#I KNOW THIS IS NOT THE REASON WHY BUT. allow me to draw the red line here.

[squuote]

this silly line of secret dialogue you get in the demo when you try to go back through the entry you came from is kinda sending me places. is this why he hid the memory zone in the files away from the developers

[nariism]

you're mad at him.

you're mad at him and he knows it. you've been giving wriothesley the silent treatment ever since you arrived at the fortress of meropide, bandages in hand and a flurry of curses erupting nonstop from your mouth.

not a single word has been uttered between you since you sat him down in his office. despite refusing to speak to him, much less look him in the eye, you're dutifully bandaging up his raw knuckles like you remember sigewinne showing you back when she decided to go on vacation.

"it's very easy," her voice rings in your ears. you bite your tongue to prevent yourself from snarking back at her imaginary presence.

you only hoped she was enjoying herself up on the surface, accompanying neuvillette for the first time in ages. while she absolutely did deserve a vacation, you wished that she had given wriothesley a stern set of instructions to take care of himself in her absence.

if she did, maybe you wouldn't have had to come all the way down here just to witness him in such a state. your poor heart can't take this kind of worry.

the warden has come out the pankration the most unscathed, only sporting a split lip and bloody nose. his knuckles are red and cut, but it's nothing in comparison to the two inmates who had decided it was a good idea to incite a riot in what should be a controlled environment of the prison.

physically, he's fine. emotionally, he's having a complete meltdown.

he can't take this silence anymore; can't bear having you be upset with him, knowing that he should have been more careful about rushing in to stop the riot himself. the prison is crawling with guards for a reason, yet in his haste he decided it would be faster to intervene alone.

"hey," wriothesley calls out softly, timid despite his looming presence over you. "i didn't mean to worry you or–"

"why can't you be more careful?" you suddenly interrupt, voice cracking weakly. you gaze up from where you're kneeling on the floor, bandages halting in the air while you challenge him with your eyes. "don't you know how stupid and reckless that was?"

he holds your stare for a few moments, stunned by your sudden rebuttal. and then you tear your eyes away from his again, focusing back on tenderly wrapping up his hand.

"you always make me so worried staying down here day and night," you continue, voice so quiet he can barely make out your words.

"i'm sorry," he tells you earnestly.

"i know you're strong. i know it. but you're not invincible. would it kill you to cherish your life a little more?"

"i'm sorry," he says again.

you falter, a sigh escaping you as you peer up at him again. there's something softer in the way you look at him now, with all your frustration melting away into concern. you rummage through your bag for a wet wipe before standing to cradle his face.

wriothesley can't breathe when you're being so gentle with him. his hands find your waist and squeeze it to draw you even closer, until he can almost rest his head against your stomach.

"i love you," you finally tell him, and he feels the relief wash over him. "i can't stand seeing you hurt, so please be more careful."

you swipe the cloth under his nose a few times, gently dabbing at the skin and cleaning up the blood that has dried there. his steely eyes drift shut under your warm touch, allowing you to clean his face. when he only nods in response, your hand stops.

"promise me."

he looks at you again, a brow raised at your stern tone. but he would always relent to you, no matter what it is you wanted.

"i promise."

you blink down at him for a second, taking in how beautiful he is underneath his bloody nose. finally, you lean down to kiss the top of his head— a gesture of forgiveness and love that he's grown so accustomed to.

there's sunshine in your smile when you pull away from him to discard the used wipe, all previous signs of anguish gone from your expression.

his heart nearly stops at the sight.

you were right. he should cherish himself more. he can't stand seeing you fret over him even if it is a little endearing.

for now, he'll just enjoy having you take care of him. it's been so long since he returned to the surface, all he wants to do right now is bask in the light you bring down here with you.

"oh nurse," he teases, giving your hips another squeeze. "my lip got busted, too. got a remedy?"

you roll your eyes but press a kiss to his lips anyways.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[luveline]

also if you’re still taking requests for some established relationship criminal minds fics…

could i possibly get spencer and his bombshell when she’s having issues with not getting as hungry as she usually does? like she eats her fill but her fill is less food than she normally eats? this is very self indulgent so feel free to skip 🙏

thank you for requesting <3 bombshell, fem

“Spencer, lovely?” 

Spencer believes that only occasionally do you use your powers of seduction against him. This stringing of words, Spencer, his name, rolling off of your tongue, and lovely, so quaint and said so nicely, how you’ve called out, that’s unintentional. That’s pure niceness. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, getting up to find you. 

The point of you staying at Spencer’s apartment is to see you, why isn’t he seeing you? (Dramatic. He invites you to spend time here because you want to and he wants you, and whatever you do while you’re here is fine by him.) 

You’re in the kitchen peeling fruits. A whole fruit salad, green and red apples cut in small slices like prep for an apple-sugar crumble, peeled tangerine, strawberries, pear, grapes. “Nothing is wrong,” you sing-song. “Wait, why do you think that?” 

“No reason.” He sweeps as much of your mountain of peels and off cuts into his hand as he can and carries it to his mini compost bin. This’ll take some time. “You did call me, though?” 

“Yeah, I want your opinion.” You slice through another strawberry.

Spencer cleans the last of the peels away, rinses his hands, and creeps up on you. “Why are you drawing this out? Is it an important question? Don’t be nervous,” he says, wrapping his arms around you from behind. Your shoulder is soft where he presses his nose. 

“It’s not important, I just wanna know if you think it’s okay to melt some chocolate and drizzle it over the fruit. Is that greedy? Am I gonna go into a sugar overload?” 

“That’s not greedy.” Spencer laughs softly, kissing your cheek. 

You pull away from him, but only to look at him with your own smile. It’s one he’s starting to know rather well, the I love you smile, fond and indulgent at once. It makes you look like you’re gonna pinch his cheeks. 

“You’re hungry, right?” you ask. 

“Yeah, I am.” It’s a lot of fruit. Spencer doesn’t know exactly why he says it at that very moment, but he suggests, “How about we make a little pot for fondue instead. That way if we don’t eat it all now we can put the fruit back in the fridge.” 

“You just want me to feed you,” you tease. 

Spencer hadn’t thought about it, but the image is a pleasant one. “Fondue was invented purely for dessert purposes at first, no seduction involved.” 

“Let’s involve it anyway.” 

He grins. “Before or after we eat?” he asks lightly. 

You tell him before in a way that reminds him that you aren’t just his best friend but his twin flame, drawing him close to you, your hands fragrant with orange rind and the sweet strawberry juice staining your fingertips. You take his face into your hands as he holds your waist, and when you kiss him, he smiles the entire time. 

“It wasn’t just chocolate,” he says, pulling away. “It was cream and cherry liquor, too.” 

“We should try it one day.” 

Spencer resists the urge to grab your face and squeeze your cheeks. “Yeah, we will.” 

He melts some chocolate and heats a small round dish in the oven. He pours the chocolate into the dish and you, impressed, sing his praises as you make some lemonade slush in the blender. It’s a fresh, cold snack for a warmer day. You take it in the living room with the window wide open and the drapes drawn back, sunshine at your feet. 

Spencer pulls you into his lap as much as you’ll allow him on the couch, the coffee table dragged to be in front of you, the TV remote held hostage under your arm. You dip a slice of apple into chocolate and offer it to him.

Spencer accepts it. He finds, as the bowl empties, the chocolate cools, that you don’t seem to eat very much. He slows his grazing in case he’s being greedy, but after what could only be a handful of fruit you’re done, curling into his side and hugging his leg. Your attention is on the TV but your legs wiggle restlessly.

“Is something on your mind?” he asks. 

“I don’t feel very hungry.” 

“That’s okay. It was a lot of fruit, angel, we can wrap it up.” 

“I feel like my appetite is awful lately,” you lament, sitting up to tip back across his lap, your shoulders to his thighs, looking up at him with a frown. “Do I look like I’ve lost weight to you?” 

Spencer holds your cheek. “I haven’t noticed anything, are you worried?” he asks, rubbing the softest part of your cheek with his thumb. 

“I guess it’s not a bad thing?” You wince. 

“It’s not a bad thing if you don’t feel hungry, but you need to eat. Maybe we can just switch to some dense food for a while. Protein bars and nuts, stuff like that.” Spencer leans down to tap your noses together. You laugh under your breath. “Do you want to lose weight?” he asks, frowning. 

“Not really. I’d prefer not to.” 

“Okay, good. You’re perfect like this,” he says. “We can just make sure you get your intake through whatever means necessary until we figure out what’s changed. Maybe you’re just changing. We can start having smaller meals throughout the day. It’s better for digestion.” 

You reach for a curl, twisting it around your fingers. “I have an appetite for you, at least.” 

“That’s corny,” he says. 

“You love it, though.” 

Spencer pushes the ‘diminishing appetite’ search results from his head. He can worry later, when you’ve been well and thoroughly kissed. 

[sanemistar]

too close — sanemi shinazugawa

contents ★ fem!reader, fluff, enemies to lovers, wc: 1.k ﾉ requested for my milestone event. note: this turned out to be much longer than i intended to omg event m.list ★ kny m.list

you had no idea how you ended up in this position with sanemi of all people, he was the very last person you had in mind when imagining scenarios like that. yet there you were, leaning so close to him, a little too close. the very little distance between two of you was so alarming to the point where you could feel his every hot breath fanning against the skin of your face, sending shivers down your spine. your eyes directly staring into his own deep lilac ones in a painfully prolonged gaze, as if you were seeing through each other’s souls. the surrounding air was filled with tension that was so intense and so strong. it was so silent that you could hear the sound of your own heartbeat as you heart raced like crazy like it was about to burst out of your chest and explode.

“you’re way too close…” sanemi finally spoke up in an irritated tone, breaking the thick layer of awkward silence around you. his eyebrows furrowed in perplexity as a confused expression made its way onto his face. by then, you would’ve immediately leaned back, walked away from him, and acted like nothing had ever happened. but for some odd reason, your feet were still heavily glued to the ground, not daring to move an inch as your face became even closer to his. like if there was some sort of gravity drawing you in, pulling you closer towards him.

“and if i get closer, will you push me away?” you replied back in a somewhat teasing tone, which was probably just to get a reaction from him before he’d get you off of him and leave. you enjoyed seeing his mad reactions, he was your rival after all. but instead of getting the usual mad reaction you had expected, sanemi fell silent. as if he was contemplating on what to say next, which was quite unlike him. the sanemi you knew would’ve pushed you to the side and stormed off without a second thought, so the way he reacted made you feel a little nervous, a little unsettled. like why was he still close, why was he still there? questions and rampant thoughts were running wild in your head.

“you want me to? or do ya want us to kiss or something?” he asked back as the saga of questions continued. until a strange, unfamiliar desire suddenly hit you upon hearing his words. and before you had realized that you had no control over your body, it moved on its own. closing the whatever remaining distance left between you and him as your hand quickly grabbed his shirt and smacked your lips on top of his, pulling him into a quick kiss that only lasted for just mere seconds. it was clumsy, hasty and full of uncertainty, completely different from what you had in mind. maybe because you weren't kissing someone you had a crush on, but a person you thought of as an enemy.

you didn’t know what possessed you back then when you did that, you weren't the type to act on impulses. every single move you took, no matter how small, was carefully calculated, you never acted recklessly. and for the first time in your life, you defied your logic and broke your own rules as you allowed yourself to act upon your emotions in the heat of the moment. you were overwhelmed with a mix of new emotions you never thought you would feel, and you couldn’t believe yourself. the man in front of you whom you just kissed was your foe, your arch-enemy, your nemesis. you were supposed to hate, and even regret initiating it. but surprisingly, the only thing you regretted was breaking the kiss too quickly and abruptly.

who would've thought that kissing one's enemy would be so good, was what you thought.

you were certain that your face was flushed in embarrassment and was as red as a tomato. he'd probably laugh at you and tease you about it for as long as you lived, you basically gave him an opportunity on a golden plate.

or at least, that was what you thought was the case.

what you never saw coming though was that, instead of him acting in his usual aggressive attitude, his eyes were wide open, clearly taken aback by the sudden action. he was showing a softer expression, one that you'd never seen before. a slight tint of red decorated his scarred face. it got you thinking that maybe it wasn't a bad idea after all.

"i dunno what have you done to me, but i wanna kiss you again." sanemi admitted as he leaned close to you once again, and you'd nodded in agreement before you locked your lips with his again for a second time. this time, it was a slow, passionate kiss. completely different from the first one. and you made sure to take your sweet time savoring his taste. unexpectedly, he tasted like ohagi, so sugary and sweet. contrasting his standoffish, scary demeanor.

you hadn't realized that you two had been kissing for quite some time until you felt yourself unable to breathe properly as your chest rapidly moved up and down, and that your lungs were practically begging for air. the two of you pulled away, panting as you desperately needed some air. your head was still spinning and dizzy as an aftermath of that intimate kiss, it was much better than the first one that you were left wanting more.

"i think i'll like you, so how about a third kiss?" you softly whispered against his ear as he slightly flinched. "you know the saying, third time's the charm." coaxing him to go in one more time.

before that day the thought of you kissing sanemi would've never crossed your mind, let alone liking him. but if you could go back in time, you'd still choose him, your dear nemesis, again and again. in a heartbeat.

taglist: @sylusdoll @ayrastv @spkyssn @stunies

[risuola]

ENTRY #8 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // You said you love me, I heard it between the lines.

contents: arranged marriage!au, it gets a little steamy, reader discretion is advised — wc. 2556

a/n: longer part, little steam, some more confused fools in love, what else can we want ♡ i kinda enjoy writing the story a little more from satoru's pov, i hope you don't mind! also, the wedding picture that my friend draw for me is here for anyone interested!

series masterlist

You love him.

Well, technically, you didn’t say you love him. You were tidying just next to him, wiping the dust off the shelves and he was on the couch, doing paperwork that might’ve been — and most likely were — partially responsible for his poor mood. He hated paperwork and ironically, Yaga loved giving him a fair share of it — it was fair, he knew that. His missions, his forms to fill but couldn’t Ijichi take care of it–

“We should retake that picture one day,” he heard you muse and he didn’t need to look up to know what picture you had in mind. You had, after all, just one picture together and it was taken forcefully as a proof of your marriage, right after the ceremony. He was in a suit, black and crisp, looking good as always with his glasses — that he didn’t bother taking off for the photo — resting on the bridge of his nose, low enough to show a little bit of his eyes and high enough to hide the lack of amusement he felt that day. You were in front of him, partially exposing your bare back to the camera and holding a bouquet of flowers that someone got you — not him, that’s for sure. As he thought of it, you were looking stunning. Breathtaking, to say the least, in the long white dress, not too plain but definitely not overly embellished. You didn’t need to be dressed in layers of princess-worthy fabrics to look like one. The picture though — it lacked emotion. You were there with him and he was there with you, but you weren’t together on it. You were just both in the frame.

“Why would we?” He asked dryly, growing more and more irritated by the bureaucracy at hand. He was stuck on one of the points, the one he disliked the most because it required him to elaborate on something that didn’t need to be elaborated on. Why would he describe the curses he saw, evaluate their strengths and consider their techniques, when he turned them to dust before they even realized he was there?

“It would be nice to have a wedding picture with some actual love in it, not just a dry, forced pose and stone faces,” you reasoned and your voice was light, it was innocent almost as if you were speaking of something so obviously natural. As if you were not considering exchanging the picture-proof of your arranged marriage into one of real marriage.

“We’re not married for love, do I need to remind you?” Satoru scoffed. He was annoyed. At you, because you were able to make his heart beat in ways he never knew are possible and at himself — for letting that happen. Or for saying what he just said because of course you knew the marriage wasn’t based on love and it didn’t change the fact you just allowed your mouth to slip away words that shouldn’t be slipped. He was annoyed because you shouldn’t feel that way, because he wasn’t ready to hear it, because he’s a coward.

But, instead of getting annoyed, he heard you chuckling. It was an odd point in your marriage. You were closer, the closest you’ve been until now, but the feelings that were undeniably blooming underneath the surface had to force their way through the layer of sarcasm he and you spread out thickly over the course of past weeks. You were still foreign to affection but curiously exploring the topic with each other and Satoru was suffering severe heart palpitations because of it. You seemed to enjoy it though — your smiles and very purposeful touches were enough of a proof of it.

Satoru sometimes wished he could fluster you just as you fluster him and he would give the world to see your face tinted with deep, red blush because of him. He will see you like this one day, but for now, you were still learning to express civil behaviors in the confines of your shared house. You called it a success that fights were much rarer now than at the beginning; perhaps you grew accustomed to the amount of snarkiness and irony or maybe it mellowed down. Maybe the fact that you were spending more and more time together, now working at school side by side, had something to do with the much warmer relation shyly building itself up between you, or maybe it’s because of the long, late night talks you share every night when he’s laying in bed with you.

“Oh, you really should shut up sometimes,” you said and he felt you approaching.

“I should, huh?” He rolled his eyes and smirked, eager to put down the papers and pay his attention to you. His eyes, that first landed on your legs, moved up following the shape of your body until he met your gaze. “And who are you to order me such things?”

“Your wife, Satoru, we’re married, as you probably noticed,” you snapped back, but something in the tone of your voice told him, you’re not as bothered as the bite of your words suggested.

“Married,” he said, humming. His smirk faltered just slightly and for a second, he was silenced by your presence. He couldn’t bring himself to fight against it. “And hating every second of it.” But he’d still reached forward to take your hand.

This time, it's you who rolled eyes but you allowed your fingers to intertwine with his. You sat down next to him, dropping your weight onto the soft, bouncy cushions and positioning yourself in a way to be able to face him. The top of your knee met the side of his thigh and Gojo put the pile of formalities to the side. “You are annoying, you know that, right?”

“I’ve been told,” Satoru said, his mouth twitching into a small smile. “Several times. By you, actually.” He chuckled and shifted a little on the couch. His free arm was rested along the backrest and he leaned his head back, giving you a sideways look. “But I know I am,” he teased with a smirk now fully bloomed on his features. “I’m glad you’re at least acknowledging it.”

“Kinda hard to miss when it’s written all over your face,” you teased him back and he laughed, running his thumb along the side of your hand. Then, he was rubbing small circles onto your skin, grazing over the delicate spots of your wrist.

“Oh? You’ve been paying more attention to me than I thought.”

“You really need to shut up,” you sighed, exhaling slowly in feigned annoyance, but you were clearly amused by his antics and he was growing amused too. Gojo was testing you, seeing how far you were willing to push him. He had every intention of testing your boundaries, pushing your buttons. He was curious, excited even, to see where it could go. You were incredible, Satoru thought, because weeks before he was sure he was going to break you, get you to back off, but you just kept coming at him. He wasn’t complaining.

“But I don’t want to,” he said, his tone teasing as he leaned towards you, bringing his face inches from yours. Your eyes met and the air got a little thicker, a little more warm. “What are you gonna do about it?” His voice was quiet, murmur-like, challenging. He didn’t let go of your wrist or stop the soft circles of his thumb.

“Easy,” you scoffed, but a smile tugged on the corners of your mouth when you leaned in as well. Your head tilted and then, your lips were just breath away from his own. “I’ll shut you myself,” you whispered, right against his face.

Satoru nearly lost it when he felt your breath on his lips. His heart seemed to skip a beat, this wasn’t how he thought this conversation would go, but he wasn’t exactly complaining. He wasn’t supposed to get jealous, to want you, to need you, but now that you were this close, there was no way he was going to let it end here.

He leaned a little closer as well, closing the distance just a bit more. He was practically asking for your lips to meet and the way your voice teased him when you whispered– oh, the man was getting weak. For the first time, he was speechless. His eyes drifted shut, the feel of your lips so close being enough to set him on fire. The silence hung in the air for only a moment before he pulled you to him, his mouth crashing into yours. He wanted to feel you against him as much as he could. One of his hands went to the back of your head and he began to pull you even tighter.

And you purred. Climbing on top of him, straddling his lap and the moment your legs gripped onto his, every thought was lost, every desire was awakened. One of his arms naturally shifted to pull you against his body and the other was in your hair, tangled within the strands. He felt the heat of you on his chest, he felt you on top of him and in his mind, there was no place he wanted you more. Satoru couldn't get enough of you, of being close.

His back was against the couch, he was kissing you roughly, almost desperately as if there was no air on the planet anymore and you were the only saving grace. He had waited so long to do this, wished for it. Every morning he spent looking at your calm, sleeping face he wondered what would you do if he made a move, if he kissed you softly, if he woke you up with his touch.

And now that it was happening.

He didn’t want to waste a single second. Your hands run over his shoulders and brushed through his hair, pulling and tugging them ever so slightly and he shivered from how close to the edge it brought him. Your touch was electric, sending tendrils of pleasure right through his system, filling his veins with something warm and unknown, making him lose himself into the feeling.

Your tongues met, exploring each other and he was focused on the taste of your lips, the sharpness of your teeth closing teasingly on his lower lip from time to time, the sound of your breathing and how soft and smooth your skin was against his own. Your nose was brushing against his every time you shifted your head and each movement made him want more. He felt like he could spend the rest of his life kissing you.

Satoru’s hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer and he leaned forward, pressing himself against you. He had a good bit more muscle than you and he wasn’t afraid to use it if it meant pulling you even closer, leaving no space between. Your body fit with his, the two of you like puzzle pieces fitting together in the perfect spot.

His hands were moving, following the shapes of you, learning them as his fingers were brushing your sides, his thumb sliding along your back. He gripped your waist a little harder and then, his mouth fell to your neck. You whimpered and a small groan escaped his lips as he kissed you there, his lips and tongue making their way to the soft, delicate skin behind your ear and you gasped on air when his teeth grazed the shell of your lobe.

Your fingers tightened on the muscles of his shoulders, searching for a way to ground yourself and you struggled to stay present, when he made it so easy to get lost.

A smile tugged on Gojo’s lips, he felt how hot your cheek was against the side of his head when he peppered tender kisses along the side of your neck. Then, he pulled away from you for a moment, breathing heavily. His eyes flickered over your face, taking in the sight of you before they dropped to your mouth once more. You were so pretty like this, panting and with your lips parted and swollen, red and glistening with saliva. You were so gorgeous with blush spilled over your complexion, with your half-lidded eyes and your arms around him.

His hands were still on your waist, and his lips found yours again — just as hungry and desperate as it was before.

“God,” he breathed, between one kiss and another. His voice was rough and gruff, carried by the heavy breaths and want. “I can’t believe I’m married to you,” he said, his tone full of awe. “Positive.”

He felt your lips curve upwards and your body squirm against him, and that was enough to make him almost lose control over himself. His hand moved from your waist to the hem of your shirt, moving it just enough to get access to the skin beneath it. He kept kissing you and his fingers were shifting from the hem back to your waist, then back again. You were so soft, and his entire body was filled with the urge to explore it. To taste it. To learn it.

He leaned back just slightly, breaking the kiss and you let out a soft sigh. Your cheek was now pressed against his shoulder, your face exposed. He rested his head against yours, his eyes fluttered shut and all he could hear was a mixture of breaths and his own heart.

“We should stop,” he whispered, sighing and you hummed, nuzzling your nose into his neck, kissing him there.

And like that, Satoru melted.

His body relaxed against yours once more. The breath he took was long and shaky, the sensation of your lips on his neck making his brain short circuit. Any thought he’d had of actually stopping threatened to fell to the wayside.

“We should really stop,” he repeated, louder this time, but he wasn’t making any attempts to move you off his lap. His hands gripped you a little more instead. “You’re gonna make me lose control.”

“Isn’t that a tempting thought,” you teased, the softest mischief lining your tone and you gave the side of his neck a little kitten-lick. Satoru groaned when your tongue touched his neck. His hold tightened on you, his fingers digging into your waist.

“Oh god, don’t do that,” he whispered, sounding desperate. His arm came up to brush your hair out of your face and he leaned his head to the side, giving you better access to his neck, despite all of his instincts telling him to not do that.

“Don’t do what?” Your voice rumbled against his flesh, the sensitive area leading from his ear to his shoulder vulnerable and exposed to your whims.

"That."

"That?"

Gojo jolted the moment your teeth sunk into his skin, just barely hard enough to leave a mark and it made him lose it. With a deep groan, his head shot upwards. The hand that had been running through your hair now gripped your hip, and in an instant, he had you flipped so you were flat on your back, him on top and the papers he’s got from Yaga long forgotten and spread all over the floor.

He’ll worry about them later.

Now: you.

taglist: @kinny-away @anan-baban @lotomber @netflix-imagines @kawliflo @nishloves @ghostfacefricker6969 @thejujvtsupost @yozora7154 @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost @stuckinmoilalaland @ae-mius @ropickle @chokesonspit @lansy-4 @mo0sin @just-pure-trash @foliea @bakarinnie

[milswrites]

Stubborn Little Fox

~ Eris Vanserra X Reader

Summary: Eris struggles to look after his stubborn mate when you are sick.

Warnings: Poorly reader but it’s pretty much fluff. Maybe some suggestiveness.

Notes: Just a silly little fic to tide you over until I finish the angst I’m writing. Dedicated to @sarawritestories who wrote me this exact scenario in an attempt to get me to stop writing and go to bed 😌

Your bed was empty.

Again. 

The wrinkled covers pulled back to reveal the bare sheets of where you had once laid, where Eris was supposed find you soundly sleeping upon entering the room.

The Autumn Prince cursed lowly under his breath, knuckles turning white with frustration as he tightly gripped onto the tray of food he had prepared for you.

It was easier to control his hounds - Eris thought as he carefully placed the tray down on the edge of the bed, lest he toss its contents onto the floor in his anger.

Eris was used to completing impossible jobs, and yet nothing has been more difficult than trying to wrangle his sick mate and convince you to sleep away your illness. Your inability to sit still making caring for you harder than Eris had initially anticipated.

He needn’t try too hard to find you, a swift wander down the hall and to his office was all Eris needed to walk before he opened the door to find your sickly form hunched over his desk with a pen in hand. Scribbling away at whatever documents had been left for you once you had recovered.

It was impossible to stop the exasperated sigh which fell from his lips as he took in the paleness of your face and the worrying sheen of sweat which had coated it.

“And why, pray tell me, aren’t you in bed where you’re supposed to be Little Fox?” Eris snarled, all comfort forgotten as he once more found himself trying to coax you back towards your bed.

With shaking hands you reluctantly place your pen down, guilty eyes meeting the burning stare of your mates unforgiving glare. “I’ve got work to finish!” You defend, gesturing to the stack of paperwork which had only grown during your absence from your job.

At your excuse, the red-haired male inhaled deeply, a disbelieving hand coming to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. And it wasn’t until Eris exhaled his frustrations that he allowed himself to reply as softly as he could, “work can wait until you’re feeling better.”

“It can’t,” you reason, a disappointed sigh drawing from your sickly lips, “I’m far enough behind as it is. Another day without work and I’ll never be able to catch up. Besides, I’m fine. I feel much better now.”

Whilst Eris prided himself on holding back the roll of his eyes which threatened to occur, he failed to stop the raise of his brow as you proceeded to burst into a fit of coughs after your weak-willed reassurances.

“All better?” He mused, a small smirk finding its home on his lips as he watched you pitifully try to compose yourself. Innocent eyes meeting his own as your incessant coughing eventually came to a halt.

“I have to say Little Fox, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you like going against my orders” Eris chided, slowly walking towards you as he spoke. Each step forward drawing you deeper into his hypnotic trance. “Would I be correct in assuming you keep leaving your bed because you want me to scold you?” He asks teasingly, bringing his face down to meet yours, until his playful eyes were level with your own.

“I can’t say I’d hate it if you had to take care of me” you replied honestly, unable to help the way your gaze drifted towards your mates slightly parted lips.

“Is that not what I’ve been doing all this time?” Eris feigns hurt which fails to read through his wicked smile, “Taking care of my mate?”

“I can think of a few more ways I’d like to be taken care of” you answer, hoping to be seductive but ultimately failing as another round of coughs wrack your chest.

“Later” Eris chuckled, his strong arms coming to lift you from where you were sat, “for now you need sleep.”

You furrow your brows in protest, opening your mouth to argue with your mate before he beat you to it. Eris’s soothing voice acting to calm you, “Don’t worry, I’m going to have to cuddle you just to make sure you don’t run off anywhere else.”

Eris’s warm lips came to meet your aching forehead, his kiss already working to dissipate the uncomfortable pulsating of your sore temples. Your mates healing touch enough to already have you drifting off in his comforting embrace.

“My stubborn Little Fox,” he uttered as he began to move back towards the bedroom which you shared, cradling you close to his body in hope that the heat which he emitted would soothe your aching joints, “you better feel well again soon, I’ll be waiting to deliver your punishment for disobeying me.”

You hum happily in response, nuzzling your face into his warm chest to hide your smirk of anticipation, “I’m looking forward to it, My Prince.”

It was only once you woke, when your fever had broken and the ache in your muscles had quelled, that you noticed that Eris was no longer holding you. That it was his turn to escape the comfortable confines of your sheets which had now grown cold in his absence.

Stepping out from the warmth of your covers, you walked barefoot across the cold wooden floors. Seeking the ever-lasting warmth of your mate. You followed the call, moving through the hall until you found yourself outside his office, the strong scent of crackling wood and chestnuts enough to tell you the male was waiting inside.

Cracking open the door you peered inside, noting the way Eris was slumped over the freshly inked papers you had saved to work on when your health had improved.

Your mate - your selfless, loving mate - had completed them all. No doubt seeking to ease your worries and provide you with the extra hours of rest you would no doubt need once you had woken.

Quietly pulling the door to, you move to the kitchen to prepare your love a warming tea. Because as much as Eris longed to take care of those he loved so dearly, sometimes what he needed was for someone to take care of him in return.

[pricegouge]

Get Her a Dog (She'll be Happier For It)

Part Four | master list | taglist | MDNI

Soap x reader, Price x reader, eventual PriceSoap x reader

series cw: cheating. dubcon. angst. cuckholding. pet play.

chapter cw: angst, pining for another man's wife

reader is fem and fat

He's low on the boy's list of priorities, it seems, his first day back from medical leave leading him far and wide across base before settling into John's visitor seat so late in the day. John didn't mind that, was honestly surprised to see him there at all considering the shallow relationship the two of them shared. What he did mind was the chosen topic of conversation.

It's late when Soap comes, the sun low enough to shine through the slots of John's blinds. That peaceful golden hour when the dust motes dance distractingly. He never gets much work done on days like this, when the sun warms his back, coaxing him outside to enjoy a sunlit fall day - a right novelty in England. It's the only reason he'd accepted the visit, Soap's knock at the door finding John elbow deep in paperwork he wouldn't have the attention span for until the sun had at least dipped below the armory building, his tablet sitting idle just wasting battery. He's low on the boy's list of priorities, it seems, his first day back from medical leave leading him far and wide across base before settling into John's visitor seat so late in the day. John didn't mind that, was honestly surprised to see him there at all considering the shallow relationship the two of them shared. What he did mind was the chosen topic of conversation.

"She said she wants what?"

"Mah bairn, cap. A baby, ye ken?"

If not for the years of training lining John's belt, he worries what he'd do to the unnervingly bright eyes Soap has trained on him in that moment. He wants to blacken them, maybe pluck them out of his pretty, dense head. He wants to see them shiny and wet with tears, red rimmed and bloodshot - doesn't know what to do with the urge, and doesn't even fully understand where it stems from either. Instead he draws a careful breath, takes a moment to be sure his voice is steady by carefully straightening and locking the screen in front of him. Across the desk, Soap looks ready to vibrate out of his seat, nerves shot beyond recognition despite the weeks of recuperation he's just getting back from. John decidedly does not think too hard about how the bird's been keeping her man tired out, the edges of his jealousy already honed sharp.

"I ken, Soap. What's this to do with me?"

John expects embarrassment, perhaps confusion. Something to show either Soap is misguided, or perhaps that there's a connecting piece John himself is missing. But the boy's eager in his response, leaning across his captain's desk with no concept of decorum. "Ye gotta talk some sense into her, cap," he pleads. "She'll listen tae ye - always has. Ye gotta tell her why it's a terrible idea, that -."

"A terrible idea?" If his voice sounds calm, it's a testament to the damage a lifetime's worth of scotch and cigars have done to his vocal chords, the constant hoarseness allowing his anger to go unnoticed here. 

"Aye, we're no' ready for a bairn, cap - hardly more than kids ourselves," he whines, and not for the first time, John thinks maybe he's right. Except -

"You are an officer. In the S.A.S." 

Soap has the decency to blanch, at least. "And tha's another reason! Ah'm ne'er home, cap! The last thing she needs is tae be raising a bairn herself."

John shakes his head, breath puffing out of him like steam. He has an urge to break his stylus in half so instead places it on the desk with unnecessary force. "Son, were you a candy striper when you said those vows?"

"Sir -?"

"Candy striper or a soldier, Soap, what were you?"

John knows his man well enough to spot the deep flush working its way up from under Soap's collar, recognizes the low set of his heavy brow. The way he himself tenses to meet it would be admirable, if not directed at his own subordinate. "A soldier, sir."

"And when you promised that woman kids, were you selling shoes?"

"Ye have a point, ah assume?"

John glowers, unable to even muster the patronizing look he usually adopts for conversations like this. "My point, is I'm not sure what you expected to happen. You gave that woman your name. You made plans for children. So why's it a problem now?" Across the years, an echo of a similar argument rings in his ears, the pleas once used against himself now slotting into place, loaded - fully automatic. He couldn't say why he was helping the man across from him, though. Loyalty, maybe. More likely, his desperate need for closure lies somehow even stronger than his growing desire to rip the other man's relationship apart.

Soap splutters. "It's no' a problem, it's jes' tha' -." He stops, squints, seems to roll his tongue in contemplation. "Well, ye kno' how it is, cap. Ne'er gonnae be the righ' time in this job."

By some miracle, John doesn't take the bait. He takes a deep breath instead, thinks about the favor he'll be able to call in after he tells Kate how level-headed he's being today. "MacTavish," he says patronizingly, revels in the thrumming of a particularly aggressive vein in the boy's bare temple. "I do know how it is, so you can take it from me when I say it will never be the right time. But you can also take it from me that it won't matter to your bird. She is lonely and wants a babe, and you're going to give her one because that is what you promised you would do."

"Will nae," the scott seethes, leaning close across the desk again. "A bairn won't fix anything, cap. She jes' wants -."

There are times when John's ability to command a room - to command unruly gits like the sergeant across from him - takes even him by surprise. It does so now, when his voice curls deep and dark and low and damn near knocks Soap back on his ass. "And something does need fixing, does it?" Johnny just stares at his captain, deflated and lost. John sighs again, drums his thumb on the desk agitatedly, the wood worn from years of use, the same spot weathered by his many frustrations. The fight might have left the sergeant, but John's still desperately searching for something to lay into, his bruised ego telling him Soap's the source of all his troubles and right there, causing yet more. Still, he has to trust the man with his life, and telling Soap if he doesn't fuck a babe into his wife soon John himself will probably isn't conducive to that end so he bites his tongue - literally and figuratively - and drags his seat closer to the desk, works his pent up energy off by planting his boots too aggressively when he spreads his legs. All tells, all things he knows the boy is trained to watch for. His patience has bounds, though, and he couldn't care less if Soap clocked him for it. "If you want my advice, your bird's a soft one. She needs something to care for, so if you won't give her a babe, at least get her a dog."

Soap blinks, leans out of John's space - a subtle bow out he does nothing to make casual. John eats it like paid dues. "Soft," he repeats. John does not close his eyes in frustration, afraid of the supple curves burned into the back of his eyelids which await him there every night, every blink. "A dog?"

"You're familiar, I assume?"

The vein in Soap's temple throbs back to life, but the boy does a decent job of schooling his expression this time. "Aye, ah'm familiar." A beat passes, Soap flicks at John's stylus - likely too deep in thought to worry about the insult of it. John debates kicking his chair over anyway. "Can't have a dog at our place."

"Then buy her a proper house!" John thunders, too frustrated to find Soap's blindsided expression funny.

He regrets it when he gets the home warming invitation in the mail a month later.

[q1ngqve]

What if Ratio's s/o is feeling a little insecure about herself and Ratio's like "Are you saying I have bad taste? 🤨 Quite dumb of you to say. Allow me to show you how much I adore you..."

Fingers his s/o to the point where she squirts, and then stuffing his cock inside her cunny while whispering about how much he loves her...

"perfection is not defined by arbitrary standards imposed by society. true beauty emanates from authenticity, and you, my love, possess an authenticity that shines brighter than any star in the cosmos."

CW; insecure reader, fingering, squirting, overstimulation, penetration (v)

he'd be offended (lowkey) because he thinks very highly of you! so don’t blame him when he frowns, a slight downward tilt on his lips as he asks why you would ever feel / think this way

"are you saying I have bad taste? quite dumb of you to say so." despite his harsh words, his tone is soft and comforting, wrapping his arms around you in the process, head resting on your shoulder

you are literally the most amazing person he's ever met (I would say perfect but he knows nobody is perfect), he just couldn't wrap his head around your reasons for being insecure, but he understands that everybody has their low days, and it just so happens to be yours!

and what good is he as your boyfriend if he doesn't cheer you up and show you just how beautiful you are to him?

plants kisses on the side of your neck lovingly, and you giggle softly as his hair tickles you, making him chuckle between his kisses. separates himself from you before grabbing your wrists and leads you to the bed, gesturing for you to lie down

"god, you are beautiful."

leans down to kiss you passionately, tongue running along your bottom lip as he removes your pants, flinging it to the side of the room. you pull back to catch your breath a few seconds later, eyes flickering away from his intense gaze. his red eyes burning straight through the wall you built, staring right into the deepest part of your soul, and you suddenly feel incredibly vulnerable

"I'm not..."

your boyfriend's head shakes, a sigh leaving him, "then allow me to prove you otherwise, show you just how much I adore you." your eyes meet his once again, and you feel your cheeks heating up at his statement

with a small nod of head as consent, his hand reaches for your face, cupping your cheek for a moment before moving down to your neck, to your collar bones, his mouth following after the trail he left behind

you squirm in place, feeling extremely insecure about yourself, today really isn't your day. he notices this almost immediately, and distracts you by sucking on your nipple through your shirt, letting his warm tongue prod at the perky bud

whines leave your lips as his hands trail further down, dipping in your damp panties, drawing slow, sensual circles on your clit with his middle finger, "ratio..."

your body tenses when a finger slips in, "stunning. absolutely stunning." a breathy laugh escapes him as your hands fly to the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss him fervently, "feels good, hmm?"

another finger joins the first, embarrassing squelching sounds fill the room as he pumps them into you with precision, hitting all your sensitive spots. it doesn't take long before you come undone on his fingers, and you feel a shudder run down your body when he smiles, "one more."

he doesn't give you the chance to calm down, plunging his fingers back in, and you clench around him, hard. the overstimulation making your head go empty, all negative thoughts of your body leaving your brain

when he hits that one spongy spot deep in you, your nails instinctively dig into his shoulders, successfully making your boyfriend smirk at your reaction

"wait— slow down! or I'm gonna—"

and of course he doesn't heed your warning, pushing and curling his fingers at a faster pace, thumb rubbing your clit, the occasional brush of his ring leaves your knees weak, your hips bucking on its own accord, trying to get that delicious friction again

a sudden warmth fills your core, your brain shutting down, and all you could hear was white noise buzzing inside you, your legs clenching together with his arm still between them

ratio curses under his breath at the sight before him — you with your back arched, eyes closed, mouth open, hips grinding against his hand as you ride out your high. he knew you were cumming, but he did not expect you to squirt, drenching his lower arm with your juices, the wetness shining under the bedroom light

your legs are pushed apart as you feel him climb between them, the clanking sound of his belt falling to the ground has you opening your eyes. you find yourself whining his name pathetically at the sight of him stroking his erect dick, the tip red and angry, curving at a slight angle with his veins looking like they may burst anytime

"apologies, my dear, but my patience is running out."

air gets knocked out of your lungs the moment he pushes all the way to the hilt, pulling a scream out from you. your body shakes uncontrollably from the overstimulation, hands desperately clawing at his chest and shoulders, trying to ground yourself with all your might

his hands grab at your hips, lifting you up slightly to thrust into you better as he kisses you again, this time so hard and rushed that your teeth clanks at some point. he'd pull away when you push at him, almost suffocating from the kiss, and you'd watch with tears in your eyes as he grits his teeth, jaw flexing each time he hits your cervix, soft grunts sounding at the back of his throat with each thrust

"you. are. absolutely. phenomenal." each word comes out hoarsely with each thrust, "every inch of you, perfection." tears stream down your face at his words, tiny gasps of whatever insecurities leave your body, "and don't you ever forget that."

you feel your pussy spasming around him, you're so so near to the edge, and you know he will he send you over with ease — angling his hips at the perfect angle, his own high approaching with each spasm of your warm gummy walls

"fuck— cum with me, please."

and you tense, gripping down on him like a vice, barely registering his groan of your name against your neck as you fall over the edge yet again. spurts of hot liquid fill your insides, leaving you a whimpering, crying mess under him. your boyfriend above you pants against your neck, his arms giving out slightly to press his body weight on you, trapping you beneath him, the weight and heat a comforting anchor for you to come back down

it takes a few minutes for the both of you to recover, and when you do, he's already kissing your collarbones, hands kneading your body softly, massaging at the red hand prints of his grip on your hips from before

sobs leave you unexpectedly as you wrap your arms around him, breaking down against his chest, wetting the fabric there. ratio's hands reach for your hair, pushing the fringe on your face back behind your ear, his thumb brushing the stray tears away from your eyes

soft tenderness appears in his own eyes as he leans closer to you, forehead touching yours, "while I may not fully comprehend the intricacies of your emotions, rest assured that my commitment to you remains unwavering. you are the reason my heart beats with such fervor, and you are cherished beyond measure."

you break into small giggles as more tears pour, and your hand reaching up to cup his face when you notice his nose and eyes turning red, tears welling in those beautiful shades of red and purple

"I love you."

[achromatophoric]

Wenclairtober 2024, Day 8 - Cuddling

Enid: You were doing WHAT?! And with XAVIER!?!

The werewolf is red-faced, blue eyes bright with emotion as she yells at her obviously confused girlfriend.

Wednesday: Mi lobita, I—

Enid: Don’t you lobita me! This loba es muy furiosa!

Wednesday: Está.

Enid: *blinks* What?

Wednsday: You meant to say ‘está muy furio—’

Enid: OHMYGOD! Now is NOT the time!!

Wednesday: Ah. Right.

Enid: So what do you have to say for yourself?

Wednesday: I did not think I required permission.

Enid: Permission!? Why would you even think about doing it with someone in the first place?

Wednesday: It seemed like a reasonable idea. I was surprised that Thorpe accepted my suggestion, so I took the opportunity to oblige him.

Wednesday: *thoughtfully* It was… fun.

Enid: *shocked outrage* Reasonable? FUN?!

Wednesday: *simply nods*

Enid: *angry tears* You can’t just— grrr— I know it’s not something we’ve like talked about, but you should have at least asked me.

Wednesday: I did not think you would be interested. You usually aren’t.

Enid: *jaw drops* Not interested? In the fact that MY girlfriend wanted intimate physical contact with that human dumpster fire? And what do you mean by usually?!

Wednesday: *hesitates* I… confess that Thorpe was not the only one that I have cud—

Enid: *shrieks* WHAT?!?

Wednesday: *flinches* Please allow me to explain. While I certainly find the act intimate and enjoyable, I am well aware that you do not share the sentiment. And I would never want to press you into something you do not enjoy.

Enid: *gawks*

Enid: *confused* Don’t enjoy— Wednesday, I LOVE it! You know this! I’m basically a slut for it! I’d do it with you all day every day if I flipping could!

Wednesday: *equally confused* You… would?

Enid: *exasperrated* Of course! What the heck makes you think I wouldn’t?

Wednesday: *considers* The hematomas, for one.

Enid: Wha—

Wednesday: And the sound of breaking bones.

Enid: *confusion intensifies*

Wednesday: I admit I may have assumed you wouldn’t like the tool, but perhaps if I procured one in pink…?

Enid: *stares*

Enid: Wednesday.

Wednesday: Yes, my beloved?

Enid: What are we talking about here?

Wednesday: My lamentable oversight in not including you in one of my hobbies.

Enid: *squints*

Wednesday: Ah— that I foolishly shared with Thorpe without regard for your feelings on the matter?

Enid: *chews lip*

Enid: Could you, like, repeat what you said before this whole argument started?

Wednesday: Of course. I said ‘I spent the afternoon cudgeling Thorpe in his shack.’

Enid: …

Enid: That word. What you were doing to Xavier. One more time, but like, slower.

Wednesday: Cud-gel-ing.

Enid: Not cuddling?

Wednesday: *disgusted* Absolutely not!

Enid: *embarrassed blush*

Enid: Uh— *clears throat* Babe, what the flip is cudgeling?

Wednesday: It is the gerund of the verb form of ‘cudgel,’ which is the act of beating with a cudgel.

Enid: And a cudgel is?

The seer produces a short medieval club. Strands of stringy hair and dried blood decorate the head.

Wednesday: This is my cudgel. I apologize for the condition. I have not had the chance to clean the Thorpe off.

Enid: *pales* Oh…

The seer draws a (wrong) conclusion from her girlfriend’s reaction and makes a decision.

Wednesday: *sharp nod* I shall procure you one in pink, so that we may cudgel together.

Enid: *eyes widen* Oh. Oh no, I couldn’t—

Wednesday: Mi corazón, please. It is the least I can do to make up for my transgressions. To think that I caused you such distress with my baseless assumptions—

Enid: H-Hey babe, it’s okay! I forgive you!

Wednesday: *intensity uh— intensifies* I do not forgive myself.

Enid: B-But mmph!

The werewolf’s protests are silenced by a searing kiss. When Wednesday breaks their embrace, her expression is one of adamant resolve.

Wednesday: Do not worry, mi sol. Yours will be the most exquisitely brutal of cudgels. I look forward to witnessing it in action upon my return.

Wednesday: *storms off*

Enid: 😦

Enid: Well crap.

[dokk-fukuro]

On Call. Pt.1

Characters: Dazai Osamu, Nakahara Chuuya Minors DNI

TW: clit play, lingerie, sexting, dirty talk, afab reader

۞₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪۞

Dazai uses phone sex as one of the ways to tease you but keep you from getting what you want. Oh, this bastard has a good tongue. With absolute calmness, he can maintain a frank conversation with you for a long time period.

“I decided to find out how the day is going with the conqueror of my heart,” Osamu coos, left alone in the agency. “Just remembering how you arch your back under me last night. And your moans... Just angelic singing to my ears, and you know me, I'm picky in my choice of music.”

He knows that you are a little embarrassed by his words, but even the thoughts in your head will not allow to stop. Instead, the young man will continue to tease you.

“I can't stop thinking about how beautiful you are when you're in seventh heaven. I’d be very happy to sit you on the table now, pull off your clothes and kiss your skin,” his voice becomes a little quieter, lowers by half an octave and takes on that very seductive husky that drives you crazy. “Get down on my knees in front of you and put my face to your pussy. I bet you already imagine it. Come on, bella, let me hear how wet you are.”

And you really obediently pull off your panties, spread your legs and run your fingers along your wet cunt, collecting moisture on it, hearing a satisfied humming from the other side. Dazai is glad to hear that you are so ready for him.

“I want you to wrap your legs around me while I sink my tongue inside.” You bite your lip, drawing circles around your clit, sometimes pressing on it. “Come on, love, let me hear your voice. Like our last night when I was so deep inside you.”

And you really can't hold back a moan. The bundle of nerves only becomes more sensitive, and every touch to it makes your body shiver a little. You put inside your fingers under his languid exhalation and start to move it. You squirm and shake, when all of a sudden...

“Oh, Belladonna, I have to go now, time waits for no one,” and Osamu leaves you alone with your arousal.

۞₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪۞

When it comes to slutty phone calls, it's not Nakahara that starts it, it's your antics. One day, deciding to tease him, you send him a photo in the fitting room. You are wearing only a set of underwear and an innocent signature “Do you think it suits me?”. What a naughty girl are you. Chuuya takes some time to come up with the most compelling reason why he should leave the meeting room.

“What the hell are you doing?” The red-haired esper hisses through gritted teeth. No, your body does not embarrass him, he is used to your unsurpassed beauty, but the last thing he wants is for someone else to see it. You just innocently coo that you wanted to know his opinion, because “he should pull this underwear off you.”

Whatever you say, Chuuya has problems with self-control. He doesn't need too much to get turned on.

“You wanted to know my opinion, right?” Nakahara smirks unkindly, and you can feel it on your skin. Chills and a herd of goosebumps literally run through your neck. “My opinion is this: my naughty girl wants me to fuck her so that she can barely stands. Choose, doll: we’ll fuck on the table, on the couch, on the bed or on the floor? For such a trick, you will have to try very hard so that I let you cum.”

When he is on edge, you can say exactly and for sure only one thing: Chuuya doesn’t throw words into the wind. And the understanding that he may well take you from the doorway as soon as he comes home makes you bring your legs together. You are already turned on by how aggressive the redhead is in his expressions. And from his heavy breathing, only two things can be stated: he is now alone with himself, and he is trying to calm down his boner in order to recoup on you upon his return.

"So what, doll? I can't hear your answer,” Chuuya almost growls, squeezing his hard cock through the fabric of his tight pants. “Or do you want me to push you against the wall while I thrust into you from behind? The sooner you answer, the better for you.”

Looks like you're really in big trouble.

[kyoteugly]

If not Buddie, why Buddie shaped? #2

Following my theory that season 7 and 8 are new seasons 1 and 2 on abc, where the writers revisits the big events from character’s pasts and retells them (you can read it here) I want to look closer at new episode 8x06 “Confessions”.

This is all fresh in my mind, I watched the episode like 4h ago, there is a chance I’ll miss something.

Like I said, I think we’re going to see at least 4 more big moments revisited (or rather the emotional state those events invoked) from previous seasons before Buddie goes canon. Kitchen scene, well, will and shooting arc. And one of those happened in this episode! But also so many other things! 

EDDIE:

Starting with Eddie in the confessional. I can’t help but see his fight club era here (call me bias, I love season 3 Eddie so much!). An attempt to find a healthy outlet to his emotions. He’s struggling and fighting with his inner demons, this time instead of rage it’s sadness and loneliness. 

And he is doing it with an outsider's help. Father Brian is like Lena Bosko. Why Lena and not Frank? I think Eddie would just shut on therapy at this point. He needs someone to talk to, someone with opinions and advice, caring enough to want to help but also not afraid to go straight to the point and call his bs - Lena and Father Brian did just that.

Ok. Time to revisit a big event from Eddie’s past - the well. ABC put the call with the little boy trapped in a pipe in episode promo as the red herring. The real purpose of this call was to remind us about the Eddie Begins episode. The important thing from Eddie Begins is that Eddie was alone in the dark pit - and in the end he saved himself. 

So the real connection between those two episodes is not in the call where 118 saves the little boy, but between Eddie coming out from underwater, drawing a deep breath and Eddie shaving a mustache, shedding his mask and dancing, breathing fully again.

sorry for the meme, I'm tired

It’s also interesting that the moment Eddie allowed himself to feel joy Buck knocked at his door.

BUCK:

This one is pretty straight forward. Like I said before, Tommy represents Abby - a transformative relationship - like Buck said himself. The fact that Tommy was engaged with Abby is a really beautiful way to further connect and close both relationships. What leads to the break up from Tommy’s side is also similar. Tommy knows he would fall deeply for Buck, and Abby didn’t come back because she knew she would lose herself in Buck. They were both protecting themselves.

And here is also a little parallel to Ali. Like her, Tommy offers Buck a proper and honest break up, showing maturity, understanding and clear reason why. And yes, Ali was also protecting herself, ending their relationship before they broke each other's hearts.

And one more thing from Buck’s side. The whole Abby thing throws him off. Maddie tells him it’s not a big thing, Josh tells him not to judge Tommy (honestly, Josh’s speech is amazing!) - this calms him down in the end, dating the same woman doesn’t feel awkward anymore. But the questions Josh is asking leave Buck confused. Taking the next step, moving in together - it’s like Buck is trying to prove he really feels those things Josh was talking about (or maybe even compensate for his “freak out”, confirm he’s fully into this relationship). And on some level Buck has those feelings, he cares about Tommy, but more than that, he simply feels he should be on the level Josh suggested and he wants this to work. It’s Buck’s impulsiveness coming to play, an action that causes reaction in a form of big gesture to confirm his feelings - a nod to his relationship with Taylor.

Fortunately Tommy explains those feelings to Buck (and to the audience) in a very kind way. 

Honestly, their relationship (the last two episodes especially) was handled beautifully, without unnecessary drama, without too much spotlight. It started with fireworks, naturally progressed and faded gently.

The cherry on top: Evan meant something more, something special for Tommy. Ending his goodbye with Buck means “we’re friends now”.

BUDDIE:

There are two things here I want to mention.

Ever since Gerrard separated Buck and Eddie this is the episode where we can see them working together as partners again. And this finally wraps up the divorce era.

The ending scene represents different scenes for each of them, ending different arcs.

For Buck the couch scene represents Abby’s comeback in season 3. He watched her ride off in the ambulance with her fiance (with Eddie solid by his side), and later he got closure from her.

For Eddie this scene represents him being embraced by the 118 after he dug himself out from the well. He’s connected again, no longer alone. 

And of course, the most obvious and sweetest thing - it’s the right couch (and they finally drink that beer).

Bonus MADNEY:

Couldn’t help but notice some revisits here.  Maddie’s postpartum depression is addressed very clearly, nothing to add here. During the pandemic Chimney stayed at Buck’s place, afraid to put pregnant Maddie in danger of catching the virus. Something happened on a call that changed his mind, made him overcome his fear and enjoy the future with his family. The same in this episode. But there is a little twist here and it involves brothers. In season 7 the new audience learned about Kevin. Guess who wasn’t yet introduced (and also took care of Maddie during the pandemic)... yes, I believe this season we will see Albert again. 

That’s it for now. Let me know if you want more posts like this. Feel free to contact me if you want some clarification or just to talk.

Tagging some people who may be interested (if you want me to remove you from this post let me know): @buddiebeginz @stagefoureddiediaz @lemotmo @inell

[blood-and-pizza]

Notable Details from the original "Into The Pit" story (PART 1)

Upon the mill's closure, Oswald's dad works part-time at the deli counter in a store called the Snack Space (a 7-11 equivalent, basically), which requires a red vest as their uniform. Oswald is embarrassed by the fact his dad is wearing the vest as he drops him off at school. Just a neat bit of world-building.

Oswald has a best friend named Ben who moved into the next town over.

Oswald's bullies, including Dylan Cooper, call him "Oswald the Ocelot" after a cartoon character they saw as pre-schoolers, a big pink ocelot named Oswald. Again, more world-building.

Oswald is described as having freckles and a cowlick in the original story.

Oswald has no modern electronics in his home, save for one laptop he shares with his family. His phone is an outdated model he's embarrassed by.

Oswald's teacher, Mrs. Meecham, puts on a movie for her class on the last day of school, which is described as "about a farm with talking animals", "too babyish for a roomful of fifth graders". I'm guessing they might have been watching the animated adaptation of Charlotte's Web... or it could be wishful thinking on my part, since I love that movie.

Oswald has been drawing mechanical animals ("bears, bunnies, and birds") for reasons even he doesn't know, other than lack of anything better to do when he's bored.

Oswald's mom works at the hospital from 12PM to 12AM... yikes.

Oswald's dad can't cook to save his life. If it can't be boiled in water or heated in a microwave, he has to buy his meals... how relatable.

Blue-box macaroni and cheese exists in FNAF, meaning Kraft and its products likely exist, too. Just thought that was funny for some reason.

Oswald's dad squirts ketchup into his mac and cheese. I just think knowing he's the kind of dad who does that is really funny... kinda reminds me of my stepdad's love of ketchup, to be honest.

Other pizzerias that once existed in Oswald's town were Gino's Pizza and Marco's Pizza, both of which closed not long after the mill closed. Both Gino's and Marco's are described as good restaurants, while the food at Jeff's Pizza is described as "decent".

Oswald is into B-grade Japanese horror films, including kaiju movies like Zendrelix vs. Mechazendrelix. Zendrelix is apparently FNAF's answer to Godzilla, making Mechazendrelix an equivalent to Mechagodzilla. They're described like this: "... Zendrelix just looked like a giant dragon thing, but Mechazendrelix reminded him [Oswald] of the mechanical animals he drew when he stripped them of their fur." Zendrelix is also described as being portrayed by "a guy in a rubber suit", solidifying the connection between him and Godzilla.

Oswald and his dad both really love bacon. I just thought that was cute.

When Oswald visits the library, a place he finds "actually kinda fun", he shows interest in a science fiction book from a series, as well as a manga he liked. Based, IMHO.

The library Oswald visits frequently allows homeless people to use their computers and other resources. WE NEED LIBRARIES AND THIS IS EXACTLY ONE REASON WHY!

Oswald's mom, being a nurse, is a bit of a germaphobe and won't let Oswald play in places she considers dirty. A ball pit would be considered one such place.

The pizza Jeff serves comes in huge slices too big for the paper plates they're served on, and very greasy. As someone who was born in NYC and used to eat greasy New York pizza... I think I would have liked eating at Jeff's. Maybe.

Oswald reads a library book while visiting Jeff's Pizza, about "a world where kids with secret powers went to a special school to learn how to fight evil". I wonder how many books that describes...

Oswald plays an online fantasy game at the library that's free to play, but Oswald gets to a point where he can't progress without money. I wonder what game it could have been...

Oswald's dad and mom used to date in high school, often frequenting a roller rink, and are great skaters as a result. Oswald himself can't skate and needs his parents to hold him up.

Oswald's dad only ever buys vanilla ice cream.

There's a video rental service Oswald's family uses called Red Box, but I don't know if it's meant to be the same as the actual existing Redbox. Maybe it is?

Oswald's mom is very good at playing Clue... oh, and Clue exists in the FNAF universe.

Oswald's dad prefers practical effects over CGI in movies. Oswald is the exact opposite.

Oswald's dad is a fan of country music. Oswald... is not.

[distant--shadow]

The witch and the widow chapters 1-4 author’s notes

Ok, so first off I feel I gotta preface this by saying I am absolutely not a history buff. Kinda the opposite of one really. I was one of less than 10% of the kids in my year of 300 or so that didn’t take history at GCSEs, mostly caus a subject taught and based around names and dates etc is the definition of something not suited for my type of brain, also I hugely lost interest in it caus we moved past the fun trebuchet eras and all that real fast and it became of slog of me falling asleep in lessons caus I had a teacher whose method was putting on movies and shutting the blinds (I’d always fall asleep and he was later jailed for being a p*edophile, so that’s a thing.) Anyway, all that to say I’m not good at this shit, but as ive gotten older I have taken a bigger interest in queer history in particular, and that often if not always links into other areas such as fashion, women’s rights, religion,the arts, class, and race etc. (I’m still not good at names and dates though!)

They are outfitted and arsenalled - the stones of the wall - in a manner to rival any army; tapestries of red and gold perhaps once brandished on battlefield as banners promenading around death now retired and indoor-still-air-still as taxidermy giving colour between all of the shades of metal, burnished and polished and in some cases rusting, some still purposefully left blood-stained, swords and pikes and maces arranged in wallpaper patterns as though flowers or fans, sword-sheath beams spreading from chest-plate armour suns.

Let’s start with something easy and recent. The Baron’s armoury was inspired by a few castles I’ve visited, these rooms are always so bizarre to me. I don’t know if this is at all of the time/how they were decorated or a more recent thing, but either way it’s pretty wild but I do love the visual and metaphor of it. In this one castle I found out from talking about the carpentry to an attendant that the decorative ceiling work around the chandelier above the dining room table actually hid a trapdoor - and there was other hidden doorways for passages and to secret rooms in this castle, that’s not that unusual - but this particular trapdoor was to allow for the chandeliers to be switched out. Why? Caus they had them in multiple colours of glass, and the lady of the castle liked the chandelier to co-ordinate with her dress if they were having guests round. Aint that such a flex? Definitely some food for future thought.

Aight. Clothing. So anyone that chats fic/au to me or is in my server has probably heard me yell to go watch Kaz Rowe’s videos many times. As I’ve said this fic aint meant to be historically accurate but it does kinda straddle histories, one of which being our own; so women wearing trousers and the like at this time would still be a crime, and draw a lot of attention . Imogen in men’s clothing genuinely isn’t meant to be much of a gender thing but a thing of practicality, and she has mostly lived in the countryside or in the outskirts, so she does not get into the trouble she would should she go into the towns and cities (another reason to keep away past the potential noise, but this Imogen will happily don a dress or skirts if she needs to, she’s just usually working – and maybe it’s a bonus that dressing as a man acts as a sort of flagging for any women who might be interested lol.)

I guess here I should mention how I think this version of Imogen's powers and how they’ve manifested (along with everyone else being unaware of them) will have somewhat changed her disposition and personality, it is a lot more aligned with later campaign Imogen who has more confidence and empowerment, she hasn’t been ostracised for her abilities or particularly bombarded by them, think more like when she has her circlet on, she chooses to listen in (mostly), although of course she has still heard many terrible things (and her life has still been pretty brutal but that’s to be written still).

(it’ll be really fun in this regard getting to explore and explain this version of Laudna, but early days for giving much away on that yet!)

Her skirts are full and structured and plumed by many layers of petticoats that hide the movement of her feet across the wildflower lawn, causing her to appear to be drifting like the bees do from petal to petal, pollen dusting her pleats though ghostly her skin in contrast to the fine fabrics that she dresses for the part, black in mourning, still, bodice tight and sleeve leg of mutton, an ornate decorative layer of black lace laying over each yard of textured textile like spider webs on porcelain patterns, her husband's tableware collecting dust in the kitchen cupboard.

real impractical for how tending towards practical the Lady dares to be, hands on, too busy for errant hairs in piano key ivory and ebony windswept and loose from the high bun she pins in place with a cameo broach, a memento mori engraved in silver and inlayed with ruby eyes and tied with red ribbons. Her skin also proudly displays the age and perhaps trauma that her hair does, lines from laughter and furrowed brows and the feet of the crows that cry from the top of the chimney pots

A little note as to say that Laudna’s appearance is heavily influenced by Victorian mourning wear, with some of the clothes cuts altered to be a little bit more regency and earlier in places. (her  attire is a little outdated, further suggesting her distancing from society and fashion)

A couple of days ago Imogen happened upon a bird with an injured wing, crying helplessly and rolling in circles, feathers taking flight away from the bird that could not, settling around it as it panicked itself bald-

The bird could not live without the use of its wing, and it didn’t, whether that was by Prosciutto or a fox, only its feathers were left in a pile.

Imogen had gathered them into an empty burlap sack; taken them to one of the maids downstairs to clean, repurpose them for filling pillows.

Here’s a silly little easter egg for my p(r)oof reader. Last time he visited we was enjoying a cinnamon roll from the local bakery by the city river (as you do) and a cyclist hit a seagull. It was real distressing, the seagull was distressed too. A handfull of middle aged women stood around it not wanting or knowing how to intervene as its wing was twisted at a crazy angle and it flapped about in a pile of its own feathers, there’s still bird flu about so it is wise to not touch wild birds, and as bleak as it is I was saying to freshy that a wild bird who’s wings broken like that is gonna die, and probably slowly and painfully. Some man came along and lifted up the bird to take the bird off the path and laid it to rest behind an old bridge building, I think he must have mercy killed it too as the bird was already dead when we walked past 10 or so minutes later after finishing our cinnamon roll and giving a cautious glance. So there’s a nice happy memory thrown in there for him.

what appears to be driftwood breaches the surface, then another point, then another

the water belches

Ceviche scares, whinnying as he rears onto his back legs, the Lady leaning forward and clinging to his harness. Imogen stands in her stirrups, leaning across the gap over to the black stallion, grasping his reins and cooing

“All good, boy, all good-”

What had appeared to be driftwood lands on the surface with a slap, looking like the carcass of an old boat left to rot in the muddy bed of a dock, timber ribcaged and leathered skin cladding.

A femur surfaces, followed by a jaw.

Second easter egg for the p(r)oof is a quick one (I’m such a considerate writer, I know.) On a train ride to a loch we went to for a day out there is a stop that is on another lake/body of water, and right by the train tracks (which are at water height) there are 4 or 5 old ships stuck in the mud, most of them just the frames/structures of the old boats, mostly wood and some bits of metal, but they’re pretty big boats! It really looks like whale carcasses. I’ve always wanted to get of there and check it out, and we were gonna stop by on the way back but my health being what it is was giving me some grief that day so we missed 2 trains and then soon the daylight, so hopefully next time buddy.

There’s alotta meat and gore talk and Imogen being a vegetarian without the label for such is just another way of me playing round with all of her complex feelings about what the Lady might be doing, her feelings towards Angharad butchering and nourishing the women with these communal stews and all of that. I’ve been vegetarian myself for 20 years now, and it was all triggered by an existential crisis in my mid teens (still a huge fan of leather and blood though) – Imogen greatly cares about animals, struggles with the thought of anything being slaughtered, she is in some ways more empathetic than most because she knows those she does on so much more of a personal level, really feels how someone is reacting to a situation they are in, but also because of this she knows humans are often corrupt and vile and she is spared such thoughts from animals, only knows their instincts and the love and comfort and service they bring – and yet she will obsess over the Lady’s (potential) tooling on that saddlework leather that’s really fucking brutal if she thinks about it one way and beautiful if she thinks about it another hmmm what if everything’s not black and white.

Oh, and the stew is a homage to @picturesofthegoneworlds’ pre-campaign fic Intertwined which I am lucky enough to co-parent and her writing is hugely influential on mine.

There’s a few things being bread crumb trailed here that I can’t explain in the author notes yet, but I’m looking forward to when I can. One small detail I will give away is just a silly thing about the chapter headings. They are something of significance from within the chapter, given in its ‘proper’ name – maybe someone gets access to some books to do research at some point?

anyways, thanks @astoriacolumnstaircase for enabling me. will do another post like this for future chapters if folks find it interesting.

[ash5monster01]

Learning to Love Part 3

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x FemReader!PlusSize

Warnings: 18+, langauge, angst, fluff, mentions of bullying, body image issues, fat shaming, fake relationship, eventual smut, minor enemies to lovers trope.

Summary: It's not uncommon for you to be shamed for your size, it is however uncommon to be told that no one would ever date you because of it. Rafe on the other hand is used to being called a jerk, that is until he is accused of seeing people for only what's on the surface. It's purely coicidental you two meet right after these accusations are thrown your way. So even though you two don't know each other, and probably never would've looked the others way before this, now you're both going to prove a point. It's simple really, prove others wrong and don't fall in love. Easier said than done.

word count: 3.9k

Part 2 ←→ Part 4

Masterlist

When Rafe said work event the last thing you had pictured was this. You should’ve considering the dress he had sent over to your apartment. Yet now here you were, standing in a cocktail dress a vibrant cherry red. It dipped deep down into your chest and the skirt flowed out from the waist which was perfect for hiding your stomach. It was something you would’ve picked for yourself and somehow Rafe had done just that. Now he walked into the hotels grand ballroom, you latched onto his arm, while he wore another suit looking handsome as ever, and smiling at everyone he passed. Either he didn’t notice the looks they gave both of you or he was ignoring them. You were to nervous to care.

"Breath" his voice invading your space makes you jump slightly and you look up to him and his permanent smirk. Rafe admires this new side of you, one that isn't in a bathing suit or jeans and T-shirt. Your makeup is done to perfection, eyes sparkling up into his own, and the dress you wore accentuated how perfect all of you was. Rafe wished you could see that, he wished you didn't think he thought less of you. Yet how could you believe any different when he was dating you to prove he could date unattractive women. He's lucky you hadn't slapped him but when he considers the reasons why you didn't he realizes that is what you believe. That you are unworthy of a guy like him. He wished you knew he was nothing special.

"I'll breath once I have a drink" you tell him, clutching tightly to his arm. His warm laugh escapes past his lips and unexpected to you he leans down and presses a sweet kiss to your forehead. With a face now as red as your dress you desperatley need that drink more than before.

"Let's hit the bar sweetheart" he tells you and you don't disagree as he leads you that way, arm slipping free of your own and snaking around your waist. You hate that getting closer to him comforts you so you focus on your destination and prepare the get tipsy enough to make it through the night. You allow Rafe to order your drinks as you nervously scan across the crowd of many good looking and professional people.

"Listen, I know this is a lot" Rafe says as he places your drink in your line of sight, stopping your anxious watching. His sentence hangs like you know there is more coming so you take a quick gulp and turn to face him. "But you're comfortable with me, that's what this whole week as been about. So just pretend it's one of those nights, you and me, no one else"

"Sounds easy enough" you tell him and Rafe smiles, stepping more into your personal space and pushing your curled hair behind your ear, the hair Mila had spent an hour doing while gushing about the date you had planned.

"It is, we don't care about what these people think" he tells you and you chuckle and sip from your drink.

"Isn't that the whole point?" and your words sting because your right. Hadn't Rafe done all of this because he cared about what these people think? You don't miss the sad look on his face, the way his eyebrows draw together.

"Not anymore" he says and you aren't entirely sure what he means by that, but based on the way he swirls his straw in his drink you know there is so much more going on behind the eyes of the beautiful boy in front of you. "My sister doesn't talk to me anymore"

"What?" this sentence from Rafe comes out of no where and you look to him to see pain for the first time running through his features.

"My sister Sarah. When we were young we were close but when we got older I pushed her away. I hated her because I knew she was my Dad's favorite. I fought so hard to get the same treatment he gave her and in the middle of it all I ended up losing my sister. Now my Dad is gone and the damage between me and her is impossible to repair. So I don't want to spend the rest of my life pleasing others while pushing people away. So yes we're here to make a point but it has everything to do with me and nothing to do with you" this is the most information about Rafe's personal life you had ever gotten. Your heart yearns for him in a way different than it has all week. It's the moment you realize your feelings for him were moving from silly little crush to something real. Without responding you step forward and wrap your arms around his waist. Rafe accepts the hug, squeezing you just as close.

"I bet you can fix it, it may take time but the good thing about life is you always have room to heal" Rafe loves your optimism and when you pull away it's him who takes you by surprise by leaning down and pecking a kiss to your lips. As your brain tries to process what exactly just happened a man approaches the both of you.

"Rafe, happy to see you here" the smirk on this mans face is different from the one Rafe wears. This one is sly, like he knows something you don't and it makes you hate it.

“You too Levi, hey this is Y/N” Rafe says as he gives him a firm handshake and you quickly put a wide smile on your face, looking to the boy now named Levi.

“Y/N huh, where’d you find this loser?” he nods his head towards Rafe, taking your hand into his own and giving it a firm shake. His actions seem kind, the gesture and teasing joke, but you can see it in his eyes. He’s wondering why the hell Rafe would walk in here with a girl like you.

“My bar, in his defense he didn’t quite know it was mine until after we hit it off” you come back quickly, matching his practiced performance because the last thing you were going to do today was let a little man with a big complex undermine you.

“Your bar, interesting. Where’s that?” he asks, his arms crossing over his chest and you can see the amusement in his eyes. How he already thinks less of you.

“He just wants to know so he can add another place to the list of bars he can drink at during his lunch break” Rafe swoops in, arm wrapping around your waist and your thankful he’s standing on your side of enemy lines.

“He says that like he doesn’t come with me” Levi says more towards you than him and you laugh even though you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“Well I’m sure you’ve heard of my place, Skull Dive” something flashes behind Levi’s eyes. More than likely recognition.

“We go there for lunch often, great food, cute waitresses” Levi says the last part more directed towards Rafe and you now realize Levi was one of the men with Rafe that called Callie unattractive. Asshole.

“I’m happy to hear it” you tell him even though you’re ready to punch him and based on the way you’ve tensed against Rafe he knows it too.

“We’re going to find a table, nice talking with you Levi” Rafe butts in before his idiotic friend can add anymore and Levi pretends to be disappointed as you grab your drinks and walk away.

“Enjoying yourself yet?” Rafe asks with a teasing tone and you roll your eyes, sipping the rest of your drink back in one gulp.

“A few more of these and a little less assholes and I will be” you grin at him and he smiles, giving your waist a squeeze as you approach a table. Rafe pulls out your chair and kisses your cheek like the gentleman he is before grabbing your glass and excusing himself to get more drinks. You take this time to scan the room around you, now a little less intimidated knowing most of the poeple here were just like Levi. Too cocky for their own good and missing out on the true point of life, to just enjoy it, not be the best.

"You're new" the voice startles you as a blonde girl slides into the chair across from you. She is one of the prettiest girls you've ever actually seen in real life. Her hair flows down her whole back, blue eyes so bright you're pretty sure they're peircing straight through you, and she's so small she must wear a size 0. Hence why she's in the most form fitting royal blue mermaid dress you've ever seen. Not a roll is visible on her and suddenly you're more self consious than you were before. Yet she smiles at you with the firendliest smile you've seen all night so you pull yourself together.

"Yeah, I guess I am" you smile at her even though you can't help but realize she is the kind of girl Rafe should really be here with.

"It's so nice having a fresh face around here, I'm AJ. I work in marketing and these events are such a drag" she's bubbly, energetic, and kind. She has it all, you wonder what kind of good she has done in her past lives to have it all in this one.

"I'm Y/N, I'm here with my date-" but you're cut short when Rafe scoots the chair out beside you and sets the fresh drink in front of you. AJ's eyes widen only slightly before shooting a wide smile at him.

"Mr. Cameron, quite the date you have Y/N" there is a weight to her words that you wish you knew what it meant.

"AJ we've talked about this" Rafe says with familiarity and jealousy burns in your stomach at the sight of them. So picture perfect. Movie star perfect.

"What ever do you mean Mr. Cameron?" she says in a teasing and flirty tone, she leans foreward, chin resting on her hand. Rafe recognizes the flirting and does what any good boyfriend, fake boyfriend would do.

"AJ here has known me since highschool and has now taken to referring to me as Mr. Cameron instead of Rafe. It drives me nuts" he tells you, hand reaching to squeeze your own, and you're comforted only slightly but entirely aware there is a history there.

"He's a CEO of a company now Y/N, he should wear the title proudly" and the way Rafe stiffens beside you tells you everything you need to know about how he feels on this subject.

"I'm sure he does, but as a boss myself it is hard to hear people who were once your peers refer to you as some heirachy. Makes you feel more normal to keep things more on a first name basis" you say, squeezing Rafe's hand back and he smiles wide like in just a single moment you've understood entirely how he felt about this.

"Rafe was the king of our class, nothing new to him" she teases but you know he doesn't see it that way, that this was a part of the same past he was trying to move on from.

"And AJ was the wild and free one" he shoots back and she just grins, eyes sparkling with a lifetime you had never dared to live before. You played things safe because risk would just get you walked all over.

"I still am Rafe, still am" she says as she pushes herself to stand again and you try not to admire how perfect she is, knowing all the men looked on for her tiny waist and large chest.

"Sounds like something your boss shouldn't know about" he teases but there's a sharp edge to his voice, one that say he doesn't want her messing around here anymore.

"Well it was nice meeting you Y/N, goodluck with this one" and before you can return the pleasantries she has turned and gone with a sway of her hips, shiny white teeth flashing smiles at everyone she passes. When she's a safe enough distance away you sneak a glance at the boy beside you just to see he is already staring back with a soft smile.

"I'm pretty sure you're the only person here that I like right now" he says and you can't help the blush that flushes your cheeks. So far you both had been fighting against people who more than likely would never understand you both, you were an alliance.

"You sure? AJ here seemed to know you pretty well. I'd almost say it seems like you've dated before" it was teasing but also curiosity, a need to know if Rafe had gone from a supermodel girl to you.

"We did, a long time ago" that is the answer you're looking for but regret it almost instantly considering the way it sears your heart in two.

"And it didn't work out. She seemed nice enough, just a bit ditzy" you say and he shrugs, tapping his ring against the whiskey glass in his hand.

"We didn't really connect we mostly just-" but his words hang in the air and you realize how that sentence was supposed to end. Slept together. Two good looking people with mutual attraction, pleasuring the other. No strings attached, simple good fun, something you had never dared to do. Anyone you had ever revealed yourself to had to fight to earn your trust and even then it depends on if they were patient enough to wait. You figured it was something you'd never be comfortable with. "Look it doesn't matter, she doesn't matter"

"Yeah, we're just here to have fun" you say and he nods, eyes shining into your own.

"Exactly" he says picking up his glass and clinking it against your own, and he smiles before you both dump back the rest of your drinks. This one was for fake dating and getting drunk enugh to pretend that you ever have a chance with someone like Rafe because if he had slept with a girl like AJ he would never downgrade to you. That was something you'd just have to learn to be okay with but until then, at least you could get drunk.

Which is exactly what you end up doing. By the end of the night you've had more drinks than you can count and Rafe being ever the gentlemen that he was he did too. Actually went drink for drink with you which was surprising considering owning a bar had made you quite good at holding your liqour. It made you wonder what kind of expeirience he had with it to be able to keep up with you. Majority of the people had filed out, only a few stragglers and the two of you giggling at each other even though neither of you were saying anything really funny.

"We can't drive home" Rafe giggles beside you and you agree, noting how there is twice as many candles on the table then there was before. You hadn't been this drunk in a while.

"Can we go swimming?" your question causes him to snort in laughter but he realizes fairly quickly that you're serious. You hands are pulling at the straps of your dress like its stuffy in here and the movement causes his eyes to dip down the deep cut of your dress, cleavage on perfect display, and suddenly he was so very thirsty. He needed something before he was smothering his face in the softness of your chest.

"You can't swim here unless you have a room" he tells you, arms wrapping around your chair and pulling you close to him. With your legs now touching you can't help but thnk about the warmth radiating from him and how strong he was for pulling you close.

"Sounds like that solves both of our problems" you say and he knows it isn't meant to come out suggestive but in a way you did just suggest getting a hotel room with him.

"You want to get a hotel room with me?" he asks, eyebrows raised and you smile innocently at him.

"Sure" you giggle and he knows you don't hear any meaning behind these words, that you're just as drunk as him. He wishes sober that you would agree to get a hotel room with him, that you would believe it was possible to do so with him. He knows that you don't think he's attracted to you but he was the moment you sat down next to him and after getting to know you all week he was even more. He had been so upset with himself over knowing he had spent his whole life dating girls he thought he was supposed to be attracted to when after all looks had nothing to do with it. You were just as beautiful as the next person, just as beautiful as AJ, and he wished more than anything that he could take you up to that hotel room and show you that for real. Show you just how perfect all of you were to him.

"Then let's do it" he tells you while standing, helping pull you to your feet. You both laugh like children, stumbling to leave the ballroom and find the front desk. The guy standing behind doesn't seem surprised to see you two, probably the both of you not being the first couple to buy a hotel room that night. You picutred the various affairs that could've went down tonight but you were just happy to be here with Rafe.

"Floor 12 room 1,203" the guy tells you both, handing over the key card that would now magically open the doors to any room in this hotel you wanted, well except for the other rooms. Rafe grins at you while he thanks the man before leading you to the elevator. Waving the key the door opens and he helps you inside before pushing the button to the roof.

"I thought he said the twelth floor?" you question and Rafe smiles before pointing to the words beside the roof button. Pool & Rooftop Bar. You start to excitedly bounce beside him and he can only laugh as he hugs you close to him.

When the doors open you’re met with the cool night air and even better an abandoned rooftop. It seems the bar had been closed to accommodate the event you were both just at. How lucky. The aquamarine pool glows in the dark and the steam swirls above it and into the night air. You groan out loud and the sound has Rafe trying to calm himself down. You break free of his grip and walk slowly towards the pool. He watches as you slip off your shoes and reach towards the back of your dress. His mouth goes agape when he realizes you’re removing your bra and sliding it out from underneath the red fabric that clings to your body.

“Wet bras are the worst” you pout, dropping it beside your shoes. Rafe can’t utter a word as you gracefully dive in the pool, only a blur of red under the surface before popping back up and smiling wide at him. “Come on handsome, it feels great”

“You’re gonna kill me” you’re too drunk to know what he means but you watch him remove his suit jacket and shoes all before running his hands down the buttons of his shirt. Your mouth dries when he reaches for the button on his pants, them falling around his ankles and leaving him in tight black boxers.

“Jump” you call out and Rafe chuckles before jogging towards the edge and leaping high into the air. He cannonballs beside you and you laugh loudly as he pops up and shakes his head to rid himself of some water.

“How big was my splash?” he acts like a little boy and you can only smile as you tread towards him.

“Huge, I think it went over the edge of the building” you tell him, eyes glancing towards the infinity edge of the pool that looked over the skyline of a town you and Rafe both lived in for so long not knowing each other.

“Good, that’s what I was going for” he says as he swims towards you. Your hair is slicked back from the water and he realizes for the first time he is seeing all of your face. You’re even more beautiful than he thought.

“I’ve always loved the water” you say, head tipping back to look at the stars. Rafe stares at the expanse of your throat, imagining what kind of noises you’d make if he pressed his lips to it.

“Why’s that?” he asks and you sigh, laying down to float on your back. You’re silent so long he expects you not to answer but then finally you speak.

“When I was young I loved the water just for fun but when I was a bit older I loved it because it was the only time I could feel as feather light as the others girls. In the water you defy gravity and considering most days I wanted to float away from the world, water was the next best thing” Rafe knows you’d have never said this to him sober, this actually being the first time you had openly discussed your size with him. His heart yearns for you, knowing the pain that must come along with not fitting the normalized beauty standard. So he doesn’t respond and instead grabs your arm and floats you towards him.

Lifting your head you look at him to see a different look in his eyes than you ever have before. You allow him to move you anyway, his hands setting your own on his shoulders before pulling your waist towards his own. Your breath hitches when his hand slips down your thigh and lifts it to wrap around his waist. In the water there’s no weight at all so you wrap your other leg around his waist and pull him flush to you. His hands settle on your ass and your mind is screaming at you to not take this to heart. Yet based on the heat that pools at the bottom of your stomach you know this isn’t the case because you have your legs wrapped around a man like Rafe Cameron.

“I’ll float with you” it’s probably the sweetest thing someone has ever said to you and for the first time since Rafe kissed you on the beach you press a kiss on his lips, prepared to blame it on your drunkenness but let him know how much it means to you.

“Was that real or fake?” he asks when you pull away, your head tucking beside his own as you hug him tight.

“Real but only because that was the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me” you whisper and your response is enough for him to press his lips to your neck, hot breath fanning over the dewey skin, and raising goodbumps. You breathe heavily into his ear and fight everything in your power to not grind into him but you know he feels it too. You also know he wouldn’t never be in this position with you sober so you soak it in and already prepare for the heartbreak of having to let it go.

For now, you’ll just float.

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[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Blue and Fire Engine Red, Pt 6 (smexy times ahead)

To Kara’s surprise, steak dinner happens at Lena’s apartment. From how little Lena has shared so far, she’d expected to wait weeks or months to see where Lena lives. It’s not until she arrives that Kara realizes exactly why Lena is so willing to let Kara into her inner sanctum. 

It’s completely void of personality.

Well, Kara allows, it could be that a lack of personality could be a personality in itself. And there are photos, but they all feature Lena and her crew. All smiling– all recent. Nothing to suggest Lena had a life before National City. She spies a punching bag in one corner, but the rest of the furniture is worn and basic, suggesting the place had come pre-furnished by a landlord who didn’t particularly care about aesthetics. It’s spartan and plain– forthright in a way that actually fits Lena. Still…

Kara wishes the space could have given her a better look at Lena’s inner life. 

The kitchen, at least, is functional enough. Enough that Lena is able to season and sear her steaks to perfection, with some fresh asparagus sauteeing on a side burner. And she does it all with a smile, chatting with Kara as well as she had on the way home. A capable multitasker, Kara notes, though it’s less than surprising. 

Lena seems incapable of being incapable at anything. 

The meal is served up on non-descript plates– at least they’re ceramic and not paper, and Lena does lower the overhead lights to set the mood. Kara moans when the first bite of steak hits her tongue. Moist and savory and perfectly seasoned, it puts anything she herself could have made to shame. The asparagus is also perfectly softened without being mushy, retaining enough of its texture to allow for a bit of a crunch at the center. 

“Are you sure the Army didn’t put you on the chow line? This is delicious!” Kara groans. 

Lena smirks, taking a sip of her wine. “You think ‘chow’ tastes like this?” An arch eyebrow dispels that notion. “Nah. Not so much.”

“Well, wherever it comes from, color me amazed and impressed.”

Kara takes another large–too large– bite, and has to spend several quiet moments chewing her way through it. When she swallows– still too large– she tilts her head. 

“Is there anything you’re not good at?”

Lena’s eyes warm with mirth, but takes a moment to consider.

“Jumping rope.” Lena shrugs. “I hate it. Can’t stand it.”

“But you can do it?”

Lena waves away the answer. 

“Then it doesn’t count!” 

Lena laughs. “Alright, alright… um. Okay. I can’t draw to save my life.”

It’s a surprisingly candid answer. “Really?”

Lena nods. “Any required art classes were passed on charm alone.”

Kara grins. Lena eyes her suspiciously. 

“What?” 

For a moment, they play a game of silent chicken as Kara waits for Lena to say the words, and Lean waits for Kara to confess what she already suspects. Finally, Lena caves.

“You’re an artist, aren’t you.”

Kara laughs, tickled by the suspicion at odds with the twinkle in Lena’s eye. “Maybe…” she draws out, unable to help the taunt. She relents when Lena’s eyebrow climbs dangerously close to her hairline. “Okay, fine. Yeah. I am. Kind of. At least, I was.”

“You were?” 

“Not much opportunity to flex my brush skills on a cop’s schedule,” she deflects, unwilling to dull the mood with the somber reality. If Lena suspects the deeper reason, she gives no indication. 

Instead, she tilts her head. “Well, I’d like to see some of your work, sometime.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Lena confirms. “If you’re willing to share, of course. No pressure.” She takes another sip of her wine. “I just know that anything you do would be amazing.”

Lena’s voice is low and throaty, and Kara senses the shift to a mood far more intimate than playful banter. “In that case, you would be right,” Kara confirms, leaning forward across the table. “Play your cards right, and I’ll prove it to you. Again.”

“Uh uh,” Lena returns, leaning to meet Kara midway across the table. She pecks a tantalizing kiss to Kara’s lips. “Tonight is my turn to go first.”

“Oooh,” Kara purrs. “I don’t mind the sound of that.”

She plays a light drumroll on Lena’s ass as she clears the dishes, which only receive a quick rinse before being forgotten in the sink. Lena’s attention turns to Kara, who feels the weight of her focus like a planar shift. The rest of the world ceases to exist, narrowing to the two of them alone.

They haven’t even reached the threshold of Lena’s bedroom before warm lips caress the skin of her neck. Her flesh prickles with goosebumps, a frisson of desire coursing through her. She wants this, and the flutter of nerves in her belly only heightens her anticipation. She’s never wanted anything– or anyone– as much as she wants this, wants Lena. She doesn’t know what Lena has in store for her, and doesn’t quite know how her body will react to her ministrations. If her current arousal is anything to go by, Kara suspects she might not survive what’s to come. And she’s perfectly fine with that.

Lena guides her with gentle hands to sit on the edge of the bed. For a moment, Kara thinks she’ll sit on her lap, like the last time on her couch. But instead, Lena lays her back, leaning over her with a muscled arm holding her up.

“Tell me what you want,” Lena murmurs between slow languid kisses. Kara whimpers into her mouth, making Lena’s lips curl in a smile against hers. “That’s not an answer, love.”

For a moment, Kara struggles to think, but Lena doesn’t relent in her ministrations. It takes long minutes of nearly losing herself in the sensations before she manages to conjure her wish.

“Let’s go slow.” she murmurs.

Lena pauses immediately, but Kara keeps her from pulling away by cupping her cheek. Lena gazes into her eyes, studying her to understand the meaning behind her words. Then, slowly, a low fire sparks deep in her gaze.

“How slow, exactly,” she asks, low and silky.

Kara lifts her chin to kiss her. “As slow as possible.”

Nodding her understanding, Lena runs a velvet touch up under Kara’s shirt; slow enough to count each and every rib. “And where would you like to start?”

Breath hitching when Lena hits a sensitive spot just under Kara’s breast, Kara tries to blink her way to at least partial coherency. 

“Do you have a vibrator?” she gasps.

Lena nods, nuzzling Kara’s ear. “Excellent idea, darling.”

Finally, Kara releases herself to the experience. Lena takes her time with her, going deliciously slow as she raises Kara’s shirt by inches, kissing every exposed bit skin on her way. Not just kissing. Licking, nibbling, suckling. She lingers on Kara’s breasts, brushing her thumbs over pebbled nipples as she diverts back to Kara’s lips. 

Slowly but surely, Kara’s skin heats with pleasure. But when her breath starts to quicken, Lena draws herself away. Without Lena’s body heat against her, chill air washes over her, making her groan. She squeezes her eyes shut in frustration.

“Now, now,” Lena tsks. “I want you to watch.”

Kara’s eyes fly open, and she props herself up on her elbows to watch as Lena unbuttons the fly of her jeans. Her fingers dip beneath her waistband, and Kara’s breath goes ragged in her chest. But just as smoothly as they slide under, they slip back out, and Lena shimmies out of her pants. 

She kicks them aside as soon as she steps out of them, and Kara is left to ogle smooth, tones legs. Lena may not match Kara for height, but her legs are long and packed with muscle. Kara’s mouth goes dry.

“Jesus fucking christ,” Kara mutters. 

Lena saunters closer, a satisfied smirk on her face. “Well, hopefully he won’t be the one fucking tonight.” 

She tilts Kara’s chin up. Kara lets her mouth gape, just enough for Lena to see the invitation and take it. Her tongue slides over Kara’s, then curls languorously up and along the roof of Kara’s mouth. She sucks against Kara’s upper lip as she withdraws, and Kara lists after her when she sits back on Kara’s knees. 

“Do you want to see more?” Lena croons.

Kara swallows thickly. “All of it,” she croaks. “I want to see all of you.”

Lena smiles, pleased with her response. She grips the hem of her shirt with her fingertips, and slowly begins to pull it up, up, up over her abdomen, her breasts, and finally her head. Dark hair flows through the neck opening, swishing around Lena’s bare shoulders. When Lena’s fingers move to her bra, all higher function vacates Kara’s brain. The little strip tease that follows sends bolts of arousal down through Kara’s core, pooling between her legs. Soon, only Lena’s underwear remains.

When Lena twists to deposit her bra on the pile with the rest of her abandoned clothing, Kara catches sight of a dark smudge on Lena’s ribs, but it flashes out of sight and out of mind when Lena turns her attention back to her. 

Thankfully, Lena makes quicker work of Kara’s own pants. Soon Kara is completely and enthusiastically nude, and Kara notes that Lena makes no mention of how wet she is. Kara’s glad for it– she suspects it will be her default state whenever Lena’s eyes take on this sort of glint. 

She jumps when the first rumble of the vibrator tickles the inside of her thigh. She inhales through her teeth, and is answered by a palm pressing flatly against her labia and clit. 

“Easy,” Lena coaxes. Her lips still smirk though. “Don’t want you getting worked up too soon, do we?”

The even pressure on her groin eases some of the edge that had been building within her, and she manages to take a breath that relieves any more. Even so, she knows that once Lena gets to work with the vibrator, she would be hard pressed to draw this out as long as she hoped she could.

Lena isn’t one to disappoint. She plays Kara like a fiddle, taking her tantalizingly close to edge after edge, before drawing her back down again and again. Her technique is expert– the vibrator seems to trace patterns everywhere but her clit. Her labia, her bikini line, even the bottom edge of her belly. Sometimes, when Kara lingers too long on one edge, a warm tongue soothes her clit, dulling the hungry ache.

“Hanging in there?” Lena checks in once Kara stops squirming. 

“Barely,” Kara gasps, panting. 

“You are so hot,” Lena purrs. “You’re doing so good.”

That alone almost almost pitches Kara over the precipice. She curls her fingers into the sheets, gritting her teeth. “Soon,” she warns.

“Just say the word, baby. I’ll get you there.”

Lena starts again, taking her time tracing more patterns around her ultimate destination. Slowly, inevitably, the pressure building to unprecedented heights. Kara’s never been attended to like this, never been read so plainly, so intuitively. It’s as though Lena has already memorized her body, chasing every sensitive part of her with expert precision until even the ebb aches as deliciously as the flow. 

When Lena brings the vibrator closer to her clit than she has so far, Kara cracks. 

“Now!” she gasps.

The vibrator has hardly touched her clit when Kara hurtles over. She can’t help the cry that escapes her, loud and long and desperate. She’s never made a sound like this before. She doesn’t realize Lena hasn’t moved the vibrator before she’s tipping into a second orgasm, then a third. The last lingers for long, long seconds and only then do the vibrations cease.

The whine that Kara issues is inhuman to her own ears, but Lena only chuckles as she climbs up to check on her.

“Still conscious?” 

Kara grunts plaintively, as her fingers slowly release the sheets. 

“That was– whoah!”

Lena’s exclamation is swallowed by Kara’s mouth on hers, lunging for a kiss before full conscious thought has even returned. Lena melts into it, letting the kiss deepen and last until Kara is the one to break it. 

“Amazing,” she finishes Lena’s sentence for her. “That was amazing. You’re amazing.”

Lena’s cheeks flush under the praise. “And you,” she returns, “are a glutton for punishment. You lasted longer than I thought you would. Much longer.” She licks Kara’s upper lip so sensually, it almost makes Kara ask for another round. Almost. “Good girl.”

Kara sighs. “I don’t know if I can return the favor,” she confesses. It kills her to say it, but she barely feel her toes. Lena laughs. “I’m sorry…”

“Please,” Lena dismisses, still laughing. “That’s possibly the greatest compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

Kara blinks. “Ever?”

“Ever,” Lena confirms. She smiles, her eyes warm and full of comfort as she gazes down at Kara. “How about an early night then?”

A sigh escapes Kara. “That sounds…”

“Amazing?” Lena teases.

“Yeah,” Kara confirms contentedly. “Amazing.”

[vodika-vibes]

Hello hello! Congrats on your 650 followers! I saw you had requests open so here I come bc I love how your mind thinks 😌

Commander Fox, Regency AU (or similar to Bridgeton kinda vibes)

But a more will they/wont they type of thing (Happy ending tho, maybe bit of angst??) but similar to Bridgerton where they have ‘the season’ or the courting season.

I just feel that foxy boy had great Duke Hastings vibes and I’d love to see how you run with this idea!

Our Unending Dream

Summary: You like to think you’re a little more reasonable than some (most) of your peers. You’ve never been one for flights of fancy or prone to the vapors. People don’t get under your skin because you don’t allow them to. With one, very notable, exception.

Pairing: Commander Fox x F!Reader

Word Count: 977

Prompt: Regency Era

Warnings: None

Tagging: @bad4amficideas @justiceandwar98 @Mira-Loves-Star-Wars @tiredbi-peach @dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023 @Kimiheartblade @padawancat97 @falconfeather23435 @etod

@bb8-99 @kiss-anon @continous-mistakes

A/N: So, full disclosure, I've never watched Bridgerton so I was kind of making it up as I go. In any event, I hope you like it! It's also shorter than the other, and I'm sorry for that.

Click HERE to join my taglist!

When your aunt informed you that she was throwing a Salon for you and your cousin, you thought it would be for your cousin’s birthday celebration. A young lady doesn’t turn 21 every day, after all.

And stars know that your poor cousin deserves to have people paying attention to her, at least for one day.

It was, as it happens, a rather foolish assumption.

“I think Mother is trying to kill me,” Your cousin whispers to you an hour after the Salon starts and she’s able to extract herself from the group of well-wishers who have been hovering around her since the party started.

“I think she’s trying to marry you off.” You counter as you take a sip of your fruity drink, “Or have you not noticed that all of your shadows are noble men?”

She shoots you a look, “This Salon is for both of us. Why don’t you have any suitors?”

“Oh, haven’t you heard? I’m unmarryable.”

“According to whom!?” Your cousin demands, offended on your behalf.

“Myself.”

She shoots you another look, “Some day, cousin of mine, you’re going to fall in love with a man and I’m going to laugh myself sick.”

“Well, then. In deference to your health, I shall simply have to join a convent.”

She elbows you roughly, “Darling, you can’t drink wine at a convent.”

“The things I do for family,” You muse dramatically.

She laughs, which has the misfortune of drawing the attention of her suitors once more, and she hides her sour face behind her fan, “Back to the trenches I go.” She says with a sigh before she sweeps away, her voluminous pink dress swirling around her feet.

You smother your laughter with ease and lift your wine glass back to your lips to take another sip. If nothing else, watching your cousin try and fend off her suitors will be amusing.

It’s not as if anyone is interested in you, after all.

Though, despite what you said to your cousin, there is one man who you wouldn’t mind paying attention to you. Tragically, he’s both not here and is not an acceptable partner for you…according to your Father and his wife.

Tragic.

Heartbreaking, even.

You glance away from your cousin as someone comes to a stop near you, and a flash of red and white catches your attention. A very specific pattern of red and white.

Marshal Commander Fox is standing next to you, still dressed in his armor, with a small grin playing on his handsome face. 

“Commander! I wasn’t aware that you had been invited,” You say as you focus your attention on him.

“I was not.” He admits with a shrug, “Technically, I’m crashing the party.”

“Shame on you.”

“Yes, yes. I’m an awful man, I know.” His small grin grows wider at his words, “What can I say, all of the lovely ladies dressed in their finest? I simply had to see for myself.”

You shoot him a slightly amused look, “Funny.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I might believe you if you were looking at anyone else.”

He laughs, “Well, you are the loveliest lady here.” Fox replies with a flirty grin.

“Thank you,”

“I mean it.”

“I know you do. You always do.”

Fox releases a sigh, “You’re turning me down again, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t want you to run afoul of my father.” You remind him, “He could ruin you.” And that’s the problem, isn’t it? No matter how much you like Fox, no matter how much you might love him, your Father would ruin him.

And you can’t let that happen.

A heavy sigh falls from his lips, and you chance a glance at his face. He looks unhappy, and your heart clenches painfully. You put that look on his face. This is your fault.

Fox’s gaze locks with yours, and a slow smile crosses his face, “Run away with me.”

“...I beg your pardon?”

“My whole unit is being transferred, we’re moving to the other side of the country. Come with me.” Gently, he takes your free hand and lightly runs his calloused fingers across the palm of your hand, making you shiver. 

“Fox—”

“I can’t give you the life you grew up with,” He interrupts, “There’s no glitz or glamour. You won’t be able to throw these types of garden parties, and you’ll probably have to get a job.” Fox lists, “It’s not going to be easy, even I know that. But no real relationship is.”

You open your mouth to say something, but he continues in a rush, as if afraid of what you might say before he can make his full argument.

“And I know you, beautiful. You’ve always hated this kind of stuff. You hate the frilly dresses, the complicated hair-dos, and the jewelry that costs as much as a house.” Fox speaks quickly, his gaze searching your face, “You always complain about how bored you are, how shallow your peers are, how you can’t talk to anyone because all they want to talk about are their social lives—”

“Fox,” You interrupt him buy reaching up and pressing a finger against his lips.

He trails off and looks down at you. A look os anxious anticipation on his face.

You favor him with a soft smile, “Do you think I could get hired at the local library?”

Fox looks surprised for a moment, “Wait…does that mean—?”

“Nothing would make me happier than to go with you,” You whisper to him.

He squeezes your hand, “Then we’d better run before your parents catch us,” Fox replies with a wide grin, “Thorn is already ordained, and Thire promised to be our witness.”And you giggle as you allow him to sneak you out of the party. Your life is going to be harder now, you know. But it’s worth it. He is worth it.