#which is the slimy white man | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

raitonsfw · 9 months ago

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𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎'𝚜 𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚗𝚒𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 | 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚞 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

synopsis: They made a fucking bet – whoever made you cum first wins first fuck of the night. The drawback? They can't drop their cursed techniques, Gojo with his Limitless and Geto with his Curse Manipulation. You can only imagine where this was gonna go, your legs already spread open wide for the sorcerers.

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, fem!reader (she/her pronouns), threesome, inappropriate use of cursed techniques, sex toy (vibrator with insertion), clit play, doggy style, facefucking, creampie & cum swallowing, dirty talk, banter, satosugu arguing like idiots, geto pisses gojo off, geto kinda cheats, toji's worm pins reader down, gojo's love language is touch (so this is really hard for him), gojo being a bit cocky and geto being a bit condescending, satosugu don't interact sexually (i know, i'm sorry), endings kinda weak but who cares?

a/n: with this treasure i summon– dunno came up with this plot like a few weeks ago cuz i was really intrigued by satoru's technique and not being able to touch him like- if there are mistakes, just know i suck at distinguishing the power system of jjk so my bad. wc: 2.2k. m.list

divider credit: @hitobaby

“Aw, she’s crying…” You heard from afar and you knew instantly– you were fucked.

“Satoru, don’t tease her.”

The two men made a bet– of who could get you to cum without dropping their technique wins first fuck of the night. Naturally, Gojo had it much worse as he couldn’t touch you but Geto was able to do whatever he pleased… with the exception of his curses clinging to you. And that made you squirm with discomfort– you hated his curses, they skeeved you out and you were worried they might attack you even though Geto’s assured you many times he has full control of them.

You reached out for Gojo again but you were met with traction, the slipping feeling of reality falling apart and breaking your hand’s outstretch. Tears slipped from your eyes as you were fooled yet again, the pressure vibrating through your body becoming way too much and you tried to pull from Geto’s grasp. But the wormed curse he summoned kept you tight and taut against the heat of the mattress, the vibrator flush with your clit and you frowned.

You couldn’t cum like this– with the way Geto’s slimy purple worm looked, so goddamn disgusting…and all you wanted was Gojo’s affection. You wanted him to touch you– to crave you like he always did. He was such a touchy man and the fact that he sat in front of you without so much as reaching out killed you.

Geto had you in his lap, the worm clinging onto one of your arms and the other expelled out towards Gojo. Geto ran the vibrator down towards your entrance and you writhed against him again, your back arching up with a whiny moan but you were met with the babbling of the wretched worm next to you and you instinctively tried to flung it off. “Getooo… Get it off me.”

Geto pressed a tiny kiss to the back of your head, his other hand stroking your hair with a quiet murmur of ‘sorry baby…’ which didn’t make you feel any better. Gojo sat in front of you in a criss cross position, looking quite bored as he leaned his elbow against his knee. “Bring out another curse, Suguruuu. Toji’s worm’s weak.”

“I’m not going to scare her.” Geto sighed, his hand faltering on your cunt and you visibly relaxed as he pulled it away from you. Instead he slipped the other part of the vibrator inside you curtly, leaving it there as his fingers brushed your clit. “At least I can touch her.”

Jealousy flashed on Gojo’s face as Geto rubbed circles on your clit, earning another whine from you– a long needy whine too. Your eyes threatened to squeeze shut, barely able to concentrate on anything besides the incessant vibrating pressing into you. Gojo huffed out dramatically, his eyes leveling towards your cunt then back towards Geto.

“Just because I can’t touch her doesn’t mean I can’t get her off.” The sly remark from the white haired sorcerer went unnoticed by you as the toy nudged deeper into you, the force much more prominent than before.

You moaned out as it started to fuck in and out of you, the motions absurdly fluid as it pinned your sweet spot, making you tremble. Your hips rolled into the sensation, your hands clutching against the silk of the bed sheets quickly. When you vaguely registered where Geto’s hands rested – one in your hair and another rubbing your clit – you realized that it wasn’t him thrusting the vibrator in you.

You glanced down quickly and through blurred vision, you recognized the invisible energy dragging so heavenly along your walls– Gojo was using his technique.

The vibrator moved to the force pulled within the constraints of his limitless technique, infinity constriding your every nerve and you writhed against Geto, completely forgetting about the curse that crawled against your arm. Your eyes met Gojo; his hand flush with cursed energy glowing a bright blue along with the crystals he called eyes, the damned things nearly taking your breath away. It felt like you were on display for him, taking in every whimper and moan coaxed out of you by his precious power.

He seemed so into it now, his cock straining in his boxers– he found a loophole of course – and he was sure he was going to win the bet. Gojo felt his cock leak as your pretty pussy clenched around the toy, his hand wavering slightly at the thought of it being his– ‘cause God, you’d squeeze him so fucking hard sometimes when he fucked you that he saw stars. Your pussy slicked the little toy with a mass of your arousal, glistening the ribbed toy beautifully and he had to stop himself from drooling.

When he wins the bet, he’s going to suck the life out of you– your clit and your soul.

The fucking bet sucked his soul right out of him though; all he wanted right now was you on his lap, quivering against him as he played with you. His dick would settle right against the small of your back and he’d grind up into it as you rutted yourself against the little toy and then he’d press the head of his cock right against your aching cunt– maybe even next to the juddering toy, teasing you until you were crying for him and–

“Stop toying with her.”

The vibrator was delicately pulled out of you, the pleasure ceasing and leaving you empty with pure neediness. You whined out, trying to grasp at Geto’s wrist but his black portal had materialized next to it and another one of his curses grabbed you and kept you still. You grimaced in disgust, leaning forward from Geto before you were forcefully pushed back by strong, uncontrolled energy.

Gojo was wildly annoyed; you could tell. In fact, you weren’t sure if he could go one more second without touching you– or punching Geto square in the face.

“Gojo, don’t–” You started, but it was too late now. He was livid, because how dare Geto. How dare he just fucking pull it right out of you with not even an inkling of regret etched on his face. Especially since you were so close– he sensed it, practically saw you tensing up in chase of your release and he just ruins it for you?

“I’m not toying with her. That was fucking allowed–! Put it back in her.” Gojo growled, his eyebrows furrowing in anger. Animosity dripped from his presence, his body leaning close towards yours before stopping in harrow.

“Do it yourself.” Geto smirked. He definitely wanted to get under Gojo’s skin; anything to get him to lose the bet. “Maybe I’ll fuck my cock in instead…”

You noticed Gojo stiffen, a menacing look painting his face for a split second before it fell away into a lazed attitude. You watched as his jaw clenched, his fists balling up against his lap as he crouched forward. He had a slight pout to his features, which you adored– he was always in a mood whenever it came to Geto’s taunting. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh? Satoru– you should know me by now.”

“That’s cheating, Sugu.” You leaned up to look at him, kissing at his jawline to prevent any more arguing. His hands found your clit again, feigning more circles into the soft bud and you cooed at him with a tiny whine. His fingers dipped into your pussy slightly which in turn, made you buck your hips against them and his eyes never left Gojo’s as they tranced him into a challenge.

“Who cares? I’ll win anyway. I’m just getting a headstart into the night, pretty.” Before you had time to readjust underneath Geto’s intoxicating touch, his curses pulled you upwards; sitting you directly against Geto’s thick cock.

And there it was– a flash of blue. Your body was instantly flush against Gojo’s chest, his strong arms embracing you like he was trying to protect you from harm. He pulled you into a desperate kiss, his fingers roaming over your waist as he lapped his tongue against yours in a soft hum. God, he missed this– he missed you, even though it was only for a few minutes. As his mouth sucked a tiny bruise down your neck, revelling in the way you keened, he vowed to never fucking make a bet with Geto Suguru ever again.

Geto’s curses faded away back into the portal, disintegrating against the black mass as soon as Gojo touched you. “Told you, Y/N.”

Geto’s big hands wrapped against your hips, the tip of his cock already prodding against your entrance as he aimed to mount you right then and there. No, he didn’t want to waste any time because just as quickly as Gojo lost the bet, he could turn it towards his favor; the damned idiot spinning you like a hot wheel whenever he flashed his mesmerizing eyes at you.

One wink and you could probably squirt a mile for him.

Geto turned your chin towards him with his forefinger, his dark eyes sending chills down your spine as he bottomed out. You took to your hands and knees, unable to hold onto Gojo any longer as Geto filled you full. A slight blush spread throughout his cheeks as he let out a low deep groan, his eyes fluttering shut for a second. “Fuck… Just keep your eyes on me, darling.”

You had your eyes on him for like five seconds before your head was tilted back towards Gojo, his cock now directly in front of you and he slicked the tip against your mouth while pumping it shallowly. “Open wide, baby.”

“Not going to scold me, Satoru?” Geto teased, pulling out his cock lightly and slamming it back into with fervor. You whimpered out, your eyes rolling towards the back of your head as Gojo tried to feed his cock into your mouth.

“Just need her right now– shit…” He stuttered out as you sunk down on him eagerly, his cock hitting the back of your throat in one go. Oh, you must’ve broken him– his entire body jolted forwards to fuck into your mouth and his mouth dropped open in a shuddering moan. Or he was already broken beforehand, unable to keep his cock to himself as you were almost fucked without his permission.

Geto was a dirty cheater, but a brilliant fucker; his hips snapped into you at the perfect angle and you whined happily around Gojo’s cock as he rammed into your sweet spot. You drooled on Gojo’s cock, unable to do anything but take it– take both of them in one sitting and try not to die from the pressure building in your tummy. Geto fucked into you so deep, his stamina barely faltering as he pounded you from the back with breathless pants seeping from his mouth.

You wished you could turn back to look at him– or better yet, his hand tangled into your hair and pulled you towards him but he wouldn’t go that far to piss Gojo off. You could only imagine the sight of him, his long hair snaking down his back and sticking to the frame of his face while Gojo glared at him. Geto wouldn’t care though– because he won fair and square in his eyes, his cock pressing against your cervix with a tremble to his thighs now due to the way you clenched around him.

And you knew Gojo wanted so badly to feel you squeeze around him– so you hollowed out your cheeks and smoothed one of your hands over his thigh as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. He took the golden opportunity to face fuck you, his hips rolling into you with a broken groan.

“Ah, k-keep going. That’s it… you love being stuffed by the both of us, huh? Can’t even fucking think straight– fuck, do that again…” Gojo babbled above you as his hips thrusted into your wet mouth, your tongue sliding up the underside of his twitching cock.

You felt your release practically racing towards you as Geto fucked into you relentlessly now, the crown of his cock catch on your hole each and every time he plunged in. You breathed through your nose as your walls fluttered around him through your orgasm, feeling the warmth of Geto’s following not long after.

His groans were quickly overtaken by Gojo’s desperate little whines, both of their hips slapping against you being one of the few sounds in the room. Gojo could only be out of the limelight for so long before his moans became downright filthy whimpers when he came down your throat, burying his cock deeply into your mouth. “Swallow it all, princess. Don’t waste a goddamn drop…”

And you did– you swallowed every goddamn drop that dribbled from his cock while Geto fucked his cum into you greedily. As you pulled off of Gojo’s cock, you wobbled against the bed slightly before the two of them held you up and placed you carefully against the pillows. Looking at the two of them, there seemed to be no sign of ill intent racking their brains. Maybe they wouldn’t fight and you could sleep peacefully, snuggled against them in a warm, cozy blanket.

“Next time you make a bet, fucking keep it Suguru.” Gojo breathed out, his voice void of malice but there still was a bite to it. Wedged between the two of them, you felt Geto shake with laughter– the mocking kind that dug at Gojo’s psyche.

Or maybe not.

“What, you really think you’ll win next time?”

“I know I will.”

a/n: y'all want them to make another bet or no?

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toji-sweetheart · 4 months ago

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𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐬. 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬. 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨

synopsis: Bored of your conservative town you're glad that a sex shop pops up, but little do you know that two men who run it are perverts who want to take you to bed but little do they know what they're about to experience.

wc: 8.3k

tags: 18+ ONLY content + explicit smut: minors and empty blogs DNI + fem reader + not beta read + repost from my old blog + use of multiple sex toys + mmf threesome + pussy eating + blow job + facial + consensual and nonconsensual filming + cum eating/play + fingering + double penetration + anal you receiving + impact play + teasing + you're shorter than them + they talk you through your orgasm + collar/lease usage + both Gojo and Geto are slimy and perverts and manipulate you + dirty talking + creampie + bondage + squirting + pet names such as good girl and princess + Geto x Gojo + any missing tags lmk!

Smoke hung in the air like a heavy musky perfume clinging to the white ceiling catching your attention before you looked around the old building converted into something you never thought you’d see in this town; a sex shop.

Everyone talked about it, the idea of one in a town like this wasn’t sure to do good with sales, but you wanted to see it, curiosity won the battle as you spotted the two men working the counter.

They were deep in a conversation when you stepped further in, you could hear their low mumbling as you glanced at the array of dick-shaped objects.

The main theme seemed to be things you could suck ironically enough, lollipops, straws, and other things that were phallic shaped and all sorts of bachelor and bachelorette games with various items.

You walked over to the movie section and glanced at them, you couldn’t help it really given the nature of your job as a sex worker. It was only solo videos you posted on OnlyFan videos and pictures.

Warmth flooded through your veins looking at the covers, women and men getting fucked or sucked off or eaten out, blood pumped hot pulses throughout your body, and you inhaled smelling the soft scent of vanilla mixed with something heavier.

“We have a sale, buy one get one free!” A light chipper voice called out from behind. You turned and looked at the workers.

One, tall and lanky with white hair and eyes, you were sure the most beautiful blue ever. And white eyelashes that complimented his eye color, your eyes averted to the man next to him, the complete opposite. Long black hair with dark eyes to match.

You smiled and walked over to the counter which housed all sorts of things for smoking, and other small sex items. “Sounds good, it looks good here.” You murmured with a genuine smile happy to see something new in town.

The white-haired man smirked and drummed his long slender fingers against the counter. “Thank you, anything that catches your eye?” He asked, locking his gaze with yours with a smirk.

You nodded and pointed to the rack of dildos behind you. “A few of them, I’m so happy to see a new shop especially one that caters to this in such a conservative city.” You voiced your appreciation with a little sultry touch, seeing men like them is also a rare sighting here.

Both men smirked now glancing at each other and sharing some sort of silent conversation. “It was a bitch to get it set up, these folks need to use one or two toys.” You giggled and looked at the white-haired man, his eyes undressing you practically along with the other one.

“My name is Satoru, I’m the owner and this is my trusty employee and best friend, Suguru.”

You gave them your name with a shy smile, usually, you barely paid any man attention due to them mostly being close to twenty years older or more than you, you noted they both oozed with charm and something sinister swimming under their gaze.

“Such a pretty name for a pretty girl,” Suguru spoke up eyeing you.

Another fit of giggles erupted from your pink glossy lips. “Thank you, you two are the most handsome men that have graced this town along with a sex store.”

It was Suguru who spoke again, his lips curled into a smile as well. “So it’s like a two-in-one package.” He murmured.

You leaned forward giving them a good view of your tits with a matching smile. “I’ve always wondered how two would fit into one.” You teased looking down at the small pipe that resembled a pair of lips painted a deep red.

Satrou’s own lips split almost as he stared at you, no one really has come in besides the few dudes wanting a fleshlight because as they put it their wives never wanted to put out, and now here, these two have a sweet little thing in front of them.

“Very easily with just a little bit of lubrication and coaxing, you could do it,” Suguru purred putting his elbows on the glass leaning forward to catch a whiff of your strawberry perfume, the sweet smell made his mouth water almost. Moving here proved to seem a good idea.

A gush of slickness coated your panties as you gazed into Suguru’s eyes laying your hand over his with a smile so sweet that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to taste your mouth or pussy first, his cock throbbed behind the counter. “You’re right, if I need any help I’ll let you know.”

Before Satoru could add anything else the door rang, and an older gentleman walked in with his hands stuffed in his pockets. You stepped away with a wink and headed back to the wall of dildos scanning the plastic for a larger toy, which happened to be a dark pink filled with glitter.

His words echoed in your head ‘a little bit of lubrication and coaxing, you could do it.’ You grabbed it and headed over to the lube section finding a lube quickly before turning back to the counter to see the older man walking out.

“What if I gave you both a shoutout on my page about your new store?” You asked in a soft tone setting the items on the counter, again they shared a silent conversation and nodded as Suguru rang up your things and bagged them.

Satoru slid your card back into your palm running his slender fingers over your flesh leaving behind a trail of hot desire that crackled like a fireplace. “We’d love that, let me make a counteroffer,” This time they both leaned into your personal space with wicked smirks.

More times than not you were not this bold, but something about the men gave you a boost of confidence you held onto for dear life even though you let people see your naked body this was different, almost more intimate.

“You let us watch your little video and we’ll give you half off today,” Satoru murmured reaching his hand and swiped his thumb over your bottom lip collecting the pink glittery gloss that you smeared earlier.

Your heart thumped fast in your chest watching him with a smirk. “You got a deal, and maybe soon you both will show me just how well I can coax two into one hole.” You scooped up the bag and walked out of the shop with a smile and ruined panties.

Both men looked at the username you wrote down on the receipt and they knew that they were going to be in for a show.

Later that evening you sat on your bed dressed in the new lingerie that came in the mail earlier in the morning, however, this time felt a bit different knowing that Satoru and Suguru could join anytime and you’d have no idea, their nickname could be anything really.

You scanned the new toy you laid out along with the lube bottle and wondered how it would feel for them to stretch you out instead of the silicone dildo, your brain fizzled out almost at the thought of being sandwiched between them.

Satrou’s blue eyes reminded you of the crystal clear waters that lapped over each other on a hidden away beach, and Suguru’s reminded you of melted dark chocolate, you swore you could almost taste the salt from the water and the aroma from the food.

You sighed heavily and flopped on your bed playing with the frilly edge of your one piece glancing at the camera working up the nerves to start the live, usually, you’d like to record and edit then post but tonight would be a special treat.

Once you were in the middle of your bed surrounded by pastel shades of pink and purple you kneeled next to the toys and turned the camera on pointing it at your face, per the requests from your subscribers, they loved you in soft colors and see-through outfits.

Comments started to roll in the moment everyone was alerted you were online, you cupped your tits and settled down letting your heels rest on your ass. “Hello everyone, sorry it’s been a whole week since I uploaded anything so I wanted to give a little treat, and I’m here to give a shoutout to the two very sexy men who helped me out today.”

On the other side of the screen, Satoru and Suguru sat on their couch tuned into your live stream. “Holy shit, next time she comes in I have an idea,” Suguru murmured, his eyes fixated on the screen watching you rip open the thick plastic.

Little did he or Satoru know that you were actually prepping yourself for them because you planned to invite them over and give them a show that neither will ever forget when you gained more confidence to do so, you gasped when you held the toy in your hand looking at the camera.

They both watched with throbbing cocks as you quickly got up to wash it off before setting back down with an open mouth you swirled your tongue around the head before pushing more of it into your mouth staring at the red dot. “Do you think she swallows or spits?” Satoru asked.

“Swallow for sure, but I’d love to see my load on that pretty face of hers,” Suguru replied with a smirk grabbing the laptop and placing it on his knees as he leaned back letting his friend get a better view as well, this time you were deep throating it with your eyes closed.

You gagged a little bit before removing the toy holding it as you popped the top of the lube and squirted some on the tip before smearing the substance up and down the shaft as you sat up on your knees placing the toy between your legs.

They watched as you slowly slid the head inside you, your mouth dropped open at the feeling of something thick trying to stretch you out. “I’ve always wanted to try double penetration, two cocks splitting me wide open and the cum dribbling out sounds so hot.”

Satoru and Suguru exchanged a look and a smirk before they turned back to the computer watching you drop down more on the toy, your hands gripping a bunny plushie with a pink bow on one ear, your face screwed up in pleasure as you let out a high pitched whine.

Finally, the dildo bottomed out leaving you stuffed full as you rocked back and forth a few times getting used to the sensation of it, everyone could hear the wet suctioning as you fucked the toy faster moaning like a porn star, your eyes fluttered shut thinking about the two men.

Satoru would be on the bottom and Suguru would be behind you as they worked their cocks in and out of your pussy taking turns before both of them slowly would bottom out, you whined thinking about it triggering your orgasm and leaving a creamy ring around the toy’s shaft.

You opened your eyes and read the comments that poured in, some wishing you would have done more foreplay but none of them stuck out to you. “I’m sorry it was fast-paced and had no foreplay, I was super wet to begin with, I have those two on my mind. See you soon.”

Satoru focused on your pout and how soft your lip felt under his thumb as he stared at you through the screen wishing he could reach in it and cup your cheek, the laptop went dark when you ended the video blowing a kiss to the camera.

“She was thinking about us, next time we should leave a comment. Keep her guessing, she was reading them wondering if we were going to say something.” Suguru commented shutting the laptop down and growing excited by the second for whenever you would come in next.

It was only four days after you live-streamed when you stepped back into Satoru’s shop again, a husky vanilla scented the air from the incense on the empty front counter, you sighed and pouted a bit looking around. The color scheme was done in white and gold hues.

They blended perfectly together you thought wandering around the small area, the place before this was a tiny cafe but Satoru added a bit more to it, including the dressing rooms, his office, and a little room that could seat two to watch an adult movie.

A sign taped to the door read: “You make a mess you clean it.”

“Come back for more toys?” Suguru asked stepping out from the back room, the doorframe held beads instead of a door clacked together as he leaned against the counter watching you, his coffee eyes taking in your outfit of the day.

You hummed and walked over to him. “I sure did, but this time I’m looking for more lingerie, and I need a little help I think. What color do you think would fit best?”

Suguru slid his hand over yours turning it so he could intertwine his fingers with yours. “Spin for me, pretty girl.” He demanded in a soft tone, you let him turn you around slowly feeling heat creep up your neck and pool in your lower belly.

“Satoru!” He called out turning his head to glance at the beads before looking at you again with a predatory smile, a second later Satoru ducked out from the backroom seeing you his lips split with a grin.

He hummed his response and looked at his friend then you. “She wants to know what color suits her the best, what do you think?” Suguru asked spinning you once more and hearing them both whistle.

“I would say either white or red, your skin color is the most beautiful I have ever seen before.”

His eyes burned a hole in you it felt like, the gaze intense. “I think I actually have a set that would do well, follow me, princess,” Satoru said stepping away from behind the counter to take hold of your hand before guiding you to the lingerie racks in the corner next to the fitting rooms.

“This one is probably one of my favorites and I can only imagine how you’d look in it,” Satoru whispered bending down, his lips barely caressing the shell of your ear as he stood behind you grabbing the first piece on the rack barely brushing against you.

It was a simple open teddy body harness that showcased your tits and a tiny string that barely covered your pussy. You took it from his hands, being this close to him everything in your brain went haywire, and you didn’t trust your voice not to crack.

His slender fingers brushed along your neck fixing your necklace. “Want to try it on?” He asked opening the door next to him, part of you wanted to invite him inside to help but you kept that on the backburner gripping the hanger and stepping inside the small room.

“I’ll call out if I need help with something, thank you.” You said with a wink shutting and locking the door before shedding your clothes to slip on the new outfit, you could still feel him behind you, his musky cologne invading your nose and any common sense you had melted.

As you twirled yourself in front of the mirror Satoru and Suguru sat in the office staring at the computer, the screen showing you in full HD thanks to the camera they set up the morning after your live in hopes that you’d come back which admittedly look longer than they liked.

Suguru leaned back patting his friend's knee with a smirk. “I think you were right 'Toru, she looks fucking divine in that.” He muttered zooming in on your tits, your nipples perky from the AC that blasted down on you from the ceiling.

“I don’t know if I want to rip it off her with my teeth or hands,” Satoru replied adjusting his dick in his pants and wondering how’d you taste, he could hear your moans and cries play like a record in his brain as you changed back into your clothes none the wiser what was happening.

But if they had to take a bet both men would say you wouldn’t mind it one bit. A few minutes later you approached the counter with a few new outfits and some more toys, something different than what you’d use, a collar and two leashes hoping they’d get the hint.

“How did you like the teddy?” Satoru asked ringing you up while Suguru bagged everything just like last time, however, his hand hovered above the collar with a raised eyebrow while silently nudging his friend's foot, blue eyes saw the new item and looked at you.

“It fit perfectly, you’re right the color does compliment me the best, you’re very attuned to that stuff I see.” You replied taking the bag from Suguru with a shy smile, both of them were a bit intimidating and stood over six feet tall with smiles that screamed sinister.

They both smiled again and nodded. “I am, you should see what else I’m attuned to,” Satoru said taking a page out of your book with a wink.

“Maybe someday, see you two later.” You said blowing them a kiss and walking out of the shop, the warm sticky air made it hard to breathe along with the two sexy as sin men who watched you.

Monday morning came quickly which meant going back to your day job, but when night fell you turned into someone else, a personal pornstar is what some of your subscribers would say but they didn’t know you worked at the local library.

It wasn’t an awful job, minus the people who came in and didn’t understand that phone calls should be moved outside and where everyone else can hear, and usually, you just pushed the cart filled with books to put them up where they belonged which was very easy.

Until you didn’t have your step-stool to help reach the top but you attempted to by standing on your tip toes feeling the bottom hem of your shirt roll up exposing a sliver of your back when you felt someone’s fingertips brush along your spine.

You whirled around ready to give them an earful but clamped your mouth shut seeing Satoru looming over you with a white stick hanging from his mouth, his hair wet and shaggy as he grinned down at you. “Don’t scare me like that again!” You whined pushing on his chest.

He chuckled and moved the sucker to the other side of his mouth, his cheek puffed up from the candy. “I didn’t mean too sweetheart, I was trying to pull your shirt down.”

You huffed a bit and rolled your eyes basking in his attention, he was for sure the sexiest man to ever walk into the library. “Where’s your buddy at?” You asked looking around for the other man.

“He’s back at the shop, why? Did you want him here too?” Satoru teased setting one hand above your head leaning closer, the sweet smell of his lollipop surrounded you both and thankfully no one would be able to see what was happening being in the corner of books no one checked out.

You shrugged in an attempt to show that you didn’t care when you actually did and stared back at him feeling your panties dampen at the sight of him, tall and lanky you wanted to know how his cock would feel or taste inside your pussy and mouth, is it as pretty as him?

“What flavor is that?” You asked curiously following the movement of his tongue that peeked out.

Satoru grabbed the white stick pulling it from his mouth while using his free hand to grab your chin gently pulling your lips apart watching you stick your tongue out immediately. “Good girl.” He praised in a whisper sliding the lollipop in your mouth.

Your fingers curled around his arm and your eyes fluttered shut as you closed your lips while you sucked on the lollipop, an explosion of peaches and cream filled your mouth. The man in front of you was walking sex doing this in such a public place not caring if someone saw.

A small moan slipped past the candy as you sucked it harder opening your mouth a bit to show him swirling your tongue around it while opening your eyes to see him licking his lips while leaning in closer. “How does it taste?” Satoru asked ghosting his fingers over your jaw and neck igniting a fire deep between your legs.

“Sweet and creamy,” You murmured taking the lollipop from your mouth to transfer it to his with a smirk as you ran your open palm up and down his bicep giving it a squeeze feeling him flex under your touch while he took a step closer.

He cupped your cheek pressing himself against you a little bit. “Just how I think you’d taste. That was a sexy show you put on the other night, I can’t wait to see what you do next. But I must know whose going to use that collar.”

“Hopefully you and Suguru soon.” You replied standing on your tippy toes to kiss him on his cheek before walking off with your cart and books and a pounding heartbeat.

Satoru watched your ass as you swished your hips from side to side a bit more than what you needed to do to give him a show while you walked to the next aisle as he followed. “How soon is soon?” He asked with a slight pout leaning against the end of the bookshelf.

“Depends,” You replied glancing at him as you slid a book between another one before picking up the next one seeing that it belonged on the top shelf, “mind helping me out please?” You asked.

He grabbed the book and stood behind you once more pressing his throbbing dick against your ass as he put it away before grabbing another one titled 69 Sex Tips and flipping through the pages showing you the book landing on the position chapter with figures showing the sex positions.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you stared at the three people in a circle doing 69 on each other. “We could do rock paper scissors to see who gets to taste your sweet pussy first, the other night Suguru and I jerked each other off to you, his cock would fit so nicely inside of you.”

Satoru watched your mouth form a small o as you moved your gaze from the book to turn your head and stare at him. “You- oh my God.” You groaned grasping at the sucker stick and pulling it from his mouth to pop it back in yours.

There was nothing left to say but to walk away again with the peach candy saturating your taste buds with Satoru and the sweet flavor, his dirty whispers swirled around in your head until after your shift and when you got home to make dinner and crawl into bed.

All throughout the course of a few months, Satoru and Suguru would pop into the library to talk to you, sometimes they’d come by themselves and whisper filthy things in your ear, especially Suguru.

He always felt warm like he was running a fever, so at your break times when he would drop in you’d lead him to the breakroom and curl up on the couch reading to each other, most of the time it was erotica with light touching to leave you wanting more.

“And she sucked his cock, her tongue swiping on the underside before closing her lips around the leaky head and hollowing her cheeks to take him deeper…do you want to do that to us, my pretty girl?” Suguru asked one Thursday afternoon as you sat in his lap.

Your eyes were glued to the pages listening to his hypnotic voice that whispered dark and husky in your ear, his free hand was wrapped around your waist keeping you still as you rolled your hips a bit to alleviate the pressure that built between your legs.

“Suguru.” You whined resting your head on his shoulder wanting nothing more than to strip naked and let him ravage you on the couch not caring if one of your co-workers walked in.

He closed the book and held you closer to him as you both panted almost in sync. “I know, I know your pussy wants to be played with.” Surugu whispered letting you straddle him to run your fingers through his long hair.

“Friday night I promise to give you and Satoru a little show, so be sure to video chat me before I start recording for my page.”

He smiled and stoked your cheek letting his fingers trail down your throat to your tits tracing the underside of your bra and then your nipple thanks to the thin fabric. “For our favorite girl, we’ll do anything, we can’t wait to see it.” He murmured cupping the back of your neck.

During the times they visited you, they both stroked the fire building between you three until one of you would break down and take what you really wanted. Suguru grabbed a grape from the small bowl you packed in your lunch box and held it in front of your mouth.

He watched you part your lips letting him place the fruit on your tongue and close your lips around his finger sucking a bit as he played with your tongue depressing it before slowly sliding it a bit further making you gag.

Suguru pulled out with a smirk as he watched you eat it before helping you up and off the couch. “Tomorrow evening at seven I’ll give you a video call, be ready pretty girl.”

The next night you sat on your bed with your phone in hand watching it ring, it was well past seven, and still nothing from either Satoru or Suguru, anger pumped through your veins hot and heavy. While neither of them promised it still hurt that they couldn’t keep up on a simple plan.

You jabbed your manicured finger on the red button hanging up before tossing your phone on the mattress before getting up wondering what the hell was happening and why they didn’t call, part of you wanted to call once more before storming to their shop to give them an ass chewing.

The loud ringer of your phone startled you a bit as you wrestled for it under the covers grabbing it to see Suguru video-calling you. Quickly you hit answer and frowned staring at him and Satoru who pressed his head against his friends.

“Before anything is said, we’re sorry. Time slipped from our hands and a group of women came in looking for a bunch of bachelorette party things.” Satoru said first with a small pout seeing the annoyance on your face.

You huffed and held one of your plushies close to your chest staring at them. “Really? Did you both give them extra attention?” You asked trying to keep the jealousy out of your tone but it was very evident which only excited the men on the other end of the phone.

They both looked at each other first then you. “No we didn’t pretty, I promise. They were all over Suguru and they were even touching his hair but we tried to get them out sooner.”

For some reason it angered you more knowing other women were touching them, nothing was even set in stone about whatever was going on between you three. “They were, huh? I don’t blame them.” You muttered looking anywhere but the screen.

You felt like a little kid not getting the sucker they wanted before bedtime, there was no reason for it truly but the idea of another woman touching them had your blood turning into fire. “Are you at home pretty girl?” Suguru asked watching you pout.

“Yes. Where else would I be?” You shot back rolling your eyes.

Satoru hissed like a cat and mimicked one scratching at the air. “Put the claws away kitten, you’re the only customer that gets special attention, do you want us to swing by and cheer you up?” He asked.

Little did you know that they already had a bag packed with toys and items from the shop ready to go whenever you gave your answer. “How are you two going to cheer me up?”

“We have our ways, see you soon kitty cat,” Satoru replied with a wink hanging up his phone and standing up with Suguru grabbing the bag smirking at his friend as they left their apartment.

You waited by your door for what seemed like hours but really it was only twenty minutes when a knock startled you, quickly you looked through the peephole seeing Satoru and Suguru standing there, suddenly the gravity of the situation came crashing around you.

They really were the two best-looking men you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing, both of them lured you with charm and nicknames that left you feeling all warm and gooey inside. You opened the door and let them inside looking at the rain that poured from the sky.

You eyed the backpack on Satoru’s shoulder watching them kick their shoes off and shed their jackets. “I didn’t know we were going to have a sleepover.” You murmured leading them into the kitchen.

They both followed like dogs wagging their tails who knew they were getting a bone, the biggest one they ever had too and that would mean they would need to savor it.

After they fucked you good and dumb they also knew that their plan would fall perfectly into place. “It’s going to be much better than that kitty.” Satoru mused with a smirk as he stepped over to your cupboard opening the door looking for something sweet.

“Oh? What does that entail? Also, I hope you’re not going to eat me out of house and home.”

Suguru chuckled and stayed in his spot in the doorway leaning against the frame looking at you, the outfit you wore wasn’t anything scandalous but you still looked gorgeous and fuckable, everything about you pulled both him and Satoru in.

“If you let him he will, he’s very good with his mouth,” Suguru replied with a chuckle watching his friend then you.

You knew what he was getting out, Satoru turned and looked at you with a wink popping a cherry flavored sucker in his mouth swirling his tongue around it before pulling it out. “He’s right, but we came to protect you from the thunderstorms.” He said in a soft tone.

It was a little secret that you slipped one night when you two were hanging out that you get nervous sometimes in them, you turned and looked at the window watching the rain that pattered against the glass pane.

“My two knights in shining armor.” You teased reaching over grabbing the sucker from Satoru’s mouth sticking it in yours, the memory of the first time it happened you felt your pussy clench.

Suguru stepped in the already cramped kitchen behind you pressing himself against your backside as Satoru did the same only to your chest, your head was squeezed between their chests not giving you a chance to escape.

Satoru trailed his open hands up and down your sides gathering the pooling fabric and lifting it up, Suguru quickly helped raise your arms up so his counterpart could tug the shirt off of you letting it fall to the floor.

“You really are so pretty, and have the cutest pout especially when you’re wearing lip gloss.” Satoru murmrued looking down at you, his hand now coming up to hold your chin tilting your head up while Suguru leaned down kissing the back of your neck.

Shivers raced up your spin covering your whole body in goosebumps, you felt your nipples pebble from the kissing and intense stare off with the blue eyes. Slowly he leaned in making it a tease, dragging it out until finally his lips met yours.

The first kiss between you two was soft and sweet until it got hungrier and deeper as you twisted your fingers in his shirt, you broke the kiss and turned your head to kiss Suguru who held the back of your head slotting his mouth against yours.

You pulled away from him and leaned your head on Suguru’s chest looking at Satoru helping him take his shirt off, everything you dreamt of was finally coming true, the feeling of between being sandwiched between them.

Satoru dropped the backpack and let you undress him. “Let’s take this to the bedroom.” You murmured taking both of their hands letting one of them grab the bag before following down the hall behind you.

All three of you stepped inside, their eyes scanning the walls and decoration before landing on the bed, a few plushies took space up next to the pillows, a four poster bed surrounded a king sized mattress in a color scheme that fit you to a T.

You kissed them both again before unhooking your bra and tossing it in your hamper. “You both know that I wanted you to use this on me.” They both watched you head over to your closet pulling out a small box filled with your toys with the collar and leashes on top.

Both of them stepped forward grabbing the leashes from your hand, the collar it was attached matched the color, they watched with throbbing cocks and slightly open mouths as you put it on, the inside was a soft fuzzy material thankfully.

Suguru pulled you closer wrapping the leather around his fist jerking you forward almost falling into them, Satoru caught you wrapping one arm around your waist. “I jerked off thinking about this, reality is much better though I have to say and being able to hold you.”

Your eyes fluttered shut melting into his arms, they both led you to the bed helping you on it, Satoru let go of his leash giving it to Suguru before grabbing the backpack removing the contents from it, multiple sex toys, and clothes. “So it is a sleepover, huh?” You teased.

They both chuckled as he continued grabbing cuffs and a short bar, again you watched them have a silent conversation before Suguru kneeled next to you helping you lay on your back. “Just for now pretty girl.” He told you taking the leash off your collar.

Their pheromones had you feeling in heat almost watching them both kneel between your legs now, they parted your thighs draping them over their laps before hooking their fingers in your panties and pulling them off.

Your curiosity got the best of you as you stayed silent watching them attach the cuffs to your ankles first, the inside the same as your collar padded with soft fur. “Grab this bar,” Satoru said as he extended it in front of your eyes.

Instantly you wrapped your fingers around it, the conversation was hazy in your mind but it seemed that you loved to spill your secrets to them telling them your darkest fantasies, and after yet again another lengthy conversation they got your permission to do indulge you during the weeks that spanned from then to now.

They were glad you trusted them, it showed in the way you let them move your limbs to their liking until the bar that held your cuffed wrists was weaved between the bars of your bedframe and your legs straight up in the air.

Suguru held the bar and pushed your legs back until your thighs were almost pressed against your ears, the stretch rippled through your muscles adding to the pleasure, with your pussy on full display it gave Satoru the opportune moment to stroke the slick flesh.

He gathered your wetness that webbed between his fingers to rub your clit while his friend took the time to kiss your breasts and nipples. “You really are pretty all around,” Suguru muttered as he pulled away while looking down at his friend slowly sliding two fingers inside you with a squelch.

You curled your toes and rolled your eyes to the back of your head, along with the other secrets you whispered into their ear they knew it’s been almost two years since you’ve been with anyone else but your own hand.

It was the same with them, but they’ve hooked up here and there with each other and you told them time and time again when you three finally did something you didn’t want anything to hinder fully feeling them, it was a dangerous game playing with heat but you were willing to get burnt a bit for them.

Their tongues were like flames stroking the wild fire inside you, they were tearing apart at your seams getting to know the real you before stitching you back together, it was a sick perverse thing to do but over the weeks they were both certain you were their missing part.

Suguru bent at his waist and swirled your clit with the tip of his tongue before dripping more spit onto your cunt and Satoru’s fingers, you moaned and swirled your hips trying to fuck yourself on his digits. “More oh please more!”

Satoru pulled out leaving you aching and empty to remove his pants and boxers getting fully naked before taking the bar from his friend so he could do the same thing until all three of you were naked.

Sweat was like a second skin clinging to your flesh, heat gathered around your bodies filling the small room, they could smell your arousal that pooled between your lips creating a sticky mess that Suguru leaned down and licked clean.

His tongue went up and down making sure not to miss a single inch before going back to your clit and sucking on it which had your back arching off the mattress as you gripped the bar that held your wrists.

While Suguru was eating you like a man starved, Satoru took the time to grab a mini wand vibrator from the bag turning it on with a mad grin as he bent down to pepper your breasts in wet kisses just like Suguru did a few moments ago.

He swirled his tongue around your nipple before drawing it in his mouth using the wand to place it over your nipple on the lowest setting, you could feel it drawing pleasure from the deepest part of you. “Satoru - Suguru!" You whined wanting more than what they’re giving you.

“What is it, pretty girl?” Suguru asked sitting up now and taking the wand from Satoru to place it on your clit, his lips shone under the dim light from your slick and his own spit, he turned the vibrations up watching you wither on the bed.

It was hard to explain the feeling they gave you, between the intense pleasure that made you feel like you were floating and the way they cooed over you like you were their girl, and maybe part of you wished that you were.

Satoru slid his fingers inside your pussy again finding a slow pace while he grazed your g-spot, he was sure to massage it a few times before curling and scissoring his digits while Suguru circled the blunt end of the wand over your clit.

You tugged on the restraints pouting and pushing your lips out wanting one of them to kiss you, Suguru leaned over slotting his mouth against yours and pushing his tongue inside and swirling his with yours while pressing the wand a bit harder.

Pulses of pleasure thrummed through you with exhilaration, moaning into Suguru’s mouth which he ate before pulling away and looking down at you with a smile. “You’re doing so good for us, can you take more?”

“Yes, I can take whatever you give me.” You replied with a breathy tone, Satoru grinned and held the back of Suguru’s neck pulling him closer and kissing him deeply before pulling away to remove the bar from your bed frame.

Both of them put you in a new position with your head hanging off the bed which Suguru held up kissing you again as he kneeled next to the side of the bed watching Satoru grab the bar and push your legs back again.

“If it gets to be too much pretty girl tap one of us twice.” Suguru reminded you in between kisses as he laid your head down slowly and gently, his cock sprang in your face thick and leaky, you watched him not able to see Satoru anymore from this position.

You nodded and opened your mouth letting Suguru feed his dick into your mouth until he heard gagging, he pulled back a bit and began to rut his hips pumping in and out as you let him, your throat becoming his own personal fucktoy.

Satoru watched the scene entranced by the two of you. He almost forgot what he was doing in the moment, his eyes were blown with lust and desire for you and Suguru. While they knew what they were doing was slimy and gross as hell, lying and manipulating you into liking them, but they didn’t care if it meant having you.

He watched Suguru hold onto the bar pulling your legs back more making it easier for Satoru to hold his shaft and rub his head between your lips, the tip caught the hood of your cunt a few times, and your clit visibly throbbed from being so turned on and the teasing.

Satoru slowly thrust into you holding the bar until he bottomed out feeling you tighten and flutter around him, he looked down at where you two were connected seeing the sticky wet mess and your pussy lips wrapped around his cock so prettily as he patted the bed for the wand grabbing the end and turning it on.

Low vibrations filled the room along with your gargled moans, Suguru looked at your lips swollen and wrapped around the base of his cock with a groan, you hollowed your cheeks meeting his gaze with wet eyes and he swore he could see your pupils turn into hearts.

He glanced at his friend who was still staring at his cock slide in and out of you, it was a sight to see, the way you molded around his dick it was almost like you were meant for him, quickly overstimulation set in from them fucking you and Satoru’s fingers playing with your nipples.

The smell of sex hung heavy in the air permeating everything, you inhaled through your nose deeply before relaxing your throat letting Suguru fuck it harder, his free hand which didn’t hold the bar reached out to grab Satoru’s shoulder pulling him in for a sloppy kiss.

You watched their tongues tangle together while both of them fucked you, Satoru’s cock drove deep almost kissing your cervix making you squeal around Suguru’s dick before sucking harder, your tongue curled a bit around his head when he pulled out a bit to give you a break.

“Look at you doing such a good job taking us.” Suguru praised stroking your head with the back of his hand holding the bar in place making it easier for his friend to plant his fists on either side of you while rocking his hips and brushing your clit a few times.

The white-haired man smirked down at you as he tortured you with a slow pace and brought the wand back to your clit. “She really is, huh?” He asked ending the sentence with a broken moan making his friend chuckle while he jerked himself above your head.

Your spit made it easier to do so, the wet sound roared in your ears as he moved closer letting his cum shoot out on your chest and tits which Satoru cleaned up when his head dipped down to lap at the white essence before he pulled you back on the bed all the way.

“Holy fuck.” You muttered watching him while he stopped the movements of his hips as he licked you clean before propping himself up on his elbows and looking at you with a smirk licking his lips.

Suguru parted your lips watching you lean forward to kiss Satoru who spit the cum in your open and waiting mouth, his blue eyes were hazy as he took in the sight of you shiny with his best friend's load.

Before you could say or do anything else Satoru slowly pulled out, you whined at the loss of him then they both worked to remove the bar and cuffs massaging the skin that was surrounded by the fuzz. “You really did so well, but we’re not done yet, pretty girl,” Suguru told you with a smile.

He kissed your open palm staring at you while Satoru worked his fingers around your ankles, then again they both flipped you on your hands and knees with Suguru under you and your legs tucked under you and on either side of him.

He helped you hover above his cock before slowly pushing inside you bottoming out, the stretch was enough to have you clawing at his abs while Satoru pushed you down until your ass was high in the air making it easy to give your left cheek a small swat.

You yelped and jerked forward wrapping your arms around Suguru who held you close to him, your pussy felt so warm and tight he feared he’d cum way too quick for his liking. “Just stay still for us, okay? We should’ve told you to put in a cute little butt plug in before coming over.”

Satoru chuckled and spread your ass cheeks looking where you and his friend were connected with a grin. “I don’t know why we didn’t but I have a little something for you kitten.” He murmured.

You couldn’t see what he was doing but you could hear it, he was looking through the contents of the items on your bed grabbing the lube and plug he washed beforehand. “We know how much you love it, and we’re going to teach you how to take two in one.” Suguru teased nipping at your neck.

The cool gel was applied to your hole as Satoru slowly worked the plug inside your ass watching you open up like a flower, you really were made for them he thought before he slowly slid his finger down to your pussy tracing your lips before pushing it inside alongside Suguru’s cock.

You gasped and threw your head back pushing back against him and letting out a broken moan, they both helped you bounce up and down before Suguru had you sitting up straight to latch onto your nipple while Satoru added another finger.

They both worked in unison stretching you out, Suguru moaned around your tit as he laved it in wet kisses as Satoru kissed and nipped at your shoulders, his free hand pinching your other nipple. “You sure you can take us?” He whispered in your ear.

You nodded letting Suguru wrap his arms around your waist pulling you back down on top of him making it easy for his friend to guide his lubed-up cock against your stretched-out cunt, Satoru slowly slid himself inside you with a low groan in his throat.

All three of you stayed still getting used to the feeling you found Suguru’s mouth in a hot kiss before glancing back at Satoru who already knew what you wanted as he leaned in and kissed you then Suguru.

Then all of you were engaged in a messy kiss, you weren’t sure whose tongue was whose as hazy bliss swam heavy through you, it was hard to keep yourself upright from Satoru and Suguru fucking you dumb like they had planned.

You squeezed your pussy in quick successions grinding your hips down as they gained speed, while Suguru pulled out Satoru thrust back in creating the perfect rhythm thrumming the orgasm that sat in your belly like a guitar string.

With the butt plug it was becoming too much, your cunt spasmed around their cocks throwing your head back howling almost from the climax. “Oh, my God!” You cried out.

“There you go, keep coming for us pretty girl, you’re doing such a good job.” Suguru praised kissing behind your ear filling you up with his own orgasm feeling Satoru pull out while he slowly removed the butt plug taking its place.

Your mouth dropped open in a silent moan curling your fingers into Suguru’s hair grinding your hips again humping them both riding out your high. “You sound and look so pretty when you cum for us, no other men will ever bring you this much pleasure,” Satoru whispered in your ear.

And he was right, there was no way you could ever be with another man and not think about this with them, the pleasure they single handily gave you was more than you’d ever thought you’d experience in this lifetime.

It wasn’t like they saw you as some sort of toy to keep or trophy to show off even though they planned to do that later, it was the obsession that quickly took hold of them worming into their hearts like ivy on a building

You collapsed on top of Suguru feeling Satoru do the same to you, his chest pressed against your back, all three of you panting and breathing heavily coming down from your highs. Suguru rubbed your shoulders kissing your cheek gently helping you down from the high.

Your brain felt foggy with the orgasms you weren’t left to wonder how they even knew where you lived.

feedback such as comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, those kind words mean a lot and encourage me to do more writing ♡

#✍🏻minx writes #tw: manipulation #tw: noncon recording #jjk smut #gojo smut #jjk x reader smut #gojo x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #satoru smut #Suguru Geto smut #suguru geto x reader #jjk x reader #geto smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #geto x reader

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loganlermanstanaccount · 7 days ago

Text

Rigor Mortis (part 11)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 10, Part 12

summary: You and Miguel spend the day together. You get a surprise visit.

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of microaggressions and racism in the workplace (projecting bc my ass is tired)

a/n: uhhhhh. heyyy.... so i took a cute little break 👉 👈

Join my taglists here

wc: 7.2k

Oh! and I finally made the series' playlists (very open to requests) <3

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cracks in clay, poured over

Cold. The slow drip of an IV seems to echo in that little room.

She feels cold; the kind that drapes over her like a second skin - slimy, slick, and it makes him shiver. Pale; her hands barely have enough strength to curl around his anymore. His little girl, and he watches as she takes shuddering breaths. In, out. In, out. The shaky rise and fall of her chest and it’s all he can do to watch, hunched over metal railing with a certain kind of dedication. His eyes creak. His back groans.

There’s an emptiness to hospital hallways, he thinks. That thought comes with traitorous relief - balled up like chewed gum at the pit of his stomach. He wants her to rest; to take a breath that isn’t heavy with the weight of living. Even in a tangle of wires and tubes, and the steady metronome of a heart monitor to punctuate a mess of thoughts, she still looks like his. When he blinks, he sees her: rosy cheeks and chubby fingers entwined with his. He curls into them now, with rough palms softened by love - which he will dirty just to keep her safe.

Gabriella is a force of nature. A supernova: bright, bright light at the corner of someone else’s universe - but certainly the centre of his. And when she smiles; oh God, when she smiles; he sees his mama, he sees Gabi… and sometimes, he sees himself.

It’s not a case of roaring thunder in place of quiet sky. A flash-bang in the night felt more like a whimper: hushed tones in a doctor’s office that came with a wringing of hands. And dread - settling amongst the room like a lead balloon - that was what he remembers the most. It's a feeling he'll never quite forget. The doctor; a genteel, younger man with more worry lines than Miguel himself, he had thought. Gabriella was prone to poking at the folds beneath his brow, at the sides of his mouth that curled around the very same nose he had passed on to her; smoothing them out like lines in the sand.

Like pockmarks and furrows in sand washed away by the sea. El Mar - but Gabriella had trouble rolling her Rs. She would get there, he had always thought. He would not brandish a wooden spoon or chancla as his mama was prone to do. He would be different. Better - provide her with the space to make the mistakes he never could. If it meant a lifetime of forehead kisses and boiled candy stuck to the roof of her mouth, he wouldn’t mind.

The sea. Maybe he should take her to the beach - a proper one, not the murky waters he had grown up with. Her hand is too pale, and Miguel can already hear his mama complain; fussing over his little girl. Has Gabriella been eating properly? Has he? She would pinch his cheeks and squirm, hissing at their sallowess. Too much like your father, Conchata would say.

He's decided. Yes, that's just what they need. White sand stretching out as far as the eye can see - azure and turquoise and deep, deep blue.

He blinks. Miguel, ever perceptive, swipes it away from your skin. A sliver of bare flesh against his, your arm across the couch as you lay across the pillows. He woke up to this, to you; a fleeting nap that takes you both to a bright midday. Tangled up in blankets, a mess of his limbs and yours; and yet, you still feel…

Cold.

You stir. Like a lamb woken from fresh grass, he watches as you stretch; shaking away gentle sleep. At least Miguel has the sense to look away, to pretend as if he hasn't been staring at the gentle rise and fall of your chest, nor the stray hair that peeks out from the nape of your neck. He traces it with his thumb, with a tenderness that makes his head hot and heart heavy. A warm blush spreads across his face as you huff, blowing air that makes his curls jump. Despite himself, Miguel smiles, feeling the warmth. It's lop-sided, gentle where his face is sharp and he allows himself to soften - if only for a little bit.

“You okay?” You croak, voice still heavy with sleep.

He smiles, daring to curl his fingers around yours.

“M'better now.” It's barely a whisper, and so he clears his throat. “You still seem tired, sweetheart.”

When your face scrunches up into that adorable pout, he laughs the kind of laugh that echoes throughout his whole body; deep and sonorous.

“What’s so funny?” You're whining, but your face cracks into a small smile. And like the sun peeking out from the horizon, he feels its warmth spreading from his side; onto everything your light has touched.

“Nothin’”

His breath hitches as you come closer, placing your head on his chest.

“You're a fat fucking liar.”

Yep, he thinks. And you don't even know the half of it.

There's something about domestic bliss that twists his heart into knots. Most of it is you, of course, neatly pressing him out and spreading him on wooden pegs like fresh laundry. A life together, like this…?

Fuck. Maybe he hasn't had enough sleep.

Miguel hums, quietly turning your palm in his, tracing its lines like a lovelorn sap. He likes your hands, for some reason. They are smaller than his, gentle in their curve and crackle, fitting exceptionally well in his own.

He frowns.

“I think I'm happy.”

…and then he's biting his lip like he's said something he shouldn't. What should be an off-hand comment, swept away by the tide, makes you sit up abruptly.

“You think?” There's no malice in your voice, just confusion.

“It just feels…” He can't even look you in the eye, deciding to inspect your hands instead.

“Different?”

You finish his sentences now, great. Miguel feels like a walking cliche; all butterflies and shaky hands and cotton in his mouth.

In an attempt to sound indifferent, he hums. If you can see through his paper-mache facade, you don't show it.

“Different.” He rolls it around on his tongue, wanting to know its taste. If it fits, how it fits, and where you come into the equation. Different. Good different? It's a tentative thought, creeping into the back of his mind like a thief in the night. Whilst he wouldn't usually entertain it - as it was a dangerous thought, the kind that leads to others, thoughts of skipping through meadows with his hand in yours, or picnics on the beach, or–

“You think that might be because you had a full 8 hours of sleep?” You snort, stretching out. More thigh peeks out from under the covers.

His throat goes dry. Focus, Miggy. Yes, he wouldn't usually entertain it, but it felt far too good to think about the both of you, together, under different circumstances.

He would've met you at an overpriced coffee shop on his way to work. Or maybe he would catch your eye on the subway, and you would flash him a smile too beautiful to ignore in return. One to keep, like the expectant one you give him now.

You're waiting, he realises. Waiting for him to say something; something that gets stuck in his throat. He hopes not to spill his guts like this: a tangle of maybes and might'ves. The reality is less exciting. It comes out wrong - flat and pathetic and lifeless.

“7 and a half.” He says, shaky. Sleep, right? You said something about sleep? “The other day, I had 7 and a half.”

Miguel forces down the person-sized lump in his throat. You are stunning; sleep-rimmed and tangled up between his legs and that worn blanket.

Maybe we could've been more.

~~~

He’s an idiot, you think.

“And what good did that do you?” You retort, still sharp despite a blossoming headache at your temples.

“And what good did that… you're the last person to talk.”

For all his degrees, his accolades, his middle-school-science-fair-certificates; he could barely manage to take care of himself. It worried you in a way you were sure was common decency, like the pang of sympathy one would regard a puppy too tired to keep its head up.

“You look like shit, Mig.” And he did. In that frustratingly perfect way he was prone to, of course: rugged and ragged and handsome; messy, but without a hair in place. An oxymoron. A paradox. A fool with 2 degrees pending. A loveable idiot - certified, absolutely.

“You look like shit–”

You put your hands over your eyes like glasses, like a child on the playground. “Only one of has eyebags the size of Mars–”

“ –and only one of us has a hangover the size of Mars,”

“I do not.”

“The 3 tequila shots you took last night say otherwise.”

You descend into a heap of giggles, unable to refute his claims. Goddammit, does he have a point. You hate him for it; his smug tone, wagging a knobbly finger in your face; but you know there's no malice. What might've been turned into an argument oh-so long ago, stays childish and playful and maybe even a little… fun? There is a shine in his eyes that you have so dearly missed, and a hint of a smile you know he is barely clamping down on. It brings a warmth to your chest far greater than any alcoholic buzz - tequila shots or otherwise - ever could.

Wait. How did he know you had—

“Took you long enough.”

He's chuckling, reaching over for his phone discarded on the rickety coffee table. With a couple quick swipes you're greeted with a plethora of drunk messages sent by Lyla; the majority of which are unintelligible. He hands the phone over, seemingly more interested in satiating his appetite as he heads for the kitchen, leaving you ample time to scroll through. You recognise one or two videos from Lyla's private story, and sure enough, there you are - knocking back shots offered to you like it was your job. Watching it back makes you wince. You were so sure of yourself last night, chock-full of liquid courage, it almost seemed like water in those dainty glasses. There’s more, as you scroll up: including candids of you at the club, some you don't quite remember posing for, others with Lyla's slim arm draped around your shoulders like they belong there.

Unsurprisingly, most of them are of Lyla; drunken selfies sent with a string of messages you were barely able to make out. It all makes you wonder just how well Miguel knows his friend, able to respond accordingly to her nonsense string of characters and emojis. Considering it had taken you this long to be barely conversational in Miguel-ese, Lyla would prove to be something else entirely.

There's a peek of something as you scan through last night's messages. You don't mean to pry, but one thing leads to another, and you get stuck on a conversation that occurred not too long ago.

[Sent: 15:32]

Are you guys still on for tonight?

[Received: 15:32]

👍👍

[Sent: 15:3]

Okay, cool. I won't be home to drop her off, though. Is that okay?

[Sent: 15:32]

👍👍

“I messaged her this morning,” You start, making space for him on the sofa. “No response. Do you think I should give Lyla a call?”

“Don’t take it personally, sweetheart. Sometimes she falls off the face of the earth and then you find out she’s in Indonesia with a cocktail by the beach.”

You must make a face, because Miguel comes closer. It’s tender, and much more intimate than it should feel; and all you can do is short circuit as he brings his hand to your cheek.

His thumb rest at the cleft of your chin, gently moving your face to look him in the eye.

“I’ll give her a call, if you like.” He presses a gentle kiss to your furrowed brow, and you can barely breathe. “You’re much too pretty to worry. I’ll sort it out.”

When he pulls away, all you can manage is a weak nod. All that pomp and self-rightousness that filled you not even 5 minutes ago dissipates like a limp balloon with just a flash of his smile.

“You hungry?” He asks.

“Starving.” You say with a grin.

~~~

You hear his voice first, the mellow timbre and its slight twang rumble through the walls. Your door is open in the hope that Miguel will saunter in and… and do something resembling earlier on in the day. Considering the time, it was little more than delusion - you can count on one hand the amount of times you’ve seen Miguel up past 11pm. Whether it was work, or studying, or a popcorn movie on the couch, he could never make it through the night. More and more, you’ve found him passed out on the couch, one arm slung lazily over it’s back - but that was another matter.

Now, your door isn’t too open - you wouldn’t want to seem desperate - but wide enough that you can catch whispers of his conversation. Miguel seems to speak in more grunts and huffs; and you can almost see his scrunched brow and crooked grimace. The other voice is tinny, but clearly male - spouting garbled, frantic words that you can’t quite catch. It’s odd; whilst you were no stranger to late nights, your roommate started fighting sleep at 7pm sharp - so what exactly was going on?

You creep towards the door, snaking your head around its edge. There he is; down the hall and shadowed by the doorway with his phone flat on the dining table, perched on its lip with nothing but a plaid pair of pants on. He looks bedworn and exhausted, sure - but gorgeous in the kind of way only oils on canvas can capture. With his hand scratching at light stubble, you watch as he takes a deep sigh.

“It’s– Pete, it’s–”

More jumbled words from the phone.

“I know, man.” He pauses, hesitant. “Are you… have you guys tried Lyla?”

He says the words like they’re bitter, acrid on the way out, eventually producing a deep frown as he listens. The image sticks with you, for some reason: hunched over, shoulders slack like a ragdoll, and picking at the loose black-and-red threads. There's a flash of something you can taste - like blood after a sucker punch - and he flattens, roughly swallowing as he rubs his temples. There’s an ache, there - and it wasn’t just a migraine from all that salty junk. His eyes are sallow, without the lustre you had grown so accustomed to. Where did he go? Your Miguel, saccharine and sickly-sweet?

A trick of the light, you decide; just the morning sun.

You are too lost in your own thoughts - vivid ones, of takeout noodles and orange chicken - that you barely notice him move. Almost a second too late, it registers, and you scramble to your bed in a flurry of limbs, managing to close the door just in time. You hear heavy footsteps, and there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in!”

Miguel pops his head through the door, shirking away from the bright light.

“Jesus, you need all these lights on?”

You roll your eyes. Laptop on, a desk lamp, a standing lamp, etc etc. Warm lights, made even cosier by pillows and plush bedding. The very same bedding he fucked you in the first time, and the next, and the next. Clearly, he couldn’t recognise ambience if it whacked him in the face.

“Did you want something?”

When once he would’ve been taken aback by your gall (and you too, you suppose, as Miguel had never been the most tactful), he simply purses his lips.

“I… I'm babysitting for Peter.”

“May's coming over?” You visibly perk up, and it makes him smile.

“I wish you got this excited when I come home. Yeah, she is.” He’s still picking at the loose fibres of his pants. “I'll try to get her to bed as soon as possible, but she's a little hurricane, so be wary of the noise.”

“It’s pretty late, Mig. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah; something came up and their usual sitter isn't available. It's the least I can do.” He gives you a weak smile

“Okay. Thanks for the heads up.”

Despite this, he lingers for a bit, clearly antsy. “With traffic, I’m not sure when they’ll get here. Pete lives just across the way, but...”

“But?”

“I’ll probably have to stay up for a bit.”

“I can keep you company.”

“No, no, I can’t ask you to do that--”

“Alright, alright!” You throw your hands up, huffing dramatically. “Mig, there’s no need to beg. Give me five minutes.”

He gives you a weary smile, before turning to leave. But he pauses at the doorway, and as if in a trance - tightening grip, clenched jaw -

“You look nice.” He says, low and slow.

“Thanks.” You manage to squeeze out. Ever so slightly, you squeeze your thighs together too, for good measure.

With one last look he drags that heavy gaze away from you, giving your room a once over.

“...now I know why the light bill’s so fucking high.”

~~~

The doorbell rings when the two of you have settled in - head on his broad chest and something on the TV. Whilst you don't know how you ended up here, you do know how it ends; he puts a boring documentary on, you proceed to fight sleep before hands wander, the room gets a little heavier, and…

The doorbell, right. He shuffles out of your grip, gently placing your head on the sofa. You feign a yawn as you shift, watching the wide expanse of his back as he answers the door. Unfortunately, he's put a shirt on, but you are still mesmerised by the way that baggy t-shirt clings this way and that. You sigh at the sight - it’s much too late for unabashed yearning - burying your cheek into the pillows.

The door opens. You manage to spot a flash of red peeking over your roommate.

“God, we are so sorry. We don't know what's gonna happen to my Dad and–”

Miguel brings a hand up to stop her. She is clearly exhausted, eyes-red rimmed like she's been crying; with a tight hand around the strap of a sling bag. It's full to bursting, likely haphazardly prepared - stuffed with diapers, snacks, toys and God knows what else. She scratches at the nape of her neck, pulling at choppy hair scraped into a bun. With her bangs pinned back, you can't help but think she looks less like the character she plays on TV and more like a person - experiencing the kind of grief made less glamorous by makeup and bright lights.

“It's okay, Em.”

Em. You can't see his face, but you can see MJ's; and you notice the way she softens at the nickname.

“I haven't heard that one since college. Thank you, Miguel.” She gives him a watery smile.. “I've got some food for her in the bag, extra milk, those peanut cups she likes, my personal and my work phone number, my mom's phone number in case you can't reach me or Pete, diapers, wipes – hypoallergenic, she can be a bit sensitive – a-and we are trying self-soothing with her stuffy because she can get antsy before bed.”

Her eyes are a little bloodshot, but she manages to hand off the bag, before turning to talk to a little mop of red that peeks out from behind her. May's chubby fingers are clamped tight around her leg, but with some gentle coaxing, the little girl steps into your apartment.

“Hi, May.” Miguel smiles, one you imagine is dazzling kryptonite from her favourite uncle, and she puts her small hand in his.

“Bye, honey. Be good for your Uncle.” MJ gives her daughter a gentle hug, brushing back her hair for a kiss. Little chubby fingers try to do the same, and it's a display that makes your heart melt.

“Stay safe, MJ. Say hi to Peter for me?” You call out over the lip of the couch.

“Of course, sweetheart.” She flashes you a smile, and you are windswept by its candour.

Once she leaves, May is uncharacteristically quiet. She seats herself on the sofa, little legs dangling, unable to reach the floor. Miguel slides off her backpack and jacket - brightly coloured plastic adorned with a kid's TV show - with an ease and gentleness you didn't quite know he was capable of. There's something to be said about a man of his stature - tall and hulking, with hands that could easily palm a basketball - using those very same hands to carefully unbutton the loops on May's jacket. Despite her muted panic; the gradual kind, the kind that wells up like the tide before a storm and comes with a wobbly lip and balled up fists; his voice stays calm and soothing in the walls of your little apartment. It is well-practiced and unfazed, exceedingly gentle in his approach. He'd make a good dad, you think.

She's restless. You both try your best, coaxing her to eat mushy peas and applesauce, with little to no success. May clearly isn’t pleased - scrunching up her face with disgust.

“I feel you, kid.” You sigh, plopping the dinner spoon into the green mixture. “Not the most appealing.”

“But it’s good for her!” Mig yells from the kitchen, digging around for something in the cupboards.

She makes a face, looking to you for some comfort. All you do is shrug, tugging at your collar in an exaggerated manner. She almost smiles, and so you make your eyes go wide - pulling a peal of laughter from the little girl. It is contagious, and makes you beam from ear to ear.

“That doesn’t sound like dinner.” Miguel breezes past with something in his hand.

“I think they serve prisoner’s better food. Or food that looks less grey, anyways.”

“Don’t be a smart-ass.” He hisses, seating himself on the other side of the little girl. In his hands are a cute little bowl - pink plastic and toddler sized. It comes with a spoon that fits in Mayday’s palms just-right, and he scoops up some of the mixture the bowl.

You’re a little confused. “Where did you fi-”

“She’s a big girl.” He says simply, facing her and mimes taking a spoonful. You watch as her eyes get a little rounder, shining and intelligent. You can almost hear the gears moving in her tiny little head. “She can feed herself. Can’t you, May?

“Mig, I don’t know if that would work.”

And like a curious little dove, her head cocks this way and that, with a deep frown on her face. Pudgy fingers wrap around the neck of the spoon, and clumsily, she brings it to her lips. It falls with a clatter, and mushy peas splatter everywhere.

There’s an I told you so on the tip of your tongue, but he tries again; cooing at the little girl, encouraging her to take the spoon once more. He’s gentle, but doesn’t talk down to her - and like she can understand every word, her eyes shine with recognition. Now, you’re not the best with kids - a baby cousin or two notwithstanding - but its hard to believe he hasn’t babysat before. Miguel O’Hara; lab tech, masters student, and clearly, world class Uncle. You’ve got a million and one questions, but you are unable to do anything but watch - all the while, gears turning.

She gets increasingly frustrated. In an adorable, gap-toothed way, but the toddler can’t seem to get a good grip. You watch as the spoon falls: clatter, hollow clang, conk; and every time, Miguel picks it up, wipes it off, and encourages her to try again.

Clatter.

“One more time, sweetheart,”

Clang.

“You were so close! You want to try again for me?”

Thunk. You've got an idea.

“She’s not going to eat, Mig.”

He looks up. You’re handing him her jacket, and pulling on a long-discarded sweater.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

~~~

It fills you with a certain amount of delight to say something that surprises Miguel.

“I know a place.” You say, somewhat smug.

“What do you mean, you know a place?”

You shrug. After a couple of quick phone calls, you did, in fact, know the perfect place for a late night wander.

“The park on 10th?”

“Nope.”

“If it’s The Rec Centre on Chelsea Ave, it’s closed. I grew up with the guy who runs it, and–”

“Nope.”

“Where are you taking us? May, she’s going to kidnap us and sell our organs on the Black Market.” She’s got her little palm in his, and gives you a look that says ‘Him first’.

“Don’t want your organs. You’re Mexican and lactose intolerant; can’t imagine the damage you’ve done to your gut.” You stop them, crouching down to speak to May directly. “Do you like animals?”

Her face shines with recognition. She nods profusely. Miguel seems somewhat horrified, but it just looks cute, to you.

“That doesn’t reassure me, sweetheart.”

“I know.” You give Miguel a dazzling smile. Somewhat smug turns into very smug, very quickly. “We’ll take the subway!”

~~~

The Nueva York Research and Conservation Centre is quite the gem, Miguel quickly realises. It's the kind of thing that predates him, and even his oldest neighbours; immigrants that came to Nueva York in the 60s and 70s. He remembers a handful of school trips in elementary and middle school - traipsing around the old building with a clipboard and stubby pencil in hand. Even when he was a kid, the centre had paled in comparison to the Zoo up in Central; that was shiny and modern, with actual lions (plural) and giraffes. Of course, his school couldn't afford the accompanying exorbitant fees, so they settled for the converted municipal building and grounds; housing less exciting animals.

But he still remembered the first time he had walked through those double doors, and past the little ticket office after being handed the paper stub.

He liked that there weren't any cages. At the time, there was thin plexiglass separating the people from the animals, but they had space to roam, and were never the flashy sort - meerkats were the highlight of one trip, and an alligator snapping turtle the next. The centre was temperature controlled and meticulously maintained despite the clear understaffing; he always enjoyed the trek on cobbled path, and the insect building and reptile room never failed to disappoint.

There were always researchers hanging about there. Not in white lab coats and clicky pens like he had once thought; but sturdy trousers and frazzled smiles. They were kind, and easy going; always happy to talk to the little boy in clothes two sizes too big.

Maybe May was too young to understand, but he felt it immediately. That rush of excitement as you lead them on a long forgotten path, and pull out a key that unlocked those very same double doors. Nostalgia, perhaps, bubbles up from his fingertips.

“Hey, Ernie.” You nod towards a night watchman, perched at the reception desk. With his head buried in a magazine, you are satisfied with a nondescript grunt. Security clearly hasn't changed.

May gives a little wave, and Miguel can't help but coo. She's squirming, feeding off of his clear excitement and dragging him towards you with a surprising amount of force.

You lead them to the outside park. The Centre is dark, for a while, and after some rattling, and the careful click of a few switches; Miguel feels like a kid.

The lights are on, illuminating an acre or two of land, and he is transported to being 6 and then 7 and then 11 - clipboard and pencil in hand.

May is agape, eyes wide at nothing but fenceposts and plexiglass. The enclosures are empty with the majority of the animals asleep; yet she is fascinated with the landscape, so much so that she paws at Miguel to hoist her up. She's on his shoulders before you can orient yourself.

He hears you laugh first. Bright, gorgeous laughter like morning rain on a warm day. You laugh and clap with wonder, and pinch the little girl's cheek good naturedly. She returns it with her own, pointing at ‘funny trees’, their green tongues lapping at the bright light.

“We'll need to be quick.” You finally say, leading them once again. He catches a sliver of neck, pretty and supple as you turn your head towards them. Fuck.

“How do you have access to this place?”

“I know a guy.”

“Not a chance.” A guy, sure. It sounds like bullshit, but he can feel the confidence radiating off of you. It makes him wonder… is this another ex? Someone who works here, no doubt, but with so much pull you can walk straight through after closing hours?

“We'll meet ‘em, in a bit.” You trail off towards a plaque, reading out the inscription. “The Giant Armadillo, Priodontes maximus, is a giant insectivore – that means eats insects, May – characterised by its hinged bands and pale head. Found in much of South America, this – oh, look!”

Miguel follows your line of site, to some movement within the enclosure. Between large, grassy mounds, sure enough he spots the pale snout of the animal. May squeals with laughter, pointing toward the movement.

You put a finger to your lips, and ease her out of his grip. You get closer, whispering excitedly in response to the little girl's babbling. He doesn't follow, hands buried deep in the pockets of a brown leather jacket.

We'll meet him. He plays it over and over and over in his head, letting it rattle and clank before sinking to the pit of his stomach. It tastes familiar: heavy and bitter. He's thinking of a man from a nicer background; kind, maybe, and softer. Walks around in suits and shiny shoes; who owns shit, who doesn't rent. Someone with softer hands than his own.

“Mig?”

Your hand is on his cheek. He’s pulled out of that haze, and straight into the warmth of your eyes.

“Y-Yeah.” He croaks.

“You okay?” Your brow is scrunched up adorably, little Mayday hanging off of your arm. He can't make you worried.

“Just fine, sweetheart.”

“Well, come on then. I’d like you to meet someone.”

You pull him towards the Reptile Room; a brick and mortar building with the metallic sheen of a lizard on its face. You pull out more keys, sifting through a whole jumble. Before he can stop himself, he's staring at you; intense and stormy. That sinking feeling deepens. You look up, and give him a smile. Like emerging above troubled water, he takes a deep breath and feels a little lighter.

“Liv?” The door is open in no time. You're calling out into empty space, boots click-clacking on tile. These lights are on, but dim, matching the hot and humid air of the building. “Liv!”

Miguel pulls at his collar, following you deeper inside. A service door; amidst enclosures of leafy green, pebbles, sand, and more; leads to a modest lab. Amongst vials labelled ominously and rows of benches that smell like disinfectant, lies a nest of hair crudely tied back.

Liv pops out from behind a clunky monitor, beaming from ear to ear. They're older, with a sharp jaw and soft features framed by wrinkles and smile lines.

“Doctor Olivia Octavius,” You smile, “Meet Miguel.”

Hand outstretched, Liv clears a path of pens and junk to reach his hand. It’s firm, he notices; with inked scribbles on the underside and a stack of bracelets at their wrist. They look familiar, but he can't quite place the name.

“How do you two know each other?” It spills out like May's mushy peas, and he hopes his sweaty palms aren't too noticeable.

“She used to work here - night shift.” Liv adjusts octagonal glasses, jewellery clinking.

“I was only a janitor, Mig.”

“The best damn janitor around. And good company during late nights.”

You get a playful nudge in the side for your trouble, and the two of you share a knowing look.

“And who's this?” Liv crouches, attention turning to May who is engrossed by a tangle of colourful wires.

“Her name's May.” He grunts.

“Your….” Doctor Octavius looks between you both, choosing their words carefully. “Daughter?”

“No, no.” You laugh - a little too much, for his liking. “We're babysitting - Liv, he's just my roommate.”

Miguel winces. Twice. He chooses to ignore the raised eyebrow and pursed lips, lest it blossom into any awkwardness.

A beat passes. “Does May like lizards?”

She nods enthusiastically, hissing like un vibora. She’s almost there, he thinks, and Miguel can't help but smile.

“We've got some speckled lizards in tank 3 and 4 - donations from our freshwater contacts in Panama. You want to show her around?”

“Sure, but what about–”

“You guys head off, I've got some paperwork to finish off. 10 minutes? If she's gentle she can touch one or two.”

Satisfied, you nod, looking at him expectantly. Your eyes shine just like May's, and like his once upon a time, with a childlike wonder that makes his heart ache. You look happy. God. He'd do anything to keep you smiling like that.

But he's tired. Finally, the night has caught up with him, and he just doesn't have the energy anymore.

“I'll stay.” He says gently. “Need to sit down for a bit anyways.”

He must imagine it, but for a second, you falter. Big, round eyes that shimmer in the harsh lab lights; and for a millisecond, he sees it dull. It’s gone in just a moment. And then you give him a warm smile, with a touch on his arm that seems to linger. The two of you beam, and you bound off with the kind of vigour he hasn't felt in years.

The click-clack of keys fills the room. He takes the opportunity to look around, noticing plaques upon plaques in the little corner of the lab. PhD. Masters. Accreditation from organisations with long, winding names. Doctor. Bioengineering. A foray into experimental physics. Pictures of her shaking hands with flashy names - and he recognises one with wide eyes.

“That's Marcus Kirby.” They barely look up.

“I… I know.”

“I worked with him before he headed up Alchemax, and well before the position was passed onto his son.” There's a hiss, and Miguel hears the violent rattle of the keyboard come to a stop. “I remember when he was still a kid, actually.”

He hesitates. “I watched one of your talks in Prague…. the one on metaphy–”

“Metaphysical dimorphism? Or was it the metagenesis of the perpetual plane? I can never remember these things.”

“Something like that.” He grunts.

“You were there? Should've asked for an autograph. Wouldn't be worth much, though.” A little snort catches him off guard, but he shakes his head.

“I was 17 - so, no.”

“Ouch.”

Ouch, indeed. He had loaned that particular talk from the library, a tape played over and over until Gabi had thrown a spoon at his head for the crime of astrophysics at breakfast.

“Do you still work with them?”

“Oh, I've been back there a couple of times; despite the complaints otherwise, mind you; their conference centre is world-class –” They stop themselves. “You meant–”

“I meant Alchemax.”

They snort. “We went our separate ways.”

Why? He can't help but wonder; considering the equipment and brilliant minds the company has access to. Especially someone with the tenure and experience of Doctor Octavius - he could only dream of that kind of influence. Imagine the good he could do, the lives he could change…

Wonder turns to indignation, which turns to unfair assumptions; he looks around at the dingy workspace and curls up his nose. Disgust. From a well-respected, world-renowned bio-astrophysicist to this. Without the rose-tinted goggles of his youth, Miguel can't help but feel the walls closing in - a future career flashing before his eyes. From a dim rent-controlled apartment to an equally dingy desk in the corner of nowhere. He can't have done all of this for nowhere.

Doctor Octavius squints. The click-clack of keys stops. The air leaves the room, leaving only a cold chill.

“What exactly do you do?”

“Genetics and Bio-engineering department.” He puffs out his chest, but is unable to hide a slight shake to his voice. “I'm a lab assistant at Alchemax.”

Liv gives him a blank expression.

“So you're young.”

“I guess.”

“Unexperienced. You've barely taken your first steps into this world. I bet you still have dreams of saving the world. What are you working on, a cure for cancer?”

His jaw shifts.

“A joke.” They smile stiffly. “Research isn't like that. It's stuffy and bureaucratic and painfully capitalist. Everything requires a thousand yards of red tape until it doesn't; until they ask you to fudge numbers for the sake of shareholder value. Until they axe vital projects that affect the bottom line.”

They step closer, boots thudding on cheap linoleum.

“It’s hard, to get them to see you. It's even harder when they've already made their mind up. I gave 12 years of my life to that place and you'd be wise to quit whilst you're ahead. Whilst you're young.”

Their eyes are empty. A quiet, cold rage swirling for the last 10, 15 years. He recognises it, of course he does; it's the very same rage that sits at the pit of his stomach - with the dense heat of a white dwarf. In that way, he thinks, he's collapsing in on himself; one that precedes an abcess into the very same perpetual plane Doctor Octavius built their career on.

“Alchemax is doing things no one could've predicted 10 years ago - our genetics trials are world-class -” He starts a spiel he is well versed with – but it sounds hollow even under these dim lights.

“Is that what Marcus is going with these days? Plasticky and insincere?”

“I–We are saving the world.”

He's met with a withering look; that echoes the indignant sighs from teachers of his youth.

He remembers small squares of paper, handed out to kids in the Reptile house. Brightly coloured facts pasted along its route; detailing the kind of research undertaken at the conservation centre. For a 7 year old Miguel, he was wholly absorbed with the worksheets - three words at the top of a blank table. Hypothesis. Observation. Analysis.

Hypothesis.

“If this a personal gripe–”

“Of-fucking-course it's personal.” It was spat out, with more emotion he thought they were capable of. A pause. “Did you know Marcus Kirby commissioned the research for near-unlimited nuclear energy? Did you know we actually built it?”

“You're–” His throat is dry. “You continue to make claims without evidentiary basis.

Observation.

A slight bobbing of an Adam's apple. The tightening of the invisible string that slowly winds their shoulders back.

“We could have powered hundreds of thousands – millions of homes. For much cheaper and cleaner than what we have now; clogged up by fingers sticky with oil money, most likely. And the proprietary technology is collecting dust, somewhere in that fucking building. Knowing Marcus, he's using it as a paperweight.”

And his head is a blur. Miguel isn't stupid; he sees Alchemax for what it is. A business, at the end of the day. He thought childlike naivete was a distant bygone but for some reason, he's shaken.

Can he believe what he hears? Is it just personal pettiness at the root of all this venom? Sure, he doesn't get invited to after work drinks. Sure, he isn't involved in the office gossip; in signing birthday cards and impromptu lunches out. Sure, just once, he'd like to get more than lab reports and risk assessments dumped on his station. He even finds himself missing stilted small talk; picking his fingernails as his coworkers talk around him, like he isn't even there. No man is an island in his field of work. For every discovery and pseudo-cure-for-cancer there are hundreds of lab techs doing the grunt work. So he knuckles down and does the only thing he knows how to do. He keeps his head down; because he already has a job to do, he doesn't need to be liked.

Analysis.

He sees it now, clear as day. A coffee cup gripped too tightly, a flash of fear when he clears his throat. Little comments, and then big ones:

Drug tests at your stage are mandatory, O'Hara.

Ronnie’s been working here a long time. There's no need to be aggressive, O'Hara.

We want you front and centre in this picture, O'Hara, but don't forget to take out the trash on your way out.

But what he has always attributed to the status quo, to his prickly personality, to his distinct lack of charm and unwillingness to be loved - could it be something else? When they look at him, who do they see? Is it O'Hara, the underpaid, awkward intern - or Miguel, brutish and brash and scary?

A great crash and in its crescendo is Doctor Octavius, hand outstretched, half bitten fingernails and papercuts all the same. He's different, he knows that. He's intimidating and gruff with a slight propensity for violence. But he's saving the world! He’s making a difference, one meagre test tube at a time.

And then there’s that voice again, hoarse and buried deep deep down at the pit of his stomach. With all that they've asked him to do… what does he have to show for it?

You come to mind. Kind eyes and an even kinder smile. The way you look at him, the way you touch him - like he's delicate, like he's capable of breaking. He thinks of soft nights spent in your arms and between even softer sheets… and not once have you shirked away or asked him to flatten. Acceptance; whole-hearted and unconditional; tastes much too sweet between your thighs.

“Mig!” He hears a squeal from out and down the corridor. Footsteps on the linoleum are followed by a pitter-patter, before you and May arrive at the door giggling uncontrollably.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He softens like butter under a hot knife, because of course he does. It’s you.

“Come look, come look!”

He throws a glance to Liv, their white hot grip on the desk relaxing. They tuck a strand of loose hair back and sit down, shuffling through papers like nothing had happened. The tension dissipates - that was your doing, he thinks.

“It's a… Mig, God, there's a tank with an oc…”

“Cephalopod, actually.” Doctor Octavius smiles, picking up a battered coffee mug to lead the way. “You would not believe the hoops I had to jump through to get her here, but isn't she a beauty…”

He trails behind, flashing you and May a shaky smile. The frazzled scientist is knee deep in another story - betrayal, heartbreak, a tentacled hero, and more. But when Liv looks back, for a moment, he sees it: the very same look he had given unapologetically just a few minutes ago.

Pity.

Rigor Mortis Taglist: @bunnyrose01 @lavenderslemonade @tsukkie-daisuke @malxoxo @thekidscallmebosss @vvitcxen @theyoutubedork @doublevirgogirl @jnghs @taleiak @noblesavagex @cumikering @rebeccawinters @evanpetersrightbigtoe @saucypeanuttt @pix-stuff @maliarenee @truthuntolddd @honeycovered-bandaids @aiyaaayei @aeeliy @amplsblog @sikrettt @opuffmango @spear-bitch @maddielikesmoths @lemonpepsi @sweet-strawberryhoney @lacedinweb22 @bubbsby @jing5uan @ellaandorersoct @hibarbiesblog @valentxi @kittym1ka @delulu-dia @melovetitties @yohoe-hoe @acollectionofcells1 @froggi-mushroom @thund3rthighs

@bonthebunnie @natthernandez @strawberrymiguel @twwcs @mammonispunk @um-well @renn-pumkin-head @ietherealkistar @smallishbook @sonderspider @spear-bitch @cryingintheclubdhmu @mageneire @notdyl4n @slezhara @funkyfoxx0 @smol-beb @iceclaw101 @lixhizy @errorundyne-exe @707xn @beantokki@twentysomethingwereyote

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #rigor mortis 😼#miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #kat_writes😼#spiderman 2099 #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #angst #mutual pining

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paranoiddreams · 11 days ago

Note

Hello! It's currently Halloween where I am, so what about reader taking any of the JJK men to Halloween Horror night where they get chased by clowns and all kinds of creepy cosplay. 100 points if any of them scream like a girl or puff up like a cat.

You can choose which JJK men. 😊

Happy Halloween 🎃

SCREAM! (HC)

🎃 [Inc.] Satoru, Sukuna, Yuji, Megumi

🎃 Warnings!! - fem!reader, some swearing, descriptions of (fake) blood/gore, movies/shows like The Exorcist, Chucky, Stranger Things, The Last of Us, Beetlejuice, and The Haunting of Hill House, cocky Satoru (what’s new), Megumi’s is terribly sweet, lol, Yuji’s is actually a lil sad I didn’t intent that lmao

🎃 A/n!! - Hello!!! Thank you so much for the ask, I’m currently working on another ask, but thought that I should get this one out before Halloween ends! If I don’t manage to, I’m sincerely sorry, but I hope you enjoy this anyways! I also haven’t been to any of the haunted houses I mention, so if the experience is inaccurate I apologize hehe. Have a happy Halloween to everyone who celebrates it, and a wonderful night to everyone who doesn’t!🫶🏻🤍

🍡Satoru🍡

Satoru is ALL FOR the idea

In fact, he was the one who brought it up.

Going to a theme park to get a good scare, AND have his girlfriend cling to his arm the whole night?

That’s a plan if he’s ever heard one.

“You can hold onto me if you get scared, love~”

Y/n looks up at Satoru, a smile playing on her lips. “Me? Are you sure you won’t get scared, Toru?”

Satoru laughs, waving off the idea with his hand. “You kidding, love?! I’m the strongest, how could I get scared?”

He’s eating his words by the third haunted house.

The first was alright, just an alien invasion walk through, which he found himself practically flying through.

You, in the other hand, took his offer to your advantage, and held onto his arm every time a slimy animatronic creature popped out of the wall.

“Don’t look so smug, Toru,” y/n scoffs as they walk out of the first haunted house, her heart still racing a bit.

“I don’t even need my 6 eyes to tell that you’re scared, baby! It’s okay to admit I was right—I usually am,” Satoru smiles, leaning down to kiss her cheek, only to be met with a scowl.

“Whatever…”

Boy are you happy when you both enter an exorcist themed haunted house, and Satoru’s body stiffens significantly beside you.

It’s dark, and thick fog fills the house as you both walk through.

There’s screaming and growling in the distance, which seems to move around the house.

You’re holding onto Satoru’s arm even tighter, but his smug smile is nowhere to be seen.

The last room of the house comes into view, a wave of relief washing over the couple as they walk eagerly to the door.

When Satoru twists the handle, the old wood creaking loudly, an actor dressed as a priest jumps out.

“Help! Help!” The man screams, his white collar stained with blood. He’s then seemingly dragged to the side of the room, a growl emitting from the corner.

Satoru walks hesitantly inside, y/n clinging to his side. Another actor, a little girl resembling the same one in the movie this house took inspiration from, is standing over the priest, blood and black liquid dripping from her mouth.

Y/n screams, running towards the exit on the other side of the room. She drags Satoru along, his face pale and frozen in fear.

Yk the face Satoru pulled when he first met Megumi?

Yeah, that’s what he looks like when you both leave the haunted house.

He can feel his heart beating rapidly, but puts on a brave face for you, of course.

That is, until the third, and last house of the night.

You insisted, since the haunt was based off of the show “The Last of Us”, and you both had watched it earlier that year

But little did you know, Satoru was nervously biting the inside of his cheek each episode.

But how could he say no to you when you looked so sweet, looking up at him with those adorable eyes of yours???

“Last one. It’s…getting late.”

Y/n looks up at Satoru as they both walk towards the, apparently, last house of the night.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared, Satoru Gojo,” she smiles, reaching a finger up to poke his cheek.

He grabs her hand, stopping her from touching his face. “Don’t tease me, love, you can’t talk,” he says, putting her finger between his teeth.

“Shut up!” Y/n pouts, pulling her finger back.

“Trust me, you’re going to want to leave after this one,” Satoru says, looking up at the large haunted attraction they’re about to enter.

Satoru thinks he’s got everything together when you first walk in, more interested in the set they’ve built and how accurate it is to the show

Until the first clicker pops out and he’s brought back to the scenes of the show that made him nearly jump off of the couch.

He quite literally screams like a little girl, his mask falling off, which only blinds the actor decorated in the costume that scared Satoru in the first place.

Now they’re both screaming, and you’re off to the side with a shell-shocked expression, wondering to yourself how this even happened.

“Baby…don’t be mad, please?”

“Satoru…” you grumble, looking out the window of his car, “we’re banned for life…”

“Honestly…” he sighs, “wasn’t even thinking of going back after that.”

Y/n glares at him from the passenger seat, her arms crossed over her chest. But when she remembers the screams of her boyfriend, the actor, and a little boy behind them who happened to witness the incident, a snort escapes her lips.

“You’re such a dork,” she laughs, leaning over the center console to grab his hand, kissing his knuckles. “I didn’t want to go back after the first house anyways.”

🫀Sukuna🫀

He is not amused one bit.

Why the hell would humans create a whole event just to dress up and scare themselves? It’s stupid!

But when you ask him so sweetly to attend with you, he can’t find it in himself to say no.

“This night will be a waste of time,” Sukuna grumbles down at y/n as they walk around the crowded amusement park, actors dressed as demons, vampires, clowns, and zombies jumping out to scare people.

When one of them, a man in an elaborate clown getup, comes up screaming, honking a horn in y/n’s face, Sukuna can feel his anger boil. It takes every ounce of his cursed-being, and a harsh squeeze of his hand from his girlfriend, for him to compose himself and walk away.

“Sukuna, do not—“

“What were they thinking?! Getting in your face, invading your space like that!” He grumbles, his hand still in y/n’s. “Assholes…”

You decide to take him into a haunted house, hoping it’ll be a little less invasive.

There are various options every year, but you’re happy that this year includes a movie you both watched, and Sukuna didn’t seem too annoyed by:

Beetlejuice.

He even chuckled a few times!

“Oh? That movie? Yes, I remember,” Sukuna says, recounting the movie as soon as y/n points to the cryptic house in the distance.

Surprisingly, it doesn’t take much effort for her to take him inside of the attraction; he was practically the one dragging her in, actually.

With a wicked smile, Sukuna looks at the surroundings of the house as music blares through hidden speakers, the familiar purple and green theme of the movie throughout. He holds y/n’s hand while walking through the halls, seemingly unfazed by the actor leading them through, and the animatronics jumping out at every corner to scare them.

He starts to feel his distaste for ‘frivolous human events’ quickly turns to amusement when y/n practically clings to him even more throughout the house. Every jumpscare, loud noise, or enthusiastic actor that pops out and sends waves of fear through her body no longer gets a death stare from Sukuna; rather, he finds himself laughing at the little effort it takes his girlfriend, relishing in the feeling of priority he gets every time she squeezes his fingers or bicep.

When they come towards the end of the house, and the infamous character of Beetlejuice comes out himself, y/n is initially really giddy and pulling Sukuna towards him to take a picture.

But when they go, one of the huge, iconic sandworms from the movie pops out in front of them. That, including the cackling laughs of the actor portraying Beetlejuice, elicit a horrified scream from y/n, while Sukuna is openly chuckling as she pulls him out.

He’s shaking his head as you both leave, but can’t help the small smile on his face when he looks down to see you still holding onto his muscular arm.

You’re even laughing now, telling him how much of a thrill that was.

He thinks he’s starting to understand why humans come to places like this by the time the moon has risen high in the sky, and a glint of exhaustion sparkles in your eyes.

As the car drives down the nearly empty highway, soft music playing from the radio, y/n leans her head on the window. Her eyes flutter closed every few moments, the memories of that night flashing in her mind.

“Hey, brat,” sukuna calls softly from the driver’s seat, his hand gripping the steering wheel, “you’re that tired, huh?”

Y/n lifts her head, looking over at her boyfriend in the sliver of moonlight pouring through his window.

“Yeah,” she hums, resting her hand atop his on the center console, “I had a lot of find today, Kuna.”

Sukuna thinks about suppressing his smile as he usually does, but when he looks over at y/n and sees her sleepy eyes, he can’t. She won’t even remember this tomorrow, he thinks.

“I did too, surprisingly.”

Y/n lifts her head slightly, a smile slowly forming on her lips. “You did?” She asks. “You really did?”

“I really did,” Sukuna sighs, looking at the road ahead. “Human’s aren’t entirely stupid, I suppose; but the whole Halloween tradition is still meaningless to me.”

Y/n giggles, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. “So you’ll go with me again next year?”

Sukuna turns his head to look at her, a flash of amusement in his eyes. She wants to go again?

“Silly girl,” he smiles, lifting her hand up to his lips, “you want to indulge in something that made you shake in terror again?”

Y/n shrugs her shoulders, blushing a bit at the feeling of his lips against her skin.

“You scare me, but I come back to you every night, don’t I?”

“Hmm…you’re very right, little lamb.”

⭐️Yuji⭐️

Another boy who’s all for it

He’s actually been to many Halloween themed parks ever since he was a kid, his grandpa usually taking him.

“He was a sucker for a good scare!” He’d tell you, an enthusiastic smile on his face.

Sobbing and crying.

So ofc, you’re putting on your bravest face the whole time in order not to ruin his night.

“Babe! Babe! Look, there’s a house for stranger things! And the Exorcist, annnnd Chucky! We have to go to the Chucky one, please baby?!”

Y/n, looking around with a subtle sweat building at her hairline, sends him the best smile she can. “Y-yeah! Let’s go, Yuj…”

Yuji takes his girlfriend’s hand, dragging her along like a kid in a candy store. He points out each detail of the park, screaming and cackling every time an actor jumps out to scare both of them.

Y/n on the other hand…is a mess on the inside. She uses every ounce of her being to put on a smile, and force out those breathy-fake laughs she hates doing so much.

But it’s all worth it each time she sees Yuji’s perfect smile, or hears his infectious laugh.

Yuji drags you to the Chucky attraction first, a giddy pep to his step.

You’re trying not to shake too much as screaming and music boom from inside the house, grabbing onto your boyfriend’s hand tightly.

But of course, your sweet, sweet baby Yuji only takes this as your equal excitement, dragging you faster towards the house.

The walls are painted bright shades of yellow, red, blue, and decorated with various pictures of the doll the house is based on, music and childish laughter flowing through the speakers hidden throughout.

“Woah! Look at how elaborate this place is!” Yuji couldn’t be more excited, looking around with his big, curious, brown eyes, and a smile.

But y/n, she can only focus on the anxiety creeping up her spine as they walk through the maze-like halls, a constant feeling of fear nagging at her. She tries to shove it down, but each and every time the red-headed demonic doll pops out of the walls or paintings, she can’t help but scream like a little girl.

Yuji doesn’t really notice, too busy screaming and laughing himself; only, he’s thrilled to have the constant rush of fear flowing through him.

Y/n, standing next to him and squeezing his hand, is starting to chip away at her pride and confidence.

It isn’t until the stranger things haunted house that Yuji realizes something is wrong with the way you’re acting.

Throughout the first half of the tour, you seem fine, gazing at the LED lights and elaborate set pieces that are so similar to the show

But when the first loud bang, and cloud of thick fog, rolls in, he can practically feel you shaking next to him.

“Baby…are you okay?”

Y/n looks up, Yuji’s face illuminated by the red LED lights surrounding them. “Yeah, what are you talking about, Yuji?” She smiles back at him, swinging their arms together in between them as they walk.

Yuji decides not to push her any further, instead continuing down the twisting halls of the haunted house.

But when they both turn a corner, and a large demogorgon rips through a slimy, grotesque ‘portal’ in the wall, y/n looses all confidence, her terrified state finally coming to fruition.

This time, Yuji isn’t laughing at the high-tech animatronic jump scares. It takes one glance over at his pretty girlfriend’s face twisted in a genuinely horrified scream for him to pick her up bridal style, and run towards the exit.

It takes at least five minutes of you reassuring him your fine before he puts you back down lmao

He’s so worried, pressing his fingers to your pulse every few minutes to check if your heart is slowing down.

He genuinely feels so so bad for not noticing your fear sooner, feeling like the worst boyfriend ever.

But you assure him it was you who didn’t want to show your fear, putting on a face for him.

“But…why didn’t you just tell me, y/n? We could’ve left way earlier!”

Y/n looks down at the wooden picnic table they snagged, picking at the decrepit wood. “I know…but you were so excited, and I didn’t want to be a big baby about it.”

Yuji’s heart breaks, and he leans over to wrap his arms around you tightly. “Baby, please, you could never be a big baby about anything,” he says into her hair, “if you’re scared of something, hell, I’m terrified of it. We never have to come back again.”

Y/n pulls away, looking into his eyes. “No, no, Yuji, we can’t! You love this place, we can—“

“No,” yuji pouts dramatically, now acting as if he was the one who was scared out of his mind a minute ago, “I’m scared. I wanna leave.”

“Yuj—“

“Please?”

Yuji looks at y/n with those damn puppy eyes, and she can’t help but laugh. “You’re a dork, you know that?”

Yuji just smiles. “For you, and only you, my looooveeee,” he says, dragging out his words for emphasis.

As they both walk back to the parking lot, looking for Yuji’s car, y/n looks back at the amusement park in the distance.

“You sure it’s okay we leave, Yuji? I know you and your grandpa came here every year…”

Yuji stops, his pink hair blowing in the night wind as he looks down at his perfect girlfriend. He smiles, and ruffles the top of her hair.

“Yeah, well my grandpa would much rather me spend my time with the love of my life than at a stupid theme park that’ll come back next year,” he says wholeheartedly. “He would have loved you more than a stupid tradition.”

🫐Megumi🫐

Okay, be warned, if you take this man to any kind of theme park, he’s GOING to be that nonchalant-doesn’t gaf kinda guy

So when you decide to take him to Halloween Horror Nights, you’re expecting the same kind of behavior from him.

BUT NO!

This man is on guard from the moment you both get through the gates

He was complaining about how expensive the tickets were, before he stopped and looked around, eyes wide and completely silent.

“Megs? Are you okay?”

Megumi is too concerned with the man in an elaborate zombie costume a few feet away, his eyes slanted. Y/n recognizes the look in his eyes as the look he has when he senses cursed energy in an area they’re in.

But when he takes her hand ever so subtly, she knows that isn’t the case.

“Are you…scared, honey?” She asks in a hushed tone, holding back a laugh.

Megumi’s azure eyes dart down to hers, his lips forming a thin line. “Y/n…” he says in a warning tone.

“What?” She exclaims. “I’m a little nervous too, don’t worry baby—“

“I’m not scared.”

That man does not want to admit he’s scared JSHEBSIWVVW

But by the time it gets darker, and you both start walking around more parts of the park, stakes start rising.

Actors in makeup and costumes jump out and chase you both, eliciting screams and laughs from you, but DEATH STARES from your poor boyfriend🥲

“Megumi! Stop looking at them like that when they scare us!”

Megumi looks at y/n, an annoyed huff escaping his lips. He opens his mouth to say something, but a man in clown makeup and a colorful-bloody costume slides past them, honking a loud horn in both of their faces.

Y/n jumps, squeezing Megumi’s hand, while he practically yanks her into his arms, almost resembling a cat when it’s fur puffs up in fear.

“Megs—“

“Let’s go to the ice cream stand.”

He’ll say he wants to get a food item from every food stand you both pass, but in reality he just knows the actors can’t get too close to them there HAHAHAH.

He’ll end up spending all of his money (that Gojo gave him for his ‘little date’) on drinks and food for you both.

You’re not complaining, thinking it’s cute that your strong-brave-sorcerer boyfriend is scared of humans in costumes.

That is until he’s down to only a few bucks, and you both know you can’t avoid the park anymore.

“Megumi, do you want to go back home? We don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” y/n whispers in her boyfriend’s ear, pulling him into a secluded alley.

He looks down at her, bringing a soft hand up to her cheek. “Baby, I don’t want to ruin your fun,” he says, genuine guilt in his tone. But she can also sense the anxiety and fear in his touch.

Y/n smiles, putting her hand on the back of his caressing her cheek. “Honey, my night won’t be ruined as long as you’re here with me,” she whispers. “It’s no fun when one of us is having a good time and the other is scared.”

For the first time that night, Megumi smiles, leaning down to kiss y/n’s forehead gratefully.

“Okay, baby…let’s go home and watch that one movie you wanted to—what was it called?”

Y/n’s eyes light up, an enthusiastic sparkle in them.

“Terrifier!”

Megumi’s faces falls a bit, but being scared by a movie on the couch with his girlfriend is way better than being jumpscared by strangers in costumes.

“Yes, that one.”

Special thanks to @gamer-kat for the amazing request!! Hope you enjoyed ml🩷

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skzdarlings · 9 months ago

Text

mine ; lee minho x reader

original ask: requested by @tattywood. “Can you please do ❛ you're mine. you've always been mine. ❜ with Lee Know? I just know you’ll come up with something amazing! 🩶"

pairing: lee minho/reader content info: another pair of star-crossed lovers lol. reader is kissed by a different guy without her permission. possessive sex. unsafe sex. lots of biting and marking and grabbing. word count: 3700 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

You finally escape.

When the date is over and your supposed boyfriend leaves, you run out the back door. Your parents are distracted, waving goodbye to your boyfriend as he pulls away in his expensive car. They chat between themselves on the front porch of the family estate.

“Such a remarkable young man,” they say. “So wholesome. So intelligent.“

So rich, is what they really mean. Because he is not wholesome; he is a bully and a bigot at the best of times. He derides anyone he deems beneath him, which is just about everyone. He is also not intelligent, as true depth of intellect is revealed in conduct. Someone that cruel and ignorant is not intelligent. You have engaged in more stimulating discourse with birds.

But he is wealthy. Your parents picked him for you and have been forcing the relationship along, contriving dates without telling you he will be there, inviting him into your home, encouraging his empty and shallow affection. You encourage nothing, sitting stiffly whenever he touches you: an arm slung around your waist, a hand on your lower back, a kiss on the cheek.

Maybe you were naïve to think it would not escalate before its time, that you could bear it cordially until his interest withered and died. Foolish. He is not here for you but your name. He does not care how you feel. He does not care if you want him. He wants the money and connections and power, sharing a bed with your parents through you.

Today he cornered you when you were alone. He backed you into the wall and kissed you. An unwanted kiss is a disgustingly slimy thing, all tongue and teeth and the bad, unfamiliar taste of a vile man’s breath.

Your whole unlived life flashed in your mind’s eye. Every second was irredeemably awful.

So you run. Out the back door, to the garage, weaving around your father’s cars. Your old bike is hooked on its rack and you lift it down with some grunting effort. You are dressed for a date, wearing a pristine ivory dress your mother picked, white lace stockings, and delicate flats. It is not the ideal outfit for riding a bike. It is a pretty but flimsy thing. Summer nights are warm but there is a crisp breath on the wind as the sun sets.

But if you stop for even a second, even just to change clothes, even just to catch your breath, then you will never get away.

You swing onto your bike and escape via the back lane. It is a long ride across town but your adrenaline propels you onward.

It is very obvious when you have crossed into new territory. Across the park trail and over the railroad tracks is a different world. The houses get smaller, more ramshackle, junk piled around the fully abandoned abodes. Even the lived-in homes have old trucks and rusted goods stacked on their lawns. It is a consequence of impoverished anxiety, hoarding in fear of one day having nothing.

Indeed, a very different part of town.

Your parents are probably furious they cannot find you, but they will assume you ran to a nearby friend’s house. If they knew where you really were, which friend you went to see, they would surpass furious and venture all the way into horror.

But they are far away now.

You feel nothing but relief as the air changes. You know it is the chill of a summer night as the sky turns blue, but it convinces you the air is clearer. You exhale and feel as though you are releasing a breath that you have been holding all day.

Your journey takes you to a familiar yard. You remember the first time you ever visited, standing so small and uncertain on the front steps, waiting for a kiss you actually wanted.

A kiss that never came.

You park your bike against the side of the house. You walk up the front steps on shaky legs, weak from speedy riding.

You open the screen door to knock on the inside door. While you wait for an answer, you fiddle with your appearance, adjusting any evidence of wind-swept dishevelment.

Oh, you are so nervous. You were so hellbent on just getting here, you did not register any feeling beyond determination. But now you are standing on this porch in your flimsy white dress, the sun set, the day done. You are doing something you should have done a long, long time ago and suddenly fearing you are far, far too late.

No answer comes. You knock again.

Your stomach forms a pit you hope you will eat you whole. Is he ignoring you? No. The windows are shut, the blinds closed. He cannot even see you.

You take a step back. Even with everything sealed shut, you should be able to see a hint of light. The house is small, a single story. There are only so many places he could be.

He isn’t home, you realize, first with relief that he is not ignoring you, then with dejection. Of course he’s not home, you tell yourself. What were you even thinking? Silly girl. Riding all the way out here, expecting him to be sitting around and waiting for you. He has a life of his own. He probably doesn’t even think about you. You’re pathetic.

You know you are being a little melodramatic. Your emotions have been running at an extreme all day. They finally become too much to bear. You sit down on the steps and cry.

Some time passes. You eventually calm yourself enough to wipe your eyes. You feel the cold more acutely now, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth.

You are not sure what to do now. You refuse to go home, knowing what awaits you. You have nowhere else to go. Your future is murky, which is still more comforting than the vision of it when your boyfriend forcibly kissed you.

You sigh. You know if you wait long enough, your friend will come home and help you. Even if he doesn’t want you, even if he can be a bit standoffish at times, he has the warmest heart you know. You met doing volunteer work, in fact. You know he will help you like he would help anyone in need.

It does not mean you do not feel pathetic, curled up and shivering on his porch steps. You are debating a course of action when a truck rolls into the yard with a flash of headlights and a noticeably hiccupping engine. It pulls around the side of the house.

You stand and take tentative steps to follow. You are still and quiet as the rough rumble of the truck comes to a wheezy stop.

The driver door flies open. He jumps out, cursing. Your breath catches and all your hypotheticals dissipate in wake of the reality of him.

Lee Minho.

He is wearing his old, dusty leather jacket, something of a signature piece due its reliability. His jeans are torn at the knee, likely a legitimate tear and not a fashion statement, his old work boots a bit scuffed. He is a working man of limited means and nothing functional goes to waste.

He is beautiful as ever. Dark hair falls across his forehead and he pushes it back with a forceful rake, the softer pieces fluttering forward again. He has an athletic frame, but delicate features despite his near-perpetual scowl. When he does laugh, it is a hilariously boisterous sound.

He is scowling right now. Cursing to himself as he stomps around the beat-up truck. He wears a carabiner with a bundle of emergency tools, grabbing a miniature flashlight to guide his way. He props open the hood and starts rustling around inside. He curses again, then he puts the light away so he can reach inside with both hands.

You do not mean to startle him. You thought he might have seen you, observant as he is, but apparently the truck has him distracted.

“Minho,” you say.

You cannot see him too well in the dark, but you hear the distinctive thud of metal as he undoubtedly smacks his head on the open hood. He curses louder this time.

There is a small light on the side of the house. You step towards it at the same time.

He is rubbing the back of his head, frowning, but he comes to a total stop when he sees you. His eyes widen ever so slightly, his brows drawn in confusion. He stares intently at you.

“Hi,” you say.

He just keeps staring.

“Um. I was just in the neighbourhood,” you say. “I wanted to see you. I hope you’re doing well.”

He drops his arm and it swings at his side. He continues to stare at you, the furrow in his brow more intense.

“Right,” you say. You feel a catch in the back of your throat. Fortunately, you have cried all your tears and will not make a fool of yourself in front of him. More of a fool, that is. You want to say so many things but you cannot think of a single word that suffices.

I missed you so much, you think. I think about you every day. Have you thought about me?

It sounds so clingy and pathetic. Your boyfriend derides such women and their neediness. Minho is not a man like that, though. He has never spoken so disparagingly about someone. You know that, but the words catch nonetheless.

You exhale a shaky breath, looking aside at nothing.

“I’m sorry,” you finally say. “I probably shouldn’t have come here. It’s been months since we last spoke. I know we’re not really friends anymore. I just had no where else to go and I…”

“You were crying,” he says.

You look at him. His expression has not softened. It is still that same scrutinizing stare. His gaze is intently locked on yours, on eyes that must show the evidence of your crying.

You wipe your face quickly, embarrassed. Your gaze lifts when he takes a small step towards you. He reaches for you, as if he means to wipe your eyes himself, but then he catches the sight of his own hand, covered in black grease from the truck.

“Shit,” he says, and snaps his arm back.

“Minho,” you say, your heart fluttering just from the suggestion he was going to touch you. A small touch from him means more than anything.

“Princess,” he says, an old affectionate nickname for you, though he speaks it rather dryly. He is still frowning. “Are you hurt?”

“Maybe,” you say. When he reacts physically, his shoulders stiffening, you quickly add, “Not like that. Emotionally, I mean. I just… I think I ran away from home.”

“You think,” he says flatly.

“Well, I didn’t really think it through, to be honest,” you say shyly. “I just… I couldn’t stay there anymore. You know what they’re like.”

He flinches as if the memory comes with a strike. You feel embarrassed, remembering too.

You and Minho became fast friends through your mutual volunteer efforts. You thought nothing of inviting him to a neighbourhood party at your parents’ house. He wore his nicest shirt and fresh pants, but as soon as everyone found out where he came from, they wanted nothing to do with him.

You are embarrassed to say you did not even notice at first, naively taking politeness for granted. He had to explain it to you, then you saw their two-facedness everywhere and felt horrible.

You stayed on his side of town after that, at least until your parents put their foot down. They didn’t want you developing feelings for that kind of boy. You insisted he was just a friend, even while already in love with him. His biting wit and good heart had you in thrall.

You were in denial about your parents being bad people. You wanted to believe they had your best interest at heart. They were just set in their ways. They wanted a good life for you. You told Minho to just give them time. He let you go. They introduced you to your new boyfriend the next day.

Minho takes a breath. He shoves his tongue into his cheek, looking pensive. You are thinking of something to say when he nods his head.

“You look cold,” he says frankly. “Let’s go inside.”

You nod, following him to the front steps. He grabs the porch rail and jumps the steps in an effortless swing. You shuffle behind him while he unlocks the door.

He says nothing, just nods at you. You follow him through, closing the door while he bends down to unlace his boots. He kicks them to the side while you step softly out of your flats. When you meet each other’s eyes, you feel a spark.

You stood in this very spot a few months ago, almost nose to nose, arguing about your parents and what to do. You knew, deep in your heart, the conversation was not about a mere friendship. You both had stronger feelings, but you were both scared to act on them given your precarious circumstance. He did not want to risk everything while you were indecisive. You wanted to keep everything.

You have lived a life of great privilege and you are used to getting everything you want. You have had to confront reality, that you cannot always have everything.

So, if you can only have one thing, you want him.

He looks at you with the same dark passion as then. Your heart skips beats under his intense gaze.

“You’re here,” he says. Maybe the same memories flicker through his mind. He tips his head, looking at you so closely, like he cannot believe you are real.

“Yes,” you say softly, clasping your hands in front of you. “I’m here.”

“To stay,” he says.

“If you’ll have me,” you reply. Your heart is beating so hard, it is a wonder he cannot hear it. Your legs feel even weaker than before, but this time is has nothing to do with bicycles and everything to do with him.

He swallows, his throat bobbing. He sniffs and looks aside while idly tugging his jacket.

“And your boyfriend?” he says, glaring at the far wall.

Your heart sinks. It is your turn to swallow.

“You know about that?” you ask.

He laughs, not that gleeful sound you know but a sharp cackle. He looks at you incredulously.

“Of course I know,” he says. “I don’t always stay on my side of the tracks. Sometimes,” he speaks with sarcastic wonder, “I get to repair houses for the pretty rich people.” He huffs, shaking his head. “It’s fine,” he says. “You should be with someone like that. He’ll give you the house. The car. I bet your parents love him too.”

“I don’t want those things,” you say, bearing his bitterness because you understand what he is feeling. You lift your chin and look him in the eye. “You’re right, my parents do love him. But I don’t. He’s shallow and unkind. And you—” Your voice catches. “You, Lee Minho, are anything but that. You are everything. And I… I love you. I always have.” You drop your eyes with this confession, suddenly overwhelmed with the sheer emotion pouring out of his gaze. “I know it’s been a while,” you say. “I don’t expect you to have waited for me. I just—”

He laughs again. It is still dry, but not so sharp. You glance at him.

“Princess,” he says. “Don’t tell me you seriously think I could just forget about you.” He shakes his head. “It’s like you don’t even know me. I should kick you out just for that.”

You realize he is joking, the faintest hint of something warm melting his scowl.

“I can’t give you that life,” he says seriously.

You step towards him, holding his gaze, pouring as much emotion back at him. He exhales, blinking quickly, long lashes fluttering as he looks at you.

“I have no idea what we’re gonna do,” you admit. “But I know I want to figure it out. With you. And no one else.”

He smiles and it makes you smile. Then he reaches for you, but stops when he once more remembers his dirty hands.

“Shit,” he says again, then takes a step back. “Let me just—”

You take him by the wrist and yank him towards you. He follows your guidance, his breath catching when you plant his hand on your hip. It will leave a big black stain on your perfect white dress, the shape of his hand in a possessive grip on your body.

It is more effective than any word. He swoops in and kisses you, his other hand cupping your other hip with the same deliberate possessiveness. You are certain this horrid little gown will be destroyed and you do not care one bit. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back.

“You’re cruel,” he says between kisses. “Torturing me for so long. I wanted to kill that man. But I thought he made you happy—”

“He disgusted me,” you say. “He kissed me without my permission today.”

“What.” That stops the kiss and he looks at you with that scowl again. “I’ll kill him,” he says without any hesitation.

You just laugh a gentle laugh, shaking your head. You twist a longer tuft of his hair around your finger, making his tense shoulders go soft as he leans in.

“You don’t have to kill him,” you say. “Just make me forget him.”

Oh, Lee Minho is such an awful tease all the time. Of course he goes back to just staring at you with a contemplative air, making you wriggle and wonder in his arms. You whine his name, trying to kiss him, but he dodges it. Your whimpering makes him laugh, because of course it does.

Then he gets very serious. Your heart sends a bolt of heat shooting through your body. Your thighs press together.

He presses his forehead to yours. You gasp when you feel his fingers on your back, the careful slow touch as he tugs your zipper down. The flimsy dress slides off your body as he steps back to look at you. You shiver, gazing back at him. His stare is unflinching as he peels off his jacket and tosses it aside. His hands are already much cleaner, the distinctive print of his palms still plastered to your dress. He wipes the rest on his own shirt then tugs it off and tosses it to the side.

He smirks and wiggles two come hither fingers at you, walking backwards. You follow him slowly, then give chase when he cackles and runs. You follow him into the bedroom where he literally sweeps you off your feet.

“And you say I’m cruel,” you tease.

He closes the door with a firm snap then leans you against it.

“You are,” he says. He looks down your body while running his fingers through his hair. “You are.”

Then he gets on his knees, first one while he tugs your panties down, then the other, when he hooks your leg over his shoulder and put his mouth on you. He does not tease anymore, swiftly finding all the ways to make you moan his name. You are scared your leg will buckle under you when he makes you come, but he holds you steady.

Then he stands up and cups your face, kissing you deeply, making you taste yourself on his tongue. It is a good kiss, everything a kiss should be, hot and hungry, slow and deep. It makes you tingle with aftershocks, blinking at him with delirious pleasure when he pulls back.

Minho can be loud, can be boisterous, can be scathing. He can also speak gently, in such a soft, light rasp. It makes your head spin. He speaks like that now.

“This is how it is,” he says, then kisses you again, licks into your mouth. When you moan, he moans back. “I make you sigh,” he says. “I make your pussy wet. I make you come. Just me.”

“Yes,” you nod, clinging to him when he carries you to the bed. “You, Minho.”

He lays you down, kneeling between your open legs. They are still quivering from your orgasm. He looks at you, hungrily, while opening his belt. He rips it out of his jeans and tosses it behind him, then unzips while leaning down to kiss you. He dives past your waiting mouth to kiss your throat, biting marks under your jaw, on your neck, on your tits. You grab his head, hands in his hair, arching your back under his desperate mouth.

“You’re mine,” he says. “You’ve always been mine.”

He holds your hips while thrusting inside you. You imagine his hands leaving a permanent mark, just like that stained dress, a claiming that forever marks you as his. He fucks you so steadily and deeply, holding you possessively, gasping your name and how good you feel while he takes you.

“Perfect,” he says in that dreamy voice, rubbing you softly while fucking you hard. It makes you come around his cock, clenching tight, which makes him moan into your mouth. “Mine.”

You wrap your legs around him. You lay chest-against-chest, holding each other. Your nails scratch his back, no doubt leaving your own marks, your whole body littered with his kisses and bites. There is not a single inch of you that is not branded by him.

“Yes,” you say. “Always, Minho.”

Saying his name sends him over. He comes inside you, claiming you even there, then stays inside you after while you kiss.

You stay in his arms all night, making love and sleeping then making love some more. When the sun rises, you wake to him holding you, stroking your cheek affectionately.

He kisses your forehead and you nestle comfortably against him, happy to be home.

#lee minho x reader #lee know x reader #minho x reader #skz x reader #lee know smut #lee minho smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #valentinesdaystories #tattywood

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theosmanuscript · 2 months ago

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tequila & empty cups

theodore nott x reader

warning: not proof read and its 2 am im dead tired

word count: 800+

synopsis: at an afterparty celebrating slytherin’s big win against gryffindor with bf!theo

author's note: sorry for the lack of content! i’ve been terribly lazy tehe!

Typically, the dungeons of Hogwarts are dark, cold and gloomy. First and second years were always huddled up in a corner, scrambling to complete their overdue assignments. This time, none of them were in sight. The highly anticipated Quidditch match resulted in Slytherin’s favour and like every other win, another raging party was put on.

Green strobe lights lit up the common room and the air was filled with the scent of intoxication. Pansy and Lorenzo were on the floor, amidst the sea of people, dancing to the rhythm.

The loud music blasted out of the speakers made your heart thump with excitement. Mattheo and Blaise were on top of a table which surprisingly supported the weight of two beefy beaters. The former shouting the lyrics to Weasley Is Our King at the top of lungs along with the rest of the crowd whereas Blaise was taking swig after swig of the Firewhiskey which was graciously provided by an anonymous seventh year. On the other hand, Theodore was seated on the leather chair and you, comfortable on his lap.

“Weasley cannot save a thing! He cannot block a single ring!” Mattheo sang, throwing both his hands into the air.

You watched with amusement while taking a sip of the strange concoction of punch and tequila out of the plastic cup. Contrary to popular belief, Slytherins knew how to appreciate Muggles’ masterpiece of hard liquor. Theo’s hand stroked your thigh that was draped over him.

“He’s making a fool out of himself,” Theo whispered into your ear. His breath was hot against your neck and your skin started to tingle. Your heart pounded against your ribs as you looked into his eyes

“C’mon, he’s just having fun,” you replied, holding in a laugh as the table wobbled and Mattheo stumbled. “Couldn’t hurt to loosen up too, Mister Nonchalant.”

Theo snorted and sighed, “I think I need a refill, if you want me to loosen up.”

“I can do it. I need someone to top me up too.” You swung you legs off his lap and stood up, straightening your skirt that rode up. Theo probably had a good view of your ass but you didn’t care.

You took his now empty cup and walked towards the bottles, opening them, careful not to waste a drop of liquor. After all, it was difficult to acquire and sneak the bottles into the castle.

“Great turn out, right?”

You jumped at the sound of the voice. Turning around to face Adrian Pucey. He looked far to merry to be sober. You doubted he could walk in a straight line.

“Yeah, I mean it was the last game before the end of the year,” you said nervously, “I think someone would have to be a bloody prat to miss it.”

Adrian laughed as he took a step towards you. He was definitely not sober at all to disregard how uncomfortable you looked.

“Well, I’m glad I made it. Wouldn’t want to miss seeing you here,”

You took another step back, as he reached out to grab your arm and a lump formed in your throat.

“I have to get back to –”

“C’mon, baby. You know you want this,” Adrian insisted. He tugged on your arm as you tried to wriggle out of his grip.

“Pucey, let go of me,” you shrieked. As if you wanted anything to do with this slimy, lame excuse of a man.

“C’mon, we will have so much fu–”

“She said let go of her,” a familiar, husky voice snapped from behind you. You turned to see Theo standing there, arms crossed and he looked pissed.

Adrian’s face paled, immediately letting go of your arm. Your arm was painted white. How tightly did the wanker have to grip you? Adrian left as quickly as he came, pushing through the crowd, escaping from your volatile boyfriend.

Theo’s face was dark and if looks could kill, Adrian would have been burnt alive by Theo’s scowl.

“Are you alright, cara mia?” Theo asked, worry written on his face.

You looked up and sighed, “Pucey was just being a prick. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Theo’s finger went up to your face, stroking your cheeks gently. “I love you.” he professed. He glanced at your lips and held your waist, pulling you closer to him. His lips met yours and your eyes fluttered close. You brought your arms up and placed them over his neck, deepening the kiss. Theo squeezed your waist and you let out a gasp, taking the moment to slip his tongue in, dancing with yours.

Your eyes opened as you pulled away to take in some air. Looking into his eyes as you responded, “I love you too.”

#theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott imagines #theo #theodore #slytherin #harry potter #slytherin boys #theo nott fic #hp #theo nott x you #theodore nott x you #fanfic #fanfiction #writing

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unlicensed-queer · 4 months ago

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I'll be your Shield and your Salve

Summary: When a rowdy crowd shows up to the Roadhouse Dalton's annoyed, when one grabs his girls ass he's a little more than annoyed

Pairing: Elwood Dalton x Reader (imagined as female but could be gn, mentions reader wearing a skirt)

Warnings: Non-consensual groping, non-graphic violence, panic attacks, over all descriptions of sexual harassment, reader feeling dirty afterwards.

Words: 1,223

Notes: hooo this was supposed to be a lot more campy and a lot less angsty. Special thanks to @charliehoennam for helping me with a writing slump and to @aaronhotchnersswifee for the idea! This is my first time posting a fic, I hope everyone enjoys it ❤️

You were standing at the bar, pouring drinks, charming customers and cleaning glasses. The band, a group of middle aged men, two of which were probably named Darryl, played energetically, filling the bar with lively music. A man with a bushy gray beard played the washboard, thumping and scraping the beat. Everything was perfect. Dalton sat at the end of the bar, looking perfectly relaxed and tapping his foot with the music. He caught your eye and tapped the bar with his knuckles for a refill.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing in a dive like this?" He asked, with a twinkle in his blue eyes. His voice was low and smooth, like melted chocolate in those Lindor commercials.

"Oh you know," you sighed dramatically, putting on a forlorn face as you opened another beer for him, "got dragged down here by my dumbass boyfriend, can you believe he decided to be a bouncer in Hicksville, Florida?" You teased. Dalton laughed sarcastically

"You always wanted to live on the beach, princess" He laughed, giving you that dopey grin that made your belly flip. As he turned back to watch the bar a roaring came from the parking lot. Loud voices and boots crunching on gravel drifted in through the windows. Dalton bristled, on alert.

Three men in tattered vests and leathers swaggered into the bar, shouting at customers and each other and reeking of booze. A tall man with dirty white hair and yellowed teeth slumped on the bar, leering at you

"Heyyy cupcake, pour me a drink will you? Needa..wet my whistle." His eyes drifted over your shirt, his gaze felt slimy, dirty. You gritted your teeth, trying to push off the shivering feeling of disgust. You poured him a beer, sliding it towards him with a forced smile.

The guys were unpleasant but so far they hadn't actually done anything wrong. They just sat at a table in the middle yelling and drinking. You were walking over with a tray of drinks they had ordered and setting them on the table when you felt one of them grab your thigh and squeeze. You froze, your blood ran hot and cold at the same time. Just as you turned to slap the guy in the face you felt a tall shadow over you.

"Alright buddy time to leave" Dalton's voice was scarily calm and friendly sounding. His smile didn't melt the frost in his eyes as he looked down at the man who had groped you. You hadn't seen him this mad since the biker gang had burned down the bookstore.

The men all ooo'ed mockingly, swaying as they got up. The same man who had looked you up and down earlier got up in Dalton's face, yellow teeth bared in a derisive grin.

"What's the big deal? Just having a night out with my boys" he slurred. The man was foul, reeking of booze, sweat and stale tobacco. Dalton made no reaction except wrinkling his nose slightly

"We don't allow harassment here" Daltons smile was looking more and more like a dog's bared fangs. The man snorted, looking around at his friends in disbelief.

"You gon' let yer waltz 'round in that leather skirt.." he paused looking at you in a way that made you want to throw up, "N' get mad when I wanna feel what she's got on show?"

Dalton's fist swung into his jaw with a sound crack. Angry shouts and protests rose from his gang, some starting towards Dalton. You scrambled back against the bar as Dalton set to work. The anger didn't affect him the way you thought it would. He wasn't erratic or emotional, he was coldly efficient, knocking each of them to the floor quickly and cleanly. Less than 5 minutes and each of the men were dumbstruck and the security was dragging them out by their shirt collars. Your heart hammered as you watched, still feeling the place on your leg where the man had groped you, it felt grimy and wrong.

You worked the cleanup shift in a daze. Dalton and you drove home in silence, Dalton's knuckles were white and red on the steering wheel. When you were home you got in the shower, scrubbing your body with a rag and holding back the rising panic in your chest. You were so absorbed in the action you didn't notice Dalton come into the bathroom and step into the shower behind you. He didn't speak, he just pulled you to his chest as you dropped the rag and began to cry. He rocked side to side lightly, holding you tightly.

"I'm so sorry" he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You didn't know how long you were in the shower, crying into his chest as he whispered comfort to you. At some point he began moving, lathering up a rag and gently running it over your body. The contrast between the pillow soft lathered rag and your frantic rough scrubbing was night and day. Dalton carefully rubbed the rag over your entire body then helped you step under the water. He kissed each part of your body as the bubbles washed down the drain. It wasn't sexual, there was no heat in his touches or his lips, only love and reassurance. Every caress and kiss seemed to say, 'I love you, you aren't dirty, it wasn't your fault'. The tears flowed down your face like poison sucked from a wound and you hugged Dalton when he stood again, he kissed you and turned off the water. As you stood in the shower he wrapped a towel around his waist before taking a soft towel and drying you off. The insecure part of you squirmed at letting him do everything for you, anxious about being a burden, but the larger part let Dalton guide you through the exhausted haze.

When you were dry Dalton pulled one of his t-shirts over your head and picked you up, holding you to his chest like one might carry a sleepy child inside from the car. You closed your eyes and rested your head on his shoulder, half asleep. You felt him walking around, hearing things clinking and the click of the electric kettle. At first you tried to track his steps to see where he was without opening your eyes but eventually you let his soft humming lull you to calmness.

You must have dozed off because soon Dalton was setting you on your bed and placing a cup of tea on the nightstand. He sat behind you and pulled you to his chest, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Made you some tea and toast with peanut butter and bananas. There some milk to, in case the peanut butter gums up your mouth" he murmured, voice rumbling through his chest and into your back. Your heart could have burst with affection for him. Even though you would do all this for him in a heartbeat, it was still amazing the lengths he went to just to make you happy and safe. The scene at the bar felt more distant now, like a nightmare gone hazy with age. Right now you were safe and warm in Dalton arms, with food, tea, and all the love you could ever dream of.

#jake gyllenhaal #elwood dalton #elwood dalton x reader #jealousy #bare knuckle fighting #happy ending

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belovedmusings · 8 months ago

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God’s dead, and that’s all right with me.

Sukuna Ryomen x You

Explicit Smut 18+ (🚫Minors DNI🚫)

Part One of the 'Hell and back.' story. Click for story masterlist.

Sukuna Ryomen is the most fearsome syndicate head of the modern day. As such, you never in a million years expected him to wind up at your strip club in a dingy corner of town, but you’re going to make the most of it.

Relevant tags: Mafia! Sukuna, Stripper! Reader, rough sex, rough and sloppy blow job, cum swallowing, cowgirl, unprotected sex, cockwarming, multiple rounds, I don’t use “y/n” for better immersion, AFAB reader

Songs recommended while reading: Gods & Monsters (Lana Del Rey), Slow Down (Chase Atlantic), Swim (Chase Atlantic)

Cross-posted on Ao3.

Read below cut:

Sukuna Ryomen is the most fearsome syndicate head of the modern day. He looms like a storm cloud that threatens to unleash devastating hail at any moment over the city, ruling it with an iron fist. He’s the Two-Faced Demon incarnate, as you’ve heard those around you refer to him, the enigmatic man always addressed as if he was a mythical creature rather than a living, breathing person. He was the richest man in the city with his mountains of dirty money, each finger on his hands tied around the neck of all the local politicians and officials. As such, you never in a million years expected him to wind up at your stripclub in a dingy corner of town, so far away from the luxury of the inner city.

He stands out like a beacon in the night, with his sunset-colored hair and white suit, which is really only slacks and a blazer, shirt forgone to display the large black markings of his tattoos instead.

In your little corner on the outskirts of town, no one remotely interesting has ever come into the club. It’s usually slimy, older men, married and greedy for what they can’t have, salivating like dogs in heat for a glimpse at bodies that exist just out of their reach.

Sukuna is a reprieve from that. Someone young and gorgeous, with an aura of danger…and you’re attracted to him like a moth to a flame. So, you decide to move in on him—he’ll probably never be here again, so why don’t you have some fun with it?

You saunter towards the section he’s sitting in, a booth against the wall, deciding to walk by and glance at him for a second, enticement in your eyes but no need on your lips.

It works.

“Hey,” His deep, chalant voice calls to you. You pause, turning back around, leaning against the separator of his booth to the next.

“Hey,” You echo smoothly. The edge of his mouth turns up, interest flickering in his appraising eyes as he takes in your form.

“How much for a dance?”

“Twenty.”

A tilt of his head. “You know who I am, don’t you?”

You hum. “Sukuna Ryomen. Who doesn’t?”

“And you’re not gouging me?”

At that, you just snort. “Gouge you? I’m gonna enjoy dancing for you, I don’t need to gouge.”

He raises a brow, then his hand is up and he’s beckoning you towards him with a finger. “I gotta come to a shoddy little hole like this more often.”

You don’t reply to him, you just swing a leg up onto the booth in the seat beside him, waiting for him to tuck the cash into your garter. He reaches into his pocket, grabbing the small leather wallet from within and producing a twenty-dollar bill. As prompted, he slides it into your garter, brushing his calloused fingers over the skin of your thigh before you grab the pole beside you and hoist yourself up, beginning your dance.

You never get this much enjoyment out of performing for any man. They’re all the same, gross and worn-out, but Sukuna…there’s a fire in his eyes. Usually, you’re watched with impersonal hunger, but the way he’s looking at you now—it’s appreciative, calculated, controlled. He’s savoring every shape he finds in your body with his eyes, and it feels so good. By the end of it, you can feel yourself pulsing with arousal, the bottom of your skimpy lace set damp with the evidence.

It’s not lost on him; once you finish, slinking down with your legs parted to cage his body between your heels, ass on the cold wood of the table, he grabs your hips and pulls you into him abruptly, causing you to gasp.

“I can see how wet you are,” He murmurs under his breath, pushing you down into the evident bulge in his pants. It’s rock hard, and you have half a mind to maul him there in the lounge.

Immediately the security guard nearest to you springs into action, ready to intervene, but you hold a hand up to him.

“It’s okay,” You reassure him, feeling Sukuna’s palm shamelessly gripping at the flesh of your ass. “It’s welcome.”

“Mmm, welcome?” Purrs Sukuna, drawing your attention immediately away from the guard and making you forget all about him. “Just how welcome am I?”

You suck in a breath, meeting his eyes, such a brilliant, unusual brown that they appear almost red. You can only think one thought–fuck it.

“We have private rooms,” You inform him breathlessly, “…if you want.”

That pulls a breathy chuckle out of him, and he huffs, amused. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer, sweetheart.”

It’s sort of hard for you to recall the time it takes for you to get off of him, take his hand, and lead him to the hallway where you enter an empty room, locking it behind the two of you.

You’ve never been back to one of these with a customer, and immediately it reminds you of a motel bedroom, old wallpaper on the walls, worn carpet, and nothing but a bed and side table placed in the center with sheets and no comforter. Dingy, seedy, and for one purpose only.

He hums, sitting down on the edge. “This place is no Vixens for sure.”

The name of an upscale club closer to the center of the city. You laugh softly, choosing to be bold and straddle his lap. His hands find your ass immediately, as if they’ve been there a million times.

“It’s not,” You agree, “I’m no Vixen girl.”

“Mmm, I’m not missing out on much,” He grins wolfishly, admiring your figure again. “They all start to look the same once you realize they have the same surgeon. Don’t know how many girls’ bodies I’ve paid for over there by now.”

“A frequent visitor, then?” You ask, running a hand over his chest. He laughs haughtily.

“Like you have room to talk. I’m just another client.”

The smile you give him is full of chagrin. “I don’t actually take anyone back here. You’re the first.”

“Oh, I won’t believe that, but nice try,” He holds your chin between his index and thumb. “Now…it seems I’ve ensnared my prey for tonight.”

The predatory edge to his gaze should scare you, but if you do feel fear it quickly converts to arousal. If the way the world works is truly survival of the fittest, you’d be the first to go. You know that now for sure.

Sukuna Ryomen is not a gentleman, but then again, you dance naked for a living so you aren’t a saint either. Two souls, both sold, entwining within the heady musk of a room fortified with filth. You only serve to add to it.

He puts you on your knees first. It takes him no time at all to pull his cock out, hot, heavy, and thick beyond belief, with a length that sets your insides ablaze when you can wrap both hands around it and still see the tip.

“Suck,” is all he commands, and like a concubine determined to service her master, you get to work.

You may not usually offer sex for money like some of the other girls at your club, but you’re far from inexperienced.

With him, you feel like you can be as bold as you want and he’ll enjoy it. So you just go for it.

You part your lips and take him in, sliding the large cock back to your throat where the gag reflex has long been evicted.

He groans, grabbing you by the back of the head and forcing you to stay down. You moan, the vibrations adding fuel to his fire, and he pulls you back for a moment.

“Breathe now, because you’re not comin’ up again until I say.”

That and five more seconds is the only warning you get before he slams you back down, starting to properly fuck your face.

It’s a blur of push, pull, stretch, gasp for an immeasurable amount of time, the musky taste of his skin mixing with the salt of his precum running down your burning throat on its own volition, swallowing only triggered when he thrusts particularly hard.

You can vaguely feel the tears running down your face, not from discomfort but from reaction alone; he’s conducting your body as if you’re a symphony and he alone holds the baton, cueing your every move.

“Fuck,” he hisses, looking down at you with sharp eyes. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

You make an incoherent, garbled noise, your own arousal dripping down your thighs at this point, effectively ruining your set for the night. You won’t be able to dance in it after this, although, if this keeps up you won’t be able to dance tonight at all.

He throws his head back and gives you a guttural groan, hot, bitter seed pouring down your throat in thick rivulets.

Sukuna straightens back out and looks down at you. “Clean it up. Every last drop.”

You moan, sucking on him just to be sure you collect it all, and only then does he pull off.

“Tongue. Show me you swallowed.”

Obediently, you do just that, lips puffy and abused but tongue clean of cum.

“Good.”

He sniffs. Sitting back down on the bed, laying sideways, and regarding you for a moment, still on your knees and almost shaking with how turned on and untouched you are.

“You haven’t gotten any pleasure, huh?” He asks, leaning on his hand thoughtfully. You nod, clearing your throat.

“I’m,” it comes out raspy and hoarse. He guffaws, a salacious grin playing on his face. You try again. “I’m soaking.”

“Yeah?” He asks, casual and uncaring. “Hmm…I could toss you my cash and leave you here like I usually do…let you take care of it yourself…”

You wait to hear the other option, begging him to choose whatever it is as long as he gives you something.

“Or…I could reward you…since I enjoyed you so thoroughly…though I have to warn you, it’s not for the weak.”

Interest flares inside you. “I’m not weak.”

“Oh, well, you did take what I just gave you like a champ, so I suppose,” He acknowledges with a shrug.

The room is silent for a moment before he hums decidedly. “Get up here. Kneel in front of my face.”

And you do so. He hums, eyeing you without an ounce of shame.

“You are quite wet. Look at your thighs, all shiny and sloppy.”

You don’t have time to reply, because he suddenly reaches out, pushing two of his fingers inside of you deeply. A gasp leaves your lips, but he ignores it.

“Pussy’s tight and soaked,” He states as if giving an appraisal. He looks up into your eyes, beginning to pump his digits in and out slowly, making sure to press hard every time they slide in. “Think you can take my cock inside?”

Your heart begins pounding in your chest. There’s not another man like him, you can’t explain it. Nodding, you say, “I can.”

“Eager,” He laughs, amused. “You’d probably do it for free, wouldn’t you?”

A shameful red blooms across your face, and you suddenly feel self-conscious. He chuckles, low and breathy. He grips your chin firmly, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“Don’t worry, I’ll compensate you prettily for your work,” He almost cooes, letting you go and laying down on his back. “You will work for it, though. I already got my fill.”

You become perplexed. “How?”

He glances down to his soft cock, laying against his abdomen, then back at you expectantly.

“You want it, come and get it.”

It dawns on you that if you want any sort of satisfaction tonight, you’re going to have to do the work. Fine, then. One of the perks of doing this line of work is the ability to easily shake off any shame. You want what you want and you’re gonna take it.

The first thing you do is lose the platforms adorning your feet, their weight dropping with a satisfying ‘thunk’ to the floor.

You then straddle his hips, taking his flaccid cock in hand and, after moving your soaked g-string aside, take him by surprise by slipping him inside of you just like that. He breathes in deeply, sensitive no doubt, and you start rolling your hips to get him hard, removing the straps of your skimpy top and exposing your breasts to him.

“Heh,” A crooked smile adorns his lips, “You were born to do this, weren’t you?”

You’re starting to think you were too, but not just for any man. The kind of guys that come in here are nowhere near Sukuna Ryomen. For him only, you can become whoever you are right now.

You nod, feeling him begin to harden inside of you, the sensation sending hot shivers cascading down your spine. As you begin to get more into it, he follows suit, hands exploring your body. First they fondle the malleable flesh of your breasts, then down your waist, your hips, gripping it tightly. You mewl, speeding up, his dick now stiff inside of you. He’s huge but it definitely helped to start out with him soft, because now he’s locked in, and all you have to do is move.

Wanting to feel more, you raise yourself up on him and drop back down harshly, the depths of you intruded by his length. It makes you release a cry, and before you can recover, his hands have found your ass, gripping it so hard it hurts. He starts to guide you faster on his cock, arm muscles straining beneath the fabric of his blazer.

“Sukuna,” The name leaves your lips before you can stop it, and for a moment you think you’ve messed up until he doubles down on his efforts, groaning deeply in his throat.

“Fuck,” He hisses, “Say it again.”

“Sukuna,” it comes out even more debauched than the first one, and slaps your ass hard, the sting causing you to flutter around him, his hips stuttering with the effort to move in such a confined space.

“You’re fucking tight…”

All you can do is whimper, not even participating in the movements anymore, just letting them happen to you, taking whatever he decides to give you.

He seems to notice this, because your back meets the sheets in the same breath, the syndicate head suddenly on top of you.

With the new leverage, he really begins drilling into you, and desperate, obscene drawls start pouring from your lips, so loud and abandoned that if the music wasn’t so loud in the lounge, someone would surely come looking for you in concern.

His hands are on the backs of your knees, pushing them down, folding you in half without regard for whether you can bend that way or not, and he’s screwing you so absolutely hard that the coil inside you begins winding without any touch at all.

“Sukuna,” You mewl, completely wrecked now, “Gonna cum…”

“Fuck,” He grunts, “You’re gonna make me cum again…”

Your response is a choked moan, and all it takes are the three subsequent, hard snaps of his hips for you to shout his name, cumming so hard your body shakes.

“Shit,” Sukuna seethes through his teeth, pulling out and jerking himself off a few times before his second load paints your abdomen and thighs, staining the parts of your set it lands on, and you feel yourself clenching on nothing, gaping in the absence of his shape.

The sharp-eyed man takes in the sight of you for a moment before climbing off of you and getting to his feet. He walks over to the lone nightstand in the room, grabbing the tissue box and tossing it onto the bed, grabbing a few for himself to clean up.

You sit up, taking your own tissues and cleaning yourself off.

“Gotta say,” He breaches the silence after the tissues are disposed, your lingerie readjusted as good as you could get it. “I ain’t fucked like that in a long time.”

A loose smirk slides over your lips. “Me neither.”

He moves over to you, holding out a wad of cash. Your eyes widen–the girls that do take clients into private rooms usually make a hundred or two hundred at best per man, and what you see in front of you is easily at least a couple thousand.

“Don’t be shy now,” He says, “I’m loaded and you worked for it.”

He’s not wrong. You won’t deny him.

Once it’s in your hands, he flashes you another grin. “It was fun, uh…?”

You realize he’s prompting for your name, so you give it to him. He repeats it, the contours of his voice giving it a quality you’ve never heard before when other people say it.

“Hope to see you again,” He says, heading for the door.

You watch him go, replying with, “you know where to find me.”

He hums, looking back at you for a moment with that confident simper before he exits.

Once you’re alone again, you take a look at the stack of cash, taking a look at how much he gave you. Three thousand.

“Holy shit,” You gasp, eyeing the money with bulging eyes. That’s an entire good week’s worth and then some.

You look back up at the door, thoughts echoing his last words to you.

Hope to see you again.

A/N: my first Sukuna piece!! I love how this turned out...and yes, this will be a series.

So excited for this new story. Something about a stripper and a syndicate man just works for me. I had to sugar-coat him a lil but he's still Sukuna... p.s. doing research, I learned "Ryomen" isn't Sukuna's name technically, but the name of a folktale/mythical demon? So it's kinda funny using that as his last name but for purposes, we'll just role with it lmao

In true D fashion, it's going to be full of drama, so comment here or on the masterlist for updates!

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk imagines #sukuna x you #sukuna headcanons #sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x y/n #hell and back fic

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mxtantrights · 7 months ago

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Omg, girl!! Im the one who requested the "enemies" to lovers with Jason Todd one, and GIRL. I loved it. Was better than i was expecting. Please, write part two!( kiss scene? Hehe)Or a whole Bible if you want. Honestly, i only said a "quick" one because i was trying to be polite, didn't want to push or anything lol.

Anyway, thank you for writing my request!!

thank you soo much!! <333 this is a second parter to this post, but it can be read as a stand alone. hope you enjoy it as much as I liked continuing it!!

The kiss happens in two parts. Not to say that you can carefully dissect it into two parts, but that the kiss almost happens once and then it finally does, kind of.

Once when the two of you are on mission. In a slimy dive bar in some redacted location. You've been following your mark all day and ended up here. He's slinging back cheap shots of an off brand liquor as you and Red watch from the roof of the place.

He's been followed all day and hasn't made you once, which is a good thing. Or a bad thing. So you and Red decide to switch it up. There was no need to drag it out any longer. You could confront him and get the info you needed.

That was the plan.

Until the two of you were about to corner your mark. You were waiting on the street and Red was on the other side of it. It was going well until all of a sudden he met up with a familiar face. Falcone. Red pulled off his side of the street quickly and met up with you.

He doesn't say much. He doesn't say anything at all as he takes your arm and drags you around the wall of a store. You have half the mind to question him but you don't. Until he starts taking off the bottom part of his mask.

You try to stop him, but he crowds into your space. He whispers a very clear apology for being too close to you. And then he explains that him being here, would be a dead give away to Falcone. He might blow up whatever plans he has.

Both of you can hear them walking your way. And the only thing you can think of is apologizing to Red before fitting his fcae right into your neck. In the darkness of the night no one can really see his helmet. Or both of your suits.

They walk by without any second thought to the two of you. And you wait about five seconds before telling Red he was okay to pick his head up from your neck.

The drive to he motel was awkward to say the least.

The second time is when you're in the middle of changing in said motel. It's the last night of the mission. You're just about ready to go home to your comfortable bed and front door that has more than one lock.

Red is in a room on this floor. But the two of you haven't run into each other outside of your masks. It's weird. Like weird as in, it probably should have happened by now, but it hasn't. You think to yourself maybe the universe isn't ready to answer that question yet.

With a towel wrapped around your body you're about to start changing into your sleep wear when you hear something odd. A pop coming from outside. Then another one.

You grab your firearm and go over to the door. You look through the peep hole and see nothing. But you know you heard something. So you open the door , just to peek your head out. And at the right time too.

All of a sudden you see a tall man, white streak of hair, coming your way. He's wearing sweatpants and a black muscle tee. Once he makes eye contact with you, he starts running your way. You don't have time to close the door before he's standing in your face begging you to kiss him.

He's out a breath, and he's practically begging at this point. You're not about to kiss a random man. But when you hear the following footsteps you know he is in danger.

So you agree. And this guy apologizes to you in advance as he leans you against your door and cradles the back of your head with his hand. You almost sort of melt into the kiss. Just for a second. only for a second actually.

Because you realize, the way this man just apologized for what he was about to do, is the same way Red apologized to you the other night. And your brain feels like it's on fire because you realize this isn't some random man. This is Red.

This is Red and you know what he looks like. And he definitely knows it you because your'e the same person he saved in the alleyway in Gotham. Coincidences like that don't happen. Especially when you kind of hinted at it with the first word you said to him as a civilian.

🏷️ @12134z03

#dc x reader #Jason todd x reader #Jason todd imagine #Jason todd blurb #dc blurbs #dc imagine #dc #Jason todd

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princessconsuela120 · 7 months ago

Text

✰YOUR PAIN IS MY PAIN✰

—✰

summary: after a run in with rookwood at the three broom sticks, Sebastian and mc run into rookwood on their way out of hogsmead.

warnings: crucio curse, pain, cursing

Authors note: sorry for my inactivity, I should be more here. Send in Harry Potter requests!

—✰ SINCE STARTING SCHOOL AT HOGWARTS, late night hogsmeade dates between you and Sebastian had become a weekly occurrence. Ever Friday Sebastian insisted you two would need to make a trip to the outskirts of Hogwarts, and do everything Hogsmeade could offer. Even before you dated, Sirona Ryan had grown so used to the two of you, she had started pre-making the drinks you two would order before you arrived. While these evenings were full of light and fun; prancing others at Zonko’s, or testing the new candies at Honeydukes. No matter what the day adventures held, the night would end at the three broomsticks. Now that you two have been dating for a year now, these moments had meant even more to you.

“Well well well, if it isn’t my favorite 5th year.” A low slimy voice scolded, causing Sebastian to grab your hand, pulling you slightly behind him protectively.

“Leave us alone.” Sebastian hissed, pointing his wand at the man infront of you.

The one negative of going to hogsmeade so often, was that enemies tended to know where you were. This being Rookwood and his army, which still haven’t left you alone since the wizarding war ended. It was torture.

“Confident are we?” Rookwood teased, an evil smirk on his face as he did.

“Look, rookwood, we aren’t doing anything to bother you. We were just leaving.” You tried, grabbing Sebastian’s arm to walk away, before Rookwood stepped infront of you.

“Running away? Again, l/n? I guess I should expect it from you.”

“Ignore him Sebastian.” You said quickly, realizing the furrowed look of anger on Sebastian’s face.

“I don’t believe we’ve properly met.” Rookwood said, holding a hand out to shake Sebastian’s, to which he stepped further infron of you.

“I don’t want to be acquainted with the likes of you.”

“Another bold one. I like when my prey fights.”

You felt the hairs on your back stand up, feeling the fear that used to consume you while walking around hogsmeade alone, a giant target on your back. You linked arms with Sebastian, noticing the anger that would soon trigger him to attack.

“We’ll be going now.” You whispered, pulling Sebastian along as he hesitantly followed.

“You dare walk away from me while I’m speaking to you!” He shouted after you, causing Sebastian to point his wand at him.

“No one was speaking to you in the first place, rookwood! Now that’s enough! You don’t want to see this get ugly.” Sebastian snapped, finally feeling angry with Rookwoods threats.

“Don’t I? It seems as though it already has.” Rookwood tested, stepping closer as Sebastian pointed his wand at rookwoods throat. “Now, utter another word and I can just as easily cast a spell on you.” Sebastian threatened, turning around before beginning to walk away. You turned to catch Rookwood about to cast something, making Sebastian cast as well.

“Expelliarmus!” He shouted, but Rook wood dodged.

“Sebastian no!” You shouted, watching how the spell angered Rookwood.

“You ignorant child…” he said with a laugh. “Crucio!”

It seemed as though time went in slow motion. Sebastian turned, you turned, suddenly before you knew it, you were sliding infront of him, and then everything went white. Blinding, bright, shearing white. The kind you see when you die. All you could feel was pain, not like anything you’ve ever felt. You tried to scream but no words left your mouth. You were numb.

“No! Depulso!” Sebastian yelled, as Rookwood fell against the wall behind him. Sebastian fell to his knees, pulling you into his lap as he heart raced. “No, please. Y/n?” He choked out his tears, turning angrily at Rookwood. “What have you done!?”

“It was meant for you.” He grunted, before disappearing in the air. Sebastian couldn’t help the angry scream that left his body, heaps of pain leaving with it as he looked down at you.

“Stay with me love.” He said, holding up your head to kiss you. The convulsions stopped, and now your eyes only half open, yet only the whites of them were visible.

“What’s going on out here?” Sirona asked, walking out from the three broomsticks, most likely having heard Sebastian’s shouting from inside.

“Sirona! Please! He, he hit her. She’s not opening her eyes.” He panicked, wiping his eyes quickly to stop his tears from falling.

“It’s alright Sallow, take a deep breath. We’re gonna aparate her to the hospital wing, can you meet us?” She offered, moving to examine you. Sebastian nodded, sniffling loudly as he did.

“Of course, yes.” He placed a kiss to the back of your palm, sighing as you apperated away. “Don’t give up on me.” He whispered, hugging himself as he searched for the closest floo flame.

—✰

SEBASTIAN HADNT LEFT THE HOSPITAL WING SINCE YOU HAD BEEN ADMITTED. It was true, Sebastian had his fair share of the dark curses. He even remembered when you needed to escape the scriptorium, how blearing the pain was when he had you cast Crucio on him. He knew it must have been worse for you, Rookwood meant to hit hard and he did. It had been 5 hours since you arrived. Sebastian hasn’t let go of your hand.

“Seb?” You said softly, feeling your head proud as you tried to sit up. Sebastian quickly jumped up from his seat beside you, crushing you in a hug the second he saw your eyes.

“Y/n? You’re awake, hi!” He cheered excitedly, smushing you in a hug making you chuckle.

“Woah, slow down, I’m still a bit sore.”

“I’m just so glad you’re okay.” He said softly, a wide smile on his lips as he pulled away, sitting at the edge of your bed.

“You think I’d let rookwood be the thing to finally take me down? My pride is way too high for that.” You joke, causing the two of you to laugh. Before you can say anything else you notice the tears now forming in Sebastian’s eyes, causing your heart to ache.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. I’m right here aren’t I?” You reassured, grabbing his cheeks and gently wipping his tears, smiling sweetly at him.

“You shouldn’t, be in that hospital bed. It was meant for me.” You sighed, watching his eyes drift sadly to the ground.

“Sebastian, look at me sweetheart.” You said softly, grabbing onto his hands and giving them a reassuring squeeze as he looked up at you. “Your pain, is my pain. I would die before I let anything happen to you.” You explained, a single tear falling down his cheek.

“I just, seeing you on the ground, so helpless…”

“Do you remember back in the scriptorium? We needed Crucio in order to leave?” You asked, sitting up as he nodded. “You told me, you would teach me how to do Crucio, so I could cast it on you. The second I saw that spell hit your chest, the rest sparking around you as you knelt to the floor…Sebastian, I felt my heart leave my body. The thought that, that I could have caused you pain.” You explained, causing Sebastian to shrug.

Your heart ached just at the thought.

“Yeah but, I mean we had to. We would’ve died down there.”

You nodded, smiling as you placed a hand on his cheek to guide his face to you.

“And I realize that if we had been in that situation now, I would cast it on myself before I would ever let you be in pain.”

Sebastian scoffed, chuckling at your words.

“That wouldn’t work y/n.” He teased, making you both laugh. You smiled, happy to have seen joy in Sebastian's drained expression.

“Of course you’re correcting me on spells while I’m trying to be sweet.” You joked, making him laugh again.

“Well, next time is my turn to get Crucio alright? We’re one for one, I don’t wanna see you like that again at least until I’m there first.” He explained, making you laugh now.

“Well, I’d hope we aren’t in that situation again.”

You both nodded, urging Sebastian to join you in your bed. He carefully cradled you in his arms, taking careful percussion, as if you would break if he didn’t.

“Well if we are, I’d protect you until my last breath.” He kissed the back of your palm, sighing as he squeezed your fingers, his other hand dancing patterns against your arm. “Your pain is mine. My heart wouldn’t beat without you around y/n.”

“And my love to you.”

#sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian sallow #Sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy x reader #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy

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rokishimizu4 · 3 months ago

Text

Flash dealing with a feral child (Adult)

Flash, known as one of the fastest men alive, was stopping to check out a known hangout spot for rouges in Central City when he got a notification from the JL about dead bodies of drug dealers, kidnappers, etc, showing up in abandoned warehouses in Gotham and other cities around the world.

He may not be the brightest, but he was still the first one to notice that most of his rouges, at least not the money hungry ones, seemed to only come out in the daylight to do only minimal damage and stealing. Which was strange in of itself.

He was also one of the first ones to notice, besides Batman and Green Arrow, that most of the rouges whisper about a Dream demon or some kind of demon that eats villians’ heads and leave their bodies for the police to pick up.

Tonight, one of many nights, he was eavesdropping on some rouges when he noticed that was rocking back and forth, muttering that he somehow fucked up on a heist and a kid accidentally got hurt.

Some of them were trying to comfort the terrified rouge, but others were too busy looking around with guns and other weapons in hand.

Flash, who was known by his rouges as caring and willing to help those that wanted/needed the help, tried to slowly walk in, but due to his powers it ended up just scaring his rouges instead.

“FUCK FLASH!” “Don’t do that!” “You got to help!” “Please don’t let me die!” All of them cry, each in different levels of fright, with one rushing over to him and grabbing onto his suit, begging for his life. “I did’t mean to! She was just there!”

Cue a very confused Flash, who can only sit down and have his rouges explain what the actual hell was happening. Which included learning about the spread of drugs and trafficking of women and children around the world, but mostly focusing in the U.S in major cities, and the meeting of a black slime thing eating a corrupt cop (who was supposedly abusing his family)

The hours pass without an incident, and as the daylight start to dawn, Flash goes out of his way to rush all the rouges into a safe place. Including the one that accidentally hurt a little girl, which in reality she only got scared by his enterance and wasn’t actually hurt.

Flash then goes back to the warehouse and notices that a man was standing in front of a young teenager, or a child (all he knew that the young thing was small and looked very young), and pointing a gun to their forehead and had a black slimy thing in his other hand.

Flash panics for a brief moment before rushing in, not noticing that the slimy thing was opening its mouth to bite the man at the same time.

Time slows down as he grabs the gun and man’s hand to point it away from the kid, but he then notices that the slimy thing has opened its mouth, full of pointing and knife-like teeth, and bit down on the man’s hand (right next to Flash’s fingers).

The man screams in pain as blood squirts out of the deep bite mark and the gun goes off in another direction. Which causes both the man and Flash to let go, the gun to drop, the slimy thing drops and goes back into the child, and the child bites the man’s left leg.

Cue Flash and the man panicking and jumping away from the child thing, which causes it to melt into a huge black, and purple, monster with dark purple tentacles, and pure white ‘eyes’, with a ‘mouth’ full of sharp teeth (like Canies or knives).

The man gets hit in the head with one of the tentacles and gets knocked unconscious. Flash gets one smacked into his stomach and he smashes into one of the walls.

The creature makes a weird distress child noise as Flash tries to recover, holding onto his stomach area and taking a few deep breaths.

”I’m good, I’m good. Just wasn’t expecting for the power behind your punches, or well slaps.” He jokes as he flops to the ground and rubs his back with one hand, glad that he his super speed allows him to heal quicker.

”Forgive us, we were trying to get a quick meal, but his face reminded us of someone else. It will not happen again.” The thing ‘says’ as it stands up and seems to stretches itself out, like it wasn’t seconds away from dying.

Flash can only wave the thing off, trying to determine if this thing was the “Dream demon” that his rouges were terrified of, which he doesn’t blame them now, and if the man was supposed to be it’s next meal.

”Well, all’s well that ends well. Just please don’t put yourself in these type of situations again, please?” He asks, begs, because he still is very confused on if the thing is a child in a monster’s body or an adult, or what.

”We can not keep that, as we need to eat. However, we will make sure to devour our meal and not play with it.” The thing ‘promises’?, and Flash tries to laugh it off, but the thing doesn’t laugh with him…

”Right, well. I’ll be taking this man to prison and then come back to get you.”

”No, we will go get a new meal. Thank you for teaching us that we should not play with our food.” The thing thanks him, which he doesn’t know to accept or not, before it CLIMBS out of the building, scaling the walls up to the skylight with it claws and tentacles and disappears into the night.

”Hey Flash to JL, we have a feral child on the loose, and it likes to eat humans. Please be advised that I accidentally gave it advice and now I’m not too sure where it went. Please don’t kill me, I thought it was just a kid.”

Cue the Flash experiencing the strangest police interview ever, and JL interview as well. Including being pulled to the side by Batman and getting the rundown on what he knows.

#batman #batfam #barbara gordon #tim drake #bruce wayne #cassandra cain #damian wayne #dick grayson #stephanie brown #duke thomas #jason todd #symbiotic reader #barry allen #the flash #batfam headcanons #batfam shenanigans #alfred pennyworth #feral behavior

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keys-hellscape-1020 · 2 years ago

Text

You get captured

You get captured by the enemy, you don’t know where you are, or who you’ve even been captured by. Your boys better hurry up and come get you because time is ticking fast.

Platonic!141st x medic!reader

Warning: Angst, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, heavy mentions of physical assault, being tied up against ones will, kidnapping, gore, mentions of death and dying, cussing, medical inaccuracies, military inaccuracies.

This was not how you were expecting this mission to go, to put it lightly.

Your head pounded, the pain raidiating through your skull, making you feel as though you were a rung bell. You peeled your eyes open, glancing around. You were in a dark, damp cell made of stone. The only light was from an old, flickering lamp that gently swung on a chain in the middle of the room. The door on the other side of the room from you was a large heavy looking thing. The only signs it was a door at all were the hinges on the side, and the small, barred window near the top of it. There was no handle facing into the room.

You struggled to piece together the memories of how you got here. You vaguely recalled rushing along an alley way, trying to meet up with your team mates, when you felt a hard *smack* to the back of your skull.

Ah that’s right. You’ve been captured. Those fuckers.

As your memories started to return you could feel your panic at the situation start to rise before you willed yourself to focus. Don’t give them the pleasure of a reaction, there will be time for that later. Focus.

Observing your surroundings you noticed that you were sat on a cold metal chair which your arms and ankles were tightly tied to with a rope. You pulled on your restraints, trying to see if there was any way you could gain an advantage in your situation, but the restraints were tight, and you could feel rope burn developing already.

Suddenly you heard a loud THUD outside of the door, and there was the small sound of metal hitting metal over and over again. Then the door was pushed open, the stone on the bottom of the door dragged across the stone floor with a horrible screech, forcing you to attempt to conceal a wince.

Out from behind the door came a shriveled looking man. If you had to guess he was about 5’6. He had pasty, greasy skin and looked under weight, although it was hard to tell due to the fact he wore a black suit a size to big for him. He wore no shirt under it, revealing his flabby chest. His facial features looked sunken in, yet somehow at the same time engorged from all the excess skin that hung at the edges of his face. He was clean shaven, with a large bald spot bordered by thin wire-like white hair that was coated in grease. He was closely followed by two large men on either side of him. If you had to guess they were the size of Ghost, if not bigger, but it was hard to get a good read between the fact that they were covered in tactical gear and the poor lighting in the room.

The slimy man slunk forward, approaching you with a sneer that pulled up the flaps of skin on his jaw unnaturally, his two body guards followed closely behind him, starting straight ahead, unbothered about the fact that the light hanging from the ceiling brushed the top of their heads.

“How are you feeling?” The greasy man crackled, putting his face far to close to yours, his breath stunk of rotten fish, and his teeth were yellow and more stumps then anything else.

You did not give him the pleasure of a response, only staring straight back into his shark like eyes. It would take much more than bad breath to make you break.

“I really am so sorry about this.” he began, placing a hand on your shoulder and walking around you. You swore that you could feel his hand leave a trail of slime as it passed along your shoulders and the back of your neck.

He stopped in front of you once more. “I just have a few questions. I’m sure you understand how this… business goes?” He asked.

“Who are you?” You asked, willing your back to remain straight and constantly reminding yourself to maintain eye contact. Don’t give him the pleasure of a reaction.

His sneer, which has been consistent up until now, faded at that. Instead it was replaced with a stomach curling smile.

“Oh? Oh oh oh, come on now!” He cackled, his eyes almost seeming to bulge from his skull. “That’s not important!”

“What is important,” his voice dropped into a sudden whisper, the smile dropping from his face in an instant, “is where those documents your friends found are. So, care to share?”

You kept your face neutral, projecting what you could only hope was a display of perfect calm, as you leaned forward to look him right in his beady eyes. “Go fuck yourself.”

His skin started to stretch and bulge again as his mouth pulled up in to a smile and he erupted in giggles that sounded almost like radio static. Seriously what is wrong with this guys voice?

“I was hoping you’d say that!” He yelped, the sound reminding you almost of a hyena. How they laugh when they’re hunting. How they derive joy from others pain.

“Have at em’ boys.” And with a final sickening smile in your direction he walked out of the room.

Your time here so far had been absolute hell. After that very first beating they tossed a bag over your head and dragged you to another room. This room was similar to the old one, except it had a flimsy cot in one corner and a bucket in the other. Not to mention it was far more filthy.

You could only assume these people operated on a 24 hour schedule, and if the lack of daylight hasn’t completely fucked up your sense of time yet you’d deduced that you’ve been here about a week.

Everyday was the same. You’d wake up on your flimsy cot, and have nothing to do for hours but contemplate when, if, you’d ever be saved. With each passing day that if was getting bigger and bigger.

A little after your daily crisis two large guards would enter your cell, restrain you with a bag over your head, and drag you to another room. Once there and secured by multiple pieces of rope the bag would be removed and you would be greeted by the horrible image of grease man and two of his goons.

He would ask you multiple questions, you wouldn’t answer, and thus he would leave his goons to beat you. Following that they would bring you back to your current residence.

Shortly after your daily beating two guards would enter your cell. One would point a gun at your head while the other would set down a tray of food, if you could call it that, on the floor. The substance on the tray was simple, to put it nicely. A small cup of water, paired with a small stale bread roll, and maybe half a cup of some kind of strange, greasy vegetable mush. Is this what made the guy who was obviously in charge so greasy? You hoped you wouldn’t stay long enough to find out.

And thus that was your routine today. You sat on your cot after your tray was collected by the guards. You could feel the festering wounds on your ribs, given to you the first day you got here. The pus in them told you they were getting infected. God you hoped your boys found you soon. What the fuck were they doing?

You shifted on your cot, taking inventory of your most recent injuries. You had multiple bruises on your face, and you feared you had a concussion, as when you stood up the world spun and you felt weak. Although that could very well be because you were being given practically no food or water. You also could barely walk, you suspected a broken knee the cause.

Your clothes were absolutely filthy and you are sure you smell like shit. You’ve been left in a tank top and cargo pants. Everything else had been taken when you’d gotten captured. Including your socks and shoes, to prevent you from getting far if you ran you suspect.

And then, unexpectedly, a large guard burst into your cell and stood in front of you, aiming a gun at your head. You leaned back on your cot, calming observing him as two more men hurriedly came into your cell, one of them being the slimy man in charge.

“You are going on a little trip.” He growled, anxiously glancing over his shoulder at the guard behind him.

You kept your vision on the guards gun that was in front of your forehead despite the spark of excitement in your gut. Don’t give them the pleasure of a reaction. “Nice gun.” You quipped, trying to mask your feelings.

The guard evidently did not appreciate your compliment as he yanked you up onto your feet, causing you to wince as your knee screamed at you, and he roughly tugged your arms behind your back and secured them with a zip tie. The other guard quickly approached you and tugged a bag over your head.

There would only be one reason they would move you on such obviously short notice. Someone was raiding their base. It might be your boys coming for you or it might be someone else and they’re taking precautions. Either way you had to treat it like the latter, this could very well be your only opportunity to escape.

You struggled to orient yourself as you were dragged through the complex. You tried your best to note corners and the sounds around you but you were being dragged more than you were walking and you could barely force yourself to stay conscious.

As you turned another corner you heard a loud bang of metal hitting something. A door opening? You were dragged forward and felt sunlight on your skin, you never thought that you would miss that feeling so much.

Just as you were basking in actually being outside you heard the loud screech of a plane overhead, and then the whistle of bombs being dropped. Fuck.

You heard the guards yell something, they pulled and pushed but you couldn’t tell what was happening, and then, all at once, an impact.

You flew back, your travel stopped by violently crashing into something. A wall? You could feel intense heat in front of your still covered face, it was almost painful. You knew that you had to move, now, but your knee was screaming at you from you putting your weight on it and your ribs hurt worse than ever. It would be fine to just take a little nap right? At least you would die in the sunshine.

You were startled out of your nap by someone roughly throwing you over their shoulder, causing you to let out a pained grunt.

“Sorry Stitch but we have got to move!”

Wait a minute you know that voice. Don’t you? You at least recognize that name, there isn’t many people who call you that.

The person was running, you could recognize that at least by how much they were moving, every time their shoulder moved it jostled your ribs causing you to let out a pained groan.

After what felt like a century they slid to stop, shrugging you off their shoulder and placing you against a wall. They yelled something you couldn’t make out and then the bag was off your head and you could see again.

Hovering in front of you with his brows furrowed in concern was Price. He reached behind you to quickly free your arms.

“Stitch! Are you alright?” You heard someone yell over the sound of gunfire. Turning your head you saw Soap next to you. You hadn’t even seen him there.

“Evac is in 1 minute! Hold position!”

Who said that? Price? Where did he go? He wasn’t in front of you anymore. You tried to will yourself to focus, being this out of it in an active war zone guaranteed death.

You attempted to ground yourself by taking stock of your surroundings. You’re on a roof, placed against a wall. Soap is on one side of you, peaking out from behind cover to fire at who you could only guess were your kidnappers. Price was on your other side in a similar situation, but where were Gaz and Ghost? Did they not come or are they just outside your line of sight? You hoped they were okay.

Your vision was swimming. How long had you been awake? It felt like forever. You leaned your head back against the wall. You could just rest for a moment couldn’t you? Your boys would wake you up.

You were stirred awake by your body being jostled side to side, and the loud sound of wind rushing past. You had to will yourself to wake up, were your boys alright? You could never live with yourself if they got hurt retrieving you.

You slowly peeled your eyes open, and your suspicions were immediately confirmed, you were in a heli.

“SITCH.” And with a call of your name someone’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, causing you to yelp in pain as they constricted your ribs.

“Let up Soap!” You heard a raspy voice bark from the other side of the Heli, causing you to lift your head to look at them. You were met with Price, who was looking at you with obvious concern. You never thought you would be so happy to see his horrible, horrible, hat.

Soap pulled back to hold onto your shoulders, being much more gentle now but still keeping a firm grip.

“Scared the shit out of me Stitch.” He admitted, raising his voice to be heard over the Heli. Despite his loud volume the look in his eyes told you that he had nothing but soft intentions.

You rocked forward to tackle him in a hug, which he immediately returned, taking care to be far more gentle this time. Gosh you missed him.

Pulling yourself partly away from him you called out, “Is anyone hurt?” Only hoping your voice was able to carry over the sounds of the heli.

Gaz leaned over from where he was sitting on your other side to put a hand on your shoulder. “We’re all fine Stitch, worry about yourself for once!”

“What he said!” Price called out, giving you a pointed look that clearly said “Rest for once in your life or I’ll make you.” Ghost simply nodded his head, but you could tell he was questioning your sanity at being help captive for a week and the first thing you ask them is if they’re all alright.

“We are landing!” You heard from the front of the heli. Nik? You never thought you would be so happy to hear him.

As the heli cruised down to the base you saw a stretcher and medical personnel waiting, one of your boys must have called in your injuries.

The heli landed and your boys systematically got out until it was just you and Ghost left. You attempted to stand to get out but started falling over as soon as you got your legs underneath you.

Before you could hit the ground Ghost quickly wrapped one arm, with a gentleness you did not know he possessed, around your waist. He brought your other arm around his shoulders and gently and slowly helped you walk. He let you limp along, yet he was still supporting most of your weight, he knew he would at least want to walk out on his own two feet if he had just survived a week of torture. You deserved the same respect.

And so he helped you make your way slowly out of the helicopter, and assisted you in sitting down on the stretcher as the rest of your boys watched. As the medical personnel rolled you away you gave one final wave towards your boys. You couldn’t thank them enough for this.

You were getting increasingly anxious to see your boys.

It had only been about 6 hours since you were brought in, and you are sure that if they had been allowed to they would’ve come in already, but doctors and nurses were still anxiously fluttering around you, although thankfully the scans and blood tests were slowing down to a stop at last.

You were in a hospital bed, the smell of antiseptic was comforting and reminded you of home. It reminded you of long hours in the medical bay tending to your boys stupid injuries, yelling at them for not taking care of themselves, what you would give to go back to them right now.

You were roused out of your daze by a sound coming from the other room, the lobby? It was hard to tell where it was coming from.

The doors flew open, (unsurprisingly, you really needed to teach them how to open doors normally) and Price came stomping in.

“It has been 6 bloody hours! I want to see them damnit!”

“Captain I know your upset but we’re running tests, please step outside.” Said a nurse who quickly came up to try and push him back outside.

“Price!” You croaked, your voice was shot to hell and back due to all the smoke you had inhaled earlier.

He immediately rushed over to your side and gently brought you into a warm hug, you could feel his shoulders shaking slightly, was he crying?

“Kid I am so fucking sorry. This never should’ve happened on my watch.” He said sternly as he pulled back to look you in the eyes. Contrary to what you suspected he wasn’t actually crying, but his face was getting more and more red by the second and he was shaking fiercely.

You pulled him back into a hug, (on a list of things you missed, Price’s hugs definitely make top 10).

“Don’t say that. You did everything you could, it was my own fault that I got captured.” You said, attempting to soothe him.

He pulled back once again, and you had to suppress a whine as his heat and comfort left you. Let me hug you damnit old man!

“No. It is no one’s fault but the bastard who captured you. Roger?” He asked strictly, looking you dead in the eyes.

“Check Captain.” you said, your eyes filling up with tears. You missed him, you missed this, so much.

Your emotional moment was interrupted by someone clearing their throat, causing you to turn your head.

There stood the rest of your boys in all their glory. Their presence was not helping your emotional state as once you caught sight of them the tears started flooding out of your eyes like a waterfall.

Gaz and Soap immediately sprung into action, both of them leaping forward to wrap you in a hug as gently as they could. Price fell back to let them comfort you but kept a hand on your shin the whole time to remind you he was there. Ghost didn’t join in on the hug but he was rubbing gentle circles on your back, his presence was quite but his intentions could never be lost on you.

You had a long, long road of recovery ahead of you, there was absolutely no denying that, but with your boys by your side you have no doubt that you’ll make it.

Just after one more question.

“Hey guys, which one of you ordered those bombs dropped on my head?”

Silence.

“OHHHHH would you look at the time? Ghost don’t cha’ remember we have that uhhh meeting! Yeah a meeting!”

“At midnight Soap?” You asked, completely deadpan.

“Yep! Y’know those people in charge! No sense of time! Come on Ghost!” And with that your local Scotsman ran from the room with his tail between his legs, Ghost following behind with a sigh.

“I’m gonna kill that fucker the moment I can walk again.”

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pillarsalt · 1 year ago

Note

You made a post that says theres no wrong way to be a woman (I agree!) but you tagged it gender critical which says to me you are not including trans women and other gender expansive forms of womanhood, which is at odds with the first statement. I want you to understand that trans women (and you know exactly who I mean by this, do not twist it to mean trans men) experience the same violence that cis women do. Harassment, domestic violence, murder, medical neglect, reproductive harm. Trans womens struggle and cis womens struggle are inexorably linked. If you want to be transphobic and ignore this, so be it. But don’t call yourself a feminist or claim that theres no wrong way to be a woman. It’s slimy and dishonest.

Hmmmm actually I think what's slimy and dishonest is a bunch of straight white dudes using stats from violence that impoverished transwomen of colour (majority of them gay) who are prostituted and trafficked experience to paint themselves as the most victimest victims. In reality, it is generally safer to be a transwoman than any other demographic.

"Trans womens struggle and cis womens struggle are inexorably linked" how? why? because they say so? Transwomen know as much about womanhood as any other man. I stand by my statement that there is no wrong way to be a woman -- they're not being women at all. All it takes to be a woman is to be an adult female human being. There are no "gender expansive forms of womanhood", there's just womanhood, it simply doesn't include men no matter how much they want in.

#ask #radfem safe #radical feminism #radfems please touch #gender critical

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jetii · 2 months ago

Text

Event Horizon

Chapter Eight: Loyalty

Chapter WC: 11,915

Chapter Tags/Warnings: background character death, brief description of wounds/blood

A/N: This is a long one! I had to make up for all the Rex we were missing before. Please enjoy the angst (my fav) and my attempt at writing battle scenes (my agony).

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Felucia, 21 BBY

"This is disgusting," you mutter, wiping the sweat from your forehead. It's a fruitless endeavor, the humidity unbearable. You're soaked to the bone, the mud caking your boots, the insects swarming around your face. You slap away a large winged bug and grimace when your palm meets a slimy substance.

"It's not that bad," Rex replies, his helmet under his arm. His hair is damp, skin shining, but he doesn't seem bothered by the weather, and you can't help but be a bit jealous. "I've seen worse."

You glare at him and wipe your hand on your tunic, the ichor smearing across the fabric. You'd forgone your usual white robes, the outfit too impractical for a planet like this, and instead opted for a set of beige, lightweight clothing. It was simple, a pair of pants, a tunic, and a matching hooded cape draped overtop your chest plate, but it allowed for more freedom of movement despite the way the moisture in the air made the fabric cling to your skin.

"Says the man in the full-body armor," you retort, gesturing at him with a dirty hand. "How are you not dying right now?"

He shrugs, the smile on his face a touch smug. "Guess I'm just built different, sir."

You roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth lift into a smile. Despite the heat and the bugs and the general unpleasantness of Felucia, you've found yourself enjoying the company of the Captain. Rex is a capable soldier, and he's easy to work with, but it's his sense of humor and dry wit that have made the mission bearable. You've found yourself relying on his calm, collected demeanor and his quick thinking. He's a natural leader, and his men respect him, which makes your job a lot easier.

You trudge forward together at the front of the line, careful not to step into any of the large pools of standing water. The ground is squishy, the mud oozing beneath your boots, and you resist the urge to gag.

You're walking beside a stream, the water slow moving and murky. A few large, bulbous plants hang over the banks, the pods swaying slightly in the breeze, and the air smells earthy and sweet, a combination of rotting vegetation and fresh flowers. It would have been beautiful, had it not been for the stench of decay and the constant buzzing of insects. And the knowledge that, at any moment, something could pop out of the bushes and try to kill you, or worse, eat you.

"So, this is where the Separatists want to make their stand, huh?" you say, your voice low, and your eyes scanning the horizon. "They picked a real shitty spot."

Rex snorts, and the sound is loud and surprising. The sudden urge to laugh threatens to bubble up, and you bite your cheek, fighting to remain serious. You might be a little delirious, the heat and the humidity making it difficult to think straight, but Rex's reaction is too much.

A burst of laughter escapes your lips, and you cover your mouth, your shoulders shaking. Rex looks at you, his brow furrowed, but his expression is amused.

"They picked a good defensive position, sir," he corrects, the words a half-hearted reprimand. It loses its impact, however, as his own lips twitch upwards. "It's a tactical choice. This terrain makes it difficult to advance."

"You're right, I know," you manage between giggles, and you hold up a hand in apology. Your laughter tapers off, and you take a deep breath, wiping the tears from your eyes. "Sorry, it's the heat, I think."

Rex shakes his head, and his eyes twinkle. "I get it, sir. This place is...something else."

The two of you continue along the stream, and the troops fan out, keeping a safe distance behind you. You sigh and run a hand through your hair, pushing the sweat-soaked strands away from your face. It's been several days since you landed on Felucia, and you've been fighting the Separatists nonstop. The jungles are filled with traps and wildlife, and the enemy is well-equipped for the terrain. You've managed to secure a few key locations, but the fight is far from over.

Anakin and Obi-Wan have led the bulk of the assault, while you and Ahsoka have been assigned the task of clearing out the smaller outposts. You'd spent the morning in the thick of the battle, using the Force to aid the clones as they took out enemy droids. Now, you're on your way back to the rendezvous point, and the heat of the jungle is starting to get to you.

You feel as if you've been dipped in a vat of swamp water, and you can't shake the feeling of stickiness, the sensation both disgusting and unpleasant. You'd give your left arm for a cold shower, or at the very least, a fresh set of clothes.

You turn, and Rex is staring at you, a frown tugging at his lips. You must look a sight, the sweat pouring down your face, the mud splattered on your boots and trousers. It's far from your best, and you can't help but wonder what Rex is thinking, whether he finds you unappealing or repulsive.

The thought causes your stomach to twist, and you glance down, avoiding his gaze.

"We're almost there," Rex says, noticing the look on your face. He puts his helmet back on, the click echoing in the silence. "Just a little further."

"Thank the Force," you groan, and you can't stop the pout that forms on your face. "I'm beginning to think we should just let them have this stupid planet."

Rex chuckles, the sound distorted by the modulator, and he gestures at the trail ahead. "Just keep moving, sir."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," you mumble as you wipe more sweat from your eyes. "I'm going, I'm going."

The two of you move forward, your pace slow and measured. You're tired, the heat and the humidity sapping your strength, and the fatigue is beginning to catch up with you. You stumble, and Rex grabs your arm, his grip firm but gentle.

"Steady, sir," he murmurs, and he waits for you to regain your balance before releasing you.

You mumble an apology, and you take a deep breath, trying to shake off the tiredness, the ache in your muscles. You're not used to this, the physical exertion of war. The fighting is one thing, but the constant marching and camping and traveling are another. The heat, the humidity, and the lack of sleep are all taking their toll.

You've been running on adrenaline, and it's finally catching up with you.

"You're not looking so good, General," Kix says from behind you, his voice laced with concern. "Are you feeling alright?"

You try to hold back your long-suffering sigh, the urge to roll your eyes strong, but you manage to refrain and turn to face him, the effort almost too much. Kix helmet darts from you, to Rex, and back again, the worry evident in his posture.

As the medic, Kix's place was with the Captain, staying close to his side and monitoring the men. It was a responsibility he took seriously, and his care for his brothers was admirable. It made you trust him and respect him, but you were also incredibly sick of his constant vigilance. He had a tendency to hover, and you were starting to feel smothered. He reminded you a bit of a certain ginger-haired Jedi, and it was hard not to let it rankle you.

"I'm fine, Kix," you insist, trying to keep your temper in check. You give him a weak smile, the expression meant to be reassuring, but you know it's probably coming off more as a grimace.

"You've been sweating an awful lot," he observes, and his tone is suspicious, the words a bit accusatory. "You could be dehydrated."

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. "It's a jungle, Kix. Everyone's sweating."

"You don't look like everyone, sir," he counters. His medical scanner is out before you can stop him, and he runs it over your body, the whirring noise grating. "You look flushed, and your pulse is elevated."

"Will you quit it," you hiss, slapping his hand away. You take a step back, putting some distance between the two of you as if it'll make your sudden irritation dissipate.

Kix stiffens at the rebuke, and his hand lowers to his side, the scanner still gripped tightly.

"I'm just trying to do my job, sir," he protests. "And right now, that job involves making sure you're okay."

"It's the adrenaline," you snap, and the words come out harsher than intended. You wince immediately, the guilt settling in. You'd been struggling with your temper, the anger simmering just beneath the surface, and you were doing your best not to take it out on the people around you, but sometimes, you slipped. "We need to keep moving, or else we'll be left behind."

"Kix is right," Rex interjects as he steps forward, his tone firm. "You look like you could use a break, sir."

"Captain," you warn, and you level him with a glare. "I am fine."

He folds his arms over his chest, and even though his face is hidden behind his helmet, you can tell by the way his body is angled towards you that he's not backing down.

You grit your teeth, the stubbornness setting in, and you square your shoulders, mirroring his posture. The two of you stand there for a moment, locked in a silent stare down, neither of you willing to budge. The rest of the troops continue marching past you, their bodies rigid and their footsteps heavy. They avoid looking at you, gazes focused straight ahead as if they can sense the tension between the two of you.

Rex is the first to speak, his voice quiet and measured. "You've been pushing yourself pretty hard, sir."

"You haven't seen me push myself," you scoff. "I'm only getting started."

"I'm just saying, maybe it wouldn't hurt to slow down."

"I'm not going to slow down," you argue. You plant your feet, the movement resolute, and the determination settles into your bones. You weren't about to let some hot-shot captain, no matter how handsome, or nice, or charming, tell you what to do, or how to act, or how to handle your own mission.

Rex, on the other hand, seems completely unperturbed by your show of defiance. His stance is relaxed, his shoulders loose, and he seems entirely unconcerned. He simply continues to stand there, arms crossed, and his helmet tilted ever-so-slightly to the side. It's an infuriating gesture, and you have to fight the urge to throw something at him, or, better yet, to push him into the stream.

You glare at him, and the silence stretches on, the seconds ticking by. With every step the troopers marching on the path take, your resolve wavers. You can feel yourself start to wobble, the tiredness getting the best of you.

You can't deny that, maybe, perhaps, Rex has a point. You've been pushing yourself hard, the guilt and the shame fueling your desire to prove yourself, and it's starting to wear on you. Still, you can't seem to bring yourself to admit that he's right, and the thought of slowing down, of admitting defeat, is just too much.

So, instead, you just keep glaring.

Kix's voice, when he speaks, is cautious. "General, if I may..."

"What," you snap, not bothering to look away from Rex.

"You're clearly dehydrated, and you could be suffering from heat stroke. Maybe the Captain is right. Maybe we should—"

You turn your glare on Kix, and the words die in his throat, his helmet dipping, and he takes a step back. You open your mouth, ready to give him a piece of your mind, but your vision is struggling to catch up to the sharp movement of your head, black spots clouding your eyes, and the words don't come.

The ground shifts, and your balance falters. You sway on the spot, your knees buckling, and you pitch forward.

"Sir!"

Rex moves with surprising speed, and his hands reach out, catching you by the waist. You feel the mud squelch beneath your feet, and then his arms are wrapped around your torso, holding you up. You blink a few times, trying to clear the fuzziness from your vision, and you feel another pair of hands grab your arms, helping steady you.

"I'm alright," you mutter. You shake your head, and the world comes into focus. Rex is still holding you, and Kix is standing beside him, his expression concerned. You can't help but blush, the embarrassment creeping up your neck, and you swallow hard, willing your heart to slow.

"Sorry," you say, your voice hoarse, and you wince at the sound of it. "I think I need a minute."

"Take as much time as you need," Rex replies, his voice soft, and he lets go of your waist. Kix takes hold of your arm, and he helps guide you off the trail and into the thick underbrush. Once out of view of the marching army, you settle against a tree trunk, the bark rough against your back. You lean your head back, and you shut your eyes, willing the world to stop spinning.

"I hate this place," you mutter bitterly. Your back slides against the trunk, and you end up sitting on the ground, your legs stretched out in front of you, and the mossy leaves squishing beneath your weight. You're grateful for the shade and the small breeze that rustles the canopy.

Your eyes open as Rex kneels beside you, his helmet tucked under his arm, and his gaze scan the trees. He looks back at you, his brow furrowed. "It is pretty disgusting."

"Understatement of the year," Kix quips. He pulls a canteen from his belt and hands it to you. "Drink this, sir."

You take the canteen and gulp down the liquid. The cool water soothes your throat, and you feel your strength returning, the weakness receding.

You hand the canteen back to Kix and manage a smile. "Thanks, I needed that."

"How are you feeling?" Kix asks, his tone clinical. He pulls a scanner from his belt and begins waving it over your body.

"Better," you reply with a tired sigh. You glance around, the jungle a blur of green and brown, and the realization sets in. You're supposed to be in the middle of a mission, not sitting in the bushes, wallowing in your misery. You look at Rex, and he gives you a sympathetic smile.

"I'm sorry. We're wasting time," you say, and you start to push yourself up. "We should get moving."

Rex places a hand on your shoulder, pushing you back down. "Not a chance, sir. You're going to rest until you're feeling better, and then, we'll move out."

"You sure? What if—"

"General, please," he interrupts, and the use of the title, and the pleading tone of his voice, causes your resistance to crumble. "You need to rest. Don't worry, we'll keep an eye out."

Your mouth opens and closes, and you realize he's right. There's no use arguing, or trying to change his mind. Rex is just as stubborn as you, and if he's set on helping you, then there's no way you're going to talk him out of it.

Finally, you sigh and nod, closing your eyes. Your muscles are sore, and the heat is draining, and it's a relief to get off your feet. The sounds of the jungle fades away, and all you can hear is the sound of your own breathing. You can feel the Force all around you, the life that exists within the plants and animals. It's a living, breathing entity, and you let yourself get lost in its rhythm, the connection between you and the world a strong, steady flow.

Meditation has always been a useful tool, but it's been harder since Yaddle, the anger and the self-loathing making it difficult to quiet your thoughts. Today, though, surrounded by nature and the bright, pulsing life all around you, the meditation comes easier, and you lose yourself in the peace, the darkness fading.

Time slips away from you, and you're not sure how long you sit there, basking in the light of the Force. It's only when a hand touches your shoulder that you snap out of your trance, and you leap to your feet, drawing your saber in one fluid motion.

You press the button, the yellow blade hissing to life, and the world comes rushing back, the sounds and the smells and the sights assaulting you.

Rex jumps, and he steps back, holding up his hands. "Woah, easy there, General."

"Shit," you mutter, and you lower your saber. The adrenaline ebbs away, and you take a deep breath, the tension leaving your body. "I'm so sorry, Rex. I didn't mean—"

"It's alright," he says as his hands fall, his voice hoarse. "I shouldn't have snuck up on you like that."

"No, I should've known better," you protest, feeling embarrassed. You deactivate your lightsaber and tuck it back into your belt, and you take a step closer to him, checking to make sure you haven't injured him.

There's a spot on his shoulder, the blue material slightly scorched, and you realize that the tip of your blade had come a little too close for comfort. You reach out instinctively and run your thumb over his pauldron, the armor still warm from the proximity to your weapon.

"Are you okay?"

His helmet tilts down, the visor following the movement of your hand, and he clears his throat, his voice sounding a little strange. "Yeah, I'm good, sir. Nothing a bit of paint won't fix."

You glance up at his face, the helmet still tilted towards you, and he shifts, his posture stiff. It's hard to tell if he's upset, but his body language reads as uncomfortable. "You sure?"

"I, uh, I'm fine," he replies, and he clears his throat again. His hand comes up, and he runs it along the back of his neck. He seems nervous, and you're about to ask him what's wrong when you realize you're still touching him, your fingers still running along the edge of his pauldron.

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and you snatch your hand back, clenching it into a fist at your side. "Right. Sorry. It was just, um, habit, I guess. Did you need something?"

Rex coughs, and he shakes his head. He's quick to respond, the words coming out rushed. "Uh, yes. Actually, I did. I was just coming to let you know that the rest of the men have gone ahead to the rendezvous point. They should be there any minute."

"Oh," you say, the realization dawning. The jungle is empty, and the only sounds are the rustling of leaves and the buzzing of insects. "Shit."

"You've been asleep for an hour, sir. We've been taking turns watching you."

Your mouth falls open, and the flush returns to your cheeks. "An hour? Seriously?"

"Yeah," Rex says, the amusement evident. "We weren't sure what else to do, so I let you rest. You seemed like you could use the sleep."

"I can't believe I fell asleep," you mutter, covering your face with your hands. "I'm sorry, Rex. I didn't mean to keep everyone waiting."

He shrugs, and his hand moves to your shoulder, squeezing it gently. "It's okay, sir. Don't worry about it."

You can feel his touch through your armor, the pressure sending a tingle down your spine. The solid weight of his palm is a welcome distraction, and you let yourself enjoy it, the feeling grounding.

"Are you feeling better?" he asks, his voice soft.

You nod, the answer coming without hesitation. "Much."

His hand lingers for a moment longer before he releases his grip. He drops his arm, and his helmet tilts, his gaze appraising. "Good. Come on, let's get you back to base."

"After you, Captain," you say, giving him a small bow. He chuckles, and the two of you walk side-by-side, his arm brushing against yours. The path ahead is worn down by the many boots and vehicles that have trod upon it, and it's surprisingly easy to find, the trees spaced far enough apart that it's possible to walk without tripping over roots and branches.

The humidity and the heat have subsided, and the temperature is pleasant, the sun low in the sky. You can hear birds, and frogs, and various other animals, the sounds loud and raucous, and the air smells sweet, the flowers filling the air with their fragrance. It's a nice change from the stench of decay that's permeated the day, and you find yourself enjoying the walk, the beauty of the jungle finally becoming apparent.

You glance at Rex, his head moving left and right as he scans the area. His shoulders are relaxed, his stride even, and he seems more at ease than he has been since you've arrived on the planet. The thought makes you smile, and you feel your own stress lightening.

"How's Ahsoka?" you ask, breaking the silence.

"She's doing well," Rex answers without turning. "A little hot, but she's handling it better than you."

"Togruta are built for this kind of climate," you say, a touch of defensiveness in your voice, and you're careful to avoid stepping on a large vine that's fallen across the path. "I can't help that my human body is weak and fragile."

"You're hardly fragile, sir," he teases, glancing over his shoulder. "I saw you punch a clanker on Geonosis."

You snort as the memory hits. "That was different. I was angry."

"And reckless," he adds. His tone is more amused than admonishing, and you know he's smirking at you from under his helmet.

"I thought I was brave," you counter, raising an eyebrow. "Isn't that what you said the other day?"

He chuckles, and he shakes his head, his gaze returning to the trail ahead. "I did."

You grin, a pleased feeling washing over you. From what you've gathered, Rex is a man who takes his duty and himself very seriously. You've seen him joke with the other clones, and there's a camaraderie between them that's obvious. But, there's a formality when he speaks to others, a sense of professionalism. It's clear that he respects the chain of command, and you can't help but feel flattered that he's comfortable enough around you to tease, and to speak more freely.

You're reminded of his words to you that day, when he refused to allow you to chase after Dooku in your misguided anger. He had seen the truth of the situation, and he had been willing to speak up. And you weren't sure how he'd managed to break through your stubbornness, but he had.

You're grateful for his honesty, and for his willingness to challenge you. It's refreshing, and it makes you like him all the more.

"What are you thinking about?" Rex asks, his gaze never leaving the jungle, and his hand rests on his blaster.

"Just thinking about Geonosis," you reply. "And how you told me off."

"I did not tell you off," he protests, his tone indignant. "I merely...advised against you acting rashly."

"You did," you retort with a laugh. "But, I'm glad you did. Otherwise, I might not be here right now. I never got a chance to thank you, and I want you to know how much it meant to me."

He shrugs, and his steps slow. "Any good soldier would've done the same."

"Still," you insist, shaking your head. "You saved my life. I owe you."

Rex stops, and he tugs his helmet off, the action so sudden, it startles you. He's staring at you, his expression intense, and his mouth is pressed into a firm line.

"You don't owe me anything," he replies, his brow furrowing. "That's not how this works."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we're soldiers," he says, voice tight. "Our duty is to protect the Republic, and the citizens of the galaxy. We are sworn to serve, and that includes our Jedi. It's not about debts or favors or gratitude. It's about doing what's right and what needs to be done."

You fall silent, the weight of his words settling over you. It's a noble sentiment, and it's easy to see why he's risen so quickly through the ranks. You've always known that the clones were loyal, that they would die for the Jedi, for the Republic. But, it's the first time you've heard one of them explain it, and the intensity in his voice makes your heart clench.

It, for whatever reason, makes you feel uneasy. Not because you don't believe him, but because you're not sure if he understands. There's a difference between loyalty and blind obedience, and there's a part of you, deep down, that worries that maybe Rex doesn't know the difference. That maybe the Republic prefers it that way, that it's easier to have a slave than an ally.

You shake your head, dismissing the thought, the shame settling in. You're being paranoid, you know. Rex is a good man, and his loyalty is a gift. A gift that, perhaps, the Jedi have taken for granted.

"I'm sorry," you say, your voice quiet. "I didn't mean—"

"It's not your fault, sir," he says, cutting you off. "We were created for this. This is what we were made for."

The words are meant to be reassuring, but they have the opposite effect. Your stomach twists, and the unease grows, the guilt weighing heavy.

"Doesn't that bother you?" you ask, unable to stop the question from leaving your lips. "Being created for a single purpose?"

He looks at you, his head tilted slightly. His face is impassive, his expression blank, and it's impossible to read his thoughts. You hold his gaze, and you realize how little you really know about him, or the other clones. You've been so focused on yourself, on your own failures, that you've barely given any thought to the fact that there's an entire group of people fighting alongside you, fighting and dying, and all you've done is complain about the weather.

He shrugs, and his posture changes, his shoulders dropping slightly, and he runs a hand over his head. "Not really," he says, and he sighs. "It's all we know."

"But, it's not fair," you protest, shaking your head. "You're not just soldiers. You're people. You have thoughts and feelings and hopes and dreams. And, yet, the galaxy expects you to put them all aside, to lay down your lives, for a cause you had no choice in joining."

Rex is silent for a moment, and his steps slow. He seems surprised by your words, his brow furrowed, and the corners of his mouth turn downward.

You realize you've said too much, and the guilt returns. You shouldn't have opened your mouth. You should have just kept your thoughts to yourself.

You try your best to push down the part of you that wants to continue, to say more. To tell him that the Republic is corrupt, that the Jedi are blind, that the galaxy is full of suffering and pain. That the war is a waste, that it will lead to nothing but destruction, and that he deserves better. But, you swallow the words, the anger and the frustration building, and you keep them locked inside.

The truth is, you don't know Rex, not really. And you don't have the right to tell him any of those things. No matter how much you might want to. No matter how much you feel.

Rex's face, however, shows none of these emotions. He's silent, the only sounds the buzzing of insects, and the rustling of leaves, and just when you're beginning to think he's not going to respond, his shoulders rise and fall.

"Well, I for one am grateful," he says, his voice soft, and he keeps his eyes trained straight ahead.

"What?" you ask, not expecting his answer. "Why?

His gaze flicks towards you, and the corner of his mouth twitches. "Because it brought me here."

"Here?" you echo, raising an eyebrow. "Felucia?"

"Yeah," he says, chuckling, and the tension melts away. He gestures to the surrounding jungle. "I mean, not exactly here. But, the idea. It's just...if the War hadn't happened, I wouldn't be here. None of us would. We'd just be sitting on Kamino, waiting for the day we're decommissioned. Or, maybe, we'd already be dead. Or never have existed in the first place. It's hard to say."

The words are spoken casually, as if they're a matter of fact, and the realization sets in. He's right. If not for the war, the clones wouldn't exist. They'd be just a handful of embryos, a dream, a plan.

But, the war gave them life. And, for many, it gave them death. The thought sends a chill down your spine, and you look at him, the understanding hitting.

"I see," you say, the words coming out quietly. "I suppose I've never thought of it that way."

"It's the only way I can think about it."

Rex's gaze moves back to the path, and you fall silent, his words echoing in your head. He's right, of course. There's no point dwelling on what could have been. The war is here, and there's no going back.

You can't help but admire his attitude, and his ability to find the positive. It's not the first time he's impressed you, and you realize that perhaps, he's the most optimistic person you've ever met. You wonder, briefly, if all clones are like that, or if it's something unique to him.

The two of you walk in silence, the conversation having run its course, and you sneak glances at him as you continue on, the curiosity getting the best of you. There's something about him that's magnetic, and the longer you're around him, the harder it is to look away.

He's handsome, and strong, and kind, and everything you're not. The thought makes your heart sink, and you're reminded once again of your shortcomings, of the darkness inside of you.

You wish, for the briefest of moments, that you were worthy of him, that you deserved his loyalty and his respect.

But, you know you don't.

You shake your head, the movement slight, and the dark thoughts vanish. It's useless. Wishing won't change anything.

Instead, you focus on the task at hand, the mission, and you try to clear your mind. You're almost back to the base, and the thought fills you with relief.

It's another few minutes before the two of you emerge from the thick foliage, and the camp comes into view. It's a large clearing, surrounded by towering trees, and the ground is a combination of dirt and grass. Several tents are being set up, and the sun is beginning to dip below the horizon. It's a welcome sight, and the anticipation of food, and sleep, and a chance to get out of your armor, is a tantalizing prospect.

You're halfway across the clearing, your eyes focused on the makeshift mess hall, when the air shifts, and the hair on the back of your neck stands on end. You come to a stop, and you reach out to grab Rex's arm, the feeling of foreboding overwhelming.

"Sir?" he asks, his voice low, and his body is tense, coiled.

You're about to answer, but you're cut off by a blaster bolt hitting the ground at your feet, the impact sending up a spray of dirt and rock.

You react on instinct, drawing your lightsabers, the blades glowing brightly, and you spin around. You're able to block the second shot, and the third, the energy of the bolts sizzling against the saber, and you step forward, your body moving into a defensive stance.

Rex is beside you, his blasters drawn, and the two of you move together, circling around, scanning the jungle for the source of the attack.

"Stay behind me," you tell him, the order sharp, and your gaze flicks over to him.

"Sir, you should stay behind me," he counters, his tone just as firm. "This is my job."

"Captain, I'm not going to let—"

"There!" one of the troopers shouts, pointing his finger at a group of trees.

The air is split by the sound of gunfire, the shots ripping through the underbrush, and the blaster bolts tear into the vegetation. Several of the branches fall to the ground, and the trunks are peppered with smoking holes. You can see the glint of metal bodies, and the flash of red, and you grit your teeth, the anger rising.

Droids.

It's an ambush.

The droids are closing in, the outlines barely visible through the thick, green leaves, and they're firing with a single-minded determination. Rex signals for the men to fire, and the clones begin returning the shots, their guns flashing. Several droids fall, but more appear. The battle is on, and you move to the edge of the clearing, intent on taking the fight to the enemy.

Rex is close behind you, his presence a comforting weight, and the two of you rush towards the tree line. The droids are scattered, the blaster bolts raining down on the area, and you raise your blades, ready to meet the enemy head-on.

Your first strike is a slash, the blow slicing through a super battle droid's midsection, the halves falling apart.

Rex is at your side, and his shots hit the next two droids, the metal bodies sparking and sizzling.

You take the next one, a swing cutting the machine's arm clean off, and the appendage flies through the air. You leap into the fray, the blades blurring as you move, relying on your muscle memory to keep you going as you scan the jungle. The droids are everywhere, and the clearing is filling with their bodies.

It's chaos.

You're surrounded, and it's all you can do to keep the shots from hitting the men, your sabers swinging, the light reflecting off the armor and the trees. You throw a boulder, the Force propelling it forward, and the impact crushes a group of the machines.

They keep coming, and the clearing is a whirlwind of activity. You can't see Rex through the mass, and you grit your teeth, the frustration building. You've barely begun, and already, the droids are getting the upper hand.

It's a losing battle, and you can't help but wonder if, maybe, there's another way.

A droid aims a blaster at your chest, and you deflect the shot, sending the bolt ricocheting before leaping into the air. You land behind it, your lightsaber severing its head.

The head hits the ground, and you glance up, seeing Rex's outline through the haze, the smoke from the blasters clouding the area. He's moving in your direction, and you move to meet him, your sabers a blur, the heat of the bolts making your skin prickle.

His head whips to the side before he suddenly grabs your arm and pulls you, his body twisting. You're about to protest, but the words die on your lips as an explosion rocks the ground where you were standing. Your ears are ringing, and you struggle to stay upright, the shockwave rippling through the clearing.

Rex looms over you, his blasters raised and his body shielding yours. You can't hear anything, but you can tell by the way his helmet is moving that he's speaking to you.

Your head is pounding, and your vision swims. You look up, blinking, and your eyes finally focus on the scene before you. The spot where you'd been standing is nothing but a smoking crater, the dirt and rocks scattered. The trees, too, have been shattered, their trunks broken, the leaves ripped apart.

You take a deep breath, and the sound comes rushing back. You can hear the shouts of the clones, the sound of blasters firing, and the explosions of grenades. It's all so loud, the noise deafening, and you want nothing more than to curl up in a ball and wait for it to be over.

Instead, you stagger to your feet, your body aching. Rex grabs onto your arm, helping steady you. He says something, his voice muffled, and you shake your head, trying to clear it.

"What?" you shout, trying to be heard over the cacophony.

He leans closer, his grip tightening. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," you lie, pushing yourself away from him, and you take another breath, the dizziness subsiding. You give him a weak smile. "That's two I owe you, Captain."

He shakes his head, and the helmet tilts, the motion conveying the exasperation. "You can repay me by not getting yourself blown up, sir."

You roll your eyes, but you can't help the smile that spreads across your face. "I'll do my best."

Another blast hits the ground a few feet away, and the two of you jump back, the dirt and rocks flying. The droids are still advancing, their numbers seemingly endless, and you realize that the clones are losing ground.

"We have to get out of here," Rex shouts, the panic obvious. "This is a losing battle."

You glance around, trying to see a way out. The clearing is a battlefield, the bodies of droids and clones littering the ground. It's a bloodbath, and the men are outnumbered. There's no hope of winning, and it's only a matter of time before they're overrun.

You can feel the weight of the decision pressing down on you. It's not the first time you've faced such a dilemma, but it never gets easier. The will to keep fighting, to give everything you have, to protect the people you love.

And yet, there's another part of you that knows when to retreat, when the cost is too great. It's a part of you that you're ashamed of, a part that you try to bury. But right now, with Rex at your side, and his brothers' lives in danger, it's hard to ignore.

You look at him, and his gaze meets yours. You find yourself wishing you could see his eyes, and the expression on his face. To know what he's thinking, and what he's feeling.

He seems to sense the question, and he gives a slight nod, the gesture conveying the understanding. He's with you, and whatever choice you make, he'll support you.

The knowledge helps. And it strengthens your resolve.

"Alright," you say, grimacing, and your hand lifts as you activate your comm. The static crackles in your ear, a deafening roar, and you're not sure if anyone will hear. "Anakin, can you hear me?"

The line is silent, and for a moment, you fear the worst. Then, a voice, garbled and distorted, cuts through the noise.

"Goldie, what the hell is going on?"

Relief floods you, and you press the button, the sound of the battle still raging around you. You press your back against the tree, using it as cover, and Rex does the same a few feet away.

"We have to retreat," you shout, your words almost drowned out by a barrage of blaster bolts. "There are too many droids."

Anakin is quiet for a moment, and the sounds of the battlefield echo through the comm. You hear his saber slice through something, and he yells a command, the order almost indistinguishable.

"We can't," he says, his breathing labored. "We have to stand our ground."

You watch Rex, and the helmet turns, his body still tense. He's focused on the fight, but you can feel his anger, and his frustration, and his desire to protect his brothers. It's palpable, and the emotions feed yours, twisting, and pulling, and growing.

You swallow, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. "Anakin, we're getting slaughtered out here. We have to pull back, regroup, and try again later."

"Not an option, Goldie. We can't afford to lose this base," he counters, his tone firm. "If we lose the base, we could lose the planet."

Rex ducks from cover, firing, and a droid falls, its limbs jerking as the sparks fly. He's back in position in seconds, his helmet turning, searching for another target.

The droids are advancing, and they're beginning to surround you, their metal bodies crowding the tree line. The clones are starting to fall back, and the gap between the two forces is narrowing.

It's getting dangerous, and it's only a matter of time before the battle will be completely lost.

"Anakin, listen to me," you say, your voice low. "We have to leave. If we stay here, we're going to lose more than the base. We're going to lose the entire battalion."

The words seem to echo in the air, and the tension in the clearing is so thick, you can feel it. You take a deep breath and reach out, trying to center yourself. The Force around you is in chaos, but you can feel Rex, his presence steady and strong. You cling to it, to him, and it's the only thing that keeps you from spiraling into panic.

Anakin doesn't respond right away, and the silence drags on. More and more clones are falling back, passing you and heading towards the safety of the jungle. You see Kix dragging an injured trooper, the man's leg a bloody mess, and you wince.

You wait for Anakin's response, knowing the decision is his. You've given your advice, and you trust him to make the right choice. You always have, and you always will.

But, right now, in the heat of the battle, it's hard to have faith.

"Fine," he huffs at last, and his voice sounds strained. "Pull back, but we're coming back with a plan to take this damn base."

You breathe a sigh of relief, the weight of the decision lifted from your shoulders. "Copy that. We'll rendezvous at the secondary camp."

You end the transmission, and Rex glances at you, his helmet tilted.

"The general is calling a retreat," you explain, and his shoulders relax slightly. "We need to get to the secondary camp, and then, we can regroup."

"Yes, sir," he says with a nod. He raises his hand, signaling to the clones, and his voice echoes in the clearing, the sound carrying over the chaos. "Fall back! Fall back!"

You watch the troops obey, the men retreating into the jungle, their bodies disappearing into the foliage. It'll be miles before you reach Obi-Wan's camp, and the walk will be a long one.

You look at Rex, and the two of you share a brief moment of eye contact before he's moving, and the two of you fall into step beside each other, running alongside the others. The droids follow, the battle raging, and the forest is filled with the sounds of gunfire, and screams, and the hum of the blasters.

The sun has set, and the air is cooler, the night sky a dark purple barely visible through the canopy. You keep running, the exhaustion beginning to set in, and the ache in your muscles making each step a struggle. The path ahead is littered with obstacles, the fallen trees and rocks, and the thick underbrush making the going difficult. You can hear the footsteps of the clones, the rattling of their armor, and you try not to think about how many might be injured, or worse.

You try not to think about what might have happened if you'd stayed, or how many more would have died if you hadn't made the decision to retreat.

The guilt is a constant, weighing heavier on you with every step. The battle had been a loss, but you couldn't shake the feeling that the retreat had been a mistake. That you should have pushed harder, or come up with another plan. It's a feeling you've had before, and it never gets easier.

The pain in your head grows the longer you run, the headache becoming a dull throb, and the pressure builds, the darkness threatening to take over. It's a familiar sensation, and you try to block it out, focusing on the path ahead and on keeping up with the pace.

The minutes drag on, and the air becomes more humid, the scent of rain filling your nose. The droids are still pursuing, and you can see the flashes of their lights as they move through the trees. But, they’re getting farther and farther away, the gap between the two sides widening.

The wave of relief is tempered with the exhaustion that finally catches up with you, and you have to slow down, your breathing heavy. You stumble, and Rex reaches out, his arm steadying you.

"Sir, are you sure you're okay?" he asks, his voice low with concern, and the helmet tilts as he studies you. "You took a pretty bad hit."

"You don't have to babysit me, Rex," you retort. The words coming out more sharply than intended, and Rex immediately drops his hold on your arm.

"I'm not babysitting you, sir," he says stiffly. "I'm just concerned. It's my duty to make sure you're safe."

You roll your eyes, the frustration rising, and the anger bubbles to the surface. It's been a long day, and the last thing you want is to be coddled. Especially not by Rex, especially not when all he's doing is making you feel like a failure and a liability.

"I'm fine," you insist, a bit harsher than necessary, and you start moving again, intent on leaving him behind, the urge to put distance between the two of you growing. "I can take care of myself."

He falls into step beside you, his steps quickening to match yours.

"I'm well aware, sir," he says. The exasperation in his voice is clear even through the modulation of his helmet, and you can't help but wince. You're being unfair, and you know it. But, you can't stop the feelings from building. "But, I would appreciate it if you would allow me to do my job. And, my job is to protect you."

"And, my job is to protect you," you bite out through clenched teeth. "All of you."

You shake your head, and the guilt settles in, the regret mixing with the anger, and the resentment, and the self-loathing. It's a potent combination, and it makes your stomach twist, the nausea growing.

Rex doesn’t respond, the two of you walking side by side in tense silence. It's unbearable, and you know it's your fault. You're the one who started it, after all. You're the one who keeps picking fights and pushing people away.

But, you can't help it. You're not built for this. For the war, and the battles, and the responsibility. You were never supposed to be here, and the more time you spend on the front lines, the more you realize how unprepared you are, how out of place.

It's a harsh reality, and it makes the anger burn brighter.

It's not fair, and it's not right, and it's not what you want.

And, yet, here you are, leading a battalion and fighting a war. And, no matter how hard you try, you can't seem to get it right. You can't seem to keep them safe, or stop the fighting, or end the war. You can't seem to make a difference, no matter how hard you try.

You can't seem to do anything.

"With all due respect, sir," Rex starts, breaking the silence. His voice is soft, and he sounds almost...defeated. "It's not the same."

You stop, your gaze shifting towards him, and he slows, coming to a halt beside you. The clones keep moving, and the group is beginning to stretch out, the men spreading out along the trail.

You look at him, and he meets your gaze, his posture tense.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, there's a difference," he says, voice deliberate and measured. "We were made for this, to fight and die. You weren't. And, we don't expect you to. We know you're doing your best."

The words hit harder than expected, and the breath leaves your lungs, the realization sinking in. It's not the first time you've heard it, and the clones have said it often. But, somehow, coming from him, it seems to carry more weight. You don’t like it. Not the words, not the sentiment, and not the way it makes you feel.

You shake your head. "I'm a Jedi," you argue. "This is my job, just as much as it is yours."

"No, sir," he counters, his tone firm, and the certainty is unmistakable. "Your job is to lead, to guide us, and to protect the Republic. Our job is to fight, and die, if necessary. We're expendable, you're not."

The words sting, and you can't help the flinch, the emotions threatening to overwhelm. It's too much, and the tears sting your eyes. You take a deep breath, trying to swallow the feelings down.

"That's not true," you say, shaking your head. "You're not expendable. You're valuable, and important, and you deserve to be protected."

Rex sighs, the sound crackling through his modulator, and for a moment, he just stares, the gaze impossible to read. He's silent, and the only sounds are the footsteps of the clones, the rustling of the leaves, the distant sounds of the battle, the echoes of explosions reaching your ears.

He reaches up and slowly pulls off his helmet, and his eyes lock with yours. The moonlight shines off his face, highlighting his cheekbones, and the curve of his jaw. He looks tired, the bags under his eyes more prominent, and the worry is etched into his features underneath the dirt and the sweat.

It hurts to look at him. To see the concern, and the understanding, and the care in his expression. It makes the guilt and the shame that much worse.

"I know you believe that, sir," he says, and his voice is quiet and gentle. "But, the truth is, we're soldiers. This is what we were bred for. What we were created for. And, if we die, we'll have fulfilled our purpose. We'll have served the Republic, and the Jedi. That's enough."

The words are said with a finality, and you understand without a doubt that he believes them, every single one. That, in some strange way, he's happy with the path he's on.

You shake your head, unable to wrap your mind around it. Unable to accept it. "Rex—"

"General," he says, cutting you off. He moves closer, his hands clenching around the helmet in his grip. "Listen, the last thing I want is to make this about me. But, I need you to understand, this is how we see it. How we feel. And, I don't think you can lead us if you don't recognize that."

His gaze is intense, and his eyes search yours, looking for something. What, you're not sure. But, it's clear that he's not going to back down, and that he's not going to change his mind.

You swallow as the realization sets in. The truth is, you do know in a way, perhaps more than either of you realize. You've known since the moment the Jedi found you, since the moment you were brought into their fold. That, to the galaxy, and the Force, and the universe, you were always a tool, a means to an end. That your life was not your own, not really.

And, that, one day, you would die, and it would all be for nothing.

"Why?" you ask, the question slipping out before you can stop it.

"Because, it's the truth," he says, and the response is so honest, and so open, it makes your chest ache.

"No, I mean, why are you so okay with it?" you ask, shaking your head. "Why aren't you angry, or frustrated? Why aren't you fighting it?"

His lips press together, the frown pulling at the corner, and he looks away, his eyes focused on the path ahead. He runs a hand over his head and down the back of neck, the action seemingly unconscious.

He's silent for a long moment, and you wait, the anticipation growing inside you.

Finally, he sighs, his shoulders sagging, and he glances at you.

"Because, I was made for this," he says, his voice soft. "This is what I was created for. And, I know I'll never be able to do more than this."

His words are like a punch to the gut, and you can't hide the hurt in your eyes. The look on your face seems to make him realize the impact of his words, and Rex quickly averts his gaze, his expression contrite.

He turns, and the two of you continue walking, the silence settling over the two of you, the awkwardness growing.

You're not sure why his words bother you so much, but they do. You've always known that the clones were designed for war, that their sole purpose was to serve the Republic. But you've been bothered by it since the day they arrived, beacons of hope and fear and everything in between. Since the first time you saw Rex, a sense of dread washed over you, and a pit formed in your stomach. It's a feeling that's only gotten worse as time went on, and every day brings new horrors.

The more time you spend with them, the more human they seem. And the thought of their lives being taken for something so meaningless makes you want to scream.

You've never been able to understand how the Council could condone the use of the clones, or how the Jedi could turn a blind eye. It goes against everything you were taught, everything you believe. And, it's a constant reminder of the corruption and hypocrisy of the Order.

The thought makes the anger rise, the resentment bubbling to the surface.

"It's not right," you mutter, and the words are more to yourself than to him. "It's not fair."

Rex looks at you, his gaze meeting yours. His eyes are dark, and they're filled with something. Something you can't quite name, something that makes your chest tighten and your heart beat faster. He doesn't ask, and he doesn't have to. He knows.

"That's just the way it is, sir," he says, his voice steady. "This is our place, and we have to make the best of it."

The words are heavy, and they land with a finality that resonates. He's accepted his role, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to fulfill it. No matter the cost, no matter the pain.

You wish you could be that selfless, that determined. You wish you could be like him, and Anakin, and Obi-Wan. They all have a strength that you'll never understand, a sense of duty and honor and courage that you can only dream of.

You wish you could have a fraction of their conviction, their dedication. But, you're not like them. You've never been like them. And, you doubt you'll ever be.

You're not sure what to say, so you don't say anything. Rex secures his helmet back on and moves ahead of you, taking point, his pace brisk, the armor glinting in the moonlight. You're left alone, and you're grateful for the reprieve.

You're not sure how to deal with your feelings, with your frustration. You feel helpless, and there's a part of you that wants to grab Rex by the shoulders and shake him until he sees the truth, until he understands.

But, you know that won't work. You know that, in the end, the only person who can change his mind is him. And, even then, you're not sure it would make a difference.

You walk, and the night passes slowly, the exhaustion seeping into your bones. Your body aches, and your head is pounding, the pain making each step a struggle. The battle, and the argument, and the journey have drained you, and the emotional toll is just as bad.

You try to reach out through the Force, to draw on its power, and it comes slowly, the energy flowing through you, and around you. But the presence of so much death and destruction is disorienting, and the pressure builds, the headache becoming a steady, throbbing pain. You need to find Obi-Wan, and soon. Otherwise, you're afraid you might snap.

You can't help but wonder if that's what the Council intended, when they assigned you to the front lines. To push you until you break, and then, send you back to the Temple, a lesson learned. Or, maybe, they don't care at all. They've washed their hands of you, and now, they're content to watch you fail.

The thought sends a chill down your spine, and the anger simmers, the resentment building. You're not sure what the truth is, but the possibilities are terrifying.

The base camp is quiet when you arrive, the men hunkered down and waiting for the next wave of attacks. You can feel their fear, their anxiety, and it makes your chest ache. There's nothing worse than the waiting, the not knowing. It's a different kind of battle, one that's just as dangerous, and just as painful.

You make your way to the command tent, the flap open and the light spilling out onto the ground. Ahsoka and Anakin are already there, looking over a holo-map, and their heads snap up as you enter, their gazes locking onto yours.

The tension in the air is palpable, and their faces are drawn, the exhaustion written on their features. They've both been through a lot today, and you can feel the weight of it pressing down on them.

You give them a small smile, and Anakin nods, his posture relaxing, if only slightly. His eyes shift behind you, and the concern returns, the worry etched into his face. You turn, following his gaze, and your eyes lock with Rex's.

He's standing in the entrance, his helmet in his hand, and his eyes are narrowed. The worry, and the anger, are clear, and it's obvious to you that he's still upset.

You turn back, the guilt too much to deal with, and you try to rub the tiredness from your eyes. As you move to stand beside Anakin, you can't help but notice the way Ahsoka's eyes flick from you, to Rex, and back again.

She frowns, and she glances at her master, the silent question in her eyes. He doesn't respond, his focus on the map, and she sighs.

"Are you alright?" she asks you, her voice low.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you reply, and you try to give her a reassuring smile, but you're not sure it's very convincing. "Just a little tired, that's all."

"It's been a long day," she agrees, and her eyes linger on the bruise on your face, the blood dried and flaking. "You should get that checked out."

You shake your head. "I'll be fine. It's just a bruise."

She gives you a look, her eyebrows raising, and she opens her mouth to protest, but Rex beats her to it, his voice cutting her off.

"I agree, sir," he says, moving closer. The armored plates of his thighs hit the edge of the holotable, his movements stiff, and you wince at the sound. "You should get it checked out."

The three of you look at him in surprise. He's been quiet since you arrived, but now, he's standing firm, his eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. He's not backing down, and the frustration is radiating from him, his anger almost tangible.

Anakin's eyebrows raise, and his lips twitch in amusement. "I see Rex has been acquainted with your infamous stubbornness, Goldie."

You roll your eyes. "I'm not that stubborn."

Rex makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a scoff, and you shoot him a glare.

"I'm not," you insist, crossing your arms. "Besides, there are more important things to worry about. We need to discuss our next move."

"Agreed," Obi-Wan's voice echoes from the tent opening. He enters with Cody close behind, his face drawn. "We have to come up with a plan, and fast. We're losing ground, and we can't afford to lose this planet."

His eyes drift over you, his gaze lingering on the bruise, and he frowns. "I see you've gotten yourself injured again."

The accusation is clear, and the anger flares, hot and bright. You bite back a retort, not wanting to start another argument, and you take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. Obi-Wan must feel it, because he sighs, and the annoyance leaves his face, his eyes softening with understanding.

"Come here, my dear," he says, gesturing as he steps up to you. "Let me take a look at it."

You hesitate, the embarrassment making the blush spread across your face. But, after a moment, you move forward, and his fingers lightly trace the bruise. You can't help but wince as he presses on the swollen skin, and his brow furrows.

"It's not serious," Obi-Wan says, his tone thoughtful. "But, you should be careful. Head wounds can be tricky."

"Thank you, Master," you say, the sarcasm evident, and he smirks. His hand lingers for a moment longer, and then, he drops it, stepping away.

"Now," he continues, moving towards the table. "We need to come up with a strategy, and quickly. There's no telling when the Separatists will make their next move, and we can't afford to be caught off guard."

You nod as you take your place, and the others follow suit, gathering around the holo-map. Through the blue projection of the battlefield, you can see the battle is still raging, the droids advancing, and the clones' position shrinking.

Your gaze shifts, and your eyes lock with Rex's, startled to find him already watching. His lips are pressed together, his jaw clenched, and his eyes are intense, the brown irises darker than usual. He looks away, his gaze turning back to the holo-map, and the feeling in your stomach grows.

You turn your attention back to the meeting, trying to focus, but it's difficult, your mind elsewhere.

You don't want to think about the fact that Rex cares, that his concern, and his anger, and his frustration are directed towards you. You don't want to think about what that means, or how it makes you feel. You can't, not when you're trying to keep everyone alive, not when you're trying to figure out a way to win the war.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself, and you look at the holo-map, determined to focus.

"How long before we can get reinforcements?" Anakin asks Obi-Wan. "We can't hold this position without help."

"The Council is sending additional troops, but it will take time," Obi-Wan says, a note of defeat in his voice. "We'll have to manage the situation ourselves, at least for the time being."

"So, what do we do?" Ahsoka asks as she looks around the table.

Obi-Wan shakes his head, his expression grim. "We fight. Hopefully, we can hold the line until reinforcements arrive."

"And if we can't?"

Your question hangs in the air, the unspoken truth hanging heavy between the six of you. If the Republic doesn't send help, or if the battle goes badly, there will be nothing stopping the Separatists from taking the planet.

It's not something any of you want, but the reality is harsh, and it's a possibility none of you can afford to ignore.

"Let's just focus on getting through the next few hours," Anakin says, his voice firm. "We can deal with the rest later."

The determination in his eyes, the unwavering resolve, is a familiar look, and one that you've seen many times. It's the same look he's had every time you've needed him, the same look he's had since he was just a youngling, always ready to help, to protect, to fight.

He's never backed down from a challenge, and he's not about to start now.

You take a deep breath, drawing on his strength, and you feel a small bit of relief.

"Alright," you say, nodding. "Let's get to work."

You spend the next few hours poring over the maps, planning your defenses, and trying to come up with a strategy. The reality is, there's only so much you can do, and the odds are not in your favor. But, you have to try, and you have to hope, and you have to have faith that the Republic will send help, and that the reinforcements will arrive before the Separatists destroy everything.

Finally, the meeting is over, and the six of you head back out into the camp. It's dark and quiet, and the air is heavy with smoke. The men are huddled around small fires, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames, and they're exhausted, their postures slumped, their expressions grim. There's a somberness in the air, and the knowledge that the battle is far from over.

You walk through the camp, offering encouraging words where you can, and trying to reassure the men, even as the doubt and fear continue to grow. You stop and check on the injured, offering what comfort you can, and you take the time to speak to the medics, ensuring they have what they need.

It's not much, but it's all you can do, and you're grateful for the opportunity to connect with the clones, even for a moment. On your way out, Kix presses a bacta patch into your hands, his eyes narrow in disapproval.

"You need to take care of yourself, sir," he says, voice firm. "No one else is going to do it."

You roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. "I will. Promise."

He's not satisfied, but he doesn't argue, and you continue on, your feet carrying you through the camp. You wander, the exhaustion making your movements slow, and the ache in your muscles growing.

Your steps eventually bring you to the edge of the jungle, and you stand, your eyes sweeping over the landscape, the view breathtaking. The moonlight reflects off the trees, the canopy lit up, the colors vibrant. The scent of the forest fills the air, the smell of earth and life and nature mixing with the smoke, the acrid stench of death.

You can't get Rex's words out of your head, his voice echoing in your ears, the memory playing over and over again. You know he's right, and that the clones are different, and that their lives are more expendable than yours, but it doesn't make it any easier. It doesn't change the fact that, in the end, you're all fighting and dying for a Republic that doesn't care about any of you, a system that's broken, and corrupt, and flawed.

You let out a frustrated breath, the anger simmering, and you look up at the sky, the stars glittering. You don't get to see the stars on Coruscant, not with the light pollution, and it's a sight you'll never get used to.

"I can feel your anger," a voice says, and you glance to your left, surprised to find Ahsoka standing beside you. Her eyes are narrowed, and her arms are crossed over her chest. "You're upset."

"I'm sorry." You look away, turning back to the view, the guilt settling in. "I'm just frustrated. It's nothing."

She moves closer, and she's quiet for a moment, her eyes studying you. "About the battle?"

You sigh, shaking your head. "About the whole damn war."

She hums, her expression thoughtful.

"Me too," she admits, and her gaze shifts, her eyes finding the stars. "There's so much, and sometimes, it feels like there's no end in sight."

"It's like no matter what we do, it's not enough," you say, your voice quiet. "The fighting, the death, the sacrifices...it's not changing anything."

Ahsoka is silent, her gaze focused on the night sky, and you can feel her uncertainty, her emotions swirling. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from saying more, to keep from pouring out all your doubts and fears and frustrations. She's younger than you, and she's struggling, just as much as the rest of you, and the last thing she needs is you putting even more pressure on her.

But, before you can apologize, and try to distract her, she speaks.

"We must do the hard work of mastering our fear, so that in turn does not master us," Ahsoka says. She pauses, the words weighing heavily. "Master Yoda taught us that. I never understood, not until recently."

"Yeah," you say, and the sadness hits, the realization settling in. "Me too."

She turns, her eyes finding yours, and her expression is solemn. "We have to stay positive. We have to believe that there's a way out of this, that we'll find a solution. Otherwise, the anger, and the hate, and the despair...they'll consume us, and we'll never be able to come back from that."

The tears well, and you nod, your throat tight. For a moment, you don't trust yourself to speak, and the silence stretches between the two of you. Ahsoka seems to understand, and she turns back to the view, giving you the time you need to collect yourself.

You look up at the stars, the sky bright and the stars glinting, and, for a moment, you can almost believe.

"We will find a way," you say with a conviction you don't feel, and you give her a small smile. "We have to."

She nods, and her lips curve upward. "Yes, we will."

"Has anyone ever told you you're wise beyond your years?" you tease.

She rolls her eyes, and her smile grows, the amusement lighting up her face. "Not as much as they should."

You can't help the laugh, the sound bubbling out of you, and the tension leaves your body. She grins, her expression mischievous, and she nudges you playfully with her elbow.

"You know, if you ever want to talk, I'm here. We can...hang out, or whatever."

The invitation is unexpected, and the surprise must be written on your face, because she quickly adds, "I mean, if you want."

The happiness flooding your chest catches you off-guard, and it takes you a moment before you can find your words.

"I would like that," you say, and she returns the smile, her relief palpable. "How are you at Sabacc?"

She raises her eyebrows, interest sparking in her eyes. "Pretty good. Why?"

You grin. "I have a deck in my tent."

"Are you challenging me, Master?" she asks with a smirk.

"Only if you're brave enough, Padawan," you say, and her smile widens.

"Okay, bring it."

You laugh, and the two of you turn, heading towards the tents. As you walk, Ahsoka starts talking, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you, and you find yourself relaxing, the anxiety easing with every step. It's a rare occurrence, these moments of levity, and you're grateful for the chance to be happy, if only for a little while.

You'll need it, if you're going to survive what's to come.

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#the clone wars #captain rex #clone captain rex #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #obi wan x reader #roy writes #i hope you didn't think this romance was going to be easy

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