#i am in LOVE WITH HIM he is SO effervescent

[myflagmeansace]

Hi all! It's taking a lot longer to caption Samba's BTS improv video, but here's the video without captions and a separate transcript for now! 😘

Scene 1

Ed is determined to banter about Jeff's Inn by the Sea after gravy basket Hornigold ruined it.

Ed (proudly announcing what he does at the inn): My specialty is seafood. Um and I cook the sea...food.

Stede (completely and earnestly smitten): You cook it perfectly, by the way.

Ed (sweetly accepting his compliment): Thank you! 😊

Stede (so appreciative of his love's fictional cooking skills): I love that.

Ed (remembering how well Stede pours drinks *possibly inspired by the Ed draped across a bar fanart Taika called out in the IMDB The Outfronts interview*): Um and you are the cocktail man.

Stede (so excited about his role): I am the cocktail man!

Ed: Yeah!

Stede (really playing into his role): I make a drink or two.

Ed (a little dazed at imagining Stede as a cocktail man pouring him several drinks): Yep oh yeah! Um and more than two sometimes.

Stede (feeling a little cheeky): Sometimes we get on it, don't we? Yeah!

Ed (picking up on what Stede is putting down but also fuck off Hornigold, Ed is totally a people person at this fictional inn!): Yeah, yeah! You know, we get on it. You work the back of house, I work the front of house.

Stede: Yes!

Ed: Yep.

Stede (recognizing the importance of taking turns, in more than one way 😉): Sometimes I work the front of house.

Ed (agreeing to being a versatile partner): Yeah and then I-you give me a turn working the back.

Stede: Yes.

Ed: Yeah.

Stede (shameless at this point): You like that, don't you?

Ed (a little flustered but keeping his cool): Aw, I mean, I-you know, it's just nice for a change now and then, you know?

Stede (liking the thought of keeping Ed satisfied): Something different. Yeah!

Ed (admitting to himself why he likes working the back): Yeah! It's just nice to be in control.

*Stede proudly gazing at Ed*

Scene 2

Taika: *breaks, closing his eyes and smiling*

Rhys: *wheezing/laughing*

Scene 3

Stede (leaning into his role of cocktail man, expert of drinks): Well imagine us as...a mixed drink.

Ed (absolutely smitten, ready to listen and pressing his finger against his lips to calm the urge to press his lips all over the dork in front of him): I am imagining it!

Stede (really struggling to capture the expertise of a cocktail man because he's more of a gardening guy so he can't think of a drink good enough to compare Ed to so he goes with whatever sounds cool and tough): You're the hard...sort of...

Ed (smile falls and starts feeling sad because Stede is calling him hard when he's really just a soft kitty princess but he'll go along with it because he gets it 😿 he copies his hand gestures to appear agreeable): I'm the hard one.

Stede (sweating bullets):...rustic...

Ed (definitely not liking the word rustic and tucking in his paws, I mean hands): Yeah.

Stede (knowing he’s completely boned it as a cocktail man): Ummm...

Ed (trying to save the moment and compares himself to a rare whiskey): The bitter one like a whiskey.

Stede (agreeing out of desperate relief): Bitter whiskey at the bottom. Yes!

Ed (remembering he doesn't actually like whiskey but he does like rum): Yeeah. Like yes, yeah. I'm like the whiskey or the rum.

Stede (changing the focus to distract Ed from his clumsy cocktail man moment): And I'm the fluffy kind of ✨️epervescent✨️…

(new word alert lol I think he meant effervescent)

Ed (entertained by the word choice): Ohhhh!

Stede (playing it up with jazz hands):...tang!

Ed (doesn't dare correct his excited boyfriend): Epervescent!

Stede: Yes!

Ed (gestures at his bubbly boyfriend): Yeah! You're the bubbly one!

Stede (wiggling in excitement): That just jumps in on top!

Ed: The Tang!

Stede: Yeah!

Ed (trying out a pickup line): Yeah you're the tang to my tong.

Stede (has no idea what a tong is but he loves rhyming): Ahhh! You're the zangy, I'm the tangy!

Ed (absolutely enamored and giggling with joy at Stede's flirting): Aw The Zangy and the Tangy! We should call the joint that! The Seaside and…

Stede (high pitched mating call): Tangy and Zangy!

Ed (falls apart laughing, holding on to Stede): ...Tangy Zang-!

Scene 4

Ed (giving Stede a boyfriend test): We're very different you see. We're cut from different cloths us two. Um but somehow when you stitch that cloth together...

Stede (appreciating Ed's deep thoughts): Mmm.

Ed: What does it make?

Stede (passing the test with flying colors): Well, a beautiful seam! ❤️

Ed: 💘😳🥰🫠

Scene 5

Ed (taking the opportunity to analyze and get near the Stiddies): We're leather and silk.

Stede (oblivious, trying to romantically serenade Ed): Leather and silk!

Ed: It's uh...*begins nervously singing too* and all things milk!

Stede (heartfelt but slightly confused crooning): ...together!

Ed (trying his best to rhyme): ...and from different ilks.

Ed (starts over, pulling it together as he goes): Leather and silk, from different ilks...

Stede (too stubborn to be apart from Ed even in song):...together we....

*Stede waits, anticipating a masterpiece finish*

Ed (hyperfocusing on dairy and possibly Stiddies at this point): ...from the udder...of life...we make milk!

*Stede remains utterly still as his brain catches up with Ed's*

*Ed finishes, baffled by his own song but he stands by those words because life really is like a cow's udder, and leather and silk are of different ilks, and in a strange and cosmic way, they do indeed make milk 🙂‍↕️🫶🏽*

#i took some creative liberties #but i think it works #ofmd #ofmd s2 #stede bonnet #edward teach #our flag means death #rhys darby #taika waititi #bts transcript #ofmd bts

[rainymoodlet]

Kiss Me in Komorebi+ 🌸

[Episode One] First Impressions.

introducing Ezra Ruíz by @kawaiishitty!

oh my god i want to pack ezra into a suitcase and steal him away!! he was such a font of delight and mischief the moment he walked up to dan - so much so that he somehow skipped the entire introductions process to scare??? him??? it was adorable, but it also means that we have no idea what ezra’s first impression of dan was! that being said, he definitely made a good one on our bachelor!

dan doesn’t like mischief interactions, so i was really surprised when jester hat after jester hat went off without a hitch!! he did end up getting tense after one too many electric buzzers, though!

Part 6/22 | prev. | beg. | next

#ts4 #ts4 edit #ts4 gameplay #ts4 screenshots #ts4 challenge #ts4 bachelor challenge #;kmik #sim: daniel #ezra ruiz by kawaiishitty #also gdi i love your username sm #but yeah uh i want to RUN TF AWAY WITH EZRAAAA #i am in LOVE WITH HIM he is SO effervescent #he broke off their conversation to go make a drink #and lounge by the pond like i??? #i am obsessed with him #it honestly fits his character so much that his impression of dan #is a mystery to us #because ezra is the kind of guy as written #that its very hard to tell when he’s being serious or funny or mean or nice #and so i think dan will have an interesting time not #really understanding where ezra’s head is at 😎 #i hope he’s written alright 💪🥹

[joeloverture]

fair's fair | pervy!dbf!joel x f!reader

masterlist | notifs blog

pairing: pervy!dbf!joel x pervy!f!reader summary: [no outbreak] joel shoves you in his sweaty pits as a 'joke'. warnings: (18+ mdni) pervy!dbf!joel, age gap (early to mid 20s/38), somewhat mutual pining & sexual tension, joel in a wifebeater and jorts, reader has hair, smacking joel's ass like god intended, degradation, sweaty!joel, musk kink, armpit kink!!!, coming untouched, joel calls reader 'kiddo', 2 spanks, m!masturbation [no use of y/n] word count: 2.1k a/n: in another life, i'd be sorry for this fic. in this life, i am not. as always, a shoutout to the effervescent @lovesickonmybed for moodboard curation + creating this au. love to @seventeenpins for taking a glimpse at this + inspiring me. ty esquire team.... hooooly shit. pls suspend your disbelief if you can't come untouched we're here for a good time not a realistic one. btw you're all pussies for chickening out of the pit fics you 'planned' to write after this esquire photo fell into our laps /j

You awake to a rattling crash on the other side of the wall that you share with your dad’s combination garage/man cave. With an exaggerated groan, you peel yourself out of your creased sheets. Maybe the raccoons that have been terrorizing your garbage cans have finally broken into the garage. You’re still in your pajamas — a low-cut tank top and some bloomers that are entirely too short on you — when you rub the sleep from your eyes and shove your feet into your slippers to investigate. 

The house is quieter than dust so early in the morning. Your dad’s out at work, and the rest of the neighborhood is just beginning to wake up. There’s the tstststststs of the Adler’s sprinkler system and the birds are chirping. In the mudroom, you snatch up a broom and wrap your fist around it. You listen through the paneling of the door for any hissing or scuttling, but hear nothing. You are not looking to get rabies today.

You poke your head out of the door, broom pointed at the ground like a staff. Immediately, you’re blinded by a slice of sunshine cutting through the very much open garage.

You’re about two seconds away from sprinting back inside to call 911 when you see the unkempt, sunkissed hair of none other than Joel Miller.

You set the broom gently back against the wall. Joel’s not a threat – at least not to anything but that traitor between your legs. He’s just your dad’s buddy; drinking buddy, fishing buddy, jack-of-all-trades buddy. He’s also no stranger to those borderline goo-goo eyes you give him. How could you not? He’s just so broad and muscled and God, you swear up and down that you stare more at his ass than anyone has ever stared at yours.

Sometimes, if you’re lucky, he’ll even give you shit about it. Bending over directly in your line of sight at block parties, ‘play wrestling’ with you on the dock by the lake whenever you jokingly call him an old man, or, in one very special instant, giving your ass a smack that sent you into an hours long tizzy.

You deserve to give him shit about it, too.

After all, he’s the one ferreting around in your dad’s garage in the wee hours of the morning. You pad into the garage, footsteps muffled by your slippers as you navigate around your dad’s pickup. You catch a better look at Joel when you pass the truck bed. And, for better or for worse, he’s dressed like a slut.

His ribbed white wifebeater stretches over his wide chest, grass stains scattered along the small of his back. Sweat darkens the hems of his shirt under his armpits, glistening and beading on the back of his neck, too. In true dad fashion, he even has on jorts. He’s bent over your dad’s tool bench, thumbing around an assortment of screwdrivers. His denim-covered ass sticks out. A smile spreads across your face.

You slip around the truck and take soft step after soft step until you’re right behind him. You can’t help but notice a cocktail of his pheromones and B.O. surrounding him. He must’ve been outside for a while now with all of the stains he’s accumulated on his shirt already. You keep your breathing muted so he can’t hear you as you reach out and — smack!

Joel shrieks, shooting upright. His head slams into the shelf overhead and a few bolts go toppling onto the concrete below. He cusses like a sailor as his hand goes up to rub the back of his head, nursing where a lump will probably be in a few hours time. Joel whips around to see you, smothering your giggles behind your hand. “You little shit,” he huffs, still scratching at his head. You don’t miss how his cheeks are firetruck red. “The fuck are ya doin’?”

“Me? The fuck are you doing, Miller? Stomping around my dad’s garage at, like, the asscrack of dawn–”

“Nine in the mornin’ ain’t the asscrack of dawn, sweetcheeks,” Joel says. Then, he holds up a set of pliers. “Mower shit the bed. I’m thinkin’ Sarah stole my pliers to make necklaces, but she hasn’t fessed up yet. Your pops said I could borrow his.” He stretches, giving you a long whiff of his scent. The groan he lets out stirs something in your stomach, much to your chagrin.

“I think the mower is the least of your worries,” you say, wrinkling your nose. “You reek. Shower shit the bed, too?”

“You try doin’ yard work in 90 degree heat, kiddo. See how much you smell like that strawberry raspberry peach whatever-the-fuck soap you’re usin’.”

You roll your eyes so hard you’re surprised you don’t see the back of your skull. “Rosemary eucalyptus,” you correct under your breath.

“Hmm, what was that?” Joel asks, tossing the pliers down onto the workbench. “Gotta speak up.”

“Rosemary eucalyptus,” you say. “But I bet you wouldn’t know. What do you use? 18 in 1?”

Joel grunts. “Real funny.” He takes a step closer to you, lips taut with a smirk. “How ‘bout you find out?”

You don’t have time to question what the hell he means – he just cups the back of your head with one of his wide palms and shoves your face directly into his closest sweaty pit. “Mmmmph!” you protest, mouth sealed shut against the thatch of hair that’s spattered across his skin. You hold your breath for as long as you can, but eventually, you’re forced to suck in a breath through your squished nose. His musk, sweet and just as sharp, fills your airways. Your clit all but jerks between your legs in humiliation, drawing a whine out of your throat.

Joel chuckles, ruffling your hair. It’s enough to make your thighs clench. “You’re a little freak, huh?” He presses harder on the back of your head, so much so that you almost get a mouthful of his underarm.

“Youuu dick!” you try to say without opening your mouth too far. It comes out muffled against his sweat-pearled skin. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to push him off of you.

Another wry chuckle comes from above. Joel bends his arm so that his elbow is wrapped around the back of your head, effectively trapping you in his funk. “Come on, huff ‘em. Practically fuckin’ asking for it earlier, all ‘a that mouthin’ off. So now you get a mouthful of my pits. Fair’s fair, kiddo.”

Embarrassment ribbons through your body, the kind that makes you leak into your panties against your will. Still looking for a way out, you squirm against his ironclad hold.

It’s only good for making him land a heavy-hitting slap across your ass. You yelp, a new wave of slick saturating the drenched gusset of your panties. You jump where you are, hips bucking into nothing – for escape or pressure, you’re not entirely sure. “Unless you wanna go over my knee instead?” Your face sears with humiliation.

Tentatively, you snuffle a bit against his pit, biting into your cheeks at his musk. It makes you cough a little bit – he’s been carrying the smell of cutting grass and his own sweat all morning.

“Yeah, thought so. But you can do better than that, sweetcheeks. I said huff, not fake an asthma attack.” You whimper, this time sucking in a longer breath. Here he is, holding you down, secure against his pit as you're left with no other option than to take what he gives you, when he gives it to you. All you can smell, feel, touch is just Joel, Joel, Joel. It makes you lightheaded.

Your clit is practically a kickdrum between your thighs, pulsing and doing more work than your head. You try to angle yourself so that you can rub your clit against Joel’s leg, but he puts a stop to that real quick. “Gettin’ all wound up just from being where ya belong, your pretty little face in my pit?” You mewl, reaching for Joel’s sides. You bunch your fists in the fabric of his wifebeater, and he allows it.

“Since you’re so eager to complain about it, how ‘bout you clean me up, huh?” He nudges his pit against your face again, and, confusedly, you furrow your brows. You can’t see much of him, but you do see the edge of his mouth tip up in satisfaction. “You got rocks for brains? Lick, kiddo.”

Hesitance drives the soft kitten lick of your tongue, swiping up and down across a very small portion of his pit. He loosens up on his grip on you, giving you the slightest bit more reign. You try to tell yourself that you’re scared of what he might do if you disappoint him, but hell if you don’t want this as much as he does, tongue, nose, face buried in his pits. Some sort of ultimate form of worship between the two of you.

You lave your tongue across his pit, eyes fluttering with each stroke. You swirl it in the crease of his arm, sucking his goddamn hairs clean with the fervor you’ve picked up. Enthused now, you bob your head up and down. Your clit responds, throbbing with a heartbeat of its own.

You’re panting, inhaling and exhaling him, lapping up his musk like a fucking dog, gone from reluctant to eager. Your clit twitches faster and faster, and you swear that arousal must be tacky on the insides of your thighs, leaking through your panties all over the front of your bloomers, but you can’t do anything about it. You can’t even grind against Joel – you can only slurp against his armpit, something like desperation having replaced all of your previous mortification from when he’d shoved you there in the first place.

You’re so preoccupied with pleasing him that you don’t even notice the thumping of your clit, picking up speed and pressure. Your body seizes in between your greedy little licks. You feel yourself weaken before you stiffen.

And maybe it’s the way Joel keeps groaning with each movement of your tongue. It could be how he exhales, “Kiddo,” in a raspy voice, both demeaning and endearing all at once. But in the end, it’s how he says, “Mmmm, such a good goddamn tongue. Bet it’d feel so good on my cock,” that breaks the dam between your legs.

You shudder, coming completely undone with little moans and whimpers in Joel’s arms without so much as a hand on your clit, just your face smothered in his pit. Drool runs down your lips and across your chin as you jerk and weaken in his grasp. If you weren’t so underwater, so far gone, you’d be able to hear him saying, “Fuck – whoa, whoa, whoa,” trying to stop you from falling on your ass in the middle of the garage. His hands card across your sides as he props you up against the workbench. Your vision blackens at the edges from the intensity of your orgasm, and you’re still coming, at least you think you are, when you blink yourself back to awareness. You’re wide-eyed, tears brimming at your waterline, incapacitated in a way that you didn’t know you could be.

“Holy shit,” you gasp when you finally fully come to, slumped over the workbench, still half-clinging to Joel. “Fuck.”

Joel looks stunned, looking you up and down as if he can’t get enough of you. His eyes land right between your thighs, where, sure enough, you’ve ruined your bloomers. You still feel like deadweight, and you struggle to stand upright. You’re not sure you’ve ever come so hard even with someone’s hands all over your. Joel’s glistening with even more sweat, and it’s impossible to miss the glaring bulge in his shorts. He clears his throat after a minute. “Oughta go get cleaned up before your daddy gets back for his lunch break, kiddo.”

You stumble upright, drenched in sweat yourself now, Joel’s lingering scent still pervading every breath you take. “Y-yeah,” you manage, nodding. You feel out of your own body, stumbling towards the door. You’re so wet that you can feel it with every goddamn step. Fuck Joel Miller, cocky piece of sh–

You’re immediately returned to your own body by the resounding swat Joel lands on your ass. You jump, shooting a glare over your shoulder. He puts his hands up, pleading innocence.

You’re not surprised when you crawl out of your shower, smelling of rosemary eucalyptus and dripping water all over the floor, only to see Joel’s mower abandoned in the middle of his yard. Even worse, you aren’t surprised in the slightest when you squint through your bedroom window, Joel sprawled out across his bed, hips bucking in-time with his fist before catching your eye and spraying ropes of cum all over his abdomen.

You mouth at him through the window with a taunting little wink, Clean yourself up this time.

#oh what i wouldnt give to get lost in that mans bottomless pits #vetty's words 𓇢𓆸 #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller/reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut

[moonstruckme]

HII I LOVE YOUR WORK SM!! I literally can't stop reading them 😭 I love you so much for making all of them !!

May I ask if we could get more of shy Remus?? As soon as I read the first one I immediately fell in love !

Thank you so much!! 🫶🏽

Hi lovely, thank you! Sorry this took me so long, I've wanted to write it ever since it came into my inbox but it took me forever to come up with an idea </3

cw: very vague implication of smut

shy!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

Remus looks surprised when he opens the door, and immediately after that embarrassed. For what, you never know. 

“Hi,” he says, lips curving into a smile as if of their own volition. “Um, I haven’t missed anything, have I?” 

You laugh. “No, you’re fine. I was just nearby and thought I might return your jumper.” 

It’s a half-truth. You’re ambushing him and you know it, but Remus’ reticent disposition means you know next to nothing about his life and after weeks of dating you’re really itching for a peek behind the curtain. You’ve brought chocolate muffins to make up for it. 

“Oh, that’s thoughtful of you.” Remus’ voice is soft as always, that adorable smile still playing on his lips until you both hear footsteps bounding down the stairs inside. He glances behind him, moving a bit more in front of the door. “While you’re here, maybe we could go have coffee or—” 

“Who’s that?” 

The voice seems like a sound of much dread for Remus, if his expression is anything to go off of. He ignores it, speaking only to you. 

“Or there’s a park just down the way—”

“Remus.” It’s a different voice this time, yet the effect upon Remus’ countenance is the same. “Who do you have there?” 

“Hi!” you say over his head, mutinous. 

“A girl?” Remus’ entire body seems to sag in resignation. “Remus Lupin, stop hiding her from us immediately.” 

“Sod off.” He says over his shoulder, as brash as you’ve ever heard him. It’s a bit thrilling. 

“I will not. Reveal your secrets, you dirty dog.” 

You actually do feel quite bad for Remus, a blush spreading all the way up to the tips of his ears, but he lets go of the doorframe, letting himself be wrestled out of the way. 

“Hello.” A dark-haired boy weasels his way into Remus’ place, giving you a salacious up-down. You raise your eyebrows at him, delighted. So this is who Remus associates with when he’s not with you. “My, you’re a pretty thing. And you’re here to see Remus?” 

“I am,” you confirm. “I’m here to bring back his jumper.” 

“Which would lead one to believe, “a second boy appears behind the first, both of them keeping Remus from reclaiming his spot at the door, “that you’ve seen him before.” 

You laugh. “I have. We’ve been dating a few weeks now.” 

“Remus!” The second bellows, eyes blowing comically wide behind his glasses. “Weeks? Weeks, and you haven’t said a word. How could you?” 

“I don’t suppose you have a bit of time on your hands,” the first boy says smoothly. 

“I’ve…” You check the time. “I do, actually.” 

He grins, wolflike. You’re not sure who the prey is. You worry it’s your date. 

“Yes!” The one with the glasses is effervescent, brimming with eagerness. It’s contagious, you find; you’re smiling too. “You have to come in, please.” 

You’re dying to, but you peer past them, locking eyes with Remus. He looks to be wishing for a swift and painless death, but he gives you a soft smile anyways. Nods. 

“Sure,” you say, “I could join you for a bit.” 

Some of the boisterous energy settles as they usher you inside, the need for urgency vanquished now that they’ve got you in their clutches. Begrudgingly, Remus introduces you, and the other two hassle him about taking off your coat and showing you where to put your shoes before he gets a chance to do either. Soon you’re settled comfortably in the armchair they tell you is Remus’ favorite. 

“Can I make you a cuppa?” Remus asks, and James and Sirius both oooh as he rolls his eyes. You nod at him, eyeing the other two amusedly. 

“He must really like you,” James says, “if he’s offering to make you tea.” 

“Hence why you’re not getting any,” Remus says over his shoulder as he stalks for the kitchen. 

“Prick,” Sirius calls after him. “We didn’t want any anyways.” But he crosses his arms, sulking back against the couch cushions. James, on the other hand, leans towards you. 

“So,” he says severely, “what are your intentions with our Remus?” 

A quiet sound of distress comes from the kitchen, but you all ignore it. “Your Remus?” you ask. 

James nods self-assuredly. “We’ve known him since primary school. If you two get married, I’ll be the one giving him away.” 

You raise your eyebrows. Remus’ head pops out of the kitchen, glaring daggers in a way you didn’t know he knew how. “You will not.” 

“What?” James looks gutted. 

“That’s not the point.” Sirius waves both of his friends off, though James looks like he would very much like to continue on the topic. “Tell us about you two, gorgeous. Where did you meet, how long have you been dating, has Remus told you where he hides his chocolates?” 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Remus says, coming back with your tea. He passes it to you carefully, handle out, and both you and James hiss at him for holding the hot part. 

“We haven’t even gotten her to answer anything yet,” Sirius complains. 

“It’s not her fault you haven’t given her the chance.” Remus perches on the armrest of the chair. It's probably so he can avoid sitting next to his nosy friends, but pride swells in your chest anyway at being chosen. You take his hand, and he squeezes your fingers in response. 

Sirius coos. “Only a few weeks of dating and he’s already holding her hand. I’m so proud.” 

You grin up at Remus, knowing what you could say to really shock his friends but not wanting to embarrass him further. He’s already flustered enough that his scars stand out in stark contrast against his flushed skin, but his look softens as he meets your eyes. Something about him eases, a small smile curving his lips. 

You decide it’s permission enough. 

“You’ve been a bit bolder than that, haven’t you, handsome?” 

James and Sirius erupt in hoots and hollers. Remus looks like he might well fall off the edge of the chair for how stiff he’s gotten. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. It’s burning. “I’m not trying to torment you. We can go be alone in your room, if you like.” 

“No-o.” James waggles a finger at you. “Now that we know what you’re up to, you won’t be getting him alone in our house. You’re set on corrupting him!”

#shy!remus #shy!remus x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x self insert #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin scenario #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin oneshot #marauders #marauders fanfiction #the marauders #marauders era #marauders fandom #hp marauders #marauders x reader

[klaineownsmysoul]

Sometimes I like to sit and think about how much Arthur Fox would have loved Alex. Loved his charm and his effervescence, his intelligence and his sense of humor. Mostly though, I think he would have loved how fiercely and passionately he loves his son. How he loves and wants the man Henry is and not the prince he was born as - the poetry loving, Austen quoting, witty and thoughtful letter writing man. He'd love the way Alex wants to love Henry out loud. How he isn't ashamed to want to hold his hand in public. He'd love the way he looks at Henry - like his whole world has narrowed down to one person - and how much he hates being separated from him.

He'd love the way Alex gets Henry's snarky sense of humor (and is ok being on the receiving end of said humor) and know that it's a sign of Henry feeling comfortable enough with Alex to let his walls down and let him in. He'd love that Henry has never been or will ever be a notch on his bedpost, NDA or no. He'd love the way Alex fights for him and them and so desperately wants Henry to realize that he's worth it and that his feelings and desires are valid and not something to be pushed down and aside. That he matters. He'd love the way Alex isn't afraid to tell the entire world that he's in love with Henry and that loving him has made his life better. The way that all Alex has to hear is Henry telling him he's not ok and he's dropping anything and everything to fly across an ocean to comfort him and remind him that he is loved and not alone.

He'd love the way Alex has no qualms about standing up to anyone - including the actual King of England - to defend Henry. I have a feeling he'd be tempted to throw hands to anyone who even deigns to look at Henry in a way he dislikes.

He'd love the way Alex's naturally outgoing and extroverted personality deflects and absorbs the spotlight that Henry doesn't want or feel comfortable in - much in the way that his friendship with Pez works.

Conversely, he'd love the way that Henry takes care of Alex. The way he keeps him watered and fed and not subsisting solely on coffee and a reheated piece of pizza every other day or so. How he calms the noise in his head but never makes him feel like he's too much. How he loves the fire and passion that Alex does everything with and always wants to hear what he's thinking. He'd love how perfectly suited they are to each other and he'd be so happy that his sweet Henry has found someone who knows exactly how special he is and loves him for just that reason.

Yeah...so this might have gotten away from me a little bit. I probably should have started with "in this essay I will..." because I am incapable of summing up my feelings in any kind of short and condensed way. I love these characters, this movie, the book, and all the extraordinary fanfic written about them. I'd warn you off me if they ever announce a sequel, but I'm pretty certain my behavior will be no different from the last 5 months.

#red white and royal blue #alex x henry #firstprince #happy 5 months of rwrb to all who celebrate #the brainrot as the kids say is real #these two have captured my heart and made my life immeasurably better

[dottedsilktie]

Red Chevy baby

Spring cleaning always gets you emotional, especially when it's time for Toji to try - and fail - to get rid of your beloved old red Chevy. This year, you take a trip down memory lane and Toji takes it as a chance to share a cautionary tale with your son, Megumi.

cw : +18, smut, car sex, swearing and mild degradation, love confessions, breeding kink, piv, unprotected sex, pet names, fluff

Toji is standing in your home’s garage, a hand on his hip, his sharp gaze zeroed in on the old Camaro collecting dust in a dark corner. You watch him from where you’re lounging on the long chair he’s set up for you on the nearby grass. It’s a scene you’re familiar with, one you’ve seen unfold many times before but it still strikes the same bittersweet feeling in you.

He mutters something to himself, now putting both hands on his hips and widening his stance. It almost looks like he’s staring down the car, a silent battle of wits. The old cherry red carcass is the same as ever - impassible, quiet, happy to rest after years of being well-loved. You peer at it over the rim of your sunglasses and it looks like an apparition, specks of muted carmine flashing through a dust haze. What used to be sleek lines, is now worn out and dulled, and somehow more charming than when Toji first bought it. You still remember the first time he’d picked you up in it.

It was his first big splurge : clean money, he’d sworn on his life and when you told him it didn’t mean anything, he doubled down and swore on the brand new pony car. He took you for a test drive in the city, a little self-satisfied smirk on his face the whole ride. Above all, you remember the way his smug smirk grew into a genuine boyish smile when you finally told him how proud he’d made you. It felt like he’d atoned for everything he’d done in his wretched life before you. It was also a tacit promise, one of a better life – a clean one.

He kept true to his words after that and the little Camaro was his witness through it all. In every little scratch to its bumper, there’s a story you reminisce about with misty eyes.

Toji snaps you out of your little daydream, grumbling “I’m getting rid of her for good this time”. He turns to face you with an already wavering determination. You’ve had the same talk countless times before ; his going in the garage for spring cleaning, gauging the car up and threatening to get rid of it, only to come back inside with a defeated air and a mumbled promise to do it some other time.

It’s endearing, the ill-masked sentimentality of it all.

So you play along, sighing and getting up from your chair, strutting to him with a wry smile. “Are you now ?”, you quip with a quirked brow. “Hell yeah I am, it’s just a pile of junk ; why the fuck should we keep it ? Just takes up space”, he grumbles.

The feigned irritation in his voice doesn’t match the softness in his eyes or the sappy upwards twitch of his scarred lip when he stares at the Camaro for a tad too long. You press yourself against him then, your arms encircling his waist, “Or we can just keep it, maybe take it out for a drive some time. You could even repair it, hand it down to Megs !”. You sound hopeful and you feel Toji relax in your hold until you mention Megumi, then he freezes and stares down at you, gaze nothing short of horrified.

“Absolutely not, do you want the fucker to knock up some girl in there ? We both know this car is fucking cursed or something”. He shivers against you and you just laugh. Your effervescent fit of giggles soothes his initial horror, and he lets out a deep laugh of his own.

There’s a beat of silence when you share a knowing grin, both reminiscing on shameless moonlit trysts in the backseat of Toji’s car, when he was still rooming with Shiu and the urge to fuck you got the better of him. It was easier to have you in the ‘privacy’ of his car than to risk having Shiu hear your pretty whimpers of pleasure Toji treasured so much, he reasoned. He was as territorial as they come - still is - so you grew well acquainted with the cool leather seats of the cramped Camaro.

One occurrence stands out, though. At the time you hadn’t seen him in days, away on a job of your own, and when you reunited you were both beyond pent-up. For the first time you were the one begging him for a quick fuck, just something to dull the edge of the sharp want twisting your insides before Shiu was out of Toji’s hair so he could make up for lost time properly.

Toji was quick to agree, driving you in a secluded parking lot. Before he could even turn the engine down, you were lunging towards him, one hand supporting you on the centre console and the other twisting in the fabric of his shirt. You were already a wanton mess, kissing the corner of his scarred lips in a silent plea for more and he was too happy to be desired to deny you, opening his mouth to sloth his tongue against yours. It was messy and sloppy, a cacophony of broken whimpers and the unmistakable rustling of clothes being shed.

He swiftly pulled you on his lap, ridding you of your blouse and kissing his way down to your collarbones. He was a man starved, sucking shamelessly at the sensitive skin above your breasts then trailing wet kisses up the exposed column of your throat, relishing in your little mewls and the fevered drag of your clothed cunt on his growing bulge.

“I missed you so much, pretty girl - fucking hell, I couldn’t stop thinking about you”, he groaned into your skin, deft fingers undoing your bra with practised ease and moving to pull at your pebbled nipples. Even in your lust fuelled high, you could find it in you to be flustered, his words going straight to your untouched clit and making you squirm harder against him.

It should’ve been ridiculous to feel so much from so little, pleasure overpowering the discomfort of the empty belt buckle digging in your knee, the shame of dripping in your underwear just from words and small kisses but you’d never wanted anyone more and you were past hiding it.

You ground your hips harder into him, cupping his face and pulling his mouth away from where he was biting down on your nipple to kiss him fervently, pleading into his mouth, “Toji, more – Fuck, I need you, I missed you too”. He smiled against your kiss, running his hands down your sides then holding your waist in a loose grip, forcing you into a slower, more deliberate rhythm against his leaking cock. “Yeah ? What do you need, baby ? Say it and I’ll give it to you”, he cooed against your lips but before you could answer he was already dragging into another searing open-mouthed kiss, his hold on your waist tightening into a bruising grip. You drank down everything he had to offer, spit running past the corner of your lips, and he was just as eager to taste you.

You wordlessly guided one of his hands down to the hem of your skirt and when his thumb grazed the damp lace of your underwear, you almost let out an airy whimper of his name. You were back to humping his cock straining against his jeans, no real rhythm to your movements, just the urge to feel more, give more then take everything he had to offer.

Toji took care of you though, like he always did : he dug his large fingers into your thigh enough to hurt, slowing you down and making you wince against his lips, then he was pulling your ruined panties to the side and running a finger along your slit. He hissed at the contact and you moaned. “Soaking wet already, my baby’s so eager for me”, he mused to himself, a heady pleasure starting to cloud his senses.

“A couple of days away got your pretty pussy leaking just from a few kisses, poor baby ; want me to make it better, fuck the neediness out of you ?”, he mumbled against your throat, hiding the alarming shade of red flushing his cheeks, relieved that he could conceal his arousal behind yours.

It only heightened your pleasure as you nodded fervently and chased the fingers he used to pinch and pull at your puffy lips, breathlessly asking for “Just one finger, please Toji”.

Your little pleas, so desperate and polite but unmistakably ravenous, made his head swim with pleasure so he stopped his teasing and traced a finger down to your hole, circling it. He swore he could hear the ecstasy in your airy voice when you sunk down on his finger, rocking your hips back and forth and fuck, you were tighter than usual, so much wetter too.

When you’ve been starved for days, every little touch is magnified so you rode his digits like you would his cock - eyes closed and walls spasming, and you were rewarded with another thick finger sinking in you and curling alongside the first. Toji spread them out inside of you and circled your clit in small, measured strokes of his thumb, eager to have more of your slick pouring down his palm, to see your pretty face twist in pleasure while you fucked yourself on his hand. He was obsessed with the idea of you using him to get off, it was exhilarating ; it sent a rush like no other in him, a tingling sensation blooming in his chest followed by a jolt of pleasure in his cock and a heady pride clouding his mind.

“Are you close ?”, he whispered in between sucks to one of your pert nipples. He knew you were, could easily tell from how much you were leaking and shaking around his fingers, but he liked hearing your whiny voice slur out the words anyway. “Y-Yeah, I’m so close Toji, please keep going”, you pleaded, high-pitched and needy. Suddenly, he stopped moving his fingers inside of you and bit down on your nipple, hard. It made you squeak and jolt in his lap, your ruined orgasm paining you more than the mean tug of his teeth around your flesh. “Ask for it" , Toji groaned. "Beg me nicely and I might just let you cum".

You were all too happy to tell just how much you needed him, frenzied pleas bubbling out past your kiss-swollen lips before you could even think, “Please, please I need you; I-I– haven’t even touched myself in days; can’t cum without you anymore”.

It would’ve been pathetic if it didn’t get Toji’s dick impossibly harder, plaguing his mind with images of his darling girl trying to fuck herself to sleep in a dingy hotel room miles away from home, only to relent and let all that pent-up lust fester. He was getting drunk off of your little mewls and your hushed confessions, spurring you on, “Yeah ? You waited to come back to me so I can get you off ? Is that why you begged me to fuck you in the car like a whore ?”.

Because you were easy, his crudeness did it for you and you turned into a babbling mess, confessing to everything ; how you counted the days down until you could see him again, how you’d tried and failed to get yourself off to thoughts of his hands and mouth on you, how badly you needed him. It sent him in a frenzy, the pace of his fingers slamming in your cunt and against that tender spot inside you becoming truly brutal. Toji thought he might cum untouched just from the unmistakable clenching of your cunt around his fingers trying to suck him in and the high keen of his name escaping your rosy lips.

He covered up his own pleasured groans against your tits, mumbling shameless praise that heightened the ebb and flow of your orgasm, telling you just “What a fucking good girl you are, making a mess on me; you’re so beautiful when you cum, I need you to soak my cock like you did my fingers”.

He didn’t waste time reclining his seat and pushing it as far as possible from the steering wheel, taking his already leaking cock out of his trousers and pumping it a few times.

You were out of it, barely lucid after your first orgasm but you were already eyeing his cock with the voracious glint in your eyes that Toji’s became well acquainted with so he had no qualms about pushing you down into his cock even as you hissed and whined. He was courteous enough to let you experimentally roll your hips and get used to the burning stretch, but when you relaxed around him, he grabbed your ass and started guiding you up and down his length at a dizzying pace.

You were a wanton mess all over again, quickly recovering from the remnants of your first orgasm and already chasing the next and Toji just had to wonder how he even had it in him to let you go in the first place.

Every time you left for one of your business trips, he found himself yearning for you more. He craved you all the time and not just for the sex, these days he’s grown content to just do anything or nothing at all with you - running errands, watching movies, playing house at his tiny apartment when Shiu finally fucked off and he realised it only really felt like a home when you were there anyway, so maybe he was getting all sappy or maybe he --

“I love you”, he blurted out without thinking, balls deep inside you and face buried in your tits.

It was barely above a whisper but it was there, soft and weightless, and the air around you shifted under the pressure of things unsaid finally snapping.

You froze above him, pretty doe eyes looking down at him in awe and…relief ? He couldn’t be sure, not when the pale light of tired lampposts barely pierced through the darkness of the small car.

He almost wanted to backpedal, tell you that he didn’t mean it or laugh it off as crazed sex talk but then you were bending down to kiss him and his brain short-circuited.

You were painfully sweet, swollen lips brushing the scar bisecting his mouth and pressing featherlight kisses against his cheeks and jaw. “I love you too”, you whispered in a honeyed voice. It made him swallow around the lump in his throat, engorged cock twitching uncontrollably against your snug walls, and he thought that he could've died a happy man then and there.

He marvelled at how easy it was for you to make him spiral, your hushed confession was like a saccharine high that cut through a lifetime of bitterness, and he had to hear it again, begged you - “Say it again, say it”.

“I love you so much, honey” this time was even better than the first, deliberate and slow, your smile apparent in your voice. He laughed a little with you, breathless and so happy his chuckle threatened to break into a stifled sob. “Honey”, he parroted and you nodded, “Don’t like it ?”.

“I love it, wanna hear more”, he admitted in hushed whisper and you were eager to please him, lifting off your hips and slamming them back down against his with a drawled out moan of the pet name. Then you were the one fucking him, a slow rhythm of your ass slapping his thighs, the lull in between the sound of skin against skin filled with your mewled “I love you”’s.

“Don’t think I can let you go after this”, he mumbled into your chest, painfully honest, arms loosely draped around your waist just to slow you down. You laughed breathlessly against him, reaching a hand to brush inky black hair out of his eyes, “I don’t plan on going anywhere, Toji”.

You rolled your hips harder against him and squeezed around his length, “I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me”.

That’s all the reassurance he needed before he picked up speed again, thrusting his hips up so he could fuck into you and draw more of those happy little sounds he loved so much. He looked at you through half-lidded eyes, drinking in how well you took him and how beautiful you looked, then everything he’s held back spilt out, a diluvian stream of consciousness - confessions of you how long he’s loved you, how he couldn’t bear to be separated from you, how hard he’s tried to get clean just for you.

It had you sobbing against him, his new-found candour and the brutal drag of his veiny cock in your sensitive cunt igniting a white-hot pleasure deep in your belly.

What got you though is his the strain in his voice when he promised to become even better just for you, nonsensical babbles about domestic bliss - “I’ll be so good to you sweetheart, I’ll give my pretty girl anything she needs - fuck, I’ll get you a nice ring and a white picket fence house and – a-aah shit, you’re sucking me in – anything at all, just say the word and it’s yours”.

The suburban dream he painted had you clawing at his shoulders as your orgasm threatened to rush through you. “Just want you, Toji” you slurred out, tender and sincere and it spurred him into fucking you in a mind-numbing high, pumping you full of his cum and kissing you through it and promising, “I’m already yours, sweetheart”.

His orgasm felt never-ending, rope after rope of sticky cum pouring into your fluttering cunt. He smoothed one large hand over your lower stomach, musing absentmindedly, “You’re just so good, letting me fuck you full of cum. You just keep sucking me in like you want it to take, greedy little thing”.

With your sex-high wearing off, you hid your face in his neck, chiding, “Stop saying that”.

“What ? That you like being bred ?”, his thundering laugh cut through the thick silence of the car and you hit his chest to shut him up.

A pleasant quietness settled over you once again and Toji spoke up after a while, “Hey, but what if it works ?”.

“It won’t, I’m on birth control you imbecile”.

“Lose the attitude, I know you are but I’m just sayin' - hypothetically, if you were to get pregnant then…”, he trailed off, bringing one large to brush your hair out of your face, levelling a hesitant gaze at your flushed face. You let a heavy silence hang between you.

“Then ?”

“Then I’ll kick Shiu out to make room for the new brat”.

“Good thing I won’t get pregnant then”.

And surely enough, you did get pregnant (to your mild horror and Toji’s delight) and the only explanation Toji came up with after all those years was that the little Camaro cursed you into being fertile when you shouldn’t have been.

Your intimate reverie and the quiet of the late afternoon are disturbed as a chipper pair of boys runs to you on the yard, tufts of pink and black hair obstructing your view when the pair jumps in your arms. Megumi and his friend-turned-brother Yuuji are eager to tell you about their day but their attention is quickly diverted from you as they catch a glimpse of the old red car in the garage.

Before they can make a run for it and inspect it, Toji grabs them both by the collar and lifts them up, scowling menacingly at Megumi, “Now listen boy, if there’s one rule you need to follow under my roof, it’s to never get near that car - it’s cursed, you hear me?”. Megumi looks quizzically at his father, then at you, and finally nods before scurrying inside the house with his friend. You laugh at Toji, hugging him again, “So intimidating, don’t want the kid to know where he came from ?”. “Shut up, I’m just not ready to be a grandpa”, he retorts, flicking your forehead then kissing it better.

You think the old Camaro still has some good days ahead of it though, because like he’s done countless times before, Toji ends up covering the car again and vowing to get rid of it some other time.

Thanks for reading ! Any comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #toji x reader #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro #toji x you #toji fushiguro x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x yn #toji zenin #dilf toji #toji smut #megumi fushiguro #jjk fluff #toji fluff

[mylovelies-docx]

Sorry, I Love You - Part 1

Here we go! I have it planned that I will be updating this story on Fridays, so yay! I have 10 parts set out as of now, but we'll see where this story takes me.

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: Friends with Benefits, ANGST, unrequited feelings, lots more to come!

Word Count: 1,200

Prologue

You were right to doubt Natasha's words.

Waking up next to Bucky just gets harder and harder as time goes on. Listening to his soft murmurs and heavy sighs, the feel of his bare skin against yours. Every time you find yourself between his sheets, you resent him a little. But it’s not his fault, it’s yours. Every time.

Because you know that if you ever take that one crucial step towards him, you’ll lose him. Lose this closeness, this connection.

So you don’t take that step. You haven’t opened up and told him how you feel for months now. And it drives a knife into your heart with every second that passes where you don’t confess.

Every time you sneak away from parties to some hidden room for a quick fuck, or when he’s pounding into you under a street light on some deserted road with your leg hiked over his motorcycle at 3 am, you can’t help but imagine that all this passion has to mean something to him. Like it means something to you.

So you test it.

You invite him on adventures between missions, visiting museums and parks and 24/7 diners that you know are perfect date spots. He always readily agrees to hang out and stays with you the whole time, his arm slung over your shoulders while he laughs in your ear.

Spending time with Bucky like this leaves you effervescent. You always leave his arms smiling like a fool – because that’s what you are.

Because these movie tickets are just an excuse, really. 

Bucky’s been so busy these last couple of weeks that you’ve hardly seen him, let alone spent any "quality" time with him. You’re currently on your longest dry spell you’ve ever had with him, and the lack of contact leaves you delusional.

Delusional enough to do something stupid. 

Delusional enough to tell Bucky how you feel.

The air is cold as you and Bucky stroll from the movie theater, your heart buzzing in your chest as you contemplate how best to approach the topic. Bucky gives you the perfect opportunity with his next sentence.

“Damn, dollface, forgot how much fun it was to hang out with you. Feels like it’s been ages.”

“We could always hang out more,” you respond coyly, taking his hand and curling yourself against his side. You don’t think you can look him in the eyes while you confess to him.

“Yeah, we should,” Bucky says, and you can’t hold back your next words.

“We could go on a real date sometime.”

You feel a nearly imperceptible jolt in Bucky’s muscles, and his voice is slightly bemused when he replies. “What?” 

There’s confusion behind the words, but you hope against hope that it’s because he’s thinking your suggestion through.

“Well, I mean, we’ve already kind of been going on dates and doing other things that couples do? It wouldn’t be so hard to just make it more concrete, you know?” Your words squeeze around the lump in your throat, your insides shivering in desperation.

Bucky stops in his tracks and pulls you off to the side of the street out of other people’s way. He turns you to face him, his palms resting on your shoulders, his blue eyes searching your face for any sign of the joke you must surely be playing. Because you’ve talked about this. He was very clear. And you had agreed all those months ago – agreed that it was just sex. Agreed that neither of you had any romantic feelings for the other.

“Uh, doll? What are you…?”

Your cheeks burn and your fingers tingle. Your heart can’t handle being scrutinized so intensely at this moment. You avert your eyes to where you’re scuffing your shoe back and forth, back and forth, across the pavement.

“I’m saying… I–I like you, Bucky.” Heart in youth throat, you finally look back into his eyes when you say his name. 

But his expression as he looks back at you isn’t the one you were wanting to see. Bucky looks panicked. Like you’ve just told him that you’re holding a bomb that’s set to detonate in seconds. 

“Jesus,” Bucky says your name in exasperation as he removes his hands from your arms and runs them through his long hair, “why would you–”

Fuck. 

You quickly back-pedal, trying to keep the panic out of your voice while scrambling to pick your bleeding heart off the dirty sidewalk.

“No, no, no. Wait, Bucky. Listen. I know we’ve talked about this before and you said you weren’t looking for anything serious.” Your hands are flying all over the place as you try and explain away your feelings. “But we’ve been hanging out a lot and maybe I just got the wrong idea–”

“Yeah. You did,” Bucky interjects, sending a dagger into the mess of an organ clutched desperately between your hands. “It’s flattering and all, but… you know I’m not interested in you like that.”

You’re successfully holding back tears against the burning in your eyes, but the need to release all the pain you’re feeling is overwhelming. You wrap one arm protectively around yourself and grab on to your other bicep, squeezing hard to feel the physical hurt instead of the emotional.

“No, yeah, you’re right. I’m – I just thought I should be honest? But, seriously, don’t even worry about it.” You hold your hands up in a placating gesture and give as convincing a smile as possible. “This won’t change anything, I promise. And besides, I’ll get over it soon enough!”

Bucky gives you a skeptical look, but nods his head slowly. “So… we’re taking sex off the table, obviously.”

You give a breathy laugh and try to roll your eyes playfully. “Probably not the best idea at the moment,” you respond.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs, “probably not.”

You both stand in awkward silence, not really looking at each other. You can only stand it for so long until you casually throw a thumb over your shoulder and suggest heading back home.

It’s a long, long ride back on his motorcycle. But at least the wind lashing your face gives you an excuse for the tears that fall.

***

You make it to your floor without seeing another person, but your luck runs out when you find Nat and Wanda watching a movie together in your bed. The sight of your two best friends smiling warmly at your entrance shatters the last of your strength.

You can’t stop the hiccuping sob that leaves your throat – it refuses to be held back any longer. Both women’s eyes widen and they immediately start to sit up, but you’ve collapsed on top of the covers between them before they could move. You can feel Wanda’s fingers in your hair and Nat’s hand rubbing soothing circles between your shoulders.

Your sobs eventually turn into sniffles, and that’s when Wanda speaks.

“What happened?” she asks softly.

You take a shuddering breath in before saying, “I was stupid.”

“What–” Wanda begins, but Natasha immediately knows what you mean.

“Fuck.” She sighs heavily and leans down to place a kiss on the crown of your head.

Part 2

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #captain america #Sorry

[masterjedilenawrites]

Take Me Out

Bad Batch x Reader Exchange 2024

Crosshair x fem!reader | 4.7k words

Content: drinking, light angst, introspection, fluff, light humor, crushes, relationships, friendship, mentions of war and death, weapons (practice setting)

Prompts: "What am I even looking for?" - "I don't know" & "Sometimes I think some work on your communication skills wouldn't be such a bad idea."

My gift is for the event host - @ghostofskywalker! I was so excited to draw your name and I really hope you enjoy the fic. You put so much work and care into hosting these events for the fandom, it really is appreciated 🤗

I've actually had this story concept in mind for quite a while. I love that pretty much all of your prompts/wish-list items were able to fit in! We've got some platonic Hunter, romantic Crosshair, a little angst, a bit of fluff... Perfect!

Oh, and to keep things spoiler free (on my blog and for the event), this takes place before Order 66 and Omega.

Please go check out the @cloneficgiftexchange blog for all the other contributions to this great event! Fics are being posted all throughout today (4/13/24). Spread the love for fandom writers/creators by reblogging!

Vandor-3. Clone training facility: recreation sector. Winter.

You sat slumped over the bar, a drink cradled in your arms. You took lazy sips at the liquid, long past its effervescence, in between chewing on the straw. You could smell the evidence of your waning hygiene, being curled in on yourself like this. It disgusted you but not enough to do anything beyond self loathing. To say you were miserable was an understatement.

"Morning, Captain. A bit early for a drink, isn't it?"

The husky voice of the bar's newcomer was unmistakeable in who it belonged to. There were clones abound on this small moon, hundreds of identical-sounding men. But every once in a while you had the pleasure of hearing the one that was different.

You sluggishly swiveled your head and gave Sergeant Hunter a mock salute. He leaned against the bar beside you, seemingly torn between being amused and concerned by what he was seeing.

"Back so soon?" you asked, ignoring his own question. Though your speech wasn't slurred, your voice still betrayed some of the numbness you were working to surround yourself in. Which helped your friend make up his mind on how to feel.

"Easy mission," Hunter shrugged off the topic. "You okay? Did something happen?"

"No," you sighed and forced yourself to sit upright. Best to appear more in control and not give him reason to drag you to the med bay. "That's the problem. Nothing's happened."

Hunter frowned and slid onto the barstool next to you. You caught a whiff of soap as he did, a harsh contrast to your own odor that made you even more upset.

"I don't understand."

Your hands cupped around your glass, condensation pooling around your fingers, and you stared at the melting ice wishing to be as frozen and unfeeling.

"I don't understand, either," you whispered. "Why I'm still so... alone."

"Ah." Hunter placed a sympathetic hand on your shoulder. "That's right, you had that date you were going on. Another dud, then?"

You nodded, still refusing to look away from the ice cubes.

He hummed in thought. Your poor friend. How many times had he now had to come up with some sort of reassuring comment after another one of your failed attempts to find love? At least you were grateful you had such a friend, though. Where others would have made you feel guilty for admitting to loneliness, would have insisted they were company enough and all you had to do was ask for it, it's as simple as that, how dare you feel lonely when you aren't actually alone... Hunter was the one who always saw through to what you really meant. You were not what the other wanted, but you were both wanting, craving that kind of deep, romantic connection that seemed to allude you both. For Hunter, it was obviously his schedule that got in his way. For you... well, that was the mystery.

"You have to keep looking," was the sentiment Hunter settled on this time. He rubbed at your shoulder a bit, as if trying to smooth out your misery.

You huffed. His attempts to comfort were sweet, but not enough. You couldn't help but protest. "But with everyone I meet, I just find out what I don't want. What am I even looking for?"

"I don't know," Hunter shook his head sadly. "I don't know if anyone knows until they find it."

You groaned and slumped back forward, facepalming the bar top and wishing you could sink right into it. Sink down, down, down until you disappeared completely.

"Sorry, Cap," Hunter's now muffled voice attempted to chuckle, lighten the mood. "If I could track down your soul mate, I would. You know I would."

That comment was sweet enough. You forced yourself to stop sinking, lift yourself up again, and face your friend properly.

"I know. And I appreciate that. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be such a bummer today. It's just... it's been getting harder, is all."

He nodded and you nodded back and nothing further needed to be understood on the matter.

"Were you needing something from me?" you changed the subject. "Or did you come to day drink as well?"

"Ha, ha." Hunter started to get up. "Yeah no, I just wanted to let you know we were back for a few rotations, see if you'd have some time to finally come out and meet the boys."

You lifted up your glass and shook it a bit. "You're too late, I'm afraid. If I'd known you'd be back so soon, I wouldn't have started on this journey of self destruction."

Hunter titled his head at you, some of that trademark concern still showing. "This isn't going to be an all week thing, is it?"

You shrugged. Truthfully, you had no idea what to do with yourself. Making decisions even a day in advance seemed like too big of a commitment in your fragile state.

"I'd rather not meet any more new people right now, if it's all the same to you."

"I wouldn't consider them new. You've heard enough stories about each other by now. It's starting to get weird that you're not meeting, quite frankly."

You wanted to laugh, but the thought of introductions, stiff pleasantries, awkward small talk... It reminded you of every first date that never turned into a second, every dating app chat thread that went nowhere, every high hope you watched turn into disappointment. Even with a group like Hunter's brothers, the Bad Batch, with a reputation of being unconventional, who you'd only be making friends with just like you had with Hunter and every other clone on this moon... it was still too much for you to stomach.

"Sorry, maybe next time."

Hunter frowned, but he didn't overstep. "Suit yourself. Door's still open though. You know where to find us."

He made to walk out but paused to turn back to you for a moment.

"And hey, don't lose hope. We'll find our people soon enough. In the meantime, take care of yourself, alright?"

You waited until the bar doors closed behind him to let your tears fall.

* * *

Vandor-3. Woodland outskirts. Spring.

You were here. Finally.

You weren't able to pinpoint exactly where the turning point occurred, between crying yourself to sleep every night and being able to wake up with a smile on your face. A small one, of course, but a smile nonetheless. You weren't even sure it was something that had happened overnight. Slowly, eventually, the frost over your heart melted, the shadows in your thoughts grew thinner and lighter. Without even realizing you were drawing back the curtains and dusting off the shelves and each day being a little more open than you were the day before.

Your loneliness still existed. It came and went in waves, so while still devastating at times, you were at least afforded with periods of relief. Periods where you could smile again, find fulfillment in your work, and even dare to allow yourself to dream again. And not to mention taking more regular showers. It was always the little things that made the biggest difference, wasn't it?

And now here you were, standing in the early morning sun out in one of the training fields, the Havoc Marauder silhouetted against the sunrise as you shook hands with its crew in a meeting long overdue.

Hunter's stories had done the boys justice. Wrecker was just as larger than life as you'd pictured, aptly choosing to push past your outstretched hand and go in for a bone-crushing hug instead. Tech, who you'd come to know as the brains of the batch, only spared a second to be properly introduced before returning to fidget with some gadget. Echo was all politeness and disciplined respect, with his scomp-salute and ma'ams. And Crosshair... well, he was still on the ship asleep, which you supposed fit with the few facts you knew about him, too.

Hunter beamed beside them, clearly happy you had finally made the effort to meet his squad. His family, really. As a Captain overseeing drill training for the GAR, you knew better than anyone the close bonds these clones formed even before they stepped foot on a battlefield. This meant a lot to him, you being here. You felt awful for postponing so many times.

Once introductions were out of the way, and some pleasant conversation had passed, you eventually ventured out to the part of the training field that actually housed elements for training - your excuse for coming out here to meet everyone. A munitions crate full of shiny new blasters was carried between you and Wrecker while Hunter ran ahead to set up some targets. Tech and Echo went back to the ship to work on repairs.

"Aaaaugh. Only blasters?" Wrecker lamented upon opening the crate.

"Sorry, more budget cuts. This was all I could scrounge up for you guys."

Hunter was much more excited by the new weapons, though Wrecker still picked one up to try out. You held one as well but only used it to demonstrate different techniques. Just because you were good at training didn't mean you were the best at actually fighting.

The three of you picked off the various bottles, pots, and pans that Hunter had set up amongst the tree branches at the edge of the field for a short while. And on more than one occasion you found yourself pausing to breathe in the air and remind yourself that life was good. Maybe not how you wanted it, but it was still good and you'd need to continue to work on appreciating what you had.

After about an hour, there were only three bottles and a pan left, all proving tricky targets due to distance and angle. Hunter had even tried slinging a few knives to no avail.

"Okay I'm calling it," Wrecker announced with a huff. "One more missed shot and I'm blowing them up."

"I'll take that bet."

A new voice, one you'd never heard before, carried across the field. It was delicate and drawling and confident. Hunter chuckled and Wrecker rolled his eyes. And you... you had no idea that everything was about to change.

It was like he was moving in slow motion. Your surroundings blurred as the lanky figure caught the corner of your eye, your heart rate slowing as you turned and took him in. One confident step planted firmly in front of the other as he inched across the field. A sniper rifle perched on his shoulder. A toothpick between pursed lips. An eye surrounded by a reticle and narrowed in determination. He didn't even spare you a glance, and thank the gods, because if he had, you were sure your heart would've stopped beating altogether.

He squared off as soon as he reached the marks, bringing his rile forward to aim in a swift and careful motion. His head rested against the shaft, his tattooed eye squinted through the scope. You imagined him taking this stance a thousand times in his short life. It looked as natural a position as curling up on a couch might look for you.

You couldn't look away, not wanting to miss a single second of whatever this mesmerizing man was about to do. He was still for a moment, impressively so. You realized you were holding your breath as you watched, not wanting even your exhale to interfere with his process.

And then he fired. Once, twice, threefourfive times. Bang, bang, bang. Each in a different direction but no less precise than the one before. The first ricocheted off the pan and hit the green bottle, just as the second hit the red bottle. The three-shot volley was aimed at the branch the bottles sat on, causing it to crack and dangle even closer to the ground. And just when you thought the show couldn't be more over the top, the sniper swiveled his rifle toward the sky at a passing bird, clipped its wing with a shot, and then whipped out a pistol from his hip and fired at the remaining blue bottle just before the branch snapped and fell to the ground.

A few seconds later, the bird tumbled on top of the pile of shattered glass and splintered wood.

"Aaaand training is now over," said Hunter with a nod of his head. He raised his voice as he called out to his brother. "You'd better clean that shit up!"

The sniper flipped him the bird before sauntering off to clean up.

"Uh, you alright?"

Hunter paused in his own packing of gear to give you a concerned look. You were still staring after the newcomer, undoubtedly the lone Batcher you had yet to meet. Crosshair. Your brain had short-circuited with what you had witnessed him do, yes. But it was more than that. There was something about him. Something intriguing and attractive. Different than anyone you had ever known, and yet, somehow feeling so real and comfortable at the same time.

After a few waves of your friend's hand in your face, you snapped back.

"That," you breathed.

Hunter cocked a confused eyebrow.

"That is what I'm looking for."

* * *

Vandor-3. Clone training facility: recreation sector. Summer.

You were insanely busy. Separatist activity was ramping up in almost every corner of the galaxy and the GAR was responding to each new threat with full force. Rotations of new clone units were frequently arriving at the facility, one after another. You'd cycle them through a few trainings to get them certified on whatever was needed and then ship them right back out. And in between were all the additional tasks that needed to be taken care of. Piles of paperwork and coordinating schedules and ship inspections and updated security debriefings.

And yet through it all, you still had time to entertain the one thought that buzzed in the background of your mind: Crosshair. Every meeting, every meal, every training sim, first thing in the morning and last thing at night. He was there. Crosshair, Crosshair, Crosshair. On your mind, in your heart, driving you absolutely mad.

In the beginning you'd pretended it wasn't about him, specifically. You were simply happy to know what you wanted now, that you had a type and it existed. That was all. Hunter had turned up his nose, completely bewildered as to why that would be your type. You hadn't been able to give him much at the time; it would take you many rotations more to start describing the details of your newly discovered attraction.

But over time, it became harder to push aside the nagging thought that you hadn't found what you were looking for, but rather who. Specifically. Exactly. Why try to find someone like him when you already liked... him?

Oh there were plenty of ways you could answer that question, all of them self-deprecating and none of them productive. You could count on one hand now the number of times you had been in the same room as him, let alone interacted with him. The Batch may be frequenting the place more often as the war picked up, but not nearly as often as you needed to gauge whether someone like Crosshair would, could, or honestly even should be as interested in you as you were in him.

Today they were back on the grounds so Hunter could fill out some paperwork, and your heart had not stopped racing all morning. It was practically threatening to punch right out of your chest and run away. You weren't sure why, considering you'd probably only end up seeing Hunter this time. The rest of the Batch usually didn't venture into the facility unless they were staying overnight. But it seemed even knowing Crosshair was on the same planet as you got you worked up these days.

You carried Hunter's stack of paperwork with you now, intending to drop it off to him in between some meetings you had. As you hustled down the halls, you rehearsed a few ways you could subtly ask him how Crosshair was doing.

But as it turned out, you would have the opportunity to ask him yourself. If you could get over your frazzled shock at finding him in the rec room instead of Hunter.

The room was conveniently empty, making the silence between you that much more potent. Crosshair was standing awkwardly to the side, just behind one of the battered sofas, as if he had already been confused about what he should be doing before you pushed through the door. He stared at you and you stared at him and the moment only lasted for a few seconds but it felt like an eternity.

"Oh, um. Hi. Crosshair." You averted your gaze, despite having prayed the past several nights that you could see his face again soon. "I was... expecting Hunter."

That didn't sound right. You hoped he didn't take that to mean that you'd prefer if Hunter was here now. Obviously you didn't.

"He stepped out," Crosshair responded in that cool, even tone of his. Your eyes couldn't help but snap back to his as he talked. You wanted him to say more but he never did.

"Oh, okay. I just had some paperwork to give him."

Crosshair only hummed at first. You shuffled your feet a bit, debating whether you should make an attempt at small talk, try to coax more out of him, maybe even hint that you were interested in him. The thought terrified you, but not as much as the thought of being alone. You couldn't complain about that if you continued to let these opportunities pass by without at least trying to make a connection.

You shifted your weight again, intending to keep your feet planted so you wouldn't make a run for it, and Crosshair uttered your name hurriedly.

"Wait," he said. He'd thought you were leaving. You widened your eyes at him, waiting to hear what he'd wanted to tell you first. He seemed to hesitate before finally saying, "I was wondering if you knew what soup they were serving today?"

"Oh. Uh, potato, I think."

"How boring."

You smirked. "I know, right? They could at least serve it with some hot sauce."

Crosshair hummed.

The silence settled back in, though now you felt better about things. You'd practically had a conversation. Learned a little more about each other. It was a good start. 

Your commlink suddenly beeped at your side and you blanched, remembering the meeting you were supposed to be heading to.

"I uh, I've got to go. It was nice talking to you."

It pained you to cut off your moment with him so quickly, but alas you were left with no choice. You shuffled back out into the corridor, though you only made it a few steps before realizing you still had Hunter's paperwork and could just leave it with Crosshair.

The rec room had an old school door that swung in and out on hinges. It was slightly ajar from when you passed through, and already in the few seconds since something was happening on the other side of it. You could hear more voices.

"...the kriff was that?" First, the deep tones of Hunter, equal parts annoyed and weary.

"That wasn't the plan." Then, the resolute voice of Echo, backing him up.

"What?" Crosshair bit back at them.

"You were supposed to ask her out," Hunter clarified.

"No, that was not the plan," Crosshair countered. "I needed to lay some groundwork first."

"You call that groundwork? You were talking about soup."

"And she agreed. No one ever agrees with me on the soup around here."

"What a special connection," Echo said.

Hunter sighed so hard you swore you could feel the breeze through the doorway. "You know, sometimes I think some work on your communication skills wouldn't be such a bad idea."

"What?"

"Never mind. Do what you like. Keep pushing away anyone who tries to love you and see where that gets you. Just know that it's exhausting, watching the two of you dance around each other like this."

"And kind of pathetic," added Echo.

You were against the wall by the door, holding in your breath for so long you were about to pass out. Or maybe it was the euphoria of knowing Crosshair was interested that made your head sway. Regardless, you had mere moments to make a move or let the opportunity pass. You dug into your pocket, fished out a pen, and scribbled a note on the top page of paperwork. Was it professional? Absolutely not. But the GAR would get over it. You left the papers by the door, making sure your note was turned to face it.

There's better soups on Coruscant. Let's go out sometime.

* * *

Vandor-3. Woodland outskirts. Autumn.

You were alone, standing in the middle of the training field, the early setting sun behind you casting a dim shadow across the remains of your latest training exercise. A chill was just starting to set in, causing you to tug at your jacket and pull it around you a bit tighter. You liked these moments, rare as they were recently. A quiet time to yourself. Not even to think, but simply to be. Present and comfortable. And you.

The wind picked up and sang through the taller blades of grass as a ship approached for landing. Your moment was over, but a new happiness settled in its place. Minutes later, the Havoc Marauder was opening its hatch and spitting out its soldiers.

"Captain," Hunter gave you a two-finger salute as he passed by.

"Sergeant," you returned with a smile.

Echo was close behind, giving you a respectful nod. Wrecker hauled a munitions crate in one hand and hit you up for a high five with the other. Tech was oblivious as he hunched over a data pad.

They filed by, one after the other, headed straight for the barracks, and what you hoped were the showers. They all knew not to linger, that you'd catch up with them later. This was your time with Crosshair.

The sniper was leaning up against the hatch opening, arms folded across a plastoid chest and a toothpick lazily perched between slightly curled lips. He took you in for a moment and you could feel yourself glowing in response to his soft gaze.

"Showing those clankers who's boss, I see," he said as he made his way down the gangway. He nodded his head toward the mess of scrap metal behind you.

You gave a half shrug. "My reaction time is getting better, but I still can't get the angles right with those pucks."

Crosshair inched up to you, gently resting his hands on either side of your waist. "Have you been doing the breathing exercises like I showed you?"

You nodded. Your hands instinctually came up to his run along his arms until they found the crook of his elbows, the only place not barring your touch by armor.

"And using the laser sight?"

You nodded a little slower and Crosshair tsked.

"I want to be good without it. Like you." You added a little extra honey to your words so he wouldn't reprimand you too much. It had been an adjustment for the two of you at first, he stepping into a training role and you stepping back to receive instruction for once. Thankfully the frustrations seemed to diminish the more your relationship progressed.

"You have to be patient," he said, giving your waist a slight squeeze to accentuate his point. "You aren't like the regs you train. You're building your skills, taking care of yourself."

You hummed, more in thought than agreement. "Will I ever have to use these skills someday, do you think? Is it really getting that bad out there?"

You tried not to think about how many soldiers you had trained only to be sent to a battlefield to die. How many of the shinies you were drilling right now would likely be killed soon. How many more would be brought in to take their place. You'd thought you'd known what you were getting yourself into with this job. But the relentless cycle of it all was getting to you more and more, especially as the Republic continued to be challenged in larger scales and higher stakes. It never seemed to end.

"It's hard to say," Crosshair responded. "We have to prepare for the worst."

You hated that answer, but you wouldn't let him see it. Not yet. Your fears and your displeasures, anger and sorrow, were things yet to be fully explored in this new relationship. All in due time. So you simply smiled, plucked the toothpick out of his mouth and tossed it aside. 

"And hope for the best, right?"

He smiled back, or at least moved his mouth in the direction of a smile, as much as you could usually get from the reserved man. "Yes, of course."

He leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours. You both closed your eyes and breathed each other in. There was warmth in his embrace. A promise in the steady hands he held you with. Vulnerability in the skin that gently touched yours. To have someone this close, someone who was still more stranger than friend, though no less beloved, was what you had always wanted. And for once, what you wanted was just as lovely and fulfilling as you'd hoped. No catch. No deals. No unintended consequences. Just you and him and happiness.

All too soon he pulled away. His hand sought yours as he turned in the direction of the barracks. The longer you stayed behind, the worse the teasing from the others would be. They were only respectful of your relationship to a point, and after that it was fair game for a laugh. So you willingly followed.

"Crosshair?"

"Hm?"

"I was thinking about Hunter...."

The sniper glanced at you suspiciously.

"Well, you know he and I have been friends for a while. And he's confided a few things in me before. About what he wants. Or thinks he wants. He's changed his mind a few times on the specifics. But all in the same gist."

"Where are you going with this?"

"I don't know, I just feel like I owe him for helping me get through a tough time. And if it weren't for him, I wouldn't have ever met you. So--"

Crosshair cut you off with a groan. "If you're trying to get me to play matchmaker..."

"It would get some of the attention off of us," you quickly offered. "If Hunter had someone he was bringing around, too. Or even just interested in."

Crosshair frowned in thought. "There was a bartender on Scarif he kept checking out..."

You grinned and squeezed his hand affectionately. "See? Just keep an eye out and nudge him a bit. Who knows what could happen."

You could tell he was trying not to roll his eyes for your sake. Instead he squeezed your hand in return. "Or you could come with us and nudge him yourself?"

Your walking slowed, right as you were about to cross the facility boundary line. You would have to let go of his hand once you crossed it, keep a professional distance, share your company with others. And once the Batch's business here concluded, then you would have to let him go and watch him disappear into the sky with all the prayers you could possibly send with him. And then you would be on your own. Waiting, waiting, always waiting. And maybe he would return, and maybe he wouldn't.

And heaven forbid you would ever end up alone again.

"Or you can stay," he said. The quietness of his voice betrayed what he really meant, what he really wanted. 

And you knew what you wanted, too. Without you realizing, it was getting easier and easier for you to define your desires. And not only that, but to pursue them, too. To know your happiness was worth the risk of disappointment. It was clear to you now that you were not only worthy, but also capable. The man standing before you, holding your hand, gazing at you like nothing else mattered, was proof enough.

And so you said, "Take me with you."

Every Character Tag: @dangerousstrawberrypie, @justanothersadperson93, @arctrooper69, @sleepycreativewriter, @techie-bear, @theroguesully, @cw80831, @cdblake1565

Bad Batch Tag: @kaijusplotch, @rebel-finn, @lucyysthings, @marvel-starwars-nerd, @nekotaetae, @severalseashellsbytheseashore, @lackofhonor, @flowered-bicycles, @foodmoneyandcats, @nahoney22, @dangraccoon, @lulalovez, @aconstructofamind, @skellymom, @the-mom-friend-dot-com

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#star wars #the clone wars #the bad batch #crosshair #crosshair x reader #fluff #angst #romance #cloneficgiftexchange #hunter #wrecker #echo #tech

[starsandhughes]

Penalty Box Series— Trevor Zegras Edition (Five)

23-24 Season Masterlist

previous: four

next: six

i skipped the cbj game since z got... benched... so sissy shall play nice

to those of you who have been waiting for leo and sissy content, may i present: leo and sissy content!

OCTOBER 26, 2026

yourusername

liked by trevorzegras, leocarlssoon, and 16,552 others

yourusername welcome back to my postgame penalty box update show: THE ANAHEIM DUCKS ENDED THE BRUINS'S SIX GAME WIN STREAK EDITION! (and they brought the bruins into OT for the first time this season!)

tonight, cammy played his 900th game, gudas scored his first goal as a duck, my son and my dad scored goals in the final two minutes of regulation to tie the game, mac-t scored his first game winning goal of the season in overtime (i love you! i'm so proud! enjoy your forehead kisses!), and my lovely z-baby started a scrum over our son, leo, getting a hard hit which resulted in him drawing a roughing penalty by lindholm! and z led all forwards in time on ice with 22:49 minutes! all without getting a penalty!

oh, AND LEO GOT HIS FIRST ASSIST TONIGHT ON MASON'S GOAL! jackson also assisted on the goal, which means that all three players involved are under 23! we are, after all, the youngest team in the league, and it's starting to pay off! they're 2 for 2 on the roadie, so let's keep this up!

p.s. yes, that is my baby daddy biting our son in the fifth pic. yes, it's one of his ways of showing love. yes, he got it from me

p.s.s. LEO, MY CURRENT FAVORITE SON, I AM UNBELIEVABLY PROUD OF YOU! you had your first multi-point night tonight, and you are absolutely thriving in the big leagues🧡 i love you!

p.s.s.s. trevor, i love you, always! seeing you happy and supportive of your teammates on the ice makes me so warm inside, and i’m so lucky to be yours🧡

tagged trevorzegras, masonmctavish23, and leocarlssoon

view all 259 comments

trevorzegras i’m the luckiest guy in the world because you, sweet girl, are my biggest supporter, and my team's🧡 i love you, forever!

yourusername orange, black, white, plum, and turquoise, mother fucker! these colors don't run, bitch! anaheim! anaheim! anaheim!

trevorzegras and you also do things like that! i'm so lucky!

jamie.drysdale @/trevorzegras i can hear her saying that

trevorzegras @/jamie.drysdale that's because she's yelling it and you're only two minutes away

yourusername IN TREVOR WE TRUST🫡

trevorzegras oh look! more things that you do! i will never run out of luck!

jackhughes @/trevorzegras her crazy is somehow entertaining

trevorzegras @/jackhughes and endearing

jamie.drysdale @/trevorzegras @/jackhughes she's so effervescent

trevorzegras @/jamie.drysdale that's a band

colecaufield @/trevorzegras you're thinking of evanescence

trevorzegras @/colecaufield oh

jamie.drysdale @/trevorzegras it means bubbly and enthusiastic

yourusername @/trevorzegras @/jackhughes @.jamie.drysdale SAPS

user41 matthew tkachuk bites mouth guards, trevor zegras bites people <3 two kinds of rats

leocarlssoon thank you, mom! i love you, too! i also appreciated the forehead kisses and being your current favorite son🧡

lhughes_06 @/yourusername we've been over the fact that you can't announce your favorite child!

colemcward @/lhughes_06 you aren't the one being downgraded!

edwards.73 @/colemcward welcome to the club

mackie.samo @/lhughes_06 @/edwards.73 @.colemcward i’ve never even BEEN a favorite! i barely had a chance to be the newest child!

dylanduke25 @/lhughes_06 @/mackie.samo @.colemcward @/edwards.73 at least you have fathers! i’m a fatherless-secret child!

adamfantilli AT LEAST YOU GUYS ARE SONS

leocarlssoon @/trevorzegras @/jamie.drysdale @.masonmctavish23 what's happening? this wasn't in my y/n run down course

masonmctavish23 @/leocarlssoon this is out of my expertise

yourusername @/leocarlssoon you played great tonight! keep it up and you'll get plenty more forehead kisses! z and stromer get some every night!

masonmctavish23 @/yourusername wait, why does stromer get them every night? i thought we were friends??

jamie.drysdale @/masonmctavish23 that is a losing battle you're trying to fight, my guy

yourusername @/masonmctavish23 because i like him better than you

lhughes_06 @/yourusername AND YOU LIKE A LOT OF PEOPLE BETTER THAN ME! LIKE LEO!

yourusername @/lhughes_06 STOP BEING A BABY! AND TELL YOUR BROTHERS THAT, TOO! AND NON-BROTHERS!

trevorzegras @/leocarlssoon welcome to the family!

user27 z spraying that water bottle on himself is making me feel things

anaheimducks we love our biggest fan!!

yourusername omg i can't believe THE ducks admin replied to me!😭🫶

anaheimducks omg i can't believe THE future mrs. zegras-hughes replied to us!😭🫶

user5 SISSY SON SHENANIGANS HAS RISEN!

colecaufield i miss when you two used to bite me🥺

yourusername prepare to be attacked on november 12th, coley woley!

trevorzegras and again on the 22nd since y/n is abandoning me that day to see you and quinn!

yourusername and maybe the 30th!

colecaufield @/yourusername MAYBE?!

yourusername @/colecaufield i can only abandon my boy toy so much! he gets his feelings hurt!

trevorzegras @/colecaufield i'm tragically codependent

colecaufield fine! but i’m not breaking it to suzy!

yourusername you bitch

colecaufield OR jordan!

yourusername THAT'S MY HARRY! YOU BITCH!

trevorzegras i’ll break it to matty!

yourusername @/trevorzegras i will go out of spite instead of keeping it a maybe

trevorzegras i’ll keep my mouth shut!

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras you know how to do that?!

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes you bitch

user89 i need sissy to adopt me! not trevor, just sissy

user40 I'M LIVING FOR THE THE NEW DUCKIES

_quinnhughes do you feed him?

yourusername we take turns feeding each other! and sometimes, jamie baby does it!

jamie.drysdale translation: they just show up

_quinnhughes @/jamie.drysdale why did you give them a key?

jamie.drysdale @_quinnhughes y/n/n has keys to all of our places! you know that!

yourusername @_quinnhughes jamie completes my rainbow! jack and luke's key is red, alex's is yellow, yours is green, cole's is blue, the lake house is purple, mine and z's key is pink and says princess, and jamie's is orange!

_quinnhughes @/yourusername princess pink is my favorite color in the rainbow

yourusername @_quinnhughes omg! mine, too! this is why we're best friends!! that's crazy!!!

trevorzegras @/yourusername then who's house does the minnie mouse key open???

yourusername @/trevorzegras that's a secret i’ll never tell, xoxo

trevorzegras @/yourusername and the one that says "key i haven't lost yet"?

yourusername @/trevorzegras petey

_quinnhughes @_eliaspettersson why does sissy have a key to your place?

_eliaspettersson @_quinnhughes she asked

user94 new sissy lore unlocked: she has keys to half the nhl's home???

jackhughes @/trevorzegras we told you to bite marchand, not your son!

trevorzegras no, i was told to bite him in retaliation if he licked me! he didn't lick me!

jackhughes so you don't deny the bite allegations?

trevorzegras cole has a video of me and y/n biting you at the same time! i have no defense!

yourusername @/trevorzegras why would you share that with the world?

trevorzegras @/yourusername you share so much worse things

yourusername @/trevorzegras touché

jackhughes @/yourusername @/trevorzegras you two never let me have any fun

yourusername @/jackhughes you could bite marchand! that would be fun!

jackhughes @/yourusername i could bite quinn before that! and z after!

yourusername @/jackhughes GREAT IDEA! do that one! throw in draisaitl! bite a guy on every team in the west!

_quinnhughes @/jackhughes don't do that

trevorzegras @/jackhughes do that

jackhughes @_quinnhughes sorry, captain bubba! it's 3 against 1

leocarlssoon did i start this?

trevorzegras @/leocarlssoon we started it with your mom! it was a family bonding activity

----

rbs appreciated! tell me whatcha think <3

#penalty box series #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras au #trevor zegras fic #trevor zegras fanfic #trevor zegras insta edit #quinn hughes #leo carlsson #jamie drysdale #cole caufield #quinn hughes imagine #jamie drysdale imagine #luke hughes #ethan edwards #mason mctavish #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #trevor zegras x y/n #trevor zegras x hughes reader

[my-love-is-sunlight]

Dance with me

Sanji x gardener!reader

Gn reader + fluff drabble based on this post by @misslovasstuff 🫶🏻

The orange light that hangs from the kitchen roof contrast with the dark skies and shinny stars all across it, the sea is calm, almost trying to lull everyone on the ship to close their eyes. No danger awaits the crew as they sleep soundly

Well almost everyone

Every night after dinner, Sanji stays to clean up and maybe do some breakfast prep or some quick snacks to toss Luffy tomorrow day

You sit content on the table, feet hanging as they move at the rhythm of the music from the den den radio, humming along completely lost on its melody as you make your dear chef some company

Sanji can’t help but smile to himself, this rare uneventful night that gifts him this moment that feels so domestic and just so right. He steals you a glance, your humming turning into a quiet singing, every note swiping him off his feet

He wipes his hands on a towel before he approaches you, his eyes never leaving your sight. When he comes across your line of vision you smile brightly at him, melting him into a puddle in front of you. He turns the volume of the den den radio up, an offering hand extended your way as he does a little reverence making you giggle at his well known antics

“Would you please be so kind as to gift me this dance, my love?” He says peeking at your expression, expectant

Without hesitation you take his hand and stand up with him, your hands growing fresh flowers at his touch

“I should warn you, I am not a dancer” a slight pink sits on your cheeks, a little nervous to follow along

But Sanji doesn’t listen, one of his hands travel to your waist while the other extends your arm to the side, naturally making your free hand to sit on top of his toned shoulders, the so familiar feeling of the fabric of his tailored shirt settling your nerves

“Just follow me”

Carefully he sways your bodies to the rhythm of the song playing, eyes locked into each other like a bounding spell. The kitchen floor creeks with every step you take, but it doesn’t bother you

The intimacy of it all makes you feel like you’re suspended on air, light as a feather as you move around completely lost on the moment. Maybe the lighting is a little off, maybe you’re both very sleep deprived and exhausted from a long hardworking day, but Sanji looks so happy, so beautiful, so unreal

Ocean eyes looking back with so much tenderness; his hands delicately gripping on your form, as if making sure you’re real, that you’re there with him; his blonde hair moves along with his steps revealing his handsome face; the so comforting smell of smoke and fresh fruit and his sweet smile

You could have this forever

He makes you turn which earns a laugh out of you, and in that moment Sanji feels like the luckiest man on the seas, your laugh even more beautiful of a melody than the music on the background

“And you said you weren’t a dancer” he whispers playfully, his breath hitting your neck

“I guess I just needed a prince to come and show me how to really do it” he immediately blushes, stumbling as your voice calling him a prince echoes in his head over and over again

In a swift move to the right, you remove your hand from his as you make petals fall from your hands all around you. You circle back to Sanji as he remains perplexed at your action, he keeps dancing but his mind is full with you you and you

The song ends and you stay entangled in the middle of the kitchen, smiling back at each other completely lovesick

“I love you” he whispers out of breath, your hands leaving to reach for his face, your lips find his like they always do and you kiss effervescently, like a dream you don’t want to wake up from

“If life by your side is like this, I want it to be forever you”

#one piece #sanji oneshot #sanji fluff #sanji imagine #sanji fanfic #sanji x reader #op sanji #vinsmoke sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji x y/n #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji fluff #one piece vinsmoke sanji #one piece sanji #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #x reader #x you #x y/n #black leg sanji #fluff #drabble #fanfic

[totallyunidentified]

Plan 99

This one...I humbly apologize.

I am writing something sweet i promise its just taking longer.

Plan 99. He knew what it meant. They all knew what it meant. 

But would anyone explain it to Phee?

He never had understood the sentimentality of love. 

Never believed that he would experience it. 

But hanging underneath the cable car. 

Hearing his brothers and sister yell at him. He finally knew what it was.

As he pulls the trigger he knows he isn't coming back from this. 

The probability is too low. He ran the numbers in his head when he lifted the blaster. 

As he shoots he takes one last look at his younger brother and older sister.

Memorizing Omega’s face and Wreckers helmet. 

He wishes, selfishly, he could have seen him without it one last time. 

Wishes he could have argued with Echo

Could have strategized with Hunter 

Could have just spoken with Crosshair.

Just one last time

As he closes his eyes he recalls the face that he had memorized against his will. 

He thought of her constantly.

When he flew his ship. Phee.

When he thought about Pabu. Phee.

When he ran back towards the cable car. Phee.

Phee Genoa. A woman. Something he had never thought he would get to have the pleasure of knowing.

She was effervescent,incredible, intelligent, warm, and hundreds of other words in thousands of languages. 

Tech had an entire folder of words he saw fit to describe her. 

He had heard stories of the regs' escapades with nat born females but had decided that with an intellectual mind such as his own, he would neither find someone who would put up with him, nor would he ever grow attached.

To his surprise. His astonishment. This was the only time he had been wrong.

But was he glad for it. 

She confounded him constantly. 

Never doing what he predicted. 

He recalls the first time they met. She called him “Brown eyes” despite the fact that all clones eyes are the same brown. 

But, it made him feel different.

He of course ran a full diagnostic later on but nothing explained the feelings in his stomach when she spoke to him. 

When their eyes met. 

When he held her against him as they scaled the wall on Pabu.

He didn't particularly like physical touch but for her he could make exceptions. 

He remembers how she and Omega became fast friends. 

How he didnt know how much he would enjoy watching them interact.

As he falls his mind races and it feels like time slows down.

He quickly presses a button on his helmet that automatically plays his favorite recording.

He watches as Phee turns to him in Cid’s office. 

Charming as she always was.

And the last thing he hears is her voice calling him Brown eyes. 

ᐧ

ᐧ

ᐧ

ᐧ

ᐧ

ᐧ

ᐧ

ᐧ

ᐧ

The pirate’s ship wasn’t protected. She just left it open. 

It was all too easy to get on the ship and get the coordinates. 

He completed the mission but something makes him pause. 

His orders were to dispose of her if she caused trouble. 

But those were orders he didn’t feel the need to follow. 

She looked familiar 

Like a distant memory 

No sense in hurting something so…effervescent

Effervescent? Where had that come from? 

He watches her closely as she inspects the hangar.

There’s something inside him fighting to get to her. 

For a moment there’s whispers in his mind. As if someone is trying to escape.

He shakes his head and it’s gone. 

Whatever was before is gone. He is what remains. And that night when he looks in the mirror in his quarters. A pair of mechanical eyes, stark white stare back at him.

#the bad batch #star wars #tbb #bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #tbb spoilers #tbb season three #tbb season 3 spoilers #tbb tech #tbb techphee #tbb cx 2 #the bad batch tech #the bad batch spoilers #the bad batch season 3 spoilers #tbb phee #tbb tech x phee #tbb crosshair

[cozy-cinnamon-roll]

Stitches (Part II)

(Read Part I Here! used to be We Interrupt This Broadcast... changed the name because I feel like this fits better 😅)

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Ler!Rosie, Ler!OC, Lee!Alastor (strictly platonic)

Content/Trigger Warnings: tickling, very brief blood mention, medical themes (non-graphic & painless). And again, this is set right after Alastor gets his ass handed to him by Adam, so you can expect some angst (don't worry, he gets better).

If there are any trigger warnings you'd like me to add in the future (and/or to this fic), PLEASE let me know! I am always happy to oblige. 💕

This is a ticklefic! If that's not your cup of tea, kindly move along.

"Almost ready" I said. "Basically finished" I said. Sorry y'all, the Chronic Illness Fairy struck. 😅 I will say this was my favorite part to write, but also the one I'm most uncertain about... bit more angst in this installment and I'm not much of an angst writer lol... but with Rosie in the mix (especially as a ler), angst never lasts long. 🥰

Also I changed the title. Hopefully it's not confusing that way... cuz without Part 1 this fic makes zero sense 😅

One last thing... I'm so happy y'all like Trudy! Was thinking about posting a lil sketch of her at some point (I need a new insomnia project now that this fic is done 😅). I've been having a truly awful few weeks on the anxiety front, so all the positive feedback on Part I has been quite literally making my days 💕

Hope you enjoy!!

--------------------------------------------------------------

"Ooh, you stubborn little bastard. You're still gonna refuse to laugh?" Rosie mutters.

Alastor doesn't dare try to speak. All he can manage is a defiant shake of his head.

"Look, my friend. If you 'don't mind a little tickling,' and getting all giggly is your specialty…" Rosie tweaks his bottom rib, eliciting a noise that comes just short of a squeak. "What, exactly, is the problem here?"

"I'm supposed to be in control!" he grinds out through his twitching grin.

"You are in control, sir." Trudy abruptly withdraws her hands, holding them up innocently. "You can tell me to stop at any time."

Alastor cringes. He was sorta hoping no one would point that out.

"Which is why I find it so fascinating that you haven't yet." A sly smirk creeps across Rosie's face.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"I- I'm humoring you!"

"Humoring me?" Rosie tilts her head. "My dear, I hope you're not doing this just for my sake. If you don't want Trudy to check for further injury-"

"No, I do! O-on my terms!"

"This is on your terms."

"Yes, but-"

"In fact, you insisted."

He stumbles again, before mumbling another meager, "…to humor you!"

Trudy shoots her boss a disoriented look - but Rosie, as usual, is hearing her friend loud and clear.

"Alastor." Rosie rolls her eyes, gestures for Trudy to step aside, and scoots over to place a hand on his knee. "Adam is dead. Everyone in hell thinks you're either succumbing to your wounds in some remote gutter or hiding in whatever alternate dimension you just spent the last seven years. You're not even 'on air'." She leans in. "You can drop the act for a moment, if it's what you need."

That certainly hits the mark. For the first time, Alastor's smile falters - not completely dropping, but certainly losing much of the strained quality it's had since he arrived.

"I wish I could, my dear."

Encouraged, Rosie continues. "Well, what's stopping ya? As much as I love spending time with Alastor the Radio Demon… if you wanna take this opportunity to let out whoever's underneath that effervescent grin of yours, you know we wouldn't mind."

Alastor swallows - and for the first time in a decades, Rosie finds his expression difficult to read. "Rosie, I'm afraid I can't really..."

"I mean, you've been holding that same silly show-host-smile for years! Don't tell me you've never gotten tired of it!"

"It's sewn on, Rosie."

"…What?"

He hesitates. "Let's just say today wasn't the first time I've been, ah... stitched up." As he speaks, he gestures to his toothy grin. And for once, there's not a trace of distortion in his voice.

Rosie's dark eyes go wide when she realizes what he means. The cannibal overlord just stands there for a beat, in an uncharacteristic moment of shock.

But, being Rosie, she quickly recovers. "Well, so what?"

"I'm just saying, I'm afraid I can't really drop the act."

"Nonsense! Since when has your act had anything to do with your face?" Rosie flicks her hand, as if brushing the thought aside. "Who cares if you can't show genuine Alastor. I wanna hear him."

"But my microphone..."

"You're doing just fine without it."

Once again, this attempt at reassurance only makes Alastor look more disturbed. "Th-this can't be me!"

"...Well, no. This right here sure isn't the Alastor I know. But…"

Alastor is barely listening to her anymore. His broadcast persona has been his sole identity since he was alive. Now his radio tower has been reduced to rubble, his microphone snapped clean in half, even his carefully-styled clothing left in tatters…

If this is the Genuine Alastor he's now stuck with - panicked, stuttering, weak - he can't imagine how he'll ever be able to face the rest of hell…

But these racing thoughts are once again interrupted by nails tracing up his sides. A sharp yelp cuts the air as poor Alastor just about jumps out of his skin.

"…Perhaps I can offer a little help?" Rosie suggests gently, once she has his undivided (and adorably flustered) attention. "On your terms, of course?"

Alastor just gazes back at her for a long moment. "What do you have in mind?"

"I happen to know something about you that even you can't fake."

The radio demon hesitates… before heaving a sigh and, to Rosie's surprise, giving a small nod of consent.

She breaks into a brilliant (and frankly terrifying) smile.

Before Alastor can brace himself, Rosie's hands have both found his sides and begun working into his waist. Having just watched him squirm around under Trudy's thorough probing twice (and adored every second of it), she already has a pretty good idea of where his worst spots are.

Which is made abundantly clear by Alastor's reaction. Within seconds he's gone from still trying to hold it all in by habit, to giggling into his hands, to cackling hysterically.

And it's the kind of laughter she's spent the last seven years missing. This isn't the confident, taunting chuckle he brings out for battles or brushing off rivals; this is bright, helpless, occasionally hiccuping laughter, the kind that is nearly impossible for him to stop once he starts - and the kind she only has the privilege of hearing when something truly amuses him.

"You can't sew your laughter on," Rosie reminds him. "This is all yours."

Rosie's fingers creep up under his shirt to scribble on bare tummy, adding a couple new sweet spots to her mental catalogue. This technique brings out even more of her favorite little quirks: the way he bats playfully (and completely ineffectually) at her wrists; his repeated attempts to speak around his laughter that only result in frantic spurts of incomprehensible, giggle-laced gibberish.

As she traces her nails across his lower belly she also finds a tiiiny layer of unexpected pudge. Which probably shouldn't surprise her - he's been out of the battle scene for seven years, after all. All those deer carcasses have to go somewhere.

Regardless, she finds it terribly endearing for some reason... and the surge of affection translates into a corresponding surge in the intensity of Rosie's tickles.

"AHaha! Ro- Rosie!" he blurts, his voice jumping a full octave higher than normal. "Stop!!"

Rosie removes her hands immediately. "Stop?"

"Aha- ah- well- I mean, er…" He stumbles breathlessly, and gives a sheepish cough.

"You didn't really want me to stop, did you?"

Rosie resumes with a chuckle, reeling herself in just a little. "How 'bout we say... oh... 'enough,' if you really want me to quit?"

Of course, she has to go and say it out loud.

"M-more of a reflehex..." he admits reluctantly.

Alastor tosses a shaky thumbs-up at her, already too lost in his own giggles to manage a verbal reply.

And he's gotta admit… Rosie was absolutely right. He wouldn't stop her right now for all the souls in hell. There's a reason Alastor has the most recognizable evil cackle of any other overlord. He can't help but find dissolving into laughter as cathartic and exhilarating as always - even if this time, it's not at some poor soul's misfortune. It's a result of his best friend's affection for her darling deer demon.

"As fun as getting your soft little belly is," Rosie muses, pausing to let Alastor catch his breath for a moment, "I can't help but wonder if you're ticklish anywhere else…"

Alastor may be off the air, but Rosie can practically hear the screech of microphone feedback just by the look on his face. "….I plead the fifth."

"Have you considered his ears?" Trudy pipes up shyly. While she'd managed to restrain herself behind an impeccably professional bedside manner earlier, it had taken everything in her power not to stroke Alastor's ears when she'd been close enough to do so. They were just. so. fluffy.

"Ohhh, heavens…" Alastor, for his part, curls in on himself at the mere suggestion.

Rosie grins. "Hey, 'no' is always an option."

A long pause. Alastor can't believe he's considering this. But the sensation of being tickled, as unbearable as it is, does feel awfully pleasant… and it's been so long since anyone has dared to touch him…

And what else does he have to lose at this point, anyway?

"I suppose if you're… very gentle…"

"Are you aware that your ears are the softest thing in the nine circles?"

This stipulation ends up backfiring. When it comes to his ears, gentle is worse. So, so much worse.

Poor Alastor is too busy clutching his stomach and snickering madly into his sleeve to reply.

"I should know, I work in retail. These right here-" Rosie traces her fingers down the feathery-soft edges, sending the radio demon into a new round of hysterics. "-Would fetch a pretty penny."

"They're nohot for saHA-ale!!"

"Nooo, I should say not." Rosie's hapless victim lurches back into the cushions as her fingers find the fluffy region at the base of his ears. Even without the microphone, his cackles have no problem filling the room. "You're the only demon classy enough to wear them."

"And don' you - GAHaha! - f-forget it!" He's so drunk on laughter now that he's beginning to slur his words. His careful elocution has gone the same place as his steady tone, and lack of stutter.

Luckily, he's also far too drunk on laughter to care.

...Right about there, Rosie notices that the faint hum of radio static in the air is no longer just in her head.

He is laughing his heart out for the first time in weeks. Genuinely laughing for the first time in decades. And laughing completely for himself, for his own enjoyment, without need for intimidation or control or image or audience, for the first time since long before he died.

While Trudy typically can't say much for her self-preservation instinct, she's got enough of one to feel hesitant joining her boss in tickling the most powerful overlord in hell (outside the pretense of medical intervention, at least). So she just stands back, watching fondly as The Most Dangerous Overlord This Side of the Pentagram utterly destroys the deer demon.

...At least, until she notices a flicker of green light out of the corner of her eye. Lying forgotten on the end table, the splintered ends of Alastor's microphone are sparking and crackling like live wires.

The surgeon creeps over for a closer look, staring in fascination. And then - just as Rosie gets poor Alastor behind the ears and delivers a scribble to his tummy at the same time - she ever-so-gently nudges the fractured ends closer to one another.

To her surprise, a bright green spark arcs clear across the gap. For a fraction of a second, the whole staff radiates a flash of a familiar green glow.

--------------------------------------------------------------

"Keep him laughing, Rosie," Trudy murmurs over her shoulder. It appears the Radio Demon's downfall will be nothing more than an intermission.

Thanks for being so patient with me y'all! Hope it was worth the wait 💕

💜- Cozy

#lee!alastor #ler!rosie #ticklish!alastor #oh deer he's ticklish #hazbin hotel tickling #hazbin hotel tickles #ticklefic #dr. trudy sawblade #my ocs

[neverchecking]

Ok my friend 🐲 Aron sent me the request you did for them

And I have jump on the wagon I am a huge smip for rauru and I wish he was fallowing us .

But I have a huge idea can I request yandere rauru x Link sister reader Where the reader has been with her twin brother though everything and rauru not only saves Link but his twin who both have weapon of light.

And rauru some how join Link and the reader on the journey and Link know rauru is yandere for his sister but know he is only one worth of her and gives him the ok Plus link knows he won't hurt his sister unlike some one who did AKA Zelda abd he is low-key playtonic yandere for his sister. So he ok with rauru

So rauru and the reader are in a cave to get away from a gelok king ( I heard about it don't know where. I just took down the thunder one.) And he in heat which he has not been in for so long. And the reader fighting a bunch of enyms and her get hurt triggers his animal wild side and he quickly goes to save the reader who is being overwhelmed by monsters.

And he see They have a mix of monster extract mix with mud bud and dazzle fruit that makes the person that smell's it go super horny and if they don't get help they can die.

And of course raturu needs to help his soulmate and breed's her and quickly takes her to the time temple and puts her in a nest for more breeding.

And can I be 🐔aroun I love the cucos!

You absolutely can! Welcome to the party 🐔anon!

I've never written for Rauru before so bare with me? I also fucked around with Spirits and stuff here. So give me some leeway here please?

TotK Spoilers.

Smut so MDNI! 18+!

Smut CW:

・❥・Raura was...unaware that the swordsman had a sibling. Nevertheless one as effervescent as you were.

・❥・He hadn't seen anyone with quite so much effortless grace since his late wife.

・❥・Of course, he didn't know about you until seeing you creep alongside both your brother and Zelda into the cave where the Demon King was being held. You had expressed your distaste, quite loudly in fact, but were ignored.

・❥・By Zelda. Link had taken your fears to heart offering a hand to you to ease your nerves.

・❥・You seemed far too delicate for this line of research however.

・❥・From the pieces Rauru had picked up, you were a researcher for the Zonai culture, taking a great interest in his race. It made his ears twitch in joy as he watched you awe over the carvings on the wall.

・❥・You were so...spirited in everything you did. Even as your brother fell to the Demon King's prowess. Zelda had been launched and he had to make the difficult decision between you and her. You made it for him, pushing him towards the Princess.

・❥・ You were naively selfless even when it meant you were the only one remaining in the Demon King's line of sight.

・❥・He had launched himself at you, but in doing so had also freed Rauru.

・❥・In the miniscule time frame given, he had managed to not only save you, but your brother as well, even if gloom riddled your veins and threatened your very precious life.

・❥・You staggered and swayed when you had awoken, fretting over your brother before even daring to glance out the entrance. From there, he had beckoned you towards the Temple.

・❥・Link had gone off to get the Light orbs, leaving you to stand guard at the door. Leaving you with him.

・❥・You had introduced yourself to him, bashfully thanking him for everything he had done- to which he waved off. It would be such a waste to see a life as bright and eccentric as yours burn out so quickly.

・❥・When it became obvious that you were so fragile, especially with the new enemies headed your way, Rauru had made the executive decision to abandon the temple to join you. While Link had lost an arm, you had lost a bit of your rib cage, which now was stitched together with Zonai tech and prayers. His sage made up the center component over your heart. He would follow you.

・❥・He would protect you.

・❥・Between himself and Link, who refused to let you wander far, you never saw so much as a scratch. Rauru understood he was powerful and knew that the only reason the demon king had lasted as he did was because he was unprepared (And had to care for Zelda).

・❥・That was not the case with these riff-raff bokoblins or measly Moblins.

・❥・They could barely point to scream before falling by his claws in a puff of smoke.

・❥・He had eventually gained Link's confidence in his ability to protect you, meaning the swordsman would leave you in his capable hands to tackle some of the...more difficult challenges.

・❥・That did not stop you from finding trouble that even Rauru was hard pressed in saving you from.

・❥・Oh no. When word from another researcher came about a stone that could bring a spirit back to their living form you ran off without much more than a note for your brother.

・❥・However, it came at cost. You had to slay the King Gleeok-- a beast not even Rauru ever went looking for a fight from. It was high in the sky islands (If your looking for specifics, lmk, I gotcha) and you were hardpressed to get to it, even with a Zonai glider. But by the Goddess, you had done it.

・❥・You had much more skill than Rauru had previously given you. Your intellect with the herbs of this world combined with your cutthroat aim was enough to have the Gleeok biting at it's own heads as you shot at it with bomb flowers.

・❥・Just watching you take down this massive beast had something he had not felt since the heartbreak of Sonia's death stirring.

・❥・Zonai had had breeding seasons for millennia before him, but he had only ever gone through one.

・❥・This had felt exactly like this one time. And he wasn't anywhere near prepared.

・❥・He had viewed you as his soul partner by this point. As if Sonia's soul had come back to form you. To give him another chance at love. To sooth his aching heart and mend it together.

・❥・The Gleeok fell with a mighty roar, pulling him out of his stoop. You were victorious, but wounded, quickly scampering to the chest remaining. Inside was the very stone you were looking for, showing it to him with a bright smile.

・❥・Throughout it all you still smiled.

・❥・And it made his heart race. Moreso when you offered the gem with the explanation you had wanted it for him. If he choose to take it.

・❥・It was not a hard decision.

・❥・It was an...unfamiliar feeling. Getting weight back to his previously weightless limbs, which now had bones and flesh. Muscles and fat. Fur and hair.

・❥・It was all so new to him once more.

・❥・A shrill cry had you both looking up to where an army of the dastardly flying rats were, eyes set on you. You were in no condition to keep fighting.

・❥・Lucky for him, he was.

・❥・It took very little time to wipe them out, but by the time he had done so, whatever heat in his gut had amplified by ten. And you were looking at him with those big doe eyes, singing his praise over and over and-

・❥・And he just had to have you.

・❥・To breed you and mate you and make you his. His, his, his.

His claws raked against your hips as his hips smacked against yours. Over and over again, reaching deep within you and crashing against your cervix. You had expressed concern in whether his species were meant for intercourse with Hylians. Where or not he would fit.

He assured you he would.

And he did.

Watching your drooling cunt stretch around him, fighting to make room and to accommodate for him had him disgustingly intrigued. He couldn't rip his eyes free from it, watching as he sunk into you only to pull back and do it once more. Over and over and over again. Until you were nothing but a babbling mess beneath him.

Watching your body move and rock with him was more than he ever could've imagined, calling his attention when it wasn't watching your greedy little hole.

He could've died here, again, a happy man. A much more fulfilled man.

He knew he wanted you to carry his kits, he just knew it, and with the way your body seemed so receptive to his, it was bound to happen. Your body seemed to accepted every little thing he did.

And when it did accept his young, he would ensure your safety at all times.

No more exploring the depths for Zonite. No more running around playing construction worker. No more playing hero and fighting Gleeoks.

No, he would build you a gorgeous nest in the temple of Time where no one could touch you. Where you could care and carry his kits until they were good and ready to be birthed.

Your brother would make the effort to visit, he knows Link would. You would miss nothing on the ground level.

All you would need would be him. Right in front of you. and he wouldn't lose that chance again.

#🐔anon #linked universe #yandere linked universe #linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe x reader #linkeduniverse #yandere legend of zelda #legend of zelda #loz #link x reader #cindersins #Rauru x reader #Yandere Rauru x reader

[sgiandubh]

Hi there. I enjoyed your post about Sam’s brand and it got me thinking. I feel like he’s stuck between trying to do what other people tell him he should to “make it” and trying to do it himself. Other people: you’re hot, show it off, do action movies, date blonde floozies. Himself: I want to be a good person and a decent actor, but what if I’m not? Guess I should work a lot, build a non-acting brand just in case I get fired, but try not to pay too many people to market it, I can do that myself; the liquor has the added benefit of getting his name out there and hopefully giving him another income stream if acting goes to shit. Where this all becomes problematic is that he’s not the person others tell him to be, so he comes off as fake, inconsistent, disingenuous, contradictory. I worry though that he can’t break away from these “advisors” because of whatever hole he and caitriona have themselves in with Starz and their bosses. We may not all agree on what happened in 2016 or why, but it’s obvious something did. The difference between them both since then is stark. The light has dimmed. They’ve aged exponentially. They’re guarded. They’re not the effervescent dynamos they started out as. She looks pissed all the time, like she’ll trot Tony out if necessary, but she won’t look like she enjoys it. She’ll go to awards ceremonies, but she won’t look as gorgeous as she easily could. She won’t be their ingenue. I don’t know, I think they’re stuck and are limited in what they can actually do for themselves, as much as they might like to. I can only hope there is an end in sight for them and they can persevere until then!

PS, I watched She Said last night. Highly recommend for anyone who doesn’t think a network executive could or would force their tent pole stars to deny a relationship.

Dear She Said Anon,

I liked your submission so much, I have read it three times in a row (and damn the late hour!). I have very few things to add to your excellent assessment of what I think is a very complicated situation. The proverbial Scottish parsimony could explain the choice of a minimally budgeted, all hands on deck sales and advertising approach. But we are quickly passing this stage and he should seriously think of hiring true professionals, if he really wants to make a financial lifebelt out of SS.

Yes. There's a price to be paid for all the games they are being served to play (and yes, something terrible happened in January 2016, of which we will probably never have the full details). Both of them are now striving to show us they can (scantily, painfully) exist without the magical Other. She, with that colorless, wrist-grabbing, fist-clenching literally dumb person (strictly meaning that we never hear him). He, with that (forgive me, Father, for I am about to sin) questionable, loud and tacky Oriental consigliere (it is high time I should write that paper on the Persia I know and love, lest you or other Anon think I am racist, or something). You can't figure out more opposite add-ons to Those Two, both serving, I believe, the same purpose: to deflect, at all costs, any attention given to the real state of play.

I haven't watched She Said yet and I welcome and thank you for the suggestion. On a lighter note, I trade for it Call My Agent (I have already mentioned this very, very witty French series, dealing with the life in a Parisian talent agency) - it shouldn't be a problem to find it on Netflix.

Good night, Anon. This one below is me thanking you for your trouble and time writing this wonderful post. Just look at Mitsuko Uchida's genuine Joy while playing Beethoven - same energy as Two People We Know, back in 2014, right?

#Anon

[bearofohu]

my live slug reactions to the nwos stream

- the art style was so fucking charming christ im SO fucking glad they didn’t ditch the 3D/2D mix

- THE 3D ART STYLE LOOKS SO GOOD??? WHAT THE FUCK?? THEY FINALLY FIGURED OUT HOW TO MAKE 3D LAYTONESQUE ITS PERFECT

- LUKE HIT PUBERTY THE NEW VOICE FUCKING SENT ME BLASTING INTO THE OZONE LAYER THATS MY LITTLE GUY HE IS SUCH A LITTLE GUY BUT HES GROWING LIKE A FUCKING WEED AND I CANT

- genuinely so fucking relieved that it is a genuine UF sequel. that was my prediction the moment i saw the direct teaser and like my intuition is pristine i am worthy of my namesake

- airship airship airship AIRSHIP AIRSHIP AIRSHIP

- i LOVE how they expanded on the short bit from the teaser especially since this just kind of felt like an expansion of it

- LUKE AND HIS FUCKASS LITTLE RIDE EXCUSE ME??? LUKE PULLING UP ON LAYTON IN HIS LITTLE FUCKING SWAGWAGON?? HELLO?? WHAT A FUCKING POWERMOVE HES A MENACE

- he’s a ROBOTICS BOY i CANNOT I LOVE that for him i love him doing robot steampunk shit it’s perfect effervescent even

- THE FACT THAT HINO MENTIONED THAT LUKE WHO IS 14 IS MORE POPULAR IN AMERICA IN HIS MENTOR PROFESSOR HERSHEL LAYTON IS THE FUNNIEST SHIT I HAVE EVER HEARD IMAGINE GETTING TO FUCKING AMERICA AND YOUR 14 YEAR OLD SON IS ALREADY MAKING YUOR ASS IRRELEVANT GOODBYE

- honestly glad that this stream didn’t reveal too much yet because fuck this already got me fucked right up

- i was too busy screaming so im sure i missed some shit

#professor layton #pl #nwos #pl nwos #new world of steam #liveblog #caps

[chantsdemarins]

Find Tom: Part 2

(a little new art too)

The whole "soccer era" Tom was the push I needed to jump back into a Tom fic, although I am by far much more comfortable just sticking with Loki. I hope this isn't cringey. It’s not that great but I feel like it needs to be posted. 😑

⚠️It's mature so no under 18 readers!

❤️It's a love poem with not a lot of plot!

☠️I used some new smutty words

Lastly, I truly appreciate anyone who takes the time to read my work! No comment is too small, no reblog is unfelt. I wouldn't do any of this if I didn't have readers. You mean the world to me.

@lovelysizzlingbluebird @mischief2sarawr @five-miles-over @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @mochie85 @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @kats72 @fictive-sl0th @sailorholly @tbhiddlestan83 @peaches1958 @huntress-artemiss @goblingirlsarah @jennyggggrrr @mjsthrillernp @wolfsmom1 @lady-rose-moon @mygfloki @buttercupcookies-blog @lokixryss @simplyholl @eleniblue @kingtwhiddleston

Thank you-thank you-thank you!

Read Find Tom Part 1

He had stayed an extra week-you had called in to work with hope and a prayer you wouldn’t lose your job.

How could you have known that the remarkable business of bedding a movie star not only included being passionately taken on every mid-modern furnishing capable of withstanding Tom’s athleticism but also came replete with nuanced discussions of such things as little-known facets of British history?

A mere night with this man would have been impossible. His words alone filled the time so completely while his cock took up the rest of the hours left in the day. You needed a lifetime but would have to settle for a week. You also felt like Tom’s spare thoughts were enough to earn him a second Cambridge degree.

You often found yourself pouring strong coffee between glasses of Cab to keep your mind sharp enough to ask intelligent follow-up questions. Which you always did. It was impossible not to notice how his conversational ability effervesced through him, a surging sparkle that galvanized in his eyes, creating a disproportionate lure and the impulse to return the enchanting discourse in kind. Over the course of the week, you had time to observe how many of Tom’s features would appear as backdrops to his emotions.

Like the plane of his nose, its pristine alpine slope, when he was grinding his hips into you. Or how his smile consumed half of his face while his lips found yours.

His eyes were mesmerizing vehicles of his intellect like twin comets streaking the sky. You had to watch them. You couldn’t take your own eyes off them. He saw not only you but what was beyond you, possibly what you would become. He had a witchy sense.

Also, strangely when you least expected it, a pallor of sadness would also occasionally descend between your bodies. A departure from his enthusiastic nature that usually led the way. It was clear something had made a lasting impact on him. Was it another woman? A situation? Strife of the elite? Champagne problems that you could never understand. You wanted to ask him to tell you, but you let the sadness be a silent companion to your passion.

All this revelation was amplified in the vintage quiet of the Sea Ranch cottage you had all to yourselves.

That first night, he took you easily. Perhaps embarrassingly easy. After all, you’d been wet since you saw him from across the crowded room. An uncomfortable distraction while you talked about your lives and listened to the quartet play The Lark Ascending in the main room of the after-party. Something about the tender violin and his deep voice from a place far away. The details. The decorations, wild peach-colored streamers blowing in the ocean wind battering the rafters. A hum in your ears.

The way he leaned in closer when you knew he could hear you. You’d swallow him up if given the chance. Later at his Sea Ranch cottage, what felt like an eternity after so much conversation and ephemera, you were finally a crumpled passionate mess. You remember looking down and seeing him finally enter you, the implications, the spectacle.

You felt your breath leave and never quite return.

Later as dawn coursed through and put the evening to rest, Tom made sure to use the California poppy napkins to tidy you both up but stopped himself short of a full janitorial protocol. There was something a little wicked about his disregard. He liked seeing you wrecked. He liked seeing the lingering elements of the sex you just had, still on you. He didn’t want to make things too neat. You felt exposed but did not want to assemble a wall between you.

The instinct was that of vulnerability. Only sometimes found in casual romance. Only sometimes experienced by you.

By Tuesday, Tom’s effulgent historical discourse had fully found its way into your conversation yet again. You sat on the ocean-facing porch in two aging red deck chairs, a temptation for Tom’s fingers. He easily peeled off their flaking paint and collected it into a neat pile on the property’s 1972 glass Sands Hotel ashtray.

He would continue to move the small pile around with his long finger mixing the chipped paint with the singed tobacco and marijuana wrappings from the day for the hours you talked. Tom would grow quiet only when he rolled his own cigarettes one-handed.

You wondered if he smoked back in London or only when on holiday or business, or as an affront to suffocating California standards of healthy living. The sea wind picked up and moved through his rust-colored hair, salt air conjuring it into full attention.

Apparently, he had forgotten his blow dryer, but now, surprisingly, he seemed besotted with his curls. He ran his hands through them as he resumed your previous conversation.

You tried not to lose your concentration on the details. Tom’s mental ephemera began to have a companion in the details of his being you were collecting in the hallows of your own mind. Topics spun wildly from one to another but often fell back into history and philosophy. You prided yourself in keeping up, even if you had to use the cottage's old ethernet cable and early 2000s PC to look up “ontology.”

"British history is rife with privileged white opportunists, wouldn't you say?" His words were intended for both the relentless waves below and you as he stared off into the inky distance. That was quite the conversation shift. You had both just been talking about Steinerberg, Switzerland. He’d been while filming The Night Manager. He went on.

"Take William Bennett, for example, a complete ass."

"William Bennett?" Repeating his choice of subject often gave you a few vital seconds to collect your thoughts.

"Indeed. He essentially earned his fame from an aquatint print of the New York City fire in 1836. The untold story is that he bought the original sketch from an impoverished Italian artist, Nicolino Calyo. Calyo was there amidst the 700 homes succumbing to flames. Bennett essentially duplicated it, and therefore, as a wealthy, idle British artist, he managed to elude any consequences." You scrunched your nose in a silent response before replying.

"And Calyo?" you finally ventured, already anticipating Tom's reply.

"Naturally, he ended up dead and destitute. The old D and D, if you will.”

You laughed but felt a parallel emerge within you. Your life seemed uncomfortably akin to Nicolino Calyo's. Your mind raced - was Tom, beneath his casual Louis Vuitton button-down, a modern William Bennett? Your thoughts looped back to yesterday's breathy exchange after you’d gone down on him and where you confessed that after a long hiatus, you'd begun painting again. Was he secretly archiving the ideas you'd shared about your nascent series, ready to unearth them during his leisure in Margate - a place allegedly sharing the "spirit and design" of Sea Ranch? While Tom moved your things inside as the chill of the evening overtook you both, your mind was fixated on your previous conversation.

In your carnally vexed state, you'd unveiled your infatuation with the hues of mint green, adobe red, and translucent pink. His curiosity had been particularly piqued by "adobe," which led to a discourse on the disparity between the tangible "true adobe" and the digitized shade we've now associated with the word.

He reflected on his time in New Mexico during the filming of the first Thor movie, where he was first introduced to the color scheme of the American Southwest. It had been a captivating conversation that moved fast. An image of Tom as a reincarnated William Bennett, unveiling his own mint green and adobe masterpiece at a glitzy auction event eight years from now felt lodged in your mind.

Apparently, this emerging anxiety of trusting such a departure from your usual type of lover was hard. None of your other partners would still an idea you had for a painting and make millions from it, but of course, neither would Tom. You were becoming irrational. You poured yourself a new glass of wine, emptying another bottle. Closing your eyes for a moment by yourself while Tom assembled the next part of your evening with his usual intentionality intact, even if he didn’t catch your mood. He tracked even the tiniest details in the short time you’d spent together. You wondered if his sadness had descended, preventing him from noticing.

The next day you made love in the early morning hours, savoring his body. He was deeply asleep his naked luminosity shining against the white of the sheets. Tom still smelled like the rosemary he had picked from the bushes out front. You had watched him in his running shorts and nothing else, springs of rosemary in his hands.

He remarked about how wild rosemary doesn’t grow in England; at least, he didn’t think so. He joked he would take some of it back in his suitcase. He’d smell like California. He’d smell like privileged things like taking an extra week off. At that moment, you had felt his lineage as if a halo surrounded him - an impenetrable force field.

The afternoon found you both in the living room, wrapped in tartan blankets, partaking in an improvised indoor picnic. Tom had run a 10-mile round trip to Jenner's only grocery store. The sight of him returning with baguettes, ham, brie, and more wine bottles settled his existence in your mind as a true enigma. His sweaty, proud smile covered his face completely as held the baguette up to the sky in a triumphant cheer. You ran to him and held him around his middle.

You always loved the way tall skinny guys felt. It was a too-familiar gesture for such a casual situation, you tried to pull back, but he nestled his head into the crook of your shoulder. You closed your eyes and heard only the ambient sound of birds.

The morning of the sixth day, you dressed in his white undershirt and boxer shorts. You both reveled in the amusement of exchanging clothing items to create new outfits each day. The addition of Tom’s packed subtly luxurious clothing gave you both interesting options. His Armani suit jacket with just your black underwear. Tom amusingly in your skirt, paired with his unexpected choice of nude suede Herve ankle boots.

Your scarf and his sleek Ray-Bans. His running shorts were cleverly repurposed as a strapless jumpsuit. In the end, the clothes would always come off. You would be naked. You would have your hands consuming one another in a shocking discovery of hidden pleasure. The responses were the truth.

The thing you both could trust. In his sighs, in the warm breath that haunted your collar bones. In the flush of his cheeks. In the sweat on his forehead or the goosebumps on your arms when his fingertips traced the edges of your body with the precision of an engineer, you held on to the touches, the utterances of euphoria. With every orgasm, you felt the incredible raw honor of being human.

You wanted to slow it down long enough to feel it truly. To feel a king cuming inside you. To feel his cum and his claim while lost in the gravity of his eyes. Those magnificent extensions of his brain were a lifeline. Your bodies became sculptures, black quartz in the hot sun.

By Sunday, the end of your time together had finally found its way to you. He whispered in your ear after pulling out, catching any breath he could. He could only stay until Monday, he had to go back to London. You stared at the slow oscillations of the Casablanca ceiling fan. “I’ll miss this,” your words were an echo of the real words you longed to say.

His eyes closed, lashes casting delicate shadows on his cheeks.

The woman he would one day choose to marry, you thought, God help her. She would undoubtedly be transformed if your brief moments with Tom were any sign. However, for some melancholic reason, you knew it wasn’t going to be you.

You weren’t destined to be the lover who would eventually turn into a wife. He only had room for the ecstasy of passion and intellectual tête-à-têtes. This affair was incomplete, with no clear conclusion in sight. It wasn't a tale like that of William Bennett and his ill-gotten fame through art theft—a story with a beginning, middle, and end.

No, this was something else entirely. Suddenly, as if he was privy to the endless stream of inner thoughts, Tom spoke. "I met you at the right time, y/n," he said, his piercing blue eyes now open.

He jumped out of bed and casually dressed, slipping on a single item of clothing or, more accurately, an accessory — his Gucci belt wrapped sideways around his bare body. It was difficult to concentrate as he strolled past the expansive windows of the cottage. His muscles and his semi-hard cock were the only things holding that thing in place. Your cheeks grew hot. Tom followed up his emotional revelation with a more practical question.

"Shall I make us eggs on this, our final morning together?”

Without waiting for your response, he ventured into the kitchen, energetically rummaging through the cabinets in search of pepper before swinging open the refrigerator.

As he busily prepared breakfast, his underlying sadness was emerging, defying the rational part of his mind that wished it weren't there. Balancing a glass bowl against his stomach, he swiftly began whisking eggs, his intense gaze fixed upon you. This prompted you to inquire once more, "Why is this the right time, Tom?"

He continued whisking the eggs as he replied, "You found me, truly. Sometimes, we serve that purpose for others, akin to amateur archaeologists. Returning to London, I will be more whole, not less."

You found yourself fidgeting with the hem of Tom's t-shirt you were now wearing.

"You desired this life you have didn't you? You wanted fame?"

"I don't know, y/n. I wanted to do what I loved," Tom confessed, pouring the frothy mixture into the heated pan.

"I doubt it’s that simple, I'm sure you've had to make difficult decisions to reach the top."

"Like parting ways with a beautiful woman I met while on an extended work trip?"

"Yes, exactly like that,” you struggled to say.

"It happens all the time, love, all the time. Regret is my middle name. Thomas Regret Hiddleston."

With that sentence, he refocused his attention on cooking, his hands and mind engaged in a synchronized activity not unlike sex, serving a similar yet less emotional purpose.

You discovered a tablecloth tucked away in the back of a cabinet and spread it over the aged blonde table. Professionally, he placed the plates of food before you.

"Quite the last supper we have here," you remarked, attempting a joke to mask your emerging underlying sadness, though failing in your intended delivery.

Your gaze fell to the floor, unable to meet the sunlight streaming through the windows or Tom's eyes. He continued in his relational eulogy, "Its breakfast, y/n, and many more will come. Someday, you'll have a partner, and I'll have someone too. We'll be enjoying meals with them, and something will trigger a memory. Perhaps we'll be by the sea on vacation, and you'll remember me, and I'll remember you."

So he was thinking similar thoughts as you. He did not feel he met his future wife at a Bay Area film festival after-party. It was a long shot at best. You nervously tried to continue talking.

"Of course, not simultaneously. How could we possibly know if we remember each other at the same time?"

"We will never know, y/n. We will only remember each other out-of-sync for the rest of our lives."

With that bittersweet but strangely truthful statement, he reached across the table and gently took your hand and kissed it. You wouldn’t watch him leave late that night. You skipped the coffee after the wine, and poured yourself another, watching the moon reflect off the darkness of the glass.

#tom hiddleston #loki fandom #mcu #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #loki art #loki fanart #marvel loki