#but that’s only the one layer for me!!!!!!

[losersiren]

𝒜 𝒥𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒!𝐿𝑜𝓇𝒹

”𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼'𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝓎𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝒸𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈.” A continuation of my oc Ambrose, The lord N: Don't I have a gift for you, Anon! God, I had to rewrite this so many times, BUT I'M DONE!! Eat up! This is a long one! I had to watch so many gun videos (like two), which was unexpected... CW: Fem reader (she/her), acts and talks of violence (not towards the reader), implied murder, threats, guns, fluff (with the reader lol), mocking, power balance (?) Jealousy (or pettiness) Wc: 3.5k 

A shotgun sound echoes throughout the forest, followed by yet another dead Grey partridge and light crunches of leaves beneath stomping leather boots. 

“That bastard of a man! A prick! Son of a bitch! Son of an adventuress at that!” Ambrose stops in his tracks, reloading his sporting rifle with more gunpowder. Anger consumes his entire being. ”Did you hear what that bloody cocksucker Patrick said to her?” He hissed through his clenched teeth, grabbing the tiny 0.5 mm sphere lead bullet and layering it on top of some fabric. Shoving it inside the rifle barrel, “If what he said changed from the last few hundred times you’ve re-told the incident, then I have no utter clue.”  The younger male rolls his eyes, picking up the tenth bird Ambrose has slaughtered this afternoon. He ignores his younger cousin’s sarcastic quip and continues. “ ‘If you wish for a lovely evening, do not be a stranger; send me a letter, and I'll be by your side.’ I should’ve darkened his daylights when those vile words left his devil mouth.” He fixes his gun upright, pushing the first trigger, waiting for another prey to be a victim of his wrath. 

“Is she spoken for? Have you outwardly said you intend to court her?” His cousin questions, and Ambrose, in retaliation to his younger relative’s question….blushes like a young girl. Clenching his jaw, he answers, “No,” “Are you mad?!?” “I’ve attempted…but my nervousness has sabotaged me alas.” Astonished, his cousin continues, “Then you have no right to be jealous of her, you fool.” 

Bushes start rustling. Ambrose aims and squints instantly, with a pointer finger on the second trigger. A small grey rabbit appears, and immediately, it's killed straight through its skull; a soft smile appears on Ambrose’s face. “For her, I'll be whatever is needed.” 

“You are not sane.”

“Don’t be rude, Finch. This is love in its purest form. One day, you’ll understand.” The older male shrugs his shoulders.

“Now,” Ambrose reloads his gun, repeating his past actions, but this time, he looks straight into the other male’s eyes. “What do you know about Patrick Barton?” “I do not-” Ambrose cuts him off. “ Do not lie to me, young Finch…” His voice becomes lower, mocking, his aura more sinister. “You frequent more gentleman clubs than I; lord knows I hate the people and atmosphere of said clubs– Your mother grumbles enough to mine about the subject.” In goes the gunpowder: “You surround yourself with such…’ vast’ personalities from the elites to the ladies of the night.” The grey-eyed man reaches into his waistcoat for a lead bullet. “Yet you tell me– you don’t know about a mere Lord.” He scoffs.

Finch watches his older cousin's actions. Of course, he only asked to spend time with him for information regarding the apple of his eye’s new ‘suitor.’ The young man knows his current situation, the number of Grey partridge carcasses he holds because of Ambrose, and how far deep he’s in the forest, alone with his turbulent cousin. This was a warning, a show of sorts, that he could join these insignificant birds. He tries to swallow the heavy lump stuck in his throat. Ambrose was always the odd man; his smile never reached his eyes, his charm as real as a disloyal man’s ‘ I love you.’ His older cousin wasn’t above putting his hands on his own blood to get what he wanted– Ambrose’s father’s scar is evidence enough. 

“He partakes in Hell’s, frequents them more than gentleman’s clubs, a gambler of sorts. Loves it! He brags about the thrills of it and his winnings. Folks whisper that he’s a dishonourable shark. But it's not just hell establishments he attends; If there's someplace to gamble away his earnings, he's there,” Finch sputters his confession. 

“And Mills? Does he attend those as well?” “Yes,” The younger lad answers his senior instantly.

Ambrose just hums in return.

Just finishing his task, he aims for his cousin; he wears an inexpressive face, his grey eyes darkened and vacant, with no light, no soul.

“Wait, wait! I told you what you wanted!” Finch pleas. He could run, but in retrospect, how far can he go? Ambrose has a fucking rifle. He’s a good shot, no, an excellent shot. Hell! It’s borderline impossible how he always hits his targets, especially with how hard it is to aim for those things. Finch is panicking; his cousin has already pushed the first trigger. The nervous lad just accepts it; what else could he do? He closes his eyes, expecting his death to come quickly, then he hears a gunshot…

And he's fine…? Another Grey partridge falls from the sky right before him, its dead eye looking at the twenty-year-old.

Ambrose’s gun aims towards the sky. He lowers it. Then he casually approaches the stunned male, who lets out a staggered sigh, relieved he escaped death by a hair. Ambrose looks down at Finch, grabbing his shoulder and leaning in close. “Don’t ever fucking lie to me ever again, especially when the topic concerns my love.” Finch nods rapidly, shaking like a leaf. “Of course, sir, sorry.” Then, the older male releases his shoulders. “Good. Gift those birds to a peasant; perhaps they’ll make dinner with it, oh, and the rabbit, too. Say I have decided to help my community or something along those lines.” He looks at the sky. “I have a woman blessed by aphrodite to court.” His smile is bright, contrasting how he was a mere few seconds ago. He pats his younger cousin’s back and leaves the forest– The lifeless Grey partridge stares back at Finch, and he stares back.

Social calls…How dreadful. Worse is conversing with Lord Barton. He’s a bore, vulgar, and has an underlying inconsiderate, bitter personality. Having your mother as a chaperone does not make the situation any more bearable. 

 “Have you ever pondered about the future?” he inquires.

What kind of wet rag question is that? 

You put on a gentle smile. “Of course I have. Since I was a chit, I would read the local papers with my father-” He cuts you off “Children.” You look at him in confusion. “Pardon?”

The gentleman looks at you like you’re the biggest dunce in the country. “Children, how many children do you wish for? It would be sensible for us to have eight or ten,” “Hah…well…” you lift the tea cup to your mouth.

The man has no decorum…

After that fiasco, you decided to take a stroll downtown, and perhaps you’ll get a book from the local store, some new fabrics from a linen draper, or even some oils. Your pin money given to you by your parents could only cover one item... what a conundrum….

“Do tell me why the viscount’s only daughter is doing without a chaperone?” He leans against the brick wall, arms crossed, his smile beaming.

“Lord Howard, have you dropped your hunting hobby in exchange for stalking?” He chuckles. “Witty as always, but dare I disappoint? I was just strolling about my day and coincidentally saw you– Perhaps fate has decided for us to meet?” He pushes himself off the wall and offers his arm. Was it coincidence or fate…? No, it was none; it was all Ambrose, him asking your fellow lady peers about your whereabouts. Then, wandering near whatever local shops would possibly pique your interest. Memories play in his head, such as when you both were young and would rendezvous at the local forest. You would acquire many hobbies when you were younger– your mother said you would have a higher chance of obtaining a suitor with diverse skills. He would remember them and watch you in amazement when you talked about them. 

You made him feel human. You made him feel alive. His father was never a loving one; he gained the son he wanted, and his heir then wanted nothing more to do with him. The only attention Ambrose earned from The Earl was if he needed reprimanding. Every laugh that was too loud, every fork that he unitized improperly, every action, small or big, was scrutinized. His mother was a vacant husk of a woman at home and a social butterfly in the public eye; she watered herself down to being a wife and a mother. She was neither. He detested both of them and hated that damned empty feeling of his soul and heart that matched his vacated house; he felt nothing. His world was as grey as his eyes.

Till he met the colourful Viscount’s daughter– If he got kicked by a horse and lost his memory, he would still somehow remember the day you two met—the memory ingrained in his bones, body, and soul. On the way to your estate, the stately carriage was soundless and suffocating, as if the air was thick. Ambrose remembers how he bore his eyes into his obsidian-polished boots, wishing for the minutes to pass faster.  

You were a naive hoyden the first time you introduced yourself; you forgot to say his title and yours. Using his common name and giving him an oh-so-sweet genuine smile, he hadn’t ever seen such an authentic smile for him and only him—not for his parents nor his riches. Just him. Your parents scolded you while apologizing profusely for your ‘disrespect.’ Before his parents could utter something backhanded yet elegant, Ambrose smiled. He didn’t know he could do that. For the first time, the young boy speaks up; he feels this protectiveness over you. But, at the moment, Ambrose couldn't care less about his father's punishment that would soon come; the only thing that mattered was you, and soon he’d found out that it would always be you.

An airy laugh escapes you. “Do you wish for us to be caught in a scandal every time we meet?” He raises a faux, worried face and voice. “Me?!? As a future Earl, I am fulfilling my gentlemanly duties by escorting a fine young lady and keeping her from potential dangers. What’s so scandalous about that?” You take his arm. “You’re far from sane, My Lord.”

“For you, My lady? I hope so,” He says proudly with his chest out.

A comfortable silence lulls you as you look at how the sun hits the trees, people, and him. The sun's rays lighten his dark brown hair, blessing it with an orange hue and grey eyes, becoming Iridescent, more akin to a pearl.

“The latest on dit says Lord Barton has called for your company?” He inquires 

Your face grimaces at just the sound of his name. As much as you loathe the man, he is a viable suitor with good money and an excellent reputation, but a suitable suitor does not equate to a good man. “He’s…an interesting individual…” His jaw clenches. You’re not being open as he wants; you’re holding back…he hates that you might be hiding something. Not you per se but that damned rake Patrick. “He’s a rake,” he spits out, and you gaze at him. He’s uncharacteristically serious.

You smile. “He is,” Ambrose turns his head to you, returning your smile.

“Quite the feat to dissect the woman you are trying to woo as well.” The gentleman’s eyebrows furrow. “He did not,” you huff. “Oh, he did!” Ambrose stops in his tracks and mummers your name softly. “If you would only permit it, Allow me to court you,” You raise an eyebrow at the sudden question, “Pardon?” He continues, “That bastard doesn’t deserve you.” “And you do?” he chuckles. “No, but I’ll do everything you ask me to, then maybe one day I'll deserve you; you wish for dresses? I'll buy you the tailor and store. Money is far from an issue. Heavens, ask for the world, and I'll give you it with the stars and beyond as accessories.” He turns his whole body to you, his hands finding yours, his leather gloves causing a barrier between your soft ones.

He hates that 

“Ambrose…” 

“Please…only if you’ll allow me.”  The love-sick man entreated “But what about the other more suitable ladies? I’ve heard-” “I do not care for them,” He interrupts you. “Every second I was apart, I only longed for you. The only reason I kept my studies up was to be the perfect suitor equal to you.” He caresses your knuckles. The butterflies in your stomach flutter more after each word spills out of his mouth. Your relationship with Ambrose was vague at most. You couldn’t put your finger on it; every time you were in his presence, you had this comfort no one else could recreate. You were hesitant to put a label onto it, and maybe you feel this way because he was the only man you truly felt you could be yourself with. 

“If you wish to court me, you must’ve thought to ask my father for permission rather than myself.” 

“I could’ve,” He pauses, “But I'd rather ask you first; I need your permission. I am not marrying your father, am I? I need to hear you wish for me as much as I yearn for you,”  

You amuse the thought. Ambrose is a prick at times, his teasing relentless, but despite that, he’s charming, sincere, soothing, and protective. He’s a good man, indeed. 

“I’ll bite, My lord.” “Please do.” He smirked, masking his nervousness.

You slap his hand lightly, reprimanding him, “Let me continue, you brute…I’ll allow you to court me.” “Truly?” he exclaims, Astonished. “Truly,” You nod meekly. In a haste, he kisses your bare hands, each knuckle, each finger. “I’ve been blessed indeed,” his voice is as blissful as a child receiving a sugary dessert. You yank your hands away from him, flushed from his actions. “You dog, we are in the public,” you scold him. “I shall make it up to you in our next outing; I vow,” You swear you could see a wagging tale behind him. You sigh. 

The day went on, and by sundown, Ambrose had hired a post-chaise for the both of you despite your protests of you living just around the corner. He claimed he had ‘Earl-like duties to attend to’ and you were just on the route back either way. As a gentleman should, he dropped you off promptly; as he left in the carriage, away from your estate, you softly ran your fingers over your knuckles. A smile adorns your face. “What an oaf,” you whisper to yourself. A fond grin decorates Ambrose’s face, a few giggles even, but as euphoric this day was, he did have business to attend to. A certain lord has decided to make his lacklustre presence known, and Ambrose couldn’t celebrate until he exterminated said pest.

Gentleman’s clubs were boisterous, loud, and untrustworthy. The men here are just as vile as the feed that is fed to pigs. The soon-to-be-Earl disliked them and only engaged in them because he needed to build his reputation. He may be judgemental, but he isn’t an idiot. Others may regard him as a friend, but for him, he could care less for it. The males around him start to recognize Ambrose, yelling pleasantries, which he would return and shut down politely or…as politely as he could in his eyes. A booming voice reverberates against the wall of the finely furnished building, only belonging to the one and only Patrick Barton. Unconsciously, a scowl appears on the young man’s face. Ambrose knew more than he led on about Patrick; he heard whispers of Barton’s hobby in the mills, rigging the boxing matches that were bid on by elites and peasants alike. Word says he would pay one of the desperate participants to lose on purpose– word is bound to escape one day or another. It is not a sustainable income source. Yet another reason Lord Barton is not fit for you.

Ambrose walks towards the table where the bastard sits, narrowing his eyes.

Lord Barton and his goons recognize the lord approaching them. Barton speaks first: “Lord Howard! Is it a blue moon? What on earth might’ve convinced you to come out of that dreadful estate?” He laughs, arranging some snuff onto the mahogany to snort. “Perhaps it’s because you plan on courting his woman.” a nameless male inquires. “No, could it be? I don’t blame you, Ambrose; she is a fine woman, isn’t she? She is just in need of training,” another male said, joining in. “So does every woman in this country.” Another chuckle escapes the vulgar lord. 

Ambrose’s leather gloves wrinkle. His fist clenched to prevent him from beating the man in front of him into a pummel. He has a plan, the grey-eyed man repeats in his head. Then he forces a smile on his face. “On the contrary, I've decided to pick up a new gambling hobby; why not ask the man of the hour himself for advice? Or even a game or two.” Ambrose signals a servant and orders drinks for the table. The man in question gets up, slapping Ambrose on his back. “Atta boy, never let a woman come between men; let bygones be bygones, what a joyance plan! Come, come.” The night continues, and Patrick is as drunk as the rest of the men in the club; Ambrose, the gentleman he is, offers him to join his carriage in his words. 'Let’s start this newfound friendship off with a bang.' Cold water hits the once-drunken lord, and he awakens, gasping for air on the cold textured ground. ‘Where am I?’ he thinks, discombobulated, looking around and grasping his situation. The dark forest surrounds him, almost engulfing him; the trees blow along with the wind, and the creatures of the night rustle in the background. A voice comes from the shadows, luring him away from his racing thoughts, “Gunpowder is such a messy substance, but did you know a man invented a gun powered by air? What a time to be alive! How revolutionary!” Patrick looks at the man, most of his body consumed by the darkness of nightfall, the moon only making his grey eyes visible. 

“Ambrose, what the utter fuck-” “Don’t interrupt.” He says sternly. “As I was saying, a gun powered by air,” He continues. “A watchmaker of all things invented it; how preposterous! He eliminated gunpowder entirely and named this new gun  Windbüchse or, I know you only know English, so pardon me, I'll translate, wind gun.”  

“It’s far better than my hunting rifle; the tedious thing is quite a hassle to reload. But this wind gun can load much faster, 20 rounds a minute! Compared to the other, it is much quieter. It's a shame its range is far smaller.” The man standing pouts. “But all is well. The Austrian army decided to order thousands of supplies, and it’s fortunate I even got my hands on one.” Patrick squints, trying to distinguish Ambrose, and it finally sets in. In a forest he doesn’t know of, with a man who has a gun in his hand in the dead of night. Not just any man but a Lord known for his physical fitness and hunting expertise since he was a just a lad. 

Fuck

“If this is about your lady, Ambrose, you can have her! There’s no need to do this!” Patrick tries to reason with the love-sick lord, yet it's no use. The other man scoffs, “I’ve always detested men like you, greedy, hypocritical. Ready to jump boat when things get too tough for your liking– where is your backbone? Where is your spine? Your pride?” Ambrose circles the pain-filled man on the ground. “You never deserved to even be in her presence; you aren’t even entitled to breathe the same air as her,” He then spontaneously kicks Patrick's ribs, causing him to curl up on a ball, yelping. Ambrose looks down at the pathetic man. “But, I am a fair man, unlike you, so I'll give you a chance to run while I read you the note I have written in your writing announcing your hasty departure after news of your rigging in the mills comes to light, your writing was not hard to duplicate as well; who knew mother’s penmanship lessons would come in handy,” He chuckles.

 “Now run, monkey, while you still can.” He sets the trigger and then turns the spindle of his gun clockwise till a clicking sound can be heard, indicating he doesn’t need to turn it anymore. Ambrose opens the barrel, puts in an 8.5 mm bullet, and then shuts it. 

“I’m sure we can talk this out reasonably, money! I have money! Have it all; buy your woman something nice-” Patrick feels his thigh get warmer at first rather than the pulsing pain of a bullet shooting through his thigh that would soon follow shortly after. He screams.“To think you have the naivety to think I couldn’t fund my lover for generations on end,”

Ambrose rolls his eyes. “Scream louder; perhaps you’ll awaken a bear to save you,” yet again, he starts reloading his wind gun, faster at that, “I am not one to repeat himself nor give mercy. Run, rabbit.”

With adrenaline coursing through his body, Patrick runs…or well, attempts to. 

 Ambrose reaches into his waistcoat for the forged letter, clearing his voice to read it while his other hand holds his gun. Though his attention should be on the task at hand, he is utterly distracted by possible outing plans you would adore. Shall he go canoeing with you? Or a picnic? A carriage ride underneath the newly blooming cherry blossoms? Why not all three?  

Oh. how he longs to see you again.

Notes: I'm gonna be so honest, romance is the hardest thing to write for me. It's probably noticeable, forgive me (⇀‸↼‶) I had to do some research for this one, but it was a fun process learning more about Regency lingo and gun history. For my next full fic. I was thinking of a yandere! Cannibalistic 50's housewife, but idk….hehe…if you have any ideas send them to my inbox!! I'd like to say again THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT!!! Reading all your kind words makes my little shy heart soar (o^ ^o) see you soon, my little guppies!! 

#losersirencaught #anon ask #if you saw me post this before no you didnt #male yandere #oc x reader #yandere blog #x reader #yandere drabble #yandere imagines #yandere male x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere x darling #yandere #yandere thoughts #yandere x reader #yandere male #soft yandere #yandere x female reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x you

[bangaveragewhitewine]

baby, do you want to come home with me?

Eddie Munson x Reader

Giving in to the tension feels good

Word count: 702

Contents: Making out. Pre-smut and getting handsy in a bathroom. Female reader (one use of 'her'). Title from Wet Dream, by Wet Leg.

Author’s note: This has been sitting half-finished in my docs named 'untilted eddie make out' for well over a month. It's barely read-over or edited, but here you go, Eddie girls. Come get your man!

His breath is hot against your lips, tinged with smoke and hops. That smokey scent blends with spicy aftershave and the earthy fug of green. Every molecule of you feels aflame, sparked by the slide of his tongue against yours and the gentle command he leads with. He is addictive and you need another taste. 

After weeks of tension building, attraction growing stronger each time you saw each other instead of waning, you both gave in tonight. And oh are you glad you did. 

Eddie smiles when your mouths meet again; another deep kiss to make you melt between him and the scuffed brick wall at your back. He holds you tighter, closer, and presses up against you to make sure you don’t trickle away into a puddle or twirl off back to the dance floor with your ‘come get me’ eyes. He wants you a little longer and fancies his chances of getting to take you home tonight. 

He need not worry; the only place you're going is to find a cab, then home to your place or to his. The music is less loud here, but the base rumbles between your twisted-together bodies.

You can feel him, thick and hard and warm against you through double layers of denim - his and hers. There is buttery leather and surprisingly soft curls beneath your fingers, the sharp line of his flexed jaw and the cool hardware on his jacket. He makes you feel greedy for wanting all of it, all of him, the soft and the hard parts (but especially the hard part tonight). 

He makes this little noise when you tug his hair and his jaw falls slack when your nails catch on his scalp just right. You make a note of that for later as he licks into your mouth again, making you keen for him as he pairs that slow deep slide with the firm press of his thigh between your legs that feels so good. Your hips take up a slow roll, encouraged and steadied by his hand at the top of your ass and the perfect press of your jeans right there.

You’re not sure where he begins or where you end anymore, with blurred edges and winding limbs even when you break for breath briefly. A hammering fist on the door is just about enough to halt your kisses - but only after a couple of tries on the handle and an unsuccessful first knock. 

“Hello?!! Come on, man, I need to piss!” 

“Hold the fuck on.” 

Eddie’s voice is rough, a sharp pissed-off bark that echoes around the bar bathroom as you hide your warm face against his chest and give in to a dose of the giggles.

“Somethin’ funny?” he asks, soft just for you. 

His smile is stained with your lipstick, and you do your best to swipe the worst of it away with your thumb as you float back down to earth. He does a little to fix the smear below your lip, tender from kissing and the nip of Eddie’s sharp teeth. 

“I think they’re going to know…” you murmur, resisting the urge to take one more taste for yourself.

There will be no hiding it from whoever is banging on the door, whoever is queued up behind them with their full bladders and baggies of coke. It was not like either of you were subtle enough to fool your friends, even before you both disappeared together tonight. Not with your matching stained mouths, or Eddie’s tighter-now jeans. Not when you leave together tonight and arrive for breakfast together in the morning.

“Is that so bad?” 

You give in to that need for one more kiss, slow and sweet unlike the last one. It says enough to answer his question. 

Loud music and the sound of your own heart beating hard are not quite enough to drown out the complaints and wolf-whistles as you leave the locked bathroom together. Eddie leads again with confidence, bolstered by your lipstick on his face and your hand in his back pocket. Neither of you miss how the table of your friends raise their bottles and glasses as you pass them, a few bills exchanged for bets placed as you go find that cab and decide ‘your place or mine?’ 

Thank you for reading 🖤 Reblogs, likes & comments are loved and cherished

#eddie munson #bangaveragefics #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fic #eddie munson smut

[hawkinsbnbg]

See, Eddie had always been bad at flirting if not a disaster at it. And it didn't help when he had a bad habit of going dumb around Steve Harrington—the boy of his dream, the muse of his soul, the sun of his flowers, and the light of his life.

At this point, it was inevitable that whatever he managed to say to Steve always ended up sounding awkward or worse, ominous.

"Why are you staring?" Steve cocked an eyebrow at him, hazel eyes gleaming in amusement.

They were having a movie night at the Munson’s new apartment after holding one at Steve’s just last week.

And as usual, Eddie’s attention was on the other boy, unable to stop gazing at that lovely face.

Sometimes, Eddie still felt like he was hallucinating whenever he hung out with Steve. Because, never in his wildest dream, he would see himself being friends with King Steve.

And yet, against all odds, after surviving Hell together, they had become fast friends and stayed like that for months. These days, Eddie could confidently say that he was Steve's best friend besides Robin.

Then again, he was quite sure Steve wouldn't give him The Moves™️—lips biting, eyes glancing up through lashes, knees squeezing, hips knocking, hands holding—if they were just friends.

So. Flirting.

If only Eddie was all suave and smooth, he bet they would be boyfriends by now, and not whatever that had been going on between them these last few months.

Sorry for staring but your eyes are so beautiful; they’re the most priceless gemstones in the world, sweet candies that I want to possess, a hazel sky that I want to keep drowning in, was all Eddie wanted to say.

But instead, he blurted out. "I wanna lick your eyeballs.”

Horrified, Eddie slapped a hand over his mouth before quickly correcting his grave mistake.

"Wait– I didn't mean that," he flailed his hands around in panic and tried to explain to a wide-eyed Steve. "I meant, I want to keep your eyes to myself– No, that sounds so creepy, oh my god–"

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Steve straightened from his comfy position on the couch and held Eddie's hands gently. "Calm down, Eds. Just take your time. I promise I won't go anywhere."

Eddie nodded, heart beating fast under the attention of those warm and kind doe-eyes.

Eventually, he got a grip on himself and turned his hands so he could lace them with Steve. Theirs were about the same size but always fitted so well together like gloves.

Eddie looked up to meet Steve's patient gaze. He took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The success rate was sixty percent, which was enough for him to work with.

"I uhm, like your eyes a lot,” he cleared his throat slightly. “So can I take you on a date tomorrow?"

In a fleeting second, he feared for a rejection. But then, Steve smiled at him, sweet and pretty, and Eddie was done for.

"My shift lasts until four, so you can pick me up then," Steve gave his hands a light squeeze.

Overwhelmed with joy, Eddie pulled the other boy into his lap to kiss him silly.

Later, they moved into Eddie's bedroom to continue their making out session without worrying about being walked in on by Wayne.

He hunched over Steve with those long legs wrapping around his lower back, and kept peppering Steve's face with kisses because he could never have enough of him.

"Should've," a kiss on the forehead. "Done," a kiss on the eyelid. "This," a kiss on the nose. "Sooner," another kiss on the cheek.

Steve giggled and threaded his fingers into Eddie's hair to pull him down into another tender kiss.

When they parted again, they were both blushing and panting.

Eddie had to refrain himself from grinding against Steve, knowing he wouldn't be able to keep his pants on once he succumbed to the siren's call.

Steve didn't share the same sentiments as him, however, when those legs tightened and forced Eddie to scoot in closer, making their clothed erections press into each other.

Even through multiple layers of denim, Eddie still felt the delicious friction that lit him up like wildfire.

"God, you're killing me, sweetheart," Eddie groaned and pecked those pouty lips, red and swollen like sin.

"Haunt me then," Steve whispered and rolled his hips, tempting and alluring. "Make me remember."

Eddie didn't say anything. He didn't need to. He just surrendered himself to the siren's call and got lost in the sweet paradise that was Steve Harrington.

Afterward, as Eddie was stroking Steve's naked back absently, he pressed a kiss on Steve's forehead.

"Think we should take it slow, baby?"

"If that's what you want, Eds," Steve shrugged slightly. Then, in a small voice, he glanced up from where he was pillowing on Eddie's chest. "You'll tell me if I move too fast, 'kay?"

"The last thing I'm gonna complain about is you, baby boy," Eddie snorted and tucked a stray hair behind Steve's ear. "I just wanna hear your opinions about our relationship is all."

This time, it was Steve's turn to snort. "Haven't been on a date yet, and here we're already talking about our relationship."

"Yeah," Eddie chuckled. "We're kinda doing things out of order right now," he gave Steve's forehead another small kiss. "But you were an impatient little thing, sweetheart. Can't imagine what you would've done to me if I hadn't given in earlier."

"Don't pretend like you haven't been desperate to lay your hands on me," Steve rolled his eyes with a quiet huff.

"Keep doing that and you're gonna see how desperate I am, doll face," Eddie said huskily.

"Is that a threat?" Steve raised his eyebrow in challenge, hazel eyes gleaming impishly. "Because it's not working on me, honey."

Eddie's lips stretched into a wide grin and before Steve could taunt him again, he started tickling the other boy.

In the end, Steve had won the tickle war and Eddie had blown him off as a reward.

To no one’s surprise, they managed to go through another round, and by the time they finished, Steve was too out of it to tease Eddie anymore.

The morning after, he had woken up with Steve in his arms.

Once Steve roused, they had made out a bit too long in the bed, exchanged toes-curling handjobs in the bathroom, and had breakfast together with Wayne before leaving for work.

When the time rolled in, Eddie might be a bit too eager to give Steve everything, because he had gone a little overboard for their date night.

But all in all, Steve had enjoyed the dinner Eddie prepared and given him the most legs-shaking blowjob ever when they were watching TV on the couch.

Later that night, having Steve snore blissfully in his arms, Eddie decided that the date was more than a success.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie is a simp #disaster gay eddie munson #but also #smooth eddie munson #when he finally got his shit together #sionewrites

[cosmos-coma]

Glass Desks

A/N: Just a silly little scene I've had in my head for bit now since I work as an occasional house cleaner to try and get by. I got surprised by someone coming in on my last clean and just had to turn it into something.

Pairing: Mafia! Bucky Barnes x House Cleaner! Reader

Words: 1,055

Bucky Masterlist

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___________________

A sigh escaped Bucky as he ran a hand down his face. He was supposed to have meetings all day today- ones important enough that he’d rearranged everything around them- yet within the first two hours something had already come up and his associates were forced to reschedule.

“Hey, boss? We’re here…” Sam said from the driver’s seat, pulling him out of his thoughts and making him look up at the large empty house before him.

His empty house.

He wouldn’t trade his line of work for the world, truly, but between both the secretive and potentially violent nature of his job, it didn’t exactly leave much room for pleasant company. 

He sighed again as he stepped out, “Thanks Sam…. That should be all for today, but I’ll call if I need you.” He said and patted the roof twice before it pulled away. 

Making his way up the stairs toward the entrance, all seemed normal at first glance- that is until he spotted an unfamiliar car parked around the side. 

It was an old car, parked out of the way in the shade- not quite a beater- but they definitely didn’t make its model anymore. It was non-descript and would blend in with a crowd if needed, but more importantly: it wasn’t one of his. 

He moved toward the door with far quieter steps now, listening intently for the intruders. Multiple voices came from inside as if trying to talk over each other in layered tones. Chairs and doors clunked and creaked as they were moved about, followed by the moving voices- were people searching for something? 

Instinctively his hand found the gun in his jacket. ‘Sam didn’t say anything as he left… Did he really not notice the car? No-Sam was one of his best men… Maybe he already knew they were here..?’ Bucky thought.

Either way, he wasn’t taking any chances; his fingers closed around the gun’s handle as he cracked open the door, the weapon a comfortable and familiar weight in his hand. His steps were silent as he entered, their practiced paces unknown to anyone but him. 

However, instead of finding an enemy gang searching for secrets he found…. You. 

You were hard at work in your own little world as you went about cleaning the second floor. You bobbed and sang along to the music emanating from your back pocket, your voice layering over the original as the rags half tucked in your belt swayed with you. The mobster couldn’t help but crack a smile. 

He had completely forgotten. Usually, on days when he was meant to be out of the house for hours on end, you would be scheduled to come clean. But apparently, no one had informed you about the change of plans.

You had been hired on as his house cleaner a few months ago, helping him keep things together while work kept him endlessly busy. But despite having been on the payroll for a while now, he still hadn’t found the time to officially meet you- that is, until now.

He couldn’t deny that you looked… rather silly if he was being honest, but your unparalleled passion only made it all the more endearing. His head shook with a faint smile as he watched as you moved into his office. Shutting the door behind him with a soft click, he was halfway up the second-floor stairs when he heard you suddenly break away from your song. 

“Ugh…,” you sighed loudly to yourself, still thinking you were the only one in the room, “what kind of an asshole has a glass desk? I mean, really- Do you have stock in Windex? Is that what it is???” You asked snarkily to no one in particular, but this was too good for Bucky to pass up.

“Not yet. Should I?” The mobster found himself biting back his laughter as he leaned against the office doorway behind you. 

“At this rate? You should really-“Your mouth clamped shut faster than it ever had before, your entire body freezing on the spot as his response finally processed. Your eyes were wide as saucers as your thoughts ran on a panicked loop ‘Oh no, oh god, oh shit, oh fuck. you really just had to insult the infamous White Wolf of New York… In his own home… In front of his own men… Are you STUPID??’ you yelled at yourself internally and quickly put on a brave face, turning off your music and turning to the unfamiliar voice behind you.

Your stomach nearly dropped as you realized it was not only “one of his men” it was, THE man. You instantly recognized him from the few photos scattered around the house; the sharp stubbly jaw and blazing blue eyes were unmistakable, not to mention the hint of the metallic arm you caught between his suit sleeve and glove. You couldn’t deny he was handsome- even more so in person than he was in his photos.

“Mr. Barnes…!” Your voice squeaked out, but he just held his same amused smile, looking anything but upset. “I, uh… I thought you had meetings all day today- I didn’t mix up the date, did I..?”

“Not at all…” he said with a quiet laugh. “My meetings got rescheduled part way though, so I thought I’d spend the evening working from home. Little did I know it’d be the perfect place to get financial advice too.” 

Your face burned with embarrassment as you relived the very recent moment yet again, “Right, uh, about the whole ‘asshole’ thing, I-” 

But he simply waved you off, “Don’t. It’s refreshing to get an authentic opinion, and honestly? I don’t even like that desk.” He admitted, his heart stirring in new ways as your whole body relaxed and he could finally see you as you usually were, “and, ah… if you wanted to stay for a while, I sure wouldn’t mind the company- I could use a little advice in the stock market.”

You bit your lip to hold back your grin, you wouldn’t get too ahead of yourself, “Oh, me? I don’t know if I’d really be suitable company while I’m cleaning.” 

A thought seemed to pass over him then as he nodded in agreement, “Hm, you’re right..” he smiled, “Perhaps we should just have dinner then… how’s tonight?”

______

General Bucky Taglist:

@writingmysanity @simpxinnie @goldylions

If I missed or accidentally tagged you lmk! Wanna be added General Bucky taglist? Please ask/DM me!

#I want to do more mafia bucky eventually but it probably won’t follow the same characters #same reader I mean #mafia!bucky #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mob au #bucky fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #james bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes x y/n #james bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #james barnes x y/n #james barnes x you #james buchanan barnes x reader #james barnes x reader #James

[astroph1les]

make you mine | 4 | e.w

summary: when you and ellie are home alone, you tend to ellie’s wounds (again) and things get a lot more heated than you expected. hailee comes home in a rage when she finds out the truth about you and her bestfriend.

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

contains: sister’s best-friend!ellie, fluff, established relationship, mature content — smut including fingering (r!receiving), strap-on (r!receiving), sibling angst (that is resolved quickly)

word count: 4.8K

a/n: long ass last part for you guys. you deserve it, my loves. <3

FREE PALESTINE | DAILY CLICK | DO NOT BUY TLOU2 REMASTERED

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

The next two weeks were a blur of smitten kisses, secret touches, and sneaking around. You had to make up lies about hanging out and sleeping over at Dina’s when in reality, you were either in Ellie’s bed as she explained how she needed to nail these new kickflips and going on little dates around the town.

Vincent asked Hailee just yesterday if he could be her boyfriend. She had ecstatically said ‘yes’ and she’s been attached to the hip with him since.

You’ve never seen her take to someone so quickly other than… Well, Ellie. You had been making yourself some chicken salad for lunch when you heard a knock at the door. You set the fork down on a napkin right next to the bowl of your lunch and march to the front door.

As soon as you open the door, you smile at the expected guest.

“Hi, baby,” Ellie steps into the house, shutting the door behind her.

“Hi,” you breathe out with a giddy grin. “What have you been up to?”

She shrugged her shoulders before snapping her fingers and pointing at you. Her eyes were shamelessly trailing up and down your frame.

“I fell this morning and scrapped the fuck out of my side,” Ellie explained as she easily rests her palms on your hips.

You were wearing a sundress, surprisingly enough to yourself. Skirts and dresses were something that were a hit or miss for you but due to the heat today, you felt this particular sundress was the best option. It was a bohemian red and white floral mini-dress. Plus, Ellie couldn't keep her hands off of you.

Like she could pounce on you at any moment.

“Els, why didn’t you tell me anything earlier?” You frown as you look at her face.

You also notice a slight scrape under her chin. You shake your head and cup both sides of her soft and warm face, tilting it back ever so slightly.

“And your jaw? Fuck, Ellie,” you continue to shake your head as you run your thumb over the slight bruising.

“I’m okay. I just need my favorite nurse to help me out,” Ellie’s grin was wide and giddy as she squeezed your sides.

You playfully roll your eyes as you motion for her to follow you to the bathroom. Ellie reluctantly released her grasp on you to trail behind you like a love-sick puppy, her hands just ghosting yours that were clasped behind your back. Once the two of you entered the bathroom, you got all the supplies you needed for Ellie’s injuries.

“Alright, take off your shirt,” you motioned to the few layers she had on.

Ellie removed her brown flannel that had the sleeves ripped off, setting it down on the sink’s marble counter. You stop your movements as Ellie tugs off her black wife-pleaser to reveal her sports bra and the scraped skin on her toned hips, now only left in her baggy gray jeans. The sight of her toned body always throws you off guard. She always helped Joel with the little farm that they have in the backyard of his house; carrying around hay barrels for the few horses and pales of eggs from the chickens.

They were not as light as they looked.

She winces slightly as she adjusts her hips to face you, a bit of blood still seeping from the injuries. You kneeled in front of her to get a closer look at how deep and severe the cuts were. Ellie raised her brows but kept her comments to herself.

“Els, baby, that’s— fuck, I mean did someone push you?” You can’t help but wince as you dab the injuries with a cotton pad doused in hydrogen peroxide.

Ellie’s hips jerked as she glanced down at you.

“No, I tried landing a fucking double heel flip but got stuck on a piece of shit bar. I hit my jaw and slid on the concrete.” Ellie explained, sucking in a deep breath as she couldn't handle seeing you down on your knees anymore.

You heard the sharp suck-in from above you and you apologized softly, thinking it was because Ellie was in pain. You leaned forward to place a feather-soft kiss on her upper abdomen, standing up on your feet. The feeling of your lips grazing her skin nearly made Ellie’s knees give out.

“Do you want anything to eat? Are you hungry?” You hum as you cup the sides of her face, your thumbs tracing her jaw. “I was just making some chicken salad so if you want some of that, let me know.”

Ellie blinked at you before breathing out: “What are you doing?”

Your brows furrow, tilting your head.

“What do you mean?”

You knew exactly what Ellie was referring to. You’ve realized more than anything that Ellie is very easy to tease. Not to be a cocky bitch but she was obsessed with you. Ellie licked her lips, letting out a soft chuckle.

“You’re a fucking tease, you know that?” Ellie shook her head as her hands gripped your hips tightly.

“Are you gonna do something about it?” You hum, leaning in carefully testing the waters.

Ellie moved one of her hands up your side to then trace your bottom lip with the pad of her rough thumb. You instinctively took her thumb into your mouth, biting at the joint. You swore you could see something shift in Ellie’s eyes when your tongue swiped over the skin and sucked it gently. Ellie whispered a curse before removing her finger to cup the back of your neck, pulling you into a hungry kiss.

You gasp at the feeling, your panties dampen at her strong grip on your body. Your hands trail down from her shoulder to the waistband of her boxers-briefs that were peeking out from her jeans, being mindful of her small injuries.

Ellie moaned softly against your lips, pulling away for a moment so that she could get a good look at you.

You were panting softly, pupils blown and one of the straps to your dress falling off your shoulder.

Fuck, she could take a photo of you right now; Keep it in her wallet to show off how perfect her girl is.

“Before I let you do what you want, let me patch you up and put the chicken salad away,” you breathe out, rushing to take a huge band-aid that you had gotten after Ellie’s first incident.

“This feels familiar,” Ellie cheekily remarked as if she was reading your mind.

You let out a smitten chuckle as you leaned in to peck her lips three times exactly before spreading an ointment over her marks. Ellie’s toned stomach rose and fell rapidly, her eyes hungrily and impatiently trailing all over your body. Her hands were flexed at her hands, forcing her urges back to grab you and fuck you from behind, letting the sound of your soft and desperate moans send shivers down her spine.

“Do what you need to do, babe. Meet me back here in three minutes, yeah?” Ellie raised her brows as she cupped your jaw, tilting your chin up a little.

You nod at her words as that should give you plenty of time to get the chicken salad in the fridge and to take off your panties to make things easier. Ellie smiled at you with nothing but admiration and want, placing a sensual kiss on your lips as she jerked her head toward the bathroom door.

Oh, right. The chicken salad.

“Three minutes?” You question one last time, brushing back your flyaway hairs.

“Three minutes, gorgeous,” Ellie smirked.

You mutter it to yourself as you make your way out of the bathroom. Ellie was hot on your tail to give your ass a nice smack through the skirt portion of the dress, biting her lip when you simply turned your head to blush adorably at her. She made her way to the living room, rummaging through her plain black Converse backpack she had set down next to the couch.

The small time frame was a lot harder than you were expecting. Mostly because you’ve never realized how you can’t tell how long a minute is if you’re not counting down every second. You couldn't count down because your mind was clouded with Ellie.

Her shameless desire to have her hands on you, the sweet pet names she’d give you, and the way you thrived off of her compliments.

You shook your head as once you'd neatly packed away the delicacy in the fridge, you sprinted to your room to shimmy the borderline granny panties off of your lower half. You toss them in your laundry hamper and scurry back to the bathroom.

Ellie was leaning against the sink, arms crossed in front of her chest. The position made her biceps pop deliciously.

“Come here,” Ellie tilts her to you as you lean against the door, locking it smoothly.

You inch over to her with a shy smile, eyes glazed over with desire. Ellie reached forward to tug your hips forward towards her.

“Do you trust me?” Ellie questioned as her thumbs caressed your hips.

“Yeah, of course, Els,” you nod, your fingers twitching with anticipation.

Ellie tilted her head towards the sink’s countertop, a mischievous smirk on her pale pink lips.

“Hop up on there, baby,” Ellie placed a gentle kiss on your cheek, patting your ass over the dress.

You chuckled and did as she instructed, scooting back to get more comfortable. Ellie’s hands immediately found your plush hips and thighs, squeezing and loving the feeling of your skin in her palms.

“I know this isn’t, like, insanely romantic but can I… fuck you? I bought a strap, too, if you want to do that.” Ellie hesitantly asked, eyes patient for whatever you were going to respond with.

“Ellie,” you deadpanned, eyebrows raising in disbelief. “Do you know how badly I’ve wanted you to fuck me? I just want you. You can fuck me another time in bed with roses and shit.”

Ellie snorted at your words but felt more at ease like she wasn’t taking advantage or pushing you to do something you didn't want to do yet.

“I didn’t want to rush things with you but… god, if you could feel how wet I am right now.” You were visibly flushed and bothered by your infuriating arousal.

Ellie’s eyes widened for a moment, her own freckled cheeks igniting a flame. She needed to feel you. To make sure you were telling the truth, of course.

“Can I?” Ellie pants, rolling the ends of the skirt of your dress between her middle finger and thumb.

You whisper a confirmation, watching her intently as she begins to push the skirt up your legs. Your skin grew hot as Ellie’s blunt fingernails grazed the skin of your thighs. Ellie, to her surprise, didn’t feel any sort of restricting cloth once she got to your hips under the dress.

“You really are a minx, Jesus,” Ellie breathed out a smitten laugh, gripping at the skin once more.

“Baby, please. Touch me.” You grab at her tattooed wrist, inching it just above your pubic bone.

Ellie let out a curse under her breath at your begging. It was an even sweeter sound than she could ever imagine. She takes her free hand to grip your hips and tug you just an inch closer to the edge of the counter. You let out a soft sigh at the feeling of being manhandled by your girlfriend.

Without wasting any more time, Ellie drags her middle finger through your drenched folds. You lean your back against the cool mirror, a shiver running down your spine as she teases at your clit.

“Fuck, you weren't kidding. Are you always this wet when I tease you, hmm?” Ellie leaned forward to nose at your jaw, placing a wet kiss on the skin.

You nod, eyes shut as she slowly inserts her middle finger into you. The sound was obscene but neither you nor Ellie could get enough.

“You’re so pretty, Els. I can’t help it,” you sit up and off the mirror to change the angle a bit.

Ellie released a faint moan at your confession, silently scolding herself for keeping you from feeling good. Pretty, she thought. She gets wet from just seeing me.

“I’m gonna go slow right now, okay? Tell me if you want it faster,” Ellie placed a kiss on your cheek. “Harder,” another to your clavicle. “More fingers,” one more to just over the top of your left boob. “You tell me, okay?”

Have you said anything yet? You think so but you force yourself to whimper a soft ‘okay’. You already felt yourself drifting off into a state of bliss.

Ellie nods, feeling satisfied enough with your verbal answer. She slips her ring finger next to the middle, eyes watching you for any reaction. Your face was scrunched up in pleasure as Ellie’s forearm began to pump in and out of you. You gasp at the feeling, reaching forward to hold yourself steady on her flushed shoulders. Your hips grinned down on her fingers, heavy pants leaving your mouth.

Ellie used her free hand to tug down the front of your dress, your tits spilling out. She couldn't believe how fucking perfect you were in every way. She leaned down ever so slightly to kiss around your nipple as she continued to pump her fingers in and out, matching her pace to your whines and moans.

You caress the back of Ellie’s half-up half-down hairstyle as you watch her take your right nipple into her mouth. Your hips jerk as Ellie’s tongue swirls the bud in her mouth and her hand that wasn’t fingering you swiped over the left.

“Just like that, baby,” Ellie muttered against your tit, sucking on it and kissing over the full skin. “Keep moving those pretty hips.

You clench down on her at the praise as Ellie knowingly smiles against your chest. Cocky tease, you think to yourself. You grab her neck with both hands to pull her back up to your lips, hungrily kissing her like you couldn't bear without it.

Ellie pants into your mouth, teeth hitting yours for a moment as she is just as eager for you. Feeling overwhelmed by the sensation of Ellie’s fingers in you and her deep and sensual kisses, a tightening feeling settled in your lower abdomen.

“Els, faster. Please faster,” you whine against her swollen lips, a soft moan following.

Ellie didn’t have to be told twice, speeding up her arm. Her eyes hungrily watched as your mouth dropped in pleasure, the sound of your moans growing louder as she repeatedly hit your g-spot. Her arm was on fire but seeing you so pretty like this was the only thing keeping her going.

“That’s it, baby. Doin’ so perfect. My pretty girl,” Ellie praised you, kissing down your neck and nibbling on the skin.

You grab at her back as she does so, back arching to feel the pleasure all up your spine. Ellie started rubbing at your clit to get you to cum even faster. Your moans were becoming borderline pornographic as you came all over her two fingers.

“Oh my god, fuck. Shit! Ellie,” you whine as Ellie’s fingers are still moving, letting you ride out your orgasm. Your hand flung to her wrist as she smiled right in your face at your stuttering hips.

“There you go, pretty girl,” she placed soft kisses on your sweaty hairline through her sweet words.

A shiver runs down your body, goosebumps rising to your skin as Ellie carefully takes her fingers out of you. She sucks in a deep breath at the sight of her fingers dripping with your cum.

“Are you, uh, feeling okay? Do you need anything?” Ellie stared at your flushed face and chest, admiring how beautiful you looked coming down from your orgasm.

“I’m good, Els,” you reply softly, panting softly with a cocky smirk. You lean close to brush your lips over hers. “I just need you to fuck me, baby.”

Ellie’s eyes glance down at her baggy jeans then up at you again. Her eyebrows raise at your swollen lips.

“With the—“

“Mhmm. Can you please?” You chuckle at how flustered Ellie is getting now.

“Yeah, yeah, I can do that, baby.”

Ellie is about to reach for the button to her pants but you beat her to it, eyes never leaving hers. Ellie used this opportunity to kiss you with passion, tongue swiping over your bottom lip.

Your eyebrows shot up at the feeling of the silicone dildo and at the size of it.

“Jesus, Ellie, are you trying to reach my lungs with this?” You dramatize with a soft chuckle, just grazing your lips over hers.

“It’s only six inches!” Ellie teases before cocking her head to the side, “Or is that too big for you?”

You roll your eyes at her words before taking the stiff dildo out of the zipper. Ellie glanced down before gripping your plush thighs to tug you closer to the edge of the sink. You couldn’t get enough of Ellie’s strong and rough grip on you.

“Okay, pretty girl, you let me know if it hurts. Just want to make sure you feel good,” Ellie wrapped her lengthy fingers around the base of it.

The freckled girl lined the tip of her makeshift dick. She made sure to leave a loving kiss and a gentle whisper to let you know that she was going to be pushing in now. You inhale as you feel your walls slowly stretch from Ellie’s dick.

You whimper unknowingly to yourself, trying to relax so that Ellie could push herself all the way in. Ellie whispers sweet praises in your ear, her thumbs massaging your hips to ease the stretch.

“How’s that feel, baby?” Ellie asked gently.

“Full but good. So fucking good,” you chuckle through a moan, your hands cupping Ellie’s face.

Your middle finger traces over the scar in her eyebrow and the beautiful constellation of freckles all over her face. Her cheeks were hot to the touch, pupils blown from arousal. Her eyes soften at your gentle touch.

She looked almost angelic. Scratch almost. She did look angelic.

Ellie nodded at your confirmation, her hips slowly dragging in and out. You lift your right leg up and rest your calf on her hip to switch up the angle. Ellie placed her hand on the muscle of your calf, encouraging the new angle.

“Fuck, Ellie,” you whisper as Ellie picks up her pace.

Ellie’s own moans and whines were faint but you took them in like you needed them. The sound of them was driving you insane, the obscene sound of her hips slapping against yours. Your hands were clawing at her back as you were grinding your hips as much as you could.

Sweat was forming at the base of your neck and spine. Your lower abdomen was on fire and you were sure Ellie’s was even worse. You could see her abs tightening more and more with every deep thrust. You ran your fingers over her bandage and the ridges of her ribs, wishing she could be deeper and deeper in you.

Ellie sucked in a deep breath at the feeling of your fingers on her skin.

“Look at me, angel,” Ellie whispers. Angel. That’s a new one.

Your hooded eyes drifted from her body to her face. Her smile beamed at your fucked out face. Her hand rested just under your jaw to pull you into a messy kiss.

“You look so pretty like this,” she groans against your lips.

You preen at the praise and let out a whine that you knew sounded so pathetic. You couldn't care less as your girlfriend was fucking you so hard that you swore you were going to squirt.

Your hands were slipping into the back of her head and tangling up into her short auburn hair. Ellie shivered at the slight tug as she dove in to shamelessly suck a hickey onto your neck. You panted as the air in the enclosed bathroom space was getting hotter and hotter as the seconds passed by.

The feeling of the thick dildo hitting at your g-spot causes pornographic moans to leave your mouth. A familiar tightening feeling settled into your abdomen.

“Ellie, I’m gonna cum, please” you whisper, trying not to be as loud as your moans.

“Cum for me, baby. Doing so good for me,” Ellie pecked your hot and sweat-dried cheek.

As you were about to cum, you heard the front door slam shut. Both of your movements froze at the sound of your sister's angry voice echoing through the house.

“What the actual fuck?” Hailee shouted that you swore had rattled the framed photos in the restroom.

You muttered curses as you ushered Ellie to pull out of you, trying to make minimal noise as well. It hurt like a bitch but you had to make yourself look somewhat decent. Ellie shuffled to release you from her grasp. You tug the skirt of your dress back down your thighs and hurry to wipe the smudged mascara from underneath your eyes.

Hailee calls for you again to which you look at Ellie with a panicked expression.

“Stay in here. Don’t say a thing and keep quiet.” You beg her, making sure to peck her lips once to show her you didn’t mean to be bossy or mean.

Ellie nods and gives you a tight-lipped smile. You tug the bathroom door open, wiping over your mouth once as you whip your head around to find your sister.

“Hails?” You call out.

Seconds later, you hear footsteps come from the area of your bedroom. Hailee stands in front of you and damn it, she looks more pissed than the time she failed her driver’s test.

The first time.

Her hands were on her hips and her chest was heaving up and down in anger.

“I’m gonna ask you something and if you lie to me, I will punch you straight in your fucking teeth,” Hailee spoke at an eerily calm volume.

“Okay…?” You reply, entirely confused by her angered state.

“Are you and Ellie together?” She blurts out, eyes wide in anticipation. “Fuck buddies, dating, whatever you two are just… can you tell me yes or no?”

What.

How did she find out? Who told her? Not Jesse, no. Dina? No, no, no definitely not.

Who fucking told her?

“Hails,” you start, shutting your eyes as you step closer to her.

“Oh my fucking god. It’s true. Are you fucking kidding me?” Hailee grabbed a throw pillow from the couch and hit you upside the with it.

You let out a gasp and looked at her in disbelief. Is she 12?

“Can you not hit me so we can just talk about it? Please, Hails.”

She hit you again upside the other side of your head. You huff out an annoyed sigh, rubbing at your temple. You open your mouth to say something snarky when you hear a muffled clatter from the bathroom.

Hailee’s eyes dart in the direction of the bathroom when she hears a soft mutter. Her eyes widen as she lets out a scoff and marches over to the door. You try to call after her but she jerks open the door to reveal a hunch over Ellie picking up the supplies you had forgotten to put away.

Her body tenses as she slowly stands upright, making eye contact with your sister.

“Hailee,” Ellie begins but your sister is quick to throw the pillow at Ellie's head.

Ellie merely scrunched up her face in embarrassment, clearing her throat and scratching behind her ear. You notice her nose scrunch up before she groans out, shaking her head.

“Were you two getting it on when I came home?” Hailee’s voice was laced with disgust.

The silence from you and Ellie told her everything she needed to know. You picked at your nails nervously, making eye contact with Ellie from behind your sister's figure.

“You,” she pointed at Ellie and turned to you with a scowl on her face, “and you are sick. The both of you. How long have you two been lying to me about this… thing you have going on?”

“A month.” Ellie carefully sighs out.

You suck in a deep breath as the two of you wait patiently for Hailee’s reaction. She was frighteningly still as she stared at Ellie who was anxiously fiddling with the bracelet you had gifted her a while back.

“How long were you going to keep this from me? Hmm?” Hailee whipped her head to stare at you now.

You froze at her angry glare but somehow managed to answer.

“Hails, I don’t know exactly when but we knew you would… Well, do this.”

“What? Freak out? Be dramatic?” Hailee lists off as she folded her arms in front of her ribbed tank top. “I’m sorry that I’m ‘being dramatic’ that my best friend since 6th grade and my sister have been lying to me about their secret relationship. I had to find out when Bella told me today that she was happy for you and Ellie.”

You shut your eyes and rub at your temple at Hailee’s tempered words.

“She saw you guys out on a date and kissing and holding hands and shit.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence between the three of you. No one knew what to say next. You felt guilt settle in your chest.

“Hailee,” Ellie began, which caused your sister to flinch and take a step back from her. “Hails, we never wanted to hurt you, okay? I… really like her. I’ve liked her since we were in junior high but always pushed those feelings away because of you. You’re my best friend and I didn’t want to risk my friendship with you. Look, I’m sorry that we lied to you and kept it a secret. We wanted to make sure that this would work.”

“Does it?” You speak up softly, looking at Ellie with nothing but admiration in your eyes.

Ellie’s eyes softened in your direction, a shy smile on her lips now. “Yeah, it does.”

Hailee kept looking between you two like she was contemplating on what to say. Whether she should blow up or come to an understanding.

“God, this is gonna be every day now, isn’t it?” Hailee groaned and covered her face with her hand.

“You’re not—“ You began with furrowed brows.

“— Mad? Yeah, I definitely am but,” Hailee sucked in a deep breath. “You two mean a lot to me and you make each other happy. I will not pick between you two if you break up though.”

Ellie smiled at Hailee then flickered her eyes over to you.

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair,” you nod as you blush under Ellie’s gaze.

“Alright, I’m gonna go to my room because you two are blatantly eye-fucking each other,” Hailee grimaced and leaned over to Ellie to hug her. She whispers in Ellie’s ear laced with a sickenly sweet tone. “You hurt her and I will break every single skateboard in your room, Williams.”

Ellie’s eyes widen before she pats Hailee’s back with a tinge of fear.

“Yeah, love you, Hails.”

“Love you, Els.” Hailee grinned as she turned to you and threw a punch to your shoulder once.

You gasp at the sudden force and just nod.

“Okay, yeah. Are you done?” You rub over the skin and glare at her.

Hailee hummed in thought before shrugging her shoulders.

“For now. I’ll leave you guys alone to… talk. Just talk, okay? I’m home now.” Hailee warned you and Ellie before scurrying off to the bedroom upstairs.

You and Ellie wait until you hear the bedroom door click closed before you burst into soft giggles. Ellie walked over to you to capture your lips into a gentle kiss.

“Fuck, that was single-handedly one of the most embarrassing conversations I’ve ever had.” You murmur onto her lips, cupping her face.

“Yeah, but,” Ellie pulled away to wrap her fingers around your wrists. “I’m kind of glad. It was sort of killing me not being able to tell people.”

Your eyes soften at her confession, rubbing your thumb over her warm cheeks.

“Me too, honestly. I would’ve preferred for us to just tell her but it's out now. We’re…?”

As you trailed off, you realized you and Ellie never had that conversation. The rhythm and pace of your relationship was so perfect you didn’t even think about the ‘label’ talk.

“Girlfriends?” Ellie questioned, tilting her head to the side.

You beam and nod to confirm: “Girlfriends sounds more than good.”

Ellie began to cover your face in gentle kisses, feeling like she was on a permanent high. Giddy laughter left your lips and Ellie decided she right there and then that she wanted to make you laugh like that forever. To make you hers.

She’d do whatever it takes to keep you this happy.

tag-list: @elliezlils11utt @seraphicsentences @alesbianperson @21slurp-blog @vqxen @mikellie @boobdrug @macaroni676 @elliesprettygirl @plutolovesyouu @cinnamonmilf @sc0ttstre3ted

#wlw #ellie williams #sapphic #wlw smut #wlw fanfic #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #tlou2 fanfic

[koenigami]

➵ WRIOTHESLEY synopsis : how does one express such a strong feeling like love when someone like him is involved? wc : 1k tags : fem!reader, fluff, smut, emotional reader who is very bad with words of affirmation

you don’t get how he does it so easily. how he manages to make your heart beat faster, your face heat up, body react and get aroused. his words hold such a great power over you, especially so because he has proved to you many times that they’re not empty promises. 

wriothesley has shown you his love in all kinds of forms and ways. whether that be in your bedroom, or in more appropriate situations. 

and you’re so jealous. 

because as he keeps one hand on your ankle, with your leg perched on his shoulder, while the other is putting the slightest pressure on your abdomen - you wonder why you can’t convey your feelings to him the way that he does. directly. honestly. in the heat of the moment and without any filter. but you simply can’t. 

expressing your feelings verbally has never been your forte. and in moments like these, where your lover keeps praising you, showering you with “i love you’s” and petnames until all you can do is try not to combust, you hope that he knows that you feel the same. 

the invisible veil of embarrassment and shyness always wraps around your mouth multiple times, nearly gagging you, and preventing you from revealing all of you. inside and out. because while you’re both as naked as on the day that you were born, you still feel as if there was a thick layer coated over you that is keeping wriothesley too far away from you. 

every time his cock hits your inner most part, making your throat tighten up and your eyes roll back into your head, you’re not able to tell him how good he’s making you feel. when his hand slips lower, his thumb pressing against your wet swollen clit, jerking the little nub back and forth, you can’t tell him that you like it just like that. that only him can make your body shake like this. that you’re only at his mercy. 

you feel wriothesley’s lips on your skin. sweet and light kisses are spread along your lower calf, and the intimacy, the gentleness is making you tear up. 

having him inside you is not enough. his hands on your body are not enough. his skin against yours is not enough, because it still feels like you’re miles apart. 

“fuck, sweetheart. quit squeezing me so tight or else-” 

a quiet sob rips through the room and wriothesley’s sex dazed mind sobers up in an instant. your leg hits the mattress when he carefully drops it down, and leans over to have a look at you.

“love?” 

wriothesley’s about to stop everything at the sight of the tears trailing down your cheeks. are you in pain? did he hurt you? was it too much? 

all those questions evaporate when he sees you stretch your arms out towards him, grabby hands hovering in front of his face as you keep crying like a toddler begging to be picked up. 

“c’mere.” is all you can get out, yet it is enough for wriothesley to know what is truly going on. the empty space between you is quickly filled with warmth. with him. 

chest against chest, he lies down beside you, his still hard cock slipping out of you, as he wraps you up in the comfort of his arms. 

“i’m here. i’m here, my love.”

whether it’s your tears or snot that are wetting his neck as you nuzzle into him, he could not care less. everything about the past hour is forgotten. the heated kisses and frantic touches, as well as the moans and groans that filled your bedroom-

everything is irrelevant because no orgasm could ever satiate the need that you’re feeling right here and now. 

“wrio-”

“i know, baby. i know. i‘m not going anywhere, ‘m right here.” his hand strokes the back of your head, his fingers delicately combing through strands of your soft hair. a lopsided smile curves his lips when the arms around his middle tighten the slightest bit, and a wet kiss is pressed against the middle of his throat, right below his adam’s apple. 

what you see as a weakness, is for wriothesley one of many reasons to love you even more. you don’t need words to show him that your heart has only space for him. you don’t have to tell him how much he means to you, and how good he’s being to you when he can all discern it in the way your body’s speaking to him. you gravitate towards him as if he was your own little sun. 

his thumb swipes over your cheek when you eventually pull back to look at him. teary, doe eyes stare right into his soul. into his heart. and it’s the prettiest sight that a human being like him could have ever dreamed of. so many things have gone wrong in his life, yet so many went right, with you being his biggest blessing. 

and you prove it over and over again. because he swears that his heart has stopped beating at a normal pace ever since you stepped into his life. you have rekindled his brain. his entire being. 

“wriothesley.” your hoarse voice cuts through his thoughts, and he coos sweetly at you when you sniff and rub the corner of your eye with your palm. a kiss on your forehead, and another on the tip of your nose, and you feel like you’re holding the entire world in your arms. 

“i love you. so, so much.” you croak, cupping his cheek and feeling the light stubble along his jaw as if to distract yourself from the light shake in your hands and the overwhelming fluttering of your heart. 

“hm. i love you too.” wriothesley breathes, his hand wrapped so gently around your wrist as he guides it towards his lips, sealing his words with a final kiss on your palm. “so, so much.”

#wriothesley #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley x reader #genshin wriothesley #wrio x reader #wriothesley smut #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley x you

[h0neylevi]

tags: fem!reader, spanking, use of 'good girl', praise, fingering, implied overstimulation

w/c: 866

It takes all of ten minutes after you get home from the airport for Levi to have your mind numb with pleasure.

He’s been gone for a week—away for some work conference that sent him halfway across the country. Often, when he’s gone like this, he hardly has time to even call you at the end of each day, and this last week has been no exception.

You missed him, and from the way he all but throws you onto the bed after he’s put his suitcase down, you’d be foolish to think the feeling wasn’t mutual.

You’ve been stripped down to nothing. The set of cute lingerie you’d worn to pick him up lays in a pile with the rest of your clothes, quickly disregarded by Levi in favor of feeling the soft give of your flesh underneath.

Now you’re draped over his lap on your stomach, struggling to string together a single coherent thought as two of Levi’s fingers stretch you open.

He’s still dressed. The creases of his dress shirt remain wrinkle-free despite your wiggling, sleeves folded neatly up to his elbows. His tie is the only thing discarded, the silky fabric now deftly wound around your wrists in a makeshift bind, freeing him from the hassle of your roaming hands.

A week apart and you’re not allowed to touch him. If you could think, you’d call it a punishment worse than torture.

“Does that feel good, sweetheart?” he coos. “Is this what you thought about while I was gone?”

You open your mouth to reply, but he takes that moment to curl his fingers in just the right way to heat your blood to molten levels. An airy moan slips from your throat instead and gets smothered by the pillow supporting your head.

His other palm comes down on your ass, striking once and then again.

“Answer me.”

Your mouth hangs open without a sound, momentarily caught between delicious pain and pleasure. “Yes.”

“Good girl.” He rewards you by rolling his fingers over your clit, generously coating it in your arousal. “You always make such pretty noises for me. Let me hear them.”

Sparks ignite in your belly, hips rolling to chase the sensation of his fingers, but he pulls away just as your legs begin to shake.

You whine. “Levi–”

He ignores you in favor of watching his fingers slowly sink inside of you again. His eyes practically glow with reverence in the dim lighting. “Look at you, making such a mess.”

Embarrassment burns your face. You’re probably dripping all over his finely-pressed trousers, staining the fabric, but you can’t bring yourself to care about stopping. All you can think about is the growing, aching need in your belly as he starts again.

“Levi, please. I–”

His fingers disappear. Another smack to your ass makes you flinch and squirm.

“I didn’t tell you to speak.” He frowns. “You’re not in any position to be making demands. Were you this fucked out when you forgot to put away the toys?”

You still for a moment, trying to connect the dots. It’s like your brain is attempting to wade through quicksand but slowly, you remember.

There was one rule you both followed when he went away on long work trips: no touching without permission. The one rule that up until last night you’d never broken.

Pleasure ebbs from your limbs, and you breathe a pathetic whine into the dampened fabric of the pillow. You need to move, but you’re at Levi’s mercy like this—bound and unable to do anything without his help.

You feel his free palm caress your hip, right over the sensitive spot he’d spanked just moments prior.

“M’sorry.” Your voice is a labored half-sob, half-gasp, muffled from being pressed against the pillow. “I just missed you.”

It’s a last ditch effort and you know it. Discipline is a language that Levi knows well, and his capacity for self-control sometimes makes your head spin. He already looks barely affected by comparison. The only sign that he’s worked up at all is the subtle feeling of his length against your side, concealed but nonetheless straining beneath layers of fabric. Your hands clench into loose fists in the binds. To have that level of restraint aimed at you sends an excited thrill up your spine.

You almost expect him to discipline you for speaking out of turn again, but instead you feel his hand move from your thigh to grant you a few slow swipes over your aching clit. Just enough to keep you on the edge, eager for more.

“I know you’re sorry,” he says softly. The shift in his tone makes your shoulders relax, but his fingers swiftly move, pushing deep inside of you at a pace that has your toes curling.

“Since you want to come so bad, let’s see how many you can give me.” His fingers begin to pump and curl inside of you more quickly, hitting the spot that makes your legs quake and turn to jelly. Your back arches, finally giving him full access to the clear and punctuated moan that’s ripped from your throat. “Let’s start with one for every day I was gone, hm?”

#levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x fem!reader #aot fic

[snoozbin]

on wednesday we wear pink

fem!reader x jaehyun ・ fluff loser!jaehyun college au ・ cw not proofread wc 382

how could jaehyun say no to you?

you were just too adorable to say no too and that was and is jaehyun's weakness, you. "c'mon.. it's wednesday and you promised you'd wear pink with me.." your lips glossed with a layer of lip tint, making your pout even more unbearable. 

2 days ago, jaehyun stayed over at your house. it was the perfect night to watch a movie so you decided to play mean girls, and that's when the idea came to mind. "let's wear pink." his head turned to face you. "huh?" the boy next to you said, confusion in the sound of his voice. "i said let's wear pink on wednesday." a slight smile formed on your lips. your face always made jaehyun fold, so like any whipped boyfriend he said yes. 

and that's where this whole conversation came to light.

"fine! i'm only doing it though because you look so adorable right now!" a cheer left your mouth as you hugged jaehyun tightly, delicate hands placed around his neck. jaehyun's face was red as a mushroom, blush reddening up his cheeks and a silly smile that truly showed how whipped he was for you.

Walking hand in hand; you and jaehyun stepped foot onto campus. pink outfits that went hand in hand with the other. "i'll see you after class, love you!" a peck was placed on his cheek by you before you walked over to your class. the boy's heart was pounding like crazy, his hand against the cheek his girlfriend kissed him on, and eyes that could tell that he was so in love. 

"god you better wipe the smile off your face, it's making me cringe" jaehyun's eyes turned in the direction of the voice only to see one of his friends, taesan. "but, she's so pretty.." he jokingly screamed before walking away. "okay.. we get it your girlfriend is soo pretty." taesan mimicked the older boy voice. "c'mon!! come so we can go to class, i don't wanna be late just because of some guy who is head over heels for his girl." he chuckled, watching jaehyun speed up his steps. 

"you're just jealous because you don't have a lover.." jaehyun mumbled, sadly it was loud enough for taesan to hear. "i guess i am."

🐰 : loser men are and will always be the moment !!!!

#★ ( SNOOZED !! ) #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor #boynextdoor drabbles #boynextdoor jaehyun #myung jaehyun #bnd x reader #bnd fluff #bnd imagines #bnd #jaehyun #boynextdoor park jaehyun #boynextdoor fluff #jaehyun fic #jaehyun x reader #bnd angst #bonedo

[xaytheloser]

The Prince in a Gilded Cage

characters: Dark Cacao Cookie, Dark Choco Cookie, Mystic Flour Cookie, Caramel Arrow Cookie Tw: manipulation, warping one's morality, isolation, kidnapping, my shit ass writing (while Mystic Flour Cookie's gender is unknown, I will be using she/her for them for this fic)

"leave him be, in due time, he shall see that this is for the best." "..." "oh, come now, Dark Cacao Cookie... you do not wish to fail him like you did before... do you?" "...no. I do not." "that is what I thought, in order for your kingdom to prosper, some extremes are necessary to be made... your son may not understand now, but he will, in due time..." .... Dark Cacao had been having more frequent conversations with the Light of Resolution, at least.. that has what the ancient beast Mystic Flour Cookie had been disguising herself as.. the king had been placed under some form of.. possession, his morality and mind warping into a more twisted version of his former self.. "your kingdom is at risk, Dark Cacao Cookie.. listen to me... I shall guide you.." the king began pushing his workers to the brink of exhaustion, applying even more heavy layers of chocolate to the ever growing wall, not only did the king now demand that the wall strengthen in thickness, he demanded it's height to increase. now the wall nearly covered the entire citadel, casting it into a large looming shadow. perimeter checks around the citadel's borders become the regular, with soldiers being forced to track the harsh blizzard ridden territory for the slightest threat. the king also had a new objective, to find his son. the "Light of Resolution" stated the reason behind this as for him to... "make amends" with his lost son, and while Dark Cacao had thought about sending soldiers out for his son, he was hesitant until the Light of Resolution... persuaded him.. "you wish to make things right between the two of you?" "...yes, desperately so..." "hmph... then do it." .... "...father..?" the harsh wind howled through the air, Dark Cacao and his troops had trashed Dark Choco Cookie's camp site, his tent in shambles and belongings scatters throughout the site. the father and son stood and stared at each other, all while Mystic Flour did her work in warping the king's thoughts once more.. "you wish to make things right, correct? then make it right." "yes.. soldiers, restrain my son." "..what..?" Dark Cacao watched as his soldiers tackled his son to the ground, pinning him down without any second thought, all while the "Light of Resolution" whispered into his ear, "soon, you will have the happy family that you desire.." .... sweets, rainbow jellies, books, warm clothes, all the things that Dark Choco could desire, nothing could get the young prince out of his silent brooding state. his room was locked heavily, chains and padlocks covering his door, as to prevent his escape, his father even made sure to lock him up in the highest tower, without a window.. his father would visit him, bring him meals, and trying to get back even a semblance of normality between him and his son.. but Dark Choco talked about nothing than about his release. "father, I-" "it is out of the question, Dark Choco Cookie, you shall not be let out until it is safe for you.." "I am not a child, father, I do not need your protection, it was you who taught me to protect myself, now, you want me to stay here, only to follow your orders like some child..?" "...." his father never replied to his questions, shutting them down whenever he speak up, leaving his heavily guarded room, and locking him all by himself again. .... the cold winter wind howled outside, Dark Choco Cookie could not sleep, he did not wish to sleep.. he had to find out what was wrong with his father, he knew that.. something was wrong... *CLANK!* Dark Choco heard the locks to his room unlock, with a heavy creek of the door opening.. "...Caramel Arrow... Cookie..?" "my prince.. come with me.. I know that the king is not well.. I aim to help aid him.... will you assist me?" "..." ....

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #crk #cr kingdom #dark choco cookie #dark choco crk #dark cacao crk #dark cacao cookie #caramel arrow cookie #caramel arrow crk #mystic flour cookie #mystic flour crk #Xay writes #crk au

[losersiren]

I really enjoyed your Regency Era yandere story! I would love to see a second part where he earns her affection back and proposes!

Notes: AH, THANK YOU! Maybe, in the future, I'll write a whole fic about Ambrose proposing. But for now, here's how his proposal would go from the top of my head.

Yandere! Lord, who, after months of courting, piles of love letters that made the mail coach dread delivering to your estate and taking you out on many splendid and lavish outings of carriage rides throughout every road in the city, afternoon tea that was filled to the brim with treats only royalty could enjoy, and lovely walks along the pier. And, of course, secret rendezvous in the nearby forest away from the public’s scrutiny eye where you both could be yourselves. He decides to ask your father for your hand in marriage, and as the words of approval leave your father’s mouth, he's out the door! 

Yandere lord! Who, if it were his idea, would’ve asked for your hand way earlier. Yet, he was a patient man for you and waited for you to fall for him entirely, and when you dropped subtle hints about desiring an engagement, he immediately marched to your father. 

Yandere! Lord, who already had your engagement ring prepared years beforehand, even when he was abroad. It was a valuable little thing. It wasn’t just a big stone on a gold ring; no, it was made carefully with thought. The ring is engraved, and it is not just one heavy gem– it is a large jewel surrounded by other smaller ones. Each placement was placed for a purpose. 

Yandere Lord! Who announced the news to his father one evening and when The Earl rejected the idea entirely. He didn’t take that very well. It’s a shame his father became bedridden; it was almost as if someone repeatedly throughout these past days put drops of strychnine in his meals. It's a pity that his father won't attend his wedding, but alas, what can you do?

Yandere! Lord Who plans your proposal meticulously, ensuring everything goes soothingly and accordingly. He decided to propose when you both would but off in the forest. It was late at night near a small lake, a picnic laid out with your favourite foods, desserts, and drinks. The fireflies (which he anticipated to appear) decorate the small area, setting the mood more than any candlelight could; the small body of water is graced with a layer of blooming water lilies.

Yandere! Lord, when your back is turned away from him, gazing at the beautiful flowers in the water and complementing the scenery. He kneels on one knee, holding the ring box towards you. When you suspect something is in the midst because of how silent the loud-mouthed lord is, you turn to face him, only to be met with his sincere yet vulnerable gaze.

Ambrose delicately says your name. “You’ve bewitched me, body and soul, if you’ll only grant me the honour to become your devoted companion in this life and more by allowing me to become your husband.”

“Will you marry me, My sweet?”

End notes: Ambrose's dad is getting reversibly traumatized by his own son....

#losersirencaught #male yandere #yandere blog #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere male x reader #x reader #yandere x darling #yandere thoughts #yandere headcanons #yandere oc x reader

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me - Chapter Eight: We'll Dance in the Street like Nobody's Watching

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 3.8k

Chapter Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, unprotected p in v, flirting, dads being dads. Two idiots falling in love and finally fucking admitting it. Joel is his own warning. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad and Joel uses various terms of endearment (darlin', sweetheart, etc.).

This chapter includes the scene that sparked the entire story idea. I've been patiently waiting for it to see the light of day. hope you enjoy!

Thank you so much to everyone who reads this self-indulgent story and extra thanks to those who comment and/or reblog - you all make me feel like a rock star!

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Chapter Seven | Main Masterlist

“So, how was it?” Grilling you for the past twenty minutes, Emily was relentless in her pursuit to find out just how good Joel was in bed, after congratulating you on the new job, of course. “Come on! I need to know!”

“Alright, alright! I had no idea you were such a needy bitch. Is your hubby not dicking you down enough or what?” you laughed before regaling her with tales of Joel’s prowess.

“I fuckin’ knew he’d be big and know how to use it! He just gives off that BDE, ya know what I mean? Just how big are we talkin’, anyway?”

Rolling your eyes, you laughed again. “Well, I didn’t fucking measure it, but it’s a definite handful. Besides, you’ve never even met him, Em! How could you possibly get that vibe?”

“I’ve seen photos and heard stories, that’s more than enough to pick up on that sorta thing,” Emily replied with the confidence of someone who damn well knows what she’s talking about. “I need to know more. Gimme all the details!”

“Yeah, yeah. Speaking of BDE, I gotta finish getting ready. Joel said he had something special planned for tonight to celebrate me getting the teaching job.”

“I bet he does. You’re gonna get another deep dicking from that huge—”

“Bye Em!” you cut her off and hit end call before she could carry on anymore.

Tossing the phone on your bed, you finished putting a light layer of makeup on, putting in a little more effort to look good tonight. Ten minutes later, dressed in a pair of dark, fitted jeans and a dark blue, long-sleeve, vee neck shirt that showed just a touch of cleavage, you wandered out to the living room.

“Alright Dad, I’m off. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Leaning over the back of his recliner, you press a kiss to his balding head.

“Have fun on your date and be careful, Spud. Call me if you need a ride home or anything,” he replied, patting your hand. You turned to leave, grabbing a light jacket from the hook by the door just in case, when your dad’s voice carried from the living room. “It’s funny, Joel told me he has a date tonight, too.”

Freezing for a moment, you squeak, “Oh, yeah?”

“Uh huh. Quite a coincidence me thinks.” He paused again, but you were at a loss for words and grateful that he couldn’t see your expression. “Enjoy your night, kiddo.”

Knowing a dismissal when you heard one, you take off through the door. Your mind raced on the short drive to Joel’s. He knows. Your dad so knows. You start to panic for a moment wondering if he’s upset before the realization hits that he didn’t seem remotely mad about it. More like he got a kick out of the idea and enjoyed teasing you. You and Joel had to fess up very soon, but that was a tomorrow problem. Tonight was meant to be all about you and Joel.

Walking through the front door, you expected to find Joel in the living room or kitchen, but the downstairs was empty. Lugging your overnight bag up the stairs, you thought maybe he’d be in his room or the bathroom still getting ready, but again, no sign of him. Where the hell was he?

Making your way down the stairs, you peeked out the window to make sure you didn’t imagine his truck in the driveway when you parked – it was there, right next to your car. He had to be around here somewhere. The sound of soft music hit your ears suddenly. Following the sound, you slipped out the back door and gasped.

A soft glow spread across the yard from lights strung from tree to tree, a plaid tablecloth covered the patio table on which sat a vase of brightly colored tulips, an open bottle of pinot noir, two stemless wine glasses, and two covered plates. Just beyond the patio, a hammock hung between two large live oaks with another set of string lights dangling above it. As your eyes took it all in, Joel stood off to the side watching you with a warm smile.

“Joel,” you whispered, afraid to disturb the dream-like quality of the moment, his name a drawn-out breath in the air when you finally turned to him. His dark eyes glinted from the string lights as he stepped forward out of the shadows, one hand stretched out towards you. There was no hesitation in reaching for him and you clung to each other for a few minutes before he stepped back to pull out a chair for you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, settling into the seat. When Joel took his place across the table from you, you added, “This is so lovely, Joel.”

A bashful smile graced his lips as he removed the covers from the plates and filled the wine glasses. Your gaze soaked in every little movement he made, in awe of the gorgeous man before you and all he’d done to make this evening special. Holding his glass up, he toasted to you. “Here’s to your new job and the start of a very rewarding career. Congrats darlin’.”

Clinking your glass against his lightly, you beamed at him. He looked so handsome, thick curls pushed back away from his face, tanned skin glowing in the soft lighting. “Thank you, Joel.” Already buzzing from the way he made you feel, you sipped lightly at the wine before digging into the meal before you.

Bursts of flavor hit your palette at the first bite, the chicken cooked to perfection and the sun-dried tomatoes adding just the right tang to the red pesto coating the rigatoni. A soft moan escaped before you caught it, cheeks heating up with the way Joel looked at you with hooded eyes.

“I reckon you like it?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his gravelly voice.

“This may be the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted, Joel. Did you make this?” You took another bite, savoring the flavors that exploded in your mouth.

“Mmhmm. It’s my mama’s recipe, she made it a lot when we were younger, and it’s always been my favorite. I’m glad you like it.” He watched you enjoy another forkful, obviously proud.

“I don’t just like it, Joel. This is fuckin’ delicious. I didn’t know you could cook like this!”

His cheeks turned pink as he cleared his throat. “I can’t, usually. I practiced a lot with this one.” That melted your heart further.

You ate your fill, making small conversation between bites, until your wine glass was empty, and your belly satisfied. Joel poured you another glass, which you sipped leisurely as he cleared the table and placed the dirty dishes in the dishwasher for later. He wouldn’t let you lift a finger.

“Dance with me?” he said upon his return outside, voice deep and gravelly as he plucked the glass from your hand and placed it on the table.

“I’d love to,” you replied softly, lips tilted upwards in a sweet smile. Holding his left hand out, Joel helped you to your feet and let you off the patio.

A new song began, volume a little louder now, and you stepped closer to him. A warm buzz spread through your veins when Joel pulled you against his broad chest, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other bent to hold your hand over his heart. You could feel the thump of his heartbeat beneath the green flannel he wore as he swayed you slowly around the grassy yard, careful to not stray too close to the pool.

Nothing ever felt as right as being there in Joel’s arms, dancing in the yard like the world beyond the fence didn’t exist. Your feelings for this man were overwhelming, growing deeper each and every day – hell, each and every second was more like it – and that four-letter word bubbled in your throat. You swallowed it down, settling your head against Joel’s shoulder, eyes closed and focused on the moment.

Joel’s chin tilted downward, nudging against the side of your face, his lips near your ear, and his breath sent delightful chills down your spine when he began to sing softly.

“Fall into me and I’ll catch you, darlin’. We’ll dance in the street like nobody’s watching. It’s just you and me and the song on repeat in my head, playing over and over…”

My god, how could you not fall in love with this incredible man?

The intimacy of it all brought tears to your eyes as your fingers threaded through the hair at the back of his head. Stomach alight with the flutter of too many butterflies, the urge to speak from your heart became too much, you could hold back no longer.

“I love you, Joel.”

You loved him.

What did he ever do to deserve something like that?

Heart clenching deep in his chest, Joel guided you to the hammock, music still carrying softly through the air. With amazing finesse, he settled you both on the hanging fabric, bodies snuggled together until you nearly became one.

He ached to say the words back to you, but they kept getting stuck in his throat. Instead, he settled for showing you how he felt, just like he did with dancing and singing in your ear – he could have written that song for how relatable it was to the feelings you brought out in him. Dark eyes stared into yours as his hands moved over your body, pulling you impossibly closer.

I love you, his lips said as they pressed heatedly against yours.

I love you, his tongue said as it licked softly into your mouth to tangle delicously with yours.

I love you, his hands said as they touched you with utter reverence.

I love you, his body said as he pressed it tightly against yours, trying in vain to crawl beneath your skin.

Joel kissed you with singular focus until you were both breathless and overwrought with need.

“Take me to bed, Joel,” you whispered when he finally tore his lips from yours. “I need to feel every bit of you.”

Your angelic voice music to his ears, he scrambled from the hammock, scooping you up in his muscled arms to carry you inside and up to his bedroom. His mind occupied by one thing and one thing only – making love to you until you knew every part of him and he knew every part of you – the string lights and last bit of wine were left forgotten in the yard.

Loving the way you clung to him, Joel swept through the house and up the stairs with an urgency he’d not felt before.

His lips moved to brush down your neck, nipping at the tender skin as he went. Once in his room, he closed the door even though you were the only two there. Joel kissed each new patch of skin bared as he removed your clothes until you were completely naked. Easing you back onto his unmade bed, a low growl rumbled from deep in his chest when your fingers slid along his scalp and tugged on his hair. Fucking lord did he love how you touched him.

“Fuck, I need to taste you, pretty girl.”

He’d never seen anyone or anything more beautiful in his life as your naked body writhed on his bed, eager and yearning for his touch, and Joel knelt to worship at the altar of you.

Starting at your delicate feet, Joel’s fingertips traced every inch of you until he reached the apex of your thighs. Leaning forward, he let the scruff of his facial hair tickle along the flesh of your inner thighs, pressing open-mouth kisses along the soft skin as he went. Grinning as you trembled, he met your wide gaze as he leant forward, tongue exploring your folds.

The first taste of you set his soul on fire. Sweet like honey yet more addicting and thrice as satisfying, Joel licked at your clit, tongue occasionally dipping down into you, slurping greedily at the very essence of you.

He couldn’t have thought of a more delicious dessert.

His movements elicited sensuous moans that shot straight to his cock, his jeans quickly becoming too tight and uncomfortable. Seeking a little relief, his hips began grinding against the mattress as he brought you closer and closer to the edge, fingers soon assisting his tongue in driving you mad. Just when he thought he might blow his load in his jeans, again, you came, crying his name out, the syllables drawing out in a beautiful, lyrical drawl. Working you through it, Joel drank down every bit of your release like a thirsty man in the desert.

“Fuck, darlin’. You taste fuckin’ delicious. I could live here, between your legs, for the rest of my life, surviving on just you.” Joel stood as he spoke, gazing down at your blissed out form on his bed as he tore off his clothes, one large hand palming his cock before he practically dove into bed with you.

“You’re too good at that, Joel Miller,” you said, the words falling lazily from your lips as you recovered from the singularly intense orgasm. Swooping down, Joel kissed you passionately, offering you a taste of yourself lingering on his tongue.

Letting his body continue to do the communicating for him, Joel shifted his hips, grinding gently against you while his mouth devoured yours. Groaning as your nails scratched down his back, he reached a hand down to guide his cock toward its home in your pussy. Dark eyes opened wide, Joel watched your face as he entered you, delighting in the scrunch of your nose and the way your eyes squeezed shut before popping open again at the sensation of him splitting you open.

With long, slow, oh so deep, strokes, Joel made love to you, telegraphing the depth of his feelings in the only way he knew how, until you were writhing in pleasure beneath him. Afterwards, he cleaned the mess between your thighs and held you close until you fell asleep with your head resting on his chest. Only then, did he finally whisper the words he longed to say all night. “I love you, too.”

Joel stayed awake for a while, listening to your gentle snores and the soft sighs you made in your sleep. He loved that you let your guard down with him, that he was the man who got to hold you while you slept. In the darkness of night, Joel made himself a promise that he would not fuck this up before falling into a deep sleep of his own.

His dreams were particularly vivid, the sensation of your mouth around his cock so strong he’d swear it was real. He’d never experienced your mouth around him like that before, though, so it couldn’t be real. Joel let his dream-self enjoy every moment, your lips around his shaft and tongue teasing the throbbing vein along the underside of his cock a divinity he’d never known before. At one point you took him so deep that a loud, guttural moan escaped his lips, hands clenching in your hair.

Eyes popping open, the moan carried on, rumbling from deep within Joel’s chest as he glanced down to find you feasting on his hardened length. It wasn’t a dream after all.

“Fuuuccckkk,” his voice, still rough with sleep, drew out the word as he watched you go down on him. Your mouth a form of heaven he suffered too long without, the cheeky, mischievous look in your eye making the pleasure more intense. You clearly enjoyed the act nearly as much as he did.

It didn’t take long before your wanton rhythm and sinful mouth had him coming down your throat, your name a prayer recited over and over in that gravelly voice. “Jesus fucking Christ, darlin’. Where’d you learn to suck cock like that, hmm? Your mouth is like God damn heaven.”

Joel’s chest heaved as you gulped down every drop of his spend, tongue darting out to lick the last bit from the little slit on his cockhead before sliding over your lips. You visibly swallowed, savoring the taste of him; his eyes glued to your mouth the whole time. His hand came up, caressing your face with the love he couldn’t yet voice shining brightly in his eyes, and his thumb traced along your plump bottom lip.

“My little gummy worm,” he murmured, delirious from coming so hard. “Felt so good wrapped around my fat cock.”

Crawling up his body, you settled your weight atop him and pressed your lips to his, letting him taste a hint of himself on your tongue as licked into his mouth, returning the favor from the night before. The kiss was languid and sloppy, perfect for a lazy morning waking up together.

“You tasted good, all salty and musky,” you said once you broke away, voice raspy from having his dick halfway down your throat.

“You can wake me up like that any time you’d like, darlin’.”

The two of you cuddled for a while, neither of you too eager to start the day knowing you didn’t have anything pressing to do. Those unspoken words bubbled in Joel’s chest the whole time, begging to come to the surface, to be spoken aloud and given credence. Still, he hesitated without quite knowing why. Finally rolling out of bed around 10, you jumped into the shower while Joel threw on some clothes and ran out to grab some breakfast.

He just pulled back into his driveway, a bag with a few bagel breakfast sandwiches in one hand – he got an extra in case you wanted pork roll instead of bacon – a coffee and orange juice clutched in the other, when JB’s truck pulled up in front of his house.

Settled on the couch after your refreshing shower, legs tucked under you while scrolling through your phone, you heard Joel’s truck pull up. Waiting for him to come in with breakfast for you both, you were caught off guard by the deep voices rumbling in the front yard. You sat up, peeking through the blinds to find your dad out front, hands on his hips as he spoke to Joel.

Oh shit.

You couldn’t discern their facial expressions from that angle and moved to the front door, quietly easing the heavy wood open to peek out and eavesdrop. They had to be talking about you, right? There was no hiding or pretending you weren’t here, especially with your car parked in the driveway right next to Joel’s. After your dad’s comments last night, you wondered if he planned this ambush then.

“I knew she’d be here,” you heard your dad say, but you couldn’t read his body language clearly. His hands were on his hips still, but there was a smile on his face. “You sweet on my baby girl, Joel?”

You couldn’t hear Joel’s response, his gravelly voice pitched too low for your ears to catch across the distance, but you could see him smile hesitantly even as his broad shoulders hunched slightly. Whatever it was caused your dad to chuckle and punch Joel playfully.

“I knew it!” your dad exclaimed, the sudden loudness startling you. “I knew you two would hit it off, I just wasn’t sure how long it’d take.”

You caught Joel’s response this time, his surprised voice pitching upwards. “You’re not upset?”

Walking toward the house without invitation, your dad paused. “Why the hell would I be upset? You’re a good man, Joel, and I know you’ll treat her well. And she’ll be good for you, too, I have no doubt. Now, you got enough in that there bag for breakfast for three?”

Your shoulders sagged with relief as you eased the door open. “I thought I heard voices! Hi Dad,” you greeted. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey Spud. I could ask you the same thing, but I knew I’d find you here.” Pulling you in for a hug, he ushered you inside. “I got tired of waiting for you two to come clean and thought I’d put you both on the spot.”

Eyebrows shooting up, you glanced at Joel before meeting your dad’s gaze again. “How did you know?”

Giving you a shrug, he said, “You two weren’t exactly subtle and a father always knows.” Nudging your shoulder, JB turned to Joel. “You’ll find that out soon enough, my friend. I can’t wait for the trouble that Sarah will give you.”

The three of you sat at the small dining table, digging into the breakfast sandwiches, your dad insisting you tell him how long you and Joel had been seeing each other and how it all started. Relieved to finally have the truth out there, you told him the story and JB chuckled.

“That about tracks. That’s right around when I started to notice something different between the two of you. And it sure explains why you hardly gave Annica the time of day on your date.” JB gave Joel grief about that failed date for weeks knowing that there was something – or someone – else drawing the man’s attention. JB had the feeling back then that it was you, his baby girl, his grown-up Spud, who captured the single father’s attention.

“You sure you’re okay with this, Dad? I mean…” your words fell off, not really knowing what to say. You’d be heartbroken if your dad wasn’t okay with a relationship between you and Joel, especially now that you verbally admitted to being in love with him.

“Are you kidding? I’m happy as a pig in shit that the two people I care about most like each other.” Your dad was all smiles, beady eyes sparkling with mischief. “In fact, I was planning on setting the two of you up if you didn’t figure things out for yourselves first. Tommy was in on the plan, too, and was the one who suggested we give it a little time. Little shit never told me it became official, though.”

Sitting back in your seat, you giggled with relief. All that time spent fretting over what your dad might think, feeling guilty for dating his best friend and hiding it from him for so long. It was all for naught. You should have known he’d love the idea of you two together.

“So, when’s the wedding?” JB asked, a shit-eating grin spread across his lips as you and Joel froze, eyes darting to each other in wide-eyed panic. Your dad practically guffawed at his own humor while you two were practically having a panic attack. “I’m just kidding – there’s no rush. Just make sure you treat her right, Joel.”

Recovering from the initial panic – not that he didn’t want to marry you, eventually, just not quite this soon – Joel laughed a little nervously. “Of course, JB. I’ll always treat her right. I, uh… I love her.” His gaze shifted to you, heart showing firmly in those dark chocolate orbs. “I love you, darlin'.”

tbc

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx

@pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr

@lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg

@ashleyfilm @brittmb115 @lilmizmoz @loveisacowboyyy @shotgun-shelby

@deninoe @casssiopeia @caitlynsixxx @skysmiller @missladym1981

@marirxse @lizzie-cakes @tynakub

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #the last of us #tlou #dbf!joel #Fall Into Me #pedro pascal #eventual smut #mutual pining #idiots in love

[orbital-inclination]

Moltendreams - Error Sans Alias - ??? Pronouns: he/him, they/them Personality: Petty, holds a mean grudge, Big Tsundere, Complete Shut-in, Quick Tempered and Moody, fanatic with his interests, externally aggressive when in actuality he is quite shy. An absolute troll. His favorite passtime is messing with others. Paradoxically touch starved and suffers from haphephobia. Reckless with his own well being.

This variant of Error is capable of both love and compassion, he just hides it under a grumpy exterior and several layers of denial and self-destructive dogma. Other Notes:

He is reluctant to harm Papyrus directly, and will generally avoid encounters with him in any given AU.

Had a good relationship with his dad/W.D Gaster, actually.

Relates to "pest" pets; rats, mice, snakes, spiders, beetles, he loves them all.

Would have a pet rat of his own if he wasn't afraid of it shocking itself by chewing on his wires.

His favorite kind of chocolate is mixed with a hazelnut filling.

Considers Frisk to be a younger sibling.

-More Info undercut! -

Abilities: Error uses wire instead of string. Wire and summoned attacks can and do hold an electric charge. His presence alone messes with electronic devices. Residents of a particular AU may get a few minutes or seconds of warning as sweaters get staticy, computer screens glitch out, and anything with a battery spontaneously dies or gets super charged. By creating a circle of alternating RED and CYAN bones, Error can create a sort of reverse faraday cage. While Error can produce electricity, he can't directly control the voltage. He can only hope to direct it. If you do touch him, you will find his clothes zappy with static. Do NOT attempt to fight him in humid or watery environments for, hopefully, obvious reasons.

About: Fed up with the anomaly's time looping shenanigans and watching his family torn apart, Sans injected himself with modified DETERMINATION magic and began messing with things he really had no business messing with: his late father's research, all in the hope of separating the anomaly from Frisk. He wanted to save the kid too. But something went catastrophically wrong and as a result he was ripped from reality, and caught in the space in-between. Eventually, he escaped but not unscathed. Error doesn't remember much, he doesn't remember the events described above, at all, but has vague memories of Papyrus, Frisk and his father. They were good memories. He misses them. He can't find his original AU and secretly fears it may have been the first world he destroyed.

He is still looking for it.

Outcode Politics: Error views all outcodes the same way he views every iteration of the original timeline that even slightly deviates: as glitches to be terminated. Bugs in the code he needs to hammer out before it all goes to hell. Error believes that by destroying deviating timelines and AUs, he is preserving the original. He is “saving’’ it by trimming the branches back. Despite his position as the self proclaimed Destroyer, Error is not above biases and making exceptions. 

Error believes he is one of the glitches in the code that must be destroyed, but he won’t let just anyone dust him for good. Ultimately, he wants someone in his family to do it. That is, if he can find them first. Error has a different view on the Spirits of Creation that Fable/Ink does. (Spirits of Creation are in-universe term and stand-in for the creator of an AU). He calls them eldritch parasites. Abominations that should be avoided at all costs. And absolutely should not be encouraged or interacted with. Though he won't admit it out loud, Error is terrified of them. OG Error @.LoverofPiggies/CrayonQueen) Moltendreams @.me

#moltendreams!au #MoltenDreams!error #error sans #error!sans #errortale #utmv #utmv au #underverse #underverse au #undertale #undertale aus #undertale au #my art #the gober the gremlin the most problem child of all problem children #finding a color palette for this guy was tough

[jeankluv]

Birdie - Satoru Gojo | Chapter 07

Words: 4k

Summary: You didn't like him, at all. But due to your bad luck you would have to be forced to work with him and different circumstances end up leading you to the fact that perhaps the word dislike is not the one you would use to describe him.

ac: _3aem

Tags: modern au, college au, fem!reader, academic rivals, he fell first, fluff, old money Gojo Satoru, abusive parents, slight slow burn, Satoru is a softy, secondary couple (Geto Suguru x oc), a bit of angst, no use of y/n, eventual smut, Gojo plays basketball

Author’s note: so May it’s going to be a busy month for me, I have exams coming up and I’m also traveling for The Eras Tour, which means my time to write will be less, I have already written till chapter 11 but the updates will be slower than usual.

Materialist | previous chapter | next chapter

Birdie playlist

A couple of hours had passed since you arrived at Gojo's apartment. You felt like your head was about to explode at any moment; you hadn't stopped studying, working through problems over and over again. But at least everything seemed fairly clear now.

You sighed and stretched your back; Gojo had gone to the kitchen, leaving you alone in the living room. Looking around, you noticed there were hardly any photos, in fact, there were no family photos at all. The few pictures that you could see, were of Gojo with Suguru and Shoko.

You didn't want to ask, and you didn't feel it was your place to inquire, but you had a feeling that Gojo's relationship with his parents might not be the best.

The sofa next to you dipped, indicating that Gojo had returned to the living room. You turned and looked at him as he handed you a glass of water. You whispered a thank you and took a sip.

As you sat there in silence, you couldn't shake the nagging feeling that there was more to Gojo's story than meets the eye. It was clear that there was a story there, one that Gojo hadn't shared with you yet. Despite your curiosity, you were hesitant to pry into his personal life without invitation. Also, there was the little fact that you weren’t even that close. What were you?

“Do you feel better?” Gojo finally broke the silence with his soft voice.

You nodded and placed the glass on the coffee table. “Yes, thank you. The water helped.”

A small smile appeared at the corners of Gojo's lips. “That's good to hear. You've been working hard.”

He shrugged, feeling a hint of shyness. “I'm just trying to keep up.”

Gojo's gaze softened, a warmth in his eyes that made your heart flutter slightly. “You're doing great.” He assured you.

A blush crept up your cheeks at his praise, but you appreciated the encouragement anyway. It was nice to know that your efforts were recognized, especially by someone as clever as Gojo.

“Now I’m slightly afraid you will surpass me.” He joked.

“Of course I will pass you.” You replied.

“Remember our bet, birdie.” He smiled.

“Our bet only motivates me even more to surpass you.” You challenged him.

“Is it such a bad idea to go on a date with me, birdie?” He tilted his head.

Your heart skipped a beat. When had you two become so close? Your eyes met and you could clearly see the flecks of different blues in Gojo's eyes.

As you looked into Gojo's eyes, you couldn't help but feel a sense of vulnerability course through you. There was something about the way he looked at you, it was like he could see right through you, unraveling the layers of your being, with just one look he could know everything about you. You felt absolutely exposed before those blue eyes.

With a soft sigh. “I...” You finally turned your gaze away from him, avoiding his.

Months ago the answer would have been clear, no way would you have gone on a date with Satoru Gojo, now…, now you had a thousand doubts.

“You want me to order a pizza?” He said, changing the topic.

You were not facing him, so you didn’t know what type of face he was making. Was he as flustered as you? Was his heart beating like yours? Oh god I’m truly screwed. “Sure.” You whispered. “Pepperoni for me please.”

“Right.” He said and walked away to make the call.

Sitting back down on the couch you let out a big sigh. You were totally screwed. You were about to reach the point of no return, you were about to fall into a dark hole where there was nowhere out.

Satoru Gojo POV

Gojo was usually proud of himself, he would usually had a tight grip on his nerves, able to conceal them better than anyone. But he was grateful that you had stepped back when you did, or else he might have reached out and kissed you right then and there. He knew the consequences that that action would have brought, and how it would have changed your relationship— if he could even call it that, because he was still trying to decipher whether you truly couldn’t stand him and what was the reason behind it.

As he took a moment to compose himself, Gojo couldn't help but replay the scenario in his mind, wondering what might have happened if he had given in to his impulses.

He grabbed his phone from his pocket and made a quick phone call to his favorite pizza place. Ordering the pepperoni one for you and a four cheese for him.

He glanced at you from where he was and noticed you looking through the window. You didn’t look at him after being so close to each other. You avoided him.

He sighed for himself. He noticed how your attitude towards him changed since that strange relationship both of you had began, you were no longer so stoic and distant when you talked or even when he approached you, you didn't give him those looks that you used to give him when you started working on the project together.

The project... would surely be the last one he did in this career. He had tried in every way to find a way to prevent his parents from taking away the only thing he felt satisfied with in life, but it didn't matter, he would have to leave his degree and study law.

He glanced subtly at you and wondered if you would feel some pity when you found out that he would no longer be with you in class. His heart longed for it.

“Gojo…” Your sweet voice took him back from his scrambled thoughts.

“Huh?” He looked at you. “Oh sorry birdie, werre you saying something?” He leaned on the kitchen counter.

You hesitated to respond, leaving him to wonder what was on your mind as you glanced around his kitchen with a nervous energy he couldn't quite decipher. He watched as you struggled to find the right words, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension flickering in his eyes.

In an attempt to ease the tension, Gojo leaned casually against the kitchen counter, masking the turmoil churning within him with a nonchalant demeanor. “Just checking up on me?” He echoed with a cocky smile. “The pizzas are on it’s way.” He said after seeing how you rolled your eyes with his question.

“Nice…” You smiled.

Fuck, that smile drives me crazy.

As both of you waited for the pizza to arrive, Gojo couldn’t shake off the feeling that certainly shifted between the both of you. But as he watched you, a doubt went into his head. Was he reading too much?

“Birdie.” He whispered, making you turn your head to face him.

His heart was pumping like crazy on his chest.

You looked at him impatiently, waiting for him to continue. “This…” He began to speak. “Doesn’t matter.” He whispered.

You tilted your head in confusion. “Gojo you are okay? You know… you can tell me right?”

Gojo shook his head. “Yeah I know. Thank you.”

He wanted to tell you so much, to open his chest to you and speak every single word he was hiding.

The doorbell rang announcing that the pizza had arrived. Gojo headed to the entrance to go pick her up. When he returned to the living room he found you preparing the place for the two of you to eat. God, I wish this was the norm, having you there, spending quality time together. Even though having you close was already more than enough.

He shook his head, clearing the ideas from his head and took a deep breath, approaching you. Placing your pizza in front of you, he sat down next to you.

“By the way.” He spoke. “Why are you calling me again Gojo?” He pouted.

“What else would I call you?” You bite a slide of your pizza.

“Satoru!” He said, almost offended. “You called me that the other day!”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” You played dumb.

“Birdie, don’t play dumb with me.” He smiled. “I remember the moment perfectly.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes. “Forget it Gojo…”

“Oh come on birdie…” He pouted.

“Why do you want me to call you by your name so much?” You looked him in the eyes.

“Because you call everyone by their first name, everyone except me.” He said. “But now, we are close, right?” He smiled.

“We are…” Gojo saw how you hesitated on what to say. “We are classmates.”

Gojo hung his head in defeat. “Come on birdie, don't you consider me something else?” His eyes shone as he said those words and his heart raced waiting for your response.

You filled your lungs with air and held his gaze until you let out the air you had accumulated. "We are… friends." Gojo smiled widely. “Does that answer seem correct to you?”

Gojo nodded enthusiastically, being called a friend was more than satisfying to him. “Now say it!”

You took a slide of pizza and looked at him with a grin. “Nop.” And you bite the pizza.

An idea crossed Gojo's mind. Would you be angry? Yes, probably. Would it be worth it? Surely. Was he going to do it even though that might give him a black eye in the process? Hell yes.

From your position you saw him smile wickedly and Gojo saw you shake a little.

“What?” You said after swallowing the pizza.

“Nothing.” He said with a smirk on his face and slowly approaching you.

“Gojo…” You said it with a warning tone.

“Birdie, do you have tickles?” He sentenced and your eyes widened.

You dropped the pizza and pointed at him. “Gojo stay away.” But he didn’t listen. “I’m going to kick you.”

“Say it.” He said getting closer to you.

“No.” You shook your head and stood up from your spot. “Do not even think about it.”

But Gojo cared little about your words, as he stood up behind you ready to tickle you until you said just one thing. “Satoru,” he wanted to be able to hear it leave your lips again, even if it was just once. You looked at him with a frown, but Gojo didn't wipe the smile off his face. You took a few steps back and Gojo advanced towards you. He knew you could hit him, after all you were a black belt in taekwondo, but it didn't matter, he probably wouldn't have a moment like that with you again any other time.

When you saw him approaching, you started running through his apartment. Gojo followed you with long strides, he was much taller than you so it wasn't difficult to catch up with you. Gojo had grabbed your wrist and in one quick movement had cornered you against the hallway wall. Under any other circumstances or setting, this could have been a totally different scene. But the only reason you were like this was because you didn't want to call him by his name.

“Birdie…” He murmured under his breath.

But before he could continue speaking, you stepped on his foot, leaving him in pain and taking the opportunity to continue running. Gojo chuckled as he realized what a childish scene the two of you were having. I also swear I saw you smiling when I was chasing you. Gojo composed himself and went in the direction where you had left. When he walked back into the living room he was greeted by a pillow in his face and the sound of your laughter filling the room.

“You had to see the look on your face when I threw you the cushion.” You laughed from the other corner of the room.

It was then that Gojo was struck by the fact that it was the first time he saw you being so… so natural, free and carefree. And he loved it. Oh god it drove him crazy.

“Is it funny?” He said with a grin holding back the pillow.

“Very.” You said with a big smile.

“Good because I’m taking my revenge.” He said and approached you with just a few steps.

In a single movement, Gojo lifted you off the ground and carried you to the couch where he left you lying down. Gojo's heart was beating like crazy, almost bursting out of his chest. Your cheeks were flushed and your eyes looked at him almost without blinking.

I want to kiss you so bad

Gojo shook his head, sending those thoughts away and began to tickle you. Your laughter filled the room as you squirmed trying to escape from Gojo.

“Say it birdie.” He said still tickling you.

You couldn’t help but laugh while tears rolled down your face. “Okay… I will say it.” You finally gave in. Gojo stopped and you were finally able to breathe. Your stomach hurt after laughing so much. “Satoru…” At that moment he smiled wildly. “I hate you so much.” You said punching his arm.

Satoru touched his arm in annoyance and groaned. “Ouch birdie, be nicer to me.”

“Don't do that again, next time I won't be so nice.” You whispered.

“Nice?” Satoru said offended. “Look at my arm.” He lifted his shirt. “You have left everything red on me.” He cried.

You rolled your eyes. “You deserved it. Who in their right mind grabs someone like you did and throws them to the couch?” You replied.

Satoru sighed and then laughed. “Your eyes were wide open.”

“You want me to punch you again?” You said facing him and raising an eyebrow. “Anyways, the pizzas must be cold by now.”

“And what about it? They are still delicious.” He said grabbing one of the last slides he had left and eating it.

The adrenaline of the moment had overwhelmed him so much that at that moment, Satoru had not been aware of the closeness between the two of you, the almost intimate atmosphere that had enveloped them. If someone had walked through the door, they might have mistaken the scene for something else entirely.

He could feel the heat radiating from his face. If Suguru could see him he would be making fun of him.

Satoru cursed himself silently for his lack of awareness, for allowing himself to be swept up in the moment without fully considering the implications of your closeness, it was the second time in less than two hours. He had never been one to shy away from bold gestures or risky decisions, but now, faced with the aftermath of his impulsiveness, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret.

As he stole a glance in your direction, Satoru couldn't help but wonder what you were thinking. Did you share his sense of embarrassment, or were you oblivious to the tension that still lingered between them? The uncertainty gnawed at him, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable in a way he hadn't anticipated.

Forcing himself to focus on his food, Satoru tried to push aside his embarrassment and enjoy the simple pleasure of sharing a meal with you.

None of you spoke much after it, instead you decided to focus yourselves on studying a bit more for the exam. Well it was actually you who was fully focused on studying, Satoru on the other hand was just too distracted looking at you from time to time.

Weirdo.

The sun had set when Gojo got up to stretch his legs, while you stretched your back. It was too much to ask you to stay for dinner, right? His subconscious told him yes. He had already spent enough time with you today, so it would be best to take you home and say goodbye to you there. Yes, that was the best.

“-toru…” He heard your voice softly calling him. “Satoru?”

Turning around he was met with your eyes looking directly at him. “Yes?” He said Wetting his lips that had become dry.

“I think it is time for me to leave.” You finally spoke. “Tomorrow we have class and I don’t want to oversleep.”

“Yeah sure.” He nodded and touched his pockets. “Let me grab my keys and I will take you back.”

Satoru left without waiting for your response. With each hurried step, he felt a pang of longing tugging at his heart, a silent plea to spend just a little more time with you.

Arriving at the place where he had left the car keys, Satoru quickly grabbed them, his mind racing with thoughts of the moments he had shared with you today. He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd missed an opportunity, that he'd allowed his own insecurities to overshadow the possibility of a genuine connection between you.

But without a doubt your relationship was not what it used to be weeks ago and had taken a complete turn. Satoru didn't know what was going on in your mind, but he could read your gaze as if it were an open book and those eyes told him that you didn't hate him so much anymore.

Returning to where he had left you, Satoru's heart sank when he saw you already ready to leave. Seeing you, with your jacket on and your bag hanging over his shoulder, awakened a feeling of disappointment in him.

But when he approached you, he pushed aside his feelings of regret and forced himself to smile. “Ready to go?” He asked, his tone being casual.

You nodded, a small smile appearing on your lips. “Yes, let's go out.”

As you walked side by side towards the door, Satoru couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of separating from you. Although it was true that you would see each other tomorrow in class but it was different, there it was just the two of you. There he had been able to see a side of you that he did not know until that moment and that he did not know he needed so much.

As you both stepped outside, the cool embrace of early spring enveloped you, sending a shiver down your spine. Silently, you walked side by side to Satoru’s car, the only sound being the sound of your footsteps.

Satoru couldn’t help himself from stealing glances at you from time to time, his gaze lingering on your face as the chilly air painted your nose a rosy hue. Despite the cold, there was a warmth in his eyes as he watched you, a gentle smile playing on his lips at the sight of your subtle reaction to the weather.

As Satoru held the car door open for you, he couldn't help but steal a glance at your face illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights. The cool spring air had painted a rosy hue on your cheeks, and he couldn't deny the subtle beauty in you.

He watched as you settled into the passenger seat, a small smile playing on your lips in response to his gesture. Satoru felt a warmth spread through him at the sight, a sense of contentment knowing that he could provide even the smallest comfort to you.

Closing your door with a gentle click, Satoru moved around to the driver's side, his mind buzzing with emotions. As he started the engine and the car hummed, Satoru stole another glance at you, admiring the way your eyes sparkled in the dim light.

Going from the already known streets for him, Satoru's thoughts drifted to wondered what you were thinking, what secrets you were hiding behind your gaze.

Turning his gaze to the road that stretched out before him, he put all his attention on driving.

No more than 20 minutes passed when Satoru parked the car beside the house and turned the car key, causing the car to then go completely silent. Playing with the keys in his hands, he looked at you and doubtfully wet his lips that had become completely dry during the journey.

Turning his face, hoping to meet your profile, his eyes met your gaze, which looked at him calmly and serenely. An unusual sensation ran through Satoru's body, causing a hint of nervousness to creep into his being.

“Satoru?” Your voice filled the silence of the car, making Satoru stop rambling and turning his attention to you. “Thank you for helping me.” You gave him a soft smile. “At first I was really doubtful, but I’m glad I accepted.”

“Oh…” He swallowed. “Yeah… I gladly thank you… what? I mean, I gladly helped you.” He awkwardly laughed.

“Then…” You opened the door. “I will see you tomorrow.”

You stepped out of the car, offering a small wave as you said your goodbyes to Satoru. As you walked away, Satoru remained seated, lost in his thoughts.

Damn, he thought, feeling utterly pathetic as he sat alone in the car. He knew he needed to get a grip on his emotions, to stop letting his doubts and insecurities hold him back.

With a heavy sigh, Satoru started the car once more, his mind already drifting to his best friend's house. He needed to talk to someone, to confide in a friend who would understand without judgment. Shoko was out of the question when it came to matters of the heart, so Suguru was his best option.

Arriving at Suguru's house, Satoru parked the car and took a moment to gather his thoughts. He knew he had to approach Suguru with caution, as his friend had a knack for seeing through his facade and getting straight to the heart of the matter.

Taking a deep breath, Satoru climbed out of the car and made his way to the front door. He rang the doorbell, the sound echoing through the quiet neighborhood. It wasn't long before Suguru opened the door, a look of surprise flashing across his face at the sight of Satoru.

“Satoru, what brings you here at this hour?” Suguru asked, stepping aside to let his friend inside.

Satoru followed him into the house, his mind racing with thoughts of what to say.

“On a scale from 1 to 10, how pathetic do you think I am?” Satoru said still following his best friend.

“What type of situation are we talking about?” Suguru spoke as he reached out to grab one of the soda cans and pass it to Satoru.

"Does it matter?" Satoru asked frowning his eyebrows

Suguru nodded. “Normally you can be a solid 7, sometimes even an 8.”

“Huh?” Satoru blurted out in surprise. "But…?" He questioned, he knew there was something else that Suguru had left up in the air.

Suguru with a smile on his lips pointed at him. “When you are with her you can be an 11 and even more.”

Satoru opened and closed his lips again and again trying to formulate words. “An 11?” Suguru nodded. “Do I look so pathetic?” Suguru nodded again.

“But in a good way.”

“Is that even possible?” Satoru blurted out.

“Don't get me wrong. You are pathetic in the good sense of the word, you behave in a way that you would not do with others, you put aside that pride that you usually have and with it you show yourself the way you really are.” Suguru shrugged. “It's what happens when you're in love.”

“I’m not in love, I just have a crush on her.”

“Since the first time you saw her?”

“Well yeah…”

“Satoru, if telling that to yourself makes you sleep better at night, I won't contradict you.” He tapped his best friend’s shoulder.

“How is to be in love?” Satoru whispered.

“Hm?” Suguru looked at his friend.

“You are dating Kyoko and you are death serious about it. So, you must know right?” He said. “Listen, I know I had girlfriends in the past but I doubt I was in love with any of them, so I need to know what’s to be in love with someone.”

“What does she mean to you?”

“Birdie?” Suguru nodded. “She…”

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Tags: @lavender-hvze, @crybabytoru, @sanriosatoru, @norvacaine, @sadmonke, @faetoraa , @hexipessimistic, @gojoful , @kitzusune, @sh0jun , @manyno

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[spacingstars]

Technically these thoughts were inspired by @battlekilt's response to this post I just needed a space to luxuriate in the sauce of my own thoughts lol.

Generally, there are two points to my stream of thoughts here:

One, the personal element of Rex knowing about Anakin and Padme’s marriage.

Two, the professional element of Rex knowing about Anakin and Padme’s marriage.

I’ll first get into the weeds of point one:

By and large, Star Wars canon does not go into overt detail on exactly how it was that Rex found out about Anakin's marriage; how this occurred tends to be a matter of conjecture more often than not—usually pitted down to a matter of accident. Either comically or more seriously. I don't bring this up to disparage this take. I, in fact, held to it myself upon my first watch of TCW! But I've since reevaluated that position and have come to a completely different conclusion altogether:

Anakin told Rex intentionally.

My reasoning for this is down to a number of things, particularly due to the series of TCW novels that were written to tie into the first few seasons of TCW. The one I am primarily discussing here is Star Wars: No Prisoners, and shoving aside any other opinions that I have on this book, it holds some specific moments from Anakin about Rex that really validated the change in thought process I had the more I analyzed Anakin and Rex’s relationship.

Generally, I had before assumed it was a matter of accident (in past scenarios, I most often thought of the confession coming about from a moment where the prospect of survival was not the most cheery of outlooks); the reason as to why I held such a thought process is because Anakin’s marriage is generally his most guarded secret, he was unwilling to tell anybody about it, and in such a context, it becomes easy to assume that Rex finding out was a fluke, nothing more.

However, the more I started to really pick at Anakin and Rex’s relationship, the more I started to think it would be a lot more interesting if Anakin intentionally told Rex about the marriage.

In the past, I came about this mainly from the idea that part of what makes Anakin & Rex so interesting to me is the two-way loyalty that stretches between them, the way Rex occupies a unique space in the list of Anakin’s relationships. TCW itself frequently speaks of the trust they have in each other, to the extent other characters (like Padme herself, seen in TCW S07:E02, during the holocall scene between her and Anakin, and in No Prisoners itself) notice it. And with that in mind, I thought, more and more, it made more sense to me that Anakin had told Rex intentionally. It’s clear, given moments in the ROTS novelization, that Anakin didn’t want to shun this aspect of his life into secrecy:

from Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith

(This is not the only instance of Anakin expressing a desire to leave the Order in the ROTS novelization; his behaviors in ROTS itself are also indicative of this desire to me (his lack of care about getting caught with Padme in the moment she reveals her pregnancy,) and his quote of “I understand wanting to walk away from the Order,” when Ahsoka walks away from the Order during the Wrong Jedi arc. Which, if you want a short explanation for why I think Anakin stayed despite expressing multiple times a desire to leave, there are many little pieces and layers to it, but the primary conclusion I’ve come to is that Anakin stayed out of a sense of duty, particularly related to ending the war. But that’s not what this post is about.)

This leads me to believe that Anakin wanted to confide in someone—wanted someone who he could trust to share this part of him, and given the loyalty and trust he holds in Rex—and I’d also wager it’s down to Rex’s demeanor—it was easier for Anakin to tell Rex than anybody else. Of course, this was all my own conjecture! This was just me taking bits and pieces of what we have of these characters and their circumstances and affixing them into a different configuration to explain something that wasn’t elaborated on in canon.

Of course, or so I thought, because Star Wars: No Prisoners has quite the interesting scenes, scenes that do elaborate upon this.

from Star Wars: No Prisoners

also from Star Wars: No Prisoners

It’s so fascinating to me that Anakin thinks Rex is someone he owes it to tell, and doesn’t that just speak of how highly Anakin regards Rex? He’s able to think that Rex deserves to know, and not just that, but that Anakin thinks Rex would understand. Anakin describing Rex as not just professionally loyal but personally loyal is a sentiment that really strikes to the core of why I think Anakin was comfortable enough to tell Rex; because ultimately, Rex has not just given him his professional loyalty, the loyalty expected of a soldier, but he's also given the loyalty of his friendship. I really don’t think it’s a stretch to say that the feeling is mutual between them. The way Rex speaks of Anakin in Star Wars: Rebels is so damn fond. I really do think Anakin told Rex, intentionally, not just for the professional aspect of it, which I will get into shortly, but because Anakin wanted to have someone he could trust and confide in; Anakin has trust and faith in Rex, the same as Rex has trust and faith in Anakin.

from Star Wars: Age of Republic short story "501 Plus One"

And, returning to the discussion surrounding the screenshots from No Prisoners, obviously, there’s even more there, what with Anakin thinking about how he can’t just leave his men to suffer (it shows consistency in his character, in regards to the loyalty he shows his men because his thoughts here reflect those in the Umbara arc, where he refused to leave, even on orders from Palpatine, until Rex reassured him he could handle it. Which is just... it drives me batty, but my thoughts on that moment from Umbara are not strictly relevant to this post.) And part of that conniption is born out of the loss of his mother! Because he faults himself for being unable to save her, and now he's left with an all-consuming desire to ensure no one under his care dies, which, of course, will inevitably lead to Anakin being consumed by his own conniptions about death itself through his visions of Padme dying in ROTS. (I love how many layers I can peel back and examine from this one moment.)

I also have to emphasize that the biggest thing is that Anakin didn’t even tell Palpatine about his marriage. Palpatine, Palpatine, someone who had been a confidant for Anakin for so long, Palpatine, more than anyone, most certainly knows the most about Anakin; he’s the only one who truly understood how Anakin ticked, and he used that knowledge to disastrous effect.

Which to me, just reinforces how incredible it is that Anakin felt comfortable enough with Rex to tell him about his marriage.

Now, No Prisoners doesn’t actually contain a scene where Anakin tells Rex, but given his thoughts it’s very likely Rex was told shortly after the events of the book.

Now, for point 2:

Which is that, in essence, when Anakin remarks that Rex needs to know about this secret so he can freely contact him or otherwise know about the whereabouts of his location in case they get orders and Anakin, along with the 501st, need to be shipped out effective immediately.

This is a readiness issue.

Readiness is the ability of a military force to engage in assigned tasks and/or missions upon orders.

Anakin being upfront about his marriage to Rex on this principle is most certainly going to get Rex in agreement* because Rex would be aware of the logistical importance of maintaining readiness. Anakin and Rex are on the same page here because, ultimately, no one else is going to better understand these aspects of the continued function of an armed force than a clone; they're clone soldiers.

*Which, additionally, regarding the argument that Rex ends up in a precarious situation for knowing about Anakin and Padme’s marriage, upon further examination of this, I do not think this holds water either. I say this primarily because, ultimately, Anakin, in being married to Padme, has not broken any of the GAR’s regulations. The issue of Anakin’s marriage is of concern to the Jedi, not the GAR. And Rex is not beholden to the Jedi’s religious doctrine; Anakin is, and unless you want to argue that the Order would crack down on Rex in retribution for aiding one of its members in hiding a marriage that’s expressly against their rules… nothing would happen to Rex because ultimately the issue of Anakin and Padme’s marriage is only an issue with regards to, primarily, the Jedi Order, which is not an authority that Rex is behold to; Rex is beholden to the GAR, and, as I said, Anakin being married is not breaking any regulations I can think of… I also find it hard to believe that the GAR would be pressed about a secret marriage when much of their natborn soldier base is also likely to be married. In fact, given my previous comments about readiness, the GAR is likely to take Rex’s stance on the matter.

Rex and Anakin are on the same page regarding the issue of his marriage for both the personal reasons of it and the professional.

And, to address Rex's awkwardness about covering for Anakin in TCW S07:E02:

Rex's awkwardness about having to cover for Anakin and Padme in TCW S07:E02 is presented more as a moment of humor juxtaposed against the earnest conversation between Anakin and Padme as they discuss Anakin and Rex's relationship; it's meant to be a funny-sweet moment regarding the relationship between them. This entire moment is meant to show the familiarity Anakin and Rex have with each other, to the point they have a system worked out between each other when Rex needs to cover for Anakin, which I should also say the fact that Rex is willing to lend his gear** to Anakin for this cover story is something I consider to be a big display of trust, it's very much a classic "friend covers friend," kind of moment.

**That helmet is important to Rex's identity. It is, in effect, his face; it is a custom helmet, donning his signature jaig eyes; it is what most people are going to think when they hear Captain Rex; it is, effectively, Rex trusting Anakin enough to hand over a vital part of his identity.

Everything about this moment screams familiarity to me in the way Anakin and Rex conduct themselves with each other; I find it quite telling that Rex is comfortable enough to tell Anakin they don't have time for what Anakin is suggesting they do in front of the bad batch. Rex is essentially saying no to something that can read as an order from his commanding officer to other clones. The fact that Rex is comfortable enough with Anakin to do so is massive, and as I've said before it shows the familiarity and comfort the two have with each other in their personal relationship. When Anakin first implores Rex to provide cover; Rex's insistence on them not having time for that—to me—less indicates that Rex doesn't like covering for Anakin, but more so that Rex is fixated on the mission because he just got a glimmer of hope that Echo is still alive.

It should also be said, Rex is simply awkward; it's just a facet of his personality. He's an awkward dork in armor.

With all that said, to paraphrase a quote from the post that started this ramble, Rex was one of Anakin’s best friends. (And I personally think that the feeling is mutual given the numerous times Rex has expressed similar sentiments towards Anakin.) :3c

It should also be said that much of this post was made much more coherent thanks to @battlekilt, who was also a great help in fleshing out much of these thoughts, especially those pertaining to Anakin and Rex's interactions in TCW S07:E02.

#The TCW novels are very important to me for numerous reasons but mostly the fact that they vindicated #many of the thoughts I developed about Anakin and Rex's dynamics lol #Anakin Skywalker #Captain Rex #Star Wars #Long Post #Space's Fandom Stuff #Space's Chatter #<- there look I have a meta tag now lol #Fandom Stuff

[gowns]

i think one of the obstacles to me accepting my homosexuality was the fact that bisexuality / pansexuality is often presented as being the most "open minded" way of being... like "love is love, man, the parts don't matter, the names don't matter." "hearts not parts." and in one sense, well, no, it's not exactly the parts, but the parts are a component, as well as the overall body, spirit, smell, vibe, sweat, walk, way of being... and for whatever reason, i only experience desire with women. finding people attractive or fun to be around, sure, that can apply to anyone. but it's like... for so long, i kept trying to fit into this long wide box when i was actually always drawn to, and ultimately more comfortable, in a little square box. like i would love to be "open minded" and feel desire for absolutely everyone; free love, baby. but that's not how i'm wired. and the moment when i gave up trying to be the "open minded bisexual" and just let myself be a dyke it's like this layer of shame and repression was peeled off of me. like i had a plaster mask that shattered.

[aurumacadicus]

92 or 14 maybe? 🤔

Going with 14!

--

Prince Anthony was picking his feathers out again.

Steve wordlessly set his shield aside and walked over to grab his hands, yanking them down, away from his wings. "Your highness--"

"I know!" Prince Anthony exclaimed defensively. His wrists jerked in Steve's grip, though, back toward his wings, and he wilted under Steve's stern glare. "I know," he repeated miserably.

It broke Steve's heart, but he turned to grab the picking glove, and while Prince Anthony obediently stuck his hands in so the mouth could be cinched tight around his wrists, he couldn't help but think it wasn't fair. Maybe Prince Anthony wouldn't be picking himself bald if he didn't have to choose a suitor in the next three days.

Prince Anthony had always been put off by the cock parties, as he'd called them--"cockerel balls" had always seemed to lend a layer of refinement to them that they didn't deserve, he'd said. Mostly, it was young cocks approaching and trying to impress prospective hens, and as Prince Anthony had a sizeable fortune behind him, he'd been the one most flocked to. It had made him suspicious, nervous even, of anyone's attention. Steve had watched, heart sinking with every ball, as grabby kids who barely knew what to do with a cloaca fawned all over Prince Anthony for the chance at his wing in matrimony.

It had given him nothing but a dim view on mating parties and cocks in general, which was probably why he'd gotten away with his secret for so long. He was so visibly disgusted after each cockerel ball that everyone assumed even if he was pregnant, he'd get rid of it as quickly as possible. Only when the rumors about his sudden cravings for sardines and almonds got loud enough to reach the royal court did it become necessary for Prince Anthony to undergo medical examination. And, well, when it was found to be true, that a royal hatchling was on the way, an unwed, pregnant royal was deemed a hazard to... what was it they had said? Public decency and the dignity of the crown?

Either way, it meant that another cockerel ball had been set up as quickly as possible, and Prince Anthony no longer had the choice of saying no to all comers if he wanted to keep his financial backing, even if he plucked himself bare in the meantime.

Steve watched Prince Anthony begin to pace, feeling helpless. His prince was in trouble, and he could do nothing of import to stop it. Prince Anthony looked like a caged animal as he walked up and down the carpet. He wasn't even showing yet. Was the palace hoping to get him wed immediately and lie about the hatchling being early? Someone would be bound to talk. That's what had started this mess, after all.

"I suppose," Prince Anthony began, voice halting and pained as he turned to pace in front of the window, obviously hoping the sun's rays would help him feel better. "That Lady Pepper is. Nice enough. Could pass the egg off as hers if we married."

"I suppose," Steve agreed, hoping he sounded noncommittal instead of just bitter.

"Or. Or that kind--Bruce? I think?"

"The alchemist Bruce was very kind," Steve answered with a nod.

"Or I could... I could just..." Prince Anthony stopped in front of the window, staring outside. Then, as quickly as he stopped, he turned around, eyes wide and beseeching. "Run away with me."

Steve's mouth dropped open in shock. He blinked at Prince Anthony slowly, unable to comprehend what he'd just been asked. Prince Anthony was a well-loved public figure, and while Steve was famous for his work in the war, he'd never been... someone people wanted to see running the country. In fact, if anyone ever found out that he was the one who had henned the heir apparent, he likely wouldn't be able to see him again. Prince Anthony was royalty. Steve had clawed his way up from the streets. He was only Prince Anthony's personal guard because there had been several attempts on his life, and Steve was the best at what he did.

"Run... away...?" Steve finally repeated, still not quite believing it.

"I'm just a figurehead for this stupid country," Tony spat, hope giving way to anger. "They only kept royalty on as a tradition they didn't know how to quit, as a show. I don't have any real power. And that's how they can bully me into getting married, picking a cock I don't even like all that much to be the legitimate father of my egg--So. So let's run away."

There were many reasons why Steve should say no. The country loved Prince Anthony, for one--he was only behind his late mother in terms of charity, and was quickly gaining on her record; despite the fact that he had no real power, he always did his best to influence parliament to vote in favor of the people; and the whole country had collectively swooned when a tabloid had leaked a picture of him holding a baby at the hospital with the quote 'babies need to be held' splashed under it. Steve was a nobody, come up from nothing, and most people did not have good things to say about him coming up from nothing because of the war.

Prince Anthony's gaze was steady, though, when Steve met his eyes. He was certain of his decision. That was one of the things Steve liked about him--he knew what he wanted, and if he could get it, he eagerly went through with it. And if he couldn't get it, he was a gracious loser.

"Your highness," Steve began with a sigh.

"I don't care if we're poor," Prince Anthony continued before he could voice his dissent, the determination in his voice making Steve's mouth snap shut in surprise. "You'll take care of us. And I--I have an education. I can get a job to help. You helped make this egg," he added sharply. "Are you refusing to take responsibility? And could you really just let someone else raise your chick?"

If he told himself it was for the better, to make sure the chick got everything it needed or wanted, he probably could. Prince Anthony would love it enough for the both of them, even if his new spouse only tolerated the chick. It wasn't ideal, but then, neither was getting Tony laden with egg before marriage. A marriage that couldn't happen because of who he was and who Prince Anthony had turned out to be. Steve opened his mouth to tell him in no uncertain terms that he would not be taking the spot from a more deserving rooster.

But he didn't want to. And Tony was clearly showing he didn't want to either. So he looked up at Tony and nodded sharply. "Alright, Tony."

"Tony," he repeated in a whisper, shocked. Steve only ever called him that in bed; he needed the separation of work and intimacy, and it helped to remind Tony, too, that he couldn't reach out and touch whenever he wanted. Steve watched as Tony's mouth spread into a wide smile as he lunged toward him, hooking his bound hands behind Steve's neck and pulling him down for an overjoyed kiss just bordering on desperation. Apparently, eschewing his proper name was all the real confirmation he needed of Steve's feelings.

Steve threw his wings up in a mating display just to make sure there was no misunderstanding.

#aurumacadicus answers #sunnysideprincess #1-161 stony ficlet challenge #stony