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istherewifiinhell · 1 year

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banging my head against the wall. does anyone wanna go insane and read TMNT Mirage #37 with me? An emotionally fraught jouney of faith and family and battling for or against your roots of eons past? You should. But if your not in for reading a 40 page comic I have a condensed visual/textual moments and summation for you! You might enjoy it!

[Mirage 37, Rick McCollum and Bill Anderson]

ID: Turtles walking through a forest with full camping bags. Mikey has his mask around his neck and wears a bucket hat: Well..." Raph wears a wide brimmed fedora type hat, he balances one sai by its point on his finger: "You do got a point, buddy." Leo is shadowed in the back with a straw hat. END

[In this comic the turtles are depicted with understated beaks and look lankier than Classic Mirage style. Their skin is usually in the darker of the 2 toners, and their masks are left without toner.]

ID: From behind the group, Don and Mikey in silhouette up front. Behind them, Raph is throwing his sai in the air. Leo is saying "I believe you Don, but... Spiritual meaning? Maybe you're reading too much into it." Close on Don's face, frowning "No, I'm not." END.

[See Donatello: The Ring, in Turtle Soup #2] Here's what you missed: Don went on a spiritual journey by himself. Now he wants them all to experience it.

ID: Three turtles and Splinter in the farm house living room. Raph and Mikey on the couch with books, Leo on the floor polishing his sword. Splinter standing to the side. Raph: Yeah, but Casey's car's on the blink. Mike: I hope its doesn't fall apart while he's out with April. Leo: Don will fix it when he returns. Raph has one leg up, is tossing some shuriken in one hand, his books says "Fun with sai". Mike slouches and has a drink can, his book is "Life of Bruce Lee" END

ID: Three Panels of Don explaining his experience in front of a large fire, fiddling with his bo staff, the flames curl around him as he speaks. A brow raised: But it wasn't the trees- It was one of us! The Father of All Reptiles Looking contemplative: He was a turtle. Or a ghost. Some kind of spirit... With a sheepish smile: And I'm glad I met him. He said I was special... END

Splinter reprimands the other turtles for not taking Don seriously. His lecture:

"Your lack of respect is unbecoming. Have I so failed you that you have no feel for your heritage, your roots? Reptiles ruled this world for uncounted eons, your people strode the land, slipped through the warm seas, and skittered about the sky. Though gone, their blood is your blood. And their spirit should be yours! They are your elders, with their bones left in the rock, lasting forever in the skin of the world. Respect them, and honor their spirits as you do me!" "Recall the time you spent, eons past, with your friend Renet. How you spoke of it once you'd returned! Did you not feel a sense of unity with that time? Did you not resonate to the heart-beat of the archosaurs? Your enthusiasm lingered for weeks."

[See Tales of TMNT 7] They went back in time and met dinosaurs, amongst other things.

ID: Panels with a close up on each character. April in profile, with a solemn look: You babbled on about it for days. Mike smiling wide: Yeah! It was warm! Leo, clutching his sword, looking away: I felt so free! Raph, his mask pushed up to his forehead, an eyes closed smile: Three months of fishing! Don, holding his staff, looking down: Yes, I was... Happy. END

Splinter continues to speak.

"Happiness…Ah, Donatello, it is so ephemeral. As was the time of those reptiles. Everything is a ring, and the ring turns. The world grew cold, small, furry creatures came out of the shadows. The dinosaurs died. The age of mammals began."

Raph, upset, gets disparaging about what the predominance of mammals has done to the earth.

ID: Three panels. Raph, shocked, hand over his mouth: I can't believe I said that. Splinter looming over Raph, who jerks back. Splinter: ~Think~ before~ you~ speak~ Raphael! Raph: I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Splinter: Need I remind you that your best friend Casey Jones is a mammal? Close on Raph and April. Splinter off panel: Not to mention myself? Raph: Eep! April grimacing: I'm feeling warm-blooded and hairy also! END

ID: Four panels. Caption box: And look they do— Raph looking at two trees growing diagonally, thinking: I don't even know what I'm looking for. Leo, partially hidden behind foliage, thinking: Something's up. I feel... something. Mike, looking at a tree that's grown a loop in its trunk, thinking: Is this a "spiritual experience?" Don, walking through the trees in silhouette thinking: Why can't I find the place?" END

After a day of searching, they camp, but Mike goes missing during his watch in the night.

ID: Two panels, each showing Raph and Don and they face off and argue, their speech bubbles placed between them. Raph is backed up against a tree, angry, clenching his sais tightly. Don has his bo like a walking stick, and seems calmer.

Raph: Why? Mike needs us! Don, with an irregular speech bubble: Either he is alive or he is dead. The quest is more important. R: What are you talking about? What's wrong with you? D, normal bubble: Nothing. I had a dream last night. If we give up the quest, we've lost. R: Mike is more important! D: That's what the adversary hopes you think. R: What adversary? D, irregular bubble: Have Faith. R: Donatello! D, regular bubble: Remember when you devovled? We kept faith. R, yelling: AAARGH! END

[See Mirage 24-26] Raph was de-mutated into a regular turtle, his brothers had to go on a journey to save him.

ID: Leo, mask off, scowling "This is what we'll do. Break camp. Consolidate our gear. Bury what's left. We're on a combat mission now. We'll keep faith, Don, but--. A narrow panel of Don, drawn small, gripping his staff: What? Leo getting in Don's face, displeased: I hate leaving Mike. -- Just make sure you're right. END

Raph goes missing on their second nights watch, Don becomes stranger and more convicted about this quest.

ID: Leo, furiously, points in the direction of the viewer, accusing Don. "What's with you? Why are you so out of it?! -- What's wrong with your voice? [Larger text] Don't you care about Mike or Raph?! END

ID: Don sits facing away from Leo, gripping his staff, angry, speaking towards his hands. Leo looks on from a ways back, dramatically lit. Don: [Large text] Of course I do! [Normal text] But... I don't know what's wrong with my voice. I don't know who the Adversary is. And yet..." END

ID from alt: Two panels, Leo glaring, getting in Don's face, pointing at his beak, grabbing Don's staff. "Who told you this?" Don has brows raised. Don, with a wincing smile: "The Father of us all." END

ID: Multiple panels. Close on Leo, "Remember what I said about being sure?" Don holding his staff in front of himself, seemingly scared, "Leo, please." Mid on Leo, more neutral frown, "Don..." Full body, Leo turns away, the wind picks up. Leo facing away, pulled back shot. "Let's keep going." END

Narration as they travel further into stranger and stranger territory.

Leonardo: What was to be a relaxing romp has become a grueling death march. Sweating and hacking through the threatening undergrowth, he understands that he is hopelessly lost. As lost as Donatello seems to be, following an Unknown pull, mumbling to somebody only he can hear Donatello: while Leonardo must fight the wild landscape, he slips easily through the thorns. And he listens, and talks. Hair is better than scales? The birds are traitors, having stolen the secret of hot blood? Giants, brought low by small, furry ones? As he pursues the silent beckoning, he learns...

They have a run in with a foe in pitch black forest. They take many hits but score one back, severing one limb, hairy and clawed, then retreat. Don garbs himself in some make shift religious fair, using his blanket, mud and ash. The two sleep, they dream.

And they dream the same dream. They see their blood rise and rule. The ring is turning. The reptiles differentiate, and claim the seas and air. They see their family as it might have become- If the ring hadn't broken. They feel contempt for their children, the birds, as they invade the skies. But it is nothing compared to the fear which the small hairy ones bring. The furry horde had been around since the reptiles beginnings- swarming… unstoppable.

ID: Three panels. Caption Box: The morning brings questions. Leo and Don sit with their backs to a tree. Don's taken his mask off, made a dark markings on his face and body, and wears a hood. Leo: Did you dream-? Don: Yes. Leo looks upset, gestures with a hand in front of himself. "I... felt grief. Anguish. They must be let loose. -- But why? And how?" Don's face is completely shadowed by his hood, his eyes and teeth stick out in far too much detail. It is an unsettling smile. "You're starting to learn." END

Another fight, Don's leg is broken by the mammalian Adversary. Leo, with all the weight of the loss of his brothers, takes position to make a last stand protecting him. But Don urges him to continue on, to find and aid the Father of all Reptiles.

ID: Many panels, Don injured, propped against a tree. Eyes closed in pain he says "Can't you hear?" Leo looks behind them. A strange voice says "Come." Close on Don, crying, yelling at Leo "Go! Please! I have faith in you!" Leo's eyes, frowning. Leo's hand, offering his sword. Leo's eyes, he's crying through his mask. "Take this." Don's hand taking the sword from Leo. Narrow panel, Leo walks away, remaining sword drawn. "Fight well." END

ID: A cut off panel with dialogue, and a close on Leo, framed between two rocks, crying heavily. The says: You have become one with sorrow. You are sad. I am glad. Now we may speak. END

Leo climbs and the conversation continues.

Narration: There are sounds behind him, as he climbs. Voice: Your brother Donatello gave me joy when we met. I thought it would release me from my grief. Narration: Following him as he scampers every higher. Voice: I tried to go. But joy is ephemeral-- Narration: Leonardo reaches the top with haste. Voice: While melancholy lasts forever.

Leo sits at the mountain peak, thinks of his brothers, contemplates the sounds of the Adversary below and the Father of all Reptiles speaks to him more, as he falls into sleep.

This is my nexus, my holy spot. This is my prison, where I am trapped by my sadness. Dream of extinction. Dream of death. Once we were, now we are not. You and yours are what we could have been-- Had not the hairy ones come. All the scaly brethren are my children… But they hairy ones killed them-

Leo wakes slowly to a growl, then all at once with a yelp.

ID: Full page, the Father of all reptiles finishes in a yell. "THEY ATE MY EGGS!" The mammalian Adversary's loud growl just under the speech bubble. It looms in the panel, over Leo at the bottom, his sword drawn. The Adversary, large and rodent like, fur dark, eyes gleaming, foam dripping from its mouth. One arm severed and still bleeding, implanted in it are the weapons from Leo's brothers. Raph's sai in its leg, Mike's nunchaku in the stub of its arm, Don's staff and Leo's other sword in its chest. Other small rodents cling to its form. Surrounding the image, marginalia in the corners. Cracked eggs up top, rodents in the bottom. And a border of text, listing eras, genera and species of or relating to early mammals. END

Leo's brothers, injured, wounds wrapped and broken limbs braced, are following his trail. They see signs in the sky, Mikey thinks it looked like a massive turtle. Don is assured with his faith that this means the Father of All Reptiles is aiding Leo, and that they should rest. Mike and Raph leave him to sit at the mountain base (offering him another weapon for protection), and make their way up.

Narration: At the pinnacle, a warm, fresh breeze wafts downward. The trees below grow normal. Throughout the world, fossil Mesozoic eggs break apart, as fetal reptile souls are let loose. Paleontologists will find no more intact eggs. EVER.

ID: Full page panel, Leo sits at the base of the giant cracked egg of the Father of All Reptiles. Sword dangling, he's exhausted, blood splatters him, his sword, and the mottled surface of the egg shell. The Adversary's head and remaining hand are laying to one side, the dark mass of fur on his other. His brothers cresting the peak see him, and he says "We freed him. The wheel is moving again. The ring is whole." Caption box: And whole, the ring moves on. A Marginalia drawing in the corner shows a small rodent, the front of its body inside the cracked shell of an egg. END

#some shit #tmnt #tmnt mirage #wifi blogs mirage #<- more posts like this. and less like this. there #turbles...#pretty please someone be insane about this with me? i just think its sooooooooo #my heart hurts thinking about them yearning for when the earth might have been better suited for beings like them.#and the tension between don having this true like spiritual experience and their family bonds.#NORMALLY. im against stories making any of the turtles be skeptics. especially for mirage. it just comes off a little strange. with all #they've been thru. BUT I THINK THIS ONE REALLY SELLS IT. it really sells what they would be willing to go along with but also plenty of #reasons they would push back too. and maybe it seems a little corny. but i really like it just being. reptile specific.#instead of filtering some real cultures believes into the comic. not that it cant be done just. this is the 90s.#and none of the writers have really had the chops whove done it so far (and a non insig. number have.)#anyway what i say about the leatherhead issue. I love when don gets main character syndrome. SAD BOY.#really just a very very characterful issue i like it so much. when i saw the back cover again after reading. i got startled by the red mask #cause i forgot this was mirage. NOT. need to be clear. that i dont think TONES of mirage is also this characterful. just like.#the sort of. amalgamation in my head took over. also they sounded like 03 while i was reading. due to. don angst.#so so so long. 2 LAST THINGS #should outs to the other brother for the words help in second to last image. he came in clutch!#and i would just really like to redirect everyones attention to raphs smile in image 5. he has dimples! (turtle dimples...)#oh shit 3rd last thing. guess which image was scaring the shit outta be when i tired to sleep. 👁👄👁

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beskarandblasters · 7 months

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Tell me how it’s lookin’, babe

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: Thank you to @planet-marz1 for sending the discord this image because that’s what inspired all this 😵‍💫 Gifs are by @bestintheparsec and banners + dividers are by @saradika 🖤

Summary: You see Din in just his flight suit and don’t know how to act.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, helmet stays on, porn with little plot, pet names (cyar’ika for you, baby for Din), tattooed!Din, shy!Din, uncircumcised!Din, body worship, oral sex (M receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, half ass editing 😔, no use of y/n

It’s been another long, exhausting day. All you can think about is peeling your clothes off your sweaty body and crawling into Din’s bunk… And dumping the sand out of your boots. Maker, you really don’t care for Tatooine.

The walk across the desert is laborious, but soon enough the Razor Crest appears in the distance, like a mirage before your eyes. You pick up the pace, anxious to feel some air conditioning already. Before you know it Din’s lowering the exit ramp and you’re back inside the cool metal interior of the Crest. You slip off your boots and leave them by the door before heading to the bunk. You don’t hesitate to shed layers of clothes as you walk, tossing them into a pile on the floor at the foot of the cot. It’s nothing new for Din, he’s seen you naked countless times now. But you look over at him, leaning in the door frame by the bunk, and covered in layer after layer…

“You’re not… hot?” you ask him.

“…What do you mean?”

“Like sweaty, Din.”

“Oh… Yes.”

“You don’t ever wanna take all that off? Not the helmet of course. But even just the armor?”

“I guess I could.”

“Only if you’re comfortable,” you reassure him, taking a step closer to him and placing your hand on the hollow part of his helmet. He rests his hand on top of yours and says, “I am.”

You nod, looking deep into the T-shaped visor and take a step back so he can start to remove his armor, his weapons, and his cape. It’s methodical and meticulous the way he does it, each piece carefully removed and placed into a small pile on the floor.

And now he’s standing before you, wearing only his boots and his flight suit. He looks hot in his armor, there’s no question about that. But now that he’s just in his flight suit you can see his form so much better; his biceps, his chest, his thighs, everything. You’re fully staring at him, mouth agape and eyes full of lust and admiration. He’s all yours.

“Cyar’ika?” he says, breaking your trance.

“Hm?”

“What are you looking at?”

“You.”

You hear his breath hitch under the helmet. You take a step closer again and run your hands along the fabric of the flight suit. His visor follows the movement of your hand, running along his chest and down his arms. You look down and there’s a bulge growing in his flight suit.

“How do I look?” he says softly.

“So kriffing good, Din.”

“Really?”

“Of course you do,” you respond, moving your hand down to his groin. He lets out a strained “cyar’ika” as you palm his cock over his flight suit.

“Feel like shedding another layer?” you ask with a grin.

“You want to see me like that?”

“Baby, I’ve been dreaming about it.”

“You mean that?”

“Mhm,” you say, feeling the wetness grow between your legs.

“I guess I could take it off.”

“Only if you want to,” you reassure him, meeting his gaze again.

“I’m sure,” he says with a small nod.

He takes off his gloves, tossing them by the pile of beskar the corner before slipping off his boots. You follow the movement of his hands, realizing this is the first of his skin you’re seeing other than his cock. His hands are calloused, peppered with small scars from years of training, fighting, and bounty hunting.

And now it’s time for the flight suit to come off. He takes a deep breath and unzips it, stepping out of it and again tossing it by the pile of armor in the corner. His cock springs free as he releases it from the fabric, hard and sticking straight out. His whole figure is broad, his limbs toned and muscular. There’s more scars like the ones on his hands. Some are smaller and paler in color. Some are deeper, their edges more irregular. He’s got some beauty marks as well, each of them scattered about in his chest and arms, down to his legs. On his left bicep he has a tattoo, a simple black ring encircling his upper arm. It suits him well. He’s just beautiful, every feature of his telling a part of his history. And you’d like to know more.

You’ve had thoughts in the past that seeing Din completely naked with just his helmet on might be a weird sight, but now that it’s here in front of you it just feels right; a sliver of intimacy you and only you will ever know, even if you can’t see his face.

“Din… you’re beautiful,” you say, hands immediately gravitating to his sides.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Oh but I do,” you say, one hand roaming up his torso and to his chest, while the other moves down to his cock.

He says nothing, his visor fixed on your hand stroking his cock.

“Let me show you,” you say softly.

You sink to your knees and kiss along his groin. He lets out a soft groan every time you inch closer to his cock. You bring a hand to his balls and cup them lightly before finally swirling your tongue around the head of his cock, sliding it underneath the foreskin to draw a sharper moan from him. He curses under his breath and runs a hand through your hair, desperate for more.

And finally, you give it to him, taking his length in your mouth. The grip on your hair tightens as you bob your head up and down, all while you’re still cupping his balls. You look up at him, making eye contact with his visor as you suck him off. All of a sudden his balls tighten up in your hand and his cock twitches in your mouth. He’s going to cum soon but you’re not ready for that just yet. You pull your mouth away much to his chagrin as he lets out a soft whimper when you do.

“On the cot, baby,” you say, wiping the drool dripping from your chin.

He lies down on the cot and you move to straddle him, his cock glistening with his pre cum and your spit resting by your cunt. He brings a hand to your entrance, stroking it up and down with his fingers and spreading around your wetness. His fingers circle around your clit, working you up and making you more anxious to sit on it already. And eventually, you just can’t take it anymore.

You move his hand away, pinning it up by his helmet while you inch forward and sink down onto his cock. You’ve ridden him before but now you get to rest his hands on his bare chest for once. And you do, the warmth of his skin radiating against your palms as you rock your hips back and forth. His hands move to your waist, giving the skin a soft squeeze while you drive his cock deeper inside you.

“Kriff, cyar’ika,” he curses, coming out as a moan.

“Mmm, you feel so good. Kriff, you look so good, Din,” you respond, tears stinging your vision as you look into his visor. It’s hard to stay fixed on his visor for long, though. Your eyes want to roam his body. They keep gravitating towards the tattoo on his bicep.

“And when did you get this?” you ask, fingers grazing the tattooed skin.

“A long time ago. You like it?”

“Mhm. Maybe you should get more.”

“Oh, yeah? You’d like that?”

“I’d love that.”

Kriff, now you’re thinking of Din with more tattoos and your mind starts going hazey at the thought. You grind your hips against him, feeling the wetness seep out of you and down his shaft, soaking his groin. The small bunk is filled with the obscene noises of skin colliding with skin and the wet sound of his cock moving in and out of you.

Soon enough, you’re at the edge of orgasm thanks to Din’s cock hitting all the deepest angles inside you, the sight of his bare body beneath yours and the thought of him with tattoos.

“Din, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper.

“Mm, let me feel it, cyar’ika.”

A tingling sensation originates at your core and spreads outwards. The movement of your hips grow erratic as you ride out your high, the pool of wetness beneath you growing bigger as you cum. Your own orgasm triggers Din’s and soon you’re both coming together. His cum spills inside you and his grip on your waist tightens as he moans your name.

But now you’re resting against his chest, his cock still inside you and starting to go soft. Your bodies are slick with sweat as you catch your breath. You whisper beside his helmet, “You should get naked more often.”

“I bet you’d like that.”

“Oh come on, you know I would.”

He chuckles, “I know, cyar’ika. I know.”

He rubs your back and soon enough you’re both falling asleep, letting the exhaustion from the day and the evening’s activities finally get to you. You could spend the rest of your days like this.

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#din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #din djarin one shot #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #starwarsficnetwork #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories

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whiskygoldwings · 10 days

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Letting Go

Fox stares at his feet.

When they’d arrived here, Rex had insisted, with a mischievous curl to his lips, that they removed their boots before stepping onto the beach. Fox had protested, loudly and at length. But Wolffe had knocked shoulders with him and told him to trust Rex’ika.

He did. Trust Rex. Just… None of the Corries had given up their armour yet. It still felt like they were on eggshells, waiting for this mirage of peace to be ripped from them. Even when Chancellor Organa had gently insisted on the Coruscant Guard taking leave off planet, Fox hadn’t actually believed that it was anything less than a mission, just neatly packaged with promises of reconciliation with his batchmates.

Fox stares down at his feet; the naked, bony truth of them. Heels cradled by damp sand, and toes lapped at by froth-tipped waves. He stares and thinks: Oh. I get it.

There’s excited voices all around him, but Fox feels removed from it all. There’s something… Intangible, in this moment. In the feel of bubbles moving between his toes. In the soft play of wind through his curls. Something that unfurls in his chest and flows into all the empty spaces Coruscant had dug into him.

Senator Amidala had offered boarding for the Guard on Naboo, and with the memory of her kindness spurring him on, Fox had accepted. It had taken time, planning and compromise, but the 212th had been positioned on Coruscant to take over their necessary tasks for the duration, and Cody had positioned himself as Acting Marshal Commander of the Guard.

Fox had been tired. He probably should have protested more, but Thorn had curled up with him on one of the evenings at the beginning of the planning, and whispered about everything they’d ever heard about Naboo.

And Fox… Fox didn’t really understand. Hadn’t really wanted anything in a long while.

But Thorn wanted. And Fox would give Thorn, after the years of suffering and standing solid beside Fox against the abuses of the Senate, pretty much anything they wanted.

So here they were. Here Fox was.

Staring at his feet.

Actually… He probably looks a little bit ridiculous, like this. In full armour, except for his boots, shin guards and bucket, with his body suit dragged halfway up his calves. The sun’s warm on the back of his neck, and the salt in the air is definitely playing slow havoc with the seals that hold his armour plates on.

He could just. Take it off.

There’s no one other than Vode on the beach. Senator Amidala had arranged that for them, so they could feel relaxed. There’s members of the 501st and 104th tentatively mixed in with the Guard, and it suddenly strikes him that the Guard are the only ones still wearing armour. The Vode of the other battalions are so strikingly, vividly different from them, in their casual clothes and relaxed postures.

Fox looks back at the horizon, and with a slow breath out that feels like it takes something with it, begins to remove the rest of his armour.

He starts with the guards on his forearms, disconnecting the latches that hold them snug against him with an air of calm he’s not entirely sure he’s felt in a long time. There’s nowhere to stack the pieces, no cleaning items on hand to polish them with, so he simply – drops them.

They fall in the tide washing over his toes with soft thumps and splashes, and he breathes.

He continues in this fashion, methodically removing pieces of armour and letting them fall to the ground beside him. It’s strange: the plastoid armour is lighter than one first expects, designed for long use and wear and trimmed as much as possible to keep costs down. But it feels like each piece takes something unbearably heavy with it. They clatter against each other when they drop, but he doesn’t flinch at the harsh noise, doesn’t feel that flash of panic that a natborn might have heard.

He watches the horizon. And listens to the hush all around him. There’s the sound of rolling waves, a low roar that sinks into his bones. Some form of indigenous bird calls as it hovers on thermals, drifting through the open sky.

It’s… Peaceful.

He finishes with his chest plate, and starts to reach back to remove the armour pieces still attached to his back, when a pair of hands softly catch his. He starts, and glances back to find Thorn behind him, something open and peaceful on their face.

It’s then that he realises all the other Vode have gone silent. They’re all stood, watching him as he sheds the pieces of his duty.

Fox looks back, and sees tears and relief and pride and fear and thinks.

I get it.

He turns back to watch the horizon, and Thorn removes the last of his armour.

There’s the sound of latches disconnecting, and plastoid hitting plastoid for a few minutes, and then Fox feels Thorn step up beside him. They’re clad in just their bodysuit, like him, legs rolled up as they look down in wonder at the water that now flows over the tops of their feet. Thorn’s pulled their hair out of the braids they kept it in, and it tangles around their face in a halo of shining blonde under the sun.

Stone’s next, and as he steps up to Fox’s other side, he reaches a hand out to Fox. Fox takes it, and looks over to find Stone staring out at the sea before them, face wet. Stone visibly swallows, and turns to Fox with a smile Fox has never seen him wear before. He’s gone one step further than Fox, undone the clasps on his bodysuit so the neck hangs open, exposing the shadows of ink creeping over his collar bones.

Thire’s last, joining them on Thorn’s other side. Thorn flings an arm around the ever-so-slightly shorter man’s shoulders, and Thire rolls his eyes before leaning to sling his own arm around Thorn’s waist. The younger clone sighs deeply, and sags against Thorn, who tucks him carefully into their side.

Fox reaches out his own hand to take Thorns, and they all share a gaze before looking back to the horizon.

The War ended several months ago, but finally, on this beach, with the people he loves around him, the cool sea at his ankles, and the chill of the breeze reaching his skin where plastoid always covered it, Fox believes it.

#I started this thinking I was going to write hijinks #Instead #The Corries needed something peaceful #I hope they got it #Rex has absolutely taken a holo of them all stood there #And Wolffe cried #But Rex was too busy trying not to cry to notice #commander fox #marshal commander fox #commander thorn #commander stone #commander thire #Coruscant Guard #star wars: the clone wars #My fanfiction #healing #Corries

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temptress-writes · 1 year

Text

🦊 Lucky Fox

A/N: Groovy seventies Harry. Part two of Disco Snow

C.W: DRUG USE (weed). Sexual content: spit kink, breeding kink, dum/dom play (subrry), spanking, squirting, anal play, bondage, choking.

Word count—10.2k.

Enjoy x

***

“I’m fumin’, little fox.”

The cord of your telephone is tangled in a perfect spiral around your index finger, your back pressed against the wall beside where the cradle hangs. You try to stifle the giggle that ensues his competitive aggression on the other end of the phone.

“It’s just a game, Harry.”

“Just a game? Right and Waffelos is just cereal, not a heavenly maple orgasm in the mouth.”

You laugh harder at his dramatic claim. It’s something you love about him. He puts his full heart into everything. Whether it’s a particularly tight parallel parking spot, a really bad joke, or a heavy debate on which cereal is the best. And mostly? You.

Well. You, and currently, Space Invaders.

“I’m not kidding around. I dialed you for reinforcements. Get your perky little ass down here.”

And with that, he hangs up. This is a reoccurring thing for the two of you. Harry tries to beat his highest score down at the arcade but swears he needs his little fox at his side for good luck. You're more than happy to oblige, often massaging his tense shoulders, offering sips of a milkshake through a straw before giving him a peck on his raspberry lips.

Ever since that night at the Hall of Mirrors, you and Harry have been inseparable. More discos, even more nights in his sheets. Months and months of dance battles in your kitchen in the early hours of the morning, months of reading poetry laid out in a park, his head tucked into your lap as you recite lines.

He is everything you adore in a person; warm, charismatic, shameless. He’s taught you a lot about being true to yourself. You often find yourself trying to be a people pleaser. To fit into a label of what makes you a person.

But Harry is a different class of human. Unhinged and unapologetic. Soulful and selfless. Of course, the man who wore bubblegum flares when you first met him would be the one you’d give your heart to. Really, his existence is one of a dream-like mirage. But he’s so real, and all yours.

Due to Harry’s more than electric dressing sense, he’s usually hauling you down to the mall in his yellow Dodge Charger. Grabbing items from racks and making you try them all on. Telling you twirl and show it off. He swears you suit everything and is quick to buy whatever you like. His favourite thing to spoil you with is lingerie, buying you dreamy underwear that he can rip apart with his teeth before tasting you.

One of your most recent purchases, courtesy of Harry’s taste, is a pair of gold sequin pants. You shimmy them up your legs, throwing on your white blouse and your white platform shoes. You leave your hair natural, not tying it up like you usually do because you know how much Harry enjoys playing with the loose strands.

Seated at your vanity, you apply a frosty green eyeshadow to your eyelid and use your cake liner to define your eyes with black along your lash line. With some coats of mascara and a wash of lip gloss, you grab your jacket and purse and head down to the arcade.

The sun is setting, melting into the skyline of Miami with warm caramel and fluffy candy-floss clouds that become burnt violet as the sun nears the horizon.

The Score. An arcade and bowling alley that evolves into a buzzing bar every night. Being a new establishment, it's a hot spot that offers everything. Entertainment, dancing, drinking, and the best hotdogs Harry says he’s ever tasted.

You pass the payphone where Harry called you from, skirting around the corner and bump straight into him.

He’s smiling brightly and you take a second to appreciate how fucking good he looks. You’re glad you put in the effort to match his style, always so impressed with his fits. This one might be one of your favourites.

The first thing you notice is the brown fur coat draped over his broad shoulders. It’s luxurious and warm and makes you want to cuddle him even more. Underneath is a yellow graphic t-shirt with his favourite orange stained sunglasses hung on the neck of it. His legs are nestled in a pair of blue flared jeans, his feet donning a pair of gold boots.

He makes a little whiney noise and cups your face in his jeweled fingers, leaving soft and delicate kisses to your lips and the tip of your nose. He pulls back to smile, his dimples and little crinkles by his eyes indented with the force.

“Hi, how high are you? Wait no, how are you h- I’m high as shit.”

You laugh, pressing your face into his neck and feeling his warmth. “Pothead. Did you smoke without me?”

He narrows his eyes at your pouted lips, flicking them with his finger. “Aw, feeling left out?”

“No.” You grumble playfully.

He chuckles, looking around before pulling you down the alley next to The Score. He fumbles around his jacket pocket, producing a half-smoked blunt and his lighter.

“Pucker up, baby.”

You giggle, allowing him to place the blunt between your pursed lips. He lights it, shielding the flame from the wind with his hand. You suck in deeply while Harry keeps watch. The smoke fills your lungs before it leaves your body in a plume. Harry grips your chin, sucking the smoke from your pouted lips.

Your lips meet in a heated kiss, the blunt quickly forgotten as he scoops you closer in his arms. He pressed you against the wall, tangling his hands in your hand and sucking on your tongue.

“Left your hair down for me, pretty girl. Know how much I like to pull it, don’t you?”

You sigh against him, your hands gripping his ass to pull him flush against you. He shamelessly grinds his crotch against you, kissing you deeply. You love his kisses. How much heavy meaning and adoration lies behind them.

He tugs your hair once more before growling and pulling away. He throws you a wink and breathes out a puff of air to calm himself down. He’s often telling you how much he struggles to keep his hands off you and today is no different.

He’ll never pass up an opportunity to have his hands on you, especially in those gold pants of yours.

But he’s also aware that you’re both stood in an alley with a dying blunt when you could be inside, getting settled into some entertainment for the night. He loves spending time with you like this. Having a smoke, maybe a drink or two. Getting silly and teasing each other. He can’t fucking wait.

He grips your wrist as you bring the joint up to your lips. You raise your brow. “What?”

“You take another hit and you’ll be catching some Z’s before I can get you a drink.”

“You're not wrong.”

He knows you so well, and you allow him to take the joint from your fingers and finish it. He flicks the butt to the ground, crunching it under the toe of his golden boot. He grips your hip, tugging on your pants and clicking his tongue.

“Look at us being all cute and shit. Matching, eh? Golden couple.”

Your hands bury themselves into his fur coat. “I love the coat.”

“Yeah? Don’t sweat it- it’s faux. No little foxes were harmed.”

He hooks his arm around your neck, pulling you from the alleyway and towards the arcade. You feel warm and fuzzy from both him and the joint. The night that stretches ahead of you makes you yearn for more of him. You can’t ever get enough of each other. Any second he can be showing you how much he appreciates you, he is.

“Let’s go buzz some extraterrestrials, yo!” He yells and you duck your head as people stare at him.

With two vodka slushies in hand, the two of you head over to the Space Invaders machine and you’re surprised there are no indents in the carpet from where he’s been standing most of today.

Harry’s excited, you can tell. He’s such a competitive person and as of late, his rival has been himself. Falling ever so slightly short to beat his own high score. You look at the leader board and it seems there is someone attempting to take his throne, creeping into 3rd place. You snort at the name he’s given himself.

SPACE INVADERS

HIGH SCORES

1st DADDY 435945

2nd DADDY 421890

3rd TB 337300

“Daddy? Please tell me that’s not you.”

Harry drops his jaw. “I- hang on, say it again. I like it.”

You pull him close, taking a sip of your vodka slushy and he does the same, wriggling his brows to egg you on. You’re both on a different level to the rest of the arcade, high off the joint and each other, buzzing off the vodka slushies.

“What, you wanna be my daddy?”

“Cheeky thing. I am your daddy.”

You bump your hip against his, tutting your tongue. Harry laughs at the flush in your cheeks before taking a long sip of his slushy. He hands it to you for safekeeping, poking his tongue out at you, tinged red from his drink. You poke your tongue out and he gasps at the bright blue stain.

“Blue tongued fox!”

You snort. “Sounds like an endangered species.”

“You’re one of a kind, my girl.” He leaves a kiss on your forehead and then your nose. He’s so soft and constantly being so affectionate with you. He winks. “Right, let’s send these ET fuckers home.”

After removing his coat and placing it on your shoulders, he turns to the gaming machine in front of him. He claps a couple of times and then rubs his hands together, psyching himself up for the task ahead.

He stretches out his neck, cracking his knuckles and you know he means business. He starts up the game, the little theme playing out that he hums along to.

Innocently sipping your slushy and then his, you place them on the bench beside you. You move to stand behind him, pressing your chest flat against his back. You can feel the warmth radiating from beneath his yellow t-shirt, his back expanding on a breath as he feels your tits against him.

He shakes his head to clear the delicious fog of you, starting up the game and letting his hands find the controls as if they’re a second home. As much as he loves to put his focus into his game, you will always be his top priority, the cutest and most welcome little distraction.

Your lips press on the plane of his back, right between his shoulder blades. You hum, your hands wrapping around his waist to press against his tummy. Your fingers slip underneath the material, desperate to feel his skin in any way you can.

He shivers when your nails scratch up and down his soft stomach. The beeps from the game mirror the jolts in his upper body as he aims and shoots, diminishing the rows of aliens on the screen.

You peer over his shoulder, patient and almost in awe of how controlled he is. So calm in the moment but you know he’ll be very vocal when the game ends. His score crawls higher and higher, as do your words of praise and encouragement.

“You got this, daddy.” You tease, hearing him growl deep in his chest.

“Cut it out, little fox. I’m trying to focus. And watch those hands.”

“Oops.” You giggle as if you don’t control the fact that your hands are veering south. Meeting the denim of his jeans, dreaming about going lower. But you decide to behave and tuck your fingers into the belt loops and kiss his shoulder.

“Fuck, almost got it. One more row and I’m toast.”

The pressure is high and you’re holding your breath as the rows of enemies creep lower and lower. But Harry feels like he’s been training for this moment. He’s about to surpass his highest score, taste it on the tip of his tongue, like his slushy. Or you.

You hold your breath as he grits his teeth, fully immersing himself in this game. He can feel the vapours of victory encase him, wrapping around his frame and bubble in his chest. They escape in excited yells as he surpasses his highest score.

“Fuck yes!” He cheers, whipping around to pick you up and spin you in a circle. Your congratulations are a round of elated yells and kisses. He puts you down and fist bumps the air, slapping the side of the gaming machine.

“Daddy reigns high, bitches!”

Others in the arcade shoot him looks at his expressive behavior. You shrug unapologetically, over the moon for your lover and his triumph.

“I’m so happy for you, handsome.” You smile, hugging him and squeezing his biceps. He wrinkles his nose and flexes them, showing off proudly even though he’s the least vain person you know.

He places his orange-stained glasses on you, adjusting so they sit perfectly on the bridge of your nose.

“Couldn’t have done it without you. You’re my lucky fox.”

Swimming in victory, Harry veers you towards the bowling alley. You exchange your heels for a pair of red and blue bowling shoes. Harry sits next to you, tying your laces before he does his own.

You find a secluded alley, away from other bowlers. You store your belongings in the booth, Harry’s fur coat included. Music blasts from the speakers and you hum along, trudging behind Harry as he approaches the rack and chooses a ball.

He picks the pink bowling ball in classic fashion. Bubblegum. He holds it, sending you a cheeky look and you brace yourself for whatever comment is about to come.

He nods to his hold of the three hooks in the pink ball. “Two in the pink, one in the stink, aye?”

You slap his chest, shoving past him to the rack and pulling up your choice of ball. A shimmering blue one.

“Behave, or you’ll have blue balls.”

He lets out a loud laugh. “Nice one, honey made a funny.”

“I do try.”

You stare down the lane at the setup of pins, twisting your lips. You’re competitive but nowhere near as competitive as he is. You can see the strategies forming behind his eyes and you wonder if you can sweet-talk him into taking it easy on you.

He smirks. “Ladies first.”

You bite your lip, aiming up your shot as you swing the ball back in your grasp. You can feel his eyes on you, in admiration, but also watching your technique. Whether that’s to help you better your game or to use it against you, you’re sure you’ll find out soon enough.

Your blue ball careens down the lane, your posture impressive and you stand to watch it take down just three pins. You groan out in frustration, knowing your body is slow and cloudy from the joint and single drink you had. Your second shot is no better, knocking down two additional pins. You jot down your unimpressive score on the sheet with a huff.

Harry chuckles, coming up beside you and pinching your hip. “Lucky fox. Watch me sink ten.”

“You won’t.”

“How about this,” He spreads his hands, preparing his proposal. “for every pin I knock down, you give me a kiss.”

“I hope you gutter it.”

“Oh, bite me.” He glares, kissing his cross pendant hanging around his neck before grabbing his ball to swing his shot.

As the ball shoots from his hand, the muscles and veins flex in his arm, his foot crossed back behind him dramatically.

His jeweled fingers shield his eyes from an imaginary glare as he watches his play. The bowling ball speeds dead center down the lane, blurring pink and knocking down ten pins.

“Strike!” He yells, pleased with himself. He does a little dance, his flared jeans swaying as he jives.

Of fucking course he lands a strike. His competitive streak on a high from passing his high score. You jump out of the way as he reaches for you. A haze of yellow and blue denim, a lazy smile, and mischievous emerald eyes that don’t leave yours.

“You cheated.” You deadpan, wanting to wind him up more than anything.

He laughs before his expression is dropped, stoic with his hands on his hips. “As fucking if. Stop being a sore loser and pay up. Come on, ten smooches. And don’t be stingy, I’ll be counting 'em.”

You sigh, feigning a look of sore defeat. “Fine. Where do you want them?”

“Losers choice.” He grins, happy to receive your kisses anywhere you’ll give them.

You can’t help but smile, your heart careening and flipping in your chest. You wrap your arms around his neck and give him a peck on the cheek, then the other, and then the nose, the corner of his mouth. When your lips meet, neither of you are counting anymore. Harry’s not even sure if he was counting in the first place.

It’s hard to act nonchalant when you’re kissing him. Or when you’re with him in general. He’s everything warm and gooey and glowing about life. All of your favourite things are wrapped into one dimpled, tattooed human. Curly, bubblegum.

It’s even harder to part. Even being in a public place, Harry sees no shame in showing his girl as much love and affection as he sees fit.

His thumb brushes your lower lip, his voice a low whisper. “You’re my lucky little fox, but I’m by far the luckiest fucker alive to call you mine.”

You kiss him again, so head over heels, submerged in him, so far gone, and happy to be.

Your next approach to the lane is one of determination. You take a deep breath, trying to form a connection with your bowling ball while Harry whistles loudly behind you.

“You got this, baby! Your ass looks mint!”

You turn to look at him, your head tilted. “Stop trying to throw me off!”

Harry waves you off. “Turn back around, let me see the peach.”

You roll your eyes and try to push it to the back of your mind, eyeing the ten pins at the end and glaring. You want to impress Harry but you also want to impress yourself. The fog in your mind parts straight down the middle, allowing the perfect alignment of the alley.

You swing your arm back as you take a few steps forward before launching the ball down towards the pins. You hear Harry cheer you on as it fires dead center towards the pin. You shout at it, willing it to stay on course.

The ball veers ever so slightly to the right, clipping half of the pins and knocking down an extra two. Seven down, the three remaining glaring at you. Harry scoops you up with an excited yell, spinning you in a circle.

You kiss him, unable to help yourself. You retrieve your ball and face the pins, Harry crowding behind you with his hands on your waist. His lips brush your ear, soft and enticing an eruption of butterflies in your stomach.

“Three left, little fox. Want the pro to help you sink 'em?”

You smile, turning your neck so you can nudge your nose against his. “Please.”

With his hold on your waist, he ushers you to the left a little, lining you up for the shot. “Aim slightly to the left, okay? Give it full power.”

You nod, letting his arm guide yours in a trialing movement. “Like this?”

“Just like that, atta girl.”

He takes a small step back, sensing your immense focus on his teachings. You let the ball roll from your fingers, surging towards the remaining pins. You’re hopeful as it nears them, staying right on course just as Harry had predicted. His arms are wrapped around you as you both watch the ball knock down the three pins.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” He yells, squeezing you tight while you cheer at your win. You high-five him, slipping his glasses from your nose and tucking them into the neck of his shirt.

You shrug and drop your chin against your shoulder, bashful.

“That was slick as shit, foxy.”

He’s impressed, proud even, as he writes your score down on the card. Your little victory dance is adorable, his smile growing as you parade around in triumph. You’re still buzzing, the weed sizzling and melting in your bloodstream.

“Your turn, hotshot.”

“Might as well put down a strike for me now.” He points to the scorecard.

“You’re cocky sometimes, you know that?”

“Pfft, only sometimes? If I bury ten, I get to borrow those pants next weekend.” He points to your gold sequins and your roll your eyes playfully.

“You know I’d let you, anyway.”

“Mm, but I like winning.”

He picks up his pink ball, throwing you a wink before skillfully lining up his shot. He sinks eight easily, toppling over and knocking the remaining two. Another clean strike. The celebration that proceeds is no less enthusiastic, shared kisses and cheers.

You write down his score on the sheet, as Harry seemingly loses all interest in the bowling game at hand. It’s hard to focus on anything but you, and with his own buzz slowly dissipating, he’s only high off you.

He presses you against the table, your breath hitching as his hands slide down the backs of your thighs. His lips brush yours and you’re quick to flick your tongue out against his bottom lip.

“You owe me ten kisses, pretty girl.”

Your hands tangle into the soft curls at the nape of his neck. “Can I get a please?”

The smirk that curls at his lips creates a warm, fuzzy feeling inside your chest. “Feeling bossy tonight, hm? You wanna call the shots?”

Genuinely intrigued by the idea, you tilt your head shyly. “Would you let me?”

“You’re asking if I’d let you be in control, little fox? Let you sit on my face, ride my cock as long as you like?”

Hearing the words leave his mouth strips all moisture from your mouth. It’s streamed between your legs and you squeeze your thighs together to quell the sudden intense burst of arousal.

“Harry, please.”

His expression is one of heady desire, “I’ll be your good boy tonight. You just need to give me a kiss, first.”

The sentence barely leaves his lips before your lips meet his. Messy and heated. His lips encasing your lower one, your tongue finding his. He doesn’t even attempt to stifle the moan that rumbles in his chest.

He presses tightly against you, and you can feel his cock hardening beneath his denim jeans. You pull away, your eyes lulled. Harry smiles lazily, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear before giving your ass a full squeeze.

“Let’s ditch this joint, hm? Burn some rubber in the Dodge, you can give me a handy on the way back to yours.”

You don’t even have the willpower to slap him for the comment, too enthralled with his sudden change of mood. Sappy and gooey, you just want each other.

“What about the game?” You gesture to the bowling alley.

“It’s a tie, or you win. I don’t care, I just wanna get home and let you use me.”

After collecting your belongings and swapping the bowling shoes for your own, you find yourselves tucked into his Dodge Charger, the engine roaring to life. The bright nightlife reflects off the yellow exterior of the car as Harry drives through the streets of Miami.

Harry turns up the radio, All Along The Watchtower booming through the speakers, bass thrumming in your throat. You put the window down and get lost in the breeze. The song, the man you’re with, feels like something one could only dream of.

Harry has one hand on the steering wheel, the other on your thigh. He squeezes it every so often, and you have to take a deep breath to stabilise how turned on you are. It’s thick and cloudy between you.

His jaw is sharp, his eyes are trained on the road. He leans over at a red light, sealing your lips together in a kiss that you feel in the pit of your stomach.

As the light turns green and his foot is pressed on the accelerator, you’re leaning over the center console and nuzzling your face into his neck. The deep, woody vanilla smell is your aromatic home.

Your teeth bite gently into the skin before you suck, knowingly marking him. He hisses, his hold on your leg tightening at the sensation. It creeps higher, eager to feel you. Your hand finds itself on his thigh, inching towards where he wants you most.

You know you don’t have much time before you’re due to pull up at your apartment. And you’re impatient by nature. Your lips don’t leave his neck as your hands work to open his belt, clinking buckle and worn leather parted so you can pull down the zipper of his jeans.

“Oh, my god.” He groans, your fingers finding his length through his briefs. You peek out the window, taking note of where you are and knowing you need to be quick about this.

You carefully pull his length from the confines of his pants, wrapping your fist around him. He breaths out a shaky sigh as you touch him, so hot and silky, getting harder and harder for you. You look at him, flicking your tongue along his jawline to meet his ear.

“Spit on my tongue like a good boy.”

Harry’s hand tightens on the steering wheel, trying to keep his cool as if you aren’t fisting his cock and asking him to spit in your mouth. You pull away, opening your mouth wide and raising your brow expectantly.

Flicking his eyes from yours to the road, he swears under his breath before gripping your chin to steady you. He spits in your mouth, feeling so fucking unhinged that his ears are ringing.

You hum, satisfied before you return your attention to his throbbing cock. You spit directly on the head of his dick, using your hand to spread the moisture down the entirety of him. He lets out a soft moan at the slick feel of your tightened fist.

Your nose nudges his cheek as you work him with your hard, his breathing shaky, blissful noises leaving his mouth as you pick up your pace.

“Do you want my mouth on you, baby?” You mewl, your voice so sweet and sugary in his ear.

“You know I do.”

“Beg me.”

Harry clenches his jaw, wound up so tight from you. He can feel the reigns of control gripped surely in your hands, just as firm as your hold on his cock.

“Please, my little fox. Please let me feel your gorgeous mouth wrapped around me, I need it.”

“How badly do you need it?”

“So fucking bad, please let me fuck your throat, I promise I’ll be good.”

“You want me to have a taste?” You’re loving having the power. Hearing him become so desperate for you, shamelessly beg for you.

“Fuck, please. Please taste it.”

You smirk, pleased with how good he’s been for you. You get comfortable, leaning down so your head is practically in his lap. You flick your tongue against the underside of his tip, moving up to swirl your tongue along it. He’s wet with pre-come and so hard for you.

His thighs tense under you, his hand tangling into your hair. Fuck, you’re so perfect. Filling your mouth with his cock while Jimi Hendrix fills the thick air with his voice.

He almost misses his turn as you envelop his tip past your lips, your hot mouth a welcome warmth that he moans at the feel of. Your hand works his shaft, getting him nice and wet so you can slowly take more of him.

Your throat is tight and Harry chokes out a curse as you take most of him, your muscles constricting around him. So big and so thick but you’re determined to have him as deep as he can go.

“Fuck, that’s so good.” He sighs, fisting your hair so tight that tears form in your eyes at the sharpness of it.

He tastes heavenly, and as if that isn’t enough, the sounds he makes are otherworldly. They egg you on, spur you to make him feel as good as possible. You work him harder, bobbing up and down while your hand jerks his skin.

Harry is near on sobbing above you, having to focus on the road even though his vision is blurring. The purr of the engine and the wet hot of your mouth is too fucking much. He comes to a stop at a red light a little too harshly and you come up to glare at him.

“Be careful-“

But he’s pushing you back down, his expression almost panicked. Someone’s pulled up next to you at the red light. “Shh, shh, don’t stop. Don’t you dare fucking stop. Shit, that’s fucking good. Oh, my god.”

The light switches to green and after Harry completes a turn, you come up again, your glare even harder this time.

“Who’s in control again?”

“Oh, shit-“

“Answer the fucking question.”

He swallows, panting. “You are, sweet girl.”

“Exactly. If you try to boss me around, I’ll make you sit on your hands while I fuck myself.”

“Jesus Christ-“

“Do you understand? I’ll get out that pink toy you like so much, let it be the only thing that fills my pussy tonight.”

“Fuck, yes I understand. I’m sorry.”

“Will you be a good boy?” You check, on fire with how hot it is being the dominant one tonight.

“Yes, I’ll be your good boy.”

Satisfied with his answer, you swallow him again. Not giving him a second before his tip is nestled right against the back of your throat. You hum around him, the vibrations driving him wild. You can feel him pull over to the curb, and a quick glance out the window tells you that you’ve reached your apartment.

You don’t give him any room to question how the night will go, you simply head inside while he puts his rock-hard dick back into the tight denim of his jeans and chases after you.

At first, you spent an equal amount of time at each other’s apartments. But, over time, it became clear that Harry favours your own abode. So much warmer and homely than his. A woman’s touch that his is missing. He loves your bright green sofa, the stacks of books that serve as little side tables.

It had been an unspoken observation, met by two surging souls. He noticed the little things at first. You started to stock your cupboard with some of his favourite snacks, an extra toothbrush found a home in your bathroom. And, after a while, he barely found himself leaving it.

You’re pressed against the mint-toned refrigerator, fervent lips attached to your neck. You push him away playfully with a raised brow. Always so used to taking you how he wants to, he’s forgotten who’s in control tonight.

He releases a breathy laugh as you walk towards him. He backs away, falling into a chair at the dining table. It’s right where you coerced him, right where you want him.

You strip your shirt off, throwing it over his head and he removes it with a chuckle, not wanting to miss a thing. You decide to discard your bra as well, knowing how much he loves your tits and how much he’ll hate not being able to touch them and play with them.

“You like these pants, Harry?” Your fingers toy with the waistband and he shifts restlessly in his seat.

“I love whatever you wear. You make everything look so fucking sexy.”

You purse your lips. “Great answer.”

Your response has his heart leaping in his chest, feeling as if he just got a gold star. Hoping he can cash it in at some point tonight for an ounce of control.

“And what if I told you that the panties match?” You continue.

“Then I’d fucking beg to see them.”

“Do it, then.”

Your expression is unreadable and he just knows that you’re having too much fun with this.

“Please, let-“

“Uh uh.” You stop him. “On your knees.”

Harry is slow to comply, and maybe it’s so he can coerce a reaction from you. You tap your foot, the white platforms tall and intimidating. He’s on his knees in front of you, his expression soft and pleading as he stares up at you through his lashes.

“Please, baby. Let me see them. I’ve been so good, I promise I’ll behave.”

You scoff. “Is that all you’ve got?”

“I need to see your pretty panties. Your cunt is my favourite place, let me see how you’ve dressed her.”

You try to hide how his words make you feel, and you’re surprised you don’t melt into a puddle next to him. He always says the right thing. Granted, it’s always filthy and shameless, but it’s what you need.

“So desperate.” You smirk, holding his eye contact.

He licks his lips, not even denying it. He’s not ashamed, hell, he’ll even shout it from the rooftops if that’s what you want. His eyes fan down your legs as you peel your pants off, discarding them, left in nothing but your heels and your panties.

The panties are heavenly, ethereal. Mouth fucking watering. He’s surprised there’s not a puddle of drool on the ground next to him. White lace embroidered with golden threaded flowers. So delicate and angelic beneath the glittering excitement of the sequins.

You click your fingers, trying to get his attention. His hand reaches out and you smack it away. “Naughty boy.”

“I’m sorry,” He rasps. “I’ll keep my hands to myself. I promise.”

“What about your mouth?”

“It’s yours to use.”

His curls are a mess atop his head, falling down his forehead in chocolate tendrils. His chest is heaving, his hands clenched into impatient fists he wants to grip your hair while he fucks you.

You take a single step forward, his face level with your panties. He’s so close that you can feel his hot breath fan over your core, so needy for him. You’re sure that the panties are saturated at this point, you can feel how wet you are and just know you’ll leave his face a mess.

You bring one of your feet up and rest it on the chair right behind him. Harry gulps, waiting for your next instruction.

“Do you like them?” You ask, your fingers toying with the band of the panties at your hips.

“Yes, so fucking much.”

“Such a dirty mouth.”

You lean down, gripping his chin so hard his jaw drops. Harry’s not expecting you it when you spit on his tongue, it’s messy, speckling on his lips a little. He moans deep in his chest, keeping his mouth open, ready to obey.

“I’ll have to give it something better to do.” You coo, pulling your panties to the side to expose your core to him.

At the sight of your glistening pussy, Harry shifts on his knees, so desperate to taste you. To bury his face against you, fuck you with his tongue while his nose presses against your clit. Bossy little fox, he’s trying to behave but it’s so fucking hard.

Your fingers run along your clit, further down to where you’re wettest. You spread your arousal, swirling along the sensitive bundle of nerves. Harry’s nostrils flare at the sight, your moans are soft as you touch yourself.

Anchoring your foot on the chair with your center right in front of his face, your hand takes a fistful of his hair. With your hold on him, you bring his face forward, putting his mouth directly on your cunt.

His mouth is searing hot, so wet against you. Not wasting any time, Harry flicks his tongue out, between your folds to collect your wetness and closing his lips around your clit in a kiss. You throw your head back with an unsteady sigh, finally getting the attention that you’ve been craving all night.

It started as an electric throbbing, intensified every time he looked at you or touched you. Now it feels like a wildfire that blooms in the pit of your stomach and flares through to every nerve in your body.

Harry, finally happy to be allowed to touch you, eats your pussy with ardent lust. He’s desperate, frantic almost. You moan loudly at how good he is at this. How good he makes you feel, how desirable. He loves your body, loves touching it, making it hum for him.

You roll your hips forward, unable to contain yourself. He nibbles gently on your clit and you gasp out, pulling on his hair. His eyes flicker up to you, sparkling with mischief before they close as he hums, tasting you deeper, getting you wetter.

Your legs shake as he targets your clit even more, knowing it drives you fucking mad. You put your foot back on the ground, pulling your core away from him. His mouth chases after it, not ready to not have you on his tongue. Your taste drives him mad and he’s a man addicted.

He stands, desperate to have you but you push him back roughly. He lands on the chair with a thud, staring up at you with a bewildered expression. His curls are even more of a mess at this point.

“Let me taste you. I’ll make you come as many times as you want.”

“What did I tell you about that mouth?”

“You’ve soaked your pretty panties, sweet fox. Better take 'em off.”

You move to stand in front of him, gripping his jaw in your hand. Harry’s so fucking turned on, his cock unbelievably hard beneath his denim jeans that it’s starting to hurt.

“Stop talking.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The glint in his eyes does little to instill your confidence in him. He’s far too cocky, too cheeky to actually obey you. He’ll find a way to capture the reigns at some point, but not yet. You’re only just getting started.

As gracefully as you can, you sit upon the table in front of him. Harry swears under his breath at the sight, immediately lurching forward almost as if it’s an instinct. Your heeled foot presses against his chest, halting him before pushing him back into his seat.

You make him wait, spreading your legs. He pants, his eyes flicking between your panties and your face. Waiting. So patient.

“Take my panties off.” You instruct. He raises his hand and you tut. “Uh uh, use your teeth.”

Harry growls, placing his hands on the edges of the table and licking a bold stripe up your thigh. You tense, wishing his tongue was back on your cunt but you know this payoff will be good.

His nose runs along the edge of your panties, right next to where you want him. He flicks his tongue out against your inner thigh and your legs jump at the attention. His teeth meet the band at your hip, drawing it down slightly. His eyes don’t leave yours once, ensnared in you.

With one side lowered to your upper thigh, he moves to the other side, sucking the skin of your navel right above the band of your panties. You gasp as a mark forms before he pulls down your panties from your hip.

You shift your hips up, helping him peel them down your legs, taking them in his fist and shoving them in his pocket.

“Good boy.” You praise. “Come get your taste.”

The words have barely left your lips before his mouth is on your cunt again. Vibrating against you as a moan rocks through him. You taste so fucking good, maybe even more than usual because of how withholding you’ve been.

You collapse against the table, the surface cool against your back. His enthusiasm is unparalleled. The kind of pleasure he gives so easily used to be the kind you could only fake with partners. But he does everything so well.

“Perfect little pussy,” He coos against you.

He traps your clit between his teeth before flicking the tip of his tongue against it. You cry out, your thighs closing around his head. He delves his tongue south, finding your entrance and gathering the gushing wetness.

He doesn’t hesitate to go further down, his tongue massaging your rare entrance briefly before he’s pulling back and spitting directly on your pussy. His eyes meet yours and you just about pass out at the sight of his face fucking saturated with you. Almost dripping off of his soaked chin.

You grip his head, pushing him back down. He’s happy to oblige, eating you out so fast and intense that your vision starts to blur.

“Fuck, yes right there, oh my god.”

He sucks on your clit, humming to vibrate the area. You come up to rest on your elbows, wanting to watch him. You roll your hips up and he becomes idle, letting you fuck his face. He falls back into the chair, his hand coming down to massage his dick through his jeans while you grind your cunt against him.

“Are you going to come in your pants while you eat my pussy?” Your tone is verging on condescending and Harry almost finishes right then and there.

His cock throbs at your words, so out of it for him. He feels unhinged, so close to shutting you up and plunging his length into you. You’re so wet and so sweet for him, it would be so easy to slide into your plush cunt and feel your walls grip him like a fist. But he wants you to come like this first.

“Let me give you my fingers, baby. Want you to squirt all over me, make a fucking mess of me. Please let me.”

“Not… yet…” You breathe out, even though you feel so fucking close you could scream.

As if sensing your control slipping, you push him away. You can feel your orgasm brewing and you know that as soon as it hits, you’ll be a writhing mess and your game will come to a finish the second that you do.

“What-“

“I don’t want to come yet.” You gasp, your chest heaving and your core tingling with heat.

“You really want to play this game, little fox?”

You stand your ground. “Go get on the bed.”

Your bedroom is his favourite place. Warm yellow and orange ambiance, a wide bed with crushed velvet bedding. That in abundance with your fervor and passion, Harry swears it’s like sleeping in the sun. Golden, burning desire, deliciously cocooning beams of sunny adoration that wash over you.

As if he’s missed the warmth of it, he sits eagerly on the edge of your bed with a soft bounce. He peels off his shirt, feeling too hot to keep it on. His belt is already undone, he unbuttoned his jeans and you tap your foot.

You saunter towards him, a prowess with hauntingly lustful eyes. He clenches his jaw, feeling your wetness decorate his chin mouth still. You push him flat onto the bed, crawling to straddle him. Your core presses against the fly of his jeans and you can feel how hard his cock is.

His hands find your hips immediately and you push them away with a glare.

“Keep your hands off.”

“Make me.”

Taking it as a challenge, you lean over to the bedside table and open the middle drawer. A draw often opened whenever you and Harry find yourself tangled up in these sheets. A drawer of trust and exploration. You grab a few things, hiding one object under the pillow so he doesn’t see it.

With two pieces of rope, you tie around his wrists and attach the ropes to the steel rings in your headboard. Harry had them installed as soon as he realised how much you loved being restrained in bed. Turns out, he enjoys it just as much.

Your relationship with Harry is a constant stream of excitement. At first, you thought that potentially he would always have the upper hand. But the reality is, you’re two equal souls in every aspect. You split bills, you wear each other’s clothes, you both had control in bed. It has never been like this, though. Tonight is new and different.

He allows you to tie him up, barely tensing his muscles and pulling on the restraints. You know that you’ll be unable to untie him in a split second if he wants to, but the smug look on his face tells you he’s content. For now.

You scoot up, sitting on his chest, smooth and inked. You spread your legs, settling your feet on either side of him. Harry licks his lips at the sight of your core right in front of him. He can see that you’re almost dripping and he wants to catch it with his tongue.

He has no idea what you have planned, only knows that you’re having too much fun playing with him like this.

His eyes watch your every movement, on edge yet intrigued to see what you’ll do next. One hand reaches down to palm his cock through his jeans. He shifts his head back into the pillow with a low groan. Now that you’ve successfully distracted him, your other hand reaches for the other item you retrieved from the draw.

Upon hearing you sigh, his eyes fly open. You have the pink dildo in your hand, running it between your saturated folds. Harry pulls on the restraints, wanting to touch you so fucking bad.

“Holy shit.”

You bite your lip, gripping his cock harder. You pull down the zipper, slipping your hand inside. His briefs are wet with arousal and you push past the barrier of them to find his bare cock.

You lean back a little, fully exposing yourself and slipping the tip of the toy lower. His eyes are full of pleading as you slowly push it inside with a soft mewl. Your hand remains on his cock, slowly working the skin.

“Baby-“

“What?” You raise your brow.

“Please, fuck me instead.”

You smirk, slowly shifting your hips as the tip of the toy sits snugly inside of you. You push it in further, your eyes fluttering at the full sensation of it. It’s nowhere near as good as Harry, but you moan like it is.

Harry shifts with a growl, seeing you look so blissful from something other than him driving him mad. His favourite little gasp you make when he first pushes his cock past your tight walls is now ushered because of a fake dick.

You throw your head back, starting to fuck yourself with the toy. So wound up from the entire night. You work the dildo faster, stirring yourself into a frenzy. Not holding back your moans and cries because you can feel how tense Harry is beneath you because of them.

“Fuck, please stop.” He whimpers, so desperate to have you.

You moan loudly. “I’m so close.”

“Please, oh my fucking god. Please, let me fuck you, I can’t take it. I need to make you come. Please. I’ll do anything please just-“

While he rambles, you grab your panties from his pocket and shove them in his mouth, shutting the stream of begs off right at the source. He garbles around the intrusion, pissed off now. You lick your hand and reach behind you, gripping his cock again.

“Be. Good.”

He growls, slamming his head back into the pillow in annoyance. You continue fucking yourself, grinding your hips. The warmth build and tingles in your lower stomach, the toy pressed tight against your g-spot from this angle.

The warmth blooms and spreads, so close to exploding. Your walls clench mercilessly around the dildo and you gasp at the pleasure building hot and fast. Harry can tell that you’re almost there. Tell that he’s worked you up with his mouth and now you’re edging towards the precipice of euphoria.

“Feels so good,” You gasp. “so fucking big, oh shit.”

Harry bucks his hips up, pulling on the restraints around his wrists until it burns. You reach forward, removing the panties from his mouth. As fun as it is to gag him with them, you miss his voice, miss the dirty words that colour it.

“Give me your pussy now.” He snarls.

“Do you deserve my pussy, Harry?”

“Yes,” He hisses. “I’ve been good for you, haven’t I? Now untie me so I can fuck you.”

“No.”

Harry swears loudly, pulling on the ropes and you’re sure he’s about to break through them. But then he relaxes to glare at you, his nostrils flaring.

“You’re in big trouble, little fox.”

You fuck yourself harder, unfazed. “I’m sure I am.”

“You know that as soon as you untie me I’m going to fucking ruin you, don’t you?”

The threatening promise sets you off, your orgasm hitting you so hard you almost collapse at the pleasure of it, crying out his name. Your vision is blurred, tiny white dots clouding it. You remove the toy just as a burst of clear liquid from your cunt paints Harry’s chest and face.

Harry’s jaw drops as it hits him, his eyes narrowed at your expression. You look gorgeous when you come and from this angle, he can see everything. Feel it as it wets him.

“Fucking shit.” He hisses, surprised that he didn’t just come because of what is the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

You come around quickly, stripping off his shoes and jeans before shifting to settle between his legs. He calls your name as you take his cock in your hand before quickly swallowing him. He grits his teeth, so fucking close to exploding down your throat.

“Untie me.”

Your eyes twinkle with mischief, taking him deeper. Your hand plays with his balls, rolling them in your palm gently. Harry throws his head back, his ears ringing. He snaps his head back up, seeing his glistening chest painted in your orgasm.

And then he feels something circle his ass, nudging very carefully at his rare entrance. The toy. Saturated in your wetness, now about to be used on him. Just the idea of it has his balls pulling up tight and his entire body tingling. If you progress further, he’ll finish before you even get started.

“No, no you naughty little- fuck!”

His cock is tucked snugly down your throat, the sensation unreal as you gag around him. You continue to tease him with the toy and he just about loses it.

“Baby, you gotta stop. I’m right there, fucking stop.”

He starts to almost panic, not sensing you slow down at all. Almost as if possessed, he flexes every muscle in his arms and rips right through the rope restraining his wrists. You jump up in shock, standing at the edge of the bed.

You’re not able to get far as he grips you by your throat and presses his forehead against yours. His chest is heaving as he pushes through his aggression.

“What did I tell you, hm?”

You smirk and it pisses him off further.

His voice is low and dangerous and he grips your throat tighter. “I told you that I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

“You’re all talk.” You manage out past the grip of his hand.

His fingers move from your throat to the nape of your neck. He pushes your face towards his glistening chest.

“Dirty fucking girl. Look at the mess you made. Clean me up and then ask me to fuck you.”

You hum, smiling at how filthy he is. You push him back onto the bed, following after him. Your tongue licks up the mess from your orgasm on his chest, up his neck, and his chin. You suck on his tongue, your limbs feeling like jelly and you know you’ll be a mess before he’s even done with you.

“There’s my good girl.”

You want to defy him a little more. You kiss down his chest again, down his toned stomach, and find his navel with your teeth. He hisses out, taking a fistful of your hair. He’s not falling for this again. He needs to fuck you. Now.

He grabs you, flipping you on your stomach and spanking your ass hard. And then again on the other side. You cry out his name, feeling a little disorientated from the change of position and sudden switch of control.

He’s holding the reigns now.

He bites your reddening cheek, growling out and coming to straddle over you. You turn your head to watch him and he shoves your face into the bedding. You can’t even hide your glee, pleased to have successfully riled him up this much.

He spreads your cheeks, slipping his fingers between your folds to feel how wet you are. He cocks his head to the side with a smile before he wraps his hand around your chin, delving three fingers into your mouth. You suck on them, knowing he wants them nice and wet.

Now wet, he spreads the moisture on his fingers along his cock and lines himself up to your cunt.

He pauses, moving his hand from your head so you can turn to look at him. “Say please.”

“Please fuck me.” You whimper.

“Are you done with your little game?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

And then he’s slamming into you so hard you feel winded. He doesn’t stop, pressing into you before retracting. He fucks you into the mattress, his hands anchored on your hips as he takes you. He knows he won’t last long, so overworked from the whole night. Your cunt is wrapped around him so tight and it doesn’t help.

He spreads your cheeks, spitting directly on your ass and he uses his thumb to spread it. You stifle a moan as he massages the tight area before slowly pressing his thumb in. While he’s slow and gentle there, his cock is splitting you in half, shredding an overwhelming euphoria inside of you that he knows how to build so well.

“Fuck, Harry, so good-“

“Yeah? Is this what you want, hm? Want me to get rough with you?”

“Y-Yes!”

“Mm, or did you just wanna play with me? Tie me up, play with that dildo, squirt all over me, leave me all wet. Fucking tease my ass with the toy you made yourself come with.”

“Fuck, yes. I wanted to tease you.”

“Filthy fucking thing. You think daddy will let you play with his ass like that?”

“Yes, daddy.” You breathe out.

“Think again.” He exchanges his thumb for two fingers, slipping them into your ass with ease and matching his rhythm with his cock.

You can feel the pressure in your stomach as he pushes you against the mattress. He’s so out of it, delirious with his need to fuck you until you’re a blubbering mess. You fist the covers, needing to grip something before you lose it. He’s everywhere. On your tongue, in your ass, your pussy, your fucking soul.

You feel like you’re about to come, and Harry curses as your walls clamp around his cock, feels you tighten around his fingers. He pulls out, moving you onto your side and lying behind you. He kisses you, gripping your outer leg to hold it up. He drags you closer, slipping his cock back into your warmth.

“Fuck, dreamy fucking cunt. My favourite, oh shit.” He’s obsessed with how you feel and you can sense that he’s lost all ability to think straight.

With your arm wrapped around his neck, you roll your hips back to meet his thrusts. You’re so wet for him, the slaps in the room of his skin hitting yours growing louder and louder. He grips your wrists in his hand, licking his fingers on his other hand before reaching down to play with your clit.

He’s notorious. Knowing you’re overly sensitive. He pinches it between his fingers, rolling and rubbing it. You careen forward, so overwhelmed and so close to coming. It’ll shatter you, you can just feel it.

Harry flips you onto your back, coming over you and putting your legs on his shoulders. His hands shake as he reconnects with you and starts fucking you so hard you don’t know which way is up. He loves fucking you this way. He can see everything, see your face, see how hard you shake.

You cry out as he places his hand on your abdomen, pressing down until you can feel his cock and the pressure of it.

“You gonna come, sweet fox?”

You nod, tears forming in your eyes at the intensity of him.

“Yeah? Go on, give it to me.” He encourages.

Almost as if it needed permission from him, your body explodes automatically. Wet, tight, toe-curling. Harry admires how fucking beautiful you look when you come. So out of it, spiraling in a world of pleasure that leaves him wetter than your last orgasm.

“Yes,” He hisses out, lightheaded at how tight you are. “good fucking girl.”

You grip his arms, trying to hold onto anything while it feels like you’re floating through nothingness. Your core is unrelenting, sucking him deeper and deeper, pulsing through the aftershocks of your orgasm. Harry groans, releasing your legs and dropping his face into your neck.

His thrusts turn into grinds, wanting to get as deep as possible inside of you. Addicted to how snug you are.

“Fuck, so close.” He rasps. "Dreamy fuckin' pussy. Made for me. Made for my cock, holy shit."

Your fingers tangle into his hair, your legs wrapping around his waist. Your heels dig into his back and your hands pulling his hair adds to the sensation.

“Come, Harry. Please, I need it.”

“F-Fuck, where?”

“Inside me.” Your words are barely a whisper but he hears them loud and clear, encourages him to fuck you harder.

“Yeah? Want daddy to fill you up with his cum?"

"Please,"

"I’ll give you all of it, get you fuckin' pregnant. Make you give us a baby. Fuuuck, I’ll cum in you every fuckin' day until it happens.”

“Fuck, please.” You whimper, so turned on and in awe of what he’s blabbering about.

Harry’s orgasm hits him like a freight train. He doesn’t stop fucking you through it, grinding and screwing up into you. Your walls are painted with thick white ropes of his cum and you gasp at the feeling of how deep he is. He bites down on your neck, moaning your name with a deep growl.

He kisses you for ages after, his cock softening inside you. Your body feels like a live wire, your heart thumping boldly in your chest. Harry gives you a final kiss before retrieving a washcloth from the bathroom to clean you with.

Your frown at his raw wrists, burned from the rope. “They look sore.”

He shrugs, his eyes kind. “Doesn’t hurt that bad. Let me take care of you.”

So, you let him. He always takes care of you. Takes his time to cherish your body, restore it and clean it. Kiss every inch and tell you how much he loves it. He traces your stretch marks, kisses every freckle, soothes every trembling limb.

And, once he’s done, you reciprocate with another cloth. Gentle kisses, even more gentle touches to his wrists. You run your hands through the mess of curls, cuddling him close as you settle under the covers of your golden abode, feeling warm and loved and content.

“I left my soul at The Score.” Harry comments, running his hands up and down your back.

“You fucked mine out of me.”

His chest shakes as he laughs, kissing your forehead with a chuckle. “It was those damn panties. They possessed me.”

You both laugh softly, wrapped up in each other with tranquil heaven that exists wherever your two hearts are connected.

He has diminished any chance of a sullen existence in a sometimes devastating world, a delicate and colourful essence that was made for you. He’s a burst of light, shrouding any ounce of uncertainty. A rush of adenine that makes life worth the rush. The resolute constant that will cradle and cocoon you. He is every adventure and endeavor. And you’re his sidekick till the very end, benevolent and tender-hearted.

Foxy, bubblegum, snow, and cloudy joints. All are facets that encapsulate two souls melding into one inconceivably free entity.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles filth #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #hslot #smut #hes

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leviathanofdeath · 11 months

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rotb spoilers i talk abt Noah in depth bc im autistic and its 1 am

(this is also strictly talking abt the movies)

idk bout yall, but i really like Noah and his character and the way he interacts with everything thrown at him., I really like how (because of Mirage's chill personality) he wasn't completely overwhelmed by the existence of robot aliens. sure he was freaking the hell out abt the car driving by itself but yknow he caught on pretty quickly. and this is also due to the fact that he wanted to save earth as well. and specifically he wanted to help his brother. can we talk abt the fact that he was so willing to go against his morals just to scrounge up some sort of cash to help his family. as soon as he got into Mirage he was like "I don't wanna do this" and he was trying to get out the car. I also really like the relationship Noah had with his little brother. trying to be that light in his life and give hope. doing everything just to help his little brother not be in so much pain. it was just a nice touch to show us how truly compassionate and caring Noah is and you could really feel that through the performance, imo. you can tell they've both been struggling for quite some time. you feel sorry for when Noah gets immediately rejected by that security officer, and he's completely honest and trying to explain how he deserves a second chance (and he does) and he's probably repeated those reasons a thousand times in the past. he almost completely doubts himself until his brother reiterates that they're always gonna be there together and theybcan do it. and even though it sounds unrealistic, me and my sister have said the same thing to each other so it feels all the more powerful to me. it's a completely different approach to a character in the movie series and I cannot appreciate it enough.

and can I just say, sorry to the sam likers out there, I like how Noah doesn't just immediately insult Mirage trying to save him or befriend him. they actually have a strong ass bond almost right off the bat. sam was always yelling at bee everytime bee came in to save his ass (I hated this bc bee can do no wrong ok) but when Mirage was fighting scourge all by himself JUST to buy time for Noah, literslly risking his life for Noah. literslly becoming a suit of armor for him. Noah was nearly in tears, watching mirage's optics fade becsuse they've already become so close. Noah and Mirage have the silliest banter because they just get along so well. I know it's kind of stupid to compare the two (sam/bee and noah/mirage) but my point is simply: they connect so well together and I really fucking appreciate that. we've seen it with Charlie and Bee where they genuinely care for each other and now we see it again with Noah and Mirage. its just so nice to see the two get along swimmingly. even after they save the world, Mirage meets Noah's brother and everything and Noah begins to fix Mirage up as well. showing that they've become closer after the entire incident.

and Mirage. I just gotta say he is seriously the star of the show. Pete Davidson did an amazing job with him. and Mirage's personality fits with Noah so incredibly well. They've got the same type of style, use the same slang, stuff like that, and they compliment each other. Mirage is so genuinely interested and curious about Noah that he comes off as extremely friendly, defensive, and playful. He doesn't hesitate to risk his life for Noah and he gives Noah a little gauntlet to at least keep himself safe when they're apart. he even tells Noah off the bat that he can turn into any car and be sold so Noah can have money for his family. Maybe its the fact that Mirage has been cooped up and told to stay hidden for so long that he can't help but appreciate the first person to "reawaken" him, but regardless their relationship is just extremely refreshing and nice. The way they can bounce off each other is awesome. God i love them so much honestly I can't think of a better duo than these two theyre just perfect for each other whether its platonic or more

#transformers #transformers mirage #noah diaz #mirage #mirage x noah #tf rotb #rise of the beasts #transformers rise of the beasts

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youkaiyume · 1 year

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So, Rise of the Beasts!!

I saw it twice of the weekend, and I want to put down my honest thoughts.

Overall, I had a great time and I definitely think it's worth watching. Ignore the critic reviews for some reason they are offended that a Transformers movie exists to sell toys. You know, their sole purpose since the very beginning of inception. But OF COURSE I have THOUGHTS so...

Spoilers under the cut!

I liked the human characters for the most part. Noah's sudden onboard motives for going with the autobots to Peru was not as convincing but adventure needs to happen so I gave it a pass.

Mirage is like, DTF with Noah. Like he is SO ready for that tiny bf bff. It's obvious that Bee spoke so much about Charlie (cuz it seemed he was the only one who did talk positively about humans in their group) that Mirage was just. HIS BODY WAS READY.

CHARLIE WAS MENTIONED!!! AHHHHH!!! That was the one tiny smidgeon of a crumb that I wanted and they gave it to me. Granted it was implied when Optimus says "I know one was good to you, Bee" But I was told that the Latin America dub had him say Charlie's actual name. There was a SCENE that was cut out according to the Hollywood Reporter--that Bumblebee had also pulled out a polaroid pic that Charlie took of them together from the first movie here to show OP. HE'S BEEN CARRYING AROUND HER PICTURE ALL THESE YEARS I DIE WHY DID YOU CUT THIS OUT!!!

Mirage's abilities seem very arbitrary. And I do not like this. He can turn into several alt modes which seems to be only a thing that he can do... he can mass shift--which I know mass shifting is a thing but when he turns into a truck to sneak past the museum security I was like??? I was always under the impression that the bots could turn into a vehicle relative to their own actual size so this just confuses me. There is supposedly an earlier cut of the film where it was more clear that the trailer was another illusion. which I wish they kept in. Also when he becomes Noah's symbiote suit at the end?? Like, as a shipper and rule of cool I am into it, but as a person who wants rules to ground my science fiction I don't like how Mirage is just a swiss army knife for the writer's convenience. It feels lazy instead of taking the time to actually worldbuild. Nobody else can do these things.

The arbitrary mass shifting of him being as big or as small as he wants (like when he becomes Noah's exosuit) really falls apart when they keep insisting that they need the humans because only they can fit into small spaces. Well, clearly not cuz you can just do it yourself. AGAIN, PLEASE BE CONSISTENT WITH YOUR RULES.

Airazor x Elena. Anyone else????

speaking of which, I am very upset about what happens to Airazor. And we never even got to see her transform. tragic.

Optimus sure was a negative nancy which--I understand why but I hope they ease up on edgy "i will rip everyone's faces off" Optimus because it feels disingenuous to his character to keep it going for too long. Like I get it, they killed your fave child so I will forgive you but also I want more of "Be strong enough to be gentle" Optimus. Not the edgelord Bayverse Optimus that they are clearly going for cuz the know certain :ahem: fans like that.

Beeeee. They put him out of commission which again, according to interviews they did just so they could make sure he doesn't steal the spotlight and give a chance for the other characters to shine lmao. He is too powerful. But also because we shots of him in the trailers, I was not too worried about Bee staying out of commission. But goddamn when if I still wasn't hyped as hell when he made his comeback. 10/10 he proves he's still the GOAT.

I hate Pablo/Wheeljack. No, after seeing the movie my opinion of him did not improve in fact it got so much worse. His design was the LEAST of his problems. Every moment he was on screen was deeply cringe. And he barely did anything!! He could have not been in the movie at all and it wouldn't have made a difference and I genuinely believe it would have been a better film. All this hullaballoo over Pablo and this is what we got. Wheeljack fans lost hard after all that defense I'm sorry this ain't it.

Hey speaking of bots that barely got any lines or screentime, wtf was up with Rhinox and Cheetor? My boys got shafted :(

There was a moment where OP is asking the bots if they detected the terrorcons and Arcee WHO IS SITTING in the pablo van was like "lol nope" and I was like GURL how could you, you're in a van. And it made no sense because don't you also have an altmode??? Shouldn't you be scouting outside to cover more ground???

I firmly believe the only had Arcee sitting in there like a dumb duck because they wanted Wheeljack to make a dumb joke in the original cut about how it was a long time since she was inside him. UGHUGHUGH.

Did I mention how glad I am that they cut the majority of Wheeljack's screentime since it was so awful especially his and Arcee's implied romance? Especially since they killed off the other femmes so the only one we got now has to have a mandatory romance. No thanks. Glad that nonsense is gone.

The Maximals' robot modes were very minimal. and they went by so fast I never got a good look at their designs.

I loved how the Maximals were harmoniously living with the native tribe--and speaking their language!

Scourge's face reveal seemed to be treated like it was a big deal but when we saw him it was just... guy without his wig on. Literally the surprise is that he is bald.

Noah x Mirage is very strong good. I have no doubt the fandom will be all over it since they seem to eat up BL romance much more readily and I am all for it. They also have all the great ingredients for it--flirting, drift compatibility, self sacrifice for the other. Another human x transformer ship for the books.

I'm sure there are some ppl who like the ending. but I.... did not. I do not want to see G.I.Joes in my transformers I'm sorry. I don't want the return of military propaganda or more introductions to several human characters that take away from the transformers. I don't want to see them exploited or used for our own human affairs--even if it's a fictional cult-- when they could be literally fighting Decepticons or Unicron or whatever. People might have wanted them in Bayverse cuz it was heavily skewed Military in those films but I don't want to see it again. It was a terrible, dark time. the Joes might be presented as good guys but I don't trust the military in general and I don't see their motives as altruistic--especially if their goal is to use them for their own purposes. Why would they help them get home? They wouldn't, if just to keep their best weapons--and Noah is bait. He is bait and he will fall for it hook line and sinker because they are bribing him with his brother's healthcare and the fact that he is struggling to find work elsewhere.I hope if they are to be involved at all it will be relegated to characters here and there but they stay in their own movies if they have to ride on Transformers coattails to revive an irrelevant struggling franchise.

There was minimal human injuries/death and I appreciate that. They did the DBZ thing where they took their fight to remote locations. This probably won't keep up if they introduce the Joes :/

Overall, 8/10. I had a fun time. I didn't love it as much as Bumblebee but it was definitely miles better than Bayverse (a low bar I know). The action was clear, the characters likable, the CGI mostly stellar. I have hope that they will bring back Charlie maybe. But hey, I took my parents to it the second time around and my Mom liked Mirage and my Dad did not fall asleep so I will consider that a stamp of approval.

#transformers #rise of the beasts #ROTB #text post #long post #read more under the cut #not so much a review as all of the thoughts i had while watching it

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justsomeonewithdreams · 6 months

Text

More to know pt1

I didn't have enough space so I made a very short part two

Pairing Jake Seresin x Reader

Summary: Where the dagger squad finds out that Hangman didn't tell them everything about him

The Hard Deck is full of pilots when the dagger squad arrives, Hangman and Phoenix go to the counter to order some drinks as the others make their way to a pool table. Rooster is listening to Fanboy explaining him his day and how it all went wrong, but his attention got completely elsewhere as a woman caught his attention by entering the bar. That's when Phoenix comes back waiting for Hangman and the other beers with them. "Oh Rooster, seriously, I'm not even back with the drinks that you already found the woman you want in your bed, not classy man, we're supposed to hang out as a team tonight". Rooster chuckles softly, "When nature calls Phoenix, who am I to disagree?", she laughs too. "Okay, Casanova, if you're that good of a match with her then go talk to her." a grin makes its way to her face andRooster would never back down from a challenge, so he takes his courage and go over there to talk to the girl, leaning against the pillar she's next to and talking into her ear making his breath crash onto her neck. That's all the squad can see and hear as they are not that far but the music in the bar is to loud. The only thing they can see is how the girl smiles at him before pusing him lightly away from her, that's when he comes back to the squad's pool table with now Hangman back, "So how did it go man, what did she say?" Fanboy starts to ask, "She said that I wasn't her type and that she had better things to do tonight.". The squad laughs lightly, but Coyote remarks something, "Hey, what are you loooking at brother?" he asks elbowing playfully Jake attracting the attention of the others. "I'm pretty sure I can go there flirt with her and have her number" is all that Jake say, Rooster with a hit in his pride his ready to take the bet, "How yeah how much are you sure? Fifty?", "Deal" Jake responds shaking hands with him. He puts his beer away on the table and go talk to the girl, she's still in her flight suit like they all are, he takes the same place has rooster leaning against the pillar, all the eyes of the squad his on them and suprisingly, he hangs, it already has been five minutes that they are tzlking and she didn't make him leave yet. As if their eyes couldn't be wider, Jake takes her by the hips making her crash into his chest as they kiss, it's a kiss full of emotion, as questionning looks make their way across the squad Penny comes to ask them something and look where they all are. "Oh you met Y/N Mirage Y/L/N" she say as if it's the most rational thing to say, "Wait thi woman there is the famous Mirage!" Phoenix exclaims, "How did he do it?" Rooster ask to them, Penny laughs litely before answering, "You do know that Jake and Y/N are married right?", everyone's mouth drop to the ground, "Wait Hangman is married and with the famous Mirage!" Fanboy exclaims, "Yeah, it's gonna make five years in october." Penny answers still laughing at the fact they didn't know, "But we never saw him wearing a ring." Rooster says, "It's on their dogtags, you know just in case, I think they never really scream it on the roof not wanting to be compared to the other constantly, she was on another mission but now they can go back to be station together" Penny say sweetly smiling at Jake and Y/N who are coming back to their pool table.

#jake seresin x reader #dagger squad #top gun maverick #top gun hangman #top gun imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x you

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rosenallies · 1 month

Note

May I propose to you the idea of either Jane getting jealous over Mirage being all over Nymphia/or Mirage and Nymphia as exes who are strangely good friends afterwards?

Idk if it'd work in any of the Planymphia AUs you currently have, but I was inspired by this post: https://www.tumblr.com/biblewaterzzz/748398423015915520

Idk if you wanted to just discuss or a prompt but I wanna write this as a prompt so thank u for the idea <3 sorry I made this kinda h/c and soft I’m just sad today <3

——

Jane watched them from across the bar with a deep ache in her stomach. Nymphia’s hips swayed to the music in tandem with Mirage, who pressed into her, whispering in her ear every now and then and laughing.

Realistically, they looked like a pair of close friends, nothing more, but watching them made Jane start to spiral. She wasn’t sure if whatever she was feeling could be classified as jealousy, but whatever it was, she hated it. She hated the way her stomach turned and tears pricked at her eyes as she imagined Nymphia coming up to her and explaining that she’d be much happier with someone like Mirage. And really, who could blame her? Nymphia deserved someone as positive and lighthearted as she is. Deep down inside, since she and Nymphia started dating, Jane wondered how long it would take for Nymphia to get sick of her pessimism and leave her for someone else.

The downward spiral continued into the night, even after they’d said goodbye to their friends and were walking hand in hand back to Nymphia’s apartment. Jane’s mood had sobered her up while Nymphia swayed happily as they walked, wistfully chatting about how much fun she’d had all night.

“Janey, I wish you would’ve danced with us, we were having so much fun!”

Jane laughed to herself, shaking her head. “Looks like you had plenty of fun with Mirage.”

She hadn’t meant it to come across the way it did, but Jane was never one to come across very softly. Nymphia looked up at her, brows furrowed together. “What do you mean?”

Huffing, Jane shook her head. “Nothing.”

“No,” Nymphia stopped them, grabbing ahold of both of Jane’s hands, “it’s not nothing. What’s the matter?”

Jane felt as if she was about to cry, Nymphia looking up at her so tenderly. “C-can we just get back to the apartment, please?”

“Okay, baby,” Nymphia said with a soft smile, lacing their fingers together as they walked the last block back home.

Once they got back, Nymphia kicked her heels off, Jane following suit, the pit still sitting heavy in her stomach. Nymphia turned to her, grabbing both of her hands and kissing the back of them. Jane felt she didn’t deserve her. “Do you want to talk now or get comfy first?”

Jane shrugged. “I guess now would be okay.”

Nymphia nodded and led her to the couch, curling into her side and resting her head on her shoulder. “Tell me what’s on your mind. What’s making my PJ sad?”

“You were having a lot of fun with Mirage,” Jane said plainly, afraid of letting too much spill out, all her secret insecurities she hid with jokes and jabs and a deluded sense of self confidence.

“I would’ve had more fun of you joined us on the dance floor. Is that what you’re upset about? Are you jealous?”

Feeling her cheeks burn, Jane shrugged again. “I don’t know, I guess?”

If Jane were in a better mood about it, Nymphia might’ve teased her, but Nymphia could tell this wasn’t a playful jealousy, it was one laced with uncertainty and insecurity. “Jane, Mirage is just a friend. You have nothing to worry about with her.”

“Maybe not with her,” Jane whispered under her breath.

“What do you mean? Who else would you have to worry about?”

“Just-just forget it. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Jane should’ve known Nymphia wouldn’t allow her to shut her away, but she was taken off guard when Nymphia gently turned Jane’s face toward hers. “We really should though.”

Sighing, Jane nodded, Nymphia was right. “I worry you’re going to leave me for someone like Mirage. I know you two are just close friends but I watching the way she was touching you and was all over you made me start thinking about how you deserve someone better than me.”

“Better than you? I don’t think there’s anything better than you, though. I want to be with you, no one else.”

“You don’t think I’m a bad person or that I come across too abrasive?”

“I don’t think that at all, I wouldn’t be with you if I thought that and trust me, I want to be with you. I want to be with you all the time.”

“You do?”

“Mmhm,” Nymphia hummed, nuzzling into Jane once more, “all the time.”

If Jane had thought about it some more, she would’ve chosen her next words more carefully but as she laced her fingers with Nymphia’s, she let her heart speak for her. “I love you.”

It was the first time either of them had said it, even though Jane had been thinking it for weeks. For a moment, Nymphia looked taken aback and then her face softened. She leaned over and gently kissed Jane before whispering quietly, “I love you too.”

#planymphia office au #prompt request

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eddies-ashtray · 2 years

Text

Cherry Flavoured // Eddie Munson x GN!Reader

masterlist

Synopsis: Riding bikes down Hawkins backroads with your new boyfriend Eddie, you continue to adjust to your new relationship. You knew what he was like as a friend, but as a boyfriend, Eddie is far cheekier, protective, and tender with you than ever.

WC: 3.0k

Category: Fluff. Some sexually suggestive content.

Content: Boyfriend Eddie, new relationship, reader and Eddie are the same age, reader and Eddie make out a bit (at a gas station), reader loves stingrays, reader is easily flustered by Eddie, kinda innocent reader, reader wears Eddie’s clothes, allusion to sex (only briefly), and this is kinda cheesy because they like each other a whole awful lot!

♡*♡*♡

It was overcast today; not as hot as a usual mid-August day typically was in Hawkins. It had rained so many days this week and last, but no rain in the forecast today. So it was perfect weather to haul your bikes out and go for a ride. Eddie had actually been the one to suggest it, wanting not to waste the non-rainy day with you. Though no time spent with him could possibly be wasted, no matter what you were doing.

Neither of you mentioned your return to college in the fall; it didn’t matter today. All that mattered was Eddie and you and your bikes that were probably a little too short for the both of you. But you didn’t mind as it was a really lovely afternoon with your really lovely boyfriend. You’d tell him so later on and he wouldn’t question the adjective because ultimately it was the only word that suited how it felt to be with each other that day.

For now though, you were laughing at Eddie’s silly joke about some movie you had watched last night while you coasted down the empty street a couple blocks from Forest Hills that stretched on and on in front of you, the pavement sizzling in the distance; a mirage.

All the way out on the backroads of your tiny town, you couldn’t hear the sounds of children or lawnmowers, just the birds chirping overhead and the cicadas humming in the trees, their occasional rustling in the wind a comfort to you.

Despite the town’s shortcomings and strange goings-on, you liked it here sometimes. Maybe that had a lot to do with Eddie’s presence. He made things more bearable. Could make anything feel far easier than it would have done if you were on your own; he had that way about him.

“Race ya to the stop sign up there?” You propose, nodding to the sign about 100 feat ahead with a grin.

Eddie matches your grin with his own wolfish one; one that told you he was about to start racing toward the red sign without so much as a count down or the word “go”.

Just as you thought, Eddie began to pedal hard towards the sign, hair flying behind him as the wind whipped his face.

“Cheater!” You shout playfully as you race off after him.

As you near him, you could hear his maniacal laughter; deep and loud, but boyish, satisfied that he’d tricked you.

Of course, Eddie won the race with his head start. You probably couldn’t have beaten him even if it had been a fair contest anyway, so you really didn’t mind. Loved to see the glee on his face anyway as you both slow to a stop at the sign, less than a meter between your bikes.

“I won! And you lost, sweetheart. I expected so much more from you,” Eddie jokes, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

Pouting at him as you pant, you say, “You’re mean, Eddie.” But there was no real hurt behind the statement.

“Nah, you’re just a sore loser, baby.” He teases, smirking.

Dropping the act, you comment fondly, “You’re ridiculous.” And he can probably see the hearts in your eyes.

Eddie stares at you for a moment as you catch your breath, brown eyes soft as his big grin melts into something more sweet.

Planting his right foot on the ground, Eddie leans over, hand coming to the small of your back as he kisses your cheek.

You feel your wind whipped face warm at the gesture, affection blooming in your chest.

“What was that for?” You question, eyes wide as he settles back into a normal position on the bike.

“Just look so pretty,” He states easily, pushing his hair away from his face, and then, c’mon he says, looking down the road, left, then right before slowly beginning to pedal across the intersection.

“And felt guilty for cheating?” You quip, following shortly behind him.

Eddie zig-zags in the road, swaying away from you, then towards you in small arcs on the bike. He looks to you as he sways towards you, a faux sympathetic look on his face before he says, “Nope!”, popping the “p”.

Your jaw drops at that and you laugh, an incredulous sound. Though you expected nothing different to come out of his pretty mouth.

Eddie grins at your expression (it seems to be the only thing either of you can do today), then nods up the road and suggests, “I’ll make it up to you by buying us some slushy’s. How’s that?”

Forgetting all about his teasing, you light up at the promise of the cold, sweet drink. It wasn’t sticky hot out like it had been all summer, but it was still warm. And besides, you love slushy’s. Who doesn’t?

“Yes! I would die for a slushy right now!” You exaggerate, suddenly pedalling harder, thighs burning.

You hear Eddie laugh a fond laugh behind you at your enthusiasm for the drink before he catches back up to you and you both slow back down again.

Coming up ahead is a small hill in the road and you and Eddie remain quiet until you reach the top, pedalling hard again and panting slightly. Once you crest the hill, the gentle slope carries you down the other side and you and Eddie holler and whoop all the way to the bottom. You hadn’t had such fun on bikes since you were a child.

The road flattens out again and you coast for a while without having to pedal at all.

You drift away from Eddie for a moment, taking the space to zig zag on the bike just as he had earlier.

“Come back,” He requests, his ringed hand leaving the bike handle, reaching towards you with his palm facing towards the sky.

Knowing just what he’s asking, you beam at him brightly as you ride closer to him once again and lift one of your own hands from the bikes’ handlebar to grasp Eddie’s hand.

You ride like that for some time, hands clasped together, pedalling along slowly, bike tires crushing over gravel. Every once in a while, Eddie will create a wider berth between the two of you, stretching your arms out, but never letting go and always coming back to each other, hands held comfortably between you and your bikes.

———

It wasn’t long before you arrived at the gas station. At least it didn’t feel like it was long; time seemed different when you were with Eddie.

Sitting on the sidewalk outside the small building, you and Eddie drink up the cold beverages. You moan at the taste of the cherry flavoured treat, delighted.

Eddie gives you a sidelong glance, eyebrows raising at the sound.

“Cherry flavour that good, huh?” He says it like he’s teasing you for something, though you aren’t sure what.

“Mm-hm,” You hum happily, nodding with the extra long straw still tucked between your lips.

Eddie’s eyes linger on your reddened mouth before he asks, “Can I have a taste?”

Eddie got blue-raspberry flavour. So, you stop sucking on the straw and offer your drink to him.

He stares at the styrofoam cup for a beat (now only half full, he’s sure) then finally takes it from you. Instead of taking a sip, however, Eddie places it on the sidewalk between you. You give him a puzzled expression, brows furrowing together.

“Not how I meant, baby. C’mere,” Eddie requests softly, a gentle smile on his face as he shuffles closer to you, gravel crunching beneath his white Reeboks as he does so. Your eyes grow wide at his suggestion, but you shift closer to him as well.

Eddie’s index finger comes up under your chin as his thumb rests on your chin; the gesture so gentle your breath gets caught in your throat momentarily.

Eddie leans in then, his lips brushing against your own as he kisses you sweetly. Your hands fall naturally to his thick thigh, resting there as you kiss him back and he maneuvers his hand to your cheek, holding you.

Even when his blue pink tongue licks into your mouth leisurely, the kiss is tender, your mouths moving together in tandem. A small spark ignites in your belly as you bite back a moan. Boldly, you lick slowly into his mouth, the taste of blue-raspberry and cherry mingling.

You were still new to the whole boyfriend thing, not yet fully used to having him kiss you like this, especially not in public (though there weren’t many people around). You’re not sure you ever would get used to this and you were more than okay with that. You couldn’t imagine the novelty ever wearing off with Eddie.

Eddie pulls back slowly, your mouths making a soft wet sound as you part. He remains close, dark eyes opening with yours, searching your own. He knows he’s affected you. You’re a little embarrassed that that’s all it takes.

“You’re right,” Eddie smirks. “Cherry’s delicious,” His breath ghosts your chin and lips as he speaks. He gives you one more quick kiss on your slightly parted mouth before leaning back on his hands casually as he picks his slushy back up, sipping at it leisurely.

Now, you sit thigh to thigh, knee to knee on the sidewalk, no space between you at all.

“Um,” You grapple to come up with something to say after that, your slushy remaining abandoned beside you.

All you can think of, quite arbitrarily, is, “Have you ever pet a stingray before?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows at you, surprised by the random question, and pulls his mouth away from the slushy straw.

“Pet a stingray?”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t say I have, no.”

The question was random, but now you were excited by the topic and wanted to continue the conversation.

“Well,” you begin, picking your slushy back up and taking a quick sip as you turn to face him on the sidewalk, one foot planted on the ground and the other leg bent to rest on the concrete, your bare calf brushing Eddie’s thigh.

“Their backs are soft; kinda slimy, but soft. It’s pretty incredible,” You take another long sip of your slushy when you finish.

Some slushy dribbles down your chin when you pull the straw away from your mouth and before you can swipe it away, Eddie does so for you. His thumb brushes your chin and then he sucks the digit into his mouth, humming.

“Where’d you pet a stingray?” Eddie asks curiously as he pops his thumb out of his mouth.

You stutter for a moment, trying to get back on track, “I, um…I went to an aquarium with my parents when I was a kid,” You finally respond.

Eddie smiles softly as you continue, listening intently as you recite the memory.

“They had this huge touch tank full of ‘em,” You say, gesturing widely with your hands to demonstrate. “And it’s like they knew that people were there to see them cause they would come up to the sides of the tank like they wanted to be pet!”

Eddie traces patterns into your calf as you speak and you think he spells out his name once.

Then, an idea. You gasp as it comes to you and grasp the hand he has on your calf excitedly with both of your own, “Can we go? It’d be so fun! I wanna show you the stingrays, Eddie! I want you to pet them too!” You enthuse.

Eddie’s dark eyes shine as he assures, squeezing your hands in his, “Yeah, yeah, we’ll make a day of it.”

You smile wide at him, pleased by his answer, and are just about to start babbling on about the little trip when a boom sounds overhead; thunder. You jump at the unexpected sound.

Looking up to the sky, Eddie says, “Shit.” as he grips your hand and hauls you up from the sidewalk. You go willingly, allowing him to pull you to a standing position.

“Storm’s coming in,” He comments, grabbing your nearly empty slushy’s from the sidewalk and tossing them into the metal trashcan on the corner.

“I thought it wasn’t supposed to rain today,” You mention idly as Eddie walks back to your bikes that were leaning up against the small building.

“Yeah, well, we better get going now before we’re caught in the storm.”

———

The storm rolls in quickly, as they often seemed to this summer; thick grey clouds unfurling above your heads, heavy with rain ready to release any second. The impending storm blanketing Hawkins in a dark sky.

Thunder hadn’t stopped booming above you the whole ride home; pedalling furiously down the backroads to return to the trailer park before the rain inevitably began to fall in great sheets around you. Your first sighting of lightening occurred about 10 minutes from Eddie’s trailer.

“Eddie, we’re gonna get soaked!” You shout as the dark sky lit up with another striking bolt.

“No, no, we can make it,” He assures, though another look at the sky tells you he’s definitely wrong, the clouds stretching across the sky menacingly.

Eddie was almost right; the Forest Hills entrance was just ahead about 20 feet. Very soon, you and Eddie turn left into the park, panting with exertion, your thighs burning.

Then, a downpour; sudden and shocking as it pounds the earth and wets your skin and hair.

“Shit!” Eddie exclaims over the pounding rain as you coast down the now slick dirt road.

Quickly dropping your bikes to the grass outside his trailer, Eddie grabs your hand as you both rush up the trailers’ concrete steps, pushing inside the living space.

With the door slamming shut behind you, chests both heaving in the quiet of the trailer, you look to Eddie, now soaked with rain water, his hair dripping and flatter than usual. You think he looks very silly like this so you couldn’t help yourself when a peel of laughter streams from your mouth then, chest vibrating with it as you stood in his warm, dry living room. You’d never seen his hair wet before; it wasn’t your fault he resembled some sort of wet animal. Then it came to you.

“You look like a wet dog!” You snort an unattractive sound, bending slightly at the knees and grasping your thighs as your hysterical laughter transforms into gleeful giggles.

Eddie’s just grinning and shaking his head; amused by your amusement.

But your laughter dies in your throat as Eddie removes his black t-shirt, pulling it over his head from the back of the neck. Suddenly, a stretch of damp skin is revealed to you; his tattoos and happy trail like magnets to your eyes as you drag your gaze over him, breathing deeply.

Eddie notices your ogling, but doesn’t comment on it, running his tongue over his bottom lip before he says, “Lemme get you a towel, baby. You’ll catch a cold,” and walks down the hall to the bathroom, hair dripping down his naked back.

You hear some shuffling, Eddie moving things around, and then he reappears (wearing a dry shirt now), one fluffy white towel slung over his shoulder, and another in his hands he’s using to ring out his soaked hair.

Slinging the towel in his hand over his shoulder, he trades it out for the one on his other shoulder and wraps it around your shoulders as you shiver. Though you think it has more to do with his touch than the slight chill the rain had induced.

As he rubs over your shoulders gently, you take the time to look over his pretty face; its slightly angular shape, his gentle eyes, so dark, yet soft and somehow shining, the red tip of his nose, the gentle pout of his pink mouth.

Slowing his movements on your arms, he smiles softly at your loving stare, “What?”

“Just…I like you a whole awful lot is all. And today was really lovely. And you’re so good to me and-” You sigh a content sigh, a tad overwhelmed with emotion. “Just happy.”

“Just happy,” Eddie repeats after a moment. “And I, too, like you a whole awful lot,” He parrots dramatically, then peppers quick kisses all over your face, making dramatic mwah noises as he goes and you giggle at his actions.

Then, one final kiss to your cheek where Eddie lingers for a moment before pulling back as you continue to laugh lightly at his silliness and affection.

“Okay, now let’s get you some clothes that aren’t soaked, yeah?” He suggests as he pushes you gently by the small of your back towards his bedroom.

There, Eddie allows you to pick whatever you like out of his closet (much to your excitement). After picking out a soft hoodie and some old sweats of his, you were delighted to be wrapped up in his scent, breathing in deeply as you collapse dramatically on his bed, arms spread out beside you.

For the rest of the afternoon and into the night, you stay cuddled up in Eddie’s trailer marathoning movies and planning your trip to the aquarium. You play with Eddie’s hair as he lays his head in your lap, and he even allows you to French braid it into two pretty plaits. He asks to hear more about stingrays and you tell him how a group of them is called a “fever”. You ask him about his upcoming DnD campaign and what songs he’s learning on the guitar at the moment. He even plays them for you.

Later, you kiss and kiss on his bed and that spark that ignited in your belly earlier as he kissed you at the gas station becomes an untamed fire as his kisses stray from your mouth and down, down, down…

***

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you thought in my ask box and reblog to spread my work and leave a lil comment! It really helps :)

Taglist: @screameddie, @k1ngeddie, @wannabestarkeysgirl

Wanna be tagged in new fics?

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gn reader #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson reader insert #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader

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bi-lullaby · 4 months

Text

So I really loved the PJO show. I wish we get a second season, and a fourth and so on all the way through heroes of olympus because it’s just so good. If you feel like reading my (NOT spoiler free) rambles:

- Percy’s loyalty and dedication to his mom is just so integral to his character and they RESPECT THAT.

- I really like what I’ve seen mentioned about how both casting wise and storyline changes wise there have been some adaptations that were less “lol lets change it” and more to connect better with today’s audience and cultural paradigm. Like Annabeth being blonde because of the stereotype of “the dumb blonde” that was so prevalent in the era the books were released versus her being Black showcasing the extreme undermining Black women go through instead, or Luke being less 00s/10s boyband boy looking and more tiktok softboy looking now, but also Sally being less 100% perfect and more active in the story and upbringing of Percy as both a hero and a demigod and Luke being less cool and detached and more… Sweet? Emotional?

- I did feel pretty meh about a few changes: Zeus immediately accepting that Kronos is scheming and is a threat (Ik they couldn’t know if they’ll get that far but it cuts the stakes of the third book by a lot if there’s no pressing time limit to get Artemis back to Olympus to convince the Gods into action if they’ve been Doing Stuff for two years now, and even the second book loses a little in regards to the behind-the-scenes political climate that leas to it being what it was). Luke going to every length not to kill Percy is such a 180° from the books it was a little jarring and I feel it cuts out how much of a Menace he was and how bitter/jealous he was of Percy. Like we could have seen their bonding and even Luke trying to recruit him but I’d still have liked to see the scorpion scene so the betrayal and anger and wariness Percy feels is that much deeper and bitter and personal like in the books.

- I’m of two minds about the entire Gabe arch. Like on one hand I do understand toning him down (including his demise) for the public’s intended audience, I even think it kinda goes along the adapting to new times by showing that the useless, insensitive, disrespectful aspect of a bad husband is harmful just as the “darker”, more explicitly abusive/exploitative and mean drunk book version, but on the other I feel like he had such an impact on Percy in the books (he’s literally the Oracle’s “mirage” for his prophecy, he thinks of his smell in tartarus), and I really had loved the line “you’ll fail to save what matters most in the end” coming true because Sally saves herself - although the post I’ve seen about his fate showcasing how his lack of respect was his doom did make me appreciate it a little more.

- The only castings (or maybe it was the directing and styling of them more so) that I can’t really get behind are Hades and Hephaestus. Hades felt like they were going for the Disney’s Hercules comedic relief one in a slightly toned down costume. None of the gravitas and intimidation, he didn’t feel like a god at any point. And Hephaestus was just… So different. He’s supposed to be a deeply secluded, antisocial, gruffy mechanic who’s self sequestered by his inventions and forges. The show version looked like an eccentric professor more than anything imo. Which I feel could be one modern retelling of Hephaestus in another series, but isn’t the one we had and, imo, doesn’t go as well with the rest of the vibe. Which is a shame bc I do feel like Timothy could have been used in a way that would work fantastically for those vibes.

- Lin Manuel Miranda’s, acting actually shocked me. I never really had a Hamilton phase but I am on tumblr so I was expecting something cringe and honestly, I thought it was good (and to bring it back to Hades: Hermes in sweats and a hoodie actually gave me the feeling of “this is merely a cover to a deep well of power” than Hades in his suit and dark colors ever did)

- Meanwhile, perfect Ares casting. Yes this man is beefing with (and losing to) 12yos but he’s also an ancient force that revels in bloodshed and carnage.

- Annabeth from the show encapsulates the character so well while also bringing her own notes to it. Like as time went on back in my peak pjo days I felt she got “Hermionified” by the fandom too much? And I lost sight of how fond I was of her but the show (and having reread the books) really rekindled that and made me remember why she is a force to be reckoned with and also someone that must be protected at all costs. I cannot express enough how much my fondness was reignited.

- Like I feel this could be a whole post but basically I feel the books showcase the “ideal” characteristics the gods and their kids could have versus how they wind up twisted into something else (Percy’s sea-like indomitable spirit vs several of his brethren’s ruthlessness and disregard for what’s good) and Annabeth feels like, beyond amassing knowledge for it’s sake… She wants to actually Learn, and in the show maybe even to a deeper degree than in the books and it is endearing and very enthralling.

- On that note, Leah, Walker… This is supposed to be a SLOWburn goddamit. Like in the books you can see where it’s headed but in the show they have such silly crushes I can barelyy stand it. My children.

- Speaking of Walker that kid IS Percy like you cannot convince me otherwise. Disney farmed him for this role.

- I actually really loved Poseidon having a british accent? Idk, something about england and nautical exploration and it feeling older and more… Powerful? Like the ocean

- And Zeus had all the “I’m the god amongst kings and king amongst gods” that I’d have expected from him. He was crackling with power and that was beautiful to see. What a tragic loss.

- Grover is my precious child (although I do wish we had gotten the silly, goat like details of him like eating cans and making the bleating noises). And since the last book I finished rereading was the Battle of the Labyrinth (where I cried like a baby at Pan’s death) watching this sweetheart getting all excited with his literal flower searches license? Made me wanna weep.

- Overall most of my criticisms that came to mind besides the alterations I cited came from being hushed because of too few eps and those being too short. Really really hope the next season (fingers crossed) we’ll get like, 15+ eps (and/or at least longer eps) so we can really sink into the meat and potatoes of it all.

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo show #my thoughts #text #spoilers #pjo spoilers

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bluebird-the-seeker · 1 year

Text

Let’s Talk about Rise of the Beasts!

So I just finished watching Rise of the Beasts in theatres, and here are some things I noticed:

Optimus acknowledges Bumblebee’s relationship with Charlie from the Bumblebee movie, confirming that the two movies take place in the same universe and that ROTB, while not exactly being a sequel, is a continuation of that universe.

Scourge’s badges display various Autobot badges, Decepticon badges, Predacon, and maximal badges. This confirms the existence of all these factions within the established universe and sets up potential new characters such as Blackarachnia or Dinobot.

Scourge mentions “Primus would be ashamed” when he discovers that Optimus is a Prime, introducing the cybertronian religious aspects we usually only hear about in the comics or in TV shows, such as the lineage of Primes or the original 13 and their connection with Primus.

I didn’t think Pablo could get any worse from the promo art and yet somehow he got way worse the moment he started talking and I’m glad he wasn’t in the movie all that much.

I still wish we could’ve seen the bot modes of the Maximals, we only see them transform in battle and it’s not very clear what they look like. Airazor didn’t transform at all.

The ending of the movie not only sets us up for a sequel, but an entire new continuity and expanded universe. Plus with the introduction of G.I. Joe, one of many references to things we really only see in the comics, there’s a possibility for things like Skywarp’s involvement with G.I. Joe, Marissa Fairborne, Thundercracker, etc.

The G.I. Joe operative that Noah speaks with mentions that they’re “in the middle of a war”. This can be connected back to the Bumblebee movie and the arrival of Decepticons on earth, and could potentially set us up with the main Decepticon/Autobot war in a next film.

They wrote Optimus so well and I love that it shows Optimus building trust with humans instead of having that trust already be established. Very refreshing. His dynamic with Primal was wonderful.

Mirage being able to turn into a suit that Noah can wear is something I personally don’t think has ever been shown in Transformers before in any media or comics? I could be wrong but it’s definitely very very rare if not a completely new concept.

Using Arrival to Earth for the last epic moments was a punch to the gut like wow my feels. And I don’t even like the bayverse movies.

I love how they gave a legitimate reason why Scourge was so powerful instead of just going “oh he’s just really strong and hard to kill” but no Unicron buffed the hell out him.

When Araizor was being taken over by Scourge I gasped and whispered “rust plague” cause if you know you know that disease is a bitch.

Finally humans I can actually tolerate in a Transformers movie.

There’s a lot of potential for this new cinematic universe (I hope)! They left it very open ended and allowed space for all sorts of stuff both from the Comics, the other live action movies, and even the TV shows in terms of references and characters and even plot lines. It’s a perfect grab bag of various Transformers media wrapped nicely with a bow for both new Transformers viewers and old ones.

THEY FINALLY LET BUMBLEBEE SWEAR-

#maccadam #rotb #rise of the beasts #transformers #rotb spoilers #Starscream WHEN #please every show and movie has been dangling the carrot in front of my face #like stop teasing and just give me the goods already

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shankss-magnificent-ass · 2 years

Note

Hi! May i know how King will react to his S/O says something dirty to him in public? Not a request, just curious, because lately I'm so into him 😳👉👈 Just ignore this if you want to, thanks! ✨

Imagine King reacting to you dirty talking him in public

King: *marching down the hallway towards the meeting room* hurry up, if you make me late to this meeting I will not be happy.

You: *running just to keep up with him,* I can't run any faster!

King: you're so slow!

You: then carry me you idiot!

King: what do I look like? A pony?....don't answer that.

You: *mutters under your breath* Horse's don't usually wear gimp masks, sir.

King: What was that?

You: I said, I understand why you would want to carry me, but we both need to attend the meeting, and you are responsible for me sir. So carrying me is the only way we can both get to the meeting and not be late. Unless you have a better idea, big boy.

King: *stops in his tracks, sighs, and crouches down,* climb on my back, you'll have to stand under my wing, so you don't get burned.

You: *hooks your feet into his belt and holds onto his shoulder spikes*

Several weeks later during a meeting

You: *stands on his back during pretty much every day because King hates waiting for you*

King: *whispers, so only you can hear him* I've been carrying around quite a lot lately, and your fat ass is starting to stretch out my belt.

You: You usually like my fat ass, and if that's a problem then perhaps we should get you a pretty little harness that would give me a place to stand. Would you like that, handsome?

King: *his mind immediately goes into the gutter* I don't know.

You: it would probably have to go under your coat, so we don't ruin the lines of your suit too much. Although your suit is pretty tight already, it leaves very little to the imagination. Not that I mind too much.

King: *starting to make the air around him steam* ... I know you don't.

You: *absent-mindedly running your finger over the muscles on his shoulders* oh how so?

King: I catch you staring quite frequently, which I don't mind.

You: I bet you don't, just as I don't mind you when you watch me bathe, you voyeuristic pervert.

King: *starting to get really flustered, and he has to focus on staying still* So I was right, you did know I was there.

You: yes, I hoped you liked the show I put on for you.

King: *starting to get worked up* I ... it did the trick.

You: *purrs* you'll have to repay the favor sometime.

King: *really hopes no one looks t the two of you because he knows he's causing heat mirages, and he has a massive boner*

You: *decides to how him mercy* now about that harness, maybe it could have a function besides giving me a place to stand. Something a little more fun, for both of us.

King: *clears his throat * I'll put in an order.

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #king the wildfire #king the conflagration #king the conflagration x reader #king the wildfire x reader #from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma original #8/30/22 #no beta we die like men

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wordsandrobots · 14 days

Text

IBO reference notes on . . . pilot ability

I was typing this up as an author note on the latest chapter of Wishing on Space Hardware and it overflowed any sane word count for such a note, so I'm pulling it out as its own thing.

Basically, when thinking about how good a pilot is in the Iron-Blooded Orphans setting, I tend to group them into one or more of the following categories:

Also-ran. The jobbing pilots, like the Dort and SAU workers or the pirate grunts Shino and 598 beat up in Urdr Hunt. People who have some ability and maybe a little bit of training but don't necessarily know much more than a few basic moves.

Formally-trained. By this, I tend to mean formal military training, though not necessarily training in a military context. Just that they've been explicitly taught to fight in an organised manner. Almost everyone in Gjallarhorn is in this bracket, along with the Turbines, much of Teiwaz, probably a lot of the Dawn Horizon's better pilots, and the non-augmented people in Tekkadan.

Expert. While most of these are not intended as tiers by themselves, this group extends out of the previous one. These are people who've really dedicated their lives to perfecting their piloting ability. I tend to take Amida as the high end of this category, though McGillis is also a good example. Lots of experience and theoretical understanding to go along with their basic skill-level, which makes them extra dangerous on the battlefield.

Gifted. The people who, for whatever reason, are innately talented when it comes to flying mobile suits. There's not much more to say about them; whatever you need to operate one of these machines, they have it in spades, even without formal training.

Augmented. And finally, of course, you have the people who use the Alaya-Vijnana (or AV-adjacent technology). Obviously this creates a massive starting advantage, allowing most people with whiskers to easily out-match any also-rans they fight and even a considerable proportion of trained pilots, simply because they can react faster and more instinctually. However, it's not an automatic win. Season 1 Shino vs Ein is my go-to example for this: Shino has a lot of advantages from his A-V system but Ein is able to neutralise them via his greater training and experience.

And that's where the ranking comes into it. When I'm making claims about someone being 'a good pilot', in response to what's on screen or while developing a fanfic character, I'm positioning them within one of these categories and then seeing how things work out if you match them up with others.

Let's have ourselves some lists. Some spoilers to follow.

Also-ran

Range Dubrisko ([from the Urdr Hunt game] a former pirate so I'm guessing he falls here; also he's not exactly brilliant at this stuff)

Argi Mirage ([from the Moon Steel manga] I feel Argi epitomises a 'good' also-ran pilot: he starts with no mobile suit training and learns rapidly on the job)

Wistario Afam ([the main character of Urdr Hunt] at least, this is where Wiz *should* go based on his stated mobile suit experience, and yet he's able to out-fight veterans. He's probably therefore a case of also-ran+augmentation but explanations are still pending on that)

Formally-trained

Iok Kujan (regrettably I must concede that he has to have had *some* training; clearly it didn't take and he represents the nadir of this group)

Hush Middy (a bit unfair to place him right after Iok since he's leagues better, but he's a trainee pilot throughout the entirety of Season 2 and is a more realistic 'low end' of the category)

Orlis Stenja

Coral Conrad

Major Bradley ([from the Urdr Hunt game] places higher than Coral on the grounds of lasting slightly more than five seconds)

Coriis Stenja (he at least survived multiple attempts to fight Tekkadan so he's got to be better than his brother)

Ein Dalton (does nothing all that special until Events Transpire and then he changes categories entirely; however he does handle a Schwalbe Graze right off the bat which is meant to be tricky)

Crank Zent

Isurugi Camice

Carta Issue (I place her higher than the rest because I assume she'd have received more training by virtue of her position; she's just kind of hamstrung by lacking practical experience)

Tamami Rokou ([from the Urdr Hunt game] a Turbine, and she does pull off some fancy moves)

Londo Bron ([from the Urdr Hunt game] I figure Londo is probably more driven than Carta when it comes to learning to be a good pilot; he's likely near the top of this group and I'm only not placing him in the next one because he doesn't seem especially inventive)

Cyclase Meyer ([from the Urdr Hunt game] possibly the most capable pilot I'd hesitate to call an expert, although it is a little hard to gauge where his ability actually lies. However, he does wipe out numerous Graze squads and Omden grunts single-handed, in a notoriously hard-to-use machine, so he's got to be pretty capable)

Expert

Azee Gurumin (somewhere on the cusp of formally-trained and expert, leaning towards the latter)

Galan Mossa (seems like he really knows his stuff, although he doesn't get to show off much in the show itself; expert by dint of being a veteran, I would say)

McGillis Fareed (I tend to see him as being driven to learn how to be a good pilot rather than naturally gifted; eventually expert+augmentation, which explains why he can take on an entire fleet's worth of mobile suits by himself)

Amida Arca (I'll always stand by the claim Amida is the best pilot in the show, simply based on how thoroughly she out-classes the people she goes up against. She might be expert+gifted to some degree, but I honestly prefer to think of her as just having years more experience than anyone else.

Gifted

Gaelio Bauduin (yes, really -- my view on Gaelio is that he's a gifted pilot whose innate talent led to getting lazy on the formal side of things, which is why McGillis runs rings around him. Ultimately boosts himself with augmentation to make up the difference)

Lafter Frankland (given her initial fighting style, I feel she fits here; gifted+formally-trained)

Julieta Juris (the poster-child for this group; she's obviously also gifted+formally-trained but it's plain from her side-story that she was supremely good at piloting from the get-go)

Augmented

Eugene Sevenstark (Eugene doesn't actually ever get to pilot a mobile suit with his A-V since the King's Throne doesn't have one, but the implication seems to be he's kind of crap at it)

Elga

Embi

Hirume

Trow

Takaki Uno

Ride Mass

Chad Chaden

Dante Mogro (these aren't really rankings at this point; this is just where most of Tekkadan falls)

Aston Altland

Derma Altland

Masahiro Altland

598 ([from the Urdr Hunt game] seems pretty good at this and also like he's been flying a lot longer than most of Tekkadan have; same with the Brewers kids listed immediately prior)

Norba Shino (Shino's skill level rises notably as he gets more training but he remains third in the pack by a long chalk)

Akihiro Altland (augmented+formal-training, and he doesn't know what to do with his life except work and train so he gets really, really good at it)

Mikazuki Augus (the nuclear option of augmented+gifted, where 'gifted' equates to 'a horrifying capacity for violence owing to a really screwed-up sense of his own worth')

Now, obviously this isn't an exhaustive list. But you get the idea. Someone can be in a category where you think they'd have a natural advantage, yet be out-classed by someone at the very top of another. By rights, Julieta should be much, much better than Mikazuki, since she has a lot more formal training. However, his A-V system and greater sacrifice in using it means he's able to pushing himself much further than her. Similarly, Amida being vastly more experienced out in the real world means Julieta comes up short against her. Conversely, while Argi lacks the grounding to be a good pilot, he is dogged enough to power through against Gjallarhorn-trained pilots, in a machine that is a cut above theirs.

(That's another big factor in deciding the outcome of battles. Having written quite a lot of fight scenes over the years, I can safely say it helps to have in-built factors that can assist you in getting the outcome you want and the individual capabilities of mobile suits is a great one. Especially you can twist it around to show that a really skilled pilot can make a less powerful machine work for them. Galan's Geirail thwomping Julieta's Graze in her side-story is a perfect illustration of this technique.)

Anyway, I don't have any deeper conclusions to draw from all this, I just thought it might be interesting to explain what's behind my reasoning. To bring a long, meandering point to a close, this is where the Goibniu Unit test pilots fall:

Kipchoge Ordsley (original flavour) -- formally-trained (mid range)

Mackenzie Croft -- formally-trained, (high end)

Pele Torvalds -- expert (high end, veteran)

Lowri Lin -- expert (high end)+gifted (low end)

Ahmed Fahim -- gifted (high end)+formally-trained (high end)

Norba Shino -- augmented+formally-trained (mid range)+expert (broad experience)

Other reference posts include:

IBO reference notes on … Gjallarhorn (Part 1)

IBO reference notes on … Gjallarhorn (Part 2)

IBO reference notes on … Gjallarhorn (corrigendum) [mainly covering my inability to recognise mythical wolves]

IBO reference notes on … three key Yamagi scenes

IBO reference notes on … three key Shino scenes

IBO reference notes on … three key Eugene scenes

IBO reference notes on … three key Ride scenes

IBO reference notes on … the tone of the setting

IBO reference notes on … character parallels and counterpoints

IBO reference notes on … a perfect villain

IBO reference notes on … Iron-Blooded Orphans: Gekko

IBO reference notes on … an act of unspeakable cruelty

IBO reference notes on … original(ish) characters [this one is mainly fanfic]

IBO reference notes on … Kudelia’s decisions

IBO reference notes on … assorted head-canons

IBO reference notes on … actual, proper original characters [explicit fanfic – as in, actually fanfic. None of them have turned up in the smut yet]

IBO reference notes on … the aesthetics of the mobile frame

IBO reference notes on … mobile suit designations

IBO reference notes on … the Gundams (part 1)

IBO reference notes on … the Gundams (part 2)

IBO reference notes on … the Gundams (part 3)

IBO reference notes on … the Turbines, or ‘Tekkadan done right’

IBO reference notes on … the Gundams (Addendum 1)

IBO reference notes on … deals with the devil

IBO reference notes on … odds and ends

#gundam iron blooded orphans #gundam ibo #g tekketsu #tekketsu no orphans #reference #notes #fanfic

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friendlyneighbourhood-parker · 2 years

Text

nagging and napping

pairing: Steven grant x reader, Marc spector x reader, Jake lockley x reader

Summary: after a good-bye party for Layla you get hurt and the moonboys have to manage taking care of you on their own ways while making sure you remember that this wasn't your fault

Word count: 12 k

Warnings: child abuse, wendy's mentioned, panic attacks, wound patching as a way of showing affection, implied smut, the wounds really don't make sense i'm sorry, intrussive thoughts, negative self talk, mentions of blood and wounds angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort

A/N: This wasn't supposed to be so long nor take as much time to write as it did! this started as a bucky fic back when Falcon and the winter soildier was airing but never really liked it. now I love it and loved writting it so I hope you guys like it too! also I think it looks way nicer on ao3 but if you want to read it here I won't be mad about it

special thanks to my amaizing betta reader @devilish-mirage her notes and sweet words are what motivated me to continue!

also to @bassist-vortex whom I now own a lollypop bcs it's longer than 6k and didn't mind when I texted him at 2 am about being so fucking done drafting this.

Come on, breathe

In, out. In, out. One, two, three

“Fucking hell!!!” You winced avoiding to look his way, your hands quickly trailing up to cover your mouth, muffling the string of curses.

Your mind frantically ran through every and any single possible scenario trying to detach itself from the notorious pain from the side of your body, the sting running across your back when the soaking cotton made contact with the wounded skin.

Breathe, just breathe

Teeth sunk into your hand trying your best to drown the scream creeping from your throat, your other hand trembling while holding up the t-shirt you wore to make his job easier.

God

You couldn’t even look at him not when the probability of seeing him frowning at you was huge. One of his hands held you keeping you as still as he could while the other cleaned away the scrapes on your torso.

“Told you to be careful”

It was the first thing he said after getting home, Marc placed you on top of the kitchen table and ran to get the aid kid from the wardrobe in the back, cursing at Steven for moving it from the top of the fridge.

In and out, breathe

He tried his best not to prolong the pain, dabbing carefully and looking up to check your reaction, or at least he tried to but your eyes never shifted from the window and even if they did they never fell into him.

His tone was harsh fuelled by his immense worry, he shook his head pouring alcohol into a new cotton. He knew his way around this but the way your chest moved and breath picked up made him nervous, the hand that was once holding you trailed along the outside of your thigh trying to ease you, and yet you thought he was furious.

“¿Te lo dije, o no?”

“Fuck off” You hated getting scolded like a child, the guilt bubbling in your chest. You side-eyed him before shutting your eyes and slamming your hand on the table.

¡Respira maldita sea!

You tried your best to regulate yourself before looking back at him. His eyes never left the place where the wound was, sitting on a chair to be head level to it and with the trash bin on his side to discard everything he used.

You were scared and yet his fear was greater, he was about to fucking scream.

He’s done this thousands of times before, not as many as Marc but his sudden ‘shutdown’ left him with no choice but to attend your wounds.

For fucks sake Marc, couldn’t you choose a better time to freak out?

To be honest he didn’t blame him, it was only his nervousness taking the best of him. In the past he had attended his own wounds before making that stupid deal with the moon god that got him the suit, but it was you they were talking about, none of them wanted to see you in pain and the mere thought of not being able to help you was enough for Jake being pushed forward.

He tried his best to be quick, to not linger in his mind and finish up so you could rest, but the voice of the worried British man that lived in him didn’t make concentrating any easier.

“Steven, si no te callas juro que-“ He whispered to himself and sighed looking back at you “Mi amor, I need you to stay still, ‘kay?”

You nodded lifting the t-shirt even higher, finally deciding to grip it with your teeth, it wouldn’t get in his way and would work wonders muffling you. The pain was worst, He expected you to flinch when he started stitching the cut on your shoulder but for some reason your knuckles turning white when you gripped the edge of the table seemed to have a greater effect on him as his hand began to shudder. He took a deep breath and glanced at your pained expression before continuing.

Where was Layla in a moment like this?

Took them home, remember?

The reason why he had to clean you up in the first place, the guy who you saw across the pub bothering a girl and her friend. The thing is you knew the guy, he ruined the night out you had with a couple of friends some weeks ago. The boys weren’t at home when it happened and Layla had to travel thanks to her line of work to recover some stolen goods, so you decided that going for drinks with your best friend was a good idea.

And it was, it really was until that twat started to roam around you just like he was doing with the girls. You were out as a makeshift ‘goodbye party’ for Layla before she had to leave to secure a buyer for the recently collected stolen goods. Marc went for more drinks while she excused herself to the restroom, you? You walked across the venue to strike him as soon as his hand tried to reach for the girl’s bum.

There is a downside about being constantly surrounded by people who commune with the gods, you sometimes forget you aren’t more than a mere human, you don’t have powers nor a fancy suit and every blow you get can be mortal.

And so when his fist collided against your side taking almost all your breath out of you, it was your doom and yet the second blow seemed even worse, some people ran to help you, others held him but your mind was only on the young lass who shivered on her friend’s arms.

On the bright side Marc and Layla got there before he tried anything else and yet it seemed to be a tad late, you were dizzy and needed to go home. It wasn’t really that big of a deal and yet the pain was present, mostly from your ego being hurt, some from the actual punch.

Marc made sure he was kicked out and you companied Layla to bus stop after she offered to take the girls home, you craved the air on your face and the feeling of it filling your lungs once more not expecting to be followed on your way back to the car. You could see Marc waiting for you, leaning against the passenger’s side, you held your hand up ready to call for him when you felt it. It didn’t come to your mind that he would take it further than a punch, but the sharp pain on your shoulder and your blouse being tinted in crimson made you let out a loud scream, one of pure pain and fucking regret. Just in time for Marc to watch it.

“Just a few stitches left baby” He tried to reassure you but it only made your need to go at him grow “Come on, breathe”

It’s not like you weren’t reminding yourself of that, to just focus on your breathing and forget about what was going on, to detach yourself from the pain but it wasn’t that easy.

“¡Mierda Lockley!” You tilted your head to the side heavily breathing.

“that’s right” once you snapped back to reality he was throwing away the last bit on cotton and placing a bandage to secure the stitches and rubbing your back carefully “We’re done”

He placed a kiss near where the bandages were, the pearls of sweat glistened on both of your bodies and a tired laugh came from within your lips, still high on the adrenaline you locked eyes.

“Thanks baby”

“Just please… don’t try that shit again” You felt his touch, his hands brushing your hair away, the sweet gesture making you close your eyes nodding to his request.

But he knew better.

He knew just like every other occasion you wouldn’t listen, not to Marc, not to Steven and most certainly not to him. He would have to use both his hands to count how many times he had to drag your ass out of situations like this, times when he got in time before something bad happened and the line of curses directed at the other person slowly died down on the way back home.

“You should’ve let me”

Your arms were crossed in front of your chest as you stared at the road, Marc was the one fronting that particular night, driving both of you to the flat.

“I don’t want anything happening to you” he sighed, his eyes never leaving the road “I wouldn’t be able to take it”

Not all of the occasions where the same but had few things in common, you wanted to help and they had to talk some sense into you before the reckless part of your brain decided to take action. This time was different tho, they didn’t have the opportunity to stay on the talking stage of the little routine, resulting on the little pep talk you were immersed in.

He reached for you carefully trying to lift you but the touch was met with your hand pulling his away before resting your back on the table. He was confused but didn’t complain.

“Leave me here” your voice was barely audible as you dozed off “Wait for Layla in bed”

Layla, one of your best friends and the one who used to have your place in Marc’s heart. At first they tried but their relationship was complicated, too many lies and too many betrayals can doom any marriage, they knew that, they knew how much damage the lack of communication had caused and yet they couldn’t part from one another. Too much history and feelings to even try and explain, but she had to move on to find peace and so she left for a while with the promise of being for him whenever he needed her, the silence and loneliness being something he grew accustomed to and yet it left him aching for the love she gave him.

Then you appeared in the picture, Jake was fond of you since the moment his eyes laid on you, going out of his way to rearrange for you and Steven to meet, let’s just say both of them fancied the tiny moments they had with you, Steven taking you out in the mornings for a cup of tea to his favourite spot and Jake preferring to drive you around the city at night even if you didn’t know it was him. Then you found out about Marc in the worst way possible, at a pub drunk as he could get.

He knew it could trigger him to switch with more ease but there was also the possibility of his mind going quiet for a second, to forget that the woman he loved wasn’t on his side for just a moment, to think that he would find her when coming back home. That’s when he felt your touch on his back and a kiss on his cheek followed by the little pet name.

“Hi amor”

Fuck he was confused as to why in the middle of him grieving and yearning for Layla there was another person who touched him the same way he expected her to do so. Then he opened his mouth letting his confused tone swoon you.

Wasn’t this Steven? Wasn’t this the man you’ve been seeing for the past month and a half? You were pretty sure he was and yet the strong American accent said otherwise. Until there wasn’t one, his gaze softening and his lips twitching in a broken smile as he tried to explain what was going on with the same accent you’ve grew to love.

You worked things out but not before scolding Jake for letting you believe they didn’t understand those little confessions of love you offered in your mother tongue. That’s how you started to date the three of them, completely mesmerized by every part of your moon boys. Then Layla came back, but not as the lover she used to be but as a friend, as the shoulder Marc could lay on whenever he needed, a place he could feel safe and someone who slowly became just as much as a necessity for you as it did for him.

“Mi amor, she’ll kill me if she finds you here alone” he laughed when you pushed his face softly “y no quiero dejarte”

“Jake, ya… porfa” He saw the way your chest movements slowed down finally falling asleep. He went towards the bed grabbing a pillow and blanket, placing it carefully under your head and covering your body to keep you warm.

You’ll probably be sore in the morning but right now the best he could do was leave you to rest.

He sat back where he once was, right next to you and his hand instinctively reaching for yours. The flat would’ve been in complete silence if it weren’t for your soft snores and the humming form Jake, singing under his breath a song he heard not so long ago, the one you played that rare morning while making breakfast. The aroma of coffee and tea dragging him out of bed only to find you wearing his t-shirt and underwear, moving your hips to the melody and mouthing the words.

“How are they?” Layla creeped through the front door slowly trying to not wake you up.

“Tired…” he rubbed his eyes trying to remain awake.

“It seems they’re not the only one” She kissed the top of his head and tapped his shoulder “You should go to sleep, I’ll keep an eye on them”

“Nah, nah. I stay, you can take the bed”

She shook her head as amused as irritated, she always knew how stubborn her boys could be, always wanting to have the last word and yet they hadn’t learn. There’s no use on fighting with her, she would be the one in the right but it amazed her how they always tried. She pushed his curls backwards leaning to be on eye level.

“Jake Lockley, either you go to sleep or I’ll drag you to bed”

He chuckled rolling his eyes grabbing her by the shoulders.

“Yes ma’am”

The cold of the night slowly became a chill morning as the hours passed, the drapes didn’t do much to cover the light that came through the window hitting your face, those moments after waking up were precious, where everything seemed fine thanks to having no recollection of what happened the night prior or even who you were, until you tried to move putting all your weight into the wounded arm and the sharp pain finished the job of waking you up completely. You kicked the blanket out of the way and saw the bruising and scrapes creeping from under your clothes.

“Mierda” you slipped right back where you once laid with a thud, hearing the creek of the chair on your side.

Layla rubbed her eyes yawning and her hand moved some curls out of her face, she was still wearing the same clothes she had on last night, her leather jacket hung from the chair she was sitting on and the traces of makeup in her face told you everything you needed to know. She didn’t get much sleep last night either.

“Good morning trouble maker” her tone was soft as her hand reached to mess with your hair before walking to the cupboard where you store the glasses “The boys are sleeping… it was hard to convince Jake to stay in bed all night”

Your forearm laid on your face covering your eyes, now that the rush of adrenaline and anger from last night wore off it became easier to think, to realize how fucking reckless you’ve been and how punching a guy twice your size wasn’t the brightest idea you could think of, but it was hard to make up good ideas with an intoxicated mind and the fear on a young girl’s face.

And then stopping your mind was almost impossible as it recalled every single detail of the night, how Layla rushed to talk with the girls while Marc took the guy form the collar of his shirt dragging him outside followed by a blurry ride home with him talking to you and telling you that everything was okay. You knew those words weren’t meant for you but for him, telling himself over and over again that you were okay, because you had to be okay, he reminded himself that it was just a cut in your arm, that it wasn’t even that deep and even if it was the first time you’ve ever been hurt like this you would still live.

“I wouldn’t be able to take it”

He probably blamed himself for not reacting sooner and Steven was probably trying to ease him. Trying his damn best to stop the tears that built up in his eyes, gripping the steering wheel with such force that you knew his hands would probably hurt the next morning; Steven would’ve taken control then and there if he wasn’t just as scared as Marc was.

Puta madre

“I’m sorry” you sighed, voice breaking “I’ll never do it again”

The coldness of the glass against your arm made you peek from behind it to find her handing you some painkillers along with water. “I know” she simply said

“No use on getting emotional, ‘kay?” the closest thing to a reassuring smile formed on her face, it was the best one she could give you right now at least, to convince you it wasn’t that big of a deal and yet you could sense the undertone worry.

“You want me to help you before heading out?” she pointed at you and gestured towards the bed where your partner’s slept.

She saw you shaking your head before slowly getting up, she tried to help you but you brushed her hand away – you needed this, to know that you were still able to take care of yourself even after that mayor screw up – before embracing her in a much needed hug, she held you close while making sure not to squeeze to hard. She remembers the first time she got hurt like this and knew how painful it really was.

“Do you have to leave so soon? Marc’s more bitchy than usual after you’re gone” you closed your eyes to the feeling of her hair brushing your face, the scent of honey flooding your senses. She rested her chin on your unwrapped shoulder.

“I know” she breathed out, there was a slight undertone of worry on her voice, one so miniscule that you didn’t really catch it “But I know you can manage him”

You smiled.

She left you all alone, the light creeping in and the cold wood under your feet sending shivers down your spine, the painkillers were starting to take affect as you felt drowsier, you crawled into bed, careful not to wake up the man sleeping besides you or to accidentally hurt the damaged shoulder. The feeling of his arm instinctively reaching out for you was soothing you to finally go back to sleep.

~☽☾~

You expected after opening your eyes to be greeted by an empty bed, it wasn’t uncommon for you to be left behind like that and you really didn’t mind it. Both Marc and Steven thrived in the mornings, the rush of waking up early and get things done just before heading out, to be totally honest it amassed you how even after staying passed midnight Steven still managed to get up before the sun even rose while Jake was the total opposite, who’s only reason to leave your side and the warmth of the oh so comfortable bed – Steven had such a nice bed for someone who tried for so long not to fall asleep – was to be able to surprise you with a breakfast with some ‘flavour in it’.

His words, not yours. Poor Steven couldn’t seem to see the end of it when he cooked for the two of you, Jake pestering him about adding something that once lived and now tasted better with some hot sauce on top.

The morning birds and your night owl.

But the sight the morning granted you was worthy of heaven. Steven holding you close to him completely fixated by the shapes he traced on your thigh still covered by the blanket, he looked up after you inevitably left out the breath you didn’t know were holding in, you saw the small wrinkles on the corner of his eyes once he smiled at you.

“Morning love” it wasn’t long until you realized that his every move where slow and careful, almost calculated as if he was scare to shift a wrong way and cause you immense pain. He kissed your temple “Didn’t want to wake you up”

His accent was thicker in the mornings, a mixed of his tiredness and the dehydration from the night prior, you had the habit of taking a glass of water with you to bed, having it by your side in case either of you was thirsty but from all your boys, the only who refused to drink from the water you provided was Steven.

“Happy you didn’t” you turned to face him ignoring the immediate discomfort, you replicated his smile only yours was tinted whit malice “I would’ve kicked you out of bed”

He couldn’t help but laugh

“You’re… unbelievable” you felt him turning away, trying to get up but your arms moved quicker than your mind could proses it, wrapping them around his waist to prevent him to moved.

The pain from your torso came back, a quick reminder to keep you in place.

Slowly

“Stay” you tried to pull him closer but the pain was making it harder than it normally was “Please?”

He turned to look at you, the pained expression on your face made his gut stir, to say he was worried was an understatement, Steven was mortified by your state. It was written all over his face and in the way his fingers were almost shaking in the moment he placed a revel strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’ll make us some tea” he leaned in to kiss your forehead and his hand cupped the side of your face “It’ll make you feel better”

“I don’t want to feel better… I only want to feel you” your voice was low and raspy, you moved closer burring yourself in the crook of his neck, your good arm held the weight and while the other gently wrapped over his shoulders keeping him in place, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“How about this…” he said after a beat of silence, his hand rubbed softly the arm around him and the smell of citrus with a hint of cinnamon flooded your senses, his hair was messier than usual and you couldn’t see his face but from the way his breaths became more irregular you knew his eyes were glued to your shoulder and his mind to your torso “I’ll bring us some tea and we stay in bed, yeah? I was thinking maybe some movies”

Be careful

You nodded against his neck, your nose rubbing against his skin sending shivers down his spine, he gave a light pat to your arm before kissing it and walking away from your side, you almost could feel yourself slipping back, your arm giving up under the pressure only making you whine when your back hit against the mattress, you left your hands where they landed taking almost all the space in bed.

The mornings beside Steven were nice, starting your day with tea – while Marc preferred the taste of morning coffee and Jake settled with a cold glass of water – and vegan breakfast, sometimes there was toast with jam spread on top, other times it was scrambled eggs with beans to the side; today he completely outdid himself, coming back with a stack of pancakes drizzled with honey and frozen berries on top, a little cup filled with bananas and your tea in hand. He placed your cup by your side and kissed the top of your head while his hand cupped the crane of your neck and the little gesture sent sparks to your heart.

You tried to reach for the cup but Steven beat you to it, passing the hot beverage to you. It was milky and smelled like cinnamon and honey.

“Wait…” your head turned to look at him once both of you were tucked back in bed, your laptop proned on his chest so that both of you could see it while cuddling, he turned to look at you raising his eyebrows “Does this mean the bookstore trip is cancelled?”

“We can do that later” you used his arm as a makeshift pillow while he held you close, his hand covered your eyes playfully “right now you need to rest”

“No I don’t” you shifted to your side, putting your weight on your elbow almost peering over him.

From there you saw how he rolled his eyes and still kept a tiny smile on his face, how the laptop was placed on the floor for a moment so he could shift on his side. Now that you both were staring into each other’s faces you could see it, it was faint but it was there.

He was scared, the doe eyes he tried to suppress where still there as his worry ate him alive. You really fucked up, didn’t you? He reached for you, brushing the side of your body and accidentally making pressure near your waist. He saw first-hand how your face screwed up and you hissed at the sudden contact.

Too harsh

“I think you do” the tired tone didn’t match the perked up eyebrow adorning his face, he turned to reach once more for the electronic device and all you could do was scoff.

It really wasn’t the fact that you had to cancel your plans that bothered you, neither was spending away your Saturday evening watching movies with Steven, but you felt like a burden. You were the reason they had to come home earlier last night, why Marc couldn’t spend more time with Layla even if you knew how much he had been looking out for it and why now Steven couldn’t go out scavenging for new books to fill the blank spaces in his bookshelves, because even if you insisted for him to just go without you he wouldn’t even budge.

Calm down.

Steven was glad you couldn’t hear his thoughts or you would get a glance of how he really didn’t know how to approach you right now, he tried his best to just breath it out but his first instinct was to leave you in bed and just sit on the chair by the end of it, just coming closer when you needed something, because he didn’t want to cause you pain. But he knew better, he knew that the moment he went away from your reach he would be causing you an ever greater pain, so he settled for distracting both of you from it until it was time for him to bring you the next dosage of painkillers.

You picked the movie, an animated one that you haven’t seen since you left college. You laid with his arm around you, his warmth mixed with the blanket and heather helped you not to shiver, as the hours passed the temperature started to descend and the movie ended just in time for Steven to make a quick trip to the kitchen, bringing you back a glass of water and a tablet of medicine, you opened your mouth slightly sticking your tongue out so he could place it there before handing the glass to you.

You saw how he strolled back and forth before coming back to bed, taking away the dirty dishes and bringing both of you a new cup filled with tea, his was sweet while yours was sour. You liked the taste of sweetness in the morning when it was still blissful and quiet while opting for a more strong taste in the later hours, maybe it had something to do with the fact that you could never seem to find sugar at work and always forget to bring your own, and right now that’s what you needed the most, a sense of familiarity and a taste of your routine.

Like everything was fine, like you didn’t mess up.

“Steven?” the next movie had already been going for a couple of minutes before you decided to speak up, at this point you weren’t even paying attention to it, only using the sound from the laptop as a way to drown out the otherwise silent flat and loud mind.

“Do you need something love?” he paused the movie already getting up.

Keep calm

You shook your head and looked the other way, trying hard to avoid his stare.

“I just…” trying to gulp down the knot forming in your throat was hard. The guilt from yesterday’s events was revived and you couldn’t stop but think of how everything would’ve been different if you just listened “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the night or today for that matter, I really wanted us to go and– “

He called for your name as he moved closer towards you “It’s alright, you don’t have to apologize”

“But I do!” there was an urge bubbling in the pit of your stomach, to find a culprit and the only person available to be condemned was you “I was dumb and reckless, and you always tell me but I never listen, and if only I listened this wouldn’t have happened”

“You saw being picked on and you went out of your way to help” his hand cupped your face softly rubbing your cheek with his thumb “There’s nothing to apologize for that”

“Still–“ you felt pressure on your face as he pushed his forehead against yours, it was nice. It helped you to notice how you were tangling your hands with the blanket, gripping it hard.

“Tell that little nob of yours to stop nattering” you closed your eyes trying to focus solely on his voice and drown out the thoughts that crossed your mind, you felt the way the mattress moved under his weight when he approached you, his face finding its way towards your neck “And come take a bath… you stink” his words came through with laughter and your eyes suddenly opened as you gasped.

“You little shit!”

Taking your shirt off was a challenge he imposed himself, unable to stand watching you while you struggled to even move the arm, you tried to push him away but after a while of just fighting with it you left him do it instead. The fabric being pulled and thrown away, his calloused hands were soft against your skin careful not to tuck at the bandages that kept the wound shielded from his eyes, it was better that way, the immense relieve of not having to face it just yet, avoiding thinking about it, avoiding acknowledging it besides the lingering knowledge that he had to give you a new dosage of painkillers just after shower and not to be too rough near it.

He could just pretend it didn’t exist for a few more minutes before he had to clean it and change it. Out of sight, out of mind.

The same can’t be said by the bruising and scratches on your torso, splotches of purple and green mixed with crimson dashes reminded you of watercolour and your hand instinctively mode to it. It was captivating, brushing near it without making any pressure, oh but was it tempting. Alluring you almost, like a chant that made you compliant to the urge to dig into it, to just lean into the splashes on your side and make sure that it wasn’t just a trick of the light.

But it wasn’t the light, it was an admonition. Don’t indulge into affairs of the gods and don’t drift into the business of others.

He reacted quicker than you did, managing to pull you away from those thoughts, his hand guided yours away from your skin and his lips left soft kisses on your neck as it was the closest he dare to get to the wound.

Steven made sure the water was warm and not too hot or too cold before he helped you get into the tub. He sat right next to it, scrubbing away the sweat and worried from you with the help of a sponge, you wanted to move his hands away, to take it from him but you aching body wouldn’t let you. So you just indulged against your wishes to the care your partner provided, he made sure to not get to close to your shoulder and to clean away quickly near your ribs.

The water echoed in the tiled room and the light steam from the tub painted the mirror, his hands were all over you but it didn’t feel dirty at all, the care that grazed his gestures as he moved from your legs to your torso and finally your arm, moving it around slowly to scrub it clean, while making sure you were alright.

“Does this hurt?” “Just let me know” “Do you need a break?”

You tilted your head, peering from the edge of the tub to look at him, his figure was soaked, his arms covered in water and soap reaching to the rolled up sleeves of his jumper, the stains where the water had splashed were darker and somehow his hair had managed to also get wet, your heart ached with the need to pull him inside with you and repay the favour by scrubbing his worries away, clean him of the nasty thoughts that tormented him.

“Steven” If it hadn’t been by the calmness in your voice he would’ve thought that something he did hurt you, maybe his hands were harsher on your scratches, maybe he moved your arm too hard and your shoulder was resenting it or maybe he was just too worried to be around you at the moment. He looked back at you rising his eyebrow and with what resembled a smile “Thank you for this”

You closed your eyes in time for him to kiss your lips, it was soft and quick but filled with the unconditional love you had for one another.

“Any time, love”

~☽☾~

You had to call in sick for work and explained what happened, you tried to push it back for as long as you could but Saturday came to an end and with that the deadline was something you had to face, at the middle of your peaceful Sunday Steven went away as Jake pushed himself to front ‘quiero ver tu carita hermosa’ was the excuse he gave that granted him with you smiling immensely and rolling your eyes, for him it was amusing seeing you faking being annoyed.

Right now you couldn’t be gladder to be sleeping and waking up beside him, after Steven thought it would be a great idea to put pillows in the middle of the bed to keep you ‘safe’, to keep you away from his touch. But Jake just laughed at the thought as he embraced you in his arms, softly but steady, feeling your chest moving as you breathing relaxed him into sleeping better, the pressure in his arms helping him to sleep through the night and the strong scent of his cologne having the same effect on you. You got up thanks to the smell of breakfast and the feeling of emptiness besides you, it was weird that you missed it but right now being left behind was the last thing you needed.

“Buenos días dormilona” he took the pillow on his side of the bed, letting it fall right in front of your face and this muffling your groans “roncas horrible, did ya know?

That little bitch

A shit-eating grin was plastered on his face, the one you’ve got to know real well, his hair was pristinely combed back and was wearing only a pair of boxers – which wasn’t unusual –, while Marc preferred to wear them combined with a t-shirt to bed and Steven couldn’t even fathom the idea of not wearing pants while sleeping. He preferred to lay with you like that, to be able to feel with every inch of his skin that you were there besides him, to know you were his and – right now – to know that you were okay.

“Mira quién habla” you scoffed at him, pulling the pillow into your arms, pressing it down a bit against your chest, the markings on your torso being something that don’t bother you as much anymore, and you were grateful because that meant that you could enjoy being able to feel his rougher grip on your waist as he hugged you against him. “You talk in your sleep and I never say shit about it”

He licked his lips trying to supress a smirk.

“I’m confessin’, mi amor. That’s between Konshu and I”

His tone was condescending and yet you knew he meant no ill intent by it. He saw you get out of bed and how you were struggling to get out of the shirt you wore to sleep, but he didn’t budge, knowing that if you needed his help you would ask for it. Eventually you did, he didn’t mind at all helping you take them off, enjoying the sight of you and to leave a trail of kisses along your back, on your shoulder blades and slowly coming up to the nape of your neck. You kept those little instances close to your heart, savouring the moment with closed eyes and total silence, to hear the loud ‘smack’ that his lips did against your skin. His hands trailed from your stomach, past the bruises and scratches on your waist and ribs to stop barely under your chest.

The movement was made with ease as if he knew not to tiptoe around you. To not make you feel weird about it.

Maybe it had something to do with your upbringing, after all, growing up in a house were movement meant working and that correlated to the amount of recognition you got, the praise and love being tide with how useful you made yourself to be. You couldn’t stand to be put, feeling ill and remaining still making you anxious. For some reason you thought that feeling couldn’t be topped by anything else and then you discovered it, being a burden was something much worse.

But Jake somehow knew about that, at times you felt like he could hear your thoughts just glancing at you, reading you like an open book. And so his steady grasp was there when he help you get a new shirt – one with the smell of his cologne – with all the unsaid feelings and longing for each other.

You could feel how much he craved to pull you closer, to forget about what had happened and just loose himself in your lips. For his mind to go quiet as it couldn’t focus on anything else but you, in your hands pulling him closer, to be engulfed by you. Or maybe you were the one with those cravings.

You walked up to the kitchen, taking a look at the now empty glass still placed on the table, the droplets of water rolling down from the water Jake took a few minutes ago. You ate the breakfast he cooked, the boiled eggs with enchiladas bringing you some remembrance of peace, you tried your best to stay grounded, to be present in the moment but he noticed how your mind trailed in the midst of it, a look he knew too well because he has been the one wearing it in the past. He was worried about you, not so much for the wounds that adorned your body, he knew how tough his partner was and that they could take that shit with ease, no, what really worried him was your mind.

Because he knew you like the palm of his hands and know how it wouldn’t give you a rest, filled with thoughts that even if Steven tried his best to scare away they still remained. He would do anything to help you stop them, he just needed you to open up about it. There was something else, something you weren’t telling him, something that bugged you with no end but he couldn’t quite place his finger on it.

He called your name like someone does after being ignored for a while, maybe it was because of the way your fork had been circling against the empty plate or your lost gaze that’s being seeing right past him or even just because he has handed you the tablets of medicine as he refilled your glass with water.

You felt exhausted and scared that he might share the sentiment.

“Lo siento” you took the pills from him plopping it in your mouth and drowning it along with your words.

“Esta bien mi amor” his hand was now on your hair messing it up, he knew how much it annoyed you but he didn’t care because he also knew how much you tried to supress the fact that you actually enjoyed whenever he and Layla did it. “You don’t have to apologize”

“No, es que…” you inhaled sharp, looking up at him. His body was leaning on the table, his weight on both of his arms and the dangling star adorning his neck. “I messed up that night and-“

“I know what you meant, but you don’t have to worry about it” he crunched down, now he being the one looking up at you and you slouched feeling the back of his hand rubbing against your cheek “The bastard is gone, we made sure of that. And you’re okay”

“Wait you did?” You saw him nod content, there was that relief washing your features, not more furrowed eyebrows and worried eyes. “When?”

“no importa amor, lo que importa…” he got up helping you do the same, the feeling of your hands on his was something he couldn’t get enough of, the softness of them against his tainted skin sending a shock of tranquillity through his body “is that you lived to be annoyed by me for another day”

He saw the hesitance creeping back in your eyes and how this fixated in the way your thumb rubbed the back of his hand, tracing the scars that remained on them.

“Hey” his voice was soft, your foreheads pressed against each other and his nose softly brushing yours “Everything is okay”

“You promise?”

“I do” his grip on your hands became sturdier “And I’m no liar”

You left out a tired chuckle “Only when it benefits you”

“Hate the game not the player” the corner of his lips tugged up once more in that stupid grin you fell in love with. He came closer, his hands coming up to grab your head, you leaned into the touch, your hands wrapping around his wrists with a smile on your face.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how the saying goes” you rolled your eyes but you weren’t actually annoyed, he knew that and you knew that he did.

“I’m pretty sure it is” he closed the distance, pressing his lips against yours and your arms trailed slowly around his neck, the discomfort was there and yet it was eclipsed by the pure ecstasy of tasting him, of having his hands not caring of your damaged skin, grabbing it to keep you right there for him.

Your leg moved up and he helped you to place them around his waist, to have you pressed against him. You could feel your stomach beginning to swirl in anticipation, your shirt riling up when he carried you carefully through the messy apartment back to bed. That bed, that precious bed that held you still like a home you don’t seem to be able to leave, your place of rest for the past two days. Coming to the point of feeling chained to it but right now, in this moment felt more like a throne than a prison.

Where you normally found desire and desperation with torn fabric and sloppy kisses was only love and peace, the care that he felt being transmitted to you. He needed you to realize and understand how much they loved you, for you to understand that forgiveness wasn’t something they could grant you, because it was something only you could give yourself. They didn’t blame you for anything that happened and you needed to understand that, god he really hoped you understood it. It wasn’t your fault.

It was written in all his actions, in how his lips grazed over the purple, green and scabs in his way down, because he knew how it felt to be ashamed of having a wounded body – even if the damaged was caused by protecting someone – and he refused on giving you that option. His hands holding your legs in place while he ripped sweet sounds of pleasure right from your throat.

Those words he gave you just minutes ago replaying in your mind like a chant that would be cemented in your brain for the rest of your days. “I promise, everything is okay”

His lips pressed against yours, shaky breaths clashing against them as you felt his grip on your hips and the way his eyes roamed your face for a sign to stop. There wasn’t.

Everything is okay

His curls hanging on your face while he kept a steady pace, not to rough but not to slow. Just like you needed, he mumbling sweet nothings in Spanish right against your ear, the words falling almost in desperation for you to catch them and keep them near your heart.

Everything is okay.

Your hands intertwined together faces adorned by blissful smiles.

Everything is okay

~☽☾~

Your arm was extended In front of you, the back of his hand against your palm as you tried to analyse every aspect of it, laying on the couch was nice, after talking for a bit while scavenging through the flat and realizing you were all out of snack both of you decided to go buy the missing ingredients for cinnamon rolls, the grocery bags laid on the kitchen counter still packed as the two of you laid together on the couch with a blanket laying across your lap, your back leaned against his chest and his fingers playing with your hair with the occasional kiss being left on the crown of your head.

“How about I become a vigilante?” you jokingly said, the humorous tone made him tilt back his head before nudging it against yours.

“How about ya don’t?” he said only half joking, if you didn’t know him as well as you did you would’ve thought he was angry at you, but he wasn’t.

It was hard reading Lockley sometimes, to the untrained eye it would seem like his waking days where just a cruel joke he had to live through, that he was angry just for existing but in actuality he just had that kind of face, the one that keeps people at arm’s length even if he is nothing but polite, forcing him to just cherish the company of the few people who seemed to look past it. Enjoying his time with the ones he cares about, going out of his way to see Crawley every now and then, going to Gena’s dinner whenever he had the chance, texting with Layla every other month and spending all the time he could by your side.

“Come on! It would be fun, I could star sparing with-“ you took a deep breath before continuing “At least you have to admit I would look great, covered in battle scars” you let go of his hand and leaned to the side to look at him comfortably.

He shook his head.

“Me gustas asi” he left a kiss on your wounded shoulder, it was loud but didn’t leave traces of pain “no te cambiaría nada”

The feeling of him pressed against you was comforting, the warmth of his body making the pain tolerable and traces of guilt only an afterthought that you didn’t even focus on instead the migraine inducing reminder that it was. And yet your mind didn’t seem to feel like giving up, making that aching question that you’ve managed to push back for a while something more present and distracting.

“So…” you said elongating the ‘o’ “I know you’re not mad at me”

He hummed for you to continue, there was a small frown on his face as he paid close attention to your words.

“And I know neither is Steven” you tried your best to find the exact words to describe what you were feeling, thinking, aching to ask but it was hard, why was it so hard? You sighed “But I… ¿Qué hay de Marc?”

“¿Qué con él?” His fingers grazed through the side of your arm as a way to tell you ‘hey, it’s fine! You can do it’

“Is he mad at me?” you blurred out, finally spitting out the thought that made your stomach swirl, you glanced at him before looking down to your hands, resting on your lap “I mean, even Layla has called to check on me and-“ you sucked in a breath, his hand reaching out to tangle in between yours “I haven’t heard from him since it happened”

“No mi amor” he pulled you in closer to him, as close as he could without harming you in any way. “He’s ashamed”

He couldn’t stand the tint of guilt creeping back into your words or the way you seemed to become smaller, hunching away from his embrace, how the seemingly nice afternoon turned slowly in something more. You turned to look at him, scooping to the other side of the sofa away from his reach.

“He feels like… this is his fault” he confessed, his eyes looking briefly to your shoulder before coming back to meet your gaze and his hand reached to his temple “and he’s fuckin’ yellin’ all of the sudden”

You wanted to ask for him, to be able to hold Marc and reassure him that none of this was his fault, but you were hesitant, never demanding any of your boyfriends to front before. But the need was there and it was big, so scared of what his mind could be telling him, because for a moment it reminded you of the echoes of your own thoughts. You knew Marc, how he could get caught up into himself, so blinded by the bad thoughts that kept him in place. Sure you had bad days but you also saw how hard his ‘good days’ seemed to be, coming close to those where you weren’t able to leave the bed without some encouragement.

Yet Jake seemed to understand just what you needed without having to spell it out for him and in a split second he was gone, pulling marc to the front. You saw how his eyes grew larger with hesitance and the fear that coated them, how his eyebrows were furrowed and the way his lip trembled as he backed, pressing his back harder into the sofa, and a sudden rush of coldness passing through made you shiver. You reached for his arm but he flinched at the movement, the striking paint going from the tip of your fingers to the wound in the shoulder and tearing a whine out from the depths of your throat.

“Fuck” he said, his eyes frantically looking at you – trailing from your eyes to your chest, down your hands, hips and back to your eyes but not the shoulder, never the shoulder- as he couldn’t stop his body from shaking, It felt weird seeing him like this, frail and scared. Like those nights he would wake up drenched in sweat from a nightmare and would plea you to go back to sleep before going for a new glass of water. But right now it was a bit different, looking like a stray animal that tried to find shelter out of reach from reckless kid that tried to pet him.

Because of you

You saw him becoming stiffer in front of you, how his breath seemed to come to a pause as his hands tried to reach out for you even if his mind screamed to do the opposite, to keep you away where he couldn’t hurt you anymore. The thing about Spector is that he knew deep down, under all the love and longing that he had for you how much danger you were in just by knowing his name, by wrapping your arms around him as you slept together with his back against your chest, and by having a knight for company.

Because that’s what he was and with that came the responsibility of protecting you, even if you insisted and proved how capable you were on taking care of yourself, it was something he felt obligated to do, to keep you safe since that tumultuous night you stumbled into him. Since he fell in love with your soft words and careful touches as if you knew how much damage he has gone through and just how badly he longed for someone to soothe him back to sleep.

When his mind decided it would be great to bring back those faces of the people he had managed to cause pain along his path.

In a loud house a silent room is a blessing, tucking his heart under the bed where the noise doesn’t reach. It’s only a matter of time until he learned that a loud house is something out of the ordinary, something to fear and want to escape from.

Fuck the loud noises, the yelling and screaming. Fuck the shattered plates and thrown pots, the cracking belts and the stinging hands.

He just wanted the peace, security and quietness of a tranquil house, a noiseless home. Things that you handed to him with ease, as if it was something so common, something that didn’t come from obligation, because it was so normal and yet he couldn’t comprehend that something like that could ever be given to him, even if someone had already done it before.

And yet you did. You gave it away without whining or expecting anything in return from Marc because the spark in those brown eyes and the creases that formed around his mouth whenever he smiled was enough pay for you. Feeling the need to scream into the wind how much you loved Marc Spector, to let the world know that no matter what happened you would be by his side. No, to be by their side, because your love didn’t stop at one of them, it seemed like your heart was made in the perfect way to fit into theirs, like a puzzle piece that would be incomplete otherwise.

He tried his best to remember that, to know that everything was okay but he saw how much he had been a toll in other people’s lived and he dreaded the idea of becoming one in yours. He noticed how less frequently your mom called since you started to date him, how you made up excuses not to go back home since you started to live together and how your spark seemed to die down whenever someone pointed out your hometown, it was miniscule but it was there and it pained him.

“Marc” you called for him, he had no idea when both of you left their place on the sofa or when you took his hands in yours, your eyes trying to catch a glimpse of his, making his chest ache in the process, seeing the worry building up in your features.

He should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around.

His hands left yours as soon as he realized, blinking to fight back the tears that started to pile up in the corner of his eyes. This was too much, the air starting to feel heavy and the walls seemingly closer than normal and yet to far apart, no matter how much air filled his lungs it wasn’t enough and he just wanted to go.

“Hey” you took his hand slowly placing it on your chest, his eyes following along. He saw the way your chest moves steady and slow, he tried his best to mimic the rhythm closely but it was hard “breathe” you mouthed, noticing how hard it was for him to actually listen to your voice.

Run

You saw the way he shook his head creating more distance between the two of you, not bearing to touch you knowing what he had caused.

“I- I shouldn’t have…” he tried to speak up but the dryness of his throat made it almost impossible, his hands reached to his chest pushing down on it in hopes for ease the pain growing on it and maybe even being able to push out the words in the process “It’s my fault, I should’ve gone with you, I shouldn’t have left you alone”

He stumbled through his words, trying hard not to listen to what his mind was telling him and instead stay with you and talk things through, he wanted to scape, to go back inside so whoever wanted to take his place could but he pushed through it, feeling both Jake and Steven close to him as if reassuring him with those same words he kept repeating to himself this past days ‘everything is okay’.

You wanted to run and pull him into a hug, to keep him safe and snugged against yourself with your hearts beating near each other but didn’t know if that was the right thing to do.

“Marc” you breathed “It wasn’t your fault, I wanted to go alone”

You were crunched over still trying to even out your breath, it was hard almost impossible with the circle of people around you, leaving barely enough space for you to think.

Layla was too focused on calming down the brunette girl that seemingly could cry a river all by herself, the one that trembled under her friend’s touch as she dragged her hand along her back to ease her. You wished the world would go silent for a moment so you could hear what they were saying without having to move.

That’s when you saw him walking back, almost sprinting to your side after getting rid of the guy that punched you. He wanted to make him pay for what he had done but the thought of you heaving here all alone while Layla made sure the girls were okay was enough to drag him back with that need being unfulfilled.

He reached out to you, helping you to get back on your two feet and getting a whine out of you.

“Are you-“

“Okay?” you cut him out nodding, the pain was there but nothing you couldn’t breathe through “Yes, don’t- yes bebé”

“Hey so…” Layla leaned on Marc’s shoulder once she was back “the girl’s came alone, apparently her birthday? Also exchange students” she sighed “They have no one who can pick them up or take them home”

“I- We can take them” you heaved through, still trying to recollect your breath.

“No” she shook her head and placed a hand on your shoulder “You need to rest, I’ll go with them, make sure they are safe”

You looked at them understanding that there was no way of changing that.

“I guess” you sucked in a breath and closed one of your eyes in a pained expression “But let me walk you to the bus stop, I need some fresh air”

Her eyes drifted away from you as she thought about it for a while, desperately wanting to say no but once she looked back at you, she understood exactly what you were thinking of.

“I guess” she finally said.

“I’ll go with you” he voiced out, his eyes left Layla’s to look back at you, he knew just how stubborn both of you were but hoped he could convince you somehow.

You shook your head chuckling and patted his chest “It’s not far, I’ll see you at the car”

You needed this, to be alone for a second. To know that you could be one minute without being scared, to know that this wouldn’t become something you’ll be afraid of next time you wanted to go out.

“I should’ve insisted” he wanted to step back but for some reason his legs weren’t responding to his commands, hot tears beginning to stream down his face.

You moved slowly towards him, afraid of making a wrong move that would scare him away. One hand resting on his chest while the other reached to wipe away his tears and slowly guiding him to look at you.

“Oh bebé…” it was soft and short but full of memories.

“No” he shook his head placing his jacket on ready to go down street with you “I’m going”

“Marc, please…” you weren’t asking anymore, you were begging to him and he noticed it “I need this”

He was afraid of the funny feeling in his gut telling him to not let you win, to push back and go with you even if you would be all moody in your way back home but the pleading eyes were too much, the sound of your desperate voice asking for his trust.

He sighed

“It’s my fault” he said once more and you couldn’t tell if those words were directed to you or to himself. His voice felt tinted by the bitter ring of Wendy’s and Jake grew angry at them while Steven felt pure sorrow.

“It’s not your fault” pushing through the pain your hands guided his head to press his forehead against yours “everything is okay”

It wasn’t much of a reminder this time, it was a promise.

It took a while to get him out of that heavy mind-set, his breathing becoming less frantic when he finally started to listen, to actually understand what the words that you gave him meant. He tried hard not to flinch away when your fingers reached for his, keeping the little hiccups at bay when your hand ran through his back, his eyes were red and puffy from all the crying, and he told you how his nose felt stuffy when you passed him a napkin. You tried to cheer him up, cleaning away the mess from his face while he apologized for ‘everything’, you didn’t exactly know what everything meant for him though and you wished to believe he only meant to apologize for forgetting how none of this was caused by him, for forgetting that his arms where the place that made you feel like you were truly home. Of course you reminded him with a simple ‘it’s fine’.

“How about we make the cinnamon rolls?” his eyes remained closed and his head leaned against your touch when you brushed his dark curls away from his face, enjoying the view of his now relaxed expression.

You always found it funny how your lovers shared the same face and yet they had their unique way of making it ‘theirs’, how they managed to look so different.

“Yeah, I’d like that” he replied nodding slightly, he felt you pulling your hand away and held it in place to leave a small kiss before any contact between the two of you was lost.

“Just… remember to double check” you laughed seeing him rolling his eyes, he pushed softly your hip with his fist before leaning to take out the bowl you always used while baking.

It was nice, knowing he wasn’t scared of being around you as he was a couple of hours ago.

“I swear the salt and sugar look the same!” he wrapped his arms around you.

Careful

He reminded himself once more, this time it wasn’t directed to Jake while patching you up or to Steven while dressing you down but to silence all the other nasty thoughts that threatened to ruin once more his time with you. He wouldn’t let them win, not this time at least.

He couldn’t let them because he wanted this, to spend his time away next to you, craving desperately to hear that laugh that melted his heart away and forget once and for all that anything bad could happened or that occurred in the first place. Nothing would keep that pleasure away from Marc, not even himself.

By the time you were done there were splotches of flours on your clothes and face, not even the kitchen counter and floors were speared of the mess. Marc’s proud smile when he passed you the sugar instead of the salt container was picture worthy and you tried multiple times to sneak a taste from the uncooked batter just for him to smack your hand away making you giggle.

He took a little bit of glazing with his fingers for you to taste, it was delicious.

You were laying on the floor, the cool hardwood floor contrasting with the heat coming from the oven, it was nice, the mix of the cool temperature on your back with the slight warm on the air, there weren’t a lot of things left to say emerging yourself in the comfortable silence, it only being disrupted by the ticking clock on top of the counter that counted down the seconds until the rolls were finally done. After a little while of lying next to Marc he finally spoke up, a little ”hey” rushing from him.

You turned to look at him, his eyes set on the ceiling and a smile slowly making itself present on his face, shining like stars in the night sky.

“Have I ever told you, what I thought when I first saw you?” it came with traces of laughter, the embarrassment of reminding that night mixed with pure disbelief.

You shook your head “No”

“I just- I just wanted to kiss you” the lights were dim making it hard to see, but you knew his face would be glowing in a lovely shade of crimson as he moved his hand covering his eyes “I couldn’t believe someone like you would walk up to that mess and call me amor”

It was late at night in the pub near his old apartment, the one he used to share with Layla, he couldn’t be further from home but he didn’t mind it – Steven’s flat never really felt like home to him anyways – as he could use some time walking alone with his thoughts, it wasn’t that late into the night but he was already as drunk as he could be and it was time to get going, he just needed to remember where his keys were.

It would also be really helpful to be able to stand up without gobbling and plastering his face on the floor. His head rested in between his hands leaning on the bar with a glass of whiskey he didn’t remember ordering next to him.

The pressure from a hand on his back made the man turn faster than you expected, not even his fuzzy senses could manage to slow down his reaction when he felt your lips pressed against his cheek. And then he heard it, your voice ringing in his ears and bringing him an unexpected sense of peace, one that he hadn’t realize would be possible since it left packed inside his ex-wife’s suitcase, fuck! Why was he thinking of her? That was the solely reason he had even gone out tonight.

To forget

“Sorry… do I know you?” his Chicago accent was stronger when he drank and in the mornings, but it’s not like the person in front of him would know that.

The hand left its place on his back as if the mere contact burned harder than fire and he couldn’t explain why he wanted to ask for it back, was he that desperate? That touch starved that he would feel the need to ask a stranger not to back away? To just keep you close to him and your touch on his aching body.

“Steven?” when the name fell from your lips it all made sense and he couldn’t help but feel worse for longing the touch from someone that wasn’t his to long for. He couldn’t be selfish and keep love away from his alters just because it was kept from him.

Fuck, his eyes focused on your lips feeling himself slipping away, his gut stirring at the urge to beg Steven to give him just five more minutes with you and maybe get to know each other.

This definitely would be a night impossible to forget.

The little bell from the oven rang and you turned with excitement, Marc got up and helped you so your eagerness for a sweet treat wouldn’t hurt you in the process, it was still a while for you to actually eat them and you knew that but fuck were you excited for it.

“I wanted to ask you” he was slicing the still hit rolls for you to finally have that sweet you were craving, after all your impatiens was notable when it came to stuff like this “about your má”

“Yeah?” your eyes jumped from the plate in front of you to him, going to the fridge and taking something to drink for both

“Did something happen?” he sat on the opposite side of the table, hand playing with his wristwatch.

“No, why are you asking?” you moved your plate to sit next to him, your hand reaching for his and your head resting on his shoulder.

“I’ve noticed she hasn’t called” he reached for the box of meds that made its home on the table, handing you some water along with them.

“Oh yeah, she’s just busy” you smiled and plopped them in your mouth “Starting a business is hard”

“What?” he tried hard not to sound as confused as he was but failed miserable “I thought- when did that happen?”

“Well… she’s always talked about it and, after a while of pushing I finally managed to convince her to open her own restaurant” you sighed and shrugged “told her I could go down there to help out for a while but she told me not to worry. I know she is busy and all but sometimes I just… it wouldn’t even make sense for me to visit her right now if I’m not going to help, you know? Don’t want to be a-“

You fell in silence, not knowing how to put what you were feeling into word.

“Burden?” he heard you hum and shook his head “You’re not. I really thought you fought or something” he was relieved to be in the wrong.

“Why would we?” he shrugged “well we didn’t so stop worrying about it”

“Is that why you haven’t gone?” he saw the way you rolled your shoulders, the pain no longer there.

“A part of it, yeah. But maybe we could go together next time? I would love for you to meet her”

You’ve talked with her about your boyfriends, it took her a while to understand what it all meant but once she couldn’t help but be glad her ‘little baby’ was loved by someone so strong and capable, sometimes she would say hi to them when you were on facetime.

“I would like that too”

You kissed his shoulder and then his neck, trailing up to kiss his lips, his hand cupping your face

And in that moment there weren’t big descriptions to be made.

Only silence and kisses with taste of cinnamon rolls.

me adding the translations? wow that's something new

¿Te lo dije, o no? - I told you so, didn't I?

¡Respira maldita sea! - breathe god dammit!

Steven, si no te callas juro que-“ - Steven if you don't shut up I swear-

Mi amor - My love

¡Mierda Lockley! - shit Lockley!

y no quiero dejarte - and I don't want to leave you

Jake, ya… porfa - Jake, come one… please

Mierda - shit

Puta madre - fucking hell

quiero ver tu carita hermosa - I want to see your pretty face

Buenos días dormilona - Good morning sleepyhead

roncas horrible - you snore horribly

Mira quién habla - look who's talking

Lo siento - I'm sorry

Esta bien mi amor - it's alright my love

No, es que… - no, it's just…

no importa amor, lo que importa… - doesn't matter love, what matters…

Me gustas asi - I like you like this

no te cambiaría nada - wouldn't change a thing

¿Qué hay de Marc? - what about Marc?

¿Qué con él? - What about him?

No mi amor - no my love

bebé - baby

má - (short for mom)

#jake lockley #marvel #moon knight #steven grant #moon knight system #marc spector #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x y/n #jake lockely x you #i'll die for soft jake #steven grant x you #marc spector x you #marc spector x reader #marc spector fanfic #jake lockley fanfiction #steven grant fanfiction #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending

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