#i hate this i hate capitalism all i ever do is sleep and work i hate this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kining-the-evil · 3 months

Note

Okay so hear me out, yandere Finnick Odair where he never lets the reader leave his house at victor's village, but somehow reader manages to escape and like reaches out to Snow because reader thinks he'll do something to help her. So Snow puts her on a train to the capital but when she gets to her room in the Presidential Palace Finnick is in there waiting her and tells her off for leaving him. Mid screaming at her he tells her that Snow ordered they get married Infront of the capital and all 12 districts so readers like offially suck with him and cant run away again.

(This was so long I'm so sorry, but I love your work sm!! ❤️)

My Pretty Little Bride

Summary: exactly what the request says

•

Warnings: Yandere!Finnick, kidnapping, drugging, emotional abuse, forced marriage, very small mention of what snow forces Finnick to do.

•

Hunger games masterlist. All masterlist

•

Taglist: @flowercrowns-goodvibes

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Finnick greeted as he walked into the kitchen. He placed a kiss on your head before walking over to stove. “What should we do for Breakfast?”

You ignored him, staring out the window. You were curled up on the window seat that looked out on the beach, giving you a perfect view of the ocean.

“What time did you get up?” You shrugged, making him sigh. “Don’t act like that, you’re the one who messed up our morning walks.”

The morning walks. It had taken months for Finnick to trust you enough to take you out. But you fucked it up when you tried to run last week. Instead of freedom, all you got was bruises along your body from him tackling you and dragging you back to the huge house he kept you locked in.

Finnick spent the morning ignoring you, as though you were a cat curled up on the window. He made breakfast, leaving yours at your normal spot while he ate his own. He cleaned the dishes, and excused himself to shower and change, leaving you alone again.

Before a year ago you didn’t know Finnick. Sure, you knew of him, everyone in district 4 did, but you didn’t know him. You weren’t even sure if you’d ever met the man before that morning. The morning you woke up in a soft, warm bed instead of the hard one you’d gone to sleep in. When you woke up in a strangers house that would become your prison.

The sun was almost completely up by the time you heard Finnick coming back down the stairs. You finally looked away from the window, seeing him for the first time that day. He was dressed up in nicer clothing, making your heart collapse. He only dressed like that when he was going to be seen by the Capital.

“I have to go to the Capital for a few days, maybe a week, for an event." He absentmindedly told you, checking his reflection in a mirror in the hall.

"What?"

A small smile grew on his face from the shakiness of your voice. Finnick knew the only thing you hated more than being locked up here with him was being locked up here alone.

Finnick turned and walked towards you, taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger to tip your head up towards him. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Everything in the house is stocked, and I'll be back in a few days." He pushed his lips to yours in a gentle kiss, not at all detoured by your lack of response. He gently caressed your face before stepping away with a sad smile.

You watched as he walked towards the door, and in a moment of desperation you ran at it. But of course, Finnick caught you in his large arms, swinging you both to face away from the door. "Don't you get tired of this?" He whispered against your neck while digging for something in his pocket. You hated how strong he was. Even now, as you used all of your body weight to fight against him, he only needed one arm to keep you pinned to his body. "Luckily I know you to well, my little bird. I was prepared." You caught sight of some sort of syringe, causing you to fight harder. Finnick sighed before pushing you against the wall roughly, making your head bounce against it. "Sorry, but I need you to be as still as possible." After a moment there was a sharp prick on your neck, and only seconds later your felt you fighting weaken. The room around you spun lightly as the corners of your vision went black. You went limp against Finnick as he whispered comfort into your ear. The last thing you hear being, "Just rest, little bird."

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You woke up in your bed. The whole room was dark, and you were tucked securely into the bed. Your entire body protested as you sat up, shaking slightly from the energy it took. Your mind still foggy as you stood up. You knew what this was, some sort of sedative Finnick liked to use. It would not only knock you out but leave you someone sedated for a few hours after waking up. On shaky legs you made your way over to the window, pulling back the curtains. Outside was dark, the only light coming from the moon shinning on the ocean. You must have slept through the day.

You pulled yourself away from the window, and after becoming aware of how dry your mouth felt, you started the long journey to the kitchen. The victors house was large, but with the drugs running through your system, it felt even larger. The walk down the stairs and into the kitchen felt like it took a good hour for you to get down there.

It was exactly the same as that morning, the plate of uneaten food Finnick had left you still sat on the table and his own dishes were still in the sink. You grabbed a glass, filling it with water and gulping it down. You repeated the process, trying to get rid of the dry, sandy feeling in your throat.

After a few more glasses, you stopped for a moment to catch your breath. You looked outside, watching as the water crashed onto the beach. Like almost every other kid in district 4, you had loved the ocean and the beach, and now you felt just like you had as a child. Never allowed to go alone, being told how dangerous the water could be if you were alone, Finnick scolded you about these things the same way your mother had, like you were just an ignorant child.

You felt tears of frustration Well up in your eyes, and you truly felt like a child. You wanted to scream about how unfair it was, wanted to stomp your feat and throw things, but every time you had Finnick just laughed and watched you.

But Finnick wasn’t here. And every moment you were getting more upset, more angry, and after a moment you grabbed some random statue off the count and threw it as hard as you could.

You didn’t think about where you were throwing it, and jumped when it made a loud smashing sound, the window it had hit shattering. You froze, the kitchen in silence as you stood there, staring at the now broken window, one thought running through your head.

You had to get outside.

Despite still being shaky, you climbed onto the counter, and after a moment of struggling, you climbed out of the window. You could feel the glass cutting you in a few places, and the ground scratched your knees as you fell to the ground outside, but it didn’t matter. You were outside.

You pushed yourself to your feet, and took off running. You didn’t really have a destination in mind, but your feet led you to the beach in front of the house. You didn’t stop until the rough sand became wet and cold beneath your feet, some of it squishing up between your toes. The water splashing up against your feet as the waves came in, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m free…” you whispered, taking a step further into the water. “I’m free!” You yelled, spinning in a circle as waves of excitement rolled over you. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt like this, and you couldn’t stop the laugh from escaping. You were out of that fucking house! Finally, you were free-

“Hey! What are you doing!?” A voice called out, making you stop your spinning and search for the voice. You found the source to be two peace keepers walking towards you, and you felt a new wave of relief rush over you. They would help you, get you somewhere safe.

“Please, I need your help,” you started towards them, but stoped, hands shooting up when a gun was pointed at you.

“Don’t move!”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” You stayed still as they walked up to you.

“What’s your name?” The older looking one questioned.

“Y/n l/n, please, I was taken from my home a year ago by Finnick Odair. He’s kept me locked up in his house for a year, but I escaped and I really need help-“

“Calm down ma’am.” The younger one spoke. “We’ll take you somewhere while we sort everything out.”

A few hours later you were sitting in the city building, the few cuts you had were wrapped up, and a blanket was brought to you and wrapped around your shoulders. No one had really spoken to you, but you didn’t mind. Just being in a different building than that damn house was comforting.

A little bit later two feet appeared in your vision and you looked up at the head peacekeeper. “Please come with me,” he instructed before turning to walk away. You quickly jumped up to follow him. You struggled to keep up for a few minutes before you finally spoke up.

“Where are we going?”

The peacekeeper slowly came to a stop before looking over at you. You couldn’t fully read his face, but he looked slightly conflicted.

“I’m not really supposed to tell you this, but we’re taking you to the capital.”

“The Capital? Why-“

“President Snow is concerned about what happened considering it was with a victor.” The man rushed out. “Now come on, your train will be leaving in a few minutes.”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The train ride, while nerve racking, was exciting. After seeing the same things day after day, the view out the train window was breathtaking. You spent almost the whole ride just sitting and watching. The only time you weren’t looking out the window you were eating the provided food.

Finnick didn’t cheep out on the food he provided at all, but what was provided on the train was beyond what you could imagine. An array of fancy food you couldn’t possibly know the names of, different meats and cheeses, soups and noodle dishes, and of course the large array of deserts. Cakes, cookies, puddings, and a sort of custard dish that you adored.

By the time you made it to the capital however, any excitement that had been rising in you had completely disappeared. You were meeting the president himself, and he was going to help you. Or you hoped he would.

The moment you stepped off of the train you were bombarded by a couple of peacekeepers who took you directly to a building where a new group of people took you. You had seen some photos of Capital citizens, but it still shocked you with how they were dressed. Over the top outfits and hair dyed colors you’d never seen before. You expected them to take you somewhere else, but instead they demanded you strip.

“What?! Why?”

“You’re meeting the president, you will look perfect.”

The next two hours were torture. The three complete strangers plucked and waxed your entire body, talking about you as though you were just an object for them to perfect. By the end of you were placed in a simple dress and your makeup and hair were done up all fancy. As you were once again led away you could hear the people who had prepared you giggling amongst themselves and you heard one say something along the lines of ‘he’ll love how she looks.’

You were led to a door and the door was opened for you. “I’m here please.” You didn’t argue and went into the room and the door was closed behind you. A small click was heard but you thought nothing of it as you walked further into the room. It looked like a large dressing room but there was also a bed on one wall.

A large vanity was set up, and glanced into it, shocked by what you said. You’d seen them adding the makeup, but you didn’t think it’d look this fancy. It looked like you were preparing for some sort of large event and your hair matched. It just confused you, why would the president, or anyone for that matter, require you to look this dressed up. And on top of that, the dress didn’t match the fanciness of the rest of you.

“Don’t you look pretty.”

You practically jumped as you quickly stood up and turned around to see Finnick coming out of a bathroom you hadn’t noticed. He was dressed in a black suit, a small white rose pinned to it. His hair was done up in the ‘perfectly messy’ look the capital loved.

Finnick started to walk forward as you took a step back, hitting the vanity. The man continued to approach you until you were trapped between him and the vanity. He reached up to brush his fingers over your cheek.

“You know, I was a little worried when I was pulled away from my duties to be told about you, but it was the best thing to happen to me.”

“I don’t understand…” you whispered.

“The president decided it would be a pefect event for the Capital darling to marry the love of his life live in front of the whole capital.”

All the color drained from your face as you realized what was happening. “No, no I don’t want to do this.”

“Too bad, what do you think is happening right now?” He motioned to the room around him. “I’m going to marry you in front of everyone and then the whole country will know that your mine, and if you know what’s good for you, you will be the perfect little wife for me.” You wanted to cry and Finnick pulled you into a hug. “Don’t cry little bird, we wouldn’t want to ruin your makeup.”

As he hugged you the door opened and a woman stepped in with a large wedding dress in toe. The woman’s appearance was as dressed up as the others you’d seen, but she had a theme. She looked to be a tiger of some kind.

“Here’s your dress.” Finnick announced as he pulled away from you. “Meet Tigeress, she’s the best designer in the country. We worked together to design your dress.”

You couldn’t deny that it was a beautiful dress. It was porcelain white with a deep neckline. The bottom of the dress had gems and seashells attached. As you studied the dress Finnick placed a small kiss to your cheek. “I’ll leave you to get ready, and I’ll see you at the end of the aisle.”

Before you new it you were in the dress, a bouquet of flowers were in your hands and you were walking down a long aisle as hundreds of eyes you didn’t know watched your every step, no idea that your life would end at the end of the walk. You were spaced out almost the entire time, mind barely comprehending what was happening to you. You did end up meeting the president at the reception of your wedding as he wished you a long and happy marriage.

“I’m sure the capital will live to watch your relationship, and family, grow.”

#the hunger games x reader #the hunger games finnick #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #yandere!finnick odair #yandere hunger games

170 notes · View notes

darkestspring · 1 year

Text

i wanted darkness, i wanted him.

summary: once he had laid his eyes on the lady tyrell, how could he ever want for another? You melted his heart, so now you must take responsibility for it. you will be embedded in his bones for all eternity.

word count: a little over 3.4k words. my longest piece!

a/n: alright second attempt at writing this! this has been a work in progress for a while and i’m finally going to finish it! this is more or less a greek gods au with hades! aemond and persephone! tyrell reader. this has been such a fun project, im obsessed with greek mythology so! i recommend listening to persephone by tamino to set the mood, its what i listened to writing this. just a reminder, my requests are still open

warnings: aemond gets a little bit obsessive, slight yandere themes.

taglist: @gulnarsultan @dehnablume (would not let me tag!), @azaleapotterblack (would not let me tag either), @jiminie-08, @weepingwitchofthewest

You had never been outside of highgarden, even as you were now nine and ten name days. It was your duty to stay there and tend to the plants, you had convinced yourself. Maybe you were just scared of what the outside world had to offer.

You despised cocky lords and entitled ladies, you were content here as you tended to your prized garden, you were content to keep your mother and your handmaiden, Arisa, company. Your mother kept you close regardless, sending away men and curious ladies from your company.

You stared down at the blooming flowers with a smile on your face as you watered them. “Grow strong and healthy.” You whispered to them gently.

“My, my. The goddess of spring strikes again.” Your mother teased you, taking the water canister from your hands as you pouted at her, turning away.

It was a silly name, ‘the goddess of spring’, they had even given you a nickname.

Kore. A nickname meaning maiden. A innocent maiden always with her duties and her flowers. In charge of bringing spring to highgarden. It was silly.

“Do not say that, mother.” You remained turned away, conflict haunting you. You didn’t wish to remain Kore forever, you wished to be more. “It is my duty, you have told me many times.”

“What you do is a work of art, my flower.” Your mother spoke softly, hand cupping your cheek as she smiled at you adoringly. “But it is not highgarden that needs you at the moment.” She sounded displeased at that. “I must leave to King’s Landing in the morrow, you are to come with me.”

Your eyes glimmered with curiosity that your mother refused to sate. Why were you coming with her? Why now? What could there be for you?

You were so excited that you could not find it in yourself to sleep. Was the capital as beautiful as highgarden? You dreaded the people that resided there. What if the queen and the princess hated you? Your mother had seemed displeased.

She was displeased, she was very displeased and irritated. She could not refused her cousin, Queen Alicent’s request to meet you but her daughter? Her daughter who brought spring with a brush of her fingertips? Hades resided there, as her son.

Hades is what they called Prince Aemond, rumors spread of how he spread death as easily as he breathed. His dragon, the ancient vhagar, had been responsible for many deaths. He was called the god of the dead, in contrast to her beloved daughter’s goddess of spring title.

Morning had not come easily and both ladies had not slept a single wink, finding easy sleep in the carriage they took, not that either knew.

King’s Landing was pretty, you thought but lacking true beauty. The same beauty you found in flowers and the fruits that grew all around you.

“Cousin.” Queen Alicent had greeted Lady Tyrell with a big smile, her hands linked together. She had never been close with her cousin as she was always here but they needed support more than ever. Alicent was determined to succeed above all foes.

Lady Tyrell did not outwardly react, she only bowed deeply to her cousin, shielding you from view. Prince Aemond wasn’t there, that was one big relief to her. “My Queen.” She greeted, reaching behind to reveal her daughter. “At your request, I brought my daughter.” Her voice made her displeasure noticeable.

Alicent was enamored by you immediately upon seeing you. Your hair was decorated with flowers. You were a soft looking girl. Perfect for her Aemond, he needed soft but her cousin would never allow this, she would have to go over everyone else.

You curtsied lowly for the queen, too nervous to even look at her for fear of messing up as you tucked a strand of dark hair behind your ear. “I am pleased to greet the queen.”

Your voice was even soft, almost melodic. You were a true lady, what a maiden should be.

Her cousin’s long staring irritated the Lady Tyrell who cleared her throat, her hand resting on her daughter’s back. “Will her majesty excuse my daughter, she need not be present for our discussion.”

Alicent knew that if she wanted to, she could have commanded the young tyrell to stay but she needed time to plan, so she agreed with a smile. “There is a beautiful harden here. I am sure you’ll enjoy it.” She smiled at you sweetly and you took that as your queue.

“Wait for me there, my sweet.” Your mother brushed hair from your fade before walking away with Alicent.

You wandered for a while, almost lost before you came upon flowers. It was wonderful. Flowers, and threes and shrubbery. Fruits and greenery. It was peaceful.

You choose a spot under a tree after you had finished gathering flowers and sat so that you could work on making flower crowns.

It had been another exhausting day for Prince Aemond. More training, more studying, more running after his idiotic older brother to ensure that he did not dishonor their mother or sister. All he wished was to for once to have to clean up the messes his older brother made.

He had been walking past the gardens to seek solitude in his private study before a soft voice caught his attention.

He had met many ladies, and yet none had caught his attention this quickly. It was his duty to marry but none dares to approach, the rumors of his nickname the courts gave him spread far and wide.

“-If I could begin to do something that does right by you, I would do about anything, I would even learn how to love.” Your voice rang out softly, your soft pink dress flowing around you as you weaved flowers together absentmindedly.

Aemond had never seen anyone like you. None of the ladies could compare to how you look before his eye. You were like the flowers that existed around you, soft, sweet, beautiful.

Aemond stood there, stunned, as he watched you with a feeling akin to the one he felt with vhagar filling him. Exhilaration, pride, possessiveness. He wanted to hear your voice forever, he wanted to see your eyes on him, he wanted for you to be as obsessed with him as he already was with you.

A twig snapped under his foot and your head snapped over to the sound as a single purple eye connected with warm hazel ones.

You stared at him like a startled deer before you scrambled up, dropping the half finished flower crown as you hid behind the giant apple tree. You held a hand to your chest as your heart raced

Aemond couldn’t help but find you adorable but he quickly tried to calm you down. “I am sorry, I startled you.” His voice was deep as he tried to restrain his excitement. He had found you, the girl he wanted to make his wife. His father had been making a fuss for him to be married, this would solve all problems would it not? “I’m-” he couldn’t tell you his name just yet, not until everything was final. “I’m Hades.”

You peered out from behind the tree to gaze at him with caution. Hades, that name sounded familiar. “I’m Kore.” You had refrained from giving your name out of embarrassment. Your mother would surely scold you if she knew the truth.

“I am deeply sorry for startling you, fair maiden.” Aemond hoped he didn’t sound awkward or too excited. Kore did not fit you at all, would not do justice to just how brightly you shined in his eyes.

He cursed Lucerys Velaryon for taking his eye, for keeping him from having two eyes to gaze at you with, to admire your beauty with. You were truly a goddess among mortals, fitting of every title you could possess.

You suddenly felt childish, hiding behind the tree from him, and you moved yourself out from behind it, your hands clasped together in front of him.

Aemond couldn’t help but admire kore with his darkened purple eye. From your hair, dark and luscious, decorated with all kinds of flowers. To your dress, a pale pink that gave Aemond the sense of innocence, something he couldn’t help but wish to ruin, wish to see your reddened face as he kissed and worshipped you as you deserved.

You felt unnerved as he seemed to study you with a look you couldn’t decipher, it made you all the more nervous.

Aemond had come to realize that he had spent too much of his time with you and sought to retreat so that he might ready his request to his father. “I anticipate our next meeting, my lady.”

No, Kore did not suit you at all. Aemond concluded as he walked away and left you to stare after him with a tilted head and flower crown forgotten.

Just as he could not leave your mind, you did not leave his. Aemond thought of you constantly. He knew very little of you but still you managed to capture him in a way no one else had.

You had chosen to not tell your mother of the encounter, knowing how she worried for you with men. You knew she could be a little overbearing but she only meant well, so you kept it to yourself but Hades was carved into your memories.

You found yourself anticipating your next meeting as you remained in the red keep for longer, at the request of the queen. You spent most of your time in the gardens, hopeful of meeting him once again. To your knowledge, he never came.

But then again, Aemond made sure to stay out of sight when he watched you in your peace in the gardens. He couldn’t bring himself to ruin your peace, so he watched you.

Most would call it stalk but he had no ill intent on you, he wished to make you his bride. He wished to bury himself in your bones and always feel the way he did when he was with you. You brought him peace.

That’s why he brought it up to his father and mother. “Please allow me to marry Lady Tyrell’s daughter.” He stood in front of his parents with his request and refused to show his irritation at their shock.

Aemond was not known for enjoying the companies of ladies as Aegon was renown for. Aemond preferred the quiet library and his practices with Ser Cole too much to do other things.

It did not shock Alicent too much, she had hoped that he would take to her cousin’s daughter but where had he met her and why did such darkness exist in his eyes? She brushed it off easily and smiled at her son. “Of course, you may take her as your bride.”

Viserys nodded along with his wife, still sluggish from his medicine as he leaned into his wife. “Yes, it is time for you to have a wife, my son.”

Aemond was satisfied as his wish was granted and he nodded to his mother before stalking away. Lady Tyrell was notorious for her protectiveness over her daughter, if he was to marry the lady he wanted, it must be done quickly and in secret. He won’t allow this wish to be denied.

Aemond, in the middle of making his way to his room, turned the other way to make his way towards the garden where undoubtedly you were. His rage, always just simmering under the surface in him, seemed to calm once he saw you.

“Oh Hades!” You gasped in surprise as you saw him making his way towards you and you smiled at him, holding a finished flower crown in your hands. “We meet again, at last.” You giggled softly, the sound sending his heart soaring.

“Indeed, we do.” Aemond held his hand out for you and you smiled at his once more before placing a hand in his. Aemond lifting your hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it. “I’m honored to see you once more.”

Warmth filled you at his actions and your cheeks turned red. “I’m happy you’re here.” You reached up with your free hand and placed the flower crown on his head. “It’s a perfect fit!”

Aemond blinked in astonishment for a few seconds before letting go of your hand and humming. “It is.” He knows he should have told you of his intent to marry you, to take you as his wife in the way of Valyria, but instead all he said was. “Come take a ride with me on my dragon.”

You had already known he was a targaryen, it was very obvious to everyone who had eyes but you had never seen a dragon before. They both mesmerized and terrified you. “Will it be safe?” You asked him, furrowing your brows.

“You will always be safe with me.” He assured you and you nodded, still filled with caution as you allowed him to take your hand.

The corridors were empty, not a servant in sight. It confused you, you had always seen them. You brushed it off easily as Aemond guided you to a nearby place by the sea, and there laid a dragon.

Aemond whispered to Vhagar quietly in High Valyrian for a few moments before turning back to you and guiding you forwards. He let go of your hand only to guide it along Vhagar’s scales gently.

“It’s.... warm.” You murmured, taken aback by not only the size but also the warmth. “Your dragon is so... beautiful.”

Vhagar seemed to huff out smoke at that and Aemond laughed quietly. “Yes, she is. Come, I’ll help you up.” Aemond helped you climb onto her back and secured you in tightly before situating himself behind you and securing himself. “Vhagar, Soves!” He commanded and a gasp came for you as she launched herself up.

Dragonstone wasn’t far away, a short flight and when Vhagar landed, Aemond was certain his sister and uncle already knew he was there but he didn’t care about them. All he cared about was marrying his lady.

“How do you feel?” He asked as he helped you down from his dragon. Your feet trembled with pain as you landed on the ground.

“It was exhilarating but it was also a little scary being so high up.” You spoke before looking around. “Where are we?”

“Dragonstone.” He answered you, reaching for you hand. “I must admit to you, I have deceived you somewhat.”

You blinked at him before tilting your head at him in confusion. “Deceived me in what?”

“I didn’t just bring you here to sight see, i brought you here with then intention kf marry you.” Aemond looked at you with the slightest bit of guilt. “You haunt my dreams, even awake you never leave my mind. Since our meeting, I have never felt such peace in my life.” Aemond breathes, like he had just lifted a weight from himself. “Please, I beg of you, have mercy on me.”

His confession struck you like no one ever had and she stared at him with a parted mouth as he sunk down on his knees. “Please do not do that.” The words left your mouth before you could stop them as you reached out for him. “If you plead with me in such ways, how am I to resist the temptation of carving my name into your heart so that you may always remember me.”

In all of you memories, you were always alone, or with only three people by your side. You had never been aloowed to see the world outside your home, you had never been able to have friends or even meet other ladies. No one had ever treated you with the kindness that he had. Of course, you thought it was all too fast, too much but had you not craved for this? To stop being Kore, a sweet maiden, the only child of Lord and Lady Tyrell. Had you not wanted him?

“I will always remember you, how could I ever forget a person like you?” Aemond wanted to press himself against you, he wanted to live in your bones, to be one with you, so that he might always bathe in your gaze.

If he always spoke such words to you, how would you ever cease to love him?

The kindness that he spoke to you with was nonexistent as he spoke to the septon, demanding that he wished to marry you. They had agreed to his wishes as he held your hand.

You didn’t wince as he cut your lip gently with dragonglass. The septon guided you on what to write on Aemond’s forehead and you followed with gentleness. Your blood mingled together and you held bloodied hands together.

“One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.” Aemond murmured to you softly as the ceremony ended with him kissing you, his free hand clasping at your cheek.

Once he pulled away from you, you could identify the look in his eyes. Devotion. Triumph. Darkness.

All your life, maybe this is what you had wanted. Freedom, Darkness, Love. Him.

“Kore never fit you at all, my Persephone.” Aemond had whispered into your hear and you had shivered with delight.

It had been nearly a month after your wedding to Aemond that a letter came addressed to you. It was from your mother, you could tell by the handwriting.

“Darling, what is it?” Aemond sat up from beside you in bed as he sensed your distress.

Three days after the ceremony, you and Aemond had returned to King’s Landing. It had been chaos, Alicent was happy for the both of you but your mother had returned to Highgarden and refused to continue the alliance with the Targaryens and Hightowers until her daughter was returned but you were now married.

“It’s from my mother.” You handed him the letter as you rubbed at your face to lessen your tears. “She had cut off the Hightowers and King’s Landing until I am returned to her.”

Aemond placed the letter on the nightstand before moving closer to you and comforting you. “She will not take my wife from me.” He spoke like a promise as he wrapped his arms around you. “We were up all last night, you need sleep, sweet girl.”

“How can I sleep when things are as they are. My mother believes you kidnapped me and forced me to marry you, she doesn’t know the reality of it.” You frowned at him, pressing your hand to his face, thumb tracing his scar gently. “I have to tell her the truth.”

Bards and Poets have already spun the tale of Aemond forcing his will on you. Persephone’s kidnapping. You grow tired to seeing it. No one knew that you had wanted him too.

“We know the truth, my love.” His words were soft as he closed his eye and leaned into your touch. “We could not live without each other, I went against everyone’s wishes to marry you in Valyrian tradition because I knew your mother would never allow me to have you. You have brought me peace, for that I will never feel guilty.”

Your face was soft as you pondered over how to solve this matter. How to bring peace to everyone involved.

it was a week before your mother came to you as you were sitting in thr same garden you had met Aemond in.

“My sweet girl.” She murmured, tears in her eyes as she hugged you close. “What has that man done to you?”

“Nothing I did not want.” You smiled at her, you were now dressed in black instead of the light colors from before. “Mother, I was not kidnapped by him.”

Your mother did not say anything in return as she sat down, she could tell there was more you wanted to say. She always knew but still, she wanted to cling to you for a little longer.

“I asked him for it. For the blood, for the rust, for the sin. I did not want the pearls that other girls talked about, or the fine marble of palaces, or even the roses in the mouths of servants.” You looked at her with a pleading look, begging her to understand.

“I wanted pomegranates, I wanted darkness, I wanted him.”

You would never regret that.

#house of the dragon x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #hades aemond x persephone tyrell au #aemond targaryen x you #aemond imagine #MY LONGEST PIECE IM SO TIRED

542 notes · View notes

bradtomlovesya · 1 year

Text

Goodbye

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: You only have a couple minutes left and you still have to say goodbye.

Warnings: ANGST! (in capital letters). Mentions of death, mentions of blood, injuries.

w/c: 2.1k +

A/N: This is the most harmful shit I have ever written so read under your own risk. I went to sleep at 3 am for this. I was literally sobbing. I hope you like it and likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciate it. Love ya.

Support and author by sharing their work. (Gif not mine)

You should have listened to Peter when he told you not to go on that road trip alone. You didn't want to put it off. A member of your family was going through a difficult situation and you had to be there for support. Your home was 3 states away from where you lived with Peter so it would be a long road trip, you hated planes so you went by car.

It's too late now to regret it.

"I don't like the idea of you going alone. Let me come with you." Begs your boyfriend as you pack your suitcase in the car.

"You know you can't, you have a thesis to present and I can't keep putting it off. My family needs me, Peter."

"I know they need you. I'm not telling you not to go but please take me with you." He takes your hand.

"I'll be fine." You kiss his lips and get into the car.

The smell of blood now flooded your nostrils and your ears endured a ringing that seemed to have no end.

Breathing burned. Your lungs begged for oxygen but it felt like a burn every time you gave it to them.

You had no reason for time or space. You had no idea why everything looked so blurry. Maybe it's a dream, one of those many bad dreams you've had.

There is a face in front of you. A young man with a bloody forehead and nose. You want to ask him if he's okay but you're too stunned to utter a word.

You know he's saying something by the way his lips are moving but you can't hear it, yet.

Your brow is furrowed. You try to bring yourself back to the here and now. ~Concentrate, y/n.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I'm really sorry." You manage to finally hear what the young man says and pick up his phone to call an ambulance. You don't look at all well. "Can you hear me? Are you okay?" He tries to get your attention.

"I can't move," you mumble. The more you regain consciousness, the more you notice the terrible pain in your head and in your stomach. Right in your right side.

"Yes, yes she's conscious but she's on the tarmac. It's very dark, I can't see anything." The stranger sobs next to you. "You have to come now, please." He mumbles an address you can't make out and focuses his gaze on you. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He moves his free hand towards you but regrets it just before he touches you.

"Hey, take it easy." You try to stay calm for both of us. "What's your name?"

"Tyler" he replies wiping his nose and puts the phone aside as soon as the call cuts off.

"Tyler, it's y/n." You make a great effort to speak. Only one of you can move and that's not you so you do your best to calm him down.

"Are the paramedics coming?" You look him in the eye and feel your side twinge.

"The call went dead." He explains. "The girl on the phone said to stay calm."

"Did you give them our location?" you ask hopefully.

"Yes, I did. They said they would send someone as soon as possible but the call was cut off."

You close your eyes for a moment trying to let the pain subside but it only gets worse. "Try calling them again and stay with whoever answers the phone while they arrive."

Tyler nods and after a few tries manages to connect the call. The girl behind the phone asks him to describe what he sees and that's when you get an idea of how bad it is.

The front window of your car is broken. You were thrown out because of a seatbelt failure. Your leg looks broken, according to Tyler, and worst of all, there's a pool of blood coming out of your right side. That explains the stinging you feel.

"That's not good, is it?" You ask trying to hope. The paramedics will arrive and everything will be fine.

"The girl says to put my hands on your wound and keep them there until the paramedics arrive." Tyler moves his hands and asks permission before placing them on your wound making you cry out in pain. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He repeats over and over.

"It's okay," you try to control your breathing and feel your eyes roll back in your head.

The girl on the other end of the phone, now in a loud voice, asks Tyler not to stop talking to you and he does. You must stay conscious.

You respond a few times to his nervous attempt at conversation, tell him about your life and try to focus on something beyond the pain.

Minutes pass. Many minutes. Forty minutes, to be exact, and still no sign of help.

Your body feels weak and keeping your eyes open becomes increasingly difficult. That's when you remember how far you were from the nearest town or city when you had the accident and reality hits you in the face.

"Tyler?" You put your hands on top of his looking for some warmth. You're cold. it's cold.

"Yes?" he replies almost immediately.

"What does the ambulance girl say?" You ask.

"That we should wait a little longer. Help is on its way," he says with feigned assurance. He tries to convince himself that the paramedics will arrive on time.

"I need your help with something." Tyler nods for you to continue. "Please look for my phone in my car and call Peter. He's my boyfriend." You ask. Now you understand you're on borrowed time.

"No, the girl said my hands are the only thing that stops the bleeding long enough for help to arrive. I'm not moving." He denies.

"Please." You beg, feeling an immense urge to cry but you're too weak to do so. "We're in the middle of nowhere and, look at me, I don't have much time left."

"No, please. They're going to come and you're going to be fine." he cries again inconsolably. He knows you're right.

"Tyler, please," you plead with every ounce of strength you have left. "I don't want to leave without saying goodbye."

The young man hesitates, not wanting to take his hands away and then regret it. But he feels so guilty about the accident that he agrees and reaches for your phone.

One ring, two rings, on the third ring, Peter answers the call. Tyler puts the speakerphone on and puts his hands back on your side.

"Love, are you coming back? Did you stop for lunch?" Peter asks through the speaker.

"Peter..." you smile sadly at the sound of his voice and feel tears well up in your eyes.

"Is everything alright? You don't sound so good." The concern in his voice is noticeable.

"Peter, I had an accident on the way home. You get straight to the point, you have no time to waste. "It doesn't look very-" you cut off your coughing breath and the metallic taste of blood floods your mouth. "It doesn't look good for me."

"Wh-what?" you hear her breathing hitch. "Where are you? I'll come right away. Tell me where you are," he asks.

"I'm far away, Pete," you murmur and close your eyes to rest for a moment, just a moment. "I don't have much time left."

"What about the paramedics? Are you alone? I'll call 911," you hear the keys on the phone in your shared flat click and you open your eyes again.

"I'm with Tyler, he was in the accident with me and he's looking after me" you smile weakly at him. "But we're so far away from everything, love. I don't want to waste my last minutes talking about how far away the paramedics are." You plead.

"Don't say that, please. You're going to be fine" He reasons as fast as he can. He's still processing the information.

"I love you, Peter Parker. I love you with every fiber in my body." You struggle to hold on a little longer. Just a few more minutes, please.

Peter walks out into the street and gets into a taxi.

"I'll track your phone. I'm going to find you. You're not going to die, okay?" You hear his voice crack.

"Remember that summer at the beach when we saw that family playing ball?" You change the subject.

"Y/n..." tries to stop you from speaking but you continue.

"You said you wanted a family as happy as that." You smile at the memory. "A wedding, two or three kids, a little house in the suburbs, a job from home so you could spend time with the kids, and a Golden Retriever for a pet." You feel tears running down your cheeks. "I would have loved to have been able to give you all that, it was my dream too."

"We will. We will, just-" he takes a big breath of air so you he doesn't collapse in the taxi. "Hang in there."

Peter would have preferred to swing but there are no buildings outside the city and he would have had to hang up the call. He wasn't going to hang it up for the world.

"I'm sorry I argued with you about that new TV. I love our movie Fridays." You admit. "It wasn't an unnecessary expense."

"I know. I bought it for you," he sobs. This can't be the end.

"Little May and little Ben would have loved movie Fridays too. Especially since their dad would have made the richest and weirdest popcorn combinations." You laugh before coughing again and spitting up blood.

"May and Ben are the best names" he laughs sadly. "Y/n please, I can't lose you too. You're all I have left" you hear him crying on the other end of the phone. It's clear he's not trying to control himself anymore.

"I'll love you even when I'm gone" you whisper and leave your eyes closed for a longer period of time.

"Please open your eyes, y/n" Tyler moves your face with one of his hands and you open your eyes again.

"Listen to him, don't close your eyes," your boyfriend denies into the phone. He has never felt so helpless in his entire life.

"I'm tired" you fix your blurred gaze on the phone lying on the tarmac next to you.

"You can't leave, not like this" he wipes away his tears and tries to control his breathing but it's unavoidable. "I have to marry you..." he pleads.

"If you want me to marry you you have to ask me first" you joke.

"Will you marry me?" Peter asks between sobs as he thinks about the box with a ring hidden in his old Spiderman uniforms. He was going to ask you very soon, he didn't expect it to be like this.

"Yes and a thousand times yes," you smile with your eyes closed but open them again to look at Tyler. "Did you hear that, Tyler? I'm getting married." You say with as much excitement as you can muster. "You're invited to the wedding." You mumble closing your eyes again.

They stay open too little time, they're too heavy.

"You can take the ring out of your uniform box now," you mutter lower and lower.

"Did you know that?" your boyfriend asks in surprise.

"I know all about it, my super hero" your breathing slows down.

Peter looks at his phone. There are miles between you. He won't make it in time.

"No, you're the super hero. It's always been you," he presses the phone to his ear. "I love you, Y/n y/l/n."

"I love you too, Peter," you murmur almost inaudibly. "Can I ask you something?" You use the last of your strength to speak a little louder.

"Whatever" Parker nods quickly.

"Promise me that you won't stop looking for love and that you'll try to be happy even if it's not with me." You say earnestly.

"I can't do-" you stop him before he says anything else.

"Promise me, Peter. Please promise me. I have to hear you say it."

Peter swallows hard. He doesn't want to do anything you just said. How could he be happy without you? But nevertheless, he responds.

"I promise," he says before bursting into tears again.

This can't be goodbye.

You're exhausted, you don't think you can keep your eyes open for much longer. A few seconds pass and all you hear is Peter's sobs on the other end of the line.

"Y/n?" he asks but you don't answer. You vaguely hear him but the voice is getting further and further away. "No no no no, y/n answer. Please" exclaims your boyfriend. "Don't go" he clenches the phone tightly in his hand.

Endless memories flash through your mind. You are glad that they are happy for the most part.

Is this what it feels like to die? At least you were able to say Goodbye.

|°|°|°|°|°|

Peter Parker Tags:

@raajali3 @fangirling-galore @powerpuffluuvv @itszulli @hallecarey1 @xoxokiaraaxoxo @kaitieskidmore1 @lnmp89 @pure-a-tea @vixparker @army24--7 @spiderydreams00 @my-name-duh @nani-2305 @mochimm @ietss @prancerrparkerr @Lynnzilla3000 @hpsgirlrw @Lynnzilla3000 @hollandweather

Let me know if you want to be added/removed.

544 notes · View notes

juneknight · 11 months

Text

Audible || 1

Part One | Part Two

Request: "Steven Grant reads erotica and Reader asks him to read aloud to her".

Immersivity: Steven Grant/fem!reader. Reader is nameless and undescribed, though her figure is limited by wearing one of Steven's shirts, and she works and undescribed job which she hates. If there is any detail which hinders your immersive experience, please feel free to bring it to my attention.

Part 1

There is no part of a bad day that Steven couldn’t make better.

When you finally return to the flat you share with him and his headmates, you have no small list of ailments and complaints. Your feet ache, and your head as well. The clothes you wear to work are the last sort that you find comfortable, and you have been daydreaming about stripping them off—and perhaps slipping into one of Steven’s shirts which are always so worn and soft—since the moment you stepped out of the apartment building and nearly collided with the broom and brush seller who always gives you the eye.

All day, you have been wilting beneath capitalism’s shadow, doing a job that you have no passion for and which only serves to make other people more money than you will likely ever see, but it all melts away at the sight of Steven curled up in the bed you share together, his nose in a book.

He glances up at the sound of the front door opening and closes the book so hastily that its cover makes a little sound as it snaps shut. Beneath the covers, he is shirtless. If his golden skin seems more flushed than usual, the observation is lost under your own relief at the very sight of him. Straightaway, he knows that your day has been rough, sees it in the bow of your shoulders, the shadows beneath your eyes. He reaches back without looking and sets his book amongst a sea of others on the headboard.

“Oh, love. A rough one?”

“It’s better now,” you say, already stepping out of your shoes and stripping off your work clothes. The sight of him so cozy in bed has reminded you of your own exhaustion which now tugs heavily at your eyelids. Steven watches you for a moment, his gaze warm and fond but not lustful, before tossing back the covers to reveal he is down to only his boxers. You amend: “Better now that it’s over.”

“Sometimes, that’s the only good thing about a day, isn’t it?” Steven says, standing and going to the dresser. “That it ends, and that we never have to live it again. Underwear, love?”

“Yes please; any pair. A shirt of yours, too, if you’ve got any clean.”

Steven glances towards the mirror—there are many of them around the flat these days, convenient for Marc and Jake (or Steven, when he is not fronting) to be present in. Steven clicks his tongue at whatever his reflection says, moving to another drawer. “It’s my night, mate,” he reminds his reflection. “My night, my shirt.”

“Someone complaining?” you wonder with a yawn, catching Steven’s shirt as he tosses it to you.

“You know how Marc gets, always wanting you to wear his clothes. Possessive bloke.”

“An easy way to solve that would be to share a wardrobe,” you tease, slipping into the shirt. You lift the collar, inhaling its clean scent which is so distinctly Steven’s. You tug on some panties too, always afraid that the one night you sleep without them will be the one that the apartment building catches fire. If the brushes and brooms man thinks you’re about to stand out on the London street in front of him and who else without anything on, he’s in for a disappointment.

“I don’t think we could reconcile our preferences, honestly. Dunno why he keeps trying to slick our hair back when we all know that you go mad for the curls,” Steven says, watching as you slip beneath the covers and into the warm spot his body left behind. The only thing better than seeing you nestle beneath the sheets is joining you—which Steven promptly does, opening his arm so that you can rest flush against his side, your head on his chest. He rests his hand on the curve of your hip, stroking the exposed skin between your panties and his shirt with a calloused thumb. “You rest, love. If you need anything, I’m your man.”

“Would you read to me?” you murmur sleepily. “I love the sound of your voice.”

“It’s the accent, isn’t it?” he teases. You hear him swallow. “Sure—let me grab a book. Any preference?”

“Whatever you were reading when I came in; you don’t need to start something new on my account.”

To his benefit, Steven is quick to quip: “But I’m a few chapters in, you’ll have no idea what’s going on!”

“Don’t care,” you say through another yawn. “Just listening to your voice.”

“I…alright. Yeah,” he says. The strange reluctance in his voice is lost on you. You feel him stretch, hand searching the headboard. “I’ll have to sit up, love. That alright?”

You hum in the affirmative, and as soon as he has taken his position with his back braced against the headboard, you are laying your head in his lap, just far enough away for him to be able to comfortably hold the book. You hear the rustle of pages as he finds his spot, having put up the book with such haste at your entrance that he had forgotten to mark his place.

He begins to read:

“In the morning, we were all roughly awakened by the servants opening the curtains, letting in a stream of sunlight which reminded me painfully of my home. I had barely slept a wink, too unused to the strange palace around me and the coarse, lumpy straw mattresses that we were made to sleep on. Terror kept away the exhaustion, though nothing could help the way my temples ached from the long night. The others seemed just as terrified as I was: here and there, a few girls my age or younger clinged to each other, tears wetting their cheeks. Even the men looked uncertain. Their fear comforted me; at least I was not so singular!”

The soothing lilt of Steven’s voice melts away your headache. Your eyes shut, one hand resting on his knee as you drift into a half-sleep, lulled by the timber of his voice, the cadence of his speech. Sometimes, sentences would break through the fog of your relaxation, registering dimly in your mind.

“...still not used to the smell of the sea, salt so thick in the air that I could taste it on my tongue. There was some familiarity yet in this for me, as I had been quite used to servants washing and tending to me back home, though never so roughly. By the time Evelyn was finished, I felt that she must have scrubbed me pink…braids only made the aching in my head worse. I hated to have my hair drawn back, to not even be able to hide behind its curtain…the Prince himself. I was sure that I was trembling with fear, my knees unsteady. I hoped that the others had appeared as nervous as I, though none of them had half the reasons I did!...ah…yada yada yada…we shared a nice peaceful sleep together, though the Prince stole all the covers like the sod he likely was—”

Your eyes open, blinking tiredly. “A—sod? Does it say that?

“Of course it does.”

“It does not; you’re making it up!”

“That is a slanderous accusation which wounds me greatly—”

“Then you are skipping parts. You said yada yada yada—”

“That’s, well, it’s what the book says, love, I surely didn’t write it—”

Now your interest has peaked, pushing the veil of exhaustion back from your eyes. Lifting your head, you reach for the book, tilting it towards you just an inch: “Show me, then—”

“Alright, alright,” he says, pressing the book flush to his bare chest to make it impossible for you to see even a single word. Now you notice that his face seems distinctly more flushed than usual, a nervousness in his eyes. “I am skipping parts. Just the boring ones, though.”

“Is that how you usually read books?” you ask, brow furrowing. “You skip the boring bits? Aren’t you the man who once chastised a complete stranger in a book store when you caught him reading the last page of a book before buying it?”

“That is a crime,” he says firmly. “This is completely different. I’m skipping them in order, aren’t I? I just…oh alright. I just didn’t think that this was a novel you would…ah…enjoy?”

“Oh my god,” you say. “It’s pornography, isn’t it?”

“It’s called erotica, thank you very much!”

It is a good thing that Steven does not share the uppermost floor of the apartment complex with anyone else, because your cackle might have been loud enough to garner complaints. His shoulders relax a little at your giggles. He shuts the book, a finger holding his place this time, and gently taps it against your forehead.

“Alright, that’s enough out of you. I hear enough about it from those two in my head. Besides—,” Steven says, sniffing indignantly. “—I read them for the plots.”

“And what’s the plot of this one?”

“Do you really care to know, or do you only wish to continue having a laugh?”

You school your face into a one that is appropriately serious. You hadn’t truly meant to make him feel insecure—which he was, judging by the way he had turned his eyes back to the cover of the book, his brow wrinkled and lips downturned in an expression that was remarkably like Marc. Sitting up, you prop your tired body beside him, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“I’m sorry. There’s nothing wrong with smut. I’ve read plenty in my time—stories that are likely far less tasteful than this one. Tell me what it’s about,” you say, your sentence pitching up at the end and turning your statement into a gentle question which he could refuse if he was truly sore.

But Steven could not ever remain sore with you.

“Well,” he says, opening the book hesitantly. “It is about a spoiled princess. Outlaws from another kingdom steal her away to bring her to their royalty, hoping for a pardon from their own crimes. But along the way, her identity is somehow switched round with another hostage. Now everyone thinks she’s a prisoner meant to be a pleasure servant and serve the lords and ladies of this other kingdom.”

“No!”

“Yes!” Steven says, eyes lighting up at your enthusiasm. “But it gets worse, see? Because when they all arrive at the foreign palace, the girl mistaken to be the Princess is offered up to the King, and they kill her.”

You frown. “Oh, that’s quite dark.”

“Yes, well the king is a right bastard, isn’t he? But now the Princess is terrified to reveal who she truly is to anyone, convinced she will be killed as well. So she must throw herself whole-heartedly into serving the Prince’s every pleasure while she plots her escape. There is politics and intrigue and quite a bit of misogyny which I am hoping to see punished in the second half—”

“You should read it to me,” you murmur, feeling a trickle of warmth in the pit of your belly. Thinking about Steven reading filthy novels while you were at work had made your heart stutter unexpectedly. Had he been hard when you came in? Did he read things like this and touch himself? The thought of hearing Steven’s low, accented voice reading explicit sex made your breath catch. You clear your throat. “You know…for the plots.”

“The plots,” Steven says, drawing the syllables out slowly. “Right…I—are you sure, love? It’s quite naughty, isn’t it? And some of it is downright morally questionable.”

“I’m sure. Go on, no need to skip over the naughty bits on my behalf. It sounds like you were just getting to the good parts.”

Steven snorts softly. His gaze when he looks up at you from the book is sly and knowing. He sometimes can be shy and awkward, unpracticed in the ways of relationships and love and sex, but Steven was downright clever. There was no way he wouldn’t pick up on your eagerness, nor the true reason for it. And it sure wasn’t the plots. Shifting to make himself comfortable, he glances to you once more for your assent before cracking open the book and searching for his place.

Next Part

#steven grant x reader

280 notes · View notes

chaifootsteps · 5 months

Note

You know how i cope with the fact that Helluva Boss is "wasted potential: the show"? By gaslighting myself into tinking thats not an actual cartoon, but a fanfic of one better adult cartoon from another universe:

In some other paralel universe, there is an aclaimed adult Cartoon that aired in adult swim from the early 2000's, called "Helluva Job", wich follows the wacky adventures or 4 demons, all very different in personalities and have a hard time working together, triying to get out of their miserable life as the lowest class of demons in hell by working on killing humans in exchange of money from those who commision them those murders.

Every episode its about them trying to get their new target, a premise thats kinda repetitive but the show manages to make it fresh avaery episode with its creativity.

It had a wacky absurd humor that doesnt take itself seriously, sometimes based on very silly and cartoony things happening to the protagonists, it also had a very, VERY dark humor that would make kinda fucked out jokes about taboo themes (kinda like drawn together), wich made many people belive that the show "didnt age well" despite still being hilarous. It also had some sexual humor, but it was very limited and always with clever jokes that arent just the characters screaming the names of genitals.

Robo-Fizz, The Cherubs and Verosika are some of the recurring villains that where remembered for having neat designs very charismatic personalities. Even the people that never saw the show know them and loves them.

The show was also know for having a lot of criticism of capitalism and rich people hidden behind clever dark humor, that didnt distract from the sillines of its show.

Stolas is just a recurring joke of "that one creepy old man Blitzo sleep with because he is rich and has to do it to keep his job", he never gets more than 4 minutes on screen and its always him being an steriotypical rich asshole who abuses his power and makes gross comments to Blitzo (and he is very classist and racist). Stella is just the woman thats married to him and she tries to be a decent wife, but she is clearly annoyed with him and clearly she just waiting for him to ask divorce.

Stolas also dies in the finale of the show when a metor falls over him, Blitzo celebrates this in the most childish and exagerated (but also extremely funny) way possible.

The art style was like a combination between Clone High and Dexter's laboratory, with the use of exagerated shapes to form its cgaracters. And the animation was just decent, but its praised over the character designs, wich are simple yet efective and creative

The show got 2 seasons and those were enough, it was remembered as one of the darkerst yet funniest cartoons that ever aired on adult swim, and how people still rewatching it years later.

Meanwhile, Vivziepop is some popular artist in the fandom of that show thats know because, for some reason, she got obsessed with Stolas fucking Blitzo, and she insist that their relationship is the most beautiful thing ever, and hates Stella for some headcanons she created about her.

She wrote the know fanfic "Helluva Boss" wich is basically her mischaracterising every character into becoming this really boring, flavourless version of themselves and get reducted to one aspect of their personality. And her trying to gaslight us into thinking that Blitzo and Stola's relationship was some misunderstood tragic wholesome romance, because "Stolas actually loved him!". Almost everyone in the fandom makes fun of this fanfic.

Extremely valid, Anon. To get by in this bitch of a world, sometimes you've just got to gaslight yourself a little.

#Anonymous #helluvs boss mention #actual blog post

39 notes · View notes

foggymartin · 7 months

Text

It's always awful to see pretentious twats on the news, but especially when they talk about things they've had no experience in. Seeing upper class, Christian men go on and on about how we should make Britian a "Christian" place again is out of this world. Seeing upper class (and let's be real, probably Christian) men talk about how people in poverty should just *work in these shitty jobs provided by our fucked government and earn minimum wage* because what are they going to do? They basically don't have a choice. Seeing *upper class christian men* talk about women's rights, gay peoples rights, people of colours rights, like it's some kind of epic tale in a book. They have no fucking idea what they're talking about, for any of it.

Christianity is a fucked religion (controversial, I know) with again, pretentious twats speaking the "words of God" which are a load of shit. Most of the time it's used as an excuse to be a homophobe or a sexist. Okay, David, why don't we follow every single rule ever put into that musty book? Why don't we tell left handed people they're going to hell? Or tell people who are mean that they're going down there? Why is it gay people? Correct me if I'm wrong, the Bible stated "man must not sleep with *boy*" and not "man must not sleep with man." You know, because pedophila feels like more of a crime then *gay people.* just a hunch. Commenting "Jesus loves you" or "find god" on any post that is someone different. An alternative person. It's so stupid. Why do you care? Follow your little religion and fucking leave us alone.

Poverty is a huge problem across the ENTIRE world, and I'm sure that speaks in volumes about how fucked up of a world we are. The fact that these people who are fighting to survive every day are being told to "just work" by people who never had to work a day in their life for shit is infuriating. Upper class people in general irritate me. I think it's the arrogance that they have. They're a bit.. Snobbish, you know? Even from just teenage girls being naive and laughing at poorer kids for not having an iPhone, to rich adults looking down on these people with such disgust. Seriously viewing these human beings as less then their pretty little £1000 poodle. What the fuck. The government taxes people - taxes the poor people who literally can't afford it if they want to eat. And just the normal people. Why not tax the rich more? People say "oh, we do tax them." Not as much? Do they need all that money? Do they really? Why can't they lend some of that "well earned" (passed down from generations) money to people who need it. I'm sure they'll live.

People on the news talk about women and gay people like they're a shit stain on a wall, but I'm sure the stain would get better rights. It's debates about women's rights to give birth, women's rights to wear what they please, women's rights to turn down a man. Literally fucking anything a woman does is shit on by society. Gay people are debated - should being trans be allowed? Is being gay a sin? Hmm, such tricky questions... Why not just let them live? People point out "oh, that school shooter was trans" or "that rapist was gay" not to say that school shootings or rape cases are bad, no no, just to shit on the LGBTQ community. Nobody points out that a school shooter was a white man. Why don't we just say "that school shooter was a horrible person who deserves to die" and not focus on the community they were a part of? Maybe mourn the lives lost instead of rejoice in the fact that you've got new things to hate the LGBTQ community for.

What a pleasant world we live in, huh? I could go on more, but I wont. I'll probably spiral into a ton of stuff about capitalism and why it should be torn to the ground.

Jesus Christ, I wrote more than intended. Happy reading

#politics #anti capitalism #anarchism #poverty #punk #uk politics #government #corrupt government #corrupt cops #christianity #anti christianity #homophobia #anti homophobia #feminism #right wing arseholes

49 notes · View notes

frownyalfred · 2 years

Note

Hi, I'm sorry to bother but do you know about this?

https://mobile.twitter.com/hitthebookspost/status/1557621677508513792

If you don't, I hope you can read this, and maybe you can repost about this...

Again I'm sorry to bother but this woman is like Umbridge in Harry Potter. Really. It's terrified.

Yes, I've seen that. I've been pondering how to talk about this, as I've seen other authors/blogs bring it up.

It's no secret that I love and use ao3. I've been on fanfiction.net, LiveJournal, Dreamwidth, etc etc in my time. I've seen fanfiction purges and policing, and it's almost always to users' detriment.

There are many topics and stories I don't personally agree with. I know the adage "don't like don't read" is a bit overused, but I stand by it. Personally, I hate reading stories about underage sex/abuse. It grosses me out. I stay away from stories about graphic sexual assault and rape; it triggers me.

But that doesn't mean I want those stories wiped off the internet. And who am I to really draw that moral line, anyway? If, say, I purge ao3 of pedophilia and any underage sex, will non-con and dub-con be on the chopping block next? Who decides that?

Proponents of "curation" on fanfiction sites make a similar, parallel "slippery slope" argument. They claim that easy and visible access to topics like child abuse or incest will lead to inappropriate behavior or beliefs in real life. It will legitimize these topics, and encourage such actions.

I don't think I need to tell most people that reading about something doesn't mean you like it, endorse it, or want to perform it in real life. Nobody ever asks men who read American Psycho if they maybe shouldn't have, in case they start killing women left and right. Just because I read a story where siblings sleep together (hello, Game of Thrones?) doesn't mean I want that to happen in real life!

The candidate referred to in the tweet seems to be not so subtly endorsing fandom censorship. You can read her interview at the link above, and it's chilling. She seems indifferent to the nuances of these discussions, ones we've been having for years on tumblr and in reaction to fandom purges.

Fanfiction is censored, corralled and contained when it looks bad for owners, companies, and sites. When advertising interests hesitate to put their ads next to graphic smut, capitalism reacts accordingly. IOS hides things on tumblr mobile because it's about money.

And that's exactly what ao3 was created to avoid. It is user-owned and operated. It is literally -- literally -- an archive of our own.

I support the hell out of ao3, and I always reblog posts encouraging others to do so if possible. We finally have a goddamned "safe space" for any kind of fiction under the sun -- any -- and we're risking it over a candidate who appeals to misinformed, underinformed moralism.

I can't blame new fandom members for getting caught up in it. Especially teenagers. They're still figuring out where they personally draw the line. Of course they're clumsy, and apply that filter to everyone around them. It's human nature.

I encourage every reader and non-reader alike to consider where their opposition to certain topics and stories stems from. Is it personal? Moral? If this story was a book at a library, would you ask the librarian to toss it in the shredder? Or would you simply put it down and walk away?

In the United States, even atheists and non-Christians are still unconsciously performing Christian, moralistic values. We do things for the sake of the "children" that make very little, logical impact on perceived ills. We are all (even me, and I'm Jewish) subject to this line of thinking, even if we reject it.

My opinion at the end of the day is that well-tagged, well-described, age-gated content should be allowed to exist on ao3 with very few, if any, limitations. If you don't like the tags -- great! The system worked! Read something else.

"Don't like, don't read" needs an update. In my mind, I've been calling it "bag it, tag it, don't wag it" which I know is silly, but it covers all the bases. Put your content in the correct category (explicit, etc) tag it correctly (sexual assault, etc) and don't shame others for what they choose to consume.

Anyway. If you're a member of ao3 (donated 10$ or more in the last year) you're eligible to vote in the board elections. I highly encourage you to do so. You can learn more about the discourse at the link above, or at ao3's elections page.

#whew #that was a bit of a rant #rant #thoughts #ao3 #archive of our own #ao3 elections #fic #fic things #fandom #fanfiction #fanfic #ffnet #fanfiction.net #censorship

429 notes · View notes

virusinfected-memes · 1 year

Text

TUMBLR TEXT POST SENTENCE STARTERS, PT. 2 ;

75 starters. CW: blood mention, cussing, death. Starters come from various text posts floating around Tumblr. The only thing changed for this post was adding capitalization and punctuation. Feel free to change words and pronouns as needed! [PART 1]

“Academia is cool and sexy until I’m expected to work.”

“An anime with more than a hundred episodes is a bigger commitment than marriage.”

“Anyone who believes all water tastes the same is no acquaintance of mine.”

“Anyway, that’s every reported eyewitness account of Mothman through ‘68, and that’s just in West Virginia! Haha, but enough about me. Let’s hear about your top five cryptids!”

“Aside from being the worst person alive, I am literally perfect.”

“At the end of the day, I’m just a girl who loves her bed.”

“Being equally obsessed with each other sounds hot to me.”

“Being good doesn’t get you anything.”

“Be the worst you can be.”

“But do aliens believe in me?”

“Don’t let anyone dehumanize you. Dehumanize yourself. Be the creeping eldritch horror you’ve always longed to be. Rain furious vengeance down upon those who would unmake you.”

“Do something today that would’ve gotten you burnt at the stake four hundred years ago.”

“Do you ever just want someone to come over and sit on the floor with you for a few hours?”

“Do you ever wanna listen to music, but every song is just not the right song?

“Feeling safe around someone’s energy is a different kind of intimacy.”

“Flirting is childish. We’re grown. Just tell the person you like that you see God in their eyes.”

“Friendly reminder that the age of technology is coming to an end and a new age of blood magic and dark rituals will take its place.”

“Friendship is temporary. Blood pacts are forever.”

“Girls don’t want boys. Girls want to live in a Victorian estate and be the most feared widow in the village.”

“Half of me is a hopeless romantic and the other half of me is, well, an asshole.”

“Having a body causes me so much agony. I wish I was just a floating entity with no physical form.”

“How do I overthink so much and still make the wrong decision?”

““I can fix him!” You can’t even fix your sleep schedule, bestie.”

“I don’t care if your body is a temple. Call me when it’s been closed down and taken over by Spirit Halloween.”

“I don’t know about soulmates, but those people who eat parts of the food or candy that you don’t like and you do the same for them... We’ve lived a hundred lifetimes together, probably.”

“I don’t think we can romanticize our way out of this one, boys.”

“If you see me in the streets, just know that my mind is in the void. I’m physically alive, but mentally checked out.”

“I guess we all learned a valuable lesson. Except for me. I wasn’t paying attention and was asleep for most of the time.”

“I hate when people ask what I would do in their situation because nine times out of ten, I would literally never be in that situation in the first place.”

“I hope manners is the next cool trend.”

“I just love sleep so much. Like, you just close your eyes and you’re gone, bitch. Brain logged the fuck off. Powerful.”

“I just realized there’s, like, a hundred new Pokémon coming this year, give or take, and I have to decide what personal memories and details about friends to forget in order to make room for them all.”

“I like my women like I like my woods. Haunted and could kill me at any moment.”

“I like to fuck around and waste time at least six to ten hours a day, and let me tell you, that puts some pressure on your schedule. You have no idea how busy I am.”

“I love to learn. Unfortunately, my brain doesn’t like to remember.”

“I love when I ‘make a mental note’ of something. It’s gone within twenty seconds.”

“I’m not a religious person, but I do sometimes think God made you for me.”

“I’m not playing hard to get. I genuinely don’t know how to talk.”

“I’m wearing dark glasses today because I’m seeing the future, and the future is looking very bright.”

“I think it’s so neat that everyone develops their own unique handwriting even though we’re all taught to write our letters the same way. Really, it’s so cute.”

“I think making sense is optional. Sometimes I just be talking.”

“I think the meaning of life is eating good food in the company of people you love.”

“It’s because I’m pretty, that’s why I have problems.”

“It’s crazy how I’m just some person.”

"It seems you are in love with your computer.”

“It’s not rude to interrupt someone to point out a dog. It’s actually more polite because then they don’t miss out on the dog.”

“I will never elaborate because I have no idea what I just said.”

“Live, laugh, love? Nah. Languish, lament, lay down.”

“Michael Myers taught me a valuable life lesson. Don’t worry about how fast everyone around you is moving. If you’re determined, just move at your own pace and you’ll kill shit every time. Thanks, Mike.”

“Moving to the forest to eat leaves and lie in the dirt. Insurance companies can’t deny me this.”

“Okay, bored of being alone now. Ready to get married.”

“Okay, hear me out... What if—now bear with me—we held hands? Maybe even kiss a little? Hugs would be nice—”

“People keep posting ‘what’s REALLY in your food’ articles like I’m gonna stop eating whatever it’s about. Listen, death is coming. Death is coming. Pass me a hot dog.”

“People who fall asleep right away freak me out. Don’t you bitches have thoughts?”

“Really starting to understand old people these days. I love letters. Love packages. Terrified of my email inbox.”

“Someone take me out. Either in the assassination way or in the date way.”

“Sorry for being so sexy and having the best taste in literature. As if I asked for it.”

“Sorry I called you a fucking idiot. I was trying to flirt.”

“So what if I love you? Shut up.”

“The fact that I have to be in the ‘right headspace’ to do even the simplest tasks is absolutely humiliating.”

“The only difference between me and a medieval peasant is that I can make a Spotify playlist to express my feelings.”

“The only reason I haven’t gone insane is because I romanticize everything.”

“There should be a dating app where you talk to people who borrowed the same books from the library.”

“There’s something inherently holy about kitchens.”

“Tired of being a person. Would much rather be an unidentifiable and nebulous entity that lives in the woods and may or may not be an omen of misfortune to come.”

“Wanna haunt the neighborhood with me tonight?”

“Well, I used to be attracted to people, but now I’m exclusively attracted to abstract art and the concept of death.”

“What is the logic behind naps leaving you with a weird taste in your mouth? I wasn’t eating, I was sleeping. It’s the spiders, isn’t it?”

“Winnie the Pooh didn’t rock crop tops our whole childhood to watch us become unconfident about our bodies.”

“Yes, I’m dramatic! What did you expect? I read classic literature for fun.”

“You’d look prettier under six feet of dirt.”

“You don’t always need to talk. Like, it’s good to shut the fuck up sometimes. I love not talking.”

“You gotta walk into rooms like God sent you.”

“You’re beautiful, but you’re empty. No one could die for you.”

“You wanna know what’s annoying me right now? It’s me. I am annoying the goddamn shit out of myself.”

#ask meme #inbox meme #roleplay meme #rp meme #rp sentence starters #sentence starters #tumblr #* mine

400 notes · View notes

yeonzzzn · 7 months

Text

💔i hate that i want you: jungkook x reader | losing him | warnings: heart break

i’m always tired but never of you…

[1.9k words] ☆ [pls do not repost]

losing him was probably the hardest thing you’ve ever had to deal with.

it’s been months but the smell of his cologne still filled the air of the apartment you both once shared.

the shirt he left behind still barely smelled like his skin, you refusing to wash it being scared it’ll lose its scent.

you missed him. more than you wanted to admit or even speak out loud.

you hated the fact of you missing him. you hate that you find yourself not being able to sleep because you aren’t wrapped in his arms.

you hate that you still reach for his coffee cup every single damned morning ready to pure it full of his favorite but only to be disappointed of not feeling the glass with your fingertips in the cabinet.

you hate catching yourself staring off into space at the chair he once sat at while twirling your fork around on the plate of food not being able to eat.

you hate him. hate with a capital H A T E. but yet you still miss every part of him.

even the annoying parts, like how every morning he’d roll over and tickle you until you woke up, how he’d tease you over how much of a nerd you were for astronomy, how he’d leave his dirty dishes around the apartment in random places, how poorly he’d fold the towels fresh out of the dryer. the list goes on.

driving alone was one of the hardest parts to deal with. you missed him in your front seat always messing with the radio or using the aux to play his own music. missed how he’d rest his hand on your thigh and gently rub his thumb against your skin and sing along to every song that blasted through the speakers.

but now it’s you and an empty front seat.

you missed riding with him in his car, he’d always let you Bluetooth your phone to the radio(his car obviously being a better model than yours, because yuck using an aux s u c k s) and playing all your favorite songs. he’d laugh at you singing off key and still say you had a beautiful singing voice. you missed holding his hand while he drove and how every once in a while he’d lift your hands and connect his lips to the top of your hand, his eyes not leaving the road.

but now your spot in his front seat is empty, or so you hoped.

your best friend has tried to talk you into leaving the apartment and moving back home with your parents, but you always refused.

“come on y/n!” your best friend groaned slapping her hands to her thighs, “you can’t go on like this! i’m sure your parents would love to take you back in! you can even stay with me if it’s a must!”

you’d just continue to shake your head in refusal, “I can’t just leave…”

you’ve tried looking for other apartments, but the thought of you even leaving this one killed you. you wanted to leave, but knew you couldn’t.

sometimes you sit around and wonder if he ever misses you as much as you miss him.

if he misses waking up to you, misses coming home to you every night after long days of working. misses the endless nights of crying together over bad days. misses holding you tightly against him. miss the silly jokes and chasing you around the apartment. the nights of endless lust and your voice calling out his name while pressing him closer to your bare body. the warm morning showers and washing each others hair and purposely washing each other’s hair wrong to irritate the other. the nights of binge-watching all the harry potter movies and Marvel films.

god knows how much you hate yourself for missing all those moments and hoping that he missed them too.

it’s been so long since you’ve last heard his voice, but you can remember it as clear as day.

you remember the sadness in his voice, the tears that filled his eyes, the trembling of his hands as he held yours for the last time.

you remember hearing the last words he spoke to you and remember feeling your heart break into pieces.

“it just…won’t work y/n,” he released his hands from yours, breaking eye contact and staring off at the fully packed boxes filled with his things, “it hurts me, trust me..but this is for the best.”

you clenched your shirt remembering the painful memory. “I hate him I hate him I hate him.”

you used to take late night walks with him when you both couldn’t sleep, it’s how you two met actually.

the college dorms were too noisy one friday night, keeping you from sleep and sleep from you.

pissed and irritated you changed into your leggings and throwing your favorite hoodie on and stepping into your white converse then quickly bouncing out of your dorm room.

the hallway was filled with drunk kids who were barely legal adults to even be drinking.

you scoffed at their loudness, how could people be this loud?

you found yourself walking in the courtyard, seeing another figure in the distance walking in your direction.

his face was hidden with the hood of his jacket pulled over his head and him keeping his eyes locked with the ground.

you were hoping he’d just keep walking and not even notice you, but the moment you hoped for that, he glances up seeing you.

“can’t sleep either huh?” his tired voice spoke.

you noticed he stopped in front of you, forcing yourself to stop in your tracks.

you scanned him, scanned his dark chocolate eyes, dark fluffy hair. tight skinny jeans and black timberlands.

he gave you and soft smile, having you picture him as a soft bunny.

not letting your guard down, you just slowly nod at him, “yeah, the dorms are filled with drunken idiots who don’t know what peace and quiet is.”

he chuckled, nodding in response, “I feel that.”

you nodded again pressing your lips into a thin line, ready to walk around him and continue your middle of the night walk.

“you know it’s not safe to walk around by yourself this late at night.” he said, knowing as if you were about to ditch his ass in the middle of the courtyard.

you raised a brow, “you saying since i’m a female I can’t take care of myself?”

he quickly shook his head, “no no!” he raised his hands up in defense, “I didn’t mean it that way, you look as if you could totally kick my ass.”

“then what exactly do you mean?” you crossed your arms shifting your weight to your left side.

“I mean that walking around alone isn’t safe because if a group of people, or drunken idiots, decided to gang up on you, you couldn’t take them all on your own.”

“then why are you walking around alone then?” you snapped.

he smiled softly again glancing down at the ground, “I was hoping to find someone else. someone to take walks with, I guess.”

his words hit your heart, probably harder than they should have.

“well…maybe we can walk together then.” you said softly, playing with your fingers out of nervous habit.

“i’d actually really love that.” he said in response.

and since then he’d call you in the middle of the night asking for late night walks.

the two of you connected quicker than expected. you knew for a fact you were the one that got attached first.

you found yourself purposely acting cold to see if he’d wrap his arms around you or even offer you his hoodie.

you found yourself missing him before you even realized you were missing him.

but soon enough, you started to realize the attachment he had to you also.

you’d never forget the way he asked you to date him.

or the way his lips felt the first time he kissed you.

you’d never thought the day would come where you’d no longer have the feeling of him on your lips.

tonight was the first time taking a late night walk in months.

you always thought taking a walk without him was wrong, but tonight was the exception.

pulling your phone from your pocket, you dialed his number, your thumb hovering over the send call button.

you wanted to call him, to talk to him. have him come along on this walk and see how much he missed this.

but you quickly locked your phone and shoved it back in your pocket.

ten minutes have passed as you walked past the coffee shop the two of you used to go to when you both were too lazy to make coffee that morning. seeing the chair and table you two always sat at.

you instantly pulled your phone back out and redials his number, pressing call and holding the phone to your ear, listening to the ringing.

“sorry to miss your call! leave a message and i’ll ring ya back!”

you ended the call after hearing his voice mail. your heart broke at hearing his voice, but you always found yourself smiling knowing that his voicemail was still the same.

the two of you sat around for hours helping each other with voicemails.

you sighed, thinking he’s probably sound asleep.

or so you thought until you heard his laugh.

you froze in place, glancing across the street to see his well-known figure. his hood over his head, his typical timberlands, and skinny jeans with a white tee shirt.

his laugh was followed by the voice of his friends and then softly pushing on each other.

it broke your heart to see them all together. you missed his friends as well, they were at one point your best friends also.

you couldn’t move from your frozen place, eyes locked onto him, half wanting him to notice you and the other half not wanting him to see you at all.

he looks at the ground, then up and over in your direction, his smile slowly fading at seeing you.

his eyes that were just smiling were now filled with pain.

he stopped walking, turning and facing you.

he took deep breaths, seeing you after months was killing him. his heartaches and all he wanted to do was rush across the street and wrap you in his arms.

but he knew he couldn’t.

“why wouldn’t it work Jungkook?!” you softly spoke with a shaky voice, it was clear as day that your heart was broken just as much as his.

“because i’m holding you back from a future you need. I can’t give you the things you’d want. i’m just some music major and there’s no for sure when it comes to this. you’re going to be an amazing doctor someday and I can’t hold you back.” jungkook responded.

he believed leaving you was for the best of your future, but he didn’t realize how much he’d mess up your future.

he kept staring at you, and you finally decided to unfreeze yourself and rush to him, that was until his attention was taken back by his friends. he jogged to catch up to them, leaving you alone.

never would he ever leave you stranded alone this late at night.

but there was a first time for everything.

“I hate you, Jungkook. I hate that I love you. I hate you I hate you I hate you,” you whispered watching him continue to walk down the street, “I hate that I want you still.”

#mysweetuniverse #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #reader x jungkook #angst #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #reader x bts #yeonzzzn writing

53 notes · View notes

wild-karrde · 9 months

Text

In Command - Part 14

Master List | Previous Part | Next Part

A/N: If you saw me just post this without a header, NO YOU DIDN'T. Can't lie, I've been gravitating towards writing this fic a lot more lately, so I HOPE YOU ENJOY because I've just been having a ball (sorry in advance for the angst). As always, thank you to the wonderful @teletraan-meets-jarvis for beta-reading for me!!!

Chapter Rating: T

Warnings: mention of injury, language, LOTSA ANGST

Word Count: 8.9k words

The transport from the capital was deafeningly silent aside from the hum of the engine and the occasional cough, sneeze, or snore from one of the handful of other passengers onboard. Since it was mostly empty, Senna had chosen to stretch out across an entire row of seats, leaving Rex to find a seat for himself. He opted for the row of seats directly across from her, hoping that was enough distance.

“Please don’t ask this of me.”

She was leaning against the window with her arms crossed and eyes closed, clearly trying to sleep, but the pinch between her brows gave away the fact that she was still very much awake. Rex hated that he knew that.

He was at least glad that the blaster wound on her abdomen didn’t seem to be making her terribly uncomfortable.

At least not any more uncomfortable than I’ve probably already made her.

He’d always known it was a possibility that she’d say no to him, but he’d allowed his optimism to run unchecked, giving him unfounded confidence that she wouldn’t. Even now, his mind whispered to him that there was still a chance.

She doesn’t think we can do both. Keep fighting and be together.

He couldn’t deny that her logic was sound, but for once, he didn’t care about being logical. He’d spent all of his life worrying about risk and odds and whether something was a good idea or not. For once, he wanted to be a little reckless, to toss caution to the wind in favor of something he wanted.

But she had said no. And he would respect that. No matter how much it twisted his heart. No matter how sure he was that she felt the same. She’d said as much.

“I can’t love you and do my job.”

“Please don’t ask this of me.”

The implication in that statement was clear; she was trying to do what she thought was right. Her reasoning and her sense of duty had gotten her this far, and he understood her hesitancy, even if he hated it. He was a threat in her mind, a threat to her place in the rebellion, a threat to the only stability she’d known since the end of the war. And he’d never dream of taking that from her, but he also understood he couldn’t account for every variable. He had wanted to tell her that leadership wouldn’t care if they were together, but that wasn’t a guarantee he could make. He wanted to argue more that they deserved this, that they could make this work, but could they? Was she right?

Don’t we deserve this?

His own words and arguments echoed in his mind. He’d lashed out, and she’d retaliated. He had to at least credit her with being firm in her stance while not taking any cheap shots, despite the emotional toll the conversation had clearly taken. Rex knew he’d taken a swipe at her with the remark about attachments, but he’d been hurting, and the way she’d squared her shoulders, as if she knew it was coming had only made it feel worse. She knew him as much as he knew her. In fact, he was almost certain she knew him better than any of his brothers ever had. Sure, Cody had learned to read Rex’s mannerisms and Fives could see when he was troubled, but Senna knew his heart in ways no one else had.

His eyes drifted over to her again as she shifted in her seat, clearly trying to will sleep to take her through sheer stubbornness, and he fought the urge to smile at her. She sniffled quietly, rubbing at her face before readjusting and crossing her ankles over one another, the toes of her boots dangling in the aisle. She scratched at the bacta patch under her shirt. He wanted to go and cover her with his jacket, to let her lean on his shoulder instead of the cold, hard metal of the window frame.

But she’d said no. And before he’d loved her, he’d respected her, and that wasn’t going to change now. Part of that respect included accepting her decision, even if he thought she was wrong. Even if he didn’t believe her. Even if he thought there were hundreds of ways they could make it work.

She’d said no. And that would be that. It had to be.

The hours dragged on, and it felt as though the aisle between them widened with every passing second, pushing them further and further apart. Rex filled his time checking the news holos on his datapad, trying to distract himself from the woman sitting across from him. He was slightly relieved that the incident in the market had been officially chalked up to an altercation with a desperate thief gone awry. A rough sketch of Senna’s mask was attached to the bulletin, along with a vague description. Rex chuckled to himself as he read it.

Force sensitive individual, likely a Jedi, so treat with extreme caution. Likely armed. Slightly less than two meters in height, estimated weight of 90 kg. Human or humanoid, thought to be male.Injured by blaster shot to the chest/abdomen. Likely accompanied by an accomplice, although no physical description is available.

Of course they had to make her a man. Couldn’t have Fisk’s fragile ego damaged by someone smaller than him and female. Also, ‘thief’ sounds better than ‘rebel spy with dirt on an officer’. At least they didn’t get a clear look at me, I suppose.

He had no doubt Fisk had doctored his account of what had happened, but he also wasn’t certain if that made him more or less dangerous. The fact that they’d included her Force sensitivity made him nervous. It was clear they were painting her as a desperate fugitive in the hopes that the public would turn her in without hesitation.

They know a Jedi is here. A high-value target. That makes things more complicated for us.

When the transport finally groaned to a stop at their home port, Senna popped out of her seat immediately, slinging her rucksack and one of the other bags across her back and striding down the steps without so much as a glance at Rex. He watched her go before heaving a sigh, grabbing the remaining bag and trailing behind her.

The walk back to their dwelling was quick, and when they arrived, Senna bounded up the stairs wordlessly.

“Sen.” Rex’s voice sounded rough from hours of no use.

She paused at the top of the stairs, looking down at him from under her hood. He couldn’t make out her expression in the dark, so he charged forward with what he wanted to say.

“I’ll leave Organa a message that we made it back. We can talk about next steps in the morning.”

She bobbed her head in acknowledgement, seemingly waiting to see if he’d say anything else.

There’s so much more, but where to even begin?

She didn’t give him another moment to think, turning on her heel and disappearing into her bedroom. The door clicked shut behind her.

Rex stood at the bottom of the stairs for a few more moments, rubbing his thumb along a scratch in the banister’s wood. He didn’t think she was angry with him, but he almost wished she was. It’d make the silence more bearable. After a few moments, he heaved another heavy sigh before trudging to his room.

Pushing the door open, he dropped his bag on the floor to be dealt with in the morning, kicking his boots into the corner. His back was sore from the uncomfortable transport seat, and it felt as though exhaustion had practically seeped into the places between his muscles, weighing him down further. His bed, albeit empty, had never looked so inviting.

As he bent down to undo the blaster holster on his thigh, he noted a red blip of light out of the corner of his eye. He turned.

The commlink on his nightstand was blinking.

Rex’s breath hitched in his throat as his blood roared in his ears.

Ahsoka.

The holster on his hip and his fatigue forgotten, he charged across the bedroom, sitting heavily on the bed and snatching the commlink off of the nightstand. His hands shook as he read the display. The message was dated two days before.

Just checking in. Been a while. Call when you have time. Nothing urgent. - Snips

She’s alive.

Rex let out a shuddering breath that was almost a sob, cradling his head in his hands. He hadn’t realized until this very moment how worried he’d been for her, how much he’d tried to push it to the back of his mind. But she’d used the codename as an indicator, just like he’d taught her, and that meant that she was fine, that this really was just her checking in. If she’d signed it with her real name, it would seem innocuous to anyone with her, but he’d have known she was in trouble, and he wasn’t sure if he could have handled that at the moment.

She’s alright.

He chuckled quietly to himself as relief flooded through him, his thumbs already typing out a response.

It has been a while. You awake? Not sure what time it is where you are. Can talk now. - Fulcrum

When Ahsoka had left, she’d given him this frequency, one that she and Anakin and a few others had used during the war. She was certain no one else had it, and the ones that did likely weren’t using it anymore. So far, it seemed she was right, but even so, they’d taken precautions, using codenames chosen to hide their identities. Only a few people had known Ahsoka as Snips, a nickname given to her by Anakin, and Rex had just adopted the codename from the frequency, as much as Ahsoka had pushed for more whimsical options.

The commlink in his hand vibrated almost immediately, and he nearly dropped it in his haste to answer the incoming call. Finally, he managed to find the correct button to open the link.

“F-Fulcrum here,” he stuttered out, holding his breath for her response.

“Hey Fulcrum. Snips here.” Her voice felt like a warm hug, and Rex had to dig his teeth into his lip to keep from crying. He’d been holding himself together so tightly, but something about hearing the young Togruta he considered to be his little sister on the other end of the link nearly broke him.

“It’s good to hear your voice,” he croaked.

“You too, Rex,” she replied, dropping the codename.

“None of that now,” he chided, ignoring the pull of the familiar in his chest. As much as he wanted to talk with her as if everything was fine, as if it was all normal, he couldn’t risk it. “Don’t know who could be listening.”

“You’re such a stickler for protocol,” she teased. That was familiar too, but for different reasons.

“You’re not the first person to tell me that,” he joked, trying not to think of Senna.

“You sound tired,” she noted. “You alright?”

Hell no, but I’m better knowing you’re safe.

“Had better days.”

“Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“This a social call?”

“Yeah. Kind of. Missed you.”

He ran his hand through his hair. This was the first time he’d heard from her in almost a year, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to spend it regaling her with details of his failed romantic endeavors. “You could always come back. Harder to miss me that way,” he joked.

She sighed. “Not quite there yet. I’m sorry.”

His chest tightened. “S’alright. I understand. I know you need time.” He flexed his fingers. “Can I at least ask where you are?”

“Raada for now,” she answered. “We’ll see if this one sticks. It’s quiet here.”

“Safe?”

“Am I ever?”

“Not putting my mind at ease much, Snips.”

He could practically hear her smiling. “I’ve never been good at that either, if we’re both honest.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“So, can you tell me what you’re up to these days?” she asked.

Rex laid back on his bed, his eyes drifting to the ceiling, picturing Senna in her bed upstairs. “I’m on a mission. Been on it for a while. Outer Rim, but I don’t want to say more than that.”

“Got it. You alone?”

“Nope.”

“I sense there’s something you’re not telling me.”

He sighed. “Sense that, do you?”

“Oh come on, Fulcrum. We’ve known each other long enough. I can tell when you’re being purposefully vague.”

“I don’t think the words purposefully vague have ever been used to describe me before,” he dodged.

“Then I’ll put it more bluntly. You’re a terrible liar, Rex.”

“Snips-”

“So who is it?” she asked, ignoring his scolding tone.

He scrubbed his hand over his face, debating as to whether Senna would want Ahsoka to at least know she was alive. He replayed the memory of Empire Day, the relief in her eyes when he told her Ahsoka had escaped. That moment clarified it for him, confirmed what he suspected she’d want. He hoped she’d forgive him later for not waking her, but he selfishly wanted this moment with Ahsoka for himself. Hopefully, there’d be time for the two of them to reconnect later.

She’d want her to know though. Just gotta be careful.

“She’s someone you know,” he started. “And it isn’t like that.”

“We’ll debate that later. How do I know her?”

Rex chewed the inside of his cheek as he chose his words carefully. He really wanted to believe this frequency was completely secure, but he couldn’t be too careful. Especially not with Ahsoka and Senna’s lives at stake.

“Do you remember a technical specialist your other brother knew? One with long brown hair and blue eyes? That you had to frequently visit in garages and haul out from underneath ships or speeders?”

The way Ahsoka lightly gasped on the other end of the line made it clear that she realized who he was referring to. She was silent for a moment. “Are her jokes still terrible?” Her voice was pitched slightly differently, caught somewhere between relief and excitement.

“The worst,” Rex confirmed, his own voice suddenly tighter. He wiped at the tears blurring his vision. “As is her caf. She makes some pretty good noodles though.”

“All she eats is noodles.”

“She’s branched out a bit.”

Ahsoka chuckled. “So you fell in love with her? Is that what I’m understanding?”

Rex exhaled sharply. Ahsoka was one of the few people he still had from before, the closest thing he had to family outside of his brothers. And honestly, he wanted to talk about it with her. “Something like that,” he said softly.

He could hear her hesitation on the other end of the link. “But it didn’t work out?”

“It didn’t,” he confirmed. “Just not the right time.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was sincere.

“Me too, kid,” he sighed. “Me too.”

—

Senna swore through clenched teeth as she pulled the used bandage away from her abdomen. It had been three rotations since they’d returned from the capital city, and ever since they’d gotten back, Rex had spent most of his time avoiding her. If she was honest, she hadn’t made any effort to change that. She didn’t feel like she had any right to.

Unfortunately, that meant she had to change the dressings on her wound herself, a daily task that only seemed to annoy her further. The rate at which she was healing was far too slow for her liking. Before the end of the war, she could have gone down to a medbay and gotten a stronger salve or even hopped into a bacta tank for a quick soak, and her blaster wound would likely have healed within a few rotations. Now, she could see the edges of her skin around the wound just beginning to heal with some of the angry redness receding. It still smarted to all hell, and she was tired of the lingering throb. Her heart was aching enough as it was.

She missed Rex. He spent most days out doing reconnaissance or writing reports in his room on his datapad. Neither of them had made any extra effort to be around each other. A heaviness had fallen over the dwelling, and the distance between them had never felt greater. It didn’t help that Rex had reported what they’d learned about Ilum to Senator Organa, and no one seemed to be taking it seriously. Or at least, in her opinion, not seriously enough.

Especially not after everything we went through to get that information.

Overall, the leadership, whoever they were, had felt that the concept of harvesting an entire world’s worth of kyber was “far-fetched” and “unlikely to actually occur”. In their eyes, the Emperor’s concerns lied elsewhere, particularly in quashing small uprisings that were popping up across the mid rim, and with the rebellion’s limited resources, they had to focus on more “real” threats which had only frustrated her more.

As if the Empire hasn’t already shown it can subdue dissidents while causing twelve other problems at the same time. The Emperor won’t let a few small distractions deter him from getting what he wants. And if he gets a superweapon in his arsenal, one that can bring the entire galaxy to its knees, then we’ve already lost. How can they not see that?

It didn’t help that their mission also hung in the balance. Organa’s response the day after they’d returned had conveyed thinly-veiled disappointment and a desire to re-evaluate whether their presence was still useful on Lothal, especially since the Empire now knew there was a Force user on the planet.

So, they waited.

The two of them still normally sat together for one meal a day as if the refusal to acknowledge a line had been crossed would somehow salvage things, but they normally ate in silence. There was occasionally idle chatter that they’d try and force before Senna would slink off to the shed or up to her office while Rex would return to his room. Since Organa had placed them in a holding pattern while their operation was reviewed, there wasn’t much else to do. The silence appeared to indicate they would likely be moved from Lothal before terribly long as the mission had seemingly run its course, and no other promising intelligence leads had materialized.

Senna wasn’t sure if that’s what she hoped for or not, but what she was certain of was that she couldn’t stand being in this close of a proximity to Rex in their current state. It was torture.

Maybe it’d be better to be done. To start over somewhere else. Alone.

She hoped there’d be another mission for her, although she worried that their debacle in the capital city would make the leadership hesitant to reassign her anywhere new.

It wasn’t our fault. It was the right call. The opportunity was too good to pass up, even with the outcome.

Whatever happened next, she was certain Rex wouldn’t want to be with her, and she couldn’t blame him. The first night they’d returned, she’d heard him speaking quietly to someone in his room when she’d come down for a glass of water, and she’d assumed it was Organa.

Likely asking to not be placed with me. Or perhaps telling them that I was the one that pushed for the meet with Fisk. That it was my mistake.

She’d felt a flash of shame at that thought. Even with how distant he was right now, Rex would never do that to her, never throw her to the wolves. He was too good of a leader for that. No, if anything, he’d take the blame for the whole thing.

Because that’s just how he is.

Still, she’d briefly considered pressing an ear to the door, but she wasn’t certain she wanted to hear what he was saying, no matter who he was talking to. She regretted that thought too, adding it to the long list of regrets she had, chief among them being how badly she’d hurt him. She’d never wanted to do that.

You should have stopped it from the beginning.

But even now, she wasn’t certain where that beginning was. They’d come together so easily, especially after Empire Day. When she’d revealed her secret to him, he’d immediately trusted her, even knowing she’d been lying to him for weeks. He had rewarded her trust with the same level of honesty. She didn’t doubt that he meant it when he said he hadn’t told anyone else about Ahsoka, and she didn’t take his confidence in that moment lightly. And then they’d just been them. It had all been so easy, felt so natural. And then she’d let it go too far.

Still, she thought about his words often.

“We choose to do this, put our lives on the line and stand up for what’s right, and you think we don’t deserve happiness because of that? If anything, I’d say we’re more deserving of it.”

What if he’s right?

How could she and Rex possibly work though? What, were they going to be the star-crossed lovers of the rebellion? She scoffed out loud at the thought.

Ridiculous.

There was a time and a place for love stories, and it wasn’t in the middle of a war. That only happened in those ridiculous romance novels her friends had traded as teenagers in the temple, giggling to one another and swooning over the heroes and their love interests.

It feels like I’ve been in a war most of my adult life.

In reality, the war had only lasted three years, but Order 66 felt like a lifetime ago, and to some degree, it had been. The current version of herself differed so drastically from who she’d been as a Jedi, it was almost as if she had died that day. She had never planned to have someone in her life romantically as a Jedi, and that had been fine then. Sure, she’d had crushes on people at the temple, but they’d been nothing but silly infatuations that she’d been able to brush aside. Her first kiss had been with a friend as teenagers, just to see what all the fuss was about. Her heart had fluttered slightly when their lips had met, but the two of them had fallen into a fit of giggles almost immediately, resting their foreheads together. Ultimately, they had both agreed that it had been silly, but she still held the memory close.

She’s probably dead now too, Senna thought. Just like everyone else we knew. I just hope it wasn’t Bly that did it.

She had looked for a partner after Order 66 in all of the wrong ways. Then, her pursuits had been for someone to make her feel whole again, to fill the gaping void in her heart that grief had torn. But that had always been destined to fail, and ultimately, she gave up when she realized that.

And then she’d met Rex, and now everything was tilted on its axis and the ground beneath her feet felt unsteady. She’d wanted to remain broken, thinking it fueled her, but he had flooded between the cracks in her soul, helping her pull herself back together. Rex had carefully guided her away from her grief and pushed her forward on her own two feet. It wasn’t that he completed her; he treated her as though she was already whole, as marred by her past as she was. He didn’t view her imperfections as something to be smoothed over, but rather, something to be embraced and celebrated.

Because that’s what you do when you love someone. It just took you this long to realize that.

And then you told him no.

Senna sighed, pressing the new bacta patch over her wound and wincing slightly. She still believed it was the best way to keep Rex safe, and she couldn’t have his life on her conscience. He had to know she’d killed some of his brothers in her escape, maybe some he’d even known. She couldn’t be responsible for his death, even indirectly. She wouldn’t survive that.

Her eyes drifted to the carved wooden box still sitting on her desk. It had collected dust in the last few weeks, which she carefully brushed off. The dust particulates danced in the waning sunlight trickling in through the room’s window.

I felt it that day. Just for a moment.

Senna studied her fingers and hand, the hand that she’d reached out towards Fisk, pushing his arm skyward when he’d raised his weapon. It had been so brief, but in that moment, the familiar warmth of the Force had been there, right when she needed it. She hadn’t been practicing much with everything that had been happening with her and Rex, but even when she’d tried in the shed, her connection had almost felt like a sputter, stuttering and uneven like there was interference or static on the line. But in that moment in the market, she’d felt the Force around her as if the barriers she had put in place didn’t exist, and she’d reached out reflexively and pushed. It had been small, but it hadn’t been nothing. She flexed her fingers as she glanced back at the box. Slowly, she reached out, tracing the carvings on the lid before allowing her fingers to undo the latch and flip the lid open for the first time in a year.

Maybe it’s time.

The sunlight glinted off of the engraved hilt of her lightsaber, causing her breath to catch in her throat. She’d spent hours etching the hilt with circuit board-like traces and filigree, and her fingers ran along the grooves lightly, the metal cool against her fingertips. She was suddenly overcome with the urge to grasp the weapon, to feel its familiar weight in her hand once more. She thought of the first time she’d ignited it, how she’d smiled triumphantly as the ice blue blade had illuminated the space around her. It had felt right, natural, like every atom in the universe had aligned for this moment to happen.

Like when you’re with Rex.

She shook her head to clear the thought, ignoring the sting of tears in her eyes. Hesitantly, she allowed her fingers to creep around the hilt, the curve of its circumference fitting perfectly against her palm. As she lifted it out of the box, the memory of the last time she’d held it flooded her mind.

Kashyyyk. Screams. Death. Deflected blaster bolts burning through plastoid into flesh.

The smells from her nightmare filled her nostrils, and the way she’d pleaded with the clones, her friends, to stop shooting echoed in her ears. She’d tried to send as many blaster bolts away from them as she could before realizing it was a lost cause. She remembered the screams as she sent a few of the blasts back to their origins, burning through the clones’ armor as she turned and ran. Her pulse quickened and her breathing became more strained as she quickly dropped her lightsaber and pulled her hand away, snapping the box closed.

Not yet.

Senna doubled over, her elbows digging into her knees as she hid her face in her hands.

I haven’t felt this lost in a year.

Her datapad pinged with an incoming message. She glanced at the screen, noting the familiar frequency. Sighing, she picked it up, her eyes flicking over the words on the screen.

Hope the honeymoon went well! Having a dinner party at our place tomorrow night. Would love to hear all about it then if you can make it! - Zea

She sighed, tapping out a response as she steeled herself for the trek downstairs.

—

Rex knew he spent too much time shut away in his room, but it was one of the few places that didn’t seem littered with evidence of Senna. Her used caf mug on the counter in the kitchen, the lingering smell of sandalwood on the couch, everything seemed to remind him of her and how he’d managed to kriff everything up. He knew he should go and talk to her, but she seemed eager to avoid him, and the last thing he wanted to do was push her further away. Guilt swirled within him, amplified by the fact that he still hadn’t told her that Ahsoka had contacted him. He knew she deserved to know, but at this point, he didn’t know how to tell her without it seeming like another betrayal. His confidence in how she’d respond to him was shaken from what had happened in the capital.

So instead, he stayed in his room, waiting to be told what the next move was.

To distract himself, he’d started searching for his brothers to see if any surviving clones may still be out there. In the depths of his mind, he wondered if he was trying to make himself feel less lonely, to fill the place that he had thought Senna might fit. But this had always been a part of the plan. Rex had just hoped that she might join him in the endeavor. While he hadn’t discovered anything concrete yet, he’d found mentions of a clone with a cybernetic eye had been spotted in the outer rim, a record of a captain had been arrested on Ryloth, a forum post swearing they’d seen a clone with a curving facial scar had been seen sneaking onto a transport off of Coruscant. They were all just starting points, bread crumbs to be gathered and pieced together until he had a solid lead to follow. With millions of brothers out there that shared similar scars or injuries, it was impossible to say for sure that one of them was Wolffe or Cody or any of the others he was close with. But even if he hadn’t known them during the war, they were still a brother, still worth tracking down. He poured all of himself into that work, trying not to think of the woman upstairs.

A knock at his door made him jump, the crack of knuckles against wood sounding incredibly loud in the silence. “Come in,” he grunted.

Senna quietly stepped into the room, the door shutting softly behind her. Rex kept his eyes down, silently hoping that her intrusion wouldn’t leave any evidence behind. The pillow she’d slept on was just finally starting to stop smelling like her. He’d tossed it in the corner, waiting for the scent to dissipate before he would use it again. Even now, he could feel her seeping into the room around him, embedding herself there like a thorn in a wound. He tried to keep his anguish from turning to annoyance.

I’m leaving her alone. I’m trying to do this her way. Isn’t that what she wants?

Senna stood there silently for a few seconds, finally speaking once she realized he wasn’t going to look at her. “Zea reached out.”

“Oh yeah? What does she want?” His voice was gruffer than he intended, but he somewhat hoped it would keep the interaction brief.

He could hear her picking at her fingernails.

Why is she nervous?

“They’ve invited us to a dinner party at their place tomorrow night. There’ll apparently be some Imperial officials there as well, but a small gathering overall. I think we should go.”

He finally raised his eyes to look at her. “Do you know which officials?”

Senna didn’t meet his gaze, shrugging. “She didn’t say. Just some people Brak works with.”

“So there’s a possibility Fisk will be there.”

Her eyes finally met his, and there was a bit of anger there.

“I suppose. But Brak hates him, so not very likely.”

“And you still think going is a good idea?”

“Are you coming with me or not?” Her tone was growing progressively more heated.

“Of course I’d go with you.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

They stared at each other for a moment, and he could see she was silently fuming. Finally, she ran her fingers through her hair, temporarily taming the flyaways that always seemed to be hanging in her face. “Look, you and I both know that we’re about to get pulled. I don’t have to have military experience to have that worked out. So why not try and see if we can glean anything else before that happens? Fisk might be there, but so will other Imperials that might have important information. At a minimum, maybe we can gauge how panicked they are about bumping into me in the capital. Maybe if it’s not that bad, we can use that to argue against getting yanked out of here.”

“Is that what you want?” he asked slowly. “Even after everything that… that happened?”

Her expression softened. “Of course, Rex. I think we can still do good here.”

His heart twisted in his chest. He wanted to ask more questions, to interrogate her as to why she wanted to stay here with him when it seemed they were both just torturing one another. Instead, he merely conceded.

“Alright. We’ll go.”

She gave him a small smile. “Ok. Ok. I’ll find something to wear.” She turned, pushing his door back open.

Before he could stop himself, her name fell from his lips. “Senna.”

She looked back, meeting his eyes. “Yes?”

The words caught in his throat as their eyes met. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say. I’m sorry. Please let’s go back to the way things were. I love you. I understand why you think we can’t, but you’re wrong. I’m sorry. His mind raced as he tried to come up with something, but when he couldn’t, he closed his mouth and just looked at her. “Never mind.”

Quietly, Senna turned and exited the room, letting the door shut behind her.

—

Senna slipped her arm through Rex’s as they stepped out into the cool night air the following evening. His arm felt tense under her fingertips, but she wasn’t certain that she wasn’t imagining it.

“Ready?”

“Yes.” His gaze was fixed straight forward.

It wasn’t going to be the same. And you were silly to expect otherwise.

“Alright then. Let’s get it done,” she murmured.

Senna could already hear laughter coming from Zea and Brak’s dwelling as they made their way over. The door was open and Zea greeted them as they made their way up the front steps. Her face was gracious as always, but a tension lurked behind her eyes. Senna released Rex’s arm and nodded at him to go in without her, pulling Zea aside.

“Everything alright?” she whispered. “You seem upset about something.”

Zea nodded hurriedly, her welcoming smile slipping back into place to hide the strain. “Yes, yes. It’s just…Brak was inviting some of his colleagues over, and apparently Commander Fisk was within earshot, and he essentially invited himself as well, so he’s here, and I’m just struggling with that. He’s been absolutely awful since he returned from his conference, and it’s made life difficult for Brak. He was apparently involved in the incident that took place there.”

Senna had known it was possible he’d be here, and yet, she still couldn’t keep the blood from pounding in her ears at the confirmation that he was. She could feel Rex’s eyes on her, gauging her reaction. Willing her face to conform to some sort of concerned expression, she gripped Zea’s arm gently in what she hoped came across as a comforting gesture. “How awful. Is he alright?”

Zea placed her hand over Senna’s, giving it a grateful squeeze. “He’s fairly banged up, but more than that, he’s just been in a very foul mood, and it’s making everything a bit tense. Most of the people here report to him, so everyone’s walking on eggshells.”

Senna nodded, smiling tightly. “It’ll be alright. Let’s not let one person ruin this evening for you.”

Having an ally seemed to lighten Zea’s mood. “Of course, you’re right.” She slipped her hand around Senna’s elbow, pulling her into the house. “Now, I want to hear all about your honeymoon.”

—

“…and that was the night the aurora was at its peak, so we were fortunate enough to find a spot out among the mountains to make camp. We just stayed up all night watching it from our campsite.”

Rex’s hand was clasped in Senna’s on the tabletop as she regaled the party goers with tales of their recent “honeymoon”. He’d allowed her to take the lead again in the conversation, content to add any commentary in when she directed a question at him. He never failed to be amazed at her storytelling abilities and how quickly she was able to weave details together into a believable account. As he surveyed the rest of the table, he caught Commander Fisk staring at them out of the corner of his eye. Fisk had kept his distance for most of the night, merely shooting menacing looks at Senna when he thought no one was looking. Apparently, he hadn’t gotten over her rejecting him. He was sporting a black eye from his altercation with Senna in the market that was on the mend, and he walked with a bit of a limp, which Rex found incredibly satisfying. He couldn’t help but be proud of the damage she’d done to the Imperial.

She really landed a few on him.

Turning his gaze away from the commander, he smirked into his whiskey as he sipped from his glass.

“It sounds like it was an incredible adventure,” said one of the other women at the table. She was an Imperial officer that Rex and Senna had vetted before but ultimately decided wasn’t worth pressing for information.

“It was,” Senna smiled, leaning against Rex’s shoulder. “The best we could have asked for, all things considered.”

Rex heard a grunt from Fisk’s direction and shot him a look that was enough to make the other man avert his eyes.

“And what of your week, Commander?” Brak asked, turning the conversation towards his superior. Rex admired his attempt to engage the man in conversation, despite his contempt for him. “How was the conference?”

Fisk straightened in his chair, attempting to exude some semblance of dignity. “Productive. We were able to discuss a great many topics and proposals that I believe will aid us in our future endeavors.”

“And the large project?” Brak prompted.

Fisk’s eyes darted nervously around the table, settling on Rex and Senna. “I hardly think the company here is the appropriate audience for such discussions.” It made sense for him to focus on them since they were the only ones at this party that were not actively working for the Empire, but it still unsettled Rex.

Brak laughed tensely. “Apologies, Commander. We’d brought up the project before, and Valla found it fascinating. I’ve heard it discussed openly before, so I didn’t think it would be an issue. My mistake.” He waved his hands in what was likely supposed to be an appeasing motion, but it came across as more condescending than deferential.

Fisk ignored him, turning to brazenly stare at Senna. Rex couldn’t tell what the commander was thinking, but he knew he didn’t like it. It was as if something had clicked in the man’s brain, and a warning alarm was starting to quietly sound in the back of Rex’s mind.

“I didn’t know you were so interested in engineering, Valla,” Fisk stated flatly, his eyes never leaving her.

If Senna noticed that Fisk was suddenly suspicious of something, she didn’t openly show it, sipping from her glass of wine before answering him.“Oh Wen, you know I love talking technical things. I’m just not always good at it, remember?” She laughed lightly, but Fisk’s eyes continued to bore into her.

“And what of the security incident that happened while you were there?” Zea asked, missing the tension between Senna and Fisk as she continued to steer the conversation.

“Oh, it was hardly as large as public rumors would lead you to believe. We managed to shoot one of the assailants and wound them significantly, but unfortunately, they are still at large for now.”

“Should we be worried?” asked one of the other women at the table. “It seems concerning that there would be an organized rebel cell here on Lothal.”

“Not at all,” Fisk said firmly. “We believe that there were only two of them and that they acted alone. Hardly what I’d classify as a rebel cell.” His voice dripped with condescension. “We’re confident that we’ll apprehend them soon enough, and that will put an end to that.”

Brak smiled and gestured at Senna. “See, you two managed to miss all the fun while you were out on your honeymoon. This has been the talk of the town the last few days.”

Senna laughed. “It would seem that way.”

“How long were you two gone for?” Fisk asked, the question setting off even more alarms in the back of Rex’s brain.

“Oh, around a week. We just got back a few rotations ago.”

“Exactly how many rotations ago?” Fisk asked, and the tension at the table grew.

“Alright, Wen, we don’t need to interrogate them about their honeymoon now, do we?” One of the other officers joked, sloshing his drink in his glass. Fisk shot him a withering look, but remained silent after that.

The warning bells in the back of Rex’s mind screamed, no matter how much he tried to reason with himself.

He has no reason to think it’s us. The timeline matches up, but that’s it. He’s just looking for justification to pin something on Senna since she rejected him.

But isn’t that just as dangerous?

He made a mental note to reach out to Organa as soon as they returned home. As much as it made his heart ache, if Fisk was going to start sniffing around, it was time to leave Lothal.

Even if it meant he and Senna had to go their separate ways.

Following dinner, the party moved to the dwelling’s living space as the couples and officers continued to chat while sipping on their various drinks. Rex slipped his arm around Senna’s waist and kept himself between her and Fisk as much as possible to avoid confrontation. She didn’t pull away, which both relieved him, but also, made his heart clench. He understood this was likely going to be their last night together on Lothal, and that maybe, they’d never see each other again. But if Fisk had his way, Senna would surely suffer, regardless of if he was able to prove that she was the Jedi from the market or not. That was an alternative Rex couldn’t stomach. The warning bells were still ringing insistently in the back of his mind as a plan took shape.

I’ll contact Organa and request an immediate evac. Worst case, it takes a rotation to hear back. More likely it’ll be a few hours since it’ll be flagged as urgent. Unless he has a pick-up in-system, which is doubtful, it’s going to take a few rotations for someone to get out here. There’s always the emergency beacon, but there’s no guarantee they’re any closer. And if they’re on a mission–

His thoughts were interrupted as Senna slipped from his grasp, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. He felt the bandages on her abdomen as she moved, just barely perceptible against her skin under the fabric. She’d seemingly been moving with significantly less difficulty the last day or so. Rex of course knew that it would take a while to fully heal due to their limited medical supplies, but he was at least glad to see that she wasn’t in as much pain. He knew she’d gotten lucky with the place the bolt had hit her, and he was grateful for at least that much.

“I think I’m going to go refresh my drink,” she was saying, her blue eyes meeting his. He swallowed hard, trying not to drown in them. “Anything for you, Lon?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks.”

She smiled disarmingly and moved away towards the kitchen where Zea had laid out all of the open bottles of libations for their guests. Rex watched her go, noting Wen followed her shortly after. He felt his entire body tense, his hands curling into fists.

Keep calm. She’s not in there alone. He won’t try anything.

He felt fire burn in his stomach as he tried to pay attention to the conversation going on around him, but the alarms in the back of his mind were beginning to crescendo.

—

Senna uncorked a bottle of wine she’d been drinking from throughout the evening and began to fill her glass when she felt a hand slip around her waist. She immediately knew it wasn’t Rex, and her entire body stiffened as Fisk quietly spoke in her ear.

“Well, it sounds like you all had a lovely time on your trip.”

She steadied her breathing as she looked around the small room. There were a few other people in the kitchen chatting with each other, but no one had seemed to notice Wen’s proximity to her. She moistened her lips, turning to look him in the eye. “Yes, it was wonderful. A much needed trip for both of us, I would say.” Her smile was forced, but she frankly didn’t feel like smoothing the edges for him this time.

His fingers dug into her hip, and she bit back the panic rising in her throat. Names were being called from the living space, and suddenly, the people in the kitchen were filing out, clearly still unaware of the tense conversation occurring in the corner. As the last couple exited the kitchen, laughing with one another, Senna felt a cold sweat break out across the back of her neck.

I’m on my own.

The prospect was terrifying. She hadn’t missed the way the Imperial had begun probing at dinner, clearly suddenly suspicious of her and Rex.

He has nothing. He’s grasping at straws.

Squaring her shoulders, she turned to face Fisk, brushing his arm away as she did so. She smiled sweetly at him, but anger licked up her spine. They were not on equal footing, and this time, Senna was determined to not let him think he had the upper hand. The fact that she didn’t immediately cower only seemed to infuriate the Imperial more. He stepped closer to her. Senna didn’t flinch.

“I could tell him, you know,” he practically spat under his breath.

“Tell him what, Wen? That you and I had dinner a few times and that you misunderstood my intentions? Good luck with that,” Senna replied derisively. She tried to brush past him, but he pressed a hand against her abdomen, pushing her backwards and pinning her against the beverage table. The bottles on the table rattled slightly from her impact. Senna sucked in her breath at the sudden pressure on her healing injury, and she saw a look of confusion cross his face as he felt the bacta patch under her shirt.

Fuck.

He leaned forward, his mouth inches from her ear. “Hurt yourself, Valla?”

Senna’s voice was low and venomous even though she was still keeping her smile in place in case she was being watched. “I understand you may be unfamiliar with how female anatomy functions Commander, but if you must know, I’m menstruating. I experience rather painful cramps, and often have to wear a heat patch to get some relief.” She gripped his wrist tightly. “Perhaps in the future, you’ll opt to keep your hands to yourself and mind your own business.”

Senna tried to remove his hand, but Fisk pushed harder against the bacta patch. She bit the inside of her cheek as his thumb dug into the wound, trying to keep her face from twisting in pain. Fisk smirked triumphantly.

“Funny, the patch doesn’t feel very warm to me.”

“Is there a problem here?” Rex asked from behind them, placing his hand on Wen’s shoulder. His voice was quiet, but the threat was apparent.

“Oh no problem at all, Lon,” Fisk glowered. “Just telling your wife how lovely she looks this evening.” He released the pressure on her waist and Senna did everything in her power to not gasp at the sudden relief, staring him down as he stepped back from her.

“Valla, I think it’s time to go,” Rex said firmly. “I’ve got a lot of work to get to in the morning.”

“Oh I’ll bet you do,” Fisk muttered under his breath.

Senna saw the anger flare in Rex’s eyes, and before she could do anything to stop him, Rex swiftly had Fisk pinned against the wall by his collar, his feet lifting off the floor a few centimeters. The Imperial’s eyes bulged as he grabbed at Rex’s wrists in panic. Senna suddenly had the wild urge to laugh as she watched the fear in his gaze, the sudden feeling of helplessness at the unexpected. It was so beautifully poetic to watch him feel a fraction of what he’d put her through, even if panic was coursing through her.

“Quiet, wouldn’t want to upset the other people enjoying themselves,” Rex rasped. “Now, I’m going to tell you this one time, so listen well, Commander. You won’t get a second chance. Do you understand?”

Fisk squeaked out an affirmative, nodding his head in confirmation.

“Good. You are to stay away from my wife. I’ve known plenty of men like you in my life, and they don’t survive long when I’m around, so unless you want your Imperial career to be vastly shorter than it already promises to be, you’ll keep your distance and never speak to her again. Have I made myself clear?”

Fisk nodded again.

“Excellent.” Rex released him and he dropped to the floor, barely keeping his feet under him. The commander glared at Rex as he straightened his jacket and fiddled with his cuffs as he made his way towards the kitchen’s doorway. He paused there, glancing back at them. Senna felt Rex step closer to her, his hand slipping around her waist protectively. She leaned into him. Fisk’s lip curled into a sneer.

“You know, Valla is lucky to have such a doting husband. Too bad they can’t clone you.”

Rex’s fingertips dug into Senna’s side. “Yeah. A shame,” he replied evenly.

Fisk chuckled quietly, his eyes flicking between the two of them before he slipped back into the living room.

Rex’s warm hands gently turned Senna to face him. As the adrenaline wore off, she felt her legs suddenly start to tremble beneath her, and she leaned heavily on the table next to them. Rex gripped her upper arm, his other hand still holding onto her waist.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“We should go,” she said quietly. “He felt the patch.” She couldn’t meet Rex’s eyes. “I tried to lie. Some bantha shit about it being a heating pad, but I don’t think he bought it. He knows.”

This is it. The end. We’re done.

“Sen–”

“Not here,” she hissed. Finally, she glanced up and saw the hurt in his eyes.

He knows it too.

“We have to go,” she repeated, swallowing the lump in her throat. “We have to go now.”

He clearly wanted to say something else, but closed his mouth, nodding. She straightened, taking deep, steadying breaths before she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and allowed him to lead her out. They made their way back through the crowd, bidding farewells to their hosts. She caught sight of Fisk as they reached the front door. He was leaning against a far wall, watching them from over the rim of his glass. He raised his drink in a toast to her, and she averted her gaze. Rex’s hand slipped over hers soothingly, and she suddenly realized how tightly she was gripping his arm.

It took everything in her to keep her pace unhurried as they made their way back down the street to their dwelling. As soon as the door hissed shut behind them, she turned to Rex. “We’ve got to get out of here. Now.”

He nodded. “Start breaking things down. I’ll try to get a hold of Organa.”

“We can’t wait for him, Rex.”

He ran his hands over his face. “I know. But we have no choice.” She could see him working the problem. “He still has very little proof, so I’m doubtful he can pull together a strike force immediately, especially against a civilian couple.”

Senna huffed. “You remember the festival? You really think the Empire is going to be that concerned with proof? They don’t give a shit if we’re civilians. If he goes in there claiming I’m a Jedi, they’ll leap at the opportunity. We have to leave now.”

Rex paced. “We can’t just leave. I have no doubt Fisk is putting out a bulletin with our names as we speak. If we go to a port, he’ll know, and we’ll be arrested immediately. We can’t use a public transport. I’ve got an emergency beacon, but that has to be a last resort. Hopefully, we’ll hear back in a few hours and–”

“We can’t just stay here,�� she argued.

“Just give me a second to think, Senna,” Rex finally snapped.

She recoiled.

He thinks this is your fault.

“Alright,” she replied quietly. “I’ll go start breaking down my equipment and wiping drives.” Without another word, she turned and walked up the stairs. Rex didn’t say anything else, and Senna felt the hot sting of tears in her eyes.

He thinks this is your fault.

And maybe he’s right.

Tag List: @seriowan @partoftheeternalsoul @rosmariner @misogirl828 @ellichonkasaurusrex @zoeykallus @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @staycalmandhugaclone @redheadgirl @fordo-kixed-rex @wizardofrozz @ariadnes-red-thread @justanothersadperson93 @leftealeaf @kaminocasey @echos-girlfriend @lucyysthings @obihiddlenox @merkitty49 @littlemissmanga @clonecyaree @baba-fett @sleepingsun501 @rexxdjarin @samspenandsword @babygirlrex0504 @ladytano420 @fxlsealarm @runforrestr @djarrex @corrieguards @the-cantina @witchklng @wolffegirlsunite @fives-lover @rain-on-kamino @ladykatakuri @ladykagewaki @arctrooper69 @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

#karrde writes #in command #star wars #the clone wars #tcw #captain rex #post order 66 #OC Senna Aven #captain rex x oc #captain rex x ofc #captain rex x original female character #slow burn #angst #friends to lovers

51 notes · View notes

roobylavender · 6 months

Note

had talia not been character assassinated do you think she and bruce should have gotten back together?

no. i hate to use the word "phase" bc that would seem to diminish the importance of what's between them, which is something that will always persist esp as their continued dedication to the same causes and their respect for each other remains. but i do think realistically bruce should be a phase in talia's life. at least in terms of consummated romances specifically. i do love the idea of them remaining allies, close friends, and co-parents, but i think allowing talia to walk away from ra's and bruce in the first place has to stand for something in the long term. before talia went her own way i think it was easier to imagine a potential future where she ended up with bruce bc it felt like the desirable option. she was in this very debilitating position where she had little to no freedom to act on her own desires and goals, the embodiment of which was none other than bruce. so when you frame her situation pre-tower of babel, obv wanting to be with bruce was appealing. he was as much the love of her life as he was a means of escape and freedom and talia having the scope to then act on her own desires. i think that's what subsequently makes dc #750 (or is it #570. i never get the numbers straight and i'm too lazy to check) a really clever issue, actually, bc it acknowledges that and the fact that bruce once again setting her free bc of his love for her actually gives her the courage to step out on her own where she never has before. the fact that she has the option to go back to gotham with bruce and presumably have everything she's ever wanted with him, but she leaves it anyway, is a really huge deal. it's a statement. she loves him, but not more than she loves herself. and sure, what talia puts herself through during lex corp era certainly begs the question of whether her version of loving herself is really viable or in any way healthy, and i would love to see bruce help her recognize that she's not alone and that she doesn't have to do it alone to prove that she's capable. all of this i agree with. but i don't think that really means she and bruce have to fall back on their once-imagined dream of playing house. even if talia did find methods of going about her work that were mentally healthier i don't really know what'd be in it for her to play house with bruce in gotham. bc that is what it would have to be, for their relationship to work in any way. bruce will never leave gotham and son of the demon didn't need to explore that issue bc it was never going to get there but trust that corny as the line about naming the baby thomas or martha was it was reflective of a reality: gotham is bruce's entire life. no matter where he goes, no matter what he does, no matter who he works with, in the end he will always belong to gotham. and i simply do not think that would ever work for talia bc there is so much more she is capable of. while her vision is aligned with bruce's her scope of access and ability is entirely distinct of his own and there is so much more that she can do aside from relegate herself to gotham (hence why lex corp as an arc makes so much sense, bc it capitalizes on that scope). and yeah every superhero couple is kinda crazy and they have teleportation and shit but idk i don't think it's really a relationship for each party to go on long missions with ill-defined parameters that give them the worst sleep schedules known to man and occasionally they share a bed. it really isn't. and that's something that bruce and talia have to live with. their duty is always going to come first even though they both have a passion for civilian life. for talia to be in a relationship again she would have to stop having the liberty of being able to go wherever the work carries her and for bruce to be in a relationship again he would have to have the equivalent of a robin-wife. neither of these things is ever going to happen. so

#outbox #i realize this sounds somewhat hypocritical bc then it's like. but what about damian! wouldn't the same apply to him!#and idk i don't think it would. your kid is different from your lover #obv i imagine talia would try to be around for damian as much as possible #but as i've discussed a lot of times even that i think would be tricky for her. she was willing to say she lost her baby #bc she thought if she didn't the world would lose batman #she's like. craaaaazy dedicated to her work so yeah i do think she'd try to coparent with whatever capacity she could #and her love would be genuine and overflowing etc etc #but at the end of the day she's not going to settle in gotham solely for the purpose of raising him #or for the purpose of appeasing bruce's notions of pathetic puppy dog romance #her liberty is too impt to her #ironically enough this is funny to talk about in context of that batman & robin panel from yesterday bc like #had they not character assassinated her that's really how it might've gone. at least imo #like it's a shame they had to resort to all of these racist and orientalist tropes about her being an abusive mother #to somehow justify why bruce should be the resident parent instead #when you literally could've just followed the thread of talia valuing her independence #versus bruce being desperate for any remaining semblance of normal civilian life like it's an oxygen tank and he's losing air #not only would that have been realistic it would also have carried nuance and allowed insight into bruce and talia's psyches #and more than anything. it would have been funny #but i DIGRESS. tldr yes talia would coparent but even that would be with certain limitations #i think she's the kind of person / mom who like. leaves her love everywhere but can't necessarily stand where she leaves it. yknow #like i could even bring jason into this #i really do think she'd do everything in her power to try to get jason to break from the red hood persona and heal etc #and she'd have immense affection for him #but she's not going to sit and play house and babysit him once she's free and once she knows he's free too #she's very big on personal accountability #so she'd check up on him and the love would be there but like. the bigger picture would always interfere #anywayyyy. thank you for the question i love to ramble about this stuff LOL

48 notes · View notes

fluffyprettykitty · 2 years

Text

rise and shine

Pairing: Bruce Banner x female reader (no other specifications!)

Word Count: 1250 words

Outline: There's only one thing you want, first thing in the morning.

Warnings: explicit oral sex (male receiving), spit play, oral fixation, daddy kink, slight somnophilia, pet names.

Author’s Note: Requested by a nonnie here. :) That was so fun to write, I kid you not <3, I went to severely explicitly explain the ~oral process. 2 more stories for brucey are in the wips!

dividers by @firefly-graphics // banners by @maysdigitalarts

Main Masterlist ・❥・Bruce Banner Masterlist

NSFW UNDER THE CUT. MINORS DNI.

Buenos Aires, Argentina, 8 am.

It had been a week since you had arrived here in the capital of Argentina with your boyfriend and fellow avenger Bruce Banner. The pair of you never missed an opportunity to take a mission together. You had previously been working with SHIELD and once the compound opened you switched to that facility and that’s when you met him.

The goal of the mission was to gather a few samples from key points of the city, research them and then return home. So last night you went to bed a little exhausted after many hours of work. Bruce had ended up coming to bed much later than you and you never even noticed him.

The sun is beaming through the window and you reluctantly open your eyes, with a sigh you turn around to look at the clock on the bedside table and groan at the time. You were in the middle of a very delicious dream and you hated waking up in the middle of it. Blinking several times, you look at the frame of the man sleeping next to you. Serene and calm as usual. Mouth slightly opened, lips plum and inviting always.

As your eyes are darting around his body, taking on his sleepy frame, his stomach breathing in and out, your eyes fixate on his crotch. Oh. You thought to yourself and smirked, looks like you weren’t the only one with naughty dreams. Carefully you reach out to his boxers, slowly pushing them down so you can get a better look, giggling to yourself as more and more hair appeared, strong black curls, till his cock sprung free, hard in attention.

“Look what we got here, baby.”

You muse to yourself, a finger brushing over his length elegantly. Not one to pass on an opportunity like this, you settle yourself better on the bed, to bring your mouth close to his shaft. Using the tips of your fingers you trace the veins on his cock, watching him as he twitches and aches for you until you reached his balls.

“Oh Brucey baby, I want you so bad…”

You muse to yourself, your fingers back on his length. With a firm yet gentle movement you bring his cock closer to your mouth. You wrap your lips around his cock and rest your hands on his thighs thankful he sleeps almost naked. You are moving your hands up and down his inner thighs as your lips engulf his tip and that’s when you hear a mix of groans. You look up to him but he is not fully awake yet. Must have come to bed really late.

He looks absolutely delicious how could you ever resist?

Rhythmically you start to bob your head on his cockhead slowly but very passionately, wanting to drag it for yourself. You had a slight oral fixation and a bit of a cock obsession and Bruce was overly fond of your sentiments. Both of you had woken up the other like this or close to this in the past.

Your technique was to take things slow in all aspects except the fucking properly part. You liked bopping your head down his length for what felts like hours while he had his hand on your head and preferred to keep your arms either on his thighs or his chest. Basically, you preferred using just your mouth, alternating between this and licking and sucking his balls and under the shaft. Switching your eye contact from his beautiful face to his equally beautiful cock.

“I love how your cock feels on my mouth.” You breathe out as you take his cock out of your mouth to breathe a little and that’s when you hear his chuckle.

“Oh, of course, you do. Waking me up so early just for my cock.”

“I’m sorry baby, I couldn’t resist. Your pretty cock looked so lonely there, begging me for some action.” You giggle a little tracing your fingers on his thighs and looking at him as you are holding his cock and licking it with the flat of your tongue.

“Only if I get to fill up that pretty mouth of yours.” His voice is low and raspy, groggy from the lack of sleep and his eyes are so heavy, barely hanging open. With a firm move, you wrap your lips around his head again, relaxing your jaw, and mewling at the taste of him.

You let go of his cock again, only to split a little on it, and then using your lips again wrap it up again. Bopping your head back and forth slowly, his hand comes to sit on the top of your head and you are smiling now looking up at him with doe eyes. That’s exactly what you wanted. Your right hand going to fumble with his balls, your other hand reaching up under his shirt and caressing his hairy chest.

And then you reach down his length, taking him all down your throat, gagging only just a little staying there for a moment as Bruce is groaning your name. You pull out, droll and pre-cum falling off your chin to look at him with lust-filled eyes.

“Do it. Suck me dry, angel. You know you want to.”

That’s all the confirmation you need.

You keep your tongue soft in your mouth while you're moving up and down looking up at him, then switch to using the tip of your tongue to trace his cockhead. Knowing exactly how to work your way around all of his nerve endings, always makes him go crazy. Then using the flat side of your tongue you lick from the bottom of the shaft to the very tip and down again, and throwing a few tongue flicks.

Then you wrap your hand around his shaft. Firmly and possessively. Bringing your mouth very close to his cock you spit once again all over it. Having your hand directly under your mouth you are working now to get him off. Using both your lips and your hands up and down his shaft, you are now sucking fast and deep, eliciting a chorus of moans from him.

His moans are getting louder and louder and you know he is close, he can’t resist your mouth for too long anyway. His hand becomes a little too tight on your head and his hips are bucking up to your mouth and then you can feel it. Ropes and ropes of cum shooting inside your throat, the warmth of it making you moan in response, looking at him lovingly.

“Fucking, hell, Y/N, that dirty fucking mouth of yours.” He murmurs, still groaning as you are easing your head away from him. Using the tips of your fingers you are bringing inside your mouth any cum that fell off your chin and then any that is left on his dick. Then using the flat of your tongue, you lick him all around cleaning him up.

“I just want my daddy happy.” You bemuse, popping a finger off your mouth.

“And how would you like daddy to reward you, sweetheart?” You giggle and reach up to him crushing his lips with yours, kissing him all over his face. “Just give me five minutes baby and I will fill out this beautiful little pussy of yours.”

“Of course, daddy.” You giggle, returning to kissing him all over his face.

And after a good few rounds, you both fell asleep till the afternoon.

if you want to be notified about my future stories please follow my library blog @fluffyprettykittylibrary and turn on notifications!

#bruce banner #bruce banner x reader #the hulk #bruce banner x y/n #bruce banner fanfiction #bruce banner smut #bruce banner x you #bruce x reader #bruce x you #hulk x reader #bruce banner x female reader #bruce banner one shot #bruce smut #the hulk x you #selenewrites

191 notes · View notes

opinated-user · 3 months

Text

first of all, LO, you literally described yourself on the first parragraph. you don't have any respect for any culture, as demostrated for how you treat your "native heritage", but especially none for non western ones. neither the culture or the people for that matter. everytime you have a chance to consider cultural differences or appreciate them, you rolled them into the dirt and claim they don't matter because your own cultural interpretation should be enough. you were the one who in a stream sounded positively giddy at the idea of the USA destroying Japan so throughfully that now there's no real difference between the culture, which means celebrating the total colonization of Japan. that's one of the more openly hateful and disgusting things i have ever heard anyone say about another country, and i'm not even counting the times you refer to the entire country as being filled with pedophiles. second of all... LO, when have you ever looked into any of this? when? because what i have seen, Japanese have a crisis with overworking and people being taken to their absolute limits because of work... since the 90s at least. by saying that it's just capitalism then you ignore the very real history of how the economy of Japan was affected since the first bubble exploded. if it was just "late stage capitalism", then every creative person in the west too would be sleeping on the studios to keep working first hour in the morning and until they literally fell to sleep on the studios. it happens in the west, the reason why people protest for the bad treatment of animators and especial effects people, but it's not nearly as common as it happens in japan. read the accounts of managakas who burned out, were close to it or for some miracle withstand work hours that we can't even imagine here in the west and then tell me it's the same. it's not. in fact, by claiming that there's no cultural factors and it's all some big and vague "late stage capitalism", you're erasing how serious the issue is. you're erasing the culture entirely out of the question and making it about some universal form of capitalism, as if capitalism itself affected all countries and cultures exactly the same around the globe when it very much doesn't do that. how can you say that and pretend like you're not the racist one? third... no, actually, anime wasn't censoring anything. western companies who bought that anime for cheap and thus gave it the bare minimum in term of care censored stuff. Sailor Moon had accidental incest lesbian cousins very obviously in love because of the censorship... something i imagine you were actually pretty okay with. if only they were sisters, then you'd have loved it a lot more. the people who made those animes had nothing to do with that decision, they had no control over how those companies worked. Ghost Stories is an example of a dub company having so much liberty to do whatever they wanted that they completely reinvented the story and characters into something completely different. again, without anyone involved with the original anime having any power to do anything about it or even knowing it was happening. LO keeps having this idea that Japan is making any sort of effort to appeals to westeners and they do not. they make anime for themselves, first and foremost. rather colonialistic mindset to have. so, indeed, those animes were westernized... to avoid queer themes. and it was all done by westeners. once again, this is LO riding the corporate train to avoid blaming those poor defenseless companies and still making it about how the people in Japan are the ones always in the wrong, because she's a racist ignorant white person.

#lily orchard #lily orchard is brownfacing

16 notes · View notes

snowandwolves · 4 months

Note

hey it’s your neighbrohood (i'm not even gonna fix that i like that lol) lengthy ask anon - i am having a shit day but thinking about summer in the lighthouse au with Ava in a tank top and tool belt made me feel better so thank you for that

i have more qs kinda a lot today bc i am just so done with this day but you can pick and choose which (if any!) to answer. hope you have a good weekend ❣️

any thoughts on how Chanel meeting Bea would’ve gone?

did Bea pre-plan to tell Ava at the lookout or did she spontaneously capitalize on Ava already going there?

whose bedroom in the lighthouse house did they sleep in most often?

has Bea seen a storm from the lighthouse before?

D gave Ava new shoes, but did she ever get a new backpack?

that brief reference to Shannon broke my heart - do you have thoughts on how she passed?

do you have thoughts on how Camila and Lilith got together? and how Lilith even learned/chose to barista?

did the “DIBS” moment just come to you in a moment of inspiration or something bc it still makes me giggle just thinking about it

speaking of writing, did you write each section linearly or did you jump around or something else?

your note in the epilogue sounded like you don’t read fic when you’re writing? what's on your to read list?

HI LENGTHY ASK ANON omg, sorry for the late response, it’s been busy and i need a year-long weekend without risking going broke 😂 been itching to respond to this so imma do that now 🥹

1. probably chanel just exposing ava like “so you’re the one she’s been losing brain cells for” and ava just slapping her elbow and being all “omg shut up i trusted you” and bea not wanting ava to feel embarrassed so she’d prolly say “she also has that effect on me” then chanel would stare at them blushing and then say something like “ok that’s adorable. i need a drink and you need to tell me more”

2. she’s definitely been DYING to say it, but then when ava told her that she’s going to the lookout, bea decided to do it there just to give ava a moment she won’t forget 🥺

3. ava’s! because bea’s room is suzanne’s and the things they get up to with a bed nearby is just,,, not for suzanne’s room 😂

4. i’d say yes! though she prolly didn’t intend to. i have it in my head that she just got stranded there while cleaning it and unintentionally gave herself a come-to-jesus moment 💀

5. backpack i think she bought for herself. for some reason, i also have it in my head that she’s in a group chat with her family (salvius clan + chanel) where she asks them for their opinions and everyone choosing the more expensive option and ava being like “pls i’d have to lose a kidney” and everyone in the group chat transferring her various amounts of money and ava just staring at her account like “thank god you’re all rich. now, i’m rich by association” 😂

6. this one, nope, i haven’t actually thought about. let’s say an accident? omg what if that’s a reason why mary doesn’t ride a motorcycle anymore…? it wouldn’t have been her fault but askdnskd ok i hate me 😭

7. so this one gave me a cute scene i ended up daydreaming about 🥹 cos what if camila taught lilith how to make drinks before she got formal training for it and start a cafe? what if, while in the process of making a cappuccino, camila just randomly tells her “i like you a lot”? what if lilith fumbles and accidentally burns herself and camila just giggles and takes lilith’s hand and takes care of it, just waiting for lilith to manage words? 😭 WHAT THEN

8. i definitely planned it to be as hilarious as possible but i also didn’t think i’d be using DIBS for it. that was a fun moment to write 😂

9. my writing process is kind of a mess. i do try to write linearly so i don’t have to worry about pacing and transitions and flow. but then i’m in the middle of work or folding my laundry or literally just eating and a scene/line/whole ass paragraph just comes to me vividly 😂 this is why i have my notes app perpetually open. i write the basics of anything that comes to me and then go back and figure out a way to use it if i can. this is also why i have v many fragments that didn’t make the cut 💀

10. idk if it’s just me but i find it hard to read fic and write my own at the same time 😭 so i have,,, a long list actually. literally anything that’s been published and completed in the last 8 months i’ll be reading 😂

anon, i hope your days have been better since you sent this. you deserve the kindest, gentlest, best days 🥺💙

#ask #projecting the warmest softest vibes to u anon #i just discovered page breaks omg im old

8 notes · View notes

bbg-mikewheeler · 2 years

Text

ST van scene rewrite fic

so i’ve been working on this for a while and i’m not really sure what to do with it, so i’m putting it on here. i apologize for the lack of capitalization. hope someone enjoys this !!

mike is aware of will crying beside him in the van. he can see the reflection of tears in the window, hear the swallowed sobs, feel the seat quivering. but he’s frozen, without an idea of what to do. he’s almost mad at will, for doing this to him, for making him do something. but not as mad as he is at himself. besides, he could never be mad at will. not really. because it’s will. so mike takes a shaky breath, slowly reaches his hand out, and ever-so-gently places it on will’s shoulder. will immediately tenses and turns his head, eyes wide. please, mike thinks, not even sure what he’s begging for. please don’t make this difficult.

“hey,” mike starts, softer than before. “everything’s okay.” he doesn’t know where to begin, or how. they both know everything isn’t okay, but what else is there to say?

will only stares at him, seemingly unsure of what to do. mike almost regrets his decision. there’s nothing else he can say. not here, not now. he hates this, this feeling. he wishes he could continue ignoring it. he’s practically trembling. “everything’s okay,” he helplessly repeats. “i’m here.” will nods.

mike knows Jonathan has been eyeing them through the rearview mirror. he knows he’s the only noise in the van.

mike pulls his hand from will’s shoulder, but hesitates. all he wants is for will to stop being upset. will. that and to shove all his feelings down, to forget everything he feels. but he can only do one of the two, so he brings his raised hand to will’s and gingerly interlocks the two. will. he rapidly glances between their hands on the car seat and mike’s face, then he swallows. will.

in time, both boys turn back to their respective windows, the rest of the ride passing in silence. neither boy moves his hand.

…

*post-pizza dough freezer scene (mike, will, and max help el without the cursed ily monologue)*

…

things in hawkins are worse than usual. both in terms of the town itself, and it’s inhabitants. mike has been distracting himself with volunteering and such, but his mind wanders…

as the byers’ house was destroyed in what the town believed to be an earthquake, Joyce is staying at hopper’s and her sons at the wheeler’s, Jonathan with nancy and will with mike. so will has been sleeping on mikes floor for a week and some. mike keeps meaning to let will share the bed, but he can’t bring himself to ask. he should be used to sleepovers with will by now, they had countless as kids. he shouldn’t feel like this every night. like he’s holding back. he can hardly stand to be alone with will anymore.

mike has been spending time with el, despite their being broken up. el shocked everyone when she told mike they were better off as friends, and mike stunned everyone when he wholeheartedly agreed. he hasn’t yet explained why he’s so okay with it, how he isn’t more bothered by his first-ever girlfriend breaking up with him. he just keeps himself busy.

…

tonight will comes into mikes room late, tiptoeing so as not to wake the seemingly sleeping boy in the bed.

as will shifts in his sleeping bag, attempting to get comfortable, mike’s voice breaks the quiet. “are you up?”

“yeah, i’m up,” will whispers into the darkness.

silence. “mike?”

“yeah,” mike speaks up again, his voice barely there. he wonders if here is the best place to be doing this, but it’s probably the only time he’ll get the guts to. it’s easier to talk to will when i can’t see him. i can’t say anything to that face. he tries not to dwell on it. he can’t go back now. “i’m here. i’m…” a pause. a sigh. “i just- i wanted to say, i’m sorry. for the past week. and past year. past couple of years, really. i’ve been so… distant, and quiet, and you don’t deserve that, and…” his voice grows faint. jesus, i’m the worst.

will is noiseless, but his heavy breaths give him away as awake and attentive.

mike continues, “it’s really all my fault. everything has been…. a lot, lately, and i haven’t handled it the best way. so. i'm sorry.” a deep breath. i’m rambling. “will? say something?” he murmurs.

“uh, i don’t,” will starts. “i don’t know what to say, mike.” he swallows. “thanks, for that. um, it’s okay, you know, i- i forgive you. i can obviously… understand, being overwhelmed, with everything that’s been going on.”

mike turns in his bed, leaning near the edge to see will in the unlit room. mike can roughly make out the outline of the other boy’s face, a hand rested over his forehead. will rubs his eyes, then runs the hand through his hair. he turns his head to find mike watching him from the bed. they lock eyes, straining to see through the dark. “goodnight, mike,” will utters, sounding beyond tired.

“goodnight.” mike turns the other way, unsatisfied with his attempted apology, unable to sleep peacefully.

…

the next days pass quickly and routinely for mike. volunteer, work on hopper’s cabin, avoid spending time with will, lay awake at night, repeat.

after a few days come and go like this, mike enters his room to find el on the bed. “hi el! what’re you…” he starts, but trails off when he sees her admiring the painting on his wall. he hung up the picture will painted as soon as they got home. he likes being able to look at it whenever he needs to. inspecting it now, he realizes it’s slightly crooked. it must’ve slipped.

“i just want to say hello,” el replies, peeling her eyes from the wall to mike, who was rummaging through his desk drawers. “hello,” she smiles at mike.

“hello,” he smiles back, having reemerged with thumbtacks, but his eyes stay focused on the painting. he stands on the bed, adjusting the paper and reinserting thumbtacks.

“hey, i never got to thank you for this painting,” mike had been meaning to bring it up, but the time has never been right. plus el never mentioned it. “it meant a lot to me- i mean, it still means a lot, it actually gave me the strength to help you get free from vecna, with what little help i gave, and it’s just so perfect, even though it was super romantic, and- and i’m rambling, i’m sorry.” el is silent. “what i mean to say is i love it a lot, so, thank you.” mike turns to el, having successfully fixed the painting’s placement. she squints at him.

“i did not make that painting.” el’s confusion is palpable in her tone. her eyes dart from mike to the picture and back.

“oh, well, yeah, i know you didn’t make it,” mike trips over his words. “just, like, commissioned it and stuff.” mike, embarrassed, suddenly feels as if he’s done something wrong.

“what does… ‘commissioned’ mean?” el shows no signs of aid for him.

“you know, to ask to have a painting made or something, like how you asked will for this for me…” mike watches el’s face for sign of recollection. she gives none, so mike trudges on, “it’s okay, will told me, uh, about how you told him what to paint and, and, he gave it to me and told me how you felt and how…” his rant dwindles. is this some joke? how could she not know what she said?

el tilts her head at mike. “i did not do any of that,” she admits. “will never even let me see the paining when he was working on it.” so this painting is the one from el’s letter, the one will made for- mike sits down on the bed beside el, not looking up from his hands. the silence stretches.

“i will go now, mike,” el stands and walks to the door, then looks back. “but i think you should talk to will,” she tells him before closing the door behind her.

mike doesn’t move for a while. he knows he needs to speak with will. he wants to. he just needs a minute to catch his breath. he needs to think about…. everything. he can’t think about anything. if el didn’t think of, ask for, even know the contents of the painting, that means will lied. how much of what he said was a lie? what did he mean? does that mean… no. stop. he couldn’t let himself imagine. dream. hope. don’t.

he’s sure he’s just overthinking the whole situation. this doesn’t mean anything. will just exaggerated, or slipped up, or made up the whole thing to give me the push i needed to save el, my girlfriend, his sister for god’s sake. this was about el, for el, not me. yeah. i’m just overthinking. snap out of it, mike.

as he finally lifts himself off the bed, the door swings back open. “oh, hey,” will greets and walks past a frozen-in-place mike. “i was just grabbing the paintbrushes.” will explains. mike’s heart skips a beat at “paintbrushes”. i should really say something. say something. come on. will turns to mike, having retrieved a couple large paintbrushes left on mike’s floor, and sees what he takes as a look of confusion. “for hop’s cabin…” will raises his eyebrows. “mike, are you okay?”

mike squeezes his eyes shut and open. “yeah, yeah, i’m fine.” i can’t. not now. he clears his throat. “i should help out with the cabin, just, um, give me a few minutes to.. get ready, and i’ll come down and meet you guys there.” he can still see the concern on wills face, but mike shoos him out before he asks any more questions.

that wasn’t what you were supposed to do. mike grabs his already packed bag. why can’t you just talk to him? he tugs his sneakers on and works on the laces. it shouldn’t be this hard. stop making this so hard. he slips out of the door and makes his way to the cabin.

will is busy at work on the wall paint when mike arrives, so he’s easy to evade. mike hates that he’s actively avoiding will, but he can’t bring himself to do anything just yet. his head is a mess. he tries to block it all out with the work. he’s successful until it’s too late to work and his mom makes him turn in for the night, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

mike enters his room to a wordless will curled up in the sleeping bag on the floor. mike can’t take it anymore. “hey,” his voice is low. will turns.

“hey,” comes his reply. a beat. then, “do we only talk in the late hours of the night now?” will’s whispered question takes mike by surprise. it was true, but he had hoped will wouldn’t take notice.

“yeah, i guess so,” mike tries to laugh it off. “sorry about that.” he adds sheepishly. please don’t read too much into it.

“so, uh,” mike continues, “you- well, i was thinking… you really should use the bed.” he tries to ignore will’s widened eyes in the dark.

“mike-“

“will. it’s a big bed, and it’s so unfair and dumb for you to sleep on the floor right next to it. plus, we’ve shared beds tons of times as kids. it’ll be fine.” mikes words are as much for himself as they are for will. it’ll be fine, he repeats. you’ll be fine. just don’t get too close.

will deliberates for a moment, looking between his current sleeping bag and pillow on the floor and mike’s warm, comfortable bed. he slowly sighs, steps out of the sleeping bag, and grabs his pillow. he eyes the bed again. “so..”

mike pulls his comforter back and makes space for will, who meticulously slips into the bed, his back to mike. “this is much better than the floor,” will admits. “thank you.”

mike is hit with a wave of guilt for not doing this much sooner. he never should have let will sleep on the floor. you were being selfish. “yeah, um- of course.” he pushes the thoughts out of his brain. “goodnight.”

“mm,” will mutters in response.

mike is careful to keep his distance from the boy’s body next to him. he doesn’t sleep for a long time, plagued with continual thoughts of beds and paintings and road-trips in vans and girlfriends and california and best friends. when he finally passes out, he hasn’t moved positions.

…

most mornings mike slips out of his room before will wakes up. will has always been a heavy sleeper, making this an easy task.

as mike awakes this particular morning, he’s greeted with will’s sleeping face approximately 3 inches from his own and his arm thrown over mike’s body.

mike scrambles to separate himself from will without waking him. mike pushes his body against the corner of the bed, opposite of will, oblivious to mikes panicked state.

something keeps mike from leaving bed this morning. for one, leaving would mean climbing over will’s body, something mike is not up for attempting. secondly, they really do need to talk. he can’t keep putting it off forever.

afraid of what might happen if he slept again, mike doesn’t let his eyes shut. left without many other options, he lays on his pillow, gazing at will.

he doesn’t often allow himself simply look at will. it hurts too much. but will just looks so soft in the mornings. now, he lets his eyes trace along will’s long eyelashes, the curve of his nose, the dip between his nose and lips, the fullness of his parted li- no. stop. mike presses his eyes shut. he is in your bed right now. this isn’t fair to him. stop it mike.

he turns to face the wall, silently cursing himself for letting his guard down. he said he wouldn’t let himself do this again. he can’t. he couldn’t do that to will. all mike could do was wait for him to wake up.

after what feels like hours to mike, which he spent noiselessly tossing and turning, he caught will’s eyes fluttering open. mike makes sure he’s a reasonable distance from him, then waves a hand by will’s face. “took you long enough,” mike says playfully.

“mm,” will slurs, “morning.” he rubs his eyes, then looks back at mike as if he hadn’t really noticed he was there. “you’re still here.”

so he noticed that, too. mike gives half a smile.

“um, why?” will questions. “sorry, that sounded mean,” he backtracks. “i’m just not used to it.”

“yeah, well, um,” mike is at a loss. he spent so much time not thinking about this moment, he forgot to plan out this moment entirely. “so, yeah, so…” pull yourself together. “we kinda need to talk.” this gets will’s attention. both boys sit up on the edge of the bed.

“i’ve been putting it off because, well, i don’t really know what to say, or how, or-“ mike decides he most certainly has a rambling problem. “anyway. i was talking to el, and, okay, she sent me this letter before spring break, telling me all about this painting you were working on, that you wouldn’t even let her see, and so, yesterday, she’s looking at my painting, right, the one you painted, that she asked for, and i’ve been meaning to thank her, so i do, and she doesn’t know what i’m talking about, and…” mike’s speech grows stifled. “did… you lie to me? in the van, when you said el commissioned the painting, and- all those things she felt… about me, was that all… a lie?” mike finally spits out the question.

will is quiet. painfully quiet. he hasn’t met mikes eyes since the beginning of his speech. will delicately turns from mike, sitting up on the edge of the bed, staring down at his hands.

mike’s sort of out of steam, out of things to say or do. his throat feels like it’s closed up. it’s all he can do to sit up next to will and wait.

after what feels like an eternity of uncomfortable silence, will lets out a noise like a swallowed whimper. it twists mike’s heart. he just has to turn to will, look him in the eyes, take will’s hands in his own. will’s eyes continue focusing on them.

“i’m so sorry, mike,” he croaks out. “i- i didn’t know what to do. i just, i made that stupid painting, and- and… i don’t know, you needed it, and you needed it from el, so i gave that to you, and… the rest just happened! i wasn’t thinking properly. i was so worried about el, and you two needed each other, and…” will gasps for air. “i’m sorry.”

his eyes finally travel up to mike’s, who is intently staring him down, face painted with distress.

“why- why are you sorry?” mike rasps, fighting the dryness taking over his mouth. “will, don’t be sorry. please. i did need that. your painting, your words. i needed that.” mike steels himself for his next concession. it’s now or never. “i needed that… from you.” his voice is hardly a whisper. “i think, somewhere in the back of my mind, in my chest, even, i maybe wanted it to come from you. and maybe i was a little disappointed, when it didn’t.” he drops will’s hands in shame.

“well,” will lets out softly, between heavy breaths. “what- what if it did? come from me, i mean.”

mike’s breath catches, the weight of wills words hitting him slowly. does that mean will- before he can do anything, though he doesn’t have the slightest idea what he’d do, will is pulling him from the bed by the arm. “there’s something i want to show you.”

mike blindly follows will outside, only stopping to slip on their shoes. he’s not one to say no to will. the pajama clad boys ride their bikes down to hoppers cabin, where will pulls mike inside. he’s lead to the very back, to a boarded up room he assumed nobody used. he watched as will pushed back the boards with some difficulty, creating an opening just big enough for the boys to slip through, one after the other.

the space was cramped and dark. will messed with a floor lamp along the wall, causing the light to flicker on and fill the room. mike peered around it, until the wall caught his eye. it held a large pinned up piece of linen. just under it, a mess of paint tubes and brushes. mike swivels his head to will, who looks back at him with a small but genuine smile.

“come here,” will breaks the silence held since the house, stepping towards the cloth. mike follows. his eyes examine the painting before him. it’s so lovely.

“you… made this?” mike asks in awe. he can make out will nodding, though he’s unable to peel his eyes from the painting. the half-painted scene is of will and himself as kids, on a swing set, the sunset blazing behind them. the day we met…

“oh will…” he finally manages to pull his eyes from the painting to wills own. “it’s beautiful. i love it.”

this gets a bashful smile out of will. “i’ve been working on it since we got back, ever since i could get my hands on some paints again. i wasn’t going to show it to you, or anyone, but…” his voice trails off. “it, um, it isn’t finished yet, by the way.” mike nods along.

“um, in the van,” will tone drops. “i didn’t plan to lie to you. i- i just didn’t want to make things complicated, put more weight on you. but i so badly wanted to be honest. i wanted to tell you… tell you i…” will’s voice now completely disappears.

mike reaches his hand towards wills, interlocking the two. it brings him right back to the van. “i… wanted to be honest too,” mike confides. “i just didn’t know how, with argyle and jonathan right there, and everything you said about el”

“what- what would you have said?” will whispers the question.

“i would’ve told you…” mike’s voice grows quieter, but his face grows closer to will’s. “that what ‘el’ said about me feels familiar. it’s the way i feel, too. just not for her.” their faces inch closer, closer, closer. “i feel that way… for you,” the confession spills out of him. “i missed you, will. i’m lost without you, and i’m so, so scared of losing you, and i’ll always need you too, because-“

mike takes a sharp breath, his and will’s mouths mere inches apart. it’s barely audible when mike murmurs, “because i’m in love with you.” there it is.

will’s eyes widen and his expression softens all at once. mike can feel will’s breath on his lips. it’s dizzying.

“mike- i…” his gaze drops towards mike’s lips. mike takes it as a sign to do the thing he can’t seem to get off his mind.

he bridges the small gap between their lips.

will stands very still. so still, mike worries that he’s got it all wrong, that he’s made a horrible mistake, and he almost pulls away.

but then will’s eyes close and his hands travel to mike’s hair, his fingers running through and gripping it, and mike feels as if he’s melting into will, into his longing. it’s better than he could’ve ever imagined- and he’s imagined it quite a bit.

his hands rise to will’s back, his shoulders, his jaw. all the places mike has dreamed of touching, stroking, grasping, he does. he never wants his lips to leave will’s.

when they finally do, it’s only to gasp for air.

mike’s eyes flutter open to find a wide-eyed, red-faced will staring at him. the boys share a smile, private and gentle.

“mike…” will lets out, a sparkle in his eye. “i love you too.” mike has never felt such relief. he can’t believe this was happening to someone like him.

“i have, for so long, i just-“ will continues, “i never though i would get to have you.”

he gives a small gasp as mike pulls him into a hug. it’s not long before will wraps his own arms around mike.

“me too, will. me too,” mike gently whispers into wills ear. “i’m sorry it took me so long.” i’m so sorry, he wants to say, but he feels will shake his head.

“it doesn’t matter now, mike. i’m here.” though it didn’t seem possible, the hug tightens. “mike. i’m yours,” will breaths out.

“and i’m yours.”

#hope yall like this #byler fanfic #byler fanfiction #byler #mike wheeler #will byers #stranger things #st4 #st4 rewrite #stranger things fanfiction #st4 fanfic #byler confession #byler kiss #byler canon

74 notes · View notes