

he’s supposed so much older, wiser. and yet, he finds himself crumbling at just a few words.

his breath is shaky as he exhales. the only other person in his life who ever understood him died in his arms. he doesn’t want to wait to lose the second. he doesn’t want to lose you. for once in his life, he has something that may be worth living for.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.*

the bandages unravel like skin from bones. they’re not tight by any means, but he had gotten so used to wearing them, he wonders if the heater is off or if its just the air finding bare skin.

its his skin. he knows more than anyone what mars it by now. but seeing that look of horror cross your eyes, taking in the lines and burns, makes his stomach churn.

for once, he doesn’t have a witty comeback or a smart reply. he just lets you take it in. tolerate it.

he knows you’ll cry, but it still hurts when you do. those tears shouldn’t be falling from your eyes, his pain his alone. it had been that way for many years.

he anticipates shock, and tears, and sufferance. what he doesn’t expect is to feel your lips kissing down his wrist, actively seeking out those scars.

“beautiful,” he says, his free hand moving to your waist, almost instinctively. “what are you doing?”

“i love you.” you cut him off. “you don’t have to hide this from me. i’m sorry.”

he almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of your apology. why would you apologize for something he hid? he can’t figure it out, but he doesn’t try too, either.

its all foreign to him- kisses, love, acceptance. a vessel he taught himself to hate, to seek out death, you embraced and nurtured. he doesn’t have many words for that.

you finally work your way up to his face, forehead resting against his. dazai pulls you onto his lap, kissing you deep and slow, wanting to feel it until his lungs scratch for air. even after he gives out, needing to breathe, his face stays mere centimetres away from yours.

and that need isn’t one sided, either. your arms wrap around his neck, his bare neck, arms finding their place despite the many slits and scars. your heart is beating his name in morse code, the space between yours and dazai’s lips your temple, your mural, even your sky.

he lets out a humourless laugh, coffee eyes staring into yours. “is it tolerable?”

your quick to shake your head, shutting him up with another kiss. “i’m not tolerating it. not when i still love you. i’m not some god damn martyr.”

he blinks away a single tear, lips curving into a smile- a genuine one.

“i love you.” he whispers.

“i love you too.”

“well, now that we’re both undressed.”

“REALLY, ‘samu?”

he laughs, pushing you onto the bed, keeping you up the entire night. if you can celebrate him, he’ll learn to tolerate himself. maybe a little.

[manyu-ten]

Stans of all kind are lowkey a curse upon oneself because how are you gonna just be like "he isn't the only one who died young" but another person will say "its a trauma response not a temper tantrum".

Now, y'all. Both can be true. A temper tantrum can be a part of one's trauma response when the trauma in question is "I died at 15 and was lowkey catatonic before being pushed into a magical pit of green water". No shit the kid has shitty emotional regulation 😭. How many of us were happy with our families' versions of help when we were teenagers who felt like no one understood us?

Yeah, a temper tantrum is a clear sign of Emotional Dysregulation. Its also a sign of trauma. Thats two things that are both true, even at the same time.

As for Jason's actual death:

It was literally a turning point for Comics in general. I've tutored students from classes where DitF was taught in curriculums concerning the development of media and pop culture. Where it—in context of DC's pre-crisis, Infinite-crisis and post-crisis lineup AND in the context of the actual climate of DC Comics/real life fans in the 80s—was dissected.

Him dying young, as Robin, as an associate of Batman and the newly minted Nightwing, as a character explicitly shown to not want to give Rapists compassion—that was a big deal at the time. Not a mind bogglingly big deal. But it meant something to a lot of people one way or another. Tim's creation, from his background, to how he is associated with Dick to him eventually having his very own Robin run is a testament to what DC felt like they had to do after Jason was killed. Haunting the narrative for the character development of Bruce, Dick, Tim and even to a limited extent, Cass's relationship to Bruce during her og Batgirl run.

I think (this is a flexible opinion than can be changed and or added upon. Have comprehension y'all) the most significant (and truly, that may be stretching it a little) death of an underage hero in DC's lineup before Jason might have been Terra and part of the reason her death was so significant was because of the characters it introduced: Deathstroke, Jericho and Dick becoming Nightwing.

Modernly, we are influenced by our thoughts and behaviors concerning these characters by not just the actual comics, but the social climate (economic, political, parasocial, the avenues of trends in media) permeating the time in which each of these storylines were presented. We have predisposed notions of characters and their archetypes, as well as the facets of human sociability that they represent.

Implicitly, or with full discretion, we're inclined to give certain narratives, certain characters, more or less leeway than others. It doesn't matter which way you skew, we all tend to fall somewhere on the spectrum.

On Jason's standoff with Bruce:

He explicitly states that he knows Bruce loved him. What he wanted proven was does Bruce still love him, despite what he's done and if he shoots the Joker through the head.

It should also be noted, Jason says he doesn't care for the World in Lost Days, but, because we all have enough comprehension, we understand this isn't true, as he is shown still caring for other people.

Saying that he rejects every hand offered: yeah, he does. He probably doesn't feel like they are offering because they care about him specifically, only that they gotta save him from himself like some paradigm of their moral codes. Sometimes, he's just being a bitch. Which, real. Y'all do shit rationally all the time with no impulsive influence of emotion? Give me your tips. People on the internet in their 30s, with fully developed frontal lobes still irrationally react to things all the time. Why are you guys expecting a fictional, died and got resurrected 19 year old to have proper emotional regulation? The bitch didn't even graduate high school like guys, yeah he's wrong about shit. Yeah, he can throw a temper tantrum. But. He's also rightfully angry about some stuff.

Is rejecting the offered hand of one only worth criticism when the person is an obvious danger to others? When Dick places the blame upon all wrongdoings on himself (unfairly so) and chooses to walk the path alone, when Cassandra does the same (equally, unfairly so)—are they not dangers to others too? They are. It doesn't matter if it works out for them in the end—the point is that they WERE a possible danger. Self-flagellation or perceived guilt doesn't absolve you of possibly risking other peoples' lives and or livelihoods. As the saying goes, the dog that cries after the kill is no better than the dog who does not. (Kill is metaphoric here. Please understand this y'all 😭).

(Another aside: Everyone is so quick to call a character sociopathic 😭. Sociopathy isn't a diagnosable mental disorder, but more than that, in real life, one must have actually had a Conduct Disorder in order to fulfill part of the criteria to be diagnosed with ASPD as an adult. You could argue Jason had CD, but in most cases, you could also say the same shit as Dick. If Jason has childhood CD, so did Dick. People misunderstand antisocial behavior as a symptom of other disorders as stark evidence of sociopathy or psychopathy. Jason was antisocial in his New-Earth run in Lost Days and UtRH (and anything else predating BftC) but, arguably, so was Bruce and Dick to an extent. The only reason people are so adamant to point it out with Jason is because of his alignment and his stance on killing. I'm sorry guys, but some of the most antisocial, diagnosed with ASPD, literally psychopathic or sociopathic people I have ever worked with are Surgeons—especially Surgeons who work with convicted felons. They will save your life, put their all into the care of a patient and guess what? They still antisocial as fuck. Doing good things doesn't excuse you of being antisocial nor having other traits of psychopathy or sociopathy. You don't have to be a murderer to be antisocial and caring about the lives of others doesn't inherently mean you aren't antisocial. When you hear 'disregarding the rights of others' that doesn't pertain just to acts of abuse or violence but to the rejection of others' autonomy, their opinions and even their expertise in their own field.)

Anyway.

You kin to a character and a narrative that means something to you while disregarding or undermining another character—especially when that character breaks the mold of what fits your narrative.

It be like that sometimes.

Jason died at 15 and that is tragic, but the real tragedy is that when he returns he is stuck in a teenage temper tantrum the likes of which have never been seen. He's cold and calculating until something doesn't go his way and then he's lashing out and slamming doors. Except he's vigilante trained and has access to guns so his temper tantrum is realized in lives lost not new doors.

[covenofagatha]

The games we play

Rio Vidal x reader

When you get home after a long day of work, all you want is to spend some quality time with your girlfriend, but she's a little distracted playing video games

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: g!p Rio, bratty!reader, daddy kink, blowjob, sex

When you step into the elevator of your apartment building and press the button for the eighteenth floor, you can already feel half the tension from the day seeping out of your stiff limbs. 

Twelve hours of reading over contracts for your boss at one of the biggest law firms in the city has absolutely exhausted you—and you have an unfortunate ache in your back from sitting down for so long—and you just can’t wait to be home with your girlfriend. Despite the long day, you feel a flicker of heat in your stomach at the thought of her giving you some stress relief. 

The doors ding and open on your floor and you drag your feet against the carpet all the way to your apartment. You know the moment you get in, you’re just going to melt into Rio’s arms. 

Your girlfriend comes from money, her parents own an art gallery in New York, and spends her days painting and playing video games. She’s told you over and over again that you don’t have to work, that she’s more than happy to support you financially, but you do really like being a lawyer. 

Plus there’s no denying how worked up Rio gets when she comes to watch you in the courtroom. She says she goes crazy for your power, fully knowing that you’ll submit to her the second you get home. 

There’s nothing she loves more than putting you on your knees for her and then her jerking off onto your blazer. When she pulls out her credit card at the drycleaners to get her cum out of your suits, you swear you see her cock twitch. 

“I’m home,” you call out when you open the door and kick off your shoes. The kitchen light is on and there’s a box of Chinese food sitting on the counter with your name written on it. Your heart warms at Rio having dinner ready for you and you scarf down a few bites before going to find her. 

It doesn’t take long, because when you walk into the living room, she’s sprawled out on the couch, headset on, and focusing intensely on the television screen, where she’s playing one of her favorite video games. Her fingers rapidly press buttons on the controller and she moves her entire body the same way as her avatar on the screen and you snort fondly. You’ve never really understood the hype of video games so to watch your girlfriend be so absorbed in one is very amusing. 

She doesn’t even realize you’re home until you plop down on the sofa next to her, and even then she only spares you a glance and gives you a quick peck on the cheek before turning back to her game. 

“No, no, come on!” she exclaims, throwing a hand up and you have to duck out of the way. Her character falls to the ground with bullet holes in their chest. You sigh and take in her loose hair and green t-shirt and gray sweatpants and wonder just how long she’s been sitting here for. There’s an empty bottle of beer on the coffee table that her feet are resting on so at least she’s been drinking something. 

“Babe,” you say, gently shaking her arm. She looks at you out of the corner of her eye and you can hear people talking into her headset. 

“I’m almost done, doll,” she whispers and you slouch down. Being this close to her and breathing in her earthy perfume has your body growing warm and you eye her bulge through her pants. She shifts like she can feel you staring and your mouth starts to water. 

If she’s not going to pay attention to you and give you what you want, you’ll just have to take it. You slink off the couch and onto your knees and she looks down before raising an eyebrow. 

Rio covers the mouthpiece when you move her legs off the table and crawl between them so she can warn, “Be a good girl for daddy and let her focus,” without any of her friends that she’s playing with hear it.  

But you ignore her and grab onto her hips so you can pull her more down the couch, giving you better access to her covered cock. Rio swallows roughly and tries to focus, but when you rub your cheek against her length, she swears and you feel her cock twitch to life. 

“Work was really tough today, daddy,” you pout and begin to press open-mouthed kisses to her dick through the fabric. You look up at her with the doe-eyes that always make her weak and she makes a pointed effort not to give in. “I had to read so many contracts when all I could think of was you.” 

She’s starting to become hard and you circle your mouth around the tip before sucking and her hips jerk. When you pull back, the gray fabric is significantly darker on her pants from your saliva. 

“I just couldn’t wait to come home and be fucked be you,” you say wistfully. One of her hands drops down to rest on your head while you continue nipping at her cock through her sweats. You wonder if her friends can hear the muffled noises she’s making. 

There’s gunshots on the TV and she curses again before moving her hand on your head back to the controller. “You’re being distracting, doll,” Rio grits out and you smirk before toying with her waistband. She doesn’t put up a fight when you pull her pants down ever so slightly and reach into her boxers. She hisses when your skin touches hers and you take out her cock. You spit a dollop of your saliva onto her tip and she hisses. 

You run your tongue up along the underside and her body jerks. Rio isn’t fully hard yet, but it doesn’t take much to get her there—a few more licks and some mouthing at her tip, and her cock stands tall, already pinkening, with beads of precum gathering at the slit. You breathe in the musky scent and then exhale and your hot breath makes her shiver. 

Eyes flicking up to hers, you see that she’s still intently focused on her game so you slowly take the tip of her cock in your mouth and begin to bob your head up and down, never going too far down. Rio’s teeth sink into her bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the loud groan and you hear someone on the headset ask if she’s okay. You chuckle and the vibrations around her make her squirm desperately. 

The flush in her cheeks matches the color of her cock and you relax your throat before moving down further. Her head drops back onto the couch and another player swears and says her name. 

You come up for air, strands of spit connecting your lips to her cock that flops against her stomach. “Keep playing your game, daddy. I want you to win,” you rasp and her tongue presses against the inside of her cheek while she shakes her head. 

“Either way, you’re about to lose the ability to cum for a week,” she grumbles and you snicker before taking her cock back into your mouth. Her threats are usually always empty promises—all it takes is you begging and she can’t resist. Plus, she knows that it ends up being worse for her because you become a brat when she doesn’t touch you for any span longer than a day. And she can never abstain from teaching you a lesson. 

Swallowing around her cock, you get a thrill when she throbs in your mouth and lets out a muffled groan. You rub your tongue along the protruding veins and she thrusts up uncontrollably, shoving her cock down your throat and making you gag. 

“Fuck,” Rio spits out, and it’s hard to tell if it’s because of you or the game. The clicking of the controller buttons seems to be becoming more sporadic and you start to drive your mouth up and down her cock and she grunts lowly. You’re sure her friends have to be able to hear that—can they hear the choking sounds you’re making?

Your underwear gets wetter at the thought of them listening to you going down on her and your fingers twitch against her thighs, barely able to stop yourself from sliding a hand in your pants and touching yourself. 

Rio’s cock throbs again and you decide to suck on the tip while you stroke the base of her cock up to where your mouth is. The double stimulation makes her keen and she moves the microphone piece away from her so the sounds are muted. 

“God, you’re such a slut, aren’t you?” she taunts, more collected than you thought she would be. You suck harder and rub your tongue against her slit, more precum filling your mouth. She whimpers when you look up at her with wide eyes and her hazel ones are clouded with lust. “Daddy’s little slut?”

You nod and moan and your head starts to spin like you’re drunk on her. Your cunt is aching—you think you might be able to cum just from this. 

But it won’t be as good as it would be if her cock was inside you, so you pull back, gasping for air, and standing up. She cranes her neck to look around you at the TV and you almost roll your eyes. 

However, when you sultrily peel off your blouse that’s slightly wet with your spit, Rio can’t help but look at you. She bites her lip when you cup your breasts through your bra and nods when you unclasp it. Her hips jump when she sees your uncovered tits and another spurt of precum slips down her length. There’s no denying that your girlfriend is a tit girl. Rio’s fingers instinctively move on the controller, but her attention is solely on you. 

As it should be. 

You slide your pants down your legs, both of you ignoring how you almost lose balance, and she groans when she sees that you’re wearing the green underwear she loves so much. You tweak your nipples, coaxing them to harden, and then trace down your stomach sensually before dipping into your panties. 

Rio’s mouth falls open, movements stilling on the controller, when you show her the wetness glistening on your fingers. Her cock twitches again and spits precum on her shirt. You lick the wetness lasciviously and Rio gives you a pleading look before you take your underwear off too. 

Slick gets on your inner thighs when you step back over to the couch and then you straddle her legs and stroke her cock with your soaked underwear, coating her length with you. She’s completely forgotten about the video game and you can hear her friends furiously saying her name. 

And then you position your entrance right above her cock and take just the tip inside of you. Rio gasps, a slight sheen of sweat breaking out on her forehead, and you wrap your arms around her shoulders. 

“Finish the game, daddy,” you whisper before nipping at her earlobe, “then you can fuck me.”

She nods, all the color in her face pooling in her cheeks, and she holds the controller against your back. You slowly slide down her cock until she’s entirely sheathed inside you and you’re content to just sit there on her until she’s done playing. Her lean arms are holding you, her cock is steadily pulsing inside you, and her chin is resting on your shoulder—exactly what you need.

You keep waiting for her to be done, but it’s taking a lot longer than you thought it would and you’re getting impatient. Your cunt is clenching around Rio and you can feel your wetness leaking out onto her pants beneath you, but she is unfazed as she gets more immersed into the game. 

“Daddy,” you whine in her ear and she falters ever so slightly, “can you finish soon? I really need you to fuck me.” 

Her brows furrow and her jaw clenches but she doesn’t move. So you lift yourself off her cock, the emptiness gaping inside you, and then sit back down roughly, tearing a gasp from both of your throats. You roll your hips from side to side, heat building in you when her cock pulses and then you rut forward to get some pressure on your clit. Your moans are throwing her off and she keeps swallowing roughly. 

“I’m almost done, doll,” she says hoarsely, eyes flicking to meet yours with a pleading look in them, but you start to ride her anyway. Her cock fills you deliciously and your walls grip her each time you bounce back down and she hits your g-spot. Each time, you gasp breathily and her face twitches like it’s taking all of her energy not to give in. 

You swirl your hips, spelling out your name, and she sputters out a moan. Your head drops forward, face pressed into your neck, and you scrape your teeth against her jugular, panting against her pale skin. 

“Daddy, please,” you whimper and that’s what breaks her.  

With a growl, she throws the controller onto the chair next to the couch and rips off her headset, grips your hips tightly, and flips you over and to the side so that you’re laying down with her on top of you. She doesn’t miss a beat and begins thrusting inside you roughly, a loud moan tearing itself out of you. Tingles spread from your cunt to your lower back and up your spine and you arch up to get her in deeper. 

Rio clasps your throat with a hand while her other fingers dig into your waist and the pressure makes your head spin. It feels like you’re floating and the only thing you can do is babble incoherently. 

Your hands tug at the hem of her shirt and hike it up her back so you can feel her skin against yours. She’s hot to the touch and you’re sure you feel the same. 

Wet squelching sounds fill the room as she drives her cock over and over into you, never losing rhythm, and you’d be embarrassed if you weren’t being fucked out of your mind. 

Gunshots ring out on the TV and you hear her friends loudly cursing through the headset now on the floor and you clench at the realization that she didn’t even bother to finish the game. 

“Fuck,” Rio grunts, biting on your clavicle roughly. You gasp and buck your hips up and now her pace does stutter. She reaches down to circle your clit and you’re panting—you’re so close, the tension is building and it’s about to snap. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire and it only burns brighter when she moves down your chest to suck at your nipple. 

It goes right to your cunt as if there’s a livewire connecting them and you sob. “Daddy, I’m gonna—”

“Cum for me,” she orders roughly, nipping at your breast and giving you three hard thrusts before you fall off the precipice and explode with a loud, guttural moan. She keeps fucking you through it and it sends you straight into another orgasm while she lavishes your tits. 

It’s too much, the pleasure starts to fray your veins, and you push at her shoulders. 

She chuckles darkly but pulls out and moves up your body so now she’s straddling you, cock in hand. You feel your clit pulse despite the overstimulation as she begins to stroke herself frantically. 

You know what she needs, what she wants, and you push your boobs together and roll your nipples while still breathing heavily. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” Rio grunts and pitches forward, thick strands of cum shooting out and landing on your tits. You gasp at the warmth and she keeps fucking her hand, hips moving with the same steady, fast rhythm as she had when she was inside you, and she pumps out two more spurts of cum that dribble onto the pool on your chest. 

She doesn’t move from on top of you until her cock goes limp in her hand. You swipe your fingers through her mess and clean them off and Rio groans weakly as she gets off you and gently falls to the floor. 

“Did that make up for the tough day you had?” she asks, reaching up to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear. You laugh breathlessly, a little surprised that she even heard you say that. 

“It really did.” You lean off the couch and pucker your lips and she kisses you softly. “Although, I can’t believe you didn’t immediately start fucking me the moment I came in.” 

She scoffs affectionately. “I was playing my game!” 

Your eyes narrow. “Aren’t I much more fun to play with?” 

Rio rolls her eyes and snorts. “Of course you are, doll.” 

“So, next time—” She kisses you again to shut you up. 

You let her. 

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs @agathascoven1

[itsaintmebabe]

crawling back to you

summary: joel and the reader (sarah’s mother) are reunited twenty years after the outbreak

pairing: joel miller x f!nurse!reader

notes: i think joel just needs a big hug tbh, let me know if you guys like it! i would love to take any requests you have too! <3

September 26, 2003 – Austin, Texas

It was Joel’s birthday, and everything felt like it was falling into place.

The morning sun was already peeking through the kitchen windows, casting a soft golden glow over the room. You had spent the last half hour preparing breakfast, just the way Joel liked it—scrambled eggs with hot sauce, crispy sausage, toast. Simple, but it was the little things that made these rare moments together count.

Sarah was in her usual spot, helping you in the kitchen, as she always did. She had a way of making everything feel more alive, even in the world they were living in. The world was getting darker by the day, but mornings like this? You still had them.

You glanced at the clock—8:15 a.m. You had been looking forward to this all week. The three of you together, just for a bit, before the chaos of the day pulled everyone in different directions.

Then the phone rang.

You wiped your hands on your apron as you picked it up. The hospital.

"Hi, y/n. We need you in the ER right away. We’re short-staffed, and things are getting worse by the minute. Can you come in?”

You froze. You weren’t supposed to be on shift today. It was Joel’s birthday, for God’s sake. But you knew the drill. The hospitals were always desperate for extra hands. And you knew, deep down, you couldn’t ignore the call.

You glanced at Joel, who had been staring at the phone, his face tightening. He didn't have to say anything. You could already tell he was disappointed. He had been holding onto the hope that today would be a rare day when he had you to himself.

“I’ll be there in twenty,” you said quietly, already grabbing your jacket.

Joel stood, his brows furrowed. He wanted to argue, but he didn’t. He understood. The world was on the edge of collapse, and people needed help. But there was a pang of guilt in his eyes that made you hesitate for a moment.

Sarah looked up from her seat, her voice quieter than usual. “Mom, you’ll be back in time for dinner, right? We’ll have your surprise ready.”

You forced a smile. “Of course. I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

It was a lie. You didn’t know if you’d be back. You never knew anymore.

Joel kissed your forehead softly before you stepped out the door, his words lingering in the air, “Be careful.”

────୨ৎ────

September 26, 2003 – Austin Memorial Hospital

The moment you arrived at the hospital, you knew something was terribly wrong.

The usual hustle of the ER had been replaced by chaos. The hallways were full of people—patients with high fevers, delirious, some bleeding from strange bites. The air was thick with tension. You rushed through the sliding doors into the ER, your medical instincts kicking in, but the sight that greeted you was worse than anything you had ever prepared for.

The nurses were running back and forth, some of them already covered in blood. Doctors were trying to stabilize patients who were turning on them, bodies jerking, eyes wild with a hunger you couldn’t understand.

A nurse caught your eye as you ran to the supply closet. “We need help in trauma, now!” She was breathless, and her hands were shaking as she handed you gloves.

There was no time for questions. You just followed orders, working quickly, the hum of panic filling the air around you.

Then it happened. The first patient who wasn’t just sick, but something else. She stopped breathing, and the next thing you knew, she was attacking the staff, biting, clawing, her body contorting in ways that were unnatural.

“Shit,” one of the doctors muttered, backing away in horror.

You stepped back, horrified as the woman lunged at the next nurse, tearing into them like a feral animal. The sound of flesh tearing, the cries for help, it all became a blur.

“Get to the exit!” someone shouted, but it was too late. The chaos had already spread. The infected were everywhere. No one knew how to stop them.

You tried to help the injured, trying to keep everyone calm, but the situation spiraled out of control faster than anyone could comprehend. Within hours, the hospital was in ruins, and you found yourself running—escaping through hallways that once offered safety but now felt like a death sentence.

Your radio buzzed, a crackling voice telling everyone to evacuate immediately. You grabbed your medical bag, ready to run, but it felt like you were running through a nightmare.

The streets were no better. The air was thick with sirens, people screaming, and the distant sound of gunfire. You didn’t know where to go. You didn’t know if you’d ever see Joel or Sarah again.

────୨ৎ────

Twenty Years Later – Jackson, Wyoming

Joel didn’t believe in ghosts.

But when he saw you standing there, alive and breathing after all these years, he was forced to reconsider.

It was the same feeling he got when the world fell apart—the sudden rush of disbelief. His heart was beating so fast, he could hear it pounding in his ears. He had seen people he loved die. He had buried them. And you? He had buried you in his mind a long time ago, convinced you were gone.

And now, standing there in front of him, you were real.

He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. He felt like the floor was falling away beneath him.

"Joel," your voice was cracked, full of a pain that matched his own.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. It was the kind of silence that spoke volumes—years of grief and longing, each moment stretching far beyond the seconds between you now.

He tried to move, tried to speak, but all he could do was stare, wide-eyed and shaking. “How... How are you—alive?”

You took a step closer, your hand reaching for him, but he recoiled instinctively. Not because he didn’t want you near, but because the years of loss, of uncertainty, had hardened him. He didn’t trust the reality of what was happening.

“I was in Austin. The outbreak... the hospitals were chaos.” You trailed off, struggling to hold back tears. “I tried to find you, Joel. I looked for you. I thought I was the only one left. I thought I... I lost you both.”

Joel closed his eyes, trying to steady himself. His voice was tight, like a pressure was building in his chest. “You’re here now. That’s... that’s all that matters.”

“No,” you said, shaking your head, your voice almost a whisper, “It’s not. I thought about you every single day. I don’t know how I survived it. But I kept thinking about you, thinking about Sarah, about what we were going to do... if I ever made it out.” Your voice trembled, the weight of the years pressing on you.

Joel took a long, shuddering breath, closing the space between you and pulling you into a tight hug. The emotion, the relief, the grief—it all hit him at once. His arms tightened around you like he was afraid you’d disappear again.

“I should’ve... I should’ve come for you. I should’ve found you,” he whispered against your hair, guilt flooding his veins. “I didn’t know, I thought you were—”

“You couldn’t have known. I know that, Joel.” You pulled back slightly, your hands resting on his chest, your eyes full of sorrow but also something else—something like understanding. “You didn’t stop thinking about me, did you?”

“No. I never did.”

There was no more space between you now, no more distance, just the sound of your breaths, both of you trying to breathe in the reality of it. Joel had been so sure he was alone, that he had lost everything. But here you were. Alive.

“I never stopped thinking about you, either,” you whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek.

Joel pressed his forehead to yours, the grief in his eyes just as raw as your own. For a moment, it was just you and him, the world outside crashing in on itself, but it didn’t matter. Not now.

You had found each other. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

The years had shaped both of you, molded you into something new, but the pain didn’t go away. There was still so much lost, so much to mourn. But for now, you were together. And in a world like this one, that was a victory all on its own.

[l0relaii]

Like we see android’s sometimes removing their skin for a sign of affection. So like what if Connor is constantly removing his skin when he touches reader because he loves her so much.

OHHH THAT MAKES SENSEE oh my god this is so cute thank you for sending another ask anon, usually i don't get anything back when i ask for details <3

i imagine that connor wants to feel as human as possible after he deviates and he meets you

in his mind he can get closer to you and he can learn to understand and love you by pretending to be human and hiding all of his android traits, like removing his skin

then he falls in love with you and he learns to accept that he is an android

and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that, although it takes him some time to understand that

you love and accept him just the way he is, he does not need to hide any part of him from you

so he slowly starts getting more comfortable as time passes

he's seen markus doing the skin removing thing with north a few times

and he unconsciously did it with you while caressing your thigh one night when you were relaxing on your couch beside him

you noticed it, and it startled you a bit because you've never seen him doing that before

he felt you moving under his touch and he noticed you heart beat quickened

then he saw his hand and he understood your reaction

"i am so sorry, i did not mean to do that, i didn't even realize it happened-"

"does it hurt?"

".. what?"

"you just removed the skin on your hand connor, doesn't it hurt?"

then he understood that you weren't scared by him, you were concerned for him

"no, it doesn't"

"then i don't mind you doing it"

"are you sure?"

"of course i am"

then he just started doing it everytime he touched you

if he caressed, poked or pinched your skin, it didn't matter, he still did it because he felt closer to you in that way

[willowcried]

ENTRE CANÍBALES!

you’re not sure how’d you ended up with shauna like this… again. it was the third time this month and you were not proud of your lack of self control. she sure as hell was.

her cold fingertips ghosted down your spine, and you shivered despite yourself. you clutched her shoulders tighter, as if holding onto her would make any of this more stable, more okay. coming to your senses momentarily, you pulled away in an attempt to catch your breath. “we shouldn’t be doing this.”

shauna barely let you finish the sentence before chasing after your lips, pressing her body flush against yours.

“why not?” she murmured between open mouthed kisses.

why not? because you had lottie. because lottie would never do this to you. because she believed in you, believed in something, like that meant anything at all. and shauna didn’t believe in shit.

nevertheless, you kissed her back, you let her take off your shirt and you took off hers. “shauna—” you weakly tried.

“don’t ‘shauna’ me like you’re any better. i’m not forcing you to do anything.”

oh, how you hated her guts.

but you might hated yours more for letting her get away with hers everytime. “you said that last time.”

“and you said last time would be the last time.”

her mouth tasted like guilt and something darker. not quite hate and let alone love. it was something worse.

maybe it was just hunger.

she bit your lip as she pulled away, smiling when you winced. she liked hurting you just enough. you liked it too.

“oh, baby, why you lookin’ at me like that for? are you mad or flustered?”

you inhaled sharply, the sound catching in your throat. baby. she used to call you that all the time—softly, lazily, like it belonged to you, like she wasn’t going to rip it away the second things got hard. yo should’ve expected it, should’ve seen it coming, and yet it still burned.

“you don’t get to call me that anymore.” you snapped her against the tree so quickly it startled even you, your eyes widening at the audacity. the nerve of her, to say it like it meant nothing. like it wasn’t a wound she’d left open. “you’re such an idiot.”

she scoffed, head tilting as her smirk deepened. “and what does that make you?”

you could say it made you weak. a liar. a disappointment.

but that wasn’t the full truth, was it?

the truth was that it made you hers.

it was in the way her teeth scraped against your jaw, her hands gripping your ribs like she wanted to feel the crack beneath her fingers. It was in the way she knew you—knew that you’d come back, knew that your body would betray you before your mind could even try to resist.

you wanted to rip her apart. you wanted to press your teeth into her shoulder and see how deep you could go before she bled. you wanted her to sink her nails into your back, leave marks that wouldn’t fade. you wanted to consume her in a way that wasn’t just metaphorical.

you knew she wanted the same.

because lottie was warmth, faith, a guiding hand. shauna was none of those things, and neither were you. you were something else entirely, something gnawing and desperate and ugly, and shauna understood that.

you didn’t have to explain it to her. she was the same.

“you gonna run back to her after this?” she whispered, her voice almost sweet, if not for the ragged breathing. “gonna let her kiss you with my teeth still on your skin?”

you should’ve pushed her away. should’ve gotten up, walked out, left her to rot in her own cruelty.

instead, you gripped her jaw, forcing her to look at you with gritted teeth. she smiled.

“shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

shauna kissed you like she wanted to devour you, her teeth scraping over your bottom lip, her nails dragging down your back, leaving welts you’d have to explain later. you shuddered at the sting, at the way she pressed her body against yours like she was trying to burrow under your skin.

it was always like this with her—needy, desperate, almost violent.

she hooked a leg around your waist, rolling her hips against yours, and you could feel her pulse racing just as fast as yours. your hands roamed over her bare skin, fingertips pressing hard enough to bruise, to brand. maybe you wanted her to wear them later, hidden under her clothes like a secret, like proof that she was yours even if neither of you ever said it out loud.

and fuck, she was.

[pennyold]

honeymoon | j.m

Summary: When your husband wakes you up late at night so that you can please and help him with his hard problem underneath his underwear.

Warnings: p n v, suggestive language, cursing, pregnancy mention, older husband!joel, and I think that’s all; If I miss something, just lemme know!

w.c: 1,111

a/n: I wanna marry him so bad, and also I love that pic of him. Idgaf about the woman who is touching him (I’m literally so jealous) anyways. no proofreading!! Hope u like it, enjoyyy it!!

main masterlist ↲

peace and love, penny ★

We were out of town; we got married two days ago in Cozumel, Mexico. We loved the Mexican beach and the traditions. Joel loved to travel, and he wanted to get married on the beach; that's why we're here.

It's our honeymoon, and both families are still at the resort, so we decided to take our own space. That is to say, we were in our room most of the day, simply going to the beach in the afternoon and eating out of the room every now and then.

Joel was like a piece of gum stuck to me; he couldn't stay away from me. It's not a complaint; I love it when he bombards me with his affection. One night, I woke up at 2:00 am, and he woke me up, "Darling..." I murmured, and I let out some incoherent words, half-asleep, turning my head towards him with my eyes still closed, "What...?" I said softly, suddenly feeling him start to rub his body against mine, "Joel..." then he kissed my neck, whispering in my ear: "I need you, princess" he rubbed his heavy breath on my neck and made my whole body feel warm "Mmh" I moaned softly, moving my hips against his crotch, noticing his bulge "I'm so hard, would you help me?" Joel whispered, rubbing his hard cock against my ass.

Now, wake up, I touched his bulge feeling his cock, hard and thick. Then I squeezed it, and he groaned, "Shit." Joel took my shirt, pulling the hem up towards the top of my chest, exposing my breasts. "I love your tits, a lot," I smiled. "Yeah?" Do you like them? He nodded, breathing into my neck: "I could touch them every day and never get tired." With that, my stomach tightened, feeling how my pussy clenched tighter and tighter.

Slowly, he took off my shorts, pushing my panties aside. "This pussy, I love how it welcomes me so well," he said, sliding his middle finger through my folds, reaching my clit. I moaned, writhing on his chest. "Joel..." he silenced me, caressing my hard nipples that cried out to be pinched. "I know, darling." I took his covered cock and squeezed it gently. "Alright," he understood and pulled his cock out of his sweatpants. "Will you let me fuck this pretty cunt?" I nodded. "But first I'll dilate it, I need it to be completely wet for me," I explained, rubbing her finger on my clit. I moaned in response, as I couldn't even form a coherent sentence. I opened my legs, letting him touch me, feeling how he tickled my part.

I moaned, moving my hips back, Joel intensified his movements and a low sound from my wet pussy echoed in the small room. "Do you hear that?" I nodded, moaning, "Shit..." Joel shook his head, pulling his fingers out of my pussy, and in seconds I felt the tip of his cock brushing against my entrance. "Ready?" I nodded desperately, spreading my legs wider, but he turned me around, pressing my chest against the mattress with him on my back. "Lift that ass, darling." I obeyed, lifting it for him. "That's right, what a beautiful sight." I tried to look at him, but he didn't waste any time and thrust his cock into my pussy.

I complained, gripping the sheet tightly, muffling my loudest noises, but I couldn't resist and shouted loudly: "Quiet! you want the neighbors to find out that we're fucking, don't you?" I'm not going to lie, but deep down, it excites me. I have always fantasized about others hearing how well I'm being fucked. "Naughty girl," he smiled, sliding his cock inside me again, my inner walls tightened around him, eliciting a groan from his throat. "Shit, keep squeezing me..." he couldn't finish his sentence before I squeezed him again "Damn it," thinking I had upset him, I turned my head to look at him, but he grabbed my hair with his fist and pulled it.

"Ugh," I choked on the unexpected movement, feeling my neck twist back. Joel's rhythm became abrupt, and more so, my body writhed, feeling my climax so close. "Oh God, I'm going to cum," he mocked my pathetic plea, laughing in my ear. "You'll come when I say so," I moaned loudly, gripping the sheets tightly. "Can't you wait? Uh?" I shook my head, hiding my face in the pillows "I want to cum, please" he didn't say a word, he just thrust into me over and over again.

My pussy couldn't take it much longer, "Let me cum, please!" I said desperately, his cock brushing against my inner walls as if there were no tomorrow, its tip dilating and getting bigger inside me, so the hard thrusts became more delicious and tighter, I wanted to come as quickly as possible. "You can cum, darling," I lifted my ass towards his pelvis, covering his cock with my sticky juices, some of them dripping from my pussy, staining the sheets. "Ready to be filled? Or... do you want to suck it and feel your juices, sweetheart?" he asked me, pulling my hair and making me look at the wall, "Answer" I closed my eyes thinking about the best option, but I was so messed up that I couldn't even decide properly. "Fill me up," he smiled while stroking my hair, "You want to get pregnant, don't you?" My ears were so messed up that I couldn't hear him properly, so I nodded as I received his white spasms. His semen covered my inner walls, warming them and filling them deliciously. "So good..." I moaned, letting my body fall onto the mattress, exhausted.

But then I noticed that Joel wasn't saying a word, not even moving. "Joel?" Finally, I turned my head to look at him, and his eyes were looking at me, but a kind of darkness appeared in them. "Honey?" I called, holding his face with both hands. "Would you get pregnant with me?" I smiled, hugging him. "Yes! Of course I would, now you are my husband, I would get pregnant whenever we wanted" he hugged me, wrapping his body around mine "I love you so much" he lifted his body so we could be pressed together, but we could still see each other's faces "I would always support you, no matter what, don't forget that" I nodded while kissing his cheek. "I would never do that. I love you."

After what happened, I found out I was late on my period, so I took a pregnancy test. A bit nervously, I turned the package over and it said: you are pregnant.

[low1key]

: ̗̀➛ALICE IN BORDERLAND

SHUNTARO CHISHIYA ———————————————————

about Chishiya, since the show watered him down ;p he actually was kind of heartless and never understood the concept of life and wasn't interested in it either. so if you're mad at someone for saying "awful" things he would have do, you're probably the one mischaracterizing him In his backstory (manga-based only), we learn that he was born into a family with no love and affection. his parents never showed interest in him; they only cared about work—actually, that much—that even if they didn't love each other anymore, they pretended to be happy so the hospital where the father worked—his father was the hospital head—wouldn't get into any scandals. chishiya basically grows up in a family with no feelings, and since he never got to know them, he still doesn't know them to this day. he wanted to check if he could feel anything by starting to work in his father's hospital as a student. he wanted to know if he could feel compassion toward any of the patients and if that would help him find an interest in life; guess what, it didn’t help, then he kind of gave up on himself and looking for any sense in life or finding a good in himself

but there was one thing that interested him since he was a child: it was the Mona Lisa painting. we see him looking at it, stating that he couldn't look away and that "everyone wants to be seen for who they are"; it is a reference to his history in various ways. first, the painting, in one of its meanings, is a visual representation of happiness. looking at what he said, it could be interpreted as him referring to his family, who are actually just pretenders and are "painted" happy. the second meaning refers to him, as he always felt different from others and viewed emotional people as stupid. because of that, other people couldn't understand him; he reminded himself of the painting when he tells arisu he just wanted someone to understand him. he said the Mona Lisa, in one theory, has been said to be Da Vinci himself dressed as a woman—which refers to people actually not knowing Da Vinci, just as people do not actually know and understand him.

in Borderland, his first game was 6 of Diamonds - a blackjack. there we could see how intelligent and observant he actually is. he never gambled before and was not only able to pick up the rules through observation but also invented a mathematical card counting method to decide how to bet. other players there couldn’t understand how a young man like him could act so calm and unbothered, but he simply had no concept of living and didn't care if he died or not. from the beginning, he only "helped" others when he saw they might be useful—that's why he helped Karube and gave him information about the beach since he was with Arisu, who he became interested in.

on the beach, he paired with Kuina, but they weren’t friends, as the show depicts; he had from the beginning planned to use her to steal the cards by himself when they were about to steal them together. he needed her to get closer to Arisu—to use him for his plan—he didn't care what was going to happen to them(arisu & usagi). kuina even asked him if he really didn't feel sorry at all, but of course, he doesn’t feel anything. Kuina later in the series even said she hates him just as much as she hates niragi 10 of hearts: after the start of the game, he leaves Kuina behind and is trying to kill Niragi; he says he's pissing him off since Niragi reminds him how awful he also is. both of them don’t care about other lives, killing and betraying them. Chishiya really hated niragi. he knew there was something wrong with him, but he couldn’t change and gave it up already in his backstory. he wants niragi dead so he won’t have to face the thought of how evil he actually is. also, when he learns Arisu is alive, he doesn’t try to solve the game; he knows Arisu will do it and that he doesn’t need to interfere. especially when it’s a heart game, he may be pretty good at them, but he doesn’t really like them since he isn’t good with emotions and never really understood other people's minds.

King of diamonds: there, as usual, Chishiya couldn't care less about his life and gives Kuzuryu the option to kill him. as i said, he never had the concept of life and was only in the borderlands looking for something interesting, like, for example, his beloved Mona Lisa painting. unexpectedly, Kuzuryu decides to sacrifice himself for Chishiya, which actually makes him wonder—how do people decide to sacrifice for others? Why do they do that? He contemplates the concept of empathy. Kuzuryu's sacrifice was like a breaking point for Chishiya because, before, Arisu's will to help others interested him, but what Kuzuryu did for him made him actually think about changing.

Arisu and Niragi: when the shooting started, because of what i wrote above and Arisu's speech before Usagi appears, he decides to take Usagi's bullet. He wants to do something nice in return, something out of character—as he said. he wanted to know how it feels to help others, to do something for someone instead of for himself. he then expressed thoughts about the Mona Lisa, stating he only wanted someone to understand him, and it happened to be Arisu and Niragi. He was glad to meet them and told Arisu his existence was just to show how empty humans can be—“I understand,” he responded. he came to the conclusion that he probably never wanted to learn about others and/or emotions because he was too jealous of them to think of it, viewing them as stupid instead. summarizing all his character: he was selfish, lacking humanity, and disinterested in life. so why, after all, did he decide to go back to the real world and survived the shooting? because of Arisu, Usagi, and Kuzuryu, he finally found a reason to live - to slowly change and try to understand what is humanity - i think that moment - him finding a reason to live - was the most beautiful part of his character. they were his new Mona Lisa, making him interested and causing him to think just like the painting did before; it was what he searched for in the borderland.

[treasureyourfire]

~ Get a little rest ~

Dear Souls! A little later compared to my plans, but I brought you my New Year's Pick a Pile readings. The readings are timeless, find the post in the beginning months of any year (*or even in any month of a year), believe that you need it right then, of course only if it resonates with you. (*If you read it in June, for example, look at the past year going back to June of the previous year. ^^) I've noticed that the piles carry similar messages from certain areas of life, so you may be drawn to more than one image, and that's perfectly fine. Read them all, so if there is a message for you in more than one reading. Wish you the best, and take care! ^^ Arisa

Reminder:

* These are not gender-specific readings, they are about energies. * These are collective, timeless readings for entertaintment. * I am not a professional reader and readings that I do are a part of my learning process. * The tarot can provide guidance, but you manage your own life according to your free will. Feel free to keep what resonates, and let go of what doesn’t.~ * (English is not my mother language, sorry for the mistakes.)

Illustrations belongs to Kristin Askland

~ 1 ~

You can take a breath: What burden have you left behind in the past year: Five of Swords, Reversed Death, Reversed Ten of Wands, Temperance, Six of Wands, Magician, Page of Cups

Just thinking about the image I felt an unusual, intense resistance. At first I didn't know if the feeling was my own - because I was in a bad mood - or not, but then, when I started the reading, I understood that I felt your energy, dear Soul. You suffered such a loss, defeat or betrayal that you hid from the world with deep wounds. Maybe even from yourself. You wrapped yourself up like the kitty in your chosen picture. You were afraid to let change into your life, you closed yourself off, whether it was a change in external circumstances or your own internal transformation and development. Whether you wanted to survive or forget, I feel that you tried to remedy it by taking on more and more burdens the weight of which brought you to the brink of burnout, or maybe this collapse actually occurred. Maybe you buried yourself in work or a personal project, but it could also be that you didn't take on such a many burden of your own free will, but that your circumstances turned out that way. You couldn't grow under those so many burdens. Maybe you have been subconsciously or even intentionally hindering and sabotaging your own growth. A deep, personal transformation awaited you, which of course is often difficult, uncomfortable, and can be very much outside of our comfort zone, when we have to reshape our belief systems, our way of seeing things, and our attitude towards our situation and ourselves. Maybe this was meant to happen for you to some extent, a victory over the ego/subconscious. After many tense internal struggles, the time of ascension has finally arrived, the time to create a healthy balance in your life again. You've got room to develop again, and you've stepped onto the path that you can use to create harmony and peace. It's like you got your Mojo back. The fighting spirit has awakened in you. You embraced yourself, broadened your horizons, and now with more self-esteem, zest for life, more vitality, you switched to creation mode. Now you value yourself more, you have seen the treasures within you, and you are actively working on realizing your dreams to create the life around you that you really want. You have everything for it. The meeting your deeper self opened the door to self-love and new, happier beginnings.

You can rest: What helps you relax/gain strength the most? Page of Wands, Sun, Nine of Swords, Eight of Swords, Knight of Swords

Inspiration (making a mood board at the beginning of the year for example), creativity, dreaming, forms of self-expression. Art can be the best way to relax you right now, which can ease your anxiety. Returning to an old hobby, passion, any activity that filled you with joy when you were younger, or maybe starting something new that helps express yourself and self-realization. For some of you, a trip might mean relaxation, recharging in a sunny, warm place. There may still be holding back beliefs in your head, but don't let these ups and downs discourage you, you have time to heal. Fears, doubts, self-doubt cloud our vision, we get confused. Maybe you need to clear up these confusing thoughts and feelings. If you put them into form, it can be easier to examine and arrange them in yourself. In addition to art, because of the sword cards, I think communication can also help, either verbally or in writing, or if you examine yourself and your thoughts more consciously from a scientific perspective. Whether it's a person close to you, a support community, or a professional, it can help to share with someone what's weigh down your heart.  It is difficult for me to interpret the Knight of Swords in this context. This card usually encourages action and change, not rest. In this situation, it can mean that it is necessary to take the lead, break out of a situation, overcome ourselves, shake ourselves out of the waves of negative thoughts, face our fears and examine their origin. Behind these fears, our true self is waiting to break out. We often think things about ourselves that are not true at all, we don't see the reality, the truth, among the false assumptions. It is difficult to abstract and look at ourselves and our situation with external eyes.

*Note: There is a Youtuber named Thomas Sanders whose videos I have seen in the past and some of those at the time helped me see some things in a slightly different light. Through himself, in an entertaining guise, he reveals to us (I could say that he explains with logic as the Knight of Swords) the workings of a person's personality and mind. Maybe someone else who chose this picture needs this information so I wanted to mention it.

Plan your path: What will you need to the start? / What should you take with you on your path? Hermit Item in your bag: - The Hermit's Lantern

Introspection, stillness. Maybe you need to withdraw from the eyes of the world for a while in order to find your own inner light, the wisdom, the knowledge with which you can go towards a truer, more authentic life. The Hermit searches for answers in himself, he is developing and growing quietly, he only needs himself, he does not let the outside world influence him. The meditative retreat, the practice of your spirituality can become an important tool for you in the period ahead of you, you can find the path that leads to the fulfillment of your wish(es). Let your own inner star, which you keep in your lantern be your compass.

Encouraging/Inspiring message from your spirit guides: Queen of Cups, Reversed Queen of Pentacles

You've reached shore, you're over it. You may have been attracted to the second picture as well, and that reading may partly resonate with you, because it may convey a similar message about your emotional world and the need to take care of the health of your body and soul. It is important to ground yourself, to research grounding techniques and activities, to connect with nature, and to balance your elements, equalizing the proportions against the energies of many previous sword cards with air (mental) element. Observing walks in nature, yoga, craft hobbies, claying, making ceramics, gardening, spending time with animals, practicing living in the present, connecting with Mother Earth. Manage and care your emotions and feelings consciously and don't forget to nourish and care for your body. Pay attention to your health. Nutritious meals, quality rests. A lot of anxiety also weakens the physical body, listen to its signals about what it needs. Take care of your heart, water your garden to gain strength and have the energy to create, to shape your life around you as an artist.

~ 2 ~

You can take a breath: What burden have you left behind in the past year: Queen of Cups

The inner turbulent sea has calmed down, your emotions have become clear, uncertainty has been replaced by stability, clear vision, awareness, and understanding. You already look at your own emotional world with different eyes, you have better understanding about how it works. You have studied yourself, the triple relationship of your thoughts-feelings-actions, as a result of which you have gained a deeper understanding and self-knowledge of yourself, and in the future you will try to handle different life situations and challenges more efficiently and consciously. You take care of yourself and your needs, you have become more understanding and compassionate to yourself and you are already showing more love to yourself.  By the time you reached shore, you realized your own values, you found your inner voice, now you can finally breathe again.

You can rest: What helps you relax/gain strength the most? Queen of Pentacles

Treat yourself like a queen/king. It's time to relax and enjoy earthly pleasures. Taking care of yourself, giving attention to yourself can help you now the most to rest after the toils of the past year. In moderation, but get your favorite comfort foods or pay attention to your health and eat foods that nourish your body, if that resonates with you more. Any form of grounding and connection with nature can also embalm your soul. It can be any activity that relax you, in which you find joy, e.g.; creative projects, baking and cooking, claying, making ceramics, gardening, yoga. Maybe pamper yourself for a few days with a wellness or spa program, beautification, if you prefer this type of relaxation.  Have a pampering intimate time with your partner or with yourself if you are single. Quality rest is important, enjoy, don't rush it. In all of its being (regardless of gender) I feel feminine (including possibly parental) energies from this pile, during this period it may be important for someone to connect to this gentle, caring quality, whether they practice it only towards themselves or by spending time with their partner, children, family.

Plan your path: What will you need to the start? / What should you take with you on your path? Reversed Empress Item in your bag: - Selflove potion

As soon as the Queen of Pentacles appeared, it was as if I felt the presence and essence of the Empress together with her. Strongly feminine, caring energies surround this pile. However, when this card arrived in reverse, I was a bit confused. Even with the Queen of Pentacles, I felt that self-care was emphasized, the Empress has similar energies in a basic situation, I don't think you should take that away from yourself after you managed to recharge. Indeed. Perhaps this is exactly the point, that you continue to pay attention to yourself and take care of yourself first before you do it with others, maintain your inner balance. (Of course, if you are a parent, priorities and balance are usually are rearranged, but don't forget about yourself, your own well-being, and ask for help if you need it and have the opportunity.) Perhaps it also refers to your relationship with others, to pay attention to how much of yourself you give to others and not to shred yourself to please everyone at all costs. It is a wonderful quality of you to care about others and be always there when they need you, but unfortunately this can have the shadowside of giving too much of yourself, consuming all your energy until you have no more to yourself. You love being a mother hen. ^^ Maybe you have taken on tasks for which others should have taken responsibility and solved them. This burnt-out or possibly frustrated state also hinders the development of your creative energies. It may be necessary to set those certain boundaries and not allow others to cross them, taking advantage of you, your altruism and generosity. I feel the main message is to love yourself enough to take care of your own needs first and not get stuck in harmful, destructive emotional addictions.

Encouraging/Inspiring message from your spirit guides: Star, Reversed Three of Cups

For me, the message got around with this advice. Dreams, healing, wishes, goals. Your spirit guides ask you to move forward towards your dream goals. You have heard a higher calling, you have taken the first steps, and your life is slowly starting to take the shape of your desires. Healing, growth, following our life path sometimes go hand in hand with loneliness, but don't let that discourage you. You should let go of fake/superficial friends/relationships, who don't treat you well and don't support you on your way, let them go. "It's better to be alone than in bad company." If they don't represent your ideas of what kind of relationships you need in your life, they hold you back in your development and they are toxic or disrespectful, breaking these relationships can be the beginning of healing and can give you space to later find true partners who really deserve and reciprocate your care and sincere love.

~ 3 ~

You can take a breath: What burden have you left behind in the past year: Reversed Ten of Cups

Relationship problems, toxic relationships/environment, people with low emotional intelligence, hopelessness, lack of love and happiness. Although you were physically surrounded by others, you felt lonely among them. You have been searching your place, where you belong. One-sidedness, overgiving may have characterized your relationships, which did not make you happy or nourish you, but now you have managed to break the chains. Maybe you have been wandering alone for a while looking for your soul tribe, where you will be supported and finally feel loved.

You can rest: What helps you relax/gain strength the most? Reversed Three of Pentacles, Eight of Wands, Magician

Sometimes it's good to withdraw from social life for a longer or shorter period of time (perhaps we pause our studies or don't immediately go back to school after finishing our courrently last course) to be alone, to clear our minds and figure out who we are and what we really long for without competing with others. For this, there are people who travel far away, or even move to a new place, where they can heal, and later, when they feel ready, in the new community there they can start with a clean sheet. Of course, this does not mean that traveling is the solution for everyone who chose this picture, but it is certain that moving forward is necessary, keeping your future in front of your eyes. Let your plans to spear, focus on your own individual goals for faster development and progress. All tools are at your disposal to bring your plans to life. Perhaps you received a message or an offer in the recent past period or you will receive it recently, which may hold out a new opportunity to you or inspire you, reminding you that it is time to get moving and put your ideas into shape. If you need it, unleash your creativity, live your passions and hobbies that you have suppressed or put aside for a while. The period of creation may begin.

Plan your path: What will you need to the start? / What should you take with you on your path? Wheel of Fortune, King of Cups, Three of Cups, Two of Cups, Knight of Cups, Sun, Seven of Cups, Eight of Swords Items in your bag: - A feather of a cedar waxwing - A seashell with the sound of your deep inner sea

Let the feather of this pretty bird reminds you on your journey that you were and are able to rise above difficulties and to keep your good heart. Your karma turns for the better. Your empathetic, giving nature is treasure. You are a good friend who enjoys spending time with others and sharing your emotional and earthly abundance with them, but it is important to maintain a balance. Reciprocity. Make sure that in your relationships you get back as much as you give. Stay aware, see who is worth letting close to you, who can become a true friend/ally, and who is only beautified by filters. Don't let others dim your light, don't give in to deceptions and manipulations. From now on, be the protagonist in your life, shine at its center, like the Sun in our solar system. Maybe the Knight of Cups can also points to make room for romance in your life, let these feelings in if that's what you want. If there is no one who would arouse your interest, be your own suitor, romanticize yourself, your life. Be open to opportunities for more emotional growth and development. Trust your emotional maturity. If a situation still confuses you and shakes your self-confidence, think about what is just a mind game or a delusion, either on your part or on the part of others. Examine your options, which one is the rational decision/available choice for you. Of course, it is often difficult for us to rise above our traumas and fears. Check how real your barriers are. If you don't see the truth at first, you are unsure of what is good for you, which is your path, try to calm down, raise the seashell to your ear and listen to what your inner voice wispering to you.

Encouraging/Inspiring message from your spirit guides: Reversed Ten of Swords, Reversed Hanged Man, Reversed Four of Cups, Reversed Six of Wands, Reversed Ace of Swords, High Priestess, Devil

You are over the biggest challenge, a difficult period has come to an end for you. You have awakened to awareness, and this enlightenment brought a healthier view of yourself and your situation, and initiated you on a more energetically balanced path. Your spirit guides say those who hurt you were not worthy of being part of your life anymore, their betrayal brought you a blessing in the long run, even if you don't feel that way at this moment. Your spirit guides want to help you, but for that you have to do your side too, take action and look for opportunities where you can develop and grow. Clear your thoughts. They ask you to learn from the challenges of the past and turn your experiences to your advantage, rebuilding your self-confidence and regaining your fighting spirit, and think things extensively before making important decisions. Maybe you practiced communicating with them in the past, but you've been holding back for a while? (Re)open the channel between you and them and ask for their help or advice for clarity, if you have doubts, if something is blocking your intuition. The Devil card can reveal addictions that chain you down, hinder your development (even spiritually), prevent you from fulfilling yourself and truly live your life. It may be important to question your beliefs and gain a deeper understanding of your spiritual path. This requires introspection and questioning of existing beliefs. It encourages you to dig deeper into your spiritual questions to seek a deeper and more nuanced understanding of your spiritual journey. Start trusting your inner wisdom and intuition. Stay aware of your negative thoughts, temptations, and fears that can derail you. In terms of your relationships, it can be important too to examine your attachments. What pattern do you cling to, what is toxic, what wasn't healthy in your previous relationships, be it in family, friendship, or romantic relationship.

[imhoser]

The day is finally here...

My favorite chapters of Dr. Stone have been animated!

I'm so glad anime-onlys finally get to see these chapters.

I'll talk a little more about why these chapters matter a lot to me under the cut, specifically more about Xeno's character. I've been able to digest these chapters for almost 5 years, so I would say I am a certified Xeno expert. I'd read it if you want to understand Xeno's character more, it'll make his future actions make more sense to y'all.

Don't worry, there's no spoilers.

The most important aspect of Xeno's character is who he was before, who he was when he first met Senku. Xeno wasn't born a bad person, he became one over time, as he grew up he felt like his dreams were taken from him. He always had some authoritarian tendencies, but those tendencies were brought forth the more he became shackled by authority.

His true passion is science, all of his wants are motivated by his selfish drive to do as much science as possible, no matter the financial and ethical barriers.

Xeno first met Senku when he was 10, Xeno being 20-21. They were online friends for 9 years, so they both got to see each other grow up.

Senku's drive to save humanity was instilled in him because he rejected Xeno's crumbling ethics. His trip to Africa, his studying biology and topics far beyond rocket science, was because he knew people like Xeno posed a threat to humanity. He knew he would have to counter mad scientists from a very young age.

Xeno and Senku are meant to be mirrors of each other, this shows in Xeno's design. I will say I am very proud because I figured this out years ago before Boichi (the manga artist of Dr. Stone) confirmed it several days ago.

Both Xeno and Senku represent the quest for knowledge by oneself because they feel like nobody will be as passionate while carrying the torch. Xeno decided to become a dictator because he felt like he could be the only one willing to sacrifice morality for the sake of human scientific progress, while Senku felt like he could be the only one willing to do everything possible to save every human on Earth.

(Notice the difference in their eyes, Xeno's don't shine. This becomes more important symbolically later. This theme is brought up again and again.)

In summary, Xeno is a passionate person who lost all hope in humanity because of the barriers that were placed in front of him. He is arrogant, controlling, and has sinister motivations.

Senku is the scientist of light, while Xeno is the scientist of the dark. Senku is selfless, Xeno is selfish. Senku studied science in the hopes of progressing science at the benefit of everyone, while Xeno studied science in the hopes of progressing science at the benefit of himself - his curiosity.

As I've grown up alongside Dr. Stone, I've noticed the shift in my own character. I love Dr. Stone because it is all about wanting to learn as much as possible. I find that very relatable. Like Senku, I loved reading books on quantum theory and chemical biology when I was little - although I was like Taiju, I rarely understood it. But I continued to read regardless because I just wanted to know everything, I was and am endlessly curious.

I found myself relating to Senku after I first caught up to Dr. Stone in January 2020, but over time I have begun to understand Xeno further - most people are not curious. They feel no passion for learning more and the importance of building upon existing human knowledge, even if it could help many. Sometimes we need great, powerful people, to drive humanity forward even at the cost of one's moral character.

[tunastime]

learn a little, get a little

happy (late, oops!) valentines! one of my good friends helped me churn up an idea for the heart day itself (a normal day for me and the lads, but a fun day nonetheless), and we settled on SEN ranchers <3 enjoy... the mess they are

in which Jimmy tries to come up with a brilliant and foolproof plan to ask Tango if he wouldn't mind trying something new with him. despite the word foolproof, Jimmy is, in fact, the fool. (1835 words)

Jimmy paces the length of his room. 

He's on off shift. He'd started work at 4am ship’s time and taken his mandatory rest period at 3pm ship’s time and set himself as off duty. It was quite the productive shift, too. And, he'd actually managed to snag Tango today for their meal period at noon ship’s time.

Tango would be gone for another hour and a half, though, so it would be approximately that long until Jimmy saw him again. Which was fine. because Jimmy was absolutely having a crisis that Tango did not need to see. 

He wasn't panicking—not really. The joy of finally having a proper emotional regulator meant he spent less of his time panicking and more of his time anxious, which, despite the similar strain on his central processor and its fans, was easier to solve, and easier to work himself through to a proper solution. Which explained why he tracked the same space of molded flooring until he felt like the joints in his hips were starting to hurt.

Tango was a lot of things, and special to Jimmy was right up there on the top of the list. He was also smart, and kind, and observant, and as much of a fan of physical touch as Jimmy was. He liked to press himself into the slot of his side when they took rest periods together, and he liked to hold to the inside of Jimmy's elbow, or put his hand on the small of his back, or lace their fingers together. And even with his friends, he liked to follow right at their shoulder, or lean into their personal space to listen to them, or clap their shoulder. He liked the tactile sensation of people, even if the affection wasn't necessarily romantic, or any sort of affectionately-coded at all. It wasn't an emotion Tango felt; the fringes of happy, neutral resting, bubbling anger, the starts of understanding, left over from Jimmy's influence? Absolutely. Anything else? Not so much. 

Tango didn't love him, and that wasn't, never was, the problem. He loved Tango, and Tango adored him in a way very particular to Tango, and liked to learn and touch him and hold him and listen to his wants and needs. Tango pulled Jimmy into his arms and let him sink his head into his neck, curled his hands in his hair and stroked down his back. He understood him. Watched media with him. Learned to laugh because of him.

Jimmy squeezes his eyes shut, chest rolling with turbulent feeling. Unease and anxiety, flickers of affection. He wanted to give Tango something new and different, some new sensation and task to learn, some new way to be tactile with him. But it was so romantic. And he was worried, drawing his cheek between his teeth, that Tango wouldn't like it.

If Jimmy was being honest, he had only just learned about it a few weeks prior. They'd been watching one of Jimmy's favorite historical dramas, absorbed silently in the mediocre acting and subpar effects. It was something so very human of those characters, something Jimmy realized, with a sudden and startling rush of want so strong he had to press his face into the warm rise of Tango's shoulder in front of him (and Tango had chuckled and ran his fingers through Jimmy's hair), that he wanted to do.

Jimmy wants to kiss him. He just doesn't know how to ask.

And now Tango will be back in an hour.

Jimmy folds his arms and starts to pace again, feeling his hip joint slot back into place. An hour was more than enough time to daydream any sort of scenario where he actually succeeded in making the words come out of his mouth. It would also be an ample amount of time to determine what he would say after he asked Tango. Because, aside from mustering the courage to say something as simple and nerve-wracking as how do you feel about kissing, he also had to figure out what he would say if Tango said I don’t like it, or worse: sounds good.

Sounds good. Sounds good? Is that really what he thought Tango sounded like? Jimmy presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, and though there’s no real sensation of pressure, the very human outlet of energy makes his secondary processor fans kick on, so he doesn’t need to take a long, sharp, cooling breath to feel like his head is still screwed on straight. Focus. Focus.

If he said: Tango, how do you feel about kissing? And Tango said: I think it sounds fine, Jimmy supposes he’ll have to ask him if he’d want to try it some time. And by some time maybe he meant that day. Or now. An hour from now, since obviously Tango wasn’t here, but now in the little, mental simulation he’s running. And maybe Tango would say yes to that, too, and then he and Jimmy would need to figure out the logistics of actually making that work. Jimmy actually sighs this time, expelling hot air as he shuts down all twelve of the simulations he was running in real time. For a moment he actually feels lucky he’s not a construct or a human with organic parts and human anatomy, because he’s certain that he would have upturned something inside him with the anxiety that washed over him at the prospect of trying to make it work. They could, though. He’s certain of it. So certain, in fact—

With a small, pleasant chime and swish, the door to Jimmy’s—to Jimmy and Tango’s cabin, slides open. Jimmy stutters, freezing in place at the center of the room. Tango blinks, and his eyes go wide and soft in a version of a smile that fits his face better than his mouth upturning.

“Just who I expected!” Tango says brightly.

“Tango!” Jimmy says, voice squeaking through his vocal unit. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be back for another half-hour?”

Tango laughs a familiar halting, scratchy sound. Jimmy feels his core processor take on more weight of calculations, but he can’t tell why. Well, he knows why, but he can’t tell what it’s processing. Focus.

“I thought so too,” Tango says, shrugging out of his uniform jacket. He’s a smaller stature than Jimmy, all sharp edges and compact to fit in cargo hold containers and maintenance shafts and in the smallest spacesuit HASA made. “But Bdubs didn’t need any more help with his project that he thought he’d need my superior brain for, so he said he’d tag me on the feed if he needed anything.”

Tango shrugs. The relaxed slope of his demeanor softens Jimmy’s worry back into something more manageable. He takes another cooling breath in and out.

“That’s lovely,” Jimmy says cheerily. So much for attempting to figure out what he was going to say. Maybe he could put it off for a little longer. Yeah. Sure! He could just put it off and then try again later. That would be fine. He could just keep thinking on this, and make it worse, and certainly he wouldn’t feel more awful about it. More awful? Awful-er?

“Mhm!” Tango agrees. He turns to Jimmy as he successfully doffs his boots, setting his hands on his hips. “Having a good off shift?”

Jimmy nods. “Been scheming about what shows we could watch.”

Tango’s expression brightens twofold.

“Oh, sweet!” he says, grinning. “I’d love that.”

Jimmy smiles, matching that lopsided grin as Tango moves around him and into his space. Tango pauses for a moment to reach up, squishing Jimmy’s face in his hands, before he pulls away, supposedly to park himself in a comfortable chair. As he pulls away, though, he stutters, stops.

“Actually,” he says. “I love that plan. But I’d wanted to ask you something.”

Jimmy blinks owlishly. Something that he thinks his emotional calculations module would label dread seeps into his wiring.

“Shoot,” he says, a hair softer than he’d meant to.

“So,” Tango starts, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. It folds and parts on the same perfect axis. “I’ve been thinking a little bit, and we watched a really cool historical show the other night? And the characters—well they’re obviously in romantic love, and stuff, but they’re just as touchy as we are, and they—at some point, they did something, and I haven’t—I was wondering—”

Jimmy is very very lucky he has no organic parts. He thinks he may have gotten sick with excitement. He blurts:

“Do you want to try kissing sometime?”

Do you want to try kissing sometime. That’s the sentence he was supplied with. This has got to be some kind of joke. Tango blinks, but his fond and soft expression doesn’t change. He tilts his head ever so, and, for an odd, fleeting moment, Jimmy thinks that if either of them could blush, Tango would be especially red in the face right now.

“You were thinking about it?” Tango asks, almost wistful, just a touch surprised. Jimmy nods.

“I thought it… might be fun. And interesting for you. And nice for me.”

Tango smiles, broad and toothy.

“I think it would be too.”

Jimmy grins back at him.

“Cool,” he says lamely, eyes immediately falling to his hands. “That would be cool.”

“Yeah,” Tango says, still sounding a little bit out of breath, despite not needing to breathe. “Um… did you want to?”

“Want to?” Jimmy parrots. He blinks at him.

“To try it. Um. Kissing. Right now.”

Blinking again, back to blinking. Jimmy blows out a hot breath through his teeth as he stares at Tango, and Tango’s wide yellow eyes stare back at him, and Jimmy can’t get the words out of his vocal unit. Instead, as his mouth moved to try and speak, he nods. Tango nods too.

“Okay!” Tango laughs pitchily. “Sure, okay. That’s great. Um. How?”

Jimmy blanks, blinking down at Tango in front of him. Not really down, more like slightly tilted down, and over, watching the open expression, delighted expression on his face. His processor stalls and skips for what feels like a subjective hour and is a objective five seconds. 

“We’ll just… do it like real people do. And make it up from there.”

Tango takes a small step, then a smaller one, and another, until he’s crowded just close enough to bump noses with him if he really tries. Close enough to see the fine lines of where the silicon skin slotted together around his eyes. To count each artificial lash. Tango cups his hands around his face, like he’s done hundreds of times (Jimmy has the number somewhere, but that’s not exactly relevant right now, is it?), like he’s about to knock their foreheads together. He smiles with his eyes. Jimmy smiles back, his body warm from all the mechanics trying to keep up with him. Tango’s eyes track his face for just a moment.

“Now you’re speaking my language.”

[dazaih]

wingman - luke skywalker x reader

chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four

chapter five -> the apartment

your university roommate han solo finds a rival (and love interest) in student council president leia skywalker, but both of them are too stubborn to admit that they have feelings for each other. luckily, you and her twin brother, luke, devise a plan to get the two of them to spend more time together. challenges arise, however, when you start to develop a crush on him.

chapter warnings: sexual humor, alcohol mentioned, injuries and violence mentioned

a/n: anidala cameo to make up for the angst in the last chapter hehe

Their apartment was, of course, luxurious. Pristine floors, large windows, and sleek, modern appliances—it was the total opposite of the outdated home you shared with Han and Chewie. There was even a balcony with a hot tub. You were speechless. Still, it was small enough to feel cozy, which you’re sure their actual home wasn’t, so you were grateful to be in this space instead.

“The decorations aren’t as cute as yours,” Leia said, watching you gawk at the apartment, “But this is where we live.”

“It’s beautiful,” you told her, taking everything in.

“Thank you. You’re welcome to have anything in the fridge or pantry. We have a spare bedroom that we use as an office space, but there’s a daybed in there too.”

You nodded, glad that you would at least have a little bit of your own space.

“You can use my shower,” she offered, “It’s connected to my room. You can borrow a fresh set of pajamas too.”

You smiled, incredibly grateful for her hospitality.

“Thank you so much. I really appreciate this, guys,” you said seriously, hoping they understood how much their kindness meant to you. You weren’t always good at expressing deep emotions, but you tried to make your gratitude as evident as you could.

Showering had been nice. The dirt was cleansed from your open cuts, and your aching muscles relaxed some under the warm spray of water. The soap that Leia was letting you use smelled great, and the pajamas she’d given you were comfortable silk. When you walked back into the living room, Luke was baking cookies, giving you a small wave.

“Should you be baking with a concussion?” you asked, though the delicious smell had already infiltrated your senses and made you believe that this was a good idea.

“They never told me not to,” he replied, shrugging, “You look so cozy.”

You chuckled a bit, looking down at your sleepwear and the warm, wool socks she’d left out for you. When you looked back up, you noticed that Luke’s hair was also damp, and he was wearing a pair of pajama pants and a loose fitting t-shirt. Something about seeing him like this made you feel warm.

“So do you. I’ve only ever seen you in slacks and nice sweaters.”

“Oh? You don’t like my slacks and nice sweaters?” he pretended to pout, leaning over the counter to talk to you.

You did like his usual attire. He managed to look soft and stylish at the same time, an air of elegance always surrounding him. But seeing him like this—he just looked so warm. You wanted to fall asleep next to him.

“I never said that. Just that you look different like this.”

“Different? Like, bad different?”

“No!” you said quickly, scrambling to correct yourself, “Definitely not.”

When he quirked his eyebrow at you, you realized that he’d just been messing with you the entire time. You blushed and looked away, only to be surprised when he hooked a finger under your chin and gently pushed upwards, urging you to meet his eyes.

“Sorry,” he said, grinning at you, “I just like teasing you.”

“I can tell,” you huffed, pulling his hand away from your chin, though you continued gripping his wrist, “Making fun of me after all I’ve been through today. How sinister.”

He giggled, and if you weren’t so exhausted from the events of the day, you might have tried to pull that sound from him again. It was just so perfect.

“My bad,” he replied, smiling at you, “I’ll make it up to you. I’m making cookies, y’know.”

“With a concussion, yes. I can see that.”

Just then, Leia came barreling out of her room, looking stressed and tired, holding her cell phone up to her ear.

“It’s them,” she said, pointing to her phone, “They want me to FaceTime them so they can see that you’re okay.”

Luke’s grimace was amusing, but you felt anxious that you’d show up in the frame. You heard the familiar sound of the phone call switching to video, and you couldn’t believe that you were about to hear the senator and her movie star husband scold their kids. Leia flipped the camera and pointed it at Luke, who offered a small wave.

“Hi Mom,” he said tiredly.

“Hi, Luke,” you heard his mother say, “I’m glad you’re okay. Your father is on his way home, so I’d say that you have a few minutes to explain yourself to me before he gets here.”

Leia handed him the phone, and he flipped the camera back around to front-facing. From where he was leaning over the counter, you could make out his mother’s face. You’d seen her on television before, but never in the comfort of her own home, and yet she was still incredibly beautiful.

“Great,” he mumbled, sighing, “Well, basically I—“

“Padme!” you heard someone shout on the other line, the sound of the door swinging open audible to you as well, “Luke—“

“Ani, he’s on the phone,” she told him, and you heard him approach.

When Anakin came into view, you were equally as stunned. You’d never seen his movie, but he certainly had the face for Hollywood, having aged like fine wine. No wonder directors wanted to get their hands on him.

“Tell us what happened,” Anakin demanded, and you watched as he placed a quick kiss on Padme’s forehead, a silent greeting to her upon his return home. Cute.

“Someone attacked my friends, so I stepped in. And I had other people with me,” Luke explained.

“So it wasn’t just a bunch of drunk college kids fighting over something stupid?” Padme asked, seemingly surprised.

“What? When have you ever known me to just start fighting people for the hell of it?”

“We thought you could’ve been going through something,” Padme said, and you had to stifle a giggle. Their concern for him was precious, and their willingness to try to understand his actions even before getting an explanation out of him showed how much they trusted their children. You briefly wondered what Han would say upon realizing that the Skywalkers might actually be perfect, and that their facade as a happy family was hardly a facade at all.

“No,” Luke protested, already over this conversation, “I’m not—it wasn’t a dumb bar fight. There were like, adults your age there.”

“What?” Padme exclaimed, her concern growing, “Adults were beating up students? Why?”

“Who were they?” Anakin added, frowning.

“I don’t know, but they were beating the hell out of my friend, and then they were restraining my other friend, and we heard someone scream, so we ran outside.”

“Did you talk to the police?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“You have a black eye. Are those stitches?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Do you have any other injuries?”

“No, Mom.”

“Leia, does Luke have any other injuries?” she asked again.

“Concussion and bruised ribs,” Leia confessed, shooting Luke an apologetic look.

“Did you land any hits on the other guys?” Anakin asked, speaking for the first time in a while.

“Anakin!” Padme chided.

“What? Self defense is important.”

“A couple, yeah,” Luke said sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

“Nice.”

“Anakin.”

“Fine,” he huffed, and you could see him cross his arms. So that’s where the twins got their attitude from, you supposed.

“Are your friends okay?” she asked, and her concern for others made you like her a little more.

“One is in the hospital, and the other is spending the night here,” Luke said, moving the camera slightly to get you in frame. You weren’t expecting to meet the Skywalkers today, and you hoped you didn’t look too rough.

“Hello,” you greeted them politely, giving them a wave.

“Hello, sweetie! I’m so sorry to hear about what happened tonight. If there’s anything we can do for you, please just let us know,” Padme offered, giving you a warm, beautiful smile, much like her son’s.

“Thank you,” you replied, surprised by her sincerity, “Your kids have already done so much for me.”

“That’s good to hear,” she said happily, smiling at you again. Anakin nodded, grinning a bit. He looked proud. You wondered if he might say as much.

“Ben’s in the state on business. We’re sending him to check up on you soon,” he said instead, Leia and Luke groaning in response.

“Don’t be like that,” Padme scolded, “You love Ben.”

“Not when he’s coming for the sole purpose of admonishing me,” Luke mumbled, “It’s really not necessary. Leia and I have each other. We’re more than capable of taking care of ourselves.”

“But you’re still young, honey,” Padme said, “And we’re your parents. We’re supposed to worry about you and then make sure you’re okay when something goes wrong.”

You were beginning to envy the relationship the twins shared with their parents. Han and Chewie were the only family you had. The thought of them made your heart sink, and you longed to be in the emergency room with them, at Han’s side like you always had been. But since you didn’t know how long he’d be there, taking shifts with Chewie so you could both have the chance to rest wasn’t a bad idea, not to mention the fact that the events of the day had left you extremely rattled.

“I promise we’re fine. Besides, we’ll be busy tomorrow. We have to check on our other friend who hasn’t made it out of the hospital yet.”

Their faces fell, and their eyes were sad. Padme’s tone softened.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she said gently, “Please let us know if there’s anything we can do.”

“I will,” Luke agreed, tone becoming lighter at their kindness, “I promise. I’m not supposed to look at my phone very much with my concussion, but I’ll text you when I can.”

“And FaceTime us so we can see you.”

“If I have time,” he pushed back a little, and you saw Anakin roll his eyes.

“Leia, make sure Luke does everything the doctor told him to,” Anakin added.

“I’m a grown man,” Luke complained, a slight pout tugging at his lips.

“You push your body way too hard sometimes, Luke. You’re like your father.”

“I’m a student athlete.”

“Do not go to practice with a concussion,” Anakin told him, his voice sounding serious but also the tiniest bit amused.

“I won’t,” Luke promised, and you wanted to laugh at his attempt to defend himself. He looked exhausted.

“He’s not stupid, Dad,” Leia added with a bored sigh.

“I know he’s not,” Anakin agreed, “But do you remember when he pretended not to have the flu so he could play in the last home game of the season? Or when he played with a fractured elbow?”

Luke sighed and buried his head in his hands. He exhaled and looked up again, glaring at his parents through the screen.

“I was in high school,” he countered, “You seriously don’t have to worry. I promise I’ll take care of myself.”

“Okay,” Anakin said reluctantly, “But seriously. Keep us updated on how you’re doing.”

“I will,” Luke replied slowly, emphasizing the word as much as he could.

“We’ll let you go then. I’m sure you must be tired. It was nice to meet you, dear,” Padme said, waving at you, “And I meant what I said before. Please let us know if we can do anything for you.”

You waved back and muttered a small thanks, Leia taking her phone back, and the twins bid their parents goodbye. When the call ended, Leia sighed and looked at Luke.

“Dad’s press tour is soon,” she announced, her meaning not quite clear to you.

“I know,” Luke grumbled, turning to take the cookies out of the oven, “And I look like this.”

“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” she added, “I mean, the school is private property. No one will be able to take your picture there.”

“What’re you guys talking about?” you finally asked.

“Dad will be getting a lot of press for his new movie, which means the rest of the family will be getting a lot of press, too. And now Luke has clearly been hit. So if people didn’t have questions about the local headlines that have already started emerging, they certainly will once the paparazzi publishes a photo of his fucked up face,” Leia explained, worming her way behind the counter.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, swatting her arm once he put the cookie tray down, “Do I really look that bad?”

“No!” you said quickly, Leia huffing out a “Yes!” at the same time. Luke turned to look at you with a grin.

“Yeah?” he asked sweetly, leaning over the island again to stare you directly in the eye, “Thanks. I’m glad someone here thinks highly of me.”

“Gross,” she mumbled, grabbing a bottle of wine and a glass.

He offered you a cookie then, and you hummed happily when you took a bite. They were magnificent.

“These are great,” you told him, and he beamed at you, “Thanks for baking.”

“Underneath that student athlete facade, Luke’s quite the housewife. He’s a good baker, and he sews too. I’m surprised he hasn’t started brewing his bedtime tea yet, but I bet he’s probably too embarrassed because you’re here—“ Leia teased, Luke cutting her off.

“Why is everyone shitting on me today?” he whined, snagging the bottle out of his sister’s hand and pouring himself some wine.

“You shouldn’t be drinking with a concussion.”

“The only reason my head is hurting is you,” he retaliated, though you could tell that his tone was still playful. Leia chuckled quietly to herself and stole a cookie.

“The daybed is set up for you. I put clean sheets on it,” she told you, smiling.

“You didn’t have to make the bed for me,” you replied, the kind gesture making you feel warm.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, echoing Luke earlier, “You’re our guest.”

“Well, thank you,” you replied sincerely, “It means a lot. I didn’t really wanna be alone tonight, if I’m honest.”

Leia nodded sympathetically, picking up her now full wine glass and sighing.

“I’m gonna take a bath and go to bed. If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to wake me,” she said before turning to Luke, “And you better not drink too much wine with that concussion. I’ll tell Mom and Dad.”

“Dad would do the same thing,” he scoffed, “Go to bed and stop worrying over me.”

“It’s hard not to worry over you. You should go to bed.”

“Later,” he told her, “I just got the shit beat out of me. I’m having an adrenaline rush.”

She rolled her eyes and lightly smacked his arm, the gesture undoubtedly affectionate in nature.

“Be nice to our guest,” she ordered, fixing him with a stern look.

“Oh, I intend to,” he replied with a smug grin.

“Don’t be gross. Goodnight, guys.”

He giggled as she left the room, his eyes following her until she shut the bedroom door. When she was gone, he turned his focus back to you.

“Do you want to go to sleep?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“I feel like I should, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to. I’m still—I don’t know. I know I’m safe here with you guys, I just—“

“It’s okay,” he said, surprising you by reaching over the island countertop and grabbing your hand, “I understand. We can stay up and watch movies, if you want.”

“Oh, you don’t have to stay up with me, Luke. And you shouldn’t be looking at screens, remember?”

“I want to. Show me some of your favorites.”

“Han warned you about that. I’m gonna talk your ear off.”

“I know,” he replied with a soft smile, “I want you to. And the more you talk, the less I have to look at the screen. Sounds good to me.”

Your face flushed. Who were you to turn down the opportunity to ramble to a gorgeous young man about your interests? You’d had a hard day, after all.

Nodding, you followed him into the living room, carrying the plate of cookies and two glasses of wine with you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You woke up a few hours later with a sharp pain in your neck and something hard pressing into your cheek. Confused and disoriented, you sat up slightly, only to realize that the culprit behind your awkward sleeping position had been Luke Skywalker himself. As the realization that you had fallen asleep on his shoulder dawned on you, you felt your stomach sink. Maybe he wasn’t awake. Maybe slumber had grasped him first, and he hadn’t even noticed—

“Hey,” he whispered, voice raspy. He must have fallen asleep too, but unfortunately for you, he was acutely aware of your position.

“Hi,” you replied, your nerves running wild as you finally forced yourself to look up and meet his stare. He looked at you through eyes that were only half open, but his gentle smile told you that he was awake enough to understand the implications of your proximity.

“Guess we fell asleep,” he said, “We should try to watch this movie again. Like, under normal circumstances.”

You giggled, humming in agreement. Your thighs were still touching, and your side was pressed up against his arm. You were surprised that he didn’t move away from you.

“Wanna go to bed?” he asked, shifting so that he was turned more towards you.

“Guess I should,” you murmured, avoiding his eyes now, “I’m sorry that I fell asleep on you.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m a pretty big fan of physical affection.”

You laughed again, grateful that he was more casual about these things than you were. You hoped that he couldn’t sense your nerves.

“None of my friends are like that. I think Han has probably hugged me three times since I’ve known him.”

“He touches your hair,” Luke pointed out, and you were caught off guard by the fact that he’d picked up on that detail, because you were pretty sure that Luke had never actually been around when Han had done that.

“What?” you blurted, the exhaustion adding to your confusion, “How do you know that?”

Luke seemed caught off guard by that question, and in the dim light of the living room, you could barely see a faint blush begin to spread across his cheeks.

“He messes up your hair. Like, he ruffles it. I don’t know. I saw him do it once,” he mumbled, suddenly very focused on the rug.

“You were watching me,” you realized, lips curling into a mischievous grin, “At the bar after I left you and your friends. That’s the only time you could’ve seen it.”

“So?” he replied, and something about genuinely making Luke Skywalker feel embarrassed made you giddy.

“Don’t tell me you’re starting to buy into your own lie, Luke,” you teased, poking his side.

This time, he sat up all the way, his eyes no longer clouded by sleep. He put some space in between you and suddenly stood. The abruptness startled you in your tired state, and before you could inquire about what was up with that reaction, he had already regained his composure.

“Come on,” he said softly, folding the blanket the two of you had been sharing and looking everywhere but your eyes, “You need to sleep. In a bed.”

You cocked your head a little, trying to meet his gaze. When you finally succeeded, you weren’t able to read the look in his eyes, so you just stood and resigned yourself to being agreeable.

“So should you,” you replied, touching his arm gently, “I’m really sorry about today, Luke. I never wanted you to get hurt by hanging out with me. I promise that stuff like that doesn’t usually happen. Usually, the most danger we’re ever in is when Han and Chewie hotbox the van.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I’m not sure exactly what happened, but you guys are good people. I don’t regret defending you.”

“Thank you,” you told him, hoping your face reflected your sincerity, “You guys are really sweet. Your parents, too. I hope they don’t think I’m a bad influence or something.”

Luke laughed quietly at that, shaking his head.

“No way. My dad’s a worse influence than you are,” he replied, “But really. You don’t need to thank me. I wish I could’ve done more than just land a couple of hits on him, but to be honest, I’m not much of a fighter.”

“You were really good at it,” you noted, recalling how agile he was, “It was impressive.”

“Yeah?” he asked in that flirty voice of his, though now it was still slightly raspy, “I mean, I know how to fight. I just don’t like doing it.”

“Why do you know how?” you blurted, your exhaustion doing a bit of damage to your filter.

“I’ll tell you another time. You should really be getting some sleep.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but didn’t protest. He was kind enough to walk you to the spare bedroom, offering you a small smile as he told you goodnight.

“Wake me up if you need anything, okay?” he added softly.

You stood toe to toe, close enough to kiss, but neither of you made a move to even touch each other. It felt too intimate, too real.

“Sure,” you whispered, staring at him, “Night, Luke.”

With that, he walked away, shutting the door behind him. You crawled into the daybed and turned your ringer all the way up in case Chewie called. You hoped that sleep would find you easily.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You woke up to your phone dinging, signaling an influx of incoming texts. You blinked the sleep away from your eyes and immediately checked it.

4 new notifications

Chewie: he’s awake and ok but on a shit ton of painkillers

Chewie: bruh the police are already here asking questions wtf he’s barely awake

Chewie: r u still with the twins? how r u feeling?

Chewie: gonna run home and shower while he naps. lmk when u feel like visiting him and i’ll give u his room info

You breathed out a sigh of relief at the knowledge that Han was doing okay, despite the medication needed for his injuries. You sent a quick text back to Chewie to let him know that you were at the Skywalker residence, which was still a rather surprising turn of events for you. Just then, you inhaled the sweet scent of lavender, and when you turned your head, you saw a cup of tea on your night stand.

You immediately knew it was Luke who had brewed it for you. The kind gesture made your heart flutter a bit, but you tried not to think about the implications of that as you took a sip. Still warm. You gave yourself a moment to relish in the peaceful atmosphere, sunlight peaking through the blinds and silky pajamas hugging your skin. After finishing your tea, you got out of bed, fixing the covers and walking into the kitchen. Upon entering, you were immediately greeted by the bickering of the twins.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Luke complained, hovering behind Leia as she stood over the stove.

“I’m capable of making eggs, Luke,” she snapped.

“Apparently not, because you aren’t even adding anything. You can’t just scramble them. It’s so easy to just—“

“Well, when you don’t have a concussion, you’re more than welcome to cook for yourself. For now you should just shut up and be grateful.”

“I can cook just fine. I baked last night. I made tea this morning—“

“And you shouldn’t have done any of that! And I can’t believe you were watching movies last night. You need at least a day of rest, Luke. You can gradually start doing daily tasks again after that, but you shouldn’t be thinking too hard or looking at screens yet.”

“You’re asking me not to think. That’s impossible.”

“Is it really? It seems to me like you hardly ever think about anything—“

“Good morning,” you said, clearing your throat and announcing your presence before they could continue.

“Good morning,” Leia replied, turning to you, “I’m making breakfast right now, but Luke keeps micromanaging me. Did you sleep well?”

“I slept great! Thanks again for setting up the room for me. And I can see that,” you noted, feeling bold as you came up behind Luke and squeezed his waist with your good hand, “Sit down, Luke. You should be relaxing.“

He turned sharply at that, eyes wide for a split second before regaining his composure. Your flirting had started to evolve into a competition of sorts, as you felt determined to catch him off guard now. So far, he was beating you, but you tried not to let him see that. You watched as his momentary surprise was quickly replaced by the expression he wore when he was about to say something out of pocket to you, his eyes slightly lidded and mischief written all over his face.

“I’ll sit down if you sit on my lap,” he offered, smiling at you innocently.

“Luke,” Leia groaned, turning around and glaring at him, “Chill out. It’s ten in the morning. If your ribs weren’t bruised, I would hit you.”

“Where’s your sense of humor?” he huffed, relenting as he went to the other side of the kitchen island and took a seat in one of the barstools, turning to you, “Will you sit next to me, at least?”

“If you can behave,” you told him, taking the stool next to him.

“Oh? And if I don’t? Gonna punish m—“

“Luke!” Leia hissed, slamming her spatula onto the counter and turning to him, “Did you lose brain cells when you hit your head? Shut the fuck up. Oh my god.”

“You’re no fun,” he pouted, sighing dramatically, “How do you expect me to act when you’ve got me on house arrest? I can’t even watch TV.”

“Aren’t you tired?” you asked him, stepping in to deescalate their bickering before it turned into an actual argument, “It was a long night. And you got hurt.”

“I feel fine,” he protested, but the smile he gave you didn’t reach his eyes. Leia shook her head disapprovingly and turned her attention back to the stove, sighing as she often did.

You frowned, not really a fan of whatever fake confidence he was trying to offer you, and without thinking, placed a hand on his knee. He flinched slightly, and then tried to cover that up with a smile too, but you didn’t return it, instead just keeping your hand there as a gentle reminder that you saw him. His cheeks flushed slightly, but he didn’t move away from you, and resumed a more normal conversation with you and Leia as she prepared the food. Occasionally, you would gently rub patterns into his knee, and when you felt him continue to relax underneath your touch, you felt like you had finally figured something out about him. You recalled his offhand comment about enjoying physical affection, and you realized that offering him reassuring touches here and there was probably comforting for him. You filed that information away as your thumb traced circles into his skin, noting that his eyelashes would flutter every now and then and he’d sit up a little straighter to shake himself awake. Had he slept at all?

“Here, eat,” Leia commanded as she placed two plates down in front of you and Luke. You saw him give you a sideways glance when you removed your hand from his knee, the cast on your other arm demanding that you only use your hand for one task at a time. He said nothing though, and was content to eat quietly.

“When you’re feeling up to it, we can have our driver take you to the hospital to visit Han,” Leia offered, pouring a glass of orange juice for you, “Just let me know. We can also get you back to your apartment, but you’re more than welcome to stay with us for the next few days while you all are getting back on your feet.”

Luke looked right at you then, though his expression was unreadable to you. Not quite sure what the meaning behind his stare was, you felt a little self conscious, and turned your gaze back to Leia quickly.

“Thank you so much,” you told her sincerely, “I’m okay to go back to my place tonight though. You all have already been so kind and hospitable. I don’t want to overstay my welcome. But I might take you up on the ride.”

“You wouldn’t be overstaying your welcome,” she insisted, “But I don’t want to pressure you. Let me know if you change your mind.”

With that, she handed you her phone, and you put your contact information in. Luke remained silent for the entire ordeal. It was starting to unnerve you. Perhaps he wanted you out of his apartment so he could finally get some rest. With a newfound determination to not be a nuisance to the Skywalkers any longer, you hurried through your breakfast and helped Leia clean up. At some point, Luke had disappeared back into his room, and although you felt slightly affronted, you pushed those emotions to the back of your mind for the time being. The change in his demeanor was giving you whiplash, but there was no way that you’d be able to sort through his thoughts.

“Text or call if you need anything,” she insisted, standing at the doorway to see you off, “And if you wouldn’t mind keeping me updated on how Han’s doing…”

“Of course,” you told her, your heart warming a bit at her concern for him, “Tell Luke I said bye.”

Her face fell slightly at that, and she placed her hands on her hips, glaring at the closed door of his room.

“I’m sorry that he’s being weird,” she said, sighing, “I think he’s trying to act tough because he’s shaken up about last night. He’s really sensitive.”

“Really?” you blurted, surprised that she would use such a word to describe him. The Luke you knew was sensitive to your feelings, sure, but he didn’t seem to be all that emotional himself.

“Yeah,” she replied, smiling softly, “He pretends like he isn’t, especially around those dicks he calls his friends, but he gets worked up about things—anxious, I guess.”

“I met them last night.”

“Really? How’d that go?”

“I threatened to hit one of them,” you admitted sheepishly, “But they were fine after that. They were pretty helpful in the fight, actually.”

“You threatened to hit them? You should’ve done it,” she said excitedly, beaming at you, “But yeah, I’ll give credit where it’s due. Although, I still think they only joined in because they wanted to say they won a bar fight.”

“And because they worship Luke,” you added, recalling how they followed him around all night.

“It’s weird, right? He doesn’t even realize it.”

“It’s really weird, but it’s kind of funny, especially because he doesn’t realize it.”

She laughed, and then surprised you by pulling you into a gentle hug.

“I’m glad you guys are getting to know each other better. I think you’re good for him,” she said seriously.

Her words made you feel guilty, as you weren’t quite sure how much of your relationship with Luke was genuine. Still, you nodded in agreement, forcing a smile.

Feeling confused and a bit forlorn, you departed from the Skywalker residence.

[burningcheese-merchant]

I've never really understood getting mad over what people ship or don't ship honestly, I like the two ships that you've mentioned you don't doesn't mean I have to be mad about it, doesn't mean anyone's wrong for liking or not liking different ships.

Maybe I'm just a multishipper but I've never understood arguing over which ones better should be canon or any of that either.

Basically I don't get it, you can not like a ship you can talk how much you don't like the ship or why but going out of your way to find and get mad about ships you don't like is stupid.

I'd say that's a good thing to think

I've said it before and I'll say it again. Shipping is just playing dollhouse. There's no rhyme or reason to getting mad over how someone chooses to play with the dolls. Play with yours the way you want and extend that gesture to everyone else. Play together if you want, play separately if you don't like their game. Play on opposite sides of the room and face away from each other if you really need to. But don't go swat at them or try to take their dolls or whatever. Shipping is already a touch childish, you don't need to go full tilt and become a tantruming kindergartner about it.

Hate the ship, love the shipper is the ideal for me. Plenty of people don't like BurningCheese. Plenty of them like ShadowSpice. Whatever, that's fine. We can still be buddies. Your life will end up really lonely really fast if you turn away every single person that doesn't march lockstep with you in every direction at all times lol

(And look. Since I'm here and on break. I will explain myself one single time. ShadowSpice just does not make sense to me. Square peg in a round hole. I try to give ships I dislike the benefit of the doubt, usually. I don't like Hollytaya but I understand its appeal. I've read a couple of fics and they were actually quite nice. I tried to read one ShadowSpice fic and I quit 3 paragraphs in. I just cannot do it. It makes me feel gross and itchy. I saw someone's explanation on here for why they ship it, don't remember who, and it still didn't add up. I felt like a toddler trying to read Finnegan's Wake. The gears just will not turn, not even with force. I can't stand them together like that, so I don't seek out any content like that. The occasional jab I make is where it ends. I'd otherwise rather talk about stuff I actually like instead of stuff I don't lol)

(Also I don't multiship. Hollyberry and Dark Cacao are the only exceptions. I like them together and with their respective Beasts. I don't do it with anyone else, I attach myself to specific pair bonds and simply refuse to let go. Whatever ships I like are the be-all end-all for me. But that's just me personally, more power to you if you think differently)

[son-justdont]

okay so here's the update regarding my mom's opinions on catws

she fuckin gets it, dude

i talked about how despite everything hydra does to make him look intimidating, you can see that he's very neutral, sometimes even scared. i showed her this gif:

and she said "it's like he's lost"

we talked about how he's extremely calculating and doesn't react emotionally even in high stress or when he's being bested, like when Natasha fucked up his arm, or even during the face reveal. and she said "because they didn't understand the science of it... the serum enhances everything about the person, and he wasn't bad. that's why they had to work so hard and wipe him so much, because he wouldn't ever actually want to do those things." i couldn't help but smile while she was saying this lmao

she also said: "to me, Steve always seemed... independent. it's almost like Bucky relied on him more than the other way around" which is the most stucky thing she could've ever said. she's so fucking right

she was like "wait, so he pulled him out of the water... and then he just walked away?? so now he's just wandering around... and the longer he stays unfrozen, the more he's going to remember everything"

we can't quite yet watch civil war but we are very excited for it lol

oh, and she loved nick fury and she didn't even know who the fuck he was. i forgot to explain beforehand but she understood pretty quick. and then she was very upset when he "died" as well LOL she said "THEY NEED TO STOP DOING THAT." she hated rumlow immediately as well and i was like yeah that's the correct opinion

now i wanna respond to some of the comments under the cut cuz ive been having such a good time lmao

@bucky-boychik-barnes @impetusofadream HERE U GO (one of them is from a different post where i talked about the same thing lmao)

@ilovemosss i read this post out to my mom including the replies and when i read this one she went "YOU ARE!!!!!!!!!"

@sentowritesstuff @stuckydrewx @partofthefandom @musette22 @rillils @skullfragments

she really thought all these responses were so funny and sweet! i however will not be introducing her to ao3 lmfao. she's no prude but she's pretty shy. i'll have to just relay ideas i find myself, i think. if anyone has any non-M rated recs you think she might like based on what she's said, feel free to send them my way haha

honestly she'd probably enjoy herself but i am probably only be showing her Cap and Bucky related stuff LSKDJF we didn't even watch avengers and i sure as hell am not showing her AoU. i'm basically explaining the relevant information as to what went on in between movies. i was like "natasha is an ex russian spy that was groomed to be as a child. that's basically all you need to know" like i didn't even explain nick fury and she was SO UPSET WHEN HE DIED LMAO

and, i gotta spill the beans, but i haven't seen a marvel movie since the first black panther. yeah that includes IF and EG. i know what happens but my interest in marvel PLUMMETED back then and i never caught up. honestly i'm only back into this stuff because i rewatched jessica jones and then wanted to go through the whole MCU from the beginning, saw CA:TFA, went "oh yeah this was all that i liked," and went all in for them.

i have watched TFatWS and i loved it (it seems like the fandom doesn't though LOL) for what it was, so i'll probably show her that. she is gonna be so so so so so upset regarding steve's choice, just like the rest of us. and i'm not looking forward to it lol. but i'll update when that happens too

i'll have to make a post civil war mom thoughts once that happens haha