#you know how bad I must feel to make that worth it lol

[goldkirk]

I ate half a serving of some really really good pesto pasta in the evening. Just rocketed out of bed at 3 AM after an hour or so of intense rounds of pain and I’m not going to go into details but holy shit I wish I never ate more than a couple bites of it and just brought a smoothie or soup to the restaraunt instead this is AWFUL. Literally hauled myself into the bathtub with warm water just to breathe.

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

honestly it's been really healing being back to actively contributing things and writing out thoughts on tumblr the last week or so, because while twitter tends to be easier for me to write out Thoughts on without getting overwhelmed, the environment in the twitter fandom circles i'm interested in is not only infested with antis but cliqueish in a way that is caustic to the fucking soul if you try to express a thought that's more than three sentences long--a hundred times over if you're autistic in slightly the wrong way--and it's incredibly reassuring to come back to an environment where the very kindest and most inclusive people toward you are not clearly thinking the r-slur the entire time they interact with you lmao

[muniimyg]

4: the cold // series m.list

note: reblogging w fic taglist cos the limit is annoying n my posts keep glitching </3 sorry for the long wait! i literally finished c2u and was working on c2u's extras as well as attempting to keep my life together LOL . this jk is literally GETTING INTO IT YUHHH . hope everyone is enjoying the story ,, i'm so excited for the rest ! we're halfway thru :( if u missed aao jk ,, lmk ur fave moment of his as of now huhuhuuuu

taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “aao” // DO NOT comment here or on the masterlist . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks !!!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main @ellesalazar @jkslvsnella @parkinglot-nights @kissyfacekoo

//

Picture this. 

Jungkook sent you a text, claiming to be sick. He said:

jungkook (liar) 3:09PM: no fr i get so dizzy standing up lol

jungkook (liar) 3:09PM: deadass i’m wearing like 7 layers and i’m chilly af .. need the warmth of ur arms, baby 🙏🏼

jungkook (liar) 3:10PM: do u think u can come by w some medicine? i’d owe u like… my whole heart

jungkook (liar) 3:10PM: nvm gave that to u already 😘✋🏽

Your natural response to his concerning text messages was to call him. When you called to check up on him, you noted how he coughed at every perfect pause... How his voice was toned groggy with a hint of pathetic. 

Just as pathetic as his lie. 

Does he think you're dumb? Fine. Two can play this game.

The second Jungkook opens the door and is greeted by his friends, grinning goofily with alcohol in their hands—he feels the urge to shut the door at their face. “Ah, for fucks sake—”

“Not so fast!” Hobi squeals as he grabs your wrists and tugs you from the back of the crowd to the front. Offering you to Jungkook, Hobi winks, “I believe this belongs to you.”

Jungkook’s eyes soften at the sight of you.

Lowering his head, he purses his lips for a kiss. You blink at him, letting him stand there like a fool. A few of his friends chuckle at the rejection, but it doesn’t dishearten Jungkook. Instead, he lifts his head and carries on. 

Hey, the kiss was worth a shot. 

With a patient tone, he tries to talk this out. “I thought it was just going to be you coming over...”

Shrugging at him, you answer; “And I thought you were sick.” 

"Well, what can I say? I always feel better whenever you're around." Jungkook chides.

Unimpressed, you tsk at him. “Nice try, buddy.”

Your hunch was right.

Jungkook wasn't sick.

There was no eye bag in sight, no cough to be heard, and with the short amount of time it took him to answer the door; he doesn't seem dizzy at all. If anything, he looks freshly showered and prepared.

For a sick man, his 5PM fit was rather suggestive. He's wearing jeans, and a white wife beater with an off-white button-up unbuttoned. He must know he's hot, right? He wore this on purpose.

"A little dressed up for someone who should be pretending to be sick..." you poke his chest.

Jungkook grins, instantly shrugging his button-up off. "Oh, my bad. Here, I'll undress and—"

"Jungkook!" you gasp as you tug his button-up back on. "Your friends are here! Don't be so shameless—"

"Whose fault is that?" he laughs. "___, was I not clear when I asked for you? You. Not the circus.”

“Hey!” Nam Joon cries from the crowd. “Are you calling me a clown?”

Jungkook lifts his head and shakes it. Smiling at his hero, he assures Nam Joon; “Not you, hyung. I love you.”

Earning a few laughs, the moment ends when Jin interrupts and pushes past you. Jungkook places his arm in front of your body, gently moving you against the wall. He shoots Jin a glare but Jin doesn't seem to catch on. He makes one final comment before inviting himself into Jungkook's home; “Stop sucking Joon's dick and let us in!”

As his friends cheer and begin to invade his home, you stand still and laugh at them hustling in. As they make random remarks, Jungkook warns them not to touch certain things in his living room and that his bedroom is off-limits. Walking in, his friends can't help but feel out of place when they spot the homecooked meal Jungkook prepared for you two. The table is all set up. The projector is ready to go in the living room corner, accompanied by the ever so comfy set up of pillows and fuzzy blankets on the couch… The fuzzy blanket on the couch that Taehyung and Hobi have now wrapped themselves in.

Yeah..

Jungkook did not see this coming. He groans at the very sight. His plans were ruined.

Once Jimin gets his little ass inside, you take that as your cue to head in. You duck under Jungkook's arm and just as you think you’re about to get away—he stops you. He takes a step back and swoops his other arm around your waist.

“Not so fast.”

You huff. “Okay. I’ll walk in slow motion—”

“___…” Jungkook says in a warning tone. “Yah, I said I was sick and you show up here with my friends?”

You poke his chest. “I had a feeling you were up to no good. I brought reinforcement.”

For the most part, Jungkook likes to think he has you figured out. Then, you pull shit like this and he is completely tongue-tied.

Jungkook can’t help but applaud your move. It’s petty and nonchalant… It’s well played. Yet, he feels bittersweet at the very realization that you’ve outsmarted him so early on. 

To be fair, his main moves are centered around lies. 

… Is it so wrong that he thought he could at least get one last good lie before facing the truth?

The truth is that he has grown to like you so much he has completely lost control of his words and thoughts. Every time he’s around you—that’s it. That’s the entire moment. That’s his entire world. He doesn’t know how to keep it that way, you know? He hasn’t figured out how to freeze time and just be with you. So, he lies. He lies in an attempt to make the moment last just a second longer. 

He knows he could have you with a simple conversation and his bunny smile. He knows he’s kindhearted and would be a great boyfriend if you let him… He’s just having a hard time navigating through all the feelings. They consume him faster and fiercer than he expected. The only way to keep up is to keep you near, and the only way to keep you near is to keep making excuses. 

Thus, this week’s excuse. 

He huffs at you. "A home-cooked meal, a movie on my projector, and comfy blankets... Means I'm up to no good? Come on, ___. This is ridiculous!"

"You've been so mischievous ever since—"

"It was just the ice skating thing!" Jungkook defends himself.

"It was also the pocky thing—"

His eyes light up. Jungkook’s lips curve into a smirk. "Ah... Thinking about our kiss, huh?"

Now you feel sick.

Was he serious? How does he do this to you? He says everything so bluntly and out of pocket, your tummy has no choice but to flip upside down and feel all the butterflies flutter.

"N-no!" you panic.

"Pucker up and prove me wrong," Jungkook insists, shutting his eyes and pursing his lips at you. "Like you said, I'm not sick. Kissing me won't get you sick—love sick, maybe..."

You cross your arms at him.

"Jungkook."

Opening his eyes one at a time, he puts his hands up and lets you go. He'll admit defeat here. Clearly, you aren't happy with his moves...

He'll try this.

He'll try honesty.

“___," he smiles, attempting to lighten the mood. "Hey, I was trying to—”

“Flirt?” you finish his sentence. “Yeah, sure… Has it ever occurred to you that you can flirt with me without lying?”

His eyes widen. 

“Does it bother you that much?” He asks, feeling like he is completely messed up. “I’m sorry, baby. I thought it was harmless—”

You shake your head, denying his accusation. It was deeper than that. It is the principal and the root of his lying being a habit in your relationship.

“It’s not that it bothers me that much… It's just... Y-you don't have to do all this, you know? I like getting to know you, but it feels like it's impossible. You keep setting up scenarios for yourself to look good in or for me to take care of you in. I'd do it regardless if you're hurt or not. You know that, right?"

"I do," Jungkook agrees. "I just..."

You look at him with sincere eyes. "Jungkook, I'm just not understanding... Why? It’s just weird to me that you were so confident and honest when you confessed. To be honest, I really admire that part of you. B-but now that you’re… That w-we’re…. Uhmm—it's different. You're acting differently. You can flirt with me all you want. It's whatever... But maybe try something else? I'm tired of you lying, Jungkook.”

He gulps.

"You want honesty?" Jungkook begins. "Here it is... I like you too much. Like, so much that I don't know what to do with myself whenever you're around—not to mention it's even worse when you're not. I want your attention. All the time. Everything about me for everything about you."

"Jungkook—"

"Can you wait for me?" He asks you unexpectedly. "Wait for me to get it right... Because I know I can. I will get it right."

When you two join everyone inside, Jungkook’s apartment is filled with so much chaos it’s difficult for him not to A) partake and B) be upset about everyone crashing his date night (by ambush). 

Honestly, Jungkook’s been pretty busy lately. He’s been neglecting his social life as school, work, and you (not that he’s complaining) have been taking over. In a way, he finds it sweet that you ruined his plans with yours. Especially since you came in with all his friends. It was a nice surprise. He will definitely take note of your sneaky ways too. 

By the time everyone gets hungry, there’s barely any space for anyone to eat. Some friends are sitting on the floor, eating off the coffee table or parts of the couch. Others are eating standing up, and the rest crowd over his tiny kitchen island and dining table. There are a few girls you’ve invited here and just as usual, you all went to the bathroom together. As you all enter back into the scene, there is absolutely no space. 

“___!” Jin calls you over. “Eat with us.”

You look at the girls and exchange laughs. They tease you before pushing to towards the dining table. As you approach, you realize there’s barely space let alone a seat. Without much thought, you gravitate towards Jungkook who is sitting and eating. Squeezing your way through, he notices you and nods towards Hobi. Hobi then responds by handing you a plate of food Jungkook set aside for you. Taking the plate, you thank Hobi. Jungkook then pushes his chair back and just as he’s about to get up from his seat to give to you—

“No, it’s okay. Sit.” You insist. 

“But you don’t have a seat—”

Then, it happens so naturally.

You place your plate on the table next to his and take a seat on his lap. When you do this, all the boys exchange looks but say nothing. Their eyes almost pop out of their head and Hobi even chokes on his food. He tries to hide it and turns away so you don’t think twice about it. They’re all aware of how shy you are and this? This was a big thing for Jungkook that they couldn’t ruin. You were finally coming out of your shell.

Thank god.

Meanwhile, Jungkook feels winded. 

He can’t believe this. 

He can’t believe you.

But given the circumstances… He might just have to. So, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he smiles at you warmly and tells you that he put all your favourites on your plate. He tells you to eat everything and that he ordered strawberry bingsoo for dessert. 

“I love strawberries!” you gasp. Looking up, you bat your eyelashes and tease him, “yah, you make it too obvious you have a crush on me… You know that?” 

Jungkook squints at you, followed by scrunching his nose. You lean against his forehead and mimic his little stare. 

It takes everything in him to not lean in and kiss you.

Slowly but surely, everyone leaves. The only ones left are you, Jungkook, and the other 6 clowns. Yoongi and Jin went out to start the cars while Joon, Taehyung, Jimin, and Hobi finished up taking the trash out or washing the dishes. 

You and Jungkook are tidying the living room. He thanks you for organizing the little get-together and apologizes again for lying to you about being sick. You tell him it wasn’t that serious—it was just built-up confusion and frustration. Further, you tell him that you don’t want him to see you as someone that he has to jump through hoops to spend time with. You tell him you want it too. You want to spend time with him too. You want to get to know him too. 

You want to fall in love—

"I can do that," Jungkook nods, understanding where you're coming from. Your thoughts are interrupted as he fluffs the final pillow and grabs your hands. He squeezes them and then lets go. "But only if you stop being so oblivious. At least try, you know? It's hard for me too. Like, we're dating and I'm trying to woo you and shit—"

Dating?

Woo you?

Shit.

Your heart skips a beat.

"Wait," you pause. "Jungkook, a-are we dating?”

Just when he opens his mouth to speak, Hobi interrupts. 

“___, let’s go! Jin wants to race Yoongi!” 

Jungkook blinks at Hobi. “You’re not racing when ___’s in the car. Are you mad?”

Hobi lifts his hands. “Shit man, I’m just the messenger!”

Without skipping a beat, Jungkook turns to you with stern eyes. “I’ll drive you home.”

You decline. “You’re already home. Relax, it’s Jin. He’s all talk and no bite.”

“___…”

As a compromise, you promise him; “I’ll ride in Yoongi’s car.”

He thinks about it for a moment. Then, he realizes he has no other practical choice. “Fine. At least if you guys do race, you’ll be in the winning car.”

Hobi coughs. “Yo, what the fuck? I’m riding in Jin’s.”

You laugh and tell Hobi you’ll meet them out the door in a second. Hobi leaves immediately, yelling at Jimin to trade spots with him so he can ride with Yoongi. Once he’s out the door, Jungkook’s apartment falls in silence. 

“.... I better get going,” you breathe. “I’ll see you around?”

Scanning his apartment, you smile at the sight of everything being tidy. Picking up your feet, you head towards the door. Like a sad puppy, Jungkook trails behind you.

As you head out, Jungkook feels an urge in his stomach to make this moment last longer. “Oh... S-sure. See you at the library tomorrow?”

“You hate the library.”

“No, I don’t—”

“It’s also Saturday tomorrow.”

Jungkook blinks at you. “I love spending my Saturdays in the library.”

Giggling at his awful attempt, you remind him, “hey, we just talked about you and your fibs—”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jungkook surrenders. He puts his hands up and tilts his head. Pouting as you put your shoes on, he continues to ramble. “See what I mean? I say the wildest things just to be with you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, plopping back up. Jungkook then helps you put your jacket on and gives you your tote bag. “Whatever you say, liar.”

He rolls his eyes at you. As you open the door, you face him with a silly face. He ruffles your hair as he bids his farewell, “Goodnight. Text me when you get home, baby.” 

Then, just like that, the door shuts and Jungkook is all alone.

As he turns away and finally feels like he can catch his breath after everything that happened between you two tonight, he hears the door knock. Turning back, he reaches for the doorknob, opens the door, and sees you standing there. 

“Did you forget something?”

“Goodnight kiss.”

He draws a blank. 

“What—”

Jungkook’s heart skips a beat as you tiptoe and reach for the nape of his neck and pull him close. Leaning in, you press your lips against him and kiss him softly. Without hesitating, he kisses you back and chases your lips the second you pull away. 

You pull away too fast for his liking.

“Okay, goodnight—”

He kisses you again, deepening it as much as he can. When you pull away to catch your breath, he sneaks in one last kiss. Then, he kisses your cheeks and turns you around. Before sending you off, he teases you one last time. 

“Go away. I hate you.”

Laughing at his words, you realize that sometimes—they aren’t so bad.

Him and his lies.

You and your reading in between lines.

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

Cherry Bomb (pt. 2)

James Potter x f!reader, Sirius Black x f!reader (mentioned)

warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, oral (male receiving), oral (female receiving), switch james? brief fingering, heavy making out, i love this smut w my heart

summary: you proceed with the second part of your plan. james potter.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: i’m so bad at writing summaries i’m sorry, i promise it’s worth it lol. i suppose this could be a stand off but i like reading them in order. hope you enjoy :) also ps if there’s any mistakes i’m sorry grammarly told me it was fine but i don’t fully trust that hoe smh

~~~

James Potter was a different story. He thought of himself as a gentleman though not many seventeen-year-olds were gentlemen. He thought this solely because he was nothing like his best mate. He had to at least know a girl's name before taking her to bed. Though, he typically liked to know a bit more than just that. So, in order to shag James Potter, one must abide by a few more rules than with dear Sirius Black. One, she must be friendly. Two, she must have some knowledge of quidditch. Three, she must be willing to stroke his massive ego despite how humiliating it may be. And four, the most important rule, she must be ready to play along with his games. Because James Potter was a chaser in all senses. And oh, how he loved a good chase.

~~~

You peak around the corner of one of the hallways, a bit out of breath. You just ran down a few flights of stairs to get here. For a few seconds you search the hallway, then he appears. He’s alone. Good.

It’s been two weeks since your night with Sirius, and it hasn’t been easy. You regret your whole show of making him remember your name, it’s caused more harm than good. But it felt good in the moment, it felt more than good. Shagging Sirius all together became your best shag the second he pressed you against the wall and kissed you till you were out of breath. You regret picking him first. In retrospect though, you had no idea how much he’d care for a second time. He’s always been known as a one-nighter. It’s been hard having to deny him, and it’s been hard convincing him that he has you mistaken for another girl. But you’ve managed.

You feel bad about it, but you try not to pay it much mind as the second part of your plan is about to begin.

You clutch your books to your chest and begin to walk down the hallway, your face down. You know what his shoes look like. So, when they begin to come closer you loosen your grip on your books and shift your body ever so slightly so that you’re in his way. Inevitably, the two of you bump into each other, and your books quickly fall to the floor.

“Shit,” you say as you fall to your knees to start gathering your things.

“Sorry love, didn’t see you there. Let me help,” he replies, crouching down in front of you.

You look at him. “Oh, it’s alright, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Me either.” He laughs, handing you one of your papers. His eyes linger on yours. “I think I know you.”

“I doubt it.”

“No, I do. You’re the girl my mate Sirius thinks he shagged.”

You look away, pretending to be flustered. “I don’t know why he’s so set on me. I mean, I was at that party, but I went back to my dorm with my friend. And I think I’d remember a night with him you know, with his reputation.”

“Yeah, I dunno, he tends to get hammered and forget a lot,” he says. You look back at him and watch as he runs one of his hands through his dark curls. A habit of his. “I’m sure he’ll stop bothering you soon enough.”

“Yes, when the next girl is in his bed,” you reply. The two of you share a laugh and you pick up your last paper. You hold them close to your chest and stand, he follows. “Well thanks for helping, you’re very kind.”

He smiles that brilliant smile of his. “It’s only right.”

You return the smile. “I’ve got to get to class thanks again James.”

“You know my name? Are you one of my adoring fans?”

He’s smirking now, his arms folded across his chest. His ego is taking over. Perfect.

You shyly look down for a few seconds before meeting his eyes again. “Isn’t everyone a fan of the famous chaser from Gryffindor?”

“You’d be surprised how many aren’t.”

“Well, that lot must simply consist of fools.” You look down at your watch. “Seems I’m going to be a bit late to history of magic. ‘Suppose it’s alright, I don’t care for it much anyway. But I best be going, wouldn’t want to keep you from your class.”

“That’s quite kind of you y/n,” he says.

You raise a brow. “Oh? Do you happen to be one of my adoring fans?”

“Perhaps, or perhaps Sirius has been talking our ears off about you.”

“I think I like the first answer better.”

He smirks. “I see. It was nice running into you then. Literally.”

“Yes, it was.” You step past him, your eyes lingering on him for a few more seconds. “Goodbye then James.”

“Goodbye y/n.”

You leave fast with a smile on your face.

Phase one is complete.

~~~

For the next two weeks, you have more of those run ins with James. Each time having a different reaction. Some end in a sweet goodbye, some end with you barely acknowledging him at all, and some end in a quick walk through the halls together. You know how it messes with his head. One day you’re a girl who strokes his ego with flattering compliments, and another day you brush past him as if he doesn’t exist. By the sixth encounter, you relish in the knowledge that he’s starting to bump into you. Not the other way around.

“I’m starting to get Sirius. I suppose he wishes it was you that he shagged.”

The two of you are walking alone, not another person is in the hall. You look up at him, your cheeks flushing when you find him already looking down at you. He runs his hand through his hair. You hate how it makes your stomach fill with butterflies. You turn your head away.

“I don’t know why he would wish that with me.”

“I could name a few reasons,” he says.

You’ve stopped walking at this point. You turn your body to face him, another shy smile on your face. James Potter is such a charmer. You’ve known this. Yet his words affect you as if you have no idea about his reputation of being a flirt.

This is bad, you think.

It’s been hard enough resisting the urge to take Sirius up on another night together, even harder keeping up the lie that it never happened. You should stop this before it gets any worse, you know that. However, from the look James is giving you, you know you won't be able to stop this no matter how hard you try.

“Yeah?” You eventually challenge. “What reasons might those be Mr. Potter?”

“For starters, you are incredibly fit.” You watch his eyes trail up and down your body for a few seconds before returning to yours. “You’re kind, you’re funny, you make your interest noticeable, but you aren’t desperate.”

“I never claimed to be interested in you though, that’s an assumption.” You point out.

He takes a step closer to you, your breath catches in your throat. “So, if I were to, I dunno, snog you right now, you wouldn’t be pleased?”

Despite everything in your head screaming at you to snap out of it and push him away for the plan's sake, you can’t. No matter how hard you plan it seems that James Potter’s charm outdoes it. You don’t dare to move a muscle.

“I’m not sure, you might have to test and see.”

He takes another step. “I don’t want to be hexed though, if this experiment ends in the possibility of you not liking it.”

You take a step forward. The two of you are so close you can practically feel the heat radiating off his body.

“Probability and possibility are different you know.”

He lifts one of his hands to your chin, tilting it up ever so slightly. “So, it’s a possibility that you’ll push me off and hex me, and it’s a probability that you’ll...”

“Snog you harder.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll take my chances then.”

He begins to lean his head down, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning yours up, meeting him halfway. The first few seconds are gentle. You like how soft his lips are, how you can taste the mint chap stick on them. But once that initial new feeling fades so does the gentleness.

Within a few short minutes you’re no longer standing in the middle of a hallway being kissed as if it were your first. Instead, you’re pressed against the wall in a broom closet, with your shirt half unbuttoned and James Potter’s hand up your skirt. Your head falls back against the stone as he sucks the sweet spot on your neck, his thumb rubbing perfect circles on your clit. You run your hands through his curls, they’re just as soft as you expected.

“James,” you moan.

“Yes love?”

You struggle to catch your breath. “I don’t- we can’t- fuck.”

“Hm?” He presses his thumb down harder; you feel your orgasm approaching. “You alright?”

“Yes- just don’t stop,” you reply.

He lifts his head, his dark eyes meeting yours. “Whatever you want.”

It’s safe to say, after that, phase two is completed.

~~~

Another week passes before you reach phase three. You don’t know why but playing James’s game is awfully fun. You know you’ve got him, and he knows he’s got you, but neither of you will say it. So, before anything can move too far in the closets, one of you stops it with an excuse and the other doesn’t question it. Part of you keeps it going because you want him to say the words, and another part of you keeps it going because deep down you don’t want it to be over yet.

But everything must end eventually.

The game's ending comes on a quiet Friday night. James catches you after dinner, dragging you off to one of the now familiar closets. He wastes no time, instantly pressing his lips to yours the second the door closes. There’s a desperation on his lips you haven’t felt before, it excites you. Naturally, you kiss him back, your hands moving up to his hair, his moving down to your waist.

Only a few seconds pass like this, then he pulls back. You can barely see his eyes through the darkness, but what you can see tells you something different is going to happen. He’s starving and you are more than happy to give him a taste.

“Can I have you y/n?” He whispers.

“Have me?”

He nods, his hands roaming up your sides. You shiver. “I need it, need you. Now.”

“You can have me, as long as you promise to keep this between us.” You place your hands on his shoulders and push him till his back hits one of the walls. “We wouldn’t want Sirius to be jealous that you actually got to shag me. You haven’t told any of them about this have you?”

“I have not, and I won’t. I swear,” he answers. “You can trust me.”

You smile and press a small kiss to his lips before lowering yourself to your knees. “I know I can. You’re a very sweet guy James and for that I’m going to show my appreciation.”

“You don’t have to-”

You begin to undo his belt. “I want to.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

You unzip his trousers and pull away the fabric. You’re not surprised to find him already hard. You also aren’t surprised at how big he is. From the girls you’ve known to have shagged him, only good things came from them. You don’t waste any more time. You take him in your mouth and as far down your throat as possible. Blow jobs have never been your favorite activity, but from the sound that leaves James’s lips you know you’ll enjoy this specific one.

And you do.

You don’t know how much time passes by the time he’s cumming down your throat, but you do know you’ve enjoyed every moment. He moans your name louder than he should, his fingers tangled in your hair as he cums. Typically, you’d spit but this time you swallow. When you’re sure he’s done you pull back and rise, whipping your drool with the back of your hand.

James is breathless when he reaches for you. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you, nor to return the favor. Your legs shake as he buries his face between them, licking and sucking your clit at a perfect rhythm. It’s not long before it’s your turn to come undone due to his mouth. You have to hold yourself up on the wall as you finish, you practically see stars.

You pull him back up a minute later and wrap your arms around his neck. He kisses you once again and you savor the taste of yourself on his lips. It’s like a prize. And a memory you will forever cherish.

“Fuck me James,” you whisper eventually. “Like you mean it.”

“Your wish is my command,” he replies.

His hands fall to your thighs, and he lifts you up. You comply, wrapping your legs around his waist as he positions his hard again cock at your entrance. He enters you slowly, both of you savoring the feeling. He stretches you in an indescribable way that makes your toes curl. You hold him tight as he begins to fuck you.

Due to his active role in quidditch, his stamina is very built. He fucks you through two more orgasms before he even begins to show a sign of finishing. Tears role down your cheeks from the overstimulation, he asks you if you want to stop. You shake your head. He continues. Each thrust hits that spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back into your head. When he does eventually finish, he fills you up, his dick pulsing inside you.

He holds you tight after, his face tucked in your neck.

“You’re amazing,” he mumbles, his breath ragged. “I think I’d like to keep you.”

In this moment, you forget about your plan, and you turn your head to press a soft kiss to his sweaty head.

“I wouldn’t mind that.”

~~~

As you lie in bed that night with your diary in hand, a fresh checkmark next to James’s name, you wonder how you’re supposed to go on to the next part. Too many emotions have gotten involved from you, James, and Sirius. You know adding another person into the mix will only cause further issues. However, you also did save the best for last. Intentionally. At least, you think so anyway. James and Sirius have given you times you didn’t know you could ever have.

But then your eyes trail over the last name again.

Remus Lupin.

The show must go on.

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Sixteen: Wishful Thinking

Chapter WC: 10,811

Chapter Tags/Warnings: minor blood/wound care, major grief/mourning themes

A/N: A lot going on in this one, but I couldn’t stand to break it into two chapters. This is one of the heaviest chapters so far, but also one of the sweetest. Hopefully that makes up for it somewhat!

And just getting it out now that I don’t plan on talking about Satine much in this fic, so please don’t set your hopes too high lol.

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Coruscant, 21 BBY

You’ve never met Duchess Satine Kryze, but she must be a beautiful and formidable woman to have such a hold on Obi-Wan after all these years.

He's always spoken of her with the utmost respect and detachment, but you can sense the truth that lies beneath. It doesn’t surprise you that he's the one who has been sent to Mandalore in the wake of the attack on a Republic cruiser by a Mandalorian saboteur, leaving you in command of the 212th.

It does, however, annoy you.

Though, not in the way you expect. In your youth, you were jealous of her, the thought of Obi-Wan being with another woman had caused an ugly, green-eyed monster to rear its head within you. As time has passed, and especially since your conversation in the gardens, that feeling has faded. Replaced by something else entirely.

Concern.

You've had a bad feeling about the situation on Mandalore ever since Obi-Wan told you about his assignment, and it's one that's been difficult to let go of. Obi-Wan is a good man, an excellent General, a brilliant tactician and negotiator. But as his history with the Duchess, and yourself, has proven, his ability to remain objective when it comes to the safety and welfare of those close to him is sorely lacking.

Your worry is compounded by the fact that the 212th is being called into action. A force of Separatist droids has sprouted up like weeds on Null, a short jump from Mandalore, and the Third Army is being sent to deal with them. As a Jedi, you can't ignore the call to arms, but as a friend, you're hesitant to leave Obi-Wan without the support of the 212th. You can only hope that he will have the clarity of mind to focus on the bigger picture, rather than the smaller, more personal details.

Not that you were unfamiliar with such distractions.

Null is a lush planet, filled with dense tropical forests and dramatic mountain ranges. It's also the home of one of Dooku's many retreats, an extravagant manor built into the side of a mountain, with a sprawling view of the valley and city below. A city that's now crawling with battle droids. An orbital bombardment is out of the question, and the Separatist defenses are proving difficult to penetrate.

So, instead of a quick, clean victory, it's going to be a messy, bloody slog.

You sigh and look down at the tactical display, your brow furrowed. You'd woken early this morning, arriving to the strategy room long before everyone else, and you've spent the past few hours pouring over the reports, trying to come up with a plan of attack. And a plan for how you can get inside the castle and deal with Dooku once and for all.

Yaddle's message is still fresh in your mind, her voice still ringing in your ears. Her words are still etched into your heart. You know what you have to do, and the temptation to do so is growing with each passing day. With each new casualty. With each loss.

But there's still the war to contend with, as well as the possibility of failure. If you attempt to go after Dooku and fail, if he gets the upper hand and kills you, the galaxy will lose a Jedi Master. And if you manage to kill him and survive, you will lose the moral high ground. The Order could brand you a murderer, and that would spell the end for your career, your life, and your friendships. There would be no going back.

No, it's not worth the risk.

At least, not yet.

You're so lost in thought that you don't hear the door slide open behind you, nor do you hear the footsteps approaching. It isn't until Rex clears his throat that you realize he's standing behind you.

You don’t startle, and it should surprise you, but it doesn’t. You're too used to Rex's presence by now, the warmth of his energy in the Force as familiar as the sun rising over Coruscant each morning, and the normal tension that comes with someone stepping into your space is absent. Instead, a sense of calm washes over you. 

Your shoulders relax, your heartbeat slows, and a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. You don't turn around, not yet. You continue staring at the hologram of the valley, letting the feeling settle in.

It's strange. You'd expected this closeness between the two of you to fade once you'd returned to Coruscant. But it hasn't. If anything, it's grown stronger, and it's no longer something that only occurs in the safety of an empty meadow or a darkened hallway, away from the prying eyes of the Jedi Council and the GAR. Now, it's everywhere. In every moment. No matter what the two of you are doing.

You've tried not to read too much into it, tried not to dwell on the implications. But deep down, you know the truth. Rex isn't just a distraction. He's something else, something more.

But you're not ready to admit that. Not yet.

But that doesn't mean that you're not happy to see him.

"Good morning, Rex," you greet him, a hint of amusement in your tone, and you move your fingers across the display, changing the angle of the hologram. "Come to save me from myself?"

"How did you know it was me?" he asks. His voice is low, his tone teasing. He's close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating from his body, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

"Don't tell me you were trying to sneak up on me," you tease, glancing over your shoulder and giving him a wry smile.

He huffs a laugh and shakes his head. "I haven't forgotten what happened the last time I tried."

You smirk, remembering the incident on Felucia. It feels like a lifetime ago that you were holding him at the end of your blade, your eyes locked on his. There's a glimmer of amusement in his eyes now, but the memory still stings. You can still see mark on his pauldron under the layers of blue paint, a reminder of your recklessness, your paranoia.

"Neither have I," you mutter, and then you turn back to the hologram, tilting your head and studying the display. "What brings you here so early?"

"I could ask you the same thing. I’m always the first one here," Rex says. He steps around to the side of the holotable, leaning against the edge. His head tilts as he regards you, his hands behind his back, and his eyes roam over your face, taking in every detail. "You look like you haven't slept."

"I've had a lot on my mind," you admit with a sigh.

A slight frown pulls at the corner of his mouth, his gaze flickering to the table between the two of you, before returning to yours.

"Anything I can help with?" he offers. "Or, are you just trying to show the rest of us up by coming up with the perfect plan before anyone else arrives?"

You chuckle and shake your head, the corner of your mouth turning upwards. "Nothing so dramatic, I'm afraid."

"I see," he replies, and a hint of disappointment flashes across his face, before vanishing. He nods at the holotable, and then, hesitates. "Do you...do you want to talk about it? Maybe it'll help. Clear your head."

You pause, considering his offer, and then, decide against it. You can't bring yourself to tell him about Yaddle, about what she said, not yet. Not when the wound is still so raw, so fresh. And while Rex is an exceptional listener, and you know he would offer his full support, you're not ready. Not for the conversation that will inevitably follow. 

So, instead, you give him a grateful smile and shake your head. "Thanks, but I'm okay."

"Alright," he concedes, though he looks unconvinced. 

You're grateful for it. You appreciate his understanding, his willingness to respect your boundaries. It's a relief, really. There's no awkwardness or discomfort. It's natural. Easy. And that's something you've rarely found outside the Jedi Order. Or inside it.

"Well, hopefully this helps, then." 

Rex moves his hand from behind his back and reveals a paper cup with a lid. Steam wafts from the opening, and you immediately recognize the scent of fresh caf. You perk up, your eyes widening.

"Is that...?"

"Freshly brewed?" he finishes as he sets it on the holotable in front of you. "Yep."

“For me?” you ask, even as you reach for it, wrapping your hands around the cup and reveling in the heat. You lift the cup to your nose and inhale deeply, the smell sending a shiver down your spine. “Really?”

Rex chuckles and shrugs, lifting up his own cup to his mouth. “Oh, well I was going to give it to Cody, but…”

Your jaw drops and your eyes widen, and he smirks before taking a sip, the teasing glint in his eyes telling you he's enjoying your reaction. You roll your eyes, and a soft laugh escapes your lips, your cheeks warming.

“But you like me more?” you challenge, and Rex snorts, nearly spilling his caf. He covers his mouth and swallows hard, shaking his head at you as you raise an eyebrow at him. "That's what you're going to say, right?"

"Yeah," he rasps, clearing his throat. He sets his cup on the table and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Sure. That."

"Good," you say, smiling sweetly at him. You raise your cup to him in a salute. "Because I like you more than Cody, too."

“I heard that.” 

You both straighten and turn as Cody strides into the room, a datapad in his hand, and the two of you exchange a sheepish look. You feel a flutter of nervousness in your stomach, and Rex lets out a breath, his shoulders slumping.

Cody raises his eyebrow as he walks around the holotable, glancing between the two of you. He looks like he's about to say something, but then shakes his head, his expression softening, and he turns to the display.

"What are we looking at?" he asks.

"A nest," Rex replies, his voice gruff, and he crosses his arms over his chest, any trace of amusement gone.

You're surprised at his sudden change in demeanor, and a part of you wants to laugh at the absurdity of it, but the other part, the one that's still slightly worried about being caught fraternizing, even if it's Cody, stops you. Instead, you nudge Rex with your elbow, giving him one last smile before you go over to stand beside the commander.

As you move, you take the first sip of your caf. You brace yourself for the bitter taste, but it doesn’t come. In fact, it tastes almost exactly like how you prefer to prepare it for yourself. You can’t help the noise of surprise that escapes you, and you eagerly take another sip.

Rex watches you from the corner of his eye, his mouth quirking into a half-smile, before turning back to the display.

Cody doesn't miss the exchange. His eyebrows raise, a curious look on his face, but he doesn't comment. Instead, he points to the map on the holotable.

"So, a nest, huh?" he asks. "And what kind of bird are we hunting?"

"A Krayt dragon," Rex says, and you snort, earning a glare from the captain. He huffs and continues, "A squadron of vulture droids, most likely from Count Dooku's estate, launched an attack on the nearby city and decimated the local forces. They're holed up in the surrounding mountains, and they're not giving up easily."

"Dooku's estate, you said," Cody repeats, and a thoughtful look crosses his face. "We'll have to deal with that later."

"Yes, we will," you mutter. He hums in return, and the three of you stand in silence, studying the display. The battle droids are well fortified, their numbers impressive, and you have a feeling that it's going to be a difficult fight.

You take another sip of your caf, savoring the rich flavor, and the caffeine courses through your veins, sending a jolt of energy through your body. It's enough to wake you up and sharpen your focus, and you can't help but smile. You look over at Rex and nod, mouthing a silent 'thank you'.

He ducks his head and turns away, but you can see the color rising in his cheeks, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He lifts his hand to his face, scratching the back of his head, and you have to stifle a laugh.

The doors slide open, and Anakin and the rest of the battalion's commanding officers file in, filling the room with a low murmur of voices. As they take their places around the holotable, Rex ends up next to you again. 

"You're welcome," he murmurs, his mouth barely moving. He doesn't look at you, keeping his eyes fixed on the map, but his arm brushes against yours, sending a shiver down your spine.

You hide your smile behind your cup, warmth blooming in your chest, and you take a moment to bask in the sensation before you shift, putting some distance between the two of you. The last thing you need is for someone else to notice the tension between the two of you, especially now that the room is full.

You're not ready to explain this...whatever it is, to anyone.

"Alright, everyone," Anakin calls, clapping his hands together. He steps forward and leans over the holotable, examining the map. "Let's get started."

The meeting passes quickly, and before long, the two of you are walking side by side through the corridors toward the hangar bay. The troops have already begun boarding the transport ships, and the hum of engines fills the air. Rex is at ease, his stride relaxed, his hands clasped behind his back. You, on the other hand, are anything but.

Your feet are dragging, a heaviness weighing on your shoulders that grows with every step. You're exhausted, and the thought of another battle, another confrontation, makes you want to curl up and sleep for days. The stress is beginning to wear on you, and the lack of a good night's sleep isn't helping. 

Still, there's a nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you that this is your chance. That this is the opportunity you've been waiting for. To finally confront Dooku.

"So," Rex begins slowly, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. "Is there any way I can convince you not to go on this mission?"

You huff a laugh, and you shake your head. "I wish."

"I had a feeling," he sighs, and his gaze returns to the corridor ahead. "You have that look on your face. Like you're ready to jump out of an airlock."

"Is it that obvious?"

"To me, yes," he tells you. He stops, turning to face you, and he rests his hand on your shoulder. He squeezes gently, and you find yourself leaning into it, savoring the contact. His thumb brushes against your collarbone as he leans forward, his gaze softening. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'll be fine," you assure him, and a half-smile tugs at your lips. "Don't worry about me."

"You say that," he chuckles, his tone rueful, and his grip on your shoulder tightens. His eyes search yours, and the humor fades. "But I do. And I know something's wrong."

"I..." You start, but stop, biting your lip. You take a deep breath and look away, your heart hammering in your chest. "I don't know what to tell you."

"You can tell me the truth," he says gently. He tilts his head, trying to catch your gaze. "What's going on? Are you...is it the nightmares?"

"It's not that," you sigh, and you rub the back of your neck, your eyes drifting towards the floor. 

You don't want to lie to him, not anymore, but you're not sure what to say. The truth is, it's more than just the nightmares. It's everything. The war, the Order, your past, your future. You've been struggling with it all, and it's getting harder and harder to keep it together. To maintain control. To hide your emotions. To ignore the growing desire for justice, vengeance, satisfaction. 

You let out a shaky breath and shake your head. "It's just...a lot."

"Yeah," he nods, his gaze dropping to the floor. He shifts his weight from foot to foot and then clears his throat. "Can I...is there anything I can do?"

"Not this time," you answer, a sad smile on your face. "But thank you."

"Alright," he sighs, resigned. Rex drops his hand and looks around, taking in the bustle of the hangar bay. His eyes linger on the transport ships, a distant look on his face. "You think we have a chance?"

"At taking out the vulture droids or taking out Dooku?" you ask, and his gaze returns to you. He offers you a wry grin.

"Either. Both."

You shrug. "I think we'll be fine. As long as we stick to the plan and work together, we should have no problem destroying the droids. As for Dooku..."

"Yeah, that's the hard part, isn't it?" he chuckles, and you nod, the corner of your mouth pulling into a small smile.

"It is," you agree. "But with a little luck, we might be able to capture him."

"Right," he says, rolling his eyes. "Luck."

"Well, we have to stay positive, don't we?" you tease, nudging his shoulder. He chuckles and shakes his head, and the two of you share a smile. It fades quickly, however, replaced by a somber expression.

He glances around, making sure no one's paying attention, before stepping closer. His gaze meets yours, and there's a seriousness in his eyes that wasn't there before. He opens his mouth, then closes it, hesitating, before trying again.

"What would you do if we did?" he asks quietly. "If we had him."

"I..." you start, but then trail off, considering the question. You don't have an answer. Not one you can speak aloud. There are so many conflicting emotions, so many feelings, swirling inside you, and it's hard to separate them. To pick out the right ones. The good ones. The ones that matter.

But underneath all of that, buried beneath the surface, is something else. A burning desire for revenge. For justice. And it's a desire that you're struggling to contain, to control. Every day, it grows stronger, demanding release, demanding action And every day, you deny it. Ignore it. Push it down. But it never goes away. Never disappears.

And it's becoming harder and harder to keep it in check.

Now, you're afraid that if you do catch Dooku, you won't be able to hold back. That you'll lash out and do something terrible, something unforgivable.

You've never admitted that to anyone, not even Obi-Wan. You know he's under the impression that you've released most of the darkest parts of yourself into the Force, but that's far from the truth. You can't help it. You're only human, after all. 

And like any other human, you're capable of horrible, terrible, things. You know that better than most.

 But Rex...he might understand. He's seen first-hand what Dooku is capable of, the pain he's caused. If anyone could understand, it would be him.

You look up at him, your eyes searching his, and he stares back, his expression solemn, his brow furrowed. He doesn't pressure you, doesn't push, just waits patiently, giving you time.

"I don't know," you finally answer, and the lie burns your tongue, the words coming out thick and heavy. You swallow hard and look away, unable to meet his gaze.

"You can tell me," he says softly. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah," you nod, forcing yourself to smile.

"Good," he murmurs. "That's good."

There's an awkward silence between the two of you, and you stare at the ground, unsure of what to say. You can sense his eyes on you, and the intensity makes your stomach twist. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and a chill runs down your spine. You cross your arms, rubbing your palms up and down your sleeves.

"Just..." 

You take a shaky breath and raise your head, meeting his gaze. His expression is gentle, kind, and it helps. It gives you the courage to continue.

"Just stay close to me, okay?" you whisper, your voice cracking slightly. You clear your throat and force a smile, and it hurts. Everything hurts. Your chest is tight, your throat dry. "Please."

Rex's frown deepens, and he opens his mouth to reply, but he's cut off by a voice echoing down the hallway.

"Rex! Where are you? We're ready to launch!"

He sighs and looks away, running a hand over his head. "I gotta go."

"I know," you tell him, swallowing past the lump your throat. You take a step forward and reach for him, resting your hand on his arm. "Be careful out there, okay? Don't do anything stupid."

He scoffs, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and he looks down at you. "Who, me?"

"Yes, you," you tease.

"I'm always careful," he retorts, and the two of you exchange a knowing look. You squeeze his arm and let go, stepping back, and his eyes linger on yours.

"Rex!" the voice calls again, more insistent.

"Go," you say. "Before Fives comes looking for you."

Rex smirks, and then gives you a nod. He turns and strides down the hall, and you watch him go, your heart aching, a strange feeling twisting in your gut.

You can't name it, can't put a word to it. It's not quite worry, not quite fear, not quite sadness. But it's all of those things, and more. A feeling of loss, maybe. Or regret. Or guilt.

Rex reaches the end of the corridor, and he turns, glancing back at you. You give him a small wave, forcing a smile, and his gaze lingers, his eyes searching yours. Then, he turns, and he's gone.

You stand there, rooted to the spot, staring after him.

Dread.

The feeling is dread.

Null, 21 BBY

An explosion rattles the ground beneath your feet, and you dive for cover, the deafening sound of blaster fire echoing around you. You roll behind a pile of rubble and lean against the stone, catching your breath. Across the dust-filled courtyard, Rex is hunkered down behind a broken statue, his blasters in his hands.

You lock eyes with him and he nods, holding up his hand, the signal to wait. You nod back and turn, peering around the edge of the stones, looking for an opening. The courtyard is crawling with battle droids, their laser fire tearing through the air, and it's impossible to tell where the droids end and the Republic troops begin.

A clone runs past, his armor streaked with blood, and a battle droid lunges out of the smoke, grabbing him. You reach out, calling upon the Force, and the droid flies through the air, slamming into a wall. The clone stares at you, and then nods, rushing back into the fray.

Another explosion rocks the courtyard, and the ground trembles, chunks of stone and dirt falling from the sky. You grit your teeth and push off the ground, leaping to the top of the rubble, your lightsabers igniting. A storm of bolts comes flying at you, and you deflect them, sending them back at the droids.

"General!"

You glance over your shoulder, and a squad of clones come running towards you, their weapons raised. They're led by Waxer, and they're covered in dust and dirt, but otherwise unharmed.

"Waxer, nice of you to finally join us," you shout, and the clones laugh, ducking behind the debris.

"Well, we couldn't leave our General hanging, now could we?" he retorts. He peers around the stones, scanning the courtyard, and then looks back at you. "Commander said you were having a rough time, thought we could give you a hand."

"How kind of him," you deadpan. You jump off the rocks, landing next to the clones, and you take a deep breath, letting the Force flow through you. Your skin tingles, and your muscles tense. The world around you slows to a standstill as your heart beats faster, pounding against your chest. You can see every detail, every movement, every particle.

"Any sign of Dooku?" Waxer asks.

You grit your teeth. The Force ripples around you, telling you what you already suspected from the moment you landed on Null. Dooku is gone, if he ever was here. Another lie. Another dead end. Another wasted opportunity.

"He's not here."

"You're sure?"

"Positive," you grunt, and everything comes rushing back. The sound, the smell, the taste of smoke and blood and sweat. It's overwhelming, but it's familiar, and your senses adjust quickly, settling back into their normal rhythm. "Looks like this is a vacation home, not a military base."

"Great," he sighs. He raises his blaster and fires, taking out a pair of battle droids before ducking back behind cover. "Well, at least the vultures are taken care of."

"That's one good thing, I guess." You crouch beside him, your brow furrowed, exhaustion tugging at your limbs. "Now, we just have to clean up this mess."

Rex darts across the courtyard, his blasters firing, and a stream of red light follows his movements. He slides to a stop beside you, and he leans against the rubble, his chest heaving. His helmet tilts towards you, looking at you over his shoulder.

"Good to see you, General," he pants.

"You, too," you reply, giving him a tired smile.

"Did we miss anything?"

"Not really," Waxer tells him. "We were just about to start mopping up."

The three of you look over at the troopers now pouring into the courtyard in a sea of blue and orange, their numbers quickly overwhelming the droids. It's a chaotic scene, with blaster bolts flying through the air and smoke filling the space, but the tide has clearly turned in the Republic's favor.

"Come on, then," you say, and you rise, stretching. Your muscles ache, and your knees protest, but you ignore them. "Let's get this done."

You turn and lead the way, jumping into the fray.  Within minutes, the last of the battle droids fall, their smoking corpses littering the ground. You stand in the middle of the carnage, surveying the damage. There are scorch marks everywhere, bodies strewn across the stones, pieces of broken droids scattered about.

It's a mess, but it could have been worse.

Much worse.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, centering yourself. You deactivate your lightsabers and tuck them into your belt, a weary smile on your face. It's over. Finally. You'd been fighting for hours, and you're ready to rest.

"Good work, everyone," you call out, raising your voice so it can be heard above the din. "I think we're done here."

There's a loud cheer, and the troops start gathering their gear, cleaning up the battlefield. Rex approaches you, and the two of you stand together, watching the men work.

Rex lets out a loud sigh, and he takes his helmet off, wiping the sweat from his brow. His blond hair is matted with dirt, and his face is covered in grime. He glances over at you, and his eyes crinkle with a tired smile.

"Well, that was a fun morning," he chuckles, and the clones in the near vicinity laugh at the quip. Waxer gives him a good-natured slap on the back as he walks by, and you snort, shaking your head.

"Glad you enjoyed yourself," you retort, and his smile widens.

He turns and gestures to the castle looming in the distance. "Do we still want to take a look around?"

"We might as well," you say, shrugging. "It's not like we're going to get a chance like this again."

Rex nods and pulls out his commlink, tapping a button. A voice crackles to life, and he begins issuing orders, the clones splitting off into teams and heading towards the estate. He watches them go, and then he looks over at you, nodding.

"Ready when you are."

You take a deep breath and begin walking, Rex falling into step beside you. The estate is sprawling, a series of towers and spires rising up from the valley floor. It's surrounded by a high stone wall, and you can see turrets peeking out from the battlements. You've never seen a more dreary, impenetrable fortress.

The main doors are open, and a squad is standing guard, their weapons raised. As you draw nearer to the entrance, a sense of anticipation settles over you, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. 

Your hand drifts towards your lightsaber, and your fingers tighten around the hilt. You can sense something, but you can't put your finger on it. An energy, an electricity, a presence, but it's faint, just out of reach. Something inside you wants to run, either away or toward, and you can't tell which.

You hear a grunt beside you, and you glance at Rex. His face is pinched, and for the first time you notice him limping, his left leg dragging a bit behind his right. Concern flares inside you, and you stop, turning towards him.

"You're hurt," you accuse, and his eyes widen, his jaw clenching.

"I'm fine," he insists, but his voice is strained, and the pain is clear in his eyes. You shake your head and grab his arm, pulling him to a stop. Whatever is behind those doors can wait.

"Rex, what's wrong?" you ask, and he sighs, his shoulders slumping.

"Just a little bruised," he admits. 

You arch an eyebrow, gesturing to his leg. "Really?"

"Yeah, really," he insists. "I'll be fine."

"Uh huh," you murmur. You step closer and lean forward into his space, looking into his eyes. He avoids your gaze, his cheeks reddening, and you narrow your eyes, sensing the truth. "Rex."

"What?" he grumbles.

"You should see a medic."

"I will," he promises, and his eyes dart over to the others, before returning to yours. "Later."

"Liar," you grin, and his lips twitch. You roll your eyes.

The two of you watch as the troopers file into the estate, disappearing from sight. When they're gone, he lets out a breath and looks at you, the tension in his body easing. You're grateful for the quiet, the stillness, the opportunity to collect yourself.

But it's also a relief to have him all to yourself, without the constant pressure of the others, the expectations and attention. And you can tell he feels the same.

"I am a liar," he admits sheepishly. He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck, a shy smile spreading across his face. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

"Maybe," you tease, and his grin widens, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Sit down. I'll take a look at it."

"You don't have to," he starts, but you shake your head, cutting him off.

"No arguing. Sit."

Rex grumbles but does as you say, letting you lead him over to the half-shattered fountain in the center of the courtyard, the water long gone. He lowers himself to the ground, hissing in pain, and you kneel beside him. Together, you remove the armor from his leg, setting it aside. The fabric of his bodysuit is torn, and underneath is a nasty-looking gash, a mixture of dirt and dried blood caking his skin.

You bite your lip, worry bubbling inside you. You've seen worse, much worse, but there's something about seeing him hurt that makes your heart clench. You know you're being irrational, that the injury isn't serious, and that the medics will be able to treat him. Still, it hurts. To see him in pain. To feel his pain.

"It's not that bad," he mutters. He's looking down at you, his brow furrowed, and he gives you a reassuring smile. "Honest."

"Uh huh," you say, unconvinced, and he huffs a laugh. You reach out, tentatively, your hand hovering over his leg. "This might sting."

"I can handle it," he tells you. You raise an eyebrow, and he gives you a crooked grin. "Probably."

You roll your eyes and move your hand closer, your fingers gently brushing the swollen skin. Rex sucks in a breath through his teeth, and you wince as you're hit with a jolt of his pain, sharp and sudden.

You breathe deep, steadying yourself, and then you press your hand fully against the wound, letting the Force flow through you into him.

You're far from adept in the healing arts, one of many weaknesses in your skill set, and you're no healer, but you can do this much. It's not a particularly complex injury. The tissue needs to be repaired, the pain reduced, and if you syphon some of your own energy, it's not as difficult as it seems. At least, that's what you tell yourself.

Still, it's not easy. The injury is larger than you thought, and the pain is intense. Rex tenses underneath your touch, his leg twitching, and you can hear his teeth grinding. His jaw is clenched so tightly, you fear his teeth might crack. You blindly reach up with your opposite hand and rest it on his knee, trying to steady him.

"Easy," you murmur. His hand settles on top of yours, your fingers intwining. You squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back, his thumb stroking your knuckles. "Almost done. Just breathe."

"Right," he says, his voice strained. He lets out a shaky breath and nods. "Keep going."

You let out a breath of your own, and you continue the work, draining your energy into him. After a few more moments, the wound is closed, the pain reduced, and you withdraw your hand, pulling back the fabric to examine the newly healed skin. It's a little pink and raw, but it'll do. He'll need proper medical attention, but for now, it'll keep him on his feet.

"There," you say, and Rex lets out a soft groan, the tension in his body fading. He looks down at the wound, and he turns his leg side to side, admiring your handiwork. "Good as new."

"Wow," he breathes. "That's...impressive."

"Yeah, I'm pretty great, aren't I?" you tease.

"Yeah," he nods. His hand is still holding yours, his fingers lightly tracing your knuckles. "You are."

The sincerity in his voice surprises you, and your cheeks warm, your heart skipping a beat. You swallow hard, and you give him a weak smile, trying not to read too much into his words.

"Thanks," you murmur. You let go of his hand and sit back, and he sighs, his eyes never leaving yours. You shift under his gaze, unsure of what to do, or say, and then, his expression changes, his head tilting.

"Why don't you do that more often?" he asks, and you frown, confused. He gestures to his leg. "Heal."

"Oh," you reply, just as a wave of exhaustion washes over you. You try to suppress a yawn and fail. "It's not something I like to advertise. I'd rather not burn myself out."

Rex raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to elaborate. You hesitate, biting your lip. It's not something you're proud of, and it's not something you talk about often, but for some reason, you feel compelled to share.

"I'm not particularly skilled in the healing arts," you admit. You look away, your brow furrowing. "Some can draw on the Living Force, use its power to heal others. I can't."

"But you did just now," he points out carefully.

"I did," you acknowledge, and a wry smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. You turn and meet his gaze. "But it took a lot out of me, and I don't mean that metaphorically. If I'm not careful, if I'm not prepared, it could kill me."

Rex's eyes widen, and a look of panic flashes across his face. His hands clench into fists, and he shakes his head, scowling.

"Don't ever do that," he orders, and you chuckle. "Seriously. Don't. Not for me."

"If I didn't, you would have been laid up in the infirmary for a week," you tell him, trying to sound casual, but your tone is anything but. Your words come out more harshly than intended, a bit more bitter. "Besides, I wanted to. You're worth it."

Rex stares at you, stunned, a flicker of something passing over his features. Surprise? Confusion? A hint of fear? You're not sure, but it makes your stomach twist, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of your gut. You swallow hard, resisting the urge to look away.

"You shouldn't have," he tells you, shaking his head. "You could have-"

"But I didn't," you interrupt, and he sighs, the corners of his mouth turning down. You stand and brush the dirt and debris from your robes, clearing your throat. "And if you ever tell anyone I did that, I'll deny it. Got it?"

Rex snorts, the scowl vanishing, and slowly rises to his feet, testing his weight on his injured leg. He stretches and rolls his shoulders, his neck cracking, and then he nods. "Got it."

"Good," you huff. 

You watch as he reattaches his armor, your arms crossed over your chest. He seems to have forgotten about the estate, about the mission, his mind on other things. His expression is thoughtful, his eyes distant, and you can't help but wonder what he's thinking. What he's feeling. Whether or not he's upset with you. With himself.

You know you've worried him, that he's afraid of what might have happened, but you don't regret it. Not one bit. He needed your help, and you gave it. It's as simple as that. Besides, you're a Jedi, aren't you? Isn't this what the Order teaches? That compassion and generosity are the most important aspects of your duty, your life?

Still, there's a nagging voice in the back of your head, a voice telling you that what you did was selfish. That you did it for yourself, not for him. That you did it because you care about him, because you can't stand the thought of him being hurt.

And, the truth is, it is. It is selfish, it is reckless. 

You're not a healer, not really. You don't know how to channel the Living Force, how to heal the wounded, or cure the sick. You only know how to take, how to absorb the pain and suffering of others and give something of yourself in return, and you've never done more than a handful of healing sessions in your life. You're a warrior, not a physician. 

And yet, here you are, playing medic, because it's Rex. Because you can't help yourself.

Rex finishes buckling his armor and looks at you, his expression unreadable. You meet his gaze, and a moment passes between the two of you. An understanding. A realization. Something is changing, something fundamental, and neither of you knows what to do about it. But you don't need to. Not yet.

"Listen," he starts, his voice soft. "I—"

"Sir!"

The two of you flinch, startled, and you turn towards the source of the voice, your hand drifting towards your lightsaber. Fives and Echo are jogging across the courtyard, their blasters raised. You relax, and Rex lets out a sigh, running a hand over his head.

"Yes?" he calls.

"General," Fives pants, and he skids to a stop, his helmet under his arm. "Sorry to interrupt, but we found something."

"What is it?" Rex asks, frowning. 

Fives glances at you, and a grim expression settles on his face. He shifts from foot to foot, his eyes darting between the two of you.

"It's...just come see."

Rex nods, and he gestures for Fives to lead the way. The trooper hurries off, and you follow, Rex at your side. The four of you weave through the rubble toward the castle, Fives and Echo in the lead, Rex and you a few steps behind. You feel a chill creep up your spine, a sense of unease filling you, and your hand rests on your lightsaber, your thumb brushing against the hilt.

As the doors loom overhead, Rex looks over his shoulder and meets your gaze. You shake your head, a silent warning, and he nods, his expression hardening.

Whatever it is, it's not good.

You pass through the archway and into the darkened hall. The interior is massive, a high vaulted ceiling overhead, with ornate columns rising from the floor to the roof. The walls are lined with marble, and the floor is polished black stone. There are statues lining the walls, and they look like they were once pristine, but now they're covered in soot, and chunks of the ceiling have fallen, smashing the art. The place smells like smoke and death.

"This way," Echo says, gesturing to the left. The group turns and heads down the hallway, your footsteps echoing around you.

As you move deeper into the castle, the air becomes thicker, the smell of smoke and dust growing stronger. The hallways narrow, and the walls become rougher, the marble replaced by stone. Torches flicker along the walls, casting eerie shadows across the floor.

Your uneasiness only compounds the further you walk, and a knot forms in the pit of your stomach, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. You're starting to feel sick, the sensation only growing stronger with each step.

You glance over at Rex to find him already watching you, his brow furrowed. He slows, letting the others get a few paces ahead, and he leans towards you, his voice low.

"What is it?" he asks. "Do you sense something?"

"I do," you whisper. You rub your temples, your eyes drifting closed. "But I can't put my finger on it. It's..."

"What?" he prompts.

"Dark," you say. "Very dark."

"Shit," he breathes. His hand reaches out, hovering near your shoulder, as if he wants to comfort you, but he hesitates. "Do you want to go back?"

"No," you murmur. You take a deep breath and open your eyes, meeting his concerned gaze. "I'll be fine."

"Alright," he says, though the worry remains in his eyes. He steps back, putting a little distance between the two of you, and he nods towards the others. "Let's catch up."

You nod, and the two of you resume walking, following the clones through the gloom. The air is getting colder, the scent of smoke growing stronger, and you can hear a low hissing sound, like gas escaping from a broken pipe. You grit your teeth, doing your best to ignore it. Whatever it is, whatever is making you feel so ill, it's coming from up ahead.

After what feels like an eternity, the four of you come to a stop outside a massive wooden door, and Fives looks back at Rex, gesturing towards the handle. The captain nods, and the trooper takes a deep breath, reaching for the knob.

"Ready?" he asks.

"No," you answer, and the three of them chuckle, the sound echoing around you.

Fives nods and pulls the door open, and a wave of cold air rushes out, blowing through your hair and making the torches flicker. You shiver, goosebumps rising on your skin, and a lump forms in your throat.

There's a long, winding staircase leading down into the darkness. The walls are covered in soot, and the stones are slick with ice. The air is frigid, and your breath mists in front of your face. You can hear the sound of dripping water, and the scent of dampness and decay fills the air.

"I don't like this," Fives mutters, and Echo grunts in agreement.

Rex looks over at you, and a wry grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. "What do you think, General?"

"It's creepy as hell," you deadpan.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he chuckles, and he steps forward, placing his foot on the first step. "Come on, then. Let's get this over with."

You follow him into the stairwell, and the rest of the squad falls in line behind you, the four of you descending into the darkness. The light from the torches quickly fades, and the only sound is the scrape of your boots against the ice-covered stone, and the occasional drip of water.

The further you go, the worse the feeling gets, and the air grows colder, the smell of rotting wood and mold invading your nose. You feel like you can't breathe, like there's a hand gripping your throat, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

"You sure you're alright?" Rex asks quietly. He doesn't turn to look at you, keeping his gaze fixed on the steps, his fingers gripping the railing.

"No," you murmur, and he frowns, glancing at you over his shoulder.

"Do you want to go back?" he asks.

"Not unless you do," you reply. "It's just..."

"Yeah," he agrees, nodding.

The stairs eventually level out, and the path opens into a cavernous chamber, the ceiling soaring high above your head. The walls are covered in stalactites, and the ground is slick with ice. You can't see beyond your hand, and you stumble forward, your foot sliding out from under you.

"Easy," Rex murmurs, grabbing your arm, steadying you.

"Thanks," you grunt, and you let out a shaky breath, trying to get your bearings. You draw your sabers, the yellow blades illuminating the room, and you hear the sound of the others' flashlights flicking on, the beams of light dancing around the space.

"What the hell is this place?" Fives asks. His voice is hushed, but it echoes around you, the silence deafening.

"I don't know," Rex whispers. He lets go of your arm and walks forward, his eyes scanning the room. You stay close, not wanting to lose him in the darkness. "It looks like some sort of dungeon, or..."

"A tomb," you finish, and he looks back at you, his brow furrowing.

"Yeah," he agrees. "It does."

You step forward, your gaze sweeping the area. The ceiling is high, the walls covered in icicles. The ground is smooth, with a layer of ice coating it, and you can see a path leading deeper into the cavern. You feel a tug, a pull, and your pulse quickens.

"Rex," you murmur.

"Yeah," he says. He follows your gaze, and he sighs, his expression grim. "I know."

You nod and begin moving forward, the others falling in line behind you. Your footsteps are muffled by the ice, and the air grows colder, a chill settling over the room. The light from your sabers doesn't seem to reach the walls, and the darkness presses in on you, like a living, breathing thing.

"General," Echo says, his voice low. "You don't think this is a trap, do you?"

"I don't know." You shrug, and the three clones let out a chorus of sighs. You turn and look back at them, arching an eyebrow. "If it is, it's not a very good one."

"True," Fives agrees. "Maybe Dooku isn't as smart as we thought."

"Or, maybe he's playing a different game," Rex says, his tone grim. He glances at you, his eyes lingering on yours. "Just...be ready."

"Always," you assure him.

You continue through the cave, the air growing colder, the ice thickening beneath your feet. The path twists and turns, and the ceiling lowers, until you have to duck to avoid the icicles hanging above.

Finally, the path opens into another large chamber, and you come to a stop, taking in the sight before you. The ground is littered with debris, chunks of stone and rubble scattered around the space. A row of unlit torches lines the walls, and you can see a series of steps leading down into the center of the room, the ground cracked and broken.

And there, in the middle of the chaos, is a pedestal.

You frown, stepping forward. There's something on top of the pedestal, but it's too far away to see clearly. You reach the edge of the broken ground, and you stop, peering down.

"What is that?" you murmur.

Rex comes up beside you, his brow furrowed. "Looks like a...box."

Your blood runs cold, and you turn, your hand twisting. The torches ignite, filling the room with light, and you see the box, the ornate wood gleaming in the torchlight. Its surface is scorched and dented, and it's covered in ash, but there's no mistaking it.

"Get out," you say, your voice hoarse.

"What?" Fives asks. "But we—"

"Get out!" you shout, and they flinch, stumbling backwards. "Now!"

Rex hesitates, his eyes darting from the box to your face, and you stare at him, your hands clenched into fists, the blood roaring in your ears. After a moment, he nods, and he raises his hand, signaling the others to fall back.

"Yes, sir," Fives murmurs, and he turns and begins marching back the way you came. Echo gives you a long look, his eyes lingering on yours, and then he, too, retreats. Rex doesn't move, and you turn, glaring at him.

"Go," you order.

"You told me to stay close to you, remember?" he retorts, and his voice is laced with anger, his jaw clenched. "Well, I am. And I'm not leaving."

You sigh, a headache building behind your eyes, and you shake your head. "Rex, I—"

"No," he growls. "Don't. Don't push me away."

"It's not—"

"You're not going through this alone."

"But—"

"I don't care."

His voice echoes around the chamber, and you swallow hard, the air rushing from your lungs. You stare at him, at his unwavering determination, his absolute refusal to back down, and a part of you wants to push him, wants to shove him away and send him back to the others. He's disobeying your orders, he's questioning your authority, and you should be angry. You should be furious.

But instead, you feel relieved.

You turn back towards the pedestal, the box gleaming in the flickering light, and a cold weight settles in the pit of your stomach.

"Alright," you sigh, deactivating your sabers and shoving them into their holsters. "Fine."

Rex's expression softens, and he reaches for you, his hand settling on your shoulder. You lean into him, his warmth comforting, and he squeezes gently.

"Thank you," he murmurs.

You nod, and the two of you begin the descent, slowly making your way down the broken path. The ground is slick with ice, and your feet slide a few times, Rex's grip on your shoulder tightening to keep you from falling. You finally reach the bottom, and you approach the pedestal, a lump forming in your throat.

You stand over the box, and you run your fingers along the surface. It's warm, and there's a faint vibration, the Force humming with energy.

"What is it?" Rex asks, his voice quiet.

"It's..." You trail off, and you swallow hard. "It's what I found when I went out that night."

He frowns, and then recognition dawns on his face, and his eyes widen. "You mean when you were attacked?"

"Yes," you whisper.

Rex is silent, and you stare at the box, a wave of emotion welling up inside you. Anger, sadness, grief. They mix together, churning in your stomach, and you clench your fists, the nails digging into your palms. You can feel the darkness swirling around you, a miasma of pain and fury, and it threatens to drown you. But you can't look away, can't turn your back.

"Are you sure?" he murmurs.

"Yes," you repeat, and the word comes out thick, the tears burning hot. "I'm sure."

"Then, it's him," Rex whispers, his voice laced with sympathy. He steps closer, his hand settling on your back, his thumb rubbing slow circles between your shoulder blades. "Isn't it?"

"It is."

You reach out and place your hand on the lid, and the wood is smooth and cool under your fingertips. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself, and then, with a single, smooth motion, you lift the lid. The hinges creak, the sound echoing around the chamber, and a cloud of dust swirls in the air.

The inside of the box is lined with a velvet material, the fabric faded and worn. The scrap of her robe is still there, along with the datapad, but that isn't what makes your heart seize in your chest. 

It's the lightsaber.

You recognize it immediately, the sleek, silver hilt a stark contrast against the crimson fabric. It's the same design, the same length, the same width. You've seen it a hundred times, a thousand, more than you can count. But the last time you saw it, it was in her hands, a blaze of green light. Now, it sits, cold and lifeless, and the ache inside you only grows.

And when you reach out, your fingers brushing the blade, the hum that vibrates up your arm is unmistakable. The same hum, the same vibration, the same power. Her power.

"Is that..." Rex breathes, his eyes wide.

"Yes," you choke out, the tears spilling over.

You can feel his presence behind you, his energy warm and steady. But even his strength can't shield you from the anguish that bubbles up inside you, a deep, primal wound reopening. It's a wound you've spent the past ten years ignoring, pushing aside, burying deep, but now it's tearing you apart, the pain consuming you.

Your hand encloses around the hilt, pulling it to your chest. The metal is cold, and you can feel the steady, rhythmic pulse of the kyber crystal inside, a faint echo of her Force signature. It's been so long since you've felt her presence. Since you've been able to sense her power, her wisdom, her kindness.

It's like a knife to the heart, the wound reopened, bleeding anew.

Rex's hand grips your shoulder, a comforting weight, but the sorrow is a tidal wave, drowning you. It's all too much. The memories, the guilt, the regret. They crash over you, threatening to drag you under, and a sob tears from your lips. You're falling, the darkness consuming you, the void swallowing you whole. You're spiraling out of control, the pain overwhelming, and you can't stop it, can't hold it back. All you can do is cling to the hilt, to her weapon, and hope she can forgive you.

But as you fall to your knees, Rex is there. His arms wrap around you before you can hit the ground, a cry ripping from your throat, and the two of you sink down together, your head pressed against his shoulder.

You bury your face in his neck, the tears flowing freely, your body trembling. His hand finds yours, the one holding her lightsaber, and he entwines his fingers with yours, his other arm tightening around your waist. He's whispering something, his voice soft and soothing, but you can't make out the words, can't focus on anything but the pain. And as Rex holds you, your face pressed against his neck, you let go.

You let the emotions wash over you, the grief and the agony and the remorse. You let the darkness consume you, and you let yourself feel the pain. Because this is what she would have wanted. This is what she would have told you.

To let go. To release the past. To find peace.

So, that's what you do. For the first time in ten years, you let yourself mourn.

You mourn the loss of her, the emptiness in your life, the absence of her guidance, her friendship. You mourn the future that could have been, the bond the two of you shared. The connection that was severed, the wound that will never heal.

It's the most painful thing you've ever experienced, and the agony is a physical thing, clawing at your chest, tearing through your heart. It's the most intense emotion you've ever felt, and it's excruciating, but you don't pull away. You don't hide from it. Instead, you cling to Rex, his arms a steady, reassuring weight around you, and you let yourself feel it. All of it.

"I'm sorry," you gasp, your voice muffled against his armor. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," he murmurs, his voice strained, and his fingers tangle in your hair, holding you tighter against him. "It's not your fault."

"I couldn't...I wasn't...I tried to..." You can't get the words out, can't form a coherent sentence, and your head throbs, the pain blinding. "I couldn't save her."

"You did everything you could," he says. "You didn't fail her. You didn't fail anyone."

You want to believe him, to let his words soothe the ache, but the sorrow is overwhelming, the guilt crushing. And, even as you cry, a part of you feels guilty for showing him this side of you. For letting him see the weakness, the vulnerability. But the truth is, you've been weak for a long time, and he's been there every step of the way.

He's seen your worst, and yet, he's stayed.

"I miss her," you sob, the tears burning hot. "I just..."

"I know," he breathes. His cheek presses against the top of your head, his fingers stroking your hair. "I'm so sorry."

You don't know how long you sit there in the icy cavern, Rex's arms wrapped around you. You cry until there are no tears left, until the sobs turn to hiccups, and the hiccups turn to shuddering breaths. And all the while, Rex is there, his grip never loosening, his voice never wavering.

When the last of the tears have dried, you slump against him. Your body feels heavy, drained, and the lightsaber is a dead weight in your hand, the cold metal leeching what little warmth you have left.

You lift your head, and Rex's gaze meets yours. You're surprised to see his eyes are wet too, his lashes clumped together. His nostrils flare, and he lets out a shaky breath, trying to keep his composure. He gives you a weak smile, and you swallow hard, the words getting stuck in your throat.

"Thank you," you finally manage, and the words come out thick, the tears welling again. "I...I don't know what to say. I didn't expect—"

"Hey," he murmurs as his thumbs wipe away the tears, his touch gentle. "You don't have to say anything. I understand."

You nod, and he pulls you against him, his head resting on top of yours. The two of you fall into another silence, your arms wrapped around each other, the lightsaber clasped tightly in your fist.

Eventually, the sound of footsteps fills the cavern, and you hear the others calling out, their voices echoing around you. Rex pulls away, and he looks over his shoulder, watching as the troopers approach. His body shields you from view, protecting your privacy, and a wave of gratitude washes over you.

"Not yet," he says, his voice stern, and the footsteps stop, hesitating. "We need a few minutes."

"General," Fives calls. "Are you alright?"

"She's fine," Rex answers for you.

"Are you sure? We heard crying."

"She's fine," he repeats, his voice hardening. "Just...give us a minute."

You close your eyes, exhaustion tugging at your limbs, and you rest your head on Rex's shoulder, letting the sounds of his voice soothe you. The others are talking, whispering amongst themselves, but you can't make out the words. You're not sure you want to.

You don't know how long the two of you sit there, but eventually, the voices grow quiet, and you hear the troopers walking away, their footsteps fading into the distance. When they're gone, you open your eyes and stare at the ground, the tears drying on your cheeks.

"You didn't tell them," you say, your voice quiet.

"No," he admits. "I didn't."

"Why?"

"Because," he murmurs. He turns, his hand reaching up, his fingers tilting your chin towards him. Your gazes meet, his eyes soft, and he brushes a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. "You deserved a moment alone to grieve. Without the others staring."

You nod, and a weak smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, the tears welling once more. He cares so much, cares more than he should, and it warms your heart despite the cold surrounding you.

"Thank you," you whisper, and the words come out strained, your voice cracking.

"It's the least I can do," he replies. Rex lets go of your chin, his hand falling back to his side. "I wish I could do more."

"You're already doing more than enough," you tell him, and you mean it. If not for him, you would have lost yourself completely. The thought terrifies you, but also warms you. He's saved you, time and time again, without even realizing it. "I couldn't have done this without you."

"You could have," he says, his expression earnest. "But I'm glad you didn't have to."

"Me, too," you murmur.

The two of you stay there for a long moment, wrapped in each other's arms, the only sound the faint drip of water. The air is frigid, the chill seeping into your bones, and you shiver, goosebumps rising on your skin.

"Come on," Rex says. He gives your shoulder a squeeze, his hand trailing down your arm and coming to a rest on your elbow. "Let's get out of here."

"Yeah," you agree, and you let him help you to your feet, your legs shaking. You brush the dirt and grime from your clothes, and then look down at the box, your mouth pulling into a grimace.

"I can't believe he kept it," you mutter, placing the lightsaber back inside, the scrap of fabric on top of it. The lid falls shut, a loud thump echoing around the chamber.

"I'm not surprised," Rex replies, his tone laced with bitterness. He shakes his head, a scowl on his face.  "He likes his trophies."

"He's sick," you mutter. The rage is starting to burn inside you again, the pain giving way to anger, a familiar, comforting emotion. "Do you think this was his plan all along? To lure me here?"

"Maybe," he admits, his eyes sweeping the area, his expression hardening. "But that doesn't matter now. What matters is that you have your evidence. You can finally get justice."

"Justice," you repeat. The word tastes like ash in your mouth. You shake your head, your lips pulling into a thin line. "All I want is revenge."

"Revenge won't bring her back," Rex murmurs. His hand rests on your lower back, his warmth seeping through the fabric. "You need to be smarter than that. We can't—"

"I know," you interrupt. "I know we can't."

"If it was up to me..." He trails off, his jaw clenched, his fingers flexing against your spine.

"Yeah," you sigh. You reach out and pick up the box, the weight of it heavy in your arms. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, and then glance up at him, a wry smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. "Wishful thinking, right?"

"Wishful thinking," he echoes, and the two of you share a chuckle, the tension in the air easing. 

Rex looks at you, a softness in his gaze, and a strange feeling passes between the two of you, the understanding, the acceptance. This war is not about justice, it's not about peace. It's about survival, and the two of you have to fight tooth and nail just to stay alive. But the fact that he's fighting with you, the fact that he's by your side, means everything.

"Come on," he says, and he gently guides you towards the path, his hand lingering on your back.

You nod, and the two of you begin walking, your footsteps echoing around the chamber. You follow the path, Rex's presence steady at your side, and the darkness recedes, the torchlight growing brighter. You can feel the weight of the box in your arms, the pulse of the kyber crystal, the whisper of her Force signature.

Yaddle.

Your Master. Your family.

Gone.

And the one responsible, just out of reach.

But if you can make the Council listen, maybe, just maybe, you can find a way to bring him to justice.

Or maybe it's just wishful thinking.

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@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @mrcaptainrex @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay

@callsign-denmark @julli-bee @moonychicky @captn-trex @feral-ferrule

@webslinger-holland @marchingviolist @cw80831 @chaicilatte @somewhere-on-kamino

@silly-starfish @veralii @chubbyhedgehog @lordofthenerds97 @meshlajetii

@heaven1207 @808tsuika @aanncummings @lugiastark @maniacalbooper

@sensitive-shark @kashasenpai @kkdrawsdecently @isaidonyourknees

[sailorblossoms-rankane]

finished re-reading the jewel arc & I have thoughts...

The plot is about Ranma making Shampoo "say she loves him," yet the climax says his heart is unwaveringly Akane's. Ahampoo shows interest? He pulls away. Akane's "interest" is way more intense, yet he pulls closer

Notably, all the fiancées tell Ranma they love him in this arc, but only Akane's declaration gets to him. It reminds him that love is supposed to be something you feel and not a mindless challenge to win

These two panels being only a couple of pages apart really spell things out. Look at Ranma being put off by just a "hot stare" vs instantly leaning in and ~staring~ at Akane after an intense love confession. Atrociously down bad.

Similar to Tsubasa calling him ugly, Shampoo's rejection is framed as an attack, not just on his ego, but on his self-worth (this time also tied to public judgment). He reacts to both as if it were a challenge, his fighting aura visible... but the differences are interesting

The challenge against Tsubasa is clearly about looks, but with Shampoo at its core is more about likability. She doesn't attack his looks, she says he's a scum (and so should be hated). Even if he's like "am I no longer irresistible?" he's focusing on love, not attraction

When he's looking for validation with Ukyo, he doesn't ask "am I attractive to you?" (which is what you would associate with "being irresistible") but "do you love me?" (am I the type of guy girls fall in love with? ... that's what he connects with "irresistible")

Much to say about Ranma being emotionally stunted but this is the kind of stuff showing that at his core, he's a soft, romantic guy, jerk-ness notwithstanding. Classmates might say it's about desire (because THEY're horny lol) but he never goes there. Freaks out at the suggestion even

You can see the contrast with the classmates from the beginning (horny talk) while Ranma is focused on Akane's smile... his fantasies with girls are always something romantic with Akane, and it's hundreds of chapters before his interest in seeing Akane naked is brought up.

Ranma's personal space is invaded with frequency, which affects him, but all interest for him is tied to romance. There's a certain distance in challenges and playing characters, but I don't think he's comfortable with being desired from up close... unless he's in love (Akane)

And even then it's difficult for him. You can see how much he's about romance when he does not react at all to Shampoo's bridal fit (the cutest she has ever looked mind you... and yet) and with Akane just the sigh gets a big reaction

I think it makes sense to be a soft romantic at heart and struggle with being disliked. Wanting space from someone who annoys you doesn't mean you want/can take actual hostility from them. Being "dumped" is also a form of "losing" and Ranma must win absolutely everything.

Every step of the way he frames this as a challenge, a matter of reputation, armor, strategy, etc... without ever processing there are real, actual feelings at play (love is a battle, a simple challenge, instead of.... you know, love... he's not associating any of it with feelings! ... until Akane "confesses"). Other characters misjudge him for the bit, but Kasumi/Nabiki as a duo usually get it right

Akane can get angry because of misunderstandings/insecurities, but sometimes she's angry because she's being more perceptive and mature than Ranma and simply sees he's being an insensitive dumbass. (Ranma telling her not to be jealous also indicates he's not processing/seeing this as wanting someone else)

Sidenotes: it hits me that Shampoo is really a cat lol only truly dangerous when she feels (emotionally) cornered but otherwise she's just fucking around. “She hates me fr” says the melodramatic guy whose examples of "cold" and "hatred" are juvenile annoyance

Shampoo's abilities are plot devices more than anything else. If you take it seriously the speed with which Ranma defeats her is frankly disrespectful lol only the boys get Serious Fights. The tone with the female fighters is just different, no point in fixating on abilities or the like with them

(says something interesting about sexism in-world though. Cologne ya girl is getting washed, stand up! alas, she's only interested in future husband as she's ensured Shampoo's survival in her village. Could speculate the same happens to Akane, where she's trained just enough to be able to defend herself in her peaceful world, but then is left alone as the future of the dojo is expected to fall in the hands of a strong husband) (Mostly is the shonen of it all, as we're expected to believe none of the female martial artists have a sustained interest in improving/becoming stronger like the boys have. I suspend my belief here because there's still plenty to like about these characters, how the female fighters can be used, and because it's funny. What can I say. A bitch is being entertained)

[astrologicalsstuff]

Some more

Astrology observations

Scorpio risings causing drama without even meaning to

Capricorns are the hottest placement sun and rising

Everyone says it’s probably Leo or libra or Taurus but Capricorns have this I’m hot and it doesn’t matter energy. Like those placements know they’re hot. They got the bone structure and legs

Everyone thinks it’s Scorpio but I would NOT WANT TO MAKE AN AQUARIUS ANGRY. These people can be calculated and smart. They don’t feel in the same way other people do typically so they can really whip out some unwarranted shit.

Aries moons going 0 to 100 in half a second.

Virgo aries combos especially Virgo sun aries moon or Virgo rising aries… acting first thinking later and regretting everything:((( these can be some very… stimulated people.

Cancer Leo Taurus in the big three loyal and selfless with a dash of manipulation

Leo Venus will like you and still make you chase for a year you’d better be ready to chase!

Venus in the second know their self worth.

Mercury in Pisces/Sagittarius or in the 9th or 12th house how’s that ADD/ADHD??

Cancer stellium/ Virgo stellium with those stomach problems.

Where your 6th house ruler sits is how your health shows up. 6th house ruler in the third might need glasses or have hand problems. 6th ruler in the 12th might have mental health problems. 6th ruler in the 5th watch your heart.

Aquarius moons are so chill if your not tryna have a relationship with them and humble too. Like they won’t start shit.

Neptune in fire houses (1 5 & 9) have the reputation of being mysterious but isn’t as mysterious as everyone thinks, they don’t really know themselves either lol.

Further, neptune in the first just doesn’t see themselves the way you see them

Neptune in the 5th probably have identity issues, people like them better on drugs. Struggle to see themselves the way others see them causing misinterpretations

Neptune in the 9th people don’t see the spirits on your side lol. Maybe people don’t see that you can see through them

Saturns not all bad, in houses where you must acquire (earth houses 2 6 10)

Moon in the ascendant will have children especially with planets in the 5th.

Capricorn or Saturn in the 5th may have a hard time conceiving or having children

Uranus in the 5th… just make sure you wrap it cause get ready for those unexpected pregnancies. Also what’s up with those one night stands??

Neptune in the 11th most likely means friends at a distance or friendships where you do a lot of drugs and alcohol. Friends Can be artists as well. Best case I think these people are celebrities and connect with masses online.

Mars in Leo are HORNY and loud about it

Pluto in the third can cut people with their words

Moon in the 10th makes people comfortable around you yet a distance between you and other people?

Neptune in the 10th where’s your dad lol?

12th house ruler in the 10th everyone talks about you behind your back so much gossip

Virgo men lowk like it when you call them out🫢🫢

Pisces moons can’t stop lying huh? Like you don’t even know why your doing it

Virgo rising s are so hot. Like subtle beauty look good without makeup.

Virgo sun women’s personality is basically just whatever copies and compliments their best friend…

Fire sign moons are soo DRAMATIC

Moon in first = heart in sleeve

Thanks for reading let me know what you think please don’t copy my information!

[austinsastrology8991]

> Saturn ASPECTS < and why you ain't getting the respect you deserve Saturn puts you in shitty cycles/ patterns to make you; by breaking you > and when you inevitably return to these struggles, you'll realise you've mastered his circuits

yes i had break, im back now. so get over it.

Saturn aspecting Sun - loosen up. but everytime you do, something else fucks up. so now your the most rigid person. its hard to have a good time with yall, because you take things so seriously, but damn do you exceed when shit needs to be taken seriously - because your so careful in your movements 🚶‍♂️. they tend to have a habit of stating the obvious then smirking about it, which is so confusing because like we all knew that, but why you acting like you did something? this type of shit is why people struggle to chill around you, but ill ask for your advice about real shit because your obsessed with being an authority and like thats the only way to approach you guys without getting iced by you Saturn aspecting Moon - Stop crying. oh wait i meant to say; start crying. jesus you got some fucked up villainous back story but your stone walling everyone because it hurts too much to even open up to anyone. because i mean whats the point? if everyone is just going to tell you "its going to be okay" when you never feel okay. feels bad man, and you know better than most how bad feels.. man.. so i guess saturn wants you to accept how cruel the world is, and how that affects everyone, so you are more prepared for bad circumstances then most. hardly a positive spin, ik.. but its to prepare you for your future. and you have no idea why you must go through so much pain - but there is a reason, and it will become clear later, so better utilize that energy to your benefit; because its just another one of saturns bitch cycles

Saturn aspecting Mercury - when you speak, people try there best to one up you, but your a master at it by now > passive aggressive, or authoritative - who gives a fuck if you belittle the other person, because i mean if your right, then you right. so better off writing it into reality, rather than watch everyone clown around with the wrong answers. but speaking ths way to others, really does make it hard to talk to you, even if you right, your just a fkn asshole. so honestyl. stop trying to figure out the right answer, and think about whats the right thing to say. stop pretending to be an authoritative speaker if no one even wanna listen to you, and start owning what you say more. Saturn aspecting Venus - joecly flores on repeat. okay i get it. you dont believe in love, because you see it how it is. well. its not actually how it is. youve ruined all your chances of anyone ever gonna love you because you think being all cold and mysterious is attractive (and it can be) but i mean who tf wanna love someone like that. its like riding a bike uphill. i mean i dont wanna do that. like these people are always attractive, but their attitude is so hard to ignore, its like trynna make a spider smile. thats why people reject you more than anythng else. and Ik that your just trying to find the real ones, but guess what, everyone that ever talked to you/ flirted with you, liked you.... oh thats too shallow or optimistic? my bad Saturn aspecting Mars - I never do anythng right ;(((((( well you actually do a lot right, but your always doing too much. your so obssessed with perfection and being a high achever that you've forgotten everything you've achieved becayse your so focused on the next one. if you just reflected on how much you work; in comparison to most, youd realize you are big achiever, and you dont understand reality as well as you think. well okay you do undersatnd reality extremely well (because you try so damn hard lol) but you've lost your sense of self because you still dont think your worth it till you achieve the next thing- hence the cycle of working yo ass off - but hey you'll achieve a lot, you just need to perfect your perfectionistic tendencies -then youll finally be perfect! (get it) Saturn aspecting Jupiter - i think this aspect is one of the coldest. because these people try so hard, but get no where for the majority of their life. till they change perspectives and realize if they try harded else where, they'd get launched into success. i mean the amount of people who are successful - and i mean hugely successful > have this aspect - and everytime it was due to massive luck. however only they could grasp the 'lucky' opportunity, and that initself makes their achievements so much cooler than others. remember its jupiter, so all your 'hardships' inevitably become your greatest 'luck'. the white guy from 'sean of the dead' has this, and look at how much he impacted movies in general... jus saying mad props to that guy and to yall

Saturn aspecting Uranus - okay these guys are outcasted from society hard, due to some bullshit, but when they get recasted back into civilization they become someone who can change society at large- but its gonna take so much work... their perspective has been molded differently to most because they've been alone for so long. they have strange ideas that somehow work into tangible assets. perfect example : eminem - i mean hes basically best case scenario with this aspect, but hey why not try for best case scenario? but then again he made that hamster song... so i mean not always best case scenario... THats the price of neglect you could say lmao. Saturn aspecting Neptune - your imagination is your greatest challenge but also the key to your ultimate glory. like Michael Jordan had this aspect and well he was hella delusional. until he wasnt.... but its hard to say how much this benefited him... because both stages of his life - pre glory - and; glory - he was heavily isolated from everyone, and (likely) suffered in seclusion, by placing so much importance on his dreams. saturn wants you to master the 'spiritual world' i.e. imagination and dreams, and this causes anxiety that their dreams will just be dreams. which is what makes them put so much effort into it becoming real... then they realize the price of it all when its too late. so just make sure your aware of what your manifesting because if anyone can make it, its you. (achieving ur dreams) Saturn aspecting Pluto - how powerless do you feel. you do realize people can see how thirsty you are for respect/power, because they can sense your insecurity from past exepriences, and thats why your easy to play with. but do not worry. you will attain true power with enough effort. not just a bullshit image of power. because you've been pushed into the most vile trials to have ever have existed, and its only so that when you become someone powerful, you utilize your power properly, and do not step on others, because you know damn well how much it hurts to be stepped on. so your power is > saturn. your trials are so intense, and you're basically broken, but things that are broken know how to cut others (like broken glass). and well saturn wants you to master this > pluto > the darkness. and it makes reaching the top so much more palpable, because you'd feel like you earnt it. but you can make others insecure about what youve overcame so you better be humble, or saturn will fuck you. no honour among thieves, and we know you experienced that, but the kings play different, and you gotta adapt or saturn will flatten you.

[solargeist]

you made a post explaining him becoming a watcher.. can we hear about him running away, the relapse, etc, pretty pretty please? :>

with a cherry on top? lol!

hmmm !! It might not be as long as the other post, but...

The body horror of changing into an angel isn't the sole reason Grian wanted to leave the Watchers, there was a brief moment in time where he wondered if it'd be worth it, but wings are the first to grow, the rest take much longer as they're not as needed as wings are. Despite how much it hurt, he's pretty proud of his wings, and he enjoys flying.

He sticks around long enough to learn how to fly, he gets rly good at it, flinging himself down the halls followed by a strong breeze, flying up high in the air outside and then dropping, he gets confident in this. (hes like rainbow dash to me-)

Along with that, he studies Watcher magic, he learns Portal magic, which is being able to open portals without the help of obsidian or rituals. This can also be used in fights, see: opening a portal where a person's head is, or a tiny strip shooting from his fingers like bullets, (like lasers, but those bits of flesh end up somewhere.) but the part he focuses most on is opening portals to other servers. He's always supervised, they always visit servers with him--but usually close it without going through anyway. The Watchers are more precise with it, knowing exactly where they want to go, Grian only opens random ones.

Other reasons he wants to leave is, being treated like a child, the lack of control, the lack of autonomy. They control his sleep, his food, where he goes, what he does, even what he says. Along with studying and training, hes exhausted, the resentment builds over time, any nice moment is buried by bad ones. He trains with Flora, another Watcher, whose idea of training is to just release mobs after him, creatures he's never seen before, he's unsure if they shoot fire, poison, or explode. Being pinned against the ground by a creature with its teeth bared around his sword is a sight he doesn't forget. If Flora feels like he rly can't do it, she'll kill the creature herself. Grian doesn't forget how the blood and gore feels dumped on his face and body, nor the disappointed look on her face.

This all, along with knowing his friends have left him--and they're not going to save him, has him plotting, desperate to think of how to get out of the void. He can't just run away while on a Watcher job on a random server, they will find him.

He doesn't pick a date--theres no sun anyway, he doesn't know what days or weeks are anymore. Its one particular breakdown that makes him act, he has no full plan, but what he does have is explosives he's been collecting from servers over time and stashing under his bed. He doesn't pack anything, all he does is set the explosives off and runs. I haven't thought abt this particular part fully, it happens so quickly for him, if he makes eye contact with his mum on his way out, he doesn't hesitate to take to the skies, before he can lose his nerve.

Shooting out into the void, he doesn't have a plan, but he keeps flying as fast as he can before regret can catch up with him. He opens portals in front of himself and dives through as they shatter behind him, he doesn't know where hes going. He pops out in random parts of the void, different islands he doesn't recognize, he comes across servers torn apart by war or genuinely not safe enough to land, so he keeps going.

Grian doesn't know how long he's been flying, his sense of time is completely fried, but hes tired, he's never flown for so long before. He hops through another portal into another world, dark and quiet, but lights shining from large buildings scattered about, there must be a lot of players here so he thinks he should leave quickly, but before he can do that, his foot snags a tree top and throws him off balance, his attempt to catch himself only propels himself forward, crashing through branches and sliding across the dirt below. He doesn't know if it was the trees or the ground, but his left wing snaps, he doesn't know if he screamed or not, but he lays in the dirt writhing for awhile, muscles aching and emotions finally grasping at him, pulling him apart.

But ! Still not time to think abt all that rn, bc Xisuma finds him. Grian's first thought isn't that this is a player, all he can see under that helmet is eyes, and his first thought is Watchers--they found him immediately--and he screams this time, flipping over and putting his hands in front of himself for any fighting, he can't hear whatever Xisuma's saying over his own shouting, angrily stating he won't go back. He calms down after a moment when he sees Xisuma has stepped back, hands up to show he's friendly. Grian doesn't care though, hes sliding backwards on his hands, his wings twitch and he winces in pain. I think it takes a little bit of persuading, but after Xisuma explains himself, that hes an admin and this is his server and people, Grian calms down a bit, the exhaustion helps with this too. He ends up accepting Xisuma's help in bracing his wing. Taking him back to his base to do so, Grian would've ran again if he could've. They both agree that Grian will leave as soon as he can, but he is safe here to wait until then.

Back at his base, Xisuma makes them both tea and sits in front of Grian, telling him he has to explain himself. Grian doesn't touch his tea, and after a long pause, he gives the shortest story with the least amount of details possible. Xisuma knows what Watchers are already, so he does feel some sympathy for him.. He would feel concern abt the Watchers finding his server, but hes confident enough in his code. Grian stays that night, he hides under a bed and cries, still never drinking the tea, but he falls asleep.

UH fast forward fast forward Grian is invited to the server, and he does join as s6 starts, his wing still in bandages but doing much better now. He still hasn't met any players or heard much abt them. He's shocked to see Pearl, but also very happy--his sister !! his sister ?!?!?! She looks happy too, so he rushes forward and they hug, shes gotten so tall. He promises to tell her what happened later, but he still leaves out a lot of details.

This is getting long again fast forward fast forward again

The relapsing happens throughout s6, Grian overworks himself, insecure and nervous in his building ability--it almost feels like Evo again, wishing he could do better, scared to disappoint Xisuma and be kicked out for not being worth the trouble.

Grian's gotten rly close with his neighbour Mumbo, he'll take a break for Mumbo, to hang out with him. Grian has a problem with hoarding food, he never had control over it with the Watchers, so now on his own, he can't bare to throw anything out, he keeps things despite the smell or mold. Good bits of food sat with the rotten, but he doesn't eat either anyway, he just wants to have it, safe, where he can get to it easily, and he doesn't have to ask anyone. It takes Mumbo awhile to talk him into cleaning that out, its dangerous ! Even during the conversation Grian is slowly closing the cabinet Mumbo is trying to look into it, holding eye contact and desperately trying to convince Mumbo its fine (it is NOT.) Mumbos taken to sharing his lunch with him most days, or bringing snacks he claims he made too much of--or he bought too much by mistake, just to make sure he eats something.

Grian has a hard time living alone, he loses track of time and doesn't eat, or doesn't get the right amount of sleep. He feels lonely in his large build. The Watchers' controlled his entire life, so he doesn't know what to do with it now that its his again. When he thinks about it too long, it starts to ache, that little part of him never went away, the guilt, regret, and remorse, builds every time he doubts himself, he misses his bed !--Back in the void, that bed, this still doesn't feel like home, in some sick twisted way he feels homesick. Mumbo finds him at his base one day with his head buried in his knees crying, but when Grian notices he immediately pretends he was not crying, despite the red puffy eyes and tear stained face, he smiles and asks: whats up !! Hello whats up ! Mumbo laughs in horrified confusion, asking what happened. Grian says Nothing. Mumbo sits next to him and says c'mon mate what is this. Grian sighs and sinks back into himself, face dropping and exposing how tired he is. Grian slowly explains himself--at first leaving out many details--he just says he ran away from home before joining Hermitcraft, but he still misses his family sometimes--even if they hurt him. Mumbo thinks this is much deeper than he thought it'd be, but he encourages Grian to continue, and he does. Grian ends up telling Mumbo everything, absolutely everything, every humiliating detail and embarrassment, every memory good or bad. At some point they start telling family stories to each other, and Grian isn't crying anymore, they're both laughing, sat right next to each other. Its a huge relief. Grian poured his soul out to Mumbo and he held it so carefully.

late s6 and s7 go pretty smoothly--Watcher wise, Grian adjusts to life on his own and within a new community. Grian learns to fly again, he makes his wings his own and dyes them parrot colours.

I can't fit the rest, but he gets possessed by an alternate version of himself in s8, i think the Watchers find him as well bc of this timeline chaos. And the moons falling. Its a lot for him to emotionally deal with !

[kosije]

a/n: straight out of duolingo university lol. (plz lmk abt any mistakes) my official allegations of miguel being a switch.

sub!miguel who is completely at your mercy.

so needy. will actually tear up if you tease or edge him

never whimpers… usually

it takes a bit to wear down his stubbornness, but it’s soo worth it

needs to cum so bad he’ll beg :( poor baby

"ooh fuck-so good, baby" he groans out, riding out his orgasm in your mouth. when he feels you speed up, he looks almost worried.

"h-hey tómatelo con más calma, amour! 'ts too soon to g-ahh-go again, i'm sensitive!”

you mumble something unintelligible around him and all it does is send shock waves of pleasure up his spine. you must know what you do to him, right? he's biting his lip so hard he can taste blood and his eyes are getting foggy with tears. he has half of a mind to pull you off him, but it just feels-

"so good! r-right there~,"

your tongue savors his slit while your hands stimulate the rest of his cock and massage his balls, making him run his hands through your hair, desperate and whining to cum again. so when you pull your mouth off and wipe your face with your hand, he crumbles.

"qué pasa? w-why'd you stop?"

"did you really think it'd be that easy?"

he shivers when he heard your voice. why'd you have to choose now to be so mean? and why is it making his cock twitch?

shoving his pride to the side, he takes your hands into his shaking ones and kisses around your knuckles and wrist, reveling in the small smile tugging at your lips.

"m sorry.'m so so sorry. please don't leave me like this." he pouts, bringing your hands back to his aching tip, and your smile is toothy and borderline menacing.

"didn't think you'd cave so easily. maybe i should give you something a little more than a reward."

by the end of the night, he's thanking you with his head thrown back, adam's apple bobbing, and face covered in tears and sweat, trying to hold off his orgasm as you ride him into oblivion.

softdom!miguel who is sickening-ly loving.

will live in between your thighs

ride his face and he’ll cum around nothing

pleasure dom!!! and will praise u soooo sweetly <333

he's usually like this with you, doting and caring. whether his firm hands hold your thighs over his shoulders as he eats you out like he's in a trance, or lets you ride his tongue till you pass out from pleasure (like tonight), mans will give you what you need. spit and slick running down his chin as he dives impossibly deeper into your cunt, making your back arch dramatically and thighs threaten to close.

"taste so good. siempre tan bueno para mí. déiame hacerte sentir bien."

as lewd and dirty as he looks with you on top of him, he finds it extremely intimate. you riding out your orgasm on him, your smell and taste intoxicating him, his eyes are rolling back and hips thrusting into the hollow air, desperate for any stimulation.

but you’re his angel, so when you see how needy his cock is, you wrap a sweaty hand around him and give him what just what he needed to cum immediately into your palm.

when he’s done, he’s kissing all over your thighs, praises falling from his lips as he looks up at you with a love struck expression wondering if you’re ready for him to fuck you silly ;)

meandom!miguel who is RUTHLESS!!

terribly mean because he’s in a bad mood

slapping, biting, choking, the whole 9 miles.

even his compliments are degrading

(me next, please)

harshly slapping your ass as he rails you, other hand pressing your face deeper into the mattress as you sob that it’s “too much.” when he’s tired of your sobbing, hell roughly grabs your neck to lift you upright while still drilling his long cock into the spot that has your eyes rolling back.

“huh? it’s too much? was such a little slut before and now you can’t take it? such an ungrateful whore. you’ll take it tho. want me to fuck you so deep that you’ll be round with mis niños, huh?”

“i asked you a question. use your voice or i’ll stop.”

“y–yes! yes! wanna be pregnant with your kid! wanna–right there–make you a daddy!”

with the coil in his gut threatening to snap, he runs his hands down your body to rub circles on your clit as he bites down on your shoulder.

“i can’t hold it! need to cum–oh please keep fucking me right t-there!”

“such a needy slut.” his laugh sends heat straight to your core when his lips move to the shell of your ear. “anda, cum for me.”

you’re not naïve enough to think he’s done with you. his thick fingers scoop up his cum and shove it back into your cunt, making you jump and whine. he can’t hear anything over the thoughts of how pretty you’d look also as a mommy (>_>)

[sophieinwonderland]

Now, why would you dare me to embarrass you and your pals like that?

I appreciate how you wanted my attention so bad you posted me to not one, but two subreddits.

Makes a girl feel special! 🤣

I have actually never seen Wikipedia cited as a source about endogenic plurality. Though I do see anti-endos all the time, when asked for sources, telling people to just Google things.

Anyway, here's @guardianssystem's document filled with academic papers about endogenic plurality:

I've compiled my own, but honestly, theirs is better organized than mine.

And in the interest of fairness, here are all the anti-endo papers debunking endogenic plurality:

Sorry, I forgot. Those don't exist. Oops. 🤷‍♀️

Echo chamber? LOL!

Weren't you the one spouting a bunch of lies on Tumblr, got totally debunked, posted the people who debunked you to r/systemscringe to have a hugbox where fakeclaimers could assure you how the people who contradicted you are all fakers, and then blocked everyone who disagreed with you?

Weren't you also the one who, when shown a quote from an expert in dissociative disorders who worked on the DSM-5 saying that a disorder isn't a disorder if it doesn't cause distress, argued that the people who defined what disorder are must be wrong about that definition?

You're a misinformation machine who can only find support when huddled in cringe subreddits. Don't try to talk about people in echo chambers.

Also, you know most of psychology is just... listening to people? That's how it's been as long as the field existed. DID (or MPD at the time) was a recognized disorder since long before the first brain scans were conducted on DID patients. It's saying something though when basically every single scientist who has ever researched endogenic plurality has said they believe it's a real thing, or that it could be. While absolutely zero academic papers have expressed that it's fake.

There is also an fMRI study into tulpa systems that's been in the works, but results have yet to be published.

Sure, if that's what you'd like me to call you, Crazy. 😊

Anyway, Crazy, you should know that just because you personally find something scary doesn't mean everyone will or that the thing is bad. Personal preferences are a thing.

In a study of tulpamancers though, most generally reported their lives becoming better after the practice.

78% reported improvements in their mental health, and 91% on overall life.

There are many out there who would jump at the chance to have someone there with them that knows them intimately, and to never have to be alone again.

If it's not for you, then so be it.

But it's certainly not something to be afraid of.

And maybe, for those who are willing to commit to the practice while America struggles with an epidemic of loneliness, it's something worth being open to.

This is actually pretty fair.

But that's now, and I'm looking at course of history and trends of plural acceptance.

300 years ago, any plural would be viewed as demon possessed and end up tortured or killed for their plurality.

70 years ago, all plurality was seen as a mental illness, and it was common to force plurals, as well as anyone else associated with mental illnesses, into asylums.

30 years ago, the first real plural communities were able to connect on the internet and form in small numbers.

8 years ago, the first studies into endogenic plurality started being conducted. 4 years ago, the ICD-11 acknowledged that you could have multiple distinct personality states without a disorder. 2023 marked the first, but certainly not the last, time a system used their system name as an author of an academic paper.

Recently, new plural resources have been designed and put into use. More servers than ever are using Pluralkit. And Simply Plural went from 100k users at the end of 2021 to 210k at the end of 2022.

Progress is happening far more rapidly than you realize. And you had best be ready for it.

BOO! 👻

Oh, hey, I just realized... this is literal pluralphobia!

Liberté!

Egalité!

Fraternité!

And yes, The Future is Plural! 😜

[borntolurk]

OKAY SO I have a theory about the Aziraphale/Crowley relationship progression but it is going to have some pretty significant SPOILERS for E1-2 of Good Omens S2 so be warned!

By significant spoilers I mean that I will be describing some specific moments across both episodes (which I saw at the NYC screening).

Theory is below the line-

Alright, so as most people already know- I think from an interview- in the opening scene where Crowley and Aziraphale are both angels, Aziraphale notices Crowley before Crowley notices Aziraphale, and Aziraphale is clearly struck by Crowley. I don't know that I'd say "in love" but I think that it's somewhere in a range from "admiring" to "infatuated."

There are a lot of people theorizing about how that could possibly mesh with the S1 truism that Crowley fell fast for Aziraphale and Aziraphale kind of ignored him but I actually think it works perfectly well if you look at it this way:

Aziraphale fell for (for lack of a better term lol) the angel Crowley had been before.

So when he’d have seen Crowley in Eden, Crowley would recognize him as he looks exactly the same and really it's only been seven days, but Aziraphale would see a demon who COULDN’T POSSIBLY BE THE SAME BEING HE FELL FOR!

On rewatching the Eden scene, I think that Aziraphale does recognize Crowley as the angel who fell- he just doesn’t know his new name- and while obviously this is basically just me projecting back on performances that didn’t have ANY of this in mind, he seems very on edge when talking to Crowley. It’s like he knows EXACTLY what led Crowley to fall (asking questions and criticizing God), Crowley’s doing more of it now, seemingly to tempt Aziraphale into falling (especially now that he’s a demon and that’s what demons do, it’s what Crowley just did to Eve), and so Aziraphale is trying to be very careful. It’s why Aziraphale is so freaked out when Crowley points out that maybe he shouldn’t have given away the flaming sword, and that it wouldn’t be good if actually Aziraphale did do the bad thing and Crowley did the good.

Aziraphale needs to have done the good thing so that he doesn't fall and end up like Crowley, the angel who he fell for (figuratively....) and who has met this fate and turned into a totally different being! He’s seen exactly what happens when you’re a powerful and well meaning angel who just has some questions about god’s plans! I believe strongly that Aziraphale had believed that Crowley AS AN ANGEL was good and worth falling in love with, but that Crowley AS A DEMON is a different being who cannot be seen in the same way.

Then at the ark, its Aziraphale’s side that is doing the atrocity so it’s the typical defensiveness, continuing with the whole “well he’s a demon and even if I kind of agree with him he can’t be GOOD the way he was when he was an angel, and that means he must be bad and wrong even if his points make sense.” Crowley is a demon now, and demons are bad, even when they FEEL right- and if Aziraphale goes after his natural inclination which agrees with Crowley, especially if part of that is because he remembers what he felt about that angel of years ago, it just means that he's being tempted by a demon...

AND THEN we get to the Job minisode. I loved the minisode and so I'm hesitant to really spoil it but basically Crowley yo yos back and forth- first he seems very happy to do terrible things to Job, then it turns out he's been partially defying that order (which incidentally means going against God's plan, which is a VERY big problem for Aziraphale!), then he concocts a plan that requires Aziraphale, for good reason, to lie to the other angels, including some archangels, thereby counteracting God's plan. Afterward Aziraphale freaks out because he thinks that lying in order to trick Heaven and God means he’s fallen, and Crowley has to explain that that’s not how it works and comforts him.

Aziraphale is conflicted, of course, because Crowley is confusing and can't really win- on the one hand, it's bad if Crowley listens to God and kills Job's kids, but on the other hand it's bad if Crowley DOESN'T listen to God and DOESN'T kill Job's kids! So Aziraphale is expecting much more than Crowley is ever able to live up to- he's muddled about his purpose, and Aziraphale doesn't know how to interpret that.

I feel like this would kind of put the tin lid on it. Crowley is a different being now, one who may still have merciful qualities that Aziraphale likes and agrees with (and may remind Aziraphale of that angel of long ago) but is still a demon and against everything that Aziraphale is meant to stand for. And while the minisode ends with Aziraphale understanding that he's not quite like the other angels, he is still very clear- he is an angel and Crowley is a demon. They aren't just enemies, they are incompatible. The Crowley in front of him and the Crowley (or whatever his name was) that he remembers from heaven are different and he can't trust the one in front of him.

Because it feels like that's the main barrier here- Aziraphale can't trust Crowley. Crowley is a demon and his object is to tempt humanity to its downfall, even if Crowley himself isn't always so into that. Aziraphale may like Crowley, but it's against his better judgment- every bone in his body tells him not to trust him. He can't trust that Crowley's intentions are genuine- also in the minisode, Crowley tempts Aziraphale to try food (or as Gabriel would call it "gross matter") for the first time, and Aziraphale is somewhat disturbed by this in part because he knows that he is susceptible to Crowley's temptations! How can he trust after this that anything that Crowley does for him or says to him is done with good intentions rather than to bring him down from where he thinks he should be?

It's the Arrangement that ends up changing this. Having an agreement where they each do things for each other, each against their own better judgment, slowly but surely encourages Aziraphale to trust Crowley and his intentions. And it's during the Blitz, when Crowley puts himself in danger to help Aziraphale (danger that is specifically caused by the fact that Crowley IS a demon- otherwise the church would hold no danger), that Aziraphale really realizes that Crowley does have good intentions. He put himself at risk, which is the furthest thing from trying to get something for himself. This allows Aziraphale to trust Crowley that he really does need the holy water for a good reason, among other things later.

As you can tell, I don't actually think that Aziraphale has ever been oblivious to Crowley. He sees everything, but interprets it through his own mental lens. (The parallel that came to mind for me, weirdly, and you can ignore this if you've never seen the sitcom Frasier, but Daphne would have to be wearing massive blinkers not to know that Niles is into her- it's just that she doesn't recognize what kind of feelings he has because in her mind they are in two different worlds and so the idea that he could be genuinely interested is out of her comprehension.) To Aziraphale, Crowley is intriguing and kind and he's thought so since the beginning, but he's also dangerous. In fact that's what makes him dangerous!

Crowley is dangerous because there is so much about him to love, but he is a demon and therefore, in Aziraphale's worldview, unlovable. A demon can't love and be loved! And so Aziraphale is really also not just not trusting Crowley, but also not trusting HIMSELF. He has all these feelings about Crowley but he keeps saying that they're just Crowley tempting him or just residual feelings from the version of Crowley it WAS permissible to love, the angelic one.

I think that Crowley may genuinely be oblivious to anything Aziraphale is feeling, because in the opening scene he isn’t paying a tremendous amount of attention to Aziraphale, but I think he does grasp that Aziraphale doesn’t trust him and that’s what he’s working to change. He knows it's an uphill battle and the most important thing to do in order not just to change their relationship but to get Aziraphale out of his funk.

Now that they're both "on their own side," Aziraphale has a lot more understanding. He sees that just because Crowley is a demon it doesn't mean he is untrustworthy, and he realizes that each of them independently needs to make themselves worthy of trust and Crowley has done that again and again. And so it's almost natural for him to go back to those feelings that he had for that original angelic Crowley, but reinforced by everything he's learned since then- millennia of Crowley proving his ultimate goodness.

As a character in one of my favorite novels, Dorothy L Sayers's Gaudy Night, said of another character (paraphrased), "if I should once give way to him, I would go up like straw." And indeed she does. Aziraphale does too- once he opens himself to fully trust Crowley he can feel that sense of peace and security between them, and fall right into it, in a way that Crowley, who's been working so hard to establish it up until then, can't really. Crowley's been on edge for so long that he can't take anything for granted; Aziraphale can.

[inurecity]

Gaz Relationship Headcannons

gn!reader

you just KNOW gaz can be the kinkiest mf ever if you give him the chance to be. worse than how some people depict könig. i wanted to expand on that a bit, mainly because this man is too underrated for his own good. that being said, here’s some relationship headcannons about him. a few SFW, others not.

SFW

-gaz needs at least a hand on you at all time. he doesn’t do it consciously, he just needs to know that you’re there with him.

-if you’re going anywhere with gaz, know he takes at least 20 minutes to get ready. no matter how much you complain, he needs to make himself look perfect. which, you remind him constantly, he does already, but he doesn’t seem to care.

-skin care routine is worse than soap’s, let’s be honest with ourselves. gaz hates it when he hasn’t put any product on his face during a mission—if you’re on it with him all you’ll here is constant whining. his routine consists of 2 hours a day when he can get the time for it.

-fashion expert and PROUD. this man will take you to 50 different thrift stores in his free time looking for steals and will explain in great detail their history. it’s insane how much he knows about clothes, and it mystifies you to this day. but, he doesn’t stop there—trust that he would take you on at least 1 shopping spree per week (if he isn’t deployed) and would pamper you with fancy thrifted clothing like nobodies business.

-that being said, gaz loves to go thrifting. the feeling of hidden treasures passed down by strangers makes him so happy.

-and, of course, the clothes he buys must be worn—in public or curated into a fashion show. which he loves doing, by the way—to watch you grumble as you shuffle out in a new piece orchestrated by him. absolutely priceless memories.

-but it doesn’t stop there. gaz, being the pretty faced manipulator he is, has 100% roped soap, ghost, price, alejandro, and even rudy into his shows. he has a photo album dedicated to blackmail of them.

-off of talking about clothing now—gaz probably has a giant collection of plushies. from sanrio to weirdly realistic dogs, this man has em all. bad day? he has your favorite plushie of his to cheer you up. cramps? you know he has a plushie with a built in heating pad. he’s deployed? you better expect him to literally make a body pillow of himself for you.

-knows how to crochet. made a plush of you and him holding hands, and to this day it sits on the corner of your work desk.

-in your alone time, gaz has the cheesiest smile ever plastered on his face for every second of it. he loves spending time with you so much, it’s worth his face muscles hurting.

-passenger. princess. refuses to drive when he doesn’t need to. he’s the kind of person to be sitting there with his eyes closed, massaging your thigh as you drive.

-gaz has had a ring tucked away in an old shoe box for months. he glances at it every time he walks by, but never had the strength to take it out. you find it, one day, while looking for your old yearbooks and nearly had a heart attack.

-when he finally proposed to you on a date, you shake your head and laugh. before he takes it the wrong way you explain what happened, and he nearly dies of embarrassment right then and there. but of course, you said yes. how couldn’t you?

NSFW

mainly gn!reader, did everything i could not to make it complete f!r lol

-this man treats you like royalty in bed. when he’s not vigorously shoving you into the headboard, he’s whispering praise into your ear and taking it slow. drinks up every moment of it.

-but, of course, he has his moments. when he comes home from deployment, best believe he’s pushing you against the door as soon as he closes it and sliding his hand up your shirt, removing it as soon as he can. between hungry kisses his lips find their way down your body, kissing and nipping at every inch he could.

-he can’t get enough of how you taste, and being away for so long makes it worse. so, naturally, as you whimper under his hold, he fucks you right there. pressed against the door, hasty kisses everywhere as his cock pushes in and out of you as fast as it can go.

-he’s *loud*, too. grunts and soft moans, sure, but he can’t keep his mouth shut. when he’s not praising you, he’s whining at the feeling of your walls clamping around his length. (alt: he’s whining at the feeling of your hole clamping around his length.)

-there’s been times where he got a bit too loud and the neighbors complained. it was mortifying.

-gaz can’t help but dirty talk the whole time. as much as he hates accidentally calling you a slut or whore in the moment, there’s still times where he does. and of course, when this happens, he slows down and cups your face in his hands as apology after apology bombards you.

-he might seem like a gentleman during sex most of the time, but let him go crazy and he will.

(AFAB!R) -gets pussy drunk after seconds, and gets latched onto you. his hands push open your thighs no matter how hard you try to close them, and he just fucking goes to town.

-he knows his size, too; he’ll take his time opening you with his fingers and tongue before he uses his cock.

(AMAB!R) -there’s been times where he wields it like a damn sword and fights yours with it. (he can be a child sometimes and i’m fucking here for it)

-uses praise as a way of leverage; he’ll fuck you nice and rough but will talk you through it till he finishes.

-probably has some weird kinks he won’t admit to. there’s been a few times where he’s gotten hard from watching you cook; it didn’t go so well for the food in the oven after you pointed it out. grubhub is the best option after you finish.

-the KING of aftercare. you just know he’ll pamper you out of existence.

-he’ll shower with you, rubbing your back and cleaning you up. (gaz would the most gentle man ever, fight me)

-and after? you’ll fall asleep on his chest and he’ll kiss your forehead, matching your breathing pattern until he falls asleep.

ACK IM SORRY FOR NOT GOING TOO INTO DETAIL FOR THE NSFW PART, i’ve never really written any smut before especially not in this format haha 🥲

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

hi! i have a question i’m directing at you bc i’ve seen the idea going around tumblr but most recently on your post — if a student is caught using ai to cheat do you think that’s worth expulsion? should that be the best case scenario punishment? while i understand the importance of making it known to students the severity of using chatgp, at the same time i feel like that’s a very harsh punishment for being caught cheating. but then also at the same time! i’m not a teacher and i don’t know if it’s possible to teach a student to value their education and the opportunity they have for high learning if they don’t already personally believe that the opportunity is a gift. idk! this isn’t really a structured question but i guess i’m curious about how you (or in general, how professors) feel about expulsion for chatgp (i know you’re just one person and don’t speak on behalf of all educators lol but it’s just something i’ve been curious about)

Expulsion as in, ejected wholesale from the entire university, Do Not Darken Our Door Again? No, I don't.

I think what outsiders tend to miss is that students who do this, 99% of the time, are desperate. Something has gone terribly wrong, they're desperate to meet those deadlines and get that work done, and in my experience it's almost always wrapped up in neurodivergence (usually undiagnosed) and frequently a home situation that's made their lives a shit show and pushed academia to a back burner.

But, it's a more serious issue than high school cheating on a multiple choice quiz. Degrees are crafted to have quality assurance built in, and with good reason. The whole point of a degree is that it's proof of higher learning, and specialist knowledge - you get a higher salary (in theory lol) because your employer is paying for the very expensive training you've undergone. This is particularly important in something like medicine or construction, because if you haven't actually completed all parts of that degree you could kill someone; but even in my own field, if you fundamentally don't understand the physical processes of a sand dune as well as its ecology, and someone hires you to manage that sand dune... well, it's going to be an over-stabilised mess in about five years' time and you've killed the rare sand lizards and mining bees that were living there. And if your degree is a course in an institution who is famous for producing top quality environmental workers who know this stuff... well, you've just made your uni course look very, very bad in industry.

So unis are protective of their quality assurance, and that means they do not like cheaters. And I do agree with that, that's fair enough.

For me, though, I think the answer is not full expulsion. I would run it like this:

Confirm beyond a shadow of a doubt that the student has indeed cheated. This must be confirmed.

IF NOT CONFIRMED: Mark the work strictly. Pair this with a viva - the student must be able to answer questions about the work from two lecturers with subject expertise, plus someone from the Academic Office (although that latter person can just observe only). This will determine how deep their knowledge is vs what they submitted, and should be factored into the overall mark.

IF CONFIRMED: Module fail, all marks for those credits set to zero, and the information included on transcripts (not why they failed, just that they attempted the module and got zero.) HOWEVER, the student is allowed one resit attempt; this might mean having to redo the year as a part-time student just to get that module, depending on how it's taught and how important it is.

All of the above with the understanding that their work is going to now be checked very closely going forward for repeat issues. In confirmed cases, a viva is now a required part of future work.

To be fair, mind, proving cheating is genuinely very hard, so depending on how strict the uni is, that's roughly the system that gets used anyway. Your work is very strictly marked, you get viva'd, and you usually fail on quality anyway (especially if your flavour of cheating was ChatGPT, because what it produces is shit.) After you've failed, gone through a resit period, and been capped at a pass mark for the fail, you realise pretty quickly that it would have been less stress and effort for a higher mark to just do the work yourself. And that's a learning curve everyone should be allowed, I think.

[yeyinde]

My mostly wholesome Price thought of the day is just wanting to give him a massage. And I don’t mean a quick shoulder rub; no, I mean a proper full-body massage with oils and candles, and all because he deserves to be pampered. Price (and honestly all of the boys) is so stressed all the time, it comes with the job, and because he’s in charge and bears so many different burdens, I am certain he carries some of that tension in his body, especially his back and shoulders. He’d never ask for one, but I’m sure he would appreciate it so much. Knowing that you care enough to want to relieve some of his stress would warm his heart and just make him love you that much more. Plus, you’d get to touch him however you want, and he’d undoubtedly thank you afterward by making you feel good, so it’s truly a win-win situation. In conclusion, I love him, and I am projecting because I, too, am stressed about finals and would benefit greatly from a massage lol -🧚🏽‍♀️

You always seem to know exactly what is going on in my head, and I'm genuinely in awe over everything you write.

Price, to me, is someone who never takes. He gives, always. He'll be as rough as you want. As sharp as you need. He puts everyone, and everything, before himself. He's a natural born leader. Utilitarian to his core. He's the first one who takes the shot, who gets blood on his hands, to spare everyone else from the hardships of it. He carries the weight of every single action on his shoulders and eases it with vices in the form of cigars and scotch, and screams himself raw on the battlefield. He refuses to be coddled or cared for because it's not Important. He's not important compared to everything else. 

He's secondary even in his own life. 

So, imagine just—pretty little woman'ing him in the tub. 

He comes home, reeking of stale tobacco and aching from his duties. Joints aching from carrying the world in his hands. He just wants to sink into bed with you by his side. 

But you don't let him. You drag him to the washroom where it smells of lavender and clary sage. Where you've run him a warm bath, poured him a glass of his favourite scotch (and a bottle of water, because God knows this man needs something more than malt in his belly), and you've given him a cigar. You don't condone his bad habits, but he's a man who bears the brunt of everything in his aching muscles. You let him have his comforts—some of the only things he chooses for himself.

You pull him into the bathroom, undress himself yourself despite his protests that you're doing too much, he doesn't any of this, he just wants you—

You press kisses, and pepper reverent whispers into each battle scar and old wound. You sing hymns in every knot that clots under his skin until it's smooth again. 

It's easy to revere him in the same way he does you, and you worship each blemish on his body until adamantine sapphires melt into liquid blue lagoons. Until his shoulders sag, and the wrinkles in his forehead dissipate.

He goes willingly when you tug him into the tub, brows raising when you get in first, settling against the back. Price huffs, amused, a little bewildered, but he goes along with your demands, and sinks into your embrace. It's a little awkward, a little unsure. He isn't a man who allows himself these small moments of affection—its all saved for you. Not him, never him. 

But you persist. 

You've never held him like this—and with the way he tenses before liquifying with a groan into your arms, you wonder if anyone ever has. It cudgels into you. A small moment where you resolve, absolutely, to hold him like this more often. 

Price huffs, and tsks the entire time you wash him, telling you it isn't worth it, he can just shower, you don't need to go so far for me, love. 

It breaks you a little.

You press a kiss to his nape. "Shut up, and let me spoil you for a moment." 

The stutter in his lungs, the sudden silence—it's all an extension of just how brassbound and ironclad his resolve is, and how heavy he must feel to carry it all alone. Has anyone ever spoiled him before? Has anyone ever tried to rub the grit off with gentle hands, and a soft touch? 

(You ache at the thought.)

You nip his skin when he sinks down against you, eyes fluttering shut in a moment of contentment, bliss. He looks so young like this. So raw and vulnerable, and you feel the affection spume deep inside of you. Your unshakeable mountain of a man. 

Your head falls, forehead resting on this shoulder as you run your fingers over his worn, battered flesh. Each stroke to his skin is done with purpose, conviction. You touch him as if you could suffuse the heft of your love into his marrow where it will aerate in his heavy bones, and ease his burdens. 

He rumbles, a noise of pure pleasure, and you hug him closer to your body at the surprise that leaks into the grunt. 

He deserves the world and more—

"I'll make you feel even better when we're finished, love."

—and you plan on showing him. 

[blackswan446]

weeping mary

→ pairing: yan!jhs x reader

→ synopsis: the show must go on, right?

→ wc: 1842

→ cws: gun, reader gets hit in head and passes out lols

→ notes: despite the title this is not a religious story whatsoever lol it just has heavy religious allegories

--

theatre was an odd place. whenever a new show goes into production, you never really know who you'll end up being with for the next months of your life. you could get lucky, and end up with people who had a passion for the art and made the frustrations of props and memorization worth it. or, you could get the short end of the stick, and get stuck with the group of people who were made to watch shows, not participate in them.

more often than not, it's a mix of both. sometimes one group outnumbered the other, other times it was an even blend. and every single time, you could count on the two groups to butt heads. that's how it was here, in your little college theatre department, and normally, it wasn't that much of an issue. but this time it was not as easy. you, a lifelong lover of theatre and one of the more...theatrically challenged participants, paired up, occupying the two leading roles.

it wasn't like he was bad, but his recitations during rehearsals sounded just like that, recitations. like he was reading from a script, even though he had the lines memorized. they just failed to evoke anything deeper within you, they didn't spark the same emotions inside you as you felt with other people, even within your group. some of the performances you had seen felt so real you could've sworn the emotions they were portraying were real and raw, so clear you could reach out, touch them, and feel them yourself.

you felt bad for even thinking these things, since hoseok was such a sweetheart. he was extremely kind and he was making a clear effort, but theatre was just not his strong suit. maybe with practice, maybe with a lot of practice, he would improve, but as of now, you didn't have your hopes set high for the evenings ahead of you.

that's what you used to explain the twisted feeling in your gut as you sat in the fluorescent room. it was empty by now, the only things in there being the ghost of excited chatter and loose makeup powder hanging in the air. you could see your reflection through the fingerprints and dust covering the mirror, the costume and headpiece that adorned you almost distracting from the worried aura you embodied. the shine of the lights illuminated the front of your body, eliminating the shade and casting a saintly glow upon your figure. weeping mary, you thought, your own appearance reminded you of the weeping mary.

you were distracted from your own thoughts by a shadowy figure appearing in the doorway behind you. whipping around to get a look at the mystery silhouette, you were met with none other than jung hoseok himself. sighing, you greeted the usually-happy guy normally, though a discontented look rested on his face.

"[name], are you alright? you weren't out there with everybody else backstage, and i got worried." he asked quietly, his voice soft and kind. his costume fitted him well, the colors and cuts of the various articles of clothes suiting him better than you had imagined.

"yeah, i'm okay. i just wanted to sit alone for a minute. don't worry about me." you said feebly, eyes meeting your clasped hands. unconvinced, hoseok paused before his next question. "did something happen?" he said gingerly, the words coming out as if they were afraid of what you had to say. sighing, you shook your head. "no, nothing happened. i just don't feel great, i have a bad feeling about tonight." you admitted, looking at the shiny costume jewelry that sparkled on your fingers.

"bad feeling?" you didn't need to look up from your manicure to see the puzzled look on his face, you could hear it in his voice, the way he sounded more shocked than sympathetic. "...what do you think is going to happen?" he said carefully, like he was unsure of his own question. you shrugged your shoulders. "i don't know. i think it's just nerves." you lied. it was so much more than that, at least, that's how it felt to you. but what exactly were you supposed to do? drop out because of a random gut feeling and let everybody down? that wasn't an option, not tonight, not ever. the show must go on.

no words were spoken, rather, you felt a gentle hand touch your shoulder, so delicately resting where the end of the pink tulle fabric and your clammy skin met, as if you were a fragile porcelain doll that would break if the wind hit it wrong. "i get where you're coming from, [name]. but how bad is it really if things go wrong tonight? this is just one night out of our whole lives. we have so much ahead of us. do you really want to look back on your youth and remember being scared for nothing and not enjoying the ride?" he wondered, a convincing tone that was not present earlier now accompanying his voice.

he was right, you knew he was, but the validity of his point didn't release the knot in your stomach. but you weren't going to burden the poor boy with your existential crises, you couldn't, not after he had just tried to comfort you, not when you only had fifteen minutes until the show began. not now.

giving him a warm and grateful smile, and nodding as a show of understanding, you thanked him for his philosophical point of view, and the both of you made your way out of the room, hoseok looking significantly happy and pleased with himself. it took everything in you to replace his words with the hurricane of worry clouding your mind, and as you stepped out onto that stage, you ignored the screaming voice in the front of your mind, begging you to run in the other direction.

the show must go on.

--

time felt like it was moving through quicksand. act one was hard enough, you could barely keep up with your lines because of how on-edge you were the whole time. the only thing you had time or energy to do during intermission was throw back some cold water and hope for the best. having hoseok in your ear, both onstage and off, wasn't exactly calming your nerves. he was nice, as he always was, but what you really needed was to stew in your anxiety and work through it alone.

the further you spiraled into your madness, the more the door of hope squeaked shut, but as the end of act two rolled around, you thought you saw the light at the end of the tunnel, a sliver of yellow sunshine from behind the door. maybe you were just crazy. maybe nothing would go wrong, maybe you hadn't slept well, or were coming down with something, maybe

just maybe

everything would be alright.

if only your own desperation hadn't blurred the lines between the warmth of hope and the fires of hell.

you stood at the far edge of the stage, looking across to hoseok. something was different about him, something in the way he looked, there was a new passion behind his eyes that you had never seen before. even if it wasn't scripted, the look would have made you stop and stare all on its own.

"i love you, [c/n], i love you so much, for everything you've done for me." you paused dramatically, turning your back to hoseok as you prepared to make your final exit, "but i really hate you, for everything you've done to me."

that's when it happened. you were supposed to leave, it was only supposed to take a second. but he was faster.

"no."

you felt the familiar pit in your stomach return with a hungry vengeance. there was nothing else for you to do, but turn around slowly and roll with whatever the hell he was doing.

"no, [y/c/n]. you're not going anywhere. i have loved you for so long. since the day i laid my eyes on you, the day our hands met, and since the first time you smiled at me, i have been yours since then, and i will still be yours when time gives out and history ends and only the stars are left in this world. you are my heart, my soul, my brain, my absolute everything. the day i stop loving you, is the day that love dies. please, [y/c/n]."

speechless, unmoving, and heart pumping wildly, the only thing you could manage to squeak out was a weak "no". the look of passion from before, the same one that could have cracked a diamond, was gone. now he looked crazed, insane, as he stormed over to your trembling figure.

"that's not a choice. i've spent too long watching from afar. all my life, i've waited for someone like you to fall into my lap. i love you, [name], and i'm not taking no for an answer."

with that, he reached into the back pocket of his costume pants, and pulled out something shiny, something that glinted underneath the hot stage lights. the air in your lungs refused to exit, any sort of words getting caught in the back of your throat as you stared at the metallic gun held in hoseok's gloved hand. there was a loud gasp from the audience, and for a minute, you thought you tasted the sweet exlir of hope, but once you realized that people mistook this awful situation for a part of the show, you felt your heart sink onto the floor.

it was obvious by now that this wasn't acting anymore. this was a real thing, real emotions and a very real weapon in front of you. hell, that's why he sounded so passionate during his monologue. he wasn't speaking from a script, he was speaking from the deep and twisted cracks of his heart that you wouldn't have dreamt of existing. the irony wasn't lost on you, how someone like hoseok had turned out to be the best actor you had ever met.

all you could do was shake your head, your body too paralyzed in fear to do anything else. he chuckled, an amused smirk washing over his features, as if he knew this would happen. as if he had planned it to be this way. with an accepting look on his face and a sweet, strong kiss to your lips, and with that kiss, your fate was sealed. you didn't like it, nor did you want it, but the fear had turned you to stone, and all you could do was watch from a distance.

"'til death do us part, my love."

the only thing you could hear during those final moments of consciousness, the final moments of life as you knew it, as hoseok scooped up your collapsed figure and threw you over his shoulder, was the cheers and applause of an audience who had just seen the show of a lifetime.