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iamgonnagetyouback · 1 day ago

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childhood sweethearts and paper rings

james potter x reader where you both realize your love through paper rings

↬ word count : 3,438 words ˎˊ˗

↬ warnings : fluff overload, pining, a sprinkle of angst but resolved quickly, excessive paper rings

↬ inspired from : (a bit) ➺ paper rings by taylor swift ♡

↬ author's note : childhood best friends to lovers is james potter’s ultimate trope. argue with the wall.

navigation┆james potter masterlist┆request here 𝜗𝜚

James Potter was seven years old when he decided that he was going to marry you. He didn’t understand much about marriage—only that it meant you’d be together forever, which sounded like the best thing in the world. After all, you were his best friend, and if forever wasn’t you, then who else could it be for?

The Potters and your family were close friends, and most weekends, you were bundled into the fireplace to floo to their house. James would meet you on the other side, grinning wildly and already tugging your arm to drag you outside. The two of you were inseparable, whether you were building forts in the garden or chasing each other around with toy brooms.

“Sunny, you’re supposed to catch it!” James exclaimed one summer afternoon as he tossed a quaffle your way. His glasses slid down his nose, and he pushed them up impatiently.

“I’m trying!” you yelled back, laughing as the ball sailed past your outstretched arms. You were too busy giggling to notice James running to retrieve it. He came back with dirt on his knees and his hair even messier than usual.

“We’ll practice until you’re as good as me,” he declared, puffing out his chest in mock importance.

You scrunched up your nose, sticking your tongue out at him. “What if I don’t want to be good at Quidditch? What if I want to be the best cake-eater in the world?”

James grinned, his own cheeks turning pink. “Then I’ll be the second-best. We can do it together.”

By the time you were eight, James had discovered the fine art of crafting paper rings. It started when he saw his mum making origami flowers for a party. Naturally, he wasn’t allowed near the good parchment—but his dad handed him some scraps, and the rest was history.

The first paper ring James gave you was lopsided, crumpled at the edges, and had a faint ink smudge from where he’d tried to draw a flower on it. You’d accepted it with wide, delighted eyes, slipping it onto your finger like it was made of gold.

“What’s this for?” you’d asked, holding it up to inspect the crooked folds.

“It’s…” James hesitated, suddenly bashful. “It’s a promise. You’re my best friend, and I’ll always be there for you.”

You grinned so brightly he thought his chest might burst. “I’ll always be there for you too, Jamie!” you chirped, and the name stuck, much to his parents’ amusement.

At nine, you and James built a treehouse. Or at least, you started to. James had insisted on using magic, and after much begging and wheedling, his mum had charmed a few planks of wood into place.

“It’ll be our secret hideout,” James said as you hammered nails into the rickety ladder.

“For what?” you asked, holding the ladder steady. Your hair was sticking to your forehead, and there was a streak of mud on your cheek, but you couldn’t have been happier.

“For… secret plans,” James decided. “Like how we’ll sneak extra pudding without anyone noticing.”

You beamed. “And maybe we can put all the paper rings here too. Like a treasure chest!”

He thought that was the best idea ever.

By ten, James had made you more paper rings than either of you could count. Some were decorated with little doodles, others with clumsy attempts at flowers or hearts. You kept them all in a shoebox under your bed, treasuring them like the precious artifacts they were.

One rainy afternoon, you and James sat cross-legged on the rug in his room, watching the droplets streak down the window.

“Sunny,” James said, breaking the comfortable silence. “Do you know what love is?”

You tilted your head, considering. “Not really. I think it’s when someone makes you really happy. Like my mum when she bakes my favorite cookies.”

James nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah. I think it’s when someone does things for you. Like… like when you gave me the bigger half of your pie last week.”

You grinned, your toothy smile making his cheeks heat up. “Then I think love is when you gave me your scarf when I was cold.”

He grinned back, lopsided and bright. “Maybe love is when we’re best friends forever.”

When you turned eleven, everything began to change. A letter arrived, delivered by an official-looking owl, and James practically dragged you across the room to celebrate.

“We’re going to Hogwarts together!” he exclaimed, lifting you off the ground in his excitement. “This is going to be the best year ever!”

You squealed, clutching onto him as he spun you around. “Jamie, I’m so excited!”

Later that day, he gave you another paper ring. It was neater this time, folded carefully with gold-trimmed parchment he’d begged off his mum.

“This one’s special,” James said solemnly as you slipped it onto your finger.

“Why?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Because it’s the last one before Hogwarts,” he said. “But I’ll make you loads more when we’re there.”

You beamed, clutching the ring to your chest. “Best friends forever?”

“Forever,” he promised.

And that was the thing about James Potter. Even when he didn’t fully understand what love was, he knew one thing: it was always going to be you.

At Hogwarts, you quickly became part of the infamous Marauders. James, Sirius, Remus, Peter, and you. Whether it was sneaking into the kitchens for late-night snacks or plotting pranks on the Slytherins, the five of you were inseparable.

James had a knack for getting the group into trouble, and you had a knack for talking your way out of it.

“It’s not my fault Snape looks so funny when his robes turn pink,” James argued one day, as you all hid in an empty classroom after a particularly successful prank.

“You used an entire bottle of dye,” Remus pointed out dryly, though he was biting back a smile.

“Totally worth it,” Sirius said, high-fiving James.

Peter chuckled nervously. “Do you think he’ll ever figure out it was us?”

“Who cares?” you said, laughing. “Jamie, you’re brilliant.”

James beamed at your praise, his grin so wide it threatened to split his face.

But while James was fearless in most things, there was one subject that turned him into a bumbling mess: Lily Evans, although you understood the feeling, cause she was gorgeous.

“Merlin’s beard, just look at her,” James sighed dreamily one afternoon as the five of you sat under a tree by the Black Lake. Lily was a few yards away, reading a book and flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“You’re staring again,” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder.

James turned red. “I am not!”

“You absolutely are,” Sirius chimed in, smirking. “If you’re going to pine, at least do it with some dignity, Prongs.”

“I’m not pining!” James protested, though his voice cracked slightly.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “You drew a heart with her initials in your Transfiguration notes yesterday.”

“I did not!” James said, horrified.

Peter nodded enthusiastically. “You did. I saw it too.”

You burst out laughing, leaning into James as he groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Jamie, it’s okay to have a crush. Especially if it's on Evans. I do too but the difference is you’re terrible at hiding it.”

“You lot are the worst,” he muttered, though he couldn’t hide the small smile creeping onto his face.

Despite the relentless teasing, you were always James’ biggest supporter. When he finally worked up the courage to ask Lily out in your fifth year, you were the one who gave him the pep talk beforehand.

“You’re James Potter,” you said firmly, gripping his shoulders. “You’re charming, funny, and completely brilliant. If she doesn’t say yes, it’s her loss.”

James smiled nervously. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” you said confidently.

And even though a small part of you felt a twinge of something you couldn’t quite name, you pushed it aside. Because James was your best friend, and you’d always be there for him—just like he’d always be there for you.

It happened gradually, so slowly that you didn’t notice at first. The paper rings, once a constant in your life, became fewer and fewer. By sixth year, they stopped altogether. You told yourself it didn’t matter—after all, you and James were still thick as thieves. He was busy with Quidditch, the Marauders, and his relentless pursuit of Lily Evans.

But deep down, you missed them.

Then one day, an owl from your parents arrived during breakfast in the Great Hall. You tore open the envelope eagerly, only to feel your stomach drop as you read the letter.

The treehouse at the Potters burned down.

Your chest ached as you reread the words. The treehouse, your secret hideout, the place where you’d kept all the paper rings James had ever given you—gone. Reduced to ashes.

You left the Great Hall in a daze, clutching the letter as tears blurred your vision. It wasn’t just a treehouse. It was years of memories, laughter, and promises that now felt lost forever. You needed to tell James. He would understand.

You found him in the courtyard, a broad grin on his face as he spoke animatedly to Lily. She was laughing, her green eyes sparkling in the sunlight, and for a moment, you hesitated.

Then you saw it: a paper ring in his hand. Your heart clenched painfully as he turned it over in his fingers, showing it to Lily with the same excitement he’d once reserved for you.

You felt a lump form in your throat. It was silly, really. You’d known for years that James fancied Lily. You’d encouraged him, teased him, supported him. And yet, seeing him with a paper ring—your paper ring—meant for her…

It felt like losing a part of yourself.

You turned on your heel and walked away before he could see you, the letter crumpled in your hand. As you hurried back to the common room, you tried to push the image from your mind, but it clung stubbornly.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. Maybe Lily had finally agreed to a date. Maybe the ring wasn’t even for her. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

But the ache in your chest told a different story.

You didn’t sleep much that night. The weight of the treehouse’s destruction—and the memories it held—pressed heavily on your chest. When morning came, you dragged yourself to breakfast, your usual bubbly demeanor dimmed.

James was already there, sitting with Sirius, Remus, and Peter, recounting some Quidditch play. He caught sight of you as you approached, and his grin faltered.

“Morning, sunny,” he greeted, nudging the bench beside him. “You look like you didn’t sleep a wink.”

You plopped down next to him, twisting the edge of your sleeve. “James… the..the treehouse, it burned down.”

His face froze, confusion quickly giving way to shock. “What?” His voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

You handed him the crumpled letter. He read it, his expression shifting to heartbreak. “Our treehouse? The one we built with my mum’s old cushions and all the fairy lights?”

You nodded, your throat tight. “All the paper rings… they were in there, James.”

For a moment, he just stared at the letter. Then, without warning, he pulled you into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around you like they used to when you were kids, and you buried your face in his shoulder, letting the familiar scent of parchment and pine comfort you.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t think—I didn’t realize—”

You missed the way his breath hitched, his soft oh of realization. Missed the quick glance he threw across the table to Lily, whose knowing gaze met his. Her lips curled into the faintest smile, as if she understood something neither of you had quite pieced together yet.

But you were too caught up in the hug, too lost in your own heartbreak to notice anything else.

James Potter was not one to do things halfway. The moment he realized how much those paper rings had meant to you, he made it his mission to bring them back into your life in abundance. It started small—a single paper ring folded neatly and tucked into your Potions book during class.

“James,” you whispered, holding it up with an amused smile. “You’re going to get us in trouble.”

“Trouble’s my middle name,” he whispered back, grinning mischievously before turning back to Slughorn’s lecture like he hadn’t just slid a tiny masterpiece of folded parchment into your life.

But James Potter didn’t stop at small. Soon, the paper rings started appearing everywhere. One in your bag during Transfiguration. Another tucked into your scarf at breakfast. A stack of them slid under your pillow one night. He even charmed one to float down from the owlery like a paper snowflake as you walked past.

The grandest moment came during Defense Against the Dark Arts. James, thinking he was being discreet, crept over to your desk mid-lecture to slip a particularly colorful ring onto your parchment. Just as he leaned down, a shadow loomed over both of you.

“Ahem,” Professor McGonagall’s sharp voice cut through the room like a knife. The class went silent, every head swiveling to witness James Potter caught red-handed.

James straightened, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Just delivering a very important piece of classwork, Professor,” he said smoothly, holding up the paper ring as if it were a prized essay.

McGonagall’s lips twitched, though she worked hard to suppress a smile. “Very well, Mr. Potter. But if I catch you again, you’ll be writing lines until your quill runs out of ink.”

“Yes, Professor,” James said solemnly, though his wink to Sirius betrayed him.

As McGonagall turned back to the blackboard, you swore you saw her glance over her shoulder and wink—wink—at you. For a moment, you questioned your sanity.

By the end of the week, you had more paper rings than you knew what to do with. You didn’t have the heart to throw them away—not after all the effort James had gone to—so you started collecting them in an old chocolate box you found in your dorm.

Every night, you added the day’s rings to the collection, tracing your fingers over the creases and folds as you smiled to yourself. It was ridiculous, really. They were just bits of paper, after all. But each one felt like a tiny promise—a reminder of a boy who made the world brighter simply by being in it.

It was another morning at the Gryffindor table, and James was unusually quiet. Normally, he’d be drumming his fingers on the table, bantering with Sirius, or laughing at something Peter said. But today, he was poking at his eggs, lost in thought.

Remus noticed first. Of course, he did. “You haven’t mentioned Lily in a while,” he remarked, raising an eyebrow. “What happened? Did she finally hex you into silence?”

Sirius barked a laugh, and Peter snorted into his pumpkin juice. But James just shrugged, looking nonchalant.

“Oh, yeah, about that,” he said casually, as if he weren’t about to drop a bombshell. “Well… that’s not happening.”

Your fork clattered onto your plate. “Really?” you blurted, a little too loudly. You immediately ducked your head, heat rushing to your cheeks.

James smirked, but it wasn’t his usual mischievous one—it was softer, more thoughtful. “Yeah, she kind of pointed out that I might have feelings for someone else.”

The table went silent. Even Sirius, who rarely let anything keep him quiet for long, was staring at James in surprise.

“And?” Remus prompted, leaning forward like he already knew the answer.

“And I realized… she was right,” James admitted, his voice quieter now.

“Oh,” you said softly, trying to ignore the way your heart was racing. “That’s… interesting.”

“Yeah,” James said, turning to look at you with a curious expression. “It is.”

For a moment, his hazel eyes seemed to search yours, like he was trying to figure out if you knew what he meant—if you felt the same.

But before he could say anything else, Sirius, who clearly couldn’t handle the suspense, interrupted with a loud, “So, who’s the lucky person, Prongs? Don’t leave us hanging!”

James flushed, the tips of his ears turning pink as he grabbed a piece of toast and stuffed it into his mouth, muttering something unintelligible.

“Oh, come on,” Sirius teased, elbowing him. “Out with it, mate!”

But James just shook his head, laughing nervously. “Not telling,” he mumbled through a mouthful of toast.

The conversation shifted after that, Sirius dragging Peter into a heated debate about whether or not owls secretly judged their owners, and you found yourself staring at your plate, your thoughts spinning.

You didn’t know what to make of James’ words. Who was he talking about? Was it someone you knew? Was it… you?

You glanced at James out of the corner of your eye. He was laughing now, teasing Peter about his messy handwriting, but there was something different about him—something softer.

You pushed the thought away. It couldn’t be you. Could it?

The Owlery was quiet, save for the soft hoots of the owls roosting in their perches. You had just tied your letter to your parents onto a barn owl’s leg, stroking its feathers as it took off into the morning light. Beside you, James was doing the same, his handwriting as messy as ever but filled with his usual warmth and charm.

As his owl soared into the sky, you lingered by the ledge, watching the horizon. James leaned beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was comfortable, the kind that came with years of friendship. But you couldn’t stop thinking about breakfast, about what he’d said, and about the way he’d looked at you.

“So,” you started, your voice soft, “this… someone else you might have feelings for.”

James froze, his hands gripping the stone ledge. “Oh,” he said, his voice an octave higher than usual. “That.”

You turned to face him, your heart thudding in your chest. “Yeah, that.”

James rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “Right. Well…” He hesitated, his usual confidence faltering. “It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated how?” you asked, taking a step closer.

He glanced at you then, his hazel eyes searching yours. “Because, well because it’s you,” he said quietly.

The words hung in the air, delicate and trembling. You stared at him, your mouth slightly open in surprise. “Me?”

“Yeah,” James said, his cheeks flushing pink. “It’s always been you, I think. I just… didn’t realize it until Lily pointed it out. And then when I thought about it—about us—it just made sense, you know? You’ve always been there. You’ve always been you.”

Your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “James…”

“I know it might be weird,” he said quickly, misinterpreting your silence. “And if you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. I just thought you should know, because I—”

“I feel the same,” you blurted out, cutting him off.

He blinked at you, his mouth hanging open. “You do?”

You nodded, a shy smile spreading across your face. “I do.”

For a moment, James just stared at you, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Then, slowly, his lips curled into the biggest, brightest grin you’d ever seen.

“Brilliant,” he said softly, almost to himself.

You laughed, the sound light and bubbly, and he joined in, his joy infectious. Before you knew it, he was stepping closer, his hand reaching for yours.

“I, uh, don’t have a proper ring,” he said, his voice nervous but warm. “But…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a familiar folded strip of parchment.

Your breath hitched as he gently slipped the paper ring onto your finger, his touch lingering. “There,” he said, his smile soft and a little shy. “Perfect.”

You looked down at the ring, your chest swelling with warmth. It was so James—simple, sweet, and utterly wonderful.

“Perfect,” you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

When you looked up, he was already watching you, his hazel eyes filled with something so soft and tender it made your knees weak.

“Does this mean you’re stuck with me?” you teased, your cheeks aching from how hard you were smiling.

“Forever, if you’ll have me,” James said, grinning.

And as the owls cooed above and the sunlight bathed the two of you in gold, you knew you would. Forever and always.

#dividers by adornedwithlight #pictures from pinterest #dividers by enchanthings #ivy's soft scribbles ೀ #james potter x reader #james potter #james potter fluff #james fleamont potter #james fluff

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blushweddinggowns · 2 days ago

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Eddie guessed that it was his own fault for waiting the last second to get a new one. He thought that he’d be able to wait it out. He was on the edge of graduating from his apprenticeship at the shop, so, so close to being able to afford the apartment completely on his own. But then his boss had to go and make it clear that nothing was happening until the New Year, a solid three months away.

His paycheck to paycheck life style wasn’t gonna cut it for that long. And that's how we found himself desperate enough to post a Craig’s list ad. What did he think was going to happen? That he’d get the creme of the crop? No. The only applicants he’d had were a chronic cigarette smoker who couldn’t wait to light up until after the apartment tour, a middle-aged guy who immediately told him that his ferrets free-roaming around the house was a non-negotiable, and some dude who wore polo shirts and looked like he fell out of a highschool rom-com.

He should have chosen the smoker. But no, he had to go with the eye-candy. Despite the fact that he knew Steve would never look twice his way, even with the low odds that he even liked men.

But he couldn’t help it.

Eddie had been a failure when it came to romance ever since he moved out of his uncle’s place. Twenty-four years of conservative small town bullshit, all culminating into a completely lack of ability when it came to getting laid. Three more completely dedicated to making something of himself out in the city. He hadn’t been prepared to ward-off the model with the puppy dog eyes and the sob story of his last place flooding.

Though in his defense, it wasn’t just from his extremely horny mind. Steve seemed polite enough when they first met. He was surprisingly sweet for someone openly wearing Ralph Lauren. So when he said that he could move in immediately, Eddie was sold. He didn’t even think to question Steve paying his first month of rent in cash. He was just relieved the worry about getting kicked out was officially gone.

The first week had been fine enough. Eddie met a few of his friends who were helping him move in. It was a gaggle of twenty-one year olds, oddly enough.

“I was their babysitter,” Steve had sighed when Eddie asked about it, his eyes fond, “They got a little too attached. Now I’m an underage uncle for life.”

It was cute, another point towards Eddie’s slight pining. But then, Steve went back to work.

Eddie didn’t care that he worked a night shift. He could understand that, tip-based work was pretty lucrative. He was pretty sure Steve was a bartender or something considering the crazy hours. He could handle a few bumps in the night while he got situated.

What Eddie couldn’t handle was Steve’s multi-hour long, middle of the night routine. He’d get home at three a.m.

And yeah, maybe Eddie hadn’t been totally upfront about the downsides of this place when he got Steve to sign the sublet. Despite the price, their walls were paper thin. The advertised “soundproofing” of the place had only applied to hearing the neighbors. You could hear everything in this place, from the front door to their insanely loud showerhead. A fact that he assumed Steve would catch up on without Eddie having to act like an RA.

With him and Gareth having basically the same schedule, Eddie had forgotten just how loud things could be. But Steve quickly gave him a reminder. Without fail, he’d hop into the shower first thing, the sound of the water pounding against the ceramic more than enough to wake Eddie up. Not to mention the singing. The good quality of his voice did not make up for the fact that it was tortuous at night.

But it didn’t stop there. No, then he’d go to his room and talk for hours. Eddie had no fucking idea what kind of freak was sharing a five a.m. time table, but it was killing him. Whoever it was knew how to rile Steve up like no other, his laughter so clear through out the night that Eddie couldn’t focus on anything else. It was a lot, it was intense, and Eddie was losing his fucking mind. He tried to find time to talk to him about it, be civil about the whole thing. But when Eddie woke up Steve was dead to the world. When Eddie got home from work, Steve was already gone for his own.

That’s how he found himself here. Wide awake for the fourth night in a row while Steve’s voice streamed through the walls. Every passing second had his pathetic crush on the man dissolving more and more. The last bastion between Steve and Eddie telling him to fuck off.

an excerpt from my soon to be exchange fic. Of course I'm an extension needing bitch 😩😩😩

#steddie #steddie fic #coming soon #omg they were roommates #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #fic preview #how do they always get so long......

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baronboar · 2 days ago

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Descriptive text:

A series of infographics this page reads as follows: Worldbuilding: How can a furry setting handle size differences? In my setting of Firnus, few countries have attempted to create a society free from disparity. Waizentrum gets pretty close! [IMG: three different anthropomorphic people, a mustel, like a pine marten is the shortest, barely up to the knee of the third person and a little over half as tall as the second who is a pointy eared rat called a Gilter, the third is a big-cat like a lioness with a floofy tail who is a Panthera.]

Waizentrum's first currency: the THU12.7 marl. While fit for Gilter, the Mustel have difficulty holding more than one in a hand. Yet if the coin is made any smaller the Panthera have difficulty handling them with their less dexterous fingers. Since this currency has a value determined by it's actual weight and make up, it's important that each coin is the same. [IMG: the hands of the three people, each half as big as the next. A yellow coin rests in each, it fits perfectly in the middle hand.]

What else can we use? [IMG: Two paper bills, two yellow rods, coins with holes (cash) and yellow beads on a string.] Paper bills or contracts are easy to print, but don't last long. Even if you're trying to be careful, sticking a piece of paper in your pocket while you have claws can lead to disaster. metal sticks/rods fit most criteria, but are somewhat brittle. While a Mustel can carry them in a bundle, larger folk find they break while in a pocket or grasped in a fist. Cash and beads solve a similar issue but are unwieldy in their own ways. Cash is a repeat of coins, some are too big, some are too small. But beads are almost perfect, those with large hands can keep them on string, but will be at a loss if they slip and scatter… One of these may be perfect for your setting, but Waizentrum went for.. The Serp! [IMG: 5 images of the Serp being carried, the serp is a snake shaped ring with a gap that can be closed. On smaller people it is hung from a chain on a belt and worn on the wrist. For the larger people it is coin sized but can also be worn as a ring or put in a scroll case.] These coins can be stored easily on string or in a standard scroll case. Waizentrum citizens only carry small amounts of money, so 1-3 serps worn as a ring, bracelet, or on a belt. Makes for perfect carrying around money. Easy to manufacture, these coins can be hammered flat or curved. While they have issues, most are not major for the people they are designed for. Larger scale trade uses the flattened serp as well as raw materials.

Problem 2!! [IMG: A panthera and mustel use a flight of stairs, the panthera walks easily while the step is as tall as the mustel's legs, they look up as they say 'did you design these??'.] This one plagues even the real world, as we all have places to be! anyone can use a walkway provided it is even, flat, and they have any necessary mobility aids to assist them. But stairs are the tricky part. Most furry settings are contemporary, so escalators are often used to solve the difficulties that small folk would face while travelling alongside taller people. But what if you're outside or low-tech?

Ramps! Surely the best option is always a ramp?

The stairs we use in daily life are (usually) 50 degrees at the steepest, sitting between there and 30 degrees. But the most widely accessible ramps are 5 degrees or under! [IMG: four diagrams, the first is a chart of angles with 90, 50, 30, 10 and 0 degrees. The next is a 5 degree ramp, then a 20 degree ramp, then 30 degree stairs.] As you can see, it takes three times the distance for a ramp to cover the same height as stairs in this example. So! If depth is not a factor, that's perfect… But say it is?

the best solution i've seen in popular media comes from somewhere you may not expect: DARK SOULS anor londo is inhabited by both humans and giants. This graceful solution simply applies multiple sizes of steps.

[IMG: artwork of a flight of stairs, it is massive leading to a castle and has three staircases, the middle has large steps and the other two have the same small ones. In the foreground a gilter points at these and says: 'So we just need this! right?']

Yes! But can we do better? The Anor Londo design is very wide, you would need 2-3 staircases to let people walk up and down simultaneously. [IMG: three staircases, the first is like the anor londo stairs, the next has smaller block like steps down the middle of the staircase, and the third has some large and some small steps.] First: Pro: Simple to build, prevents kicking incidents. Con: not ideal for middle-sized folk, very wide. Second: Pro: Takes up less space, Middle-sized folk have half-steps they can use provided the steps are deep. Con: smaller folk put in the prime line of danger and may be hit. Third: Pro: Takes up the least space, possible integrated gentle slope allows for increased elevation. Con: Difficult to build, Could pose a tripping hazard.

Ideally, all of these would be accompanied by a ramp, lift, or even teleportation as an option for those with need for them! handrails too of course!

[IMG: A mustel and panthera talking, the panthera is sitting casually. The mustel says: 'Honestly, whatever is chosen will exclude someone!' Then the Panthera says: 'Maybe we should choose what works for the most people?' Then the mustel concludes: 'It's better than clambering on all fours!!']

How equal can a society be if some fundamentals are unusable by a third of the population? You can learn a lot about a world by looking at the little details, especially in furry settings!

#alt text

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tinfoil-jones · 1 day ago

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Jerk Ford AU: About

[Art by: @tearosepedall]

[Jerk Ford Not a jerk to his brother and only his brother The most hated Ford in the Multiverse]

[Doesn't need as much protecting Teen Jerk Ford: F#ck off Teen Stan: Ford! Don't do that!]

[Stan is a well liked guy Stan never ended up homeless, because Ford believed him]

Ford was the worst type of student because he's really good at everything that he does, just like any other version of himself. Like, the teachers were mad he was their best (academically speaking) student.

They'd prefer it if he was a delinquent who never did his homework and showed up late to class. But no, he not only did all of his assignments, but he also did extra credit that he didn't need, and showed up early to everything. Just like all of the other Fords.

He was the Chess, Spelling Bee, and Debate Team champion all four years he was in high school. He could have skipped several grades and only didn't because ya know, twin. And this continued while he was in college and got his 12 PHDs.

Stanley was his only supporter in all of that because everyone wanted him to fail. Some people (like their parents) even tried to pressure Stan into also hating his brother but one of the Universal Constants is that you can't make Stan hate his brother. People didn’t even bring up the fact that Stanley wasn’t the genius twin, people called him the ‘good twin’ because he wasn’t a jerk.

Stanley is just a regular guy in this AU. He was never a criminal or con artist. He went to Backupsmore University with Stanford and Fiddleford (Fiddleford would sometimes use Stan to pass messages along to Ford, because he did not want to talk to Ford if he didn't have to). He's a Chemistry Teacher who also helps out with Theatre.

[Bill: You tricked me!!! Jerk Ford: Skill Issue]

[Jerk Ford, to all other AU Fords: Wait! You all actually fell for that triangles flattery?! LOL]

He knew Bill Cipher was just f***ing with him with all of that talk of "I'm a muse" and "You're more special than everybody" (he already knew that he doesn't need a triangle to validate that). Ford just wanted to flip the script on him in the end in the most elaborate 1980s version of Jackass you've ever seen.

All of the other Fords hate him so much not just because he's a jerk (that's the majority of the reason though), but because of how weirdly competent and self-actualized he is comparatively speaking.

He didn't fall for Bill tricks. He's so sure of himself that he doesn't have the same hero (or villain, depending on the AU) complex. He doesn't want to take over the universe, or be the savior of it, or even be the one who kills Bill Cipher. He's just a jerk to everybody (except Stan) because he likes being a jerk.

Jerk Ford is one of the few Fords who maxed out his Charisma. He just uses that charisma to make people hate him instead of like him

Because charisma isn't just 'likability', it's your Presence and Force of Personality. His presence is so strong all he has to do is walk into a room, and you know he's an a**hole.

If you were to sum up what Jerk Ford is like around other Fords, it's like this:

"Every Stanford Pines in the multiverse reviles and despises that man."

Jerk Ford: You all want to be me so bad.

"NO WE DON'T YOU A**HOLE"

[Mabel: He's not actually THAT big of a jerk right?" Dipper: *wants to strangle him* Jerk Ford: Stanley who are these twerps?]

[Stan: Oh! They are family poindexter, Shermies grandkids! Jerk Ford: I see *doesn't care*]

If I were to give Jerk Ford a unique design to set him apart from Fords of other AUs, his turtleneck and muddied boots are swapped with these:

The hoodie is the usual red colour, the font is probably the same gold colour as his zodiac symbol. The puffed croc boots are also probably the same colour as canon Fords.

He doesn't have any embarrassing tattoos because the tattoo artists of Gravity Falls would never service Ford. Because he's not just banned from every establishment in Gravity Falls, but if he enters any business you are legally allowed to and encouraged to shoot him.

In fact Bill gave up possessing Ford to ruin his reputation with the townsfolk early on because nothing he did was worse than anything Ford did by himself.

You know how Ford drew himself coming out of the portal with aura in Journal Three?

Most of the other Fords try to look cool, and you just have this dude over here who doesn't give a s*** because he already believed his own hype. He doesn't feel the need to be ✨Extra✨ unless if he's being mean or generally unpleasant to somebody.

#Jerk Ford #Jerk Ford AU #stanford pines #ford pines #gravity falls #grunkle ford #stanley pines #stan pines #grunkle stan #gravity falls au #au #dipper pines #mason pines #mabel pines #fiddleford hadron mcgucket #fiddleford mcgucket #old man mcgucket #bill cipher

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vitalverstappen · 2 days ago

Text

The Bolter - L. Norris

summary: as she was leaving, it felt like breathing

pairing: Lando Norris x heiress! situationship! reader

warnings: drinking, swearing, allusions to sex, angst, pining

word count: 5k

masterlist

the tortured drivers department masterlist

Sponsorship events were never your thing. It was a bunch of frumpy old business men with race car drivers glued to their hips, begging for money. Not exactly your ideal Friday night. But unfortunately, having the Hilton name attached to you, you were forced to attend a few every year.

You never did the negotiations - that was all your father. Your job was to simply be the pretty face needed to help sweeten the deal in the company's favor. The idea of smiling and nodding through endless small talk wasn’t your idea of a good time, but it was worth it for the unlimited free stays, free room service, and much more.

Tonight’s event was hosted by Hilton, an invitation to show off why the company was the best in the business, and why drivers should want to be sponsored by them. With McLaren being based in England, it was only fitting that the event was held at the Waldorf Hilton in London.

You didn’t want to be there, but it was a necessary evil. The Hilton name had been intertwined with McLaren for years, and you were expected to show up and play your part. As you made your way through the crowd, glancing around for your father, you could tell it was going to be a long night.

Snippets of conversations - racing deals being discussed, numbers being thrown around like they were nothing - were heard as you scanned the crowd. It was all so transactional, so hollow. But before you could find the man you were looking for, your eyes landed on another.

Lando Norris, stood near the bar, chatting animatedly with a group of people, his signature grin never wavering. He was easy to spot in the crowd, his messy mop of curly hair now styled a bit, but he still had a mischievous glint in his eye.

You weren’t sure why, but something about the way he stood there - engaged but not entirely invested - caught your attention. It was rare for someone in the racing world to have such an air of self-assurance without trying too hard. You weren’t usually the type to seek out drivers at these events; they all blended together in the same corporate PR machine.

But you felt yourself being drawn in.

“Hey Lando” you said, strolling toward him with a soft smile, your voice cutting through the chatter around you.

His head snapped around, his eyes narrowed for a moment before a smile spread across his face. “Well, if it isn’t the Hilton heiress herself” he said, his voice casual, but warm. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight.”

You shrugged, tilting your head slightly. “I like to keep people on their toes, I guess.” you replied, glancing around the suited-up crowd. “I’m just here to make the room a bit more interesting.”

Lando chuckled, clearly amused. “I think you’ve already accomplished that. The room just got a whole lot more interesting.”

There was something in his eyes that told you he simply wasn’t making a polite compliment. He was genuinely intrigued, or at least, willing to entertain the idea of more conversation.

“Well, I guess it’s good to know I’m not the only one bored out of my mind.” you said, offering him a knowing smile. “It’s all business. But at least you get to drive the fast cars and make everyone love you. I’m just stuck shaking hands with people I’ve met a thousand times.”

“Same here, in a way” he said, leaning back slightly, his tone a little more relaxed now. “I’m usually the one doing the handshakes and smiling for the camera. I guess we both get our fair share of small talk.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So I’m guessing you’re a pro now?”

Lando grinned, a playful look in his eyes. “You could say that. But I’m always up for some better conversation. You know, something a little more… real.”

His words piqued your interest. You didn’t need to be in the racing world to know that Lando was a bit of a heartthrob. The media loved him - he was approachable, funny, and charming. But it was rare to see that side of him in a space like this, surrounded by corporate faces and press agents.

The conversation between you two grew more effortless, as if the world around you had melted away. You exchanged stories about the absurdity of these events, each of you poking fun at the cliches that came with it. But as the night wore on, you noticed something - something about the way Lando looked at you, something that was more than just playful banter.

It was the kind of look that made your pulse quicken, just a little. You weren’t sure if he was just playing along, or if he was genuinely interested in you, but the chemistry was undeniable.

For a moment, you considered pushing him away - making some witty comment to keep things light - but you were curious. Curious to see how far you could take it, how much you could toy with him before he realized what you were doing.

Some people would say you had a problem, bouncing from one guy to the next, as if they were toys you could discard at your own discretion. Your best friends always poked fun at how you dated, getting them hooked, and then leaving, prompting your nickname The Bolter.

But you liked to think of it as a talent - an art, really. A talent for keeping things interesting, for keeping people on their toes, and for never getting too attached. You weren’t a stranger to flirtation, to games of wit and charm, and this was no different.

By the time the event came to a close, Lando had asked for your number. You smiled as you handed it over - just another name to add to your list. You’d let him chase you for a bit, see how far he was willing to go, but in the end, you knew how it would play out.

The next time you saw Lando, it was at a house party. Your house party. You hadn’t planned for it - you didn’t even invite him. But there he was, leaning casually against your kitchen counter, a beer in one hand, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth like he knew something you didn’t.

It wasn’t until he caught your eye from across the room that you realized he had been waiting for this moment, waiting for you to notice.

You took a slow sip of your drink, eyes narrowing slightly as you surveyed him from across the room. Your eyes stayed locked on his as he made his way across the room, stopping next to you.

“You know” he said, his voice low enough to be a private comment but loud enough to be heard over the music, “you throw a good party”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though there was an edge to it. “I didn’t expect you to be here”

Lando just shrugged, that infuriatingly charming smile still on his lips “You didn’t expect half of these people to be here. But here we are.”

You couldn’t argue with that. The house was packed - people spilled out into every corner. You hadn’t planned for it to be this big, but somehow the word had gotten out, and no one was going to say no to a Hilton party.

“You never struck me as the type to crash a party” you said, leaning up against the counter. The marble was cold against the bare skin that was peeking out under your crop top. You knew he didn’t just stumble into here.

Lando leaned in slightly, “What’s it matter to you?” His voice was playful, but you could hear the underlying challenge in it. Like he was daring you to admit that maybe you were glad to see him.

You shifted your weight, crossing your arms as you did so. “Nothing, Norris.” you teased, but your eyes still tracked him, just a little too interested.

Lando chuckled, unfazed. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to ruin your party.” His eyes scanned the crowd briefly, then returned to you, taking in all of you. “Though I’m sure I could make it more interesting”

“I’m sure you could” you said, your flirtatious tone returning to your voice. You wanted him to drag you up the stairs. You wanted him to make a mess out of you right then and there.

But you couldn’t let him. He couldn’t have that satisfaction quite yet. You couldn’t boost his ego that quickly. He had to put in a little bit more work than crash your party.

Before you could respond, someone in the crowd shouted your name, and you turned away to find one of your friends weaving through the sea of people, clearly looking for you. Without a second thought, you walked towards her, leaving Lando alone in your kitchen.

Your friend wanted you to be her partner for beer pong, which to the surprise of no one, the two of you dominated. But as quickly as the two of you got to the table and played, you had left it, your focus set for your living room, which had turned into the dance floor, complete with a live DJ.

Your hips moved to the beat as the bass pulsated through you. The alcohol flowed through your system as you danced, not caring who saw you. The crowd around you blurred into the background, the flashing lights casting everything in almost a surreal glow. The DJ was pumping out track after track, each one pushed the energy higher.

Then, without warning, you felt an arm wrap around you. Turning, you came face to face with him again. His beer was replaced by a new one, and the same grin tugged at his lips.

“I wasn’t done with you. I was just getting started.” he said, his voice low and almost raspy.

You raised an eyebrow, not sure if you were flattered or annoyed. “What does that even mean?”

Lando’s grin only widened, and he took another step closer. “It means, darling, that I think you’ve been ignoring me for far too long.”

The simple sentences, spoken so casually, spent a spark of heat right through you. You bit your lip to keep from reacting too obviously, but the tension in the air was palatable.

“I’m not ignoring you,” you said, playing it cool, though the way your heart was racing told a different story. “You’re just not as interesting as you think you are.”

Before you could speak again, you felt his lips crash into yours. You were caught off guard at first, not expecting him to make the move then and there. Lando was intense, wanting to know all of you instantly. But as quickly as he had control, he lost it. He got lost in you, allowing for you to take over.

Your hands found their way to his jaw, fingers threaded through his hair as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. It was raw, and unstrained, an electrifying push and pull that left you breathless.

Lando groaned softly, his breath hitching as you took the lead, a grin playing at the corners of your lips when you felt the slight tremor in his body. He wasn’t expecting this - he was used to being in control.

But now, as your lips moved against his with increased urgency, it was clear that the tables had turned. His hands, once firm on your waist, now roamed relentlessly, as if trying to regain some semblance of power. You could feel the struggle within him, the way he fought to take control again, but you weren’t having it.

You pushed him back slightly, breaking the kiss just long enough to catch your breath. His eyes were darker now, full of desire and a flicker of challenge. “Can’t handle it?” he asked, a smirk forming on his lips

“If that’s what you want to think” you replied before you disappeared back into the crowd of people that managed to fit into your house, leaving Lando with the remnants of your smudged lipstick on his face.

You saw Lando again a few weeks later, but this time in a nightclub out in Singapore. The lights flashed in sync with the beat, the bass reverberated in your chest as you moved through the crowded dance floor. It was a completely different scene from the house party, yet Lando still managed to find his way to you.

The two of you had been texting off and on, but not nearly enough for you to expect him to know where you were. But there he was, surrounded by a few other drivers that you couldn’t name, the same uber confident smirk on his lips.

But the moment you caught his eyes, the smirk faltered for a moment, briefly being replaced by furrowed brows. The smirk returned instantly, but you definitely caught the slip.

Lando didn’t waste a second as he cut through the sea of people effortlessly. The moment he reached you, the noise of the nightclub seemed to fade, the beat of the music thumping in the background as everything else fell away. You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at him.

“We must stop meeting like this.” you teased, shaking your head slightly

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Lando asked, his smirk ever wavering as he leaned in slightly. “Besides, I wouldn’t wanna leave a charming woman like you alone and helpless.”

You raised an eyebrow, the teasing tone lingered in your voice as you took a sip from your drink. “You’re really starting to enjoy this, aren’t you?”

Lando chuckled, that glint of mischief never left his eyes. “You have no idea.” He glanced over your shoulder, seemingly scanning the crowd before focusing back on you. “What are you doing in Singapore anyway?”

You tilted your head, pondering his question, “A bit of fun, a bit of escape.” you said, messing with the straw in your drink. “And you?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, taking a step closer to you. “Just work. Wrapped up the weekend yesterday, but we all wanted to stay a few extra days.” he explained “Can’t say I expected to run into you here though.”

You smirked, watching him carefully. “Right, you were just hoping for it.”

His grin widened at your boldness, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “Maybe. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit, I’ve been trying to figure out how long it would take for us to cross paths again.”

As you took in his confession, the smirk on your lips widened. You had him right where you wanted him. Lando’s confidence, the way he seemed so sure of himself, was usually enough to keep people on edge, but right now, just like it had back at your house, only fueled your amusement. He was enamored by you, drunk on not only the liquid in his cup, but on you.

Your arms crossed over your chest, careful not to spill the drink in your hands. “Well you certainly have a knack for finding me, don’t you?”

Lando’s gaze softened for a moment, the playful smirk fading into something more genuine. “Guess I know where to look.”

Before you could respond, he offered a hand. “Finish your drink, let’s get out of here.” he insisted

You glanced at the drink before looking back at the Brit in front of you. You knew what he wanted, and honestly, you wanted it too. So, you poured the liquid down your throat, ignoring the burn that came with it, and took his hand out into the streets of Singapore.

Lando expected to wake up with you, the two of you tangled in sheets and memories from the night before. After all, that’s how it happened when he stayed the night at your place a mere few weeks ago.

But his eyes snapped open to the sound of the slam of a door. He shot up, the bed empty, but sheets still warm next to him.

His heart sank for a moment, confusion mingled with a twinge of disappointment. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside and the music still echoing in his mind.

The floor was cold under his bare feet as he stood and walked around the cramped hotel room, looking for any trace of you. But there was nothing. Your clothes had been picked up off the floor, and the McLaren t-shirt he had given you to sleep in was nowhere to be found.

“Fucking whore.” he muttered as he realized what you had done.

And that’s how it went for the next few months. The two of you would somehow run into each other, leaving with him as the night ended, only to leave his place before the sun rose in the morning. And no matter what Lando said under his breath about you when he woke to an empty bed, you knew he’d always be coming back for more.

The first time you saw Lando and neither of you took the other home was in New York.

You were there for work, or at least be the Hilton family representative at all of their executive meetings, as your father was busy doing the same out in London. In between the long, boring meetings, you found yourself tapping through social media, ultimately ending up on Lando’s Instagram story.

The photo was of Lady Liberty, with the simple location tag carelessly slapped on it. Based on the angle, you could tell it was taken on the New York side of the bay, most likely from Battery Park.

You don’t know what came over you, but you opened your text messages, and typed in Lando’s name. You stared at your phone for a moment, unsure of what you were doing. It had been a while since you last saw Lando, and while you had been fine with keeping it that way, now that you two were in the same city, the urge to see him again crept in.

You quickly typed out a message, second guessing yourself with every word.

You: you’re in town? How long?

You pressed send before you could talk yourself out of it, your finger hovered over the screen as you waited for a reply. You didn’t expect an immediate response, but a part of you was eager to hear from him, to see if he’d bite.

Seconds later, your phone buzzed. You glanced at the screen, a smirk playing on your lips as you read his response.

Lando: til friday. Might need a tour guide for the rest of the week.

You paused, considering your options. It was the last day full of meetings, and you had no places to be until next week, giving you plenty of time to show Lando around the vast city. But did you actually want to.

You: send me your hotel address. I’ll pick you up at 11am tomorrow

You weren’t surprised to find that he was staying at the Hilton in Midtown, thankfully only a few blocks away from Central Park - taking a taxi or the subway with a famous athlete never ended well.

When you arrived at the hotel, you spotted Lando standing in front of the revolving doors, looking very much like himself in a hoodie and sunglasses, his usual smirk plastered on his face. The second he saw you, the same cocky grin appeared.

“You actually showed up.” he teased, arching an eyebrow as you approached

You rolled your eyes, but a smile formed on your lips. “I’m not that unpredictable”

Lando raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “I beg to differ”

“Whatever” you mumbled

You led Lando through the bustling streets of the city. This place was a part of you, you knew it like the back of your hand. As you walked, you pointed out the places in the city that you held a little closer to your heart, the little corners of the city that tourists passed by with no thought.

“So this place,” you said, pointing to a hole in the wall Japanese restaurant, “serves the best ramen, and they’re open incredibly late. It’s a perfect spot or dinner or after a night out”

Lando glanced over at the restaurant, eyeing the neon sign above the door. “I guess I’ll have to check it out sometime.”

You continued down the streets, pointing out the bodega you go to religiously to cure your hangovers, and the coffee shop you stop at when you need a pick me up before meetings.

Eventually, the two of you found your way to Central Park, specifically to the boathouse. After paying to rent a boat, you made your way down to the shore.

“A rowboat?” Lando asked skeptically

You smirked as you handed him an oar, leaning back against the edge of the boat with a casual air. “What, you’re afraid of a little manual labor?”

Lando shook his head before taking the oar in his hands. “I just wasn’t expecting something so calm from you.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, settling into the boat and adjusting your own oar. “There’s more to me than you know” you said, your tone playful.

The sounds of the bustling city faded away as you rowed out to the middle of the lake, leaving you, Lando, and your thoughts. Conversation with him wasn’t the worst, but as you spent more time with him, you could see the water in the floorboards start to trickle in.

You had no problem with Lando’s confidence - it was the thing that drew you in in the first place - but it had a tendency to tip into arrogance, and that was something you didn’t tolerate. Maybe it was because you weren’t a stranger to that kind of behavior. You’d been surrounded by it your whole life. Whether it was your father’s business dealings, or the people who ran in your circle, self-assurance often crossed the line into entitlement.

And so, instead of taking him to that Japanese place you had mentioned earlier, you walked him back to his hotel. You stopped in front of the doors you had met at hours earlier, and Lando faced you, his hands stuffed casually in his pockets.

“Well,” he began, his grin reappearing. “I guess this is where I leave you.”

You nodded, taking a step back as you gave him a small smile. “Guess so. You don’t need a tour guide anymore.”

Lando chuckled, the light sound of it echoed in the space between you. “Maybe not. But you’re not as bad as I thought.”

Ouch.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” you asked, masking your hurt with amusement.

“Maybe,” Lando said with a shrug, his voice much lighter than yours. “But I’m still figuring you out.”

You met his gaze, steady and unflinching. He was never going to figure you out. “Good luck with that.”

There was a long pause, and for a moment, you almost expected him to say something more, something that would tip the scale between this complicated, almost-friendship and whatever else had been simmering under the surface. But he didn’t.

Instead, Lando flashed that trademark grin. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

You nodded, your own smirk playing on your lips. “Maybe. Take care, Lando.”

With that, you turned and walked away, not looking back as you heard him call out your name once more. The door to the hotel clicked shut behind you, and you found yourself standing on the sidewalk, the sounds of the city closing in once more.

The last time you ever saw Lando was in Las Vegas.

It had been a few months since New York, and in the time between, you hadn’t spoken much. Sure, there were a few messages here and there, the occasional “how are you” or drunk “wish you were here” texts, but nothing meaningful. You kept yourself occupied with the next guy you had chosen, some up-and-coming actor no one really knew the name of.

You were in Vegas for a friend’s birthday, and your group had been bouncing from casino to casino letting your money and the night run wild.

It was late when you saw him - at a bar on the Strip, a neon-lit, smoke-saturated lounge tucked away in the back of a casino. The crowd was loud, music pounding through the floor, but Lando was easy to spot. Even in the haze of the flashing lights, his smirk was unmistakable. He was leaning against the bar, surrounded by a few faces from Formula 1 that you still couldn’t name if you tried.

When he saw you, the world around you seemed to pause for a second. His eyes found yours, a flicker of recognition flashing before that stupid fucking smirk retured, like he had been expecting you the whole time.

Though, as easy as it was to meet his eyes, it was easier to tear your gaze away from them.

You looked away quickly, engulfing yourself back into the conversation you were having with your friends about the worst name to give a child. Even though your back was turned to him, you could feel his eyes still on you, piercing through you like daggers.

Your friend made some remark that made your laugh, but it felt hollow. You could sense him closing the distance between you, even though the crowd still swirled around you like an endless blur.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” a voice broke through

You didn’t need to turn to know it was him. You’d recognize that cocky tone anywhere. Slowly, you glanced over your shoulder, just enough to meet his gaze without letting the full weight of his presence hit you all at once.

His smirk softened just a fraction when your eyes locked. “Thought you were avoiding me” he added, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the music.

You forced a shrug, turning back to your friends. “I’m just here with some friends.”

Lando didn’t move. You could feel his eyes lingering on the back of your neck, the weight of them familiar, too familiar. It was almost suffocating, the way he managed to make you feel like the only person in the room, even in the midst of a crowd that seemed to pulse with life.

“Right,” he drawled, the mischievous smile never quite leaving his face. “Just here for the party, huh?”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you tried to focus back on your group. They were still talking, but your mind was clearly somewhere else. You could feel the tension between you building, thick and unspoken, and it was making you restless.

“Look,” you said, finally turning to face him fully. “It’s been a while, alright? I’m just not in the mood for all… this.” You waved a hand in his general direction.

Lando’s smirk flickered for a second, but he didn’t seem bothered. If anything, he seemed to find your discomfort amusing, which only made the knot in your chest tighten. He was putty in your hand, but he wasn’t something you wanted to play with anymore. The need to have you in his arms made you nauseous.

“I get it,” he said, his voice quieter now, more subdued. “But you’re still not gonna pretend like we don’t have unfinished business, are you?”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in his words. “There’s nothing unfinished between us, Lando.”

For a second, the playful air between you two dropped, replaced by something heavier. His lips parted, like he was going to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, he leaned in just a fraction. When he finally decided what to say, his voice lowered, as if you two were the only ones in the room.

“Is that so?” he said, the question hanging in the air, sharp and loaded.

You weren’t going to do this. Not here, in the middle of the bar. So, you grabbed his hand, and dragged him to a hallway away from the noise and the lights. When you got to the hallway, Lando’s smirk returned, expecting you to make a move now.

“You don’t get to decide what’s unfinished” you spoke instead, trying to keep your voice firm.

“But what if I think we do?” he asked, his tone now tinged with something more sincere. It was subtle, but you could hear it. A hint of something almost vulnerable. “I don’t know about you, but I haven’t forgotten what happened between us.”

“Yeah, well,” you began, keeping your eyes locked on his. “I’ve moved on. I’m not… whatever that was. I had a fun few months, but that’s all it was, just a few months.” you admitted, the words felt a weight being lifted as they came out of your mouth.

You watched as Lando’s face dropped, for the first time in a while, the smirk that was usually on his lips was nowhere to be found. The silence between you two was overwhelming as he took in your words. You almost walked out then and there, needing to be taken away by the alcohol and music around the corner, but your feet wouldn’t budge.

“You really believe that?” he asked softly, his voice almost disbelieving, the cocky bravado slipping further away. “You think we were just… a few months?”

You swallowed hard, your heart beating a little faster, but you held firm. It was never easy to let go of them. No matter how many times you bolted, it was still hard to say goodbye. But you knew that the feeling of fresh air and freedom outweighed the suffocation of staying.

“Yeah” you said, the words coming out with more conviction than you felt. “I do.”

And with that, you picked your feet up, and walked away. You let the smoke and neon lights greet you like an old friend as you returned to the bar, your friends still in the same place as where you left them.

“I have the best story for you guys” you said, excitement filled your voice as you returned to the group.

“Is it another one about a boy?” one of your friends teased

“Maybe…”

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taelophone · 11 hours ago

Text

✦ Teach Me ݁˖ ⋆˙⟡ — TA!Luigi Mangione x Reader ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ TWs: Pining . Sexual Tension . No Penetration . Smut . Power Play . Glasses on Luigi lol . Reader is kinda strange . Fingering . Kinda Mean Luigi . Overstimulation . ｡⋆ A/N: Sorry it took me so long I actually wasn't the biggest fan of this work. But I hope you enjoy it!

You could imagine that teaching was a tough job. The grading, the organization, teaching the same material at different levels day after day and hour by hour. Surely, the days would melt together, subjects and responsibilities sticking to each other and creating an unfortunate planning crisis.

That’s where the teaching assistant comes in.

As you made your way into the lecture hall, you pep-talked your mind to brace yourself for a long, boring, and mentally draining speech that would last over an hour. At least you had some questions written down that you planned to ask Professor Harrison regarding the lesson.

But at least it was your final class today before you could crash into your room.

So when you waltzed into the lecture hall, scanning the room for your professor, you were immediately confronted with the realization that he…wasn’t there. Even when you took your seat, the metal feet of your chair dragged against the dull blue carpet, generating the only sound in the room full of silence.

The clock ticked, that nerve-wracking tick-tock for a whole three minutes. Two minutes left until the lesson started, the red seconds hand gliding across the clock as you thought about leaving. But then in came someone you’d never seen before.

He looked about your age, maybe even a smidge older as he waltzed in through the open doorway, his head tilted upward like he was the biggest in the room.

“Hey, guys. Harrison isn’t here, he had some family stuff to do, but I’ll probably be leading today’s discussion” he said, his strong and sculpted arms peering through the soft fabric of his maroon tee.

It was a conscious effort to not let your jaw clatter down onto the floor like a skeleton. Tall, muscular, incredibly well-kept, and graced with the strongest Italian genes to ever kiss the surface of the twenty-first century.

“My name’s Luigi, I’m the new teaching assistant for Harrison, and my office hours are from four to seven-thirty.”

He smiled– the cute and content kind that left your heart squeezing with cuteness aggression and induced heart tremors. You stared directly through his eyes the best you could, following him with rapt attention that you seldom gave your real professor.

His voice; was a melancholic and deep hymn of firm knowledge that could mimic years of experience. He was tragically good and articulate with his words, subjects that you didn’t understand the first time untangling themselves in your mind to build clear pathways to the answer. In fact, you didn’t even need to ask the questions you had written down.

When he finished the lecture, gently closing his laptop and sitting atop the professor’s desk, he tapped his pen on the wooden surface repeatedly before turning to the room.

“Any questions? We have like…5 minutes left of class. Leave early, stay put, goof off, anything. As long as you’re not confused.”

There was no way in hell you were gonna leave without so much as speaking to him. You gathered your things up, leaving your notebook full of questions and doodles down on the table before trotting your way down to where he sat.

“Questions?” He asked, his head tilted to the side slightly as he bit the little push button of his bright blue pen between his plush and pink lips.

“Yeah, sorry, I just need you to explain these to me in a little bit more depth,” you murmured, shooting him a breathy and nervous chuckle before handing him your small notebook.

He hummed, taking the notebook from you graciously before his onyx brown eyes darted across the bulleted questions and the little doodles on the edges of the white-lined paper. He chuckled, eyeing a particular drawing you did of a bunch of hearts and flowers in a vase.

“Pretty drawings, they’re very nice,” he nodded, leaning back to grab his notepad and quickly write down your questions on his own. “Alright, what’d you need help with specifically? What’s confusing you?”

You made up some excuse on just needing it to be explained in more detail, prompting him to pull up a chair next to the cherry-oak desk. You quickly sat down in front of him, listening to him carefully as he essentially re-explained the lesson all over again from start to finish.

“Wow thank you,” you smiled, letting out a particularly girlish laugh as you finished writing down key points you had already written earlier on a clean leaf of paper. “That makes a lot of sense, I was so confused earlier.”

“Glad I could help,” he murmured, returning your giddy and girly grin with a boyish and bright beam of his own. He watched as you swung your backpack strap over your left shoulder and headed out the door, giving you a quaint wave as you did so.

Holy shit. Holy shit. OH MY GOODNESS.

Poor you. Poor, poor you.

He was even cuter up close with his smooth and seemingly flawless skin. A perfectly tanned tone with hints of olive under his complexion. And god, not to mention his nose…it’s faces like that that make you wanna cook and clean all day.

“No, Kat, you’re not listening. He’s perfect, like ten out of ten no flaws,” you said while staring at your vanity, gently applying moisturizer to your face. Kat, on the other end of the FaceTime, only grimaced at you with furrowed brows, the only sliver of her face you could actually see.

“Okay…let’s not sleep with the TA…” she joked, chuckling just out of frame as she propped the camera up and slid on a green spa headband before taking out her contact lenses. “I haven’t met him yet I don’t think. When did he start working for Harrison?”

You paused, ceasing your hand movements across your face as you thought about it for a moment. “I dunno actually. We didn’t make small talk, I just wanted to hear him say anything to me.”

Kathy laughed, glaring at you momentarily with wide eyes and furrowed brows. “Oh you’re filthy,” she giggled, repeating her skincare steps as you finished up yours. You sighed, shaking your head in what should have been a shame if a giddy and amused grin didn’t find shelter on your face.

“Hear me out, I just-“

“No.”

You sighed yet again, heavier and less enthusiastic before picking up the phone again. By now the device had grown hot, your 3-hour-long girl talk proving aggravating to your phone's thinning patience and heat capacity. “Phone’s getting hot, girlie. I’m gonna go lay down and rethink life.” You murmured.

“Alright babes goodnight,” Kathy smiled, leaning forward over her own vanity to hang up the phone.

And with a deep exhale through your nose, you stood up from your stool and climbed into your soft bed. With the comforter up to your ribs and your legs crossed at the ankle, you stared up at the ceiling before letting drowsiness lull you to sleep.

As days went by and Luigi slowly became more and more present in Professor Harrison’s class, you felt yourself spending more time during lessons watching his every move. If you were lucky enough, Luigi would teach a class and then chat and socialize with your classmates.

Days had turned into weeks, and weeks rolled over into months. You had been to pretty much every single office hour, pretending to be behind on certain topics and playing a dangerous game of feigned catch-up just to sit at the desk with Luigi and let him reteach what you already know. At some point it was like child’s play, seeing how long you could dance around the bomb until it blew up into lovelorn smithereens.

And today you planned on it being no different. Front of the room, head straight, and leg-crossed at the ankles while you spaced out on your teaching assistant’s tantalizing hands. Oh, how darling they’d look wrapped around my neck instead, hurling me into oxygen-lacking delirium while he made me cry for being such a bad student. To prevent yourself from being any more provocative than you were already being, you lowered your eyes to the table in front of you.

The conversation around you continued on without you, vowels and consonants linking together in a pained effort to create muffled and static gibberish while you daydreamed about the man four feet in front of you.

“Yeah, no I get that…I don’t even know why I signed up to be a TA sometimes I still have my own things to work on,” he said, fidgeting with the end of his light-blue collared shirt. “I actually have a paper I’m supposed to be working on.”

He must’ve noticed how quiet you were. Your arms folded across your chest as you leaned and slouched all the way back in your chair, maybe the way your eyes were trained onto the table in front of you. But either way, he made his way over.

He tapped on your table, once, and then twice to grab your attention before holding up a thumb and tilting his head to the side. The question was silent, but loud and clear as you nodded your head.

“You okay?”

Upon seeing your nonverbal confirmation, he mirrored your action and made his way back over to Harrison’s desk. The sounds of chatter and rushed packing filled the room, watching as people gravitated toward one another and began preparing to file out one by one.

“Alright guys, have a good rest of your day. If anyone asks you were here the whole period. If you need help or anything or just wanna chat, stick back” he said.

If you weren’t staring at him so hard, you would have missed it. His eyes flickered over in your direction for a fraction of a second, knocking the wind right out of your lungs.

An invitation. One that you could easily deny or accept without feeling pressured or guilty later. A clever man, he was, something that you caught onto very early into him easing into your days. You learned that he was a computer science engineer, which immediately made sense with the way he detangled the wires in your brain.

Your legs carried you over to the desk before you could even think of a plan, placing yourself before him like he called you with some imaginary whistle.

“I knew you’d notice. Good catch” he beamed, straightening his back a little bit as he leaned his back hips against the edge of the desk. “You seemed spaced today, are you doing okay? You’re usually more…active.”

“Oh yeah I’m okay, I was just a little tired today,” you replied, giving him a reassuring nod. You were lying through your teeth, and a part of you felt like he could possibly sense it with the way he wordlessly stared down at you for a moment before nodding slowly; hesitantly.

“Get some sleep, okay? You can always come to me if you need help or don’t understand something. I’ll try to explain” He nodded, giving you a boyish smile with a light pink dusted on the apples of his cheeks.

“Thanks,” you said, shifting your weight to one leg. “I’ll probably come by during office hours.

I want help reviewing my notes.”

“Nice. I’m gonna be back in here, but I’ll probably come in a bit earlier than four so I can…grade quizzes,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as the realization slowly sunk in.

“Oh, well good luck,” you said, giving him an apologetic smile.

He nodded, a deep and exasperated sigh reverberating from his lungs as a pained smile crept onto his face. He ran his hands through his coco curls, giving you a thumbs up and watching you exit out the door.

You and Luigi’s relationship, or for better words connection, was strictly professional. You barely saw him outside of the days when he wasn’t assisting in Harrison’s class, and if you did happen to catch glimpses of him on campus he was always preoccupied with something else.

Strictly academic and professional.

Right?

What a lack of judgment. The red hot sin and embarrassment that would crowd Luigi’s face whenever you stood too near. He felt almost dirty in a sense; after all, it wasn’t entirely ethical to crush on your “bosses” students.

But when your eyes honed in on him like the only object in the room, picking him apart piece by piece and ripping away each thread of his clothes with your eyes, it was hard not to get a little warm on the nose. Day by day and piece by piece, he could feel himself getting sidetracked with your memory.

So when he leaned back in his chair, staring down at the papers he had only halfway penetrated with red ink and comments, he thought of you bouncing back into the room with your not-so-secret lies of confusion.

The smooth sound of pen ink gliding across paper filled the room, scribbles of minus three and half credit echoing subtly through the empty classroom. He murmured under his breath as he wrote, flipping back and forth

between the rubric and the long pages of text as his eyes slowly began to glaze over.

There was fire burning every inch of his body; lustful and jeering in his ears as he did everything in his power to repent against the thoughts of how gorgeous you would look crying on this desk while you panted from overstimulation. The scandal…the pleasure. The taboo of the situation left him with a bitter and tangy taste on the tip of his tongue as he swallowed.

thump-thump-thump-thump

Your shoes patted the cheap carpet halls as you made your way back into the class, locking your eyes onto a hunched-over Luigi with a pen between his pointer and middle finger. Back and forth, he flicked the pen repeatedly as he took deep breaths in a last-ditch effort to self-soothe.

“Hey,” you murmured, placing your bag down next to the desk and your notebook on the opposite end of his stack of papers. “How’s grading going?”

His eyes jetted upwards, locking onto yours with a small smile. “Horrible!” He started with a contrastingly happy grin. “I’ve hated every second of it. How are you doing this afternoon?”

You stifled a chuckle, pulling your mouth down from the shameless smirk that had snuck onto your expression. Dry, dry-humored man.

“I’m doing okay! Been working on my notes. I suck at taking them, I feel like I never know what’s important to write” you mused, flipping through your notebook until the most recent lecture notes came into view.

You peered over the pages, trying to see if you could see your own answers under his inspection. Your eyes darted over the pages, snooping around names and numbers before he slowly shifted his hand to cover the scores. He let out a small huff of a chuckle, clicking his pen closed before setting the stack of papers to the side.

“Did I do okay? You’re giving me anxiety, Mangione” you joked, pulling up a chair in front of the desk.

He covered his mouth, failing to prevent a smile from creeping on his face as he giggled a little.

Oh fuck.

“You passed, but you’re one of like…five who did by an actual hair. I actually graded yours first cuz I knew you’d be stopping by again. We can go over it now if you want! Unless you wanna do notes first?” He offered, flicking his long and skinny fingers through the many many pieces of paper until he plucked out yours.

You thought about it for a moment, thinking it over in your head. It was kind of hard to focus on anything with him sitting so close…those glossy black-framed glasses sitting just right on his face. And oh my god his slender and large hands—

“Yeah, can we go over the quiz first?” You blurted, leaning to the side of your chair to retrieve your pencil case from the front compartment of your backpack.

“Sure,” he said, placing the quiz in front of you for you to review.

You looked it over, thanking whatever divine force had your back that day for somehow clearing a path for you to even pass this quiz. You were surprised that some of your answers were even correct, shit, you might as well have said you took the quiz with your eyes closed. That’s how gone you were.

“I’m not gonna lie…the quiz was kind of unfair,” he started, his eyebrows shooting up momentarily in amused disbelief. “I wrote maybe 50 percent of this, so I’ll help you with what I wrote, but I cannot help you on Harrison’s part. Sometimes I think we don’t even speak the same language.”

You nodded, letting out a deep sigh before flipping the packet back to the front page and handing it back to him. You knew then and there you were gonna be there for a while, even if your intentions were to just pop by and review fake notes. At least you were spending time together!

He broke everything down piece by piece, watching as you jotted notes down in your spiral notebook and wrote down little tidbits of info along the way. And when he was done, he took a sip of water, leaned forward, and gazed over what you had written in your notebook.

“Huh. Weird, I thought you said you couldn’t take notes?” He chuckled, standing up and walking around the desk to lean over your shoulder. You could feel the warmth radiating off of him; comforting and affectionate like a man raised by gentle hands.

“Two birds with one stone” he chuckled, the sound echoing in the shell of your ear as you fought the urge to squeal and panic like a child denied their lifeline of sugar. “Don’t worry, I’ll still help you go over them.”

“I feel like I did better cuz you watched me take them,” you chuckled, instantly relaxing as he made his way to the long whiteboard, popping open a red marker as he began to jot down the topic, and a few empty bullet points under.

“So this is how I take notes…excuse my handwriting,” he said, jotting down the main point, key details, and miscellaneous info.

He was so shaky. His hands were like a humbug and his mind was taunting his sanity. Your eyes trailed after him, pausing to linger on a specific feature of his before following him again.

It drove him up a wall. He wasn’t even registering the conversation happening between you two as he gave pointers and red-ink examples.

“Oh I have another question,” you blurted, now leaning against the front of the desk to see the board a little closer.

“Yeah? What’s up?” He answered, turning around and leaning against the whiteboard.

“What’s your type? You seem like you like smart girls.”

He paused, putting the cap on the marker before jutting his bottom lip out slightly. He pretended to think about it, processing your bold statement. His heart thumped in his ears, loud and fervent as arteries in his muscles threatened to pop.

He made his way over to the side of the desk, placing his hands down on the oak and leaning forward. He was so close, but oh so far. The once dark and charcoal-brown eyes revealed themselves to be a deep hazel, glimmering with satisfaction and authority.

“Well, I don’t think I have a type per se,” he said, adjusting his readers with the knuckle of his pointer finger. “I just like women with goals and a strong sense of self,” he smiled.

“I have goals,” you murmured, glancing over his features with a newfound feeling of hunger.

“Do you, now?” He mused, tilting his head to the side as he slowly rounded the corner of the desk to stand in front of you.

By now it was beginning to get dark outside. The ember-like orange glow of the various lamps around the room, and the back lights gave their best effort to keep the dimly lit room visible. His heavy hands came to rest next to each of your thighs, the palms of his hands flat on the smooth desk while he stared down at you.

“You’re…adorable” he smiled, propping you up on the desk and watching you closely.

Darkness kissed your features, the soft and lively look of your skin spurred his desire to ravage you whole like an animal. He stood between the gap in your legs, knowing that he wasn’t going to make the first move regardless. He knew he’d lose a lot of respect from Harrison if he kept going, and he knew that you had a lot to lose by sleeping with him.

Fair trade.

He would have expected you to kiss him, make a comment about his glasses, or even squeal and say you can’t do it anymore. But what he didn’t expect —

Was for you to jet your hips forward, rolling them teasingly against his half-hard bulge. His brows pinched together at the fleeting friction, tingles of pleasure shooting through him for a fraction of a second. His eyes were glued onto where you briefly connected before they shot back up to stare into yours, an even mix of disgruntled desperation.

“You…you’re very bold. Very very bold,” he chuckled, gathering your face between his thumb and the remainder of his fingers, squishing the fat of your cheeks until your teeth resisted his strength.

You smiled, a squished and crooked one as he mashed his lips against yours. A brutal, teeth-and-tongue-filled fight for dominance occurred in your mouths as spit and sin were exchanged on this very desk. Horny and rampant like untouched virgins left alone after hours.

You whined in his mouth when he pushed you back, shoving your back flat against the desk and sending papers floating to the floor with the grace of a mother swan. You had no time to adjust to the way he began to consume you, coaxing every meek and subtle sound of pleasure from your mouth as he slid his knee between your legs to nudge up against your achy cunt.

He pulled away, taking a brief intermission for some much-needed air as he slid his readers off the strong bridge of his nose. Red with fury, and pink with lust, his cheeks and nose flared in the faint orange light as he basked in the way your chest rose and fell with each heavy breath.

“Words, c’mon. I know you have them…” he urged, his knee growing more insistent at your crotch, plucking strings of moans and whines from your orchestral lungs.

“Please…need you so bad,” you panted, your hands coming up to your face to conceal the way your eyes threatened to roll to the back of your head.

“I know you need me, that’s why you came to office hours!” He joked with a patronizing grin, his large hand linking around your wrists to pull them away from your face.

“It’s not funny, I want you inside of me!” You whined, fighting the urge to throw a fit when he gave you an imitation of a sympathetic click of his tongue and a condescending little “awww.”

He chuckled, lowering his knee back to stationary before hooking his hand into your jeans, glancing up at you for confirmation. He let out a scowl when you only nodded.

“I didn’t teach you for months for you to not use all the many words I taught you” he warned, slowly withdrawing his hand from your jeans.

“No, no it’s ok! Take them off please” you said, immediately grabbing his wrist to prevent him from withdrawing his hand from you.

He nodded, undoing the button on your jeans and sliding them down to your lower thighs. He took his time fidgeting around with your puffy clit through the cotton of your panties, up and down with the pad of his thumb before experimenting with small and tight circles.

He listened to the way your moans grew in volume, ending in shrill whimpers the longer he teased the sensitive pearl. He chuckled, an amused smile spreading up to his face.

“Alright, I’m sorry, I’m being mean” he giggled, pulling your panties to the side and toying around with the sticky and glossy wetness that glossed your pretty folds.

His middle and ring fingers pushed into you slowly, in and out with languid and almost practiced strokes to that spongy spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. Cosmos aligned, universes collided, and galaxies crumbled before you as he learned the astronomy of your body.

“So tense…you’re never gonna take me if you keep being this tight” he chuckled, picking up the pace with his fingers. “I’m sorry, I’m gonna have to loosen you up a little. I don’t wanna hurt my favorite student.”

You couldn’t understand why he was apologizing then. With his fingers plunging in and out of you so deliciously, the sloshy and obscene noises mingling with your moans of euphoria ushered any thoughts or coherency in one ear and out the other. There was no way you were hearing him right now, and he knew that.

“Stay with me,” he urged, his free hand seeking refuge over your hipbone. “You’re too pretty to have such an empty mind…but don’t worry I’ll teach you again.”

You tightened around his fingers, his knuckles prodding and pleasuring your gummy walls as you attempted to close your legs around his wrist, much to Luigi’s dismay.

“No, don’t do that. You wanted this. You wanted this for who knows how long, and you’re gonna take everything I give you, okay?” He said, the hand that once rested on your hip coming down to hold your knee, prying your legs open.

You whined, your vision going white with snow as your breath caught in your throat— barely hushed cries of his name rushing from your lips as you soaked his knuckles in milky white ecstasy.

“Just like that…mhm, look at me?” he purred, relishing in the dazed and confused expression that washed over your features. But he wasn’t slowing down.

His fingers were still pistoning in and out of you, and the overstimulation began to bite and nip at your sensitive and puffy cunt. It was deliciously painful, tears pricking and rolling down your cheeks as your lips parted in loud moans. You attempted to scoot back, push his hand away, anything. It just wasn’t working.

“Don’t run from it…I’m not done,” he commanded, holding under your leg to keep you tugged in place. “So pretty…” he purred, his eyes transfixed on the sight of your weeping cunt begging for more while you begged for less.

It was like he was hyperfixated on your moans. His ears pressed to hear more like you weren’t directly in front of him, listening carefully to every single sound you made.

You cried, twitched, came, and writhed as he carried on for what felt like hours. Two turned three, three turned four, and four pulled into five as you felt your eyes completely cross and roll into the back of your mind. So far into the dark depths of pleasure, you could still faintly see the ghost of a smirk on Luigi’s lips in the back of your mind.

Any form of coherency was beginning to leave you as the painful euphoria clouded your mind and squeezed the oxygen out of your body. He was everywhere, cooing and. mocking in your ear as he reduced you to your simplest form. Babbles of "I can't take it" and pained whined as he took what he wanted from you.

“I know, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” he purred, an unapologetic grin on his face as he coaxed you into one final orgasm. “I’m done, I’m done. I promise.”

He laughed, this one lacking his usual boyish charm and innocence. This one was mean but warm and loving, like watching a nostalgic home video. He watched you, twitchy and sensitive as he slowly pulled his fingers out of you.

“Good girl, you did so well for me. C’mon, get up. We’re not finished with your notes. If you can show me you understand the material I’ll let you get all of me.”

#luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione x you #luigi mangione fanfic #luigi mangione thoughts #luigi mangione x y/n #luigi mangione x yn #luigi mangione smut #CEO Assassin x Reader #The Adjuster x Reader #FUCK BRIAN THOMSPONN

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hellfirenacht · 12 hours ago

Text

Anomaly Chapter 5

Fic Summary: You can talk to anyone in school with no problem. At least, anyone who’s not named Eddie Munson.

Chapter Summary: You and Eddie make some calls and get to know each other a little more.

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, one-sided enemies to lovers, one-sided pining, miscommunication trope, anxious-ish!Reader, fem!Reader, Reader is not described, no use of y/n

Word Count: 2.4k

Master List

No beta, you all should know better by now.

“You’re old enough to buy your own now, you know. I’m only gonna up-charge you.”

“What? Can’t a girl just buy some smokes from her friend?”

“Right. Friends.”

“Fine, then I’m supporting a local business.”

“What do you actually want, Stacy?”

“I’m just making sure that you two are going to play nice.”

“What the Hell? Shouldn’t you be telling her that?”

“She’s always nice.”

“Right, and I’m the queen of Sheba.”

“Well then, your majesty, just give me my smokes and I’ll be on my way.”

Bev wasn’t too happy that Eddie was going to be coming in an hour and a half later than expected on his Wednesday shift but she waved it off. The Hideout survived without him for god knows how long, the small dive could handle losing a busboy for a few hours on a weekday night.

He sauntered into Ms. Benson’s classroom a fashionable ten minutes late, and a few dollars richer. You were already sitting at a desk chatting with Ms. Benson about who-knows-what before taking his own seat on top of the desk.

If Eddie had to be here, he might as well rebel in his own way. He really would rather be bussing tables and trying to convince Bev to give him extra time on stage than do school services with someone who hated him.

“Nice of you to join us, Mr. Munson.” Ms. Benson said, ignoring the fact that he was on his desk. She pulled out a thick binder and a rolodex that looked like it would fall apart if she didn’t hold it just so. “In here, you’ll find the budget for Spring Day and all of the different vendors and events that we’ve used over the past ten years.”

Being the smart woman that she was, she placed the rolodex in front of you and dropped the binder on Eddie’s lap. He raised an eyebrow and flipped through it casually, as if looking through the Spring Day binder would provide him with secrets to the school that he could use to force Higgins to let him graduate this year.

“There’s a phone in the teachers lounge you can use.” She continued, grabbing her own purse. “Let me know what you come up with on Monday.”

“Wait- are you leaving?” You asked, jaw dropped as Ms. Benson started out of the room. “You’re not gonna help?”

“There’s only one phone. Just get some quotes for vendors. All of the information is in the binder. Just close the door tight when you leave.”

Your mouth was still agape as Ms. Benson left, which was very amusing to Eddie. It was dead silent before Eddie burst out in a maniacal cackle that echoed through the classroom and made you jump. That also amused Eddie.

“Well well, it looks like it’s just us in charge of Spring Day.” He got off the desk and dropped the binder down where he had just been sitting. Eddie leaned over the binder and flipped through it. “I’m thinking evil clowns, adding balloon popping back but with knives, and a petting zoo with snakes and goats.” Eddie turned and grinned wide at you.

“What, no fortune teller to tell you how you’re gonna die a gruesome death?” Your voice was flat, but Eddie could pick up the hint of amusement in your voice which made his grin widen.

“I’m sure we can dress you up in something covered in stars. I’ll sit under the table and shake it. We’ll make a killing!” Eddie laughed.

“A killing? Really?” You shook your head at the terrible joke and flipped through the rolodex with a sour look on your face. Eddie hadn’t meant to make a pun, but if it annoyed you he’d keep it up.

Play nice.

As if Stacy had any say over what happened between the two of you. He barely knew either of you.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to charge for anything, anyway.” you continued, flipping through the cards almost as fast as Doug flipped through long boxes at the comic shop.

“What doesn’t kill Higgens won’t hurt us.” Eddie pressed, not even fully invested in the idea himself. Something about his talk with Stacy just got under his skin, and the only way he could shake it was by getting under yours now.

“I don’t think half of these businesses even exist anymore.” you said to yourself as you kept flipping through the rolodex with your good hand. Eddie sighed and figured you were ignoring him until you continued. “This laundromat shut down last year. I heard it was a front for some mafia and there was a shootout.”

Eddie perked up a little, had that been an attempt at playing along? It wasn’t completely in line, but everyone in town knew that the laundromat had just been flooded from the inside when a pipe burst.

“There’s no mafia in Hawkins.” Eddie said, looking over your shoulder at the rolodex. “Only cults that sacrifice people to the dark forces.”

You stopped messing with the rolodex, and Eddie wasn’t sure if he’d said something wrong. You had apologized before, maybe it was too soon to joke about it?

Eddie was usually good at reading people, but you were harder to understand.

“So, what’s the budget that we’re supposed to be working with?” You asked, changing the subject.

“Three pennies and an expired coupon for Benny’s.” Eddie replied, flipping back to the first page.

“Yeah, that sounds right. I guess there’s no room in the budget when the basketball team needs new jerseys or the cheerleaders need pom-poms.” you rolled your eyes, done messing with the rolodex.

Eddie was a little surprised at the dig towards the cheerleaders, considering your best friend was one. Had been one. Why the hell had she wanted to buy smokes from him today?

The two of you finally got up and made your way to the teacher’s lounge. Ms. Teedee, the art teacher, gave him a half hearted wave as she finished washing her coffee cup. Eddie liked Ms. Teedee, she didn’t give a shit about his reputation. Art and shop were the only classes he had ever done consistently well in, so when he was saddled with a third senior year he decided to re-take art as an easy A.

The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon calling places and taking down numbers. You did most of the talking, but Eddie took charge when you got up to use the bathroom.

Eddie was surprised when you came back, well that you came back. He wouldn’t have been surprised if you had run for the hills and left him alone. But you did come back, two bags of chips in hand. One of them was offered to him.

“Thanks...?” Eddie didn’t mean for that to come out as a question, but it did anyway. How was it that one minute you hated him, but another you were apologizing? You were scandalized to be left alone with him to work on this, and yet came back with food.

He shouldn’t trust it, but he also wasn’t too good for free snacks.

“So, what’s your deal?” Eddie asked, timing his question with you shoving a few large chips in your mouth.

“Huh?” was your graceful reply as you covered your mouth with your hand. He could see that his timing was not appreciated, which made him feel better.

“Your deal. Which of these fine cliques here at Hawkins Hell do you belong to?” Eddie elaborated, spreading his arms as if gesturing to a crowd when in reality he was gesturing to the table the phone was sitting on.

You took a moment to finish chewing, giving him a glare as you finally got the chips down. Okay, maybe Eddie felt a little bad for that, as you had been nice enough to get him a snack.

Play nice.

He was a dungeon master, he wasn’t known for playing nice. He could at least play fair though.

“I don’t belong to anyone.” you said finally, flipping through the binder and not looking at him. “I got in late, made friends with Stacy and... I don’t know. This late in the game, cliques aren’t exactly taking new applicants. Not this close to graduation when everyone has known each other since elementary school.”

Eddie looked at your broken wrist again, looking at all the different signatures. For someone who didn’t belong to any group, you sure were on everyone’s good side.

Everyone had some group they belonged to. That’s how high school worked. The Freaks sat with him, the Jocks sat with their teams, the Science Nerds sat with the science nerds... that’s how high school- no, that’s how the world worked, according to Eddie.

Your response would normally have you tucked away as “new kid” or “freshman” but neither of those fit you. You knew too many people. You hung out with an ex-cheerleader, but you weren’t exactly jumping around with excitement at the last pep-rally. Stacy still dressed like a cheerleader, and was just as nosy as one but you didn’t look popular.

Not that there was anything wrong with the way you looked to Eddie, you just didn’t look or dress like the popular crowd. He could tell you apart from the near identical wave of perms and ponytails.

What was your deal?

When Eddie didn’t respond in an appropriate amount of time for you, you responded with the same question.

“What’s your deal, Eddie?” His name sounded foreign coming from your mouth.

“Huh?” he asked, shoving a chip into his own mouth, mimicking you. You rubbed your face and let out a laugh, to his surprise.

“What’s your deal? Or, I guess what’s Hellfire’s deal?” You clarified.

“Well, you see, it’s a fantasy game-”

“Not a cult?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that.”

“Go on.”

You didn’t interrupt him again as he started explaining the bare basics of the game, figuring that you were just looking for an excuse to stop calling people for a moment. That was fine with Eddie, he’d happily sit here and rant about his favorite game in the teachers lounge, tainting the warden’s space with the game that they tried to hide away from the rest of the inmates.

What he didn’t expect was for you to be listening so intently. You were looking at him, really really looking at him. If Eddie didn’t know any better, and he liked to think that he did, you seemed to be actually interested in the world he was opening up up to you.

His eyes glanced down at your cast, and the curly signature of Chrissy Cunningham shimmered slightly on the underside of your cast. Eddie could barely make out her last name, but he could assume that the glitter gel pen signature belonged to the cheerleader.

That reminded Eddie that, popular or not, you were still in a completely different world than him. One where people actually liked you and didn’t sneer at you for bullshit reasons.

But then why were you looking at him so intensely?

“So you’re playing make believe with dice and if you roll high you can do things and if you roll low you eat shit.” You said, crumpling up your bag of chips.

It was a grossly simplified explanation of the game that Eddie had poured hundreds of hours into.

“Yeah, basically.” At least that had killed a good fifteen minutes.

“And you’re god.” You added, which Eddie did appreciate.

“No, I’m Satan, remember?” He flashed you his most charming smile and you just laughed again.

“You aren’t that bad.” You sounded like you meant that.

“Tell that to my players, they say I’m worse than Satan.” He said with pride.

Your conversation was interrupted by the bell, announcing that any clubs needed to pack up and leave. Eddie took that as your cue that you were done.

You closed the binder and the notes that you two had taken over the past hour and took a deep breath.

“Wait, shit, Mrs. Benson left. What do we do with this?” You asked, motioning to the binder and rolodex. “Do we just leave it here?”

Eddie wouldn’t have thought twice about just dumping it on one of the tables and leaving. He still had his shift to get to, but...

“Come on, we’ll drop it on her desk.” he said, and walked out of the lounge before you could protest.

You caught up to him a moment later, glaring at him for ditching you and leaving you to scramble with your things. Eddie wasn’t sure if he liked you more when you looked like you were hanging on his every word or looking at him with annoyance. Maybe Eddie just wasn’t sure if he liked you. He sure couldn’t tell if you like him at all.

“It’s locked.” you said.

“Barely. Make sure no one’s coming.” Eddie squatted down and pulled out a thin strip of plastic from his coat. He could feel his eyes on him and he looked up at you as you gaped. “Not me, look out for anyone else.” he clarified.

Once you had looked away and down the hall, it didn’t take more than a few seconds for Eddie to jimmy the lock open. He grabbed the rolodex and the binder from you before you knew what was happening.

Eddie had broken into the classroom, dropped the items off the desk, and slipped back out into the hallway in less than a minute.

“How’d you learn to do that?” you asked, following him out towards the parking lot.

Eddie just shrugged. “I’m a man of many talents.”

It was cool outside, the winter weather seemed to finally be on its way out. A small beep signaled you to the sleek car that Stacy drove and you waved at her. Being the good friend that she was, Stacy had offered to drive you home that night.

“I guess, I’ll see you next week.” you said to Eddie.

“Same bullshit time, same bullshit place.” he agreed, watching you hop into the car before heading off towards his own van and drive off.

“Sooooo, how was your date?”

“It wasn’t a date, it was school.”

“Did you make out in the teachers lounge?”

“No, I gave him a hand job in the janitor's closet.”

“The one by the gym, or the one by the science lab.”

“The gym. Smelled worse but at least there weren’t any dangerous chemicals.”

“No, really, tell me what happened.”

“We called different places to get quotes for Spring Day. He also talked about Dungeons and Dragons for fifteen minutes.”

“And then you made out?”

“No.”

“But you wanted to.”

“....Stacy, I’ve never wanted to blow someone more in my entire life.”

Author Notes: Sorry this took so long, I got so brain dead writing this. I really need to visit more of the source material. I love Eddie, but he just hasn't been talking to me much lately. Hopefully when Rise of Hellfire comes out it'll help lol

Tag List:

@eddiemunsonfuxks @kirsteng42 @strangereads @pedroschka @generoustrashpeach

@sheneedsrocknroll92 @cyanfairywren @crocworkships @tomtomslongdong @aphrogeneias

@ghcstpyre @totheforestandtheocean @stevekeeryswife @dreamyyy222222 @ajnerdess

@sp1dyb0y1008 @projectcampbell @emxxblog @thebadbatchfan

@transparentenemypenguin @ghoulsgraveyard @spread-the-hope @exploding-bonbon @paleidiot

@2spock @c14r3v1b3srs @yujyujj @saramelaniemoon @morganlolitta

@veemoon @mrsrdlw @eddieheart @bambibiest @mylovelycrazyworld

@sassidykassidy @cultish-corner @thedoubleexposurephotography @bambibiest @wheels-of-despair

@amieinghigh @hazydespair

#nacht fic #anomaly #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

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mrchaosman · 19 hours ago

Text

Three years of madness inside the palace is over now.

Howdy, happy new year everyone, I hope you're doing great today.

Welp, I just wanted to thank y'all for everything that you gave to me in 2024. It was a good times (and a bad times lol) so, I decided to do something for y'all for the love and happiness that you gave me, but first, let me tell you my story with this community.

Ahem.

In 2021, I was doing, like nothing, just being here, in existence, feeling a little depressed because I had, suddenly and out of blue, my little brother came to me and said: :DUDE, DELTARUNE CHAPTER 2 GOT RELEASED" and I was "Really???!?!??!?!" I opened up YouTube, Typed DELTARUNE chapter 2 and... it really released, like Damn, I never expected that. Later on, I got it on my cousin's phone (his phone is Glitchy is hell) and managed to finish it with him, and it was AWSAOME, and I really enjoyed it and loved it.

In 2022, it was the year that "secret bosses" would be a thing, and the first one that I saw was Lumia. If I remember correctly, I liked them, but not that much, like, they look decent, but still, I still like them.

Then I saw the immortal hydrangea, i believe that immortal hydrangea was the thing that made me believe that the Ch3 secret boss is a flower thing (or a flowey-like fella), I personally loved the it so much.

I also saw Huecycles's deltarune chapter 3 and her secret boss, Halojack, I really loved it a lot. back in the day when I was believing that Mike would be the main antagonist of Chapter 3 (not in a toxic way, I kept that opinion to myself, not telling anyone about).

Zet's Deltarune take was also so cool, i was a big fan of Helal, Occazio, and Billy Chance.

Then I discovered one of the coolest aus that ever existed, DELTARUNE: CHAPTER REWRITTEN, by the amazing and talented Winterer, which we got bangers like BIG BANG and BATTLE AGAINST THE WORLD, and honestly I find it very amazing and well-made, till, Y'know, some terrible has happened, like, The Winterer leaving the au and some other sucky shit, I don't want to go on details, you got the picture.

2023 came, and with it, more and more cooler stuff, and I can't mention anything related to the community without talking about Local h00ligan's DELTARUNE Take that with it, and it bunch of cool guys, Brandal C, Screepto and Fakres, and boy did I loved them, yup, I did, they are so cool, I personally liked Brandal more.

We also got one of the coolest deltarune chapter 3-7 takes, Vision Crew's Deltarune, by the coolest R.V Pine (who has blocked me on Tumblr), we got goobers like Tenna, Anne, Camellia, Hycrisik, Mentle Keeper, and Gonner and they all are amazing.

youtube

This year also marked the birth of the monster that we all know as "Woody Theory" by Spookydood on YouTube, which also leads of the Birth of thousands of "Friend Inside Me" images.

Deltarune: The Chapter in Sans and Papyrus' House, Sockswald, and other things dropped this year

While scrolling in Twitter, I found L1zardart1stre, who helped with some ideas in Deltarune: TCISAPH like Commander Dash, Friendo, and others, I also liked her secret bosses, and she is one of my main inspirations.

Sonic Theory also came out this year, and I really loved it a lot.

One day, while scrolling in Twitter, I found something, a fanart by L1zardart1stre, for a cowgirl holding a gun, I didn't know who she was and who was the made her.

Now I know who...

Tapes, Flowery, Petaly, Rosey the Revenger, and others, they all look very awesome.

However, I wasn't that happy at all. In 2023, I was actually suffering with some sort of mental illness that made me feel miserable in late 2023, and my cope mechanism was to talk to someone, I got tumblr like from long but didn't use it at all, the first person I talked in tumblr was Creepa, then Bluetheartblog (he also blocked me lamo) then I tried to talk to Emihead and Axniety but they also blocked me (I don't blame them at all, tho) and Mercair, Petra, Glitch and Grimm, and others.

And was the end of my merciless DMing spree and my stroy with this community, now, let's move on to the thanking part (I didn't draw anything for some of you, sorry).

Thanks, @creepa-b0t-inc . I'm really grateful for you and being an inspiration for me, I do love your work, and hopefully, one day, I can impress you

Thanks, @mercair . For being an awesome and cool friend and being there for me, and I really hope that you feel better and be happy

Thanks, @glitch-the-artist . I gotta be honest, one of the coolest artists I meet and befriended, and I really enjoy your work (especially Raily Roundup), and I hope you got the respect that you truly deserve.

Thanks, @petra-creat0r . A talented artist and a creative person, I enjoyed your little Fankids and your work. They all are amazing, and I wish you a very pleasant year.

Thanks, @imaginary-regret-608 . I really love your work, they all amazing, your Au are so good and very awesome, and i feel sad for that you don't get much likes, even the fact that your works are so good and well-done, and I hope people see how talented you are.

Thanks, @lostcausegeneralart . Another person who greeted me in this community, Grimm, is like one of the coolest people and friends I have ever known.

Thanks, Static. One of my earlier followers and friends, and despite acting very... immature and other things, but I still grateful for you and everything.

Thanks, @theauking . Despite that we didn't have many interactions, but I am still going to thank you.

Thanks, @sbtorms . I really enjoyed your Aus, and I am looking forward to seeing more of what you are cooking.

Thanks, @dinosaurstirfry . The fact that I saw one of your secret bosses long before i joined the community, you are so cool and amazing.

Thanks, R.v pine. Despite we have some bad interactions and that I was very much annoying, I still like your works.

Thanks, @quevod . Thanks for being an overall support and helpful.

Thanks, @bamthefox , I really don't have much to say, but I really love your goobers (especially the octopus girl)

Thanks, Bob, the coolest, awesome, and greatest friend ever. Sure, our first encounter wasn't that great (especially when I was still whining about it), but I still grateful for your advice and help.

And finally, thanks for @howlnessandresisaak3551 @roxroxtbm @shazos @kittblush @science2048 scrunchbug, Krispi, @huecycles @cheesyjester Boing @sepsis-tank @shrewdoodle @retropobor @marshiemonarch @jazminthegamer @missowo @temfling @cinnamonswirlsshadow Celtuft @uwacat @followerex

I love y'all

Now, time for the fanart.

#Youtube #deltarune #HAPPY NEW YEAR #LATE AS HELL

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bokutosbabe · 11 hours ago

Note

This new event seems so cool!!! Can we get Karasu w/ 🍊 and 🍫

(The orange chocolate addiction definitely hasn’t influenced this request.)

of course !

a karasu tabito chocolate covered orange

જ⁀♡⊹｡° memories i never can escape

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event :)

♡ content — karasu tabito x gn! reader, gn! reader, ex bf! karasu, pining (karasu) , talks of the past, slight feelings coming back?, unrequited love, karasu needed to "focus on his career", set in high school

♡ synopsis — Loving Karasu Tabito once had been hard enough. Loving him again would destroy you.

If someone had told you that Karasu Tabito would reappear in your life after everything that happened, you wouldn’t have believed them.

You’d spent the better part of a year trying to forget him. Trying to forget how things ended between the two of you.

It wasn’t a messy breakup—no screaming, no slamming doors, no vicious words hurled in anger. It was quiet. Too quiet.

Karasu had told you he needed to focus on his career. That soccer was everything to him, and he couldn’t give you the time or attention you deserved. You didn’t argue. You didn’t cry.

You just smiled—softly, sadly—and told him you understood.

And then you left.

It was the kind of ending that didn’t leave scars, but something deeper. An ache that lingered in the quiet moments when your mind wandered back to him.

When you saw his name listed as your partner for the marriage simulation program, your stomach twisted painfully.

You considered withdrawing, coming up with some excuse to get reassigned, but you didn’t.

Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was something else.

Either way, you found yourself standing at the door of the shared apartment, your suitcase in hand, and Karasu Tabito opening the door.

“Hey,” he said, his voice familiar but hesitant.

“Hey,” you replied, stepping inside without meeting his eyes.

The apartment was modern but small, with a kitchen that bled into the living room and two bedrooms down the hall.

“This is...unexpected,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” you said shortly, brushing past him. “It is.”

The first few days passed in a blur of awkward silences and stilted conversations.

Karasu tried to break the ice, cracking jokes and making casual comments, but you weren’t ready.

You kept your distance, throwing yourself into the program tasks and avoiding him as much as possible.

But Karasu wasn’t one to give up easily.

It started with small things.

Like how he remembered exactly how you took your coffee and made it for you every morning without asking.

Or how he insisted on carrying the heavier groceries up the stairs, even when you told him not to.

And then there were the moments when he looked at you—not with pity or regret, but with something softer. Something you couldn’t quite name.

One evening, the two of you were tasked with preparing a mock date night.

“Let’s make it casual,” Karasu said as he cooked dinner, his sleeves rolled up and his hair tied back. “Something low-key, like old times.”

The mention of old times made your chest tighten, but you nodded.

When the table was set, and the food was served, you couldn’t help but smile.

“You’ve gotten better at cooking,” you said, taking a bite.

“I had to,” he replied with a smirk. “Turns out, living off instant ramen isn’t sustainable.”

The conversation flowed easily after that, like it used to before everything fell apart.

Later that night, as you washed the dishes together, he broke the silence.

“I miss this,” he said quietly.

You froze, your hands submerged in soapy water.

“I miss us,” he continued. “I miss you.”

You swallowed hard, refusing to look at him. “Don’t, Tabito. Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

“I do mean it,” he said, his voice firm. “I never stopped meaning it.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. “You left, remember? You chose soccer over us.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I thought I was protecting you from a life where you came second to my career.”

“And what about now?” you asked, turning to face him. “What’s changed?”

“I have,” he said, stepping closer. “I know I screwed up, and I know I can’t undo the past. But if there’s any chance—any chance at all—I want to try again.”

For a moment, you let yourself believe him.

You let yourself imagine what it would be like to have him back in your life, to rebuild what you’d lost.

But then reality set in.

“You haven’t changed, Tabito,” you said softly, shaking your head. “Soccer is still your first love, and it always will be.”

“That’s not true,” he said desperately. “I can make this work. I can make us work.”

But you knew better.

When the simulation ended a few weeks later, you packed your things and left the apartment without looking back.

Karasu called after you, his voice breaking, but you didn’t stop.

Because loving him once had been hard enough.

Loving him again would destroy you.

so many ppl have requested 🍊 and 🍫 recently so sorry if it seems repetitive :)

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

#★ · airybcbyy #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock #blue lock x reader #airy posts #karasu x reader #karasu tabito #tabito karasu #tabito karasu x reader #tabito x reader #bllk karasu #bllk tabito karasu #blue lock karasu #blue lock tabito karasu #airy answers asks :)

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synnamon-hearts · 1 day ago

Note

want reader to ride josh in the car real rough ☹️

Okay so I actually believe that the truck we see in the remake is actually Josh's truck since Chris canonically took the bus to Blackwood Pines, so I'm going with this. 👀

NSFW down below!

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Josh prioritizes your sex life, okay? Let's just get that straight. So it's pretty expected that he would have designated car fucking spots. One out on an old highway, one in a forgotten road in the woods somewhere, a spot at the very back of the drive in where nobody else parks. He has this figured out beforehand so there's more time for fucking when the planning is already done.

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

His glove compartment is full of everything you need. I'm talking condoms, lubricant, a toy or two, even water and snacks for afterwards. And he definitely has a big, warm blanket in the back. This comes in handy when it's cold out or you two decide to be extra adventurous and have some fun in the cargo bed. It's called a bed for a reason, after all. And he loves laying in the back and watching the stars and he cuddles with you afterwards.

But one of the perks of fucking in a truck is that most of the time, you have to ride him. Mmm, and ride you do. When you place both hands on the seat behind his head for leverage as you fuck him, ahhhh fuck, he adores it. Because it pushes your tits up just right and gives him the best view when you're fucking him.

Mmmm, just imagine the steam collection on the windows from the heat you two share when you're fucking him, or how his head falls back against the headrest as he watches your form bouncing on his aching cock. The way his lidded eyes watch in awe at how well you do it, flawlessly as though you were made for his cock. Oh, and place your hand on the window Titanic style to leave some prints as well. Ahh, he loves it!

#until dawn #until dawn josh #josh washington #josh washington x reader #josh washington smut #synnysrequests #synnysheadcanons #synnysimagines #synnysthots

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everlastingdreams · 3 days ago

Text

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 37

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: Sins Of The Flesh

Notes: If It's too much, skip to the bottom part past the ~~~~~

!!!Special Warning for this chapter: Smut: Oral F/M recieving. Manual Stimulation F/M recieving. Scent-kink (yup). Some spicy talk.!!!

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn. Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter: 37/47

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Your mind came to a stop and took seconds to even try to find a response to that brave confession. He was so clearly nervous to speak of this, so worried he had blundered and ruined all.

Your response came, albeit delayed, “I was waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to tell me.”

He pushed the question out, “Is it common to think of it often?”

There was a hint of embarrassment in his voice. Did he truly fear there was something wrong with him for feeling desire?

Your hand caressed his chest. “More common than people might confess to. What has been going through your thoughts?”

Two seconds passed before he leaned in and quietly told what had been filling his daily thoughts. “I want to make you come undone, to see you like that again… Quivering from pleasure, my name rolling off of your tongue when you moan. The scent of your wetness putting me at your mercy.”

“You can smell…” You had forgotten how to breath normally, suddenly feeling far warmer, heart racing. Were your legs trembling or was it your heart beating so hard it shook your bones?

His stubble grazed your cheek while he whispered the confirmation that his heightened sense of smell was that strong. “Yes. I can.”

The scent was enticing and hit a deep instinct within him. He would never forget it, even just the memory of it shot lust into his being.

It had you flustered. “I’m not… not right now.”

He was boldly suggestive. “You could be.”

That bawdy comment left you speechless, almost did a small stunned laugh escape you but you covered your mouth to muffle it. His cheeks tinted a bit at his own bold comment. Still, you could read the mischief from his eyes and quickly tried to get out of his reach. That ended with with him wrapping you into his arms and pulling your back against his chest. The laugh escaped you, no matter how much he tried to hush you before it would wake half the inn.

“Shhh.” he chuckled, just a hint of hidden embarrassment in his tone again. “The walls are thin here.”

“I’m sorry.” you snorted another, quieter, laugh. “I am guessing that means you are not comfortable enough to bed me here, where others could hear it?”

It made him nervous to even think of copulating where others could possibly hear. That bed looked anything but quiet, it had seen a lot of use in it’s lifetime. He would be nervous enough as it is.

“Not here.” He proposed a solution, “Another way? As we were in Gramaire.”

You turned in his arms to face him. “You want me to help you seek your relief tonight?”

He would not deny himself of it tonight. “Let me learn it all, teach me all the ways.”

“Well then…” your hands grazed down over his chest to his abdomen. “Come here and let me make sure you are not aching anymore.”

That touch of innocence still in him made it irresistible not to make him a ruin by tending to his carnal needs. His breathing instantly quickened when you started to kiss him whilst reaching down for his groin. He was letting it happen, trusting that you knew what you were doing. You had never been this forward while touching him, rubbing him lightly through the fabric of his trousers. He held on tight, leaning into your form as he snaked a hand into the back of your hair. A slow deep kiss was gifted upon your lips and they parted when his tongue asked for access. He let you guide him and taste him, a lesson that was done with the utmost attention. He let out pleasant sounds the longer you caressed his groin.

You smirked against his lips. “It seems like I got your attention.”

He gave you a rougher scolding kiss for that jest, but you broke your lips free from his.

It was better to ask openly so it would not startle him. “Would you like my mouth on you?”

He blinked, confused at what that meant considering your mouth was on him just a second ago before you stole it away again.

A brush of your hand over his groin again. “On you.”

It clicked right away then, he didn’t fully know how to respond.

He had heard of this, of course he had. But he did not know the details of it. Yet, the idea that you were proposing to use your mouth on him had piqued his interest.

His thumb touched your lips. “Your mouth…”

You watched his reaction carefully. “Have you heard of it?”

He gave a slight nod. “The paladins made comments of the sort.”

You gently rubbed him a bit more. “May I?”

The more he was stimulated, the more eager he grew for friction. He put a hand over yours and kept it on his groin, a signal to keep going that he wouldn’t have dared to give earlier.

He wanted this, he needed this. His body was heating up, his hips grew restless, that pleasant pressure was building in his lower self. And then there was the view of you in that chemise that had instantly caused a heat to spread into his abdomen. He needed this. He needed you.

You reassured him, “I want to try that for you. I promise I will be careful.”

He could still hardly believe what was being offered. “You will do such an act for me?”

You couldn’t help but sound a little daring. “Do you think you can handle it?”

He loved that coy smile. Loved the spark of mischief in your eyes. He needed to be confident… he wanted to be confident…

He took on that dare without hesitation. “Kneel down.”

Your eyes had widened at the request. The haze of lust in his own as he looked at you made it so easy to oblige. Still, there was a sudden change in his demeanor that you hadn’t really expected, an increase of confidence you thought would take a while for him to get. You knelt down on the ground and looked up at him, putting a hand on his thigh. An array of things had their presence in his eyes, intrigue and desire, firmness and gentleness. It was the darkened gaze he bestowed on you that made you nervous.

He cupped your cheek, making you look up at him, he touched your bottom lip, pushing the tip of his thumb against your mouth a bit. “Show me?”

You could sense that he was trying to be more confident, he was hiding his self-consciousness under the mask of it.

His thumb slid gingerly into your mouth. You realized he wanted to feel an example of what he could expect, gently you sucked on his digit to give him an idea. It didn’t last long, he withdrew his thumb and graced over your lips with it. He knew you had seen how his trousers were restraining him, like this you were at the perfect height to notice. He looked around himself for a moment, making the decision before your very eyes.

“Do you want me to still your ache?” Your question made his attention snap down to your face again.

He cupped the side of your head, thumb caressing your cheek. “Yes.”

That was all you needed to hear to start working at his trousers. His gaze constantly moved from you, to all that was around him.

Any fear of blundering faded to the back of his mind. All that truly mattered was the woman on her knees, willing to grant him this generous act. He was safe in your hands, he trusted you.

Before you freed him from his restraints, you rubbed him through the fabric of his trousers, warming him up further. He closed his eyes, his forehead creased at the carnal frustration it build up in him. It lasted a while, you loved to see how pent up he got. When softly kneading at him he drew in sharp breaths, his mouth opened just a little.

You slowly freed him, placing one light kiss on the tip, teasing by breathing hotly on him. A length and girth that would surely be interesting to get more acquainted with. Your mouth enclosed around him and he let out a very relieved sound.

“So warm…” The comment fell out of him as he shuddered.

Hot. Wet. All around his aching member that needed little encouragement to be at full hardness. The sensation of it was one thing, but to know that the one he loved was tending to him was what send his mind into a daze. An act of worship he did not believe himself to be worthy of, and still you made him feel like he was.

With a hand on his hip, you began to work on stilling his ache. His fingers scratched softly at your scalp, he let you set the pace and how much you took of him.

You could hear him struggle to take air into his lungs properly and spoke soothing words, “Breathe, Lancelot.”

He took the advice, doing his best to take in deep breaths. You tested and searched for what and how he liked it. He would not last long, you could tell. He was careful, holding control over his hips as they instinctively wanted to move forward into the sensation. The sounds he tried to swallow down, the squeezing of his hand on your shoulder, the changing of his breaths, it all came to an end sooner then he might have wanted it too. A warning was given by him, but you were determined to let him experience it fully, swallowing what you could when he spilled. A low shaking moan ran through his lungs into the air. He was trembling, using your shoulder for support to keep himself standing. The stimulation of your mouth had stopped, you held his hips to ensure he was steady. He stretched his neck, tilting his head back, quietly catching his breath. The walls were thin and he was trying his very best to keep any noise down. While letting him come down from his height of pleasure, you admired him for a moment discreetly and then gently stored him back into his trousers. He was caressing your head, pads of his fingers massaging your scalp in gratitude.

You enjoyed the feeling of it. “Good?”

He could only hum, still overwhelmed by what had rushed through his body. You got off of the ground and began to undo the belts that held his jerkin closed. He was quick to tilt his head down again and look at what you were doing.

“You’re staying here, right?” You saw him nod. “Good. Then let’s get you prepared for bed.”

He could barely keep track of his thoughts. “My weapons.”

Oh, that was right. Taking that jerkin of without taking of the belts first would not be simple. But you had thought that loosening up the jerkin would help him with his breathing.

“Sorry.” You started at the belts. “I thought opening your jerkin would help you breathe better after that.”

A small boyish smile. “It is not the leather that caused it.”

You could hear the approval laced in his voice and evaded his gaze. The belts came off and you hanged them on the foot of the bed. He took off his cloak, handing it to you to place it there as well. By the time you turned around he was behind you and your elbow bumped into him.

He gingerly collected your hands and put them back on the belts of the jerkin. “Now then…”

A quiet giggle escaped you at that. Of course you obliged and worked through the belts, taking of the jerkin. He took the leather from your hands and tossed it onto the bed. Determination set in his eyes, his breathing was calm and deep. He took you by the elbow and gently steered you to sit down on the bed right in front of him.

Your curiosity grew instantly. “What now?”

His gaze had fallen right into the neck of your chemise for a second too long, then he knelt down in front of you. “What that woman said to me. You heard it?”

Your mood threatened to turn at the memory. “I heard.”

“It did make me think of it.” he said.

You hoped you had misheard. “Pardon?”

It took him a second to understand his blunder. “I did not mean-” Panic set into his eyes. “Not with her!”

Your eyes were widened, a sigh of relief fell out. “Gods… my heart.”

He sighed at his ill-choice of words. “Let me explain myself to you.”

His fingers grazed your bare ankles, suspicious because they had been covered by the chemise. He trailed up his hand, curving it around your lower leg, moving it so that the hem of your chemise was riding up.

You gripped the edge of the bed in anticipation. “Lancelot?”

He hinted at what was coursing through his thoughts, “There is only one that I wish to kiss the way that woman alluded to.”

“The only one you would kiss like that…?” you processed.

His question fell out so quick, “Will you let me?”

The fact that he did not ask if that was what you wanted, but instead asked permission, told that he had an unspoken interest for it. His sense of smell was more attuned than yours, had he already picked up on the change in your scent? Was that why he was interested?

“Yes.” you answered.

The chemise was lifted higher, to your thighs. He brushed his bottom lip over your knee, kissing it warmly. He got closer and you instinctively opened your legs to make room for him. It was hard not to feel self-conscious and vulnerable with him between your legs. An intimate and fragile moment that displayed trust. Feeling him touch your bare skin was awakening the ache for him. He moved slowly, mouth never truly lifting from your skin as he tended to it. His fingers teased at your thighs not long before his mouth arrived there. An oddly ticklish sensation ran through you, having him so close and intimate made you want to keep the chemise where it was for coverage. He moved your hand out of the way when it went for the chemise and began to kiss your upper leg, squeezing the back of it in his hand. A whimper fled your lips when his mouth touched your inner thigh, the way he trailed his lips had changed. He kneaded at your soft flesh and slid his hand up to stop just before reaching your rear. Gods, you struggled not to feel self-conscious when he explored you with such vigour. You decided to lay back on the bed, he made you scoot your hips closer to the edge.

A content sigh. “Your mouth is warm.”

His caressed the back of your thigh. “I have yet to correct an imbalance.”

You melted into the feeling of him touching you. “And that means?”

His thumbs dared to push the hem of the chemise further up your thighs. “You have put yourself on your knees and gave me pleasure. I will not rest tonight until I hear my wife moan.” His hand traveled up, under the chemise and right where it needed to be to start that task. “We have more time than we had in Gramaire, dawn is not our enemy. I will take my time with you tonight.”

The scent if your arousal was present and warned him long before he got near it. One day he would catch the scent and grow hard in the most inconvenient time, he just knew it. He saw you tilt your head back on the bed when he grazed his thumb through your wetness, searching and finding the right spot you had taught him to focus on. He couldn’t stop kneading at your thigh, but held back from doing the same with your rear. There was time, time to warm you, time to learn what brought pleasure. The scent of you filled his lungs, he withdrew his hand only for a moment, to take in the scent, to taste your arousal off of his fingers. Was it strange to taste it? Perhaps. But that one taste was enough to know that he wanted to taste it right from the source.

He returned to manually stimulating you whilst his mouth traveled up your thighs. Too engulfed in the sensation, you did not fully realize his intent until his hot breath had replaced his fingers. The first touch of his mouth had you jolt in surprise, and him holding you in place by the hip. He kissed you, using his bottom lip to taste your arousal. The warm breath on you mixed with the lack of friction was torment. He did not know, you could not expected him to just know.

You needed to tell him, to ask for what you wanted. “Lancelot?”

A very content sounding, “Hmm?”

It took courage to say it. “It would feel very good if you used your tongue or fingers while you do that.”

It was as if he had been waiting for permission, he did not hesitate. He was tasting you slowly, tongue moving carefully where your ache was building. He had a hand on your lower abdomen, a signal to stay as you were.

“I should have done this in Gramaire…” he mumbled to himself, quietly groaning in contentment.

“Yes…” you agreed. He moved a little, just right, and you couldn’t prevent the request from spilling out of you. “Kiss me there…”

He had not a single objection.

Finally he could taste it, he could fill his lungs with the scent that made desire tighten his abdomen. He had grazed his nose over it, then did as you had requested of him.

You didn’t think he would be so eager, but he was quick to engage in the task. He gave one tug at your hips to get you even closer. On his knees he served you, letting his hands wander over your most intimate places. You laid down on the sheets, grasping at them to get a hold on something until he reached out and laced a hand with yours.

He did enjoy hearing the set of orders that spilled from your lips. ‘Right there’, ‘stay’, ‘keep going’. He loved how you tried not to clench his head between your thighs at the sensation his actions evoked in you. The sound of his name falling from you now was all the encouragement and reward he needed. And his favorite thing to hear was undoubtedly ‘Please, don’t stop’, a request he happily obliged to. His body was powerless against the stimuli his mind received like this. He was hardening again and just enjoyed the warm pleasurable pressure that build in his groin.

You whimpered when unable to moan too loud. “Please.”

He hushed you. “Shh… let it come to you, Sweetheart.”

Manually he continued to urge you to your release. A few circling motions of his thumb and the tightness in your core was reaching it’s peak. He knew you were close and started to slide his index finger through the wetness, grazing over your entrance in a teasing manner. It was what caused your unraveling to hit. You squirmed, trying to muffle your moans in the sheets while he kept stimulating you until the last shock went through your body.

Your eyed were still pressed shut when you felt the bed dip, he crawled onto the bed and hovered above you. You were still dazed when he lowered himself unto you and began to shower your neck and collarbone with the attention of his lips.

He scolded himself for briefly considering this inn a proper place to consummate his marriage. But he could not help thinking about being between those warm thighs, in those loving arms and sinking himself inside the mess he had just made. A selfish fantasy, a bad place and time. It would not aid his performance in the future if he were heard or caught like this in the midst of the act.

His fierce display of affection prolonged the feeling running through you. And then when he moved against you a little, you became aware that his body had recovered from tending to him earlier, his hardness was against your leg. You moved further back onto the bed to be comfortable and he followed that movement.

“You’re hard again.” you commented softly.

His teeth grazed your jaw gently before he sucked at the skin there. “I cannot help it.”

Again his hand disappeared under your chemise, this time not slow but right to where he intended for it. It felt so natural to continue. You were still sensitive and told him to start slow again, he obliged. You loved the intimate embrace, the slow kissing, the weight of him on you. Your lips were pampering his neck and jaw. It all build up to the second chase for pleasure. After only minutes to recover, he was back to the task of pleasing you. You had snaked your hand into his trousers to palm him, slowly stroking him while he did the same to you. But it was the feeling of his fingers grazing at your entrance that forced a gasp out, you could feel him use your wetness for lubrication on them, and your body reacted with anticipation.

He locked eyes with you. “May I feel you?”

You needed no explanation when he grazed at you again. “Yes.”

He watched your reaction. “Tell me if it hurts.”

Only after you nodded did he proceed. His index finger breached what had been forbidden for him for so long, your back arched. He slid his digit inside with care, inch by inch, feeling you writhe in response to it. The angle of it felt good, and it was an overwhelming feeling to finally feel a part of him so connected with you.

He stroked slowly inside, feeling your arousal coat him to the knuckles. Feeling you writhe restlessly under him. He could see you try to keep your moans to a low volume.

He announced his middle finger, the wetness made it easy to join his digits together into your warmth. You had put your free hand over your mouth to keep yourself from letting everything in the vicinity hear how heated he had made you. When he leaned in closer, you grabbed him firmly and pulled him to your lips. With a demanding kiss you let him know what you desired. The more he noticed your lewd responses, the less he held back. He moved his digits in a steady pace, pumping them at the angle you so craved and in return you pumped him in the same rhythm.

He leaned in, breathing into your ear. “Does that feel good?”

“Hm hm.” You were a mess.

“Good.” He smirked against your ear. “You become so wet for me…”

How could he still make you flustered while doing this? Why was it so titillating to hear how heavy and deep his voice had gotten?

“Gods.” A moan fled your lips, you pressed them shut.

His thumb began to circle against you again, his fingers sinking deeper into you. “Not ‘Gods’,” he tsked with a smirk, “You know my name. Use it.”

You grabbed hold on his shoulder when feeling your peak nearing. “Lancelot- I’m…”

He hushed you and you couldn’t believe how that slight arrogance was making you even more heated.

“Are you imagining it is my cock?” His whisper was right into your ear, followed by the admission. “I am.”

You locked eyes with him, watching him let his gaze travel down your body and back up again. The sound of his fingers sinking themselves inside was making your cheeks burn.

But he enjoyed it all, the sound, the feeling and the mess you became as a result. “Stroke me a little faster, Sweetheart.”

You gave a nod and changed the pace of your hand, his previous release was what now made it easier for him to hold back longer.

He could tell that his words had a positive effect on you. Interesting.

“One day I will have you.” he purred into your ear with confidence. “I promise I will have you.”

It was pushing you right to the edge. “Lancelot…”

He continued to arouse you further, “It will be my cock, and not my fingers, coated in your slickness.”

You were whimpering, clenching around his fingers every few seconds already. “Lancelot, please…”

The calmness in his voice was astounding, as if he was truly trying to get an answer out to learn more about it, “Is this what I need to do for you? Sink myself into you, feel your hold on me…” His fingers sank deep then withdrew, only to insert quicker than expected to the knuckles. “Would you fit around me?”

You could only nod, a desperate noise forced it’s way out.

“Yes?” He thumb circled over you a few times, then he pumped his fingers again. He lowered himself, supporting his weight on his elbow, feeling your chests meet in their desperate efforts for air. The closeness took it to another height. Your knees moved to clench his hips. Unbelievable that he was using this moment to draw out answers and information. Ridiculous how well it worked to bring you close to unraveling, just because you loved to hear how intrigued he was growing towards it. Feeling him move against you with each pump of his fingers worked wonders to imagine it was indeed his cock. He was starting to breathe harder, he was close too.

“Moan for me, Little Ember. Let me hear you.” he spoke into your ear.

It was bringing you the verge of despair, the feeling inside had gotten so strong you couldn’t lay still. Moaning came effortlessly.

He hushed again, “Shh… Let it come.”

He lured the height of pleasure out of you with each stroke of his fingers, gaze gliding of your hazy eyes and over your heaving chest.

“Faster…” his eyes fell shut. “Please…”

You tightened your hold on him, pumping him, feeling him swell and throb.

He brushed his lips to your temple and it was the last thing your body needed for the coil to snap inside. Your release hit hard, a cry forced it’s way out, and the feeling did not dissipate quickly because he chose to kiss the moans of relief right off of your lips to silence them. Your fingers had to be digging into his shoulders, he relished in it. You couldn’t help but clench his hips between your thighs as the feeling coursed through your being. He lowered himself, took over from your hold on him and for the first time in his life he was able to break free of the mental barrier he had when it came to handling himself. He moaned into your shoulder and only needed to stroke himself a few times before spilling unto your thighs. Your name fell as a moan from his lips as he stroked every last drop of him out. All was quiet when he laid his head down against your shoulder while both enjoyed the afterglow. You played with his hair, feeling your eyelids getting heavier. There was always tomorrow to wash up, it was far too comfortable to get out of bed again.

“What did you do to me… gods…” your fingers were entangled in his sleeve.

His answer was a forbidden thought spilling from his mind. “Anything you want…”

Everything was entangled, the sheets, you and him. The moon’s light was on his hair, the mark of the Church had long since been overgrown by it, and you noticed that he must have cut it not long ago with how the ends looked. Had he used a dagger to do so? It was fascinating to start noticing things that could be so easily missed.

“You cut your hair?” you spoke softly.

“I have to. It grows quickly.” his voice was as quiet as yours.

Your heart had calmed down. He moved away just long enough to take of his shirt and simply put it on the end of the bed. He laid down, facing you and hooked an arm around your form to keep you close. His breathing was calm and deep, those hooded eyes had grown weary.

It was a whisper. “Your stubble and mustache never seem to grow.”

He struggled to keep his eyes open. “I prefer to keep it this way. Did they bother you when I…?”

“Not at all.” you smiled.

He was glad to hear it. “Old habit, to have it like this. Father Carden wanted all to be presentable. I was one of the few that was.”

You couldn’t help but smile at how ‘presentable’ he looked now. “I believe that. It’s no wonder those women were staring at you, you’re very handsome and look after your appearance.”

“Women?” he frowned a bit.

Had he truly not noticed it? “The table of women where that woman came from that plopped into your lap.”

A light chuckle fell. “You are still upset with her.”

“To put it lightly.” you mumbled.

“I did not notice them staring.” he stated. “I did notice the table in the corner where three men kept looking over at you. I went to find you outside when I thought one of them had followed you, but he was still in the inn when we walked back inside.”

“At least none of them fell into my lap.”

“No. Someone groped your rear.”

You hummed. “And unfortunately it wasn’t the one who I’d wanted it to be.”

His eyes landed on yours, trying to read them. He saw you grin at him, cocking a daring brow.

You feigned innocence then. “But you are too proper and sweet to do that. Aren’t you?”

Not two seconds later he made you take back that statement when he grabbed a hold on your rear, a firm hold that took you so off-guard that a gasp forced it’s way out of you. Your fingers dug into his shoulder. “Lancelot!”

He couldn’t resist not giving it a small squeeze now that he had the chance. “Let us not question my devotion to proof that thought wrong.”

You cupped his jaw and connected your lips with his, a slow deep kiss all whilst he caressed your behind. You hooked your leg over his, intertwining yourself with him.

He was the one to break the kiss, smiling. “Are you trying to climb into my lap again?”

“You already had someone in your lap today.” you jested.

He shook his head at the jest. “I prefer the Ash Woman in the chemise that has slipped down her shoulder.”

It made you look, the neck of the chemise had indeed slipped down and bared your shoulder. You wanted to adjust it but he hooked the tip of his index finger under it to prevent it. His finger traced your shoulder, over your collarbone and down to your cleavage. He laid his head down on the pillow, tips of his fingers lightly dancing over the spot.

“Are you content?” you quietly asked him and hoped he would know what you were referring to.

His eyes locked on yours, searching them for a moment. “‘Content’?”

You swallowed down your nerves. “With… what we just did.”

There was a slight arch to his brow, a characteristic of him when he was nervous to tread on matters that were still new to him. “Can you not feel the answer still on your thighs?”

You smacked his chest light and playful. “That is the answer of your body, I am asking for the answer of your mind.”

That boyish smile settled on his lips. “I could never imagine a dream that could match this. I am content. Are you?”

Your fingertips traced his lips. “Very. No one ever kissed me the way you did earlier, I would have come undone by your mouth if you hadn’t stopped.”

He was genuinely curious, “Would you like that?”

You were quiet for a moment, taken aback by how forward he could be sometimes, then nervously chuckled. “I am processing the knowledge that a man raised as a monk just propositioned me like that.”

Almost did he tell you to just lay down on your back and allow him to taste you again, more and longer, until you trembled in bliss at the mercy of his lips. He had spend a life serving a God who would cast him out, spending the rest of his days serving his lover was much more rewarding.

His confidence was growing. “Say it… Say it, and I will lift your skirt again to tend to you. I will serve your desire.”

A tempting offer, but it was obvious that he was tired, not a surprise after the exertion. “You overexert yourself too often, my love. You have pleased me enough for tonight, the only thing I wish for is that you take some rest for yourself.”

The sweet words had it’s effect on him still, his intention was clear to be read from his eyes when he wanted to grab hold on your waist. You tsk-ed him, reprimanding him with your eyes for trying. He yielded, abandoning the thought to keep the both of you awake a while longer.

“Rest.” you whispered, laying down comfortably beside him.

He was grateful for it, he didn’t stop tracing your skin with his fingertips until sleep pulled him under. Born from the gods of the Fey, he indeed looked divine as he slept. Softened features, steady breathing, that arm around you. You prayed to the Hidden that they would allow you to have a long life with him, that you would have moments like this to experience again. You nested yourself against him, kissing his temple a few times, then let sleep carry you away.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

You woke early, not long past dawn. He still slept. You washed the remainder of the night from your skin and got dressed. While putting on fresh trousers and a shirt, you noticed something laying under the bed, at the foot of it. Kneeling down, you plucked the small shiny thing up from the floor. A ring, gold and engraved with a swirly pattern. You put it on the table next to the washbasin and continued to put your bodice on. Someone had to be missing the piece of jewelry and you debated on leaving it in the room for them to find or hand it to the innkeeper and hope they knew who it could belong to. Lancelot stirred, groaned at the sunlight that showed no mercy on his eyes when he opened them.

You were just putting on your boots. “There’s still more time to sleep. Don’t mind me.”

His eyes fell on you. “You’re dressed?”

You chuckled. “Well, yes. I’m afraid a chemise will not hold up well against the weather.”

“Come back to bed.” He was certain it was nowhere near noon by where the sun was.

“Maybe after I’ve spoken to the innkeeper.” you grabbed the ring from the table.

He sat upright, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “Why do you need to speak with him?”

Your satchel was still on the floor by the bed and you threw it on. “I found a ring on the floor while you were asleep. I’m going to ask if someone might be looking for it.”

His eyes snapped to you, alert now. “A ring?”

You pointed to where you had found it. “It was under the bed. I know we could trade it for something, but I’d be upset too if I lost my bracelet and someone decided to keep it instead of trying to give it back. I’m sure the rightful owner will come back to the inn for it.”

He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, feet on the ground. “Show me what you have found?”

You obliged and put the ring in his hand, letting him take a look, then noticed how pale he had suddenly gotten. “Are you alright? You don’t look well. Maybe you should rest a bit longer.”

He seemed distracted. “What were you going to do with it?”

“I’m going to hand it over to the innkeeper. Someone might return for it.” you said.

He shook his head. “No.”

It made you frown. “We have coin now. And this ring could be important to someone.”

You took it back and stubbornly headed for the door with it.

He was up on his feet in an instant and caught your lower arm, blurting out, “It is yours.”

That wasn’t true. “No, it’s not.”

He gave you quite a look. “Yes. It is.”

Your voice got ridiculously quiet. “What do you… why do you say it’s mine?”

“Have you forgotten your lesson already?” He plucked the ring from your fingers and made you look inside the band.

Carefully you took the ring from him between your fingers and noticed the engraving on the inside too. It was the first thing he had taught you to read in the language of the Fey, ‘Little Ember’. It was strange to fear wrongly assuming that he got you this ring, you needed him to explain, to tell you that this was indeed what you thought it was. Instead he was silent, you couldn’t really read his eyes now, he was back in the hurricane of his restless thoughts.

It must have fallen out from behind the sheath of his short sword last night. He had been distracted, too eager to be unburdened by the weapon belt. Your response to the ring was not what he had expected. It should have been given by him, not found on the floor of an inn. This was not how he had wanted it to happen, and you weren’t smiling…

“You do not like it…” It was a statement.

It had rendered you speechless.

He composed himself, accepting the situation and thinking of solutions, “We can trade it, or sell it for one you will love.”

You held up the ring a little, struggling to form a sentence. “Why…? Why did you….?”

He quietly explained it upon seeing the confusion in your eyes, “The chance to experience our wedding was stolen from us, I wished to at least do one matter correct. When I went to Ravenwick at night, I searched for a merchant who sold jewels. A gold coin open’s every merchant’s door even in the night. I saw this ring, asked to have it engraved.”

The engraving cost him more. He was fortunate the merchant made not a problem of having a patron who was Fey as long as payment was good.

You swallowed hard. “It’s a wedding ring… you got me a ring…”

He saw a mixture of emotions come down over your features. “I chose it because I believe it has the same sort of gem that sits in your bracelet.”

With shaking hands, you inspected the ring again, having failed to notice the small round gem set in the band. This time you paid more attention to it’s fine delicate details, to the thoughtful engraving and stone that matched your bracelet. It wasn’t until he touched your arm that you realized tears were staining your cheeks. You wanted to tell him it was alright, that you were just feeling a little overwhelmed, but instead a sob came out. He apologized. He apologized. You had grabbed him and pulled him into your arms not a second later.

He didn’t know what to make of it. Not until you cupped his face faster than you had ever done and kissed him so fierce that the air was out of his lungs that very moment. You did not stop, did not hold back, and he relished in that feeling.

You heard him make a sound and worried that your strong hold on him was hurting him. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He grabbed you by the back of your neck and brought you back to his lips.

He steered you by the hips to the wall just beside the door, kissing you with the same vigour, stopping only because people were walking past the door outside.

“Do you still wish to be rid of the ring?” He could guess the answer.

You were firm on that. “Over my dead body.”

“See if it fits?” He plucked the ring from your hand and took your hand in his. “I had to guess. We could go and have it altered in the city when visiting the market.” He slid the ring on your finger. “How is it?”

“It fits.” you said.

He tilted his head a little, eyes narrowing. “Does it fit well?”

You had to admit the truth, “It’s a little tight.”

To him it was not a hard problem to solve. “We will have it altered. Store it in your satchel, don’t let it hurt your finger.”

It was a wise idea, you put it in the satchel to keep it safe. “You should get ready for the day too, we can’t stay in this room forever.”

“We have until noon.” He smirked, getting closer and cupping the side of your neck. Obviously he had something on his mind to spend the remaining time on.

Chuckling fell from your lips. “Gods, Lancelot!” You stepped away from him. “Wash up. Get dressed. Try to be done by noon.”

There was a small twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Since when do you command me?”

You fired your risque jest, “Since I know that you take commands well in a bedroom.”

He scoffed, but it turned into a chuckle. Even after last night a pink flush spread near his nose.

It fell from your thoughts, “Gods, I love that.”

He eyed you inquisitively. “Hm?”

You got closer, cupping his cheek, and touched your thumb where his skin had flushed a bit. “When you blush, I love to see it. It’s endearing.”

He looked away, biting the inside of his cheek to try and stop the embarrassed smile. Pointing it out only seemed to make him blush more.

You brushed your lips to the marking that ran across his cheek. “I love you.”

His eyes snapped to yours again, blinking two times rapidly. He slowly took hold of your wrist and pressed his lips to the inside of it, closing his eyes whilst he did. “And I you.”

More people were waking up, you could hear them pass by the room. He let go of your wrist, went to the washbasin and took off his shirt.

You went to the wardrobe to take out fresh linen for him to use. Picking out a large linen cloth to dry himself. “There’s linen in here to wash and dry with.”

You lost all knowledge of language when turning around and seeing that he was undoing the cords of his trousers. A hot flush came up into your face and you swiftly turned around.

He did not even notice your reaction at first, it was the sudden silence that alerted him. The reaction had seemingly amused him. “Are you concerned to see me wash a part of me?”

You did not turn around and ignored how he was clearly going to tease you about this. You heard him wring out the water from the rag.

He took it a step further. “Did you not acquaint yourself well with it last night?”

That smug… “It’s different.”

His wit was strong that morning. “That is because it is at rest now.”

Almost did you throw him a look for that. It was such a bawdy thing to say that it did manage to make you laugh. “You know that is not what I meant!”

“I know.” He finished washing his lower self. “Why do you find it different to see me like this now?” There was no judgment in his tone, just genuine curiosity to understand.

“I did not expect to see you like that now.” A quiet sigh. “My previous experience with matters like this does not make me immune to feeling shy or flustered. I often feel more self-conscious and shy now because I am with someone I love and it’s different. Now my head spins just seeing you clothed, try to imagine what it feels like for me to see you unclothed.”

He was quiet for a moment, and you feared you had said something wrong. Had you made a fool of yourself?

Finally he spoke, “I am trying to imagine how I would react if I would see you without your trousers on unexpectedly after having acquainted myself with you last night.”

“Don’t imagine too hard.” you quipped.

Half a laugh escaped him before he muffled it into his fist. “You can turn around. I am almost done.”

You threw a careful glance over your shoulder, his trousers sat securely on his hips again. “How are your wounds? Do you want me to put some of that salve on them?”

He dried his face with the linen cloth you handed him. “They do not hurt anymore. But I will not decline that offer.”

You took the salve out from the package in your satchel that the healers had given and began to apply it onto the wounds that still looked too red to your liking. In the meantime he borrowed the comb from your satchel to tend to his hair, plucking your straying fingers out of his locks a few times when you couldn’t resist raking them through his hair.

Someone knocked on the door, Lancelot waited to respond and heard Gawain announce his presence.

“Good morning, Gawain.” You opened the door for the knight who entered the room but he came to a sudden stop at the sight of Lancelot.

“Green knight.” Lancelot greeted him.

Both of you knew that the knight had just seen Lancelot’s scars for the first time. Shock was present in Gawain’s eyes before he composed himself.

The knight came to inform him on some matters. “We are heading into the city around noon. Purchase wares we need and food. Percival is awake and eating breakfast down with the others who are awake.”

Lancelot noticed that Gawain was trying not to stare at his scars. “You can ask.”

Gawain frowned, then understood what the Ash Man meant. “Flagellation?”

A nod. “Yes. Scourge.”

“You have stopped?” The knight sounded hopeful.

Even Lancelot was glad that he could answer, “I have.”

Gawain looked around the room until he saw the sword still hanging over the foot of the bed. “You treat the sword of our people like a rusted blade.”

He put his shirt on. “Am I to worship it on my knees all day?”

Gawain gave him a look. “Do not lose the sword, Brother. We are counting on you.”

“I will not fail you, Gawain.” He stepped towards him. “But I will not be at the mercy of any gods again, even if I share their blood.”

“There is another matter,” the knight said, “Percival needs a better jacket and cloak. Those tears in them will not shield him from the rain long.”

You took responsibility for solving that issue. “I’ll find him something at the market.”

“Thank you.” Gawain nodded gratefully. “The weather is colder today and the sky betrays rain. Prepare to sleep in the forest tonight unless we make haste and travel ahead to this fort Merlin is leading us to.”

“What comes after? When we do find this place to be suited as a sanctuary for the Fey, you believe they will trust my presence there?” Lancelot doubted it. “Who is to say that they will not avenge their loved ones that perished at my hands?”

Gawain took no offense to his worries. “Will you let that fear alter your wish to help your people?”

“I will not.” His voice got quieter, “but when it comes to that-”

The knight stopped him there. “Do you believe I will not stand by your side when you would be threatened? I swore to protect the Fey, all Fey. And I have yet to be proven wrong for putting my trust in you. Stand by us, and we will stand by you.” He took a breath. “Not even Arthur and Red Spear have forgotten that you slayed Trinity Guards that would have killed them otherwise. Your efforts are being noticed, Lancelot.” The knight turned and headed for the door. “Get dressed and head to the horses if you prefer to visit the market with us before the rain. I will arrange for something you can eat whilst riding.”

Lancelot nodded in agreement. “Thank you.”

After Gawain left the room, Lancelot was quick to get dressed for the day while you packed up your clothes again.

Taglist:

@ourlazydetectivekitten @the-great-adventures-of-me @linkpk88 @fxrchxldws @elenaoftheturks @slytherlight @beananacake @crystallizedtime @moonlightaura03 @angrygardendeer @have-aheart @5am-cigarette @arcanenature @thewinterskywalker @notyourwildestdream

@coloursforyourportrait @koressecretidentity @nike90 @n1ghtlux @rachlovesactors @luckyzipperscissorsbat @morena-doing-stuff @the-fangirl-diaries @gipsydanger17 @heavenly1927 @phantasmalbeiing @labyrinthonmymind @asarcastic-thiamstan @rainyv-skies @stclairesplace @katjusja @isla-bell-blog @beebeerockknot @sahvlren @lancedoncrimsonwings @weird123abc @elizabeth-holland24 @kissingandromeda @timeshiptraveler

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story. Using this old list from the previous fic.

#lancelot x reader #the weeping monk #cursed #weeping monk x you #weeping monk x reader #cursed netflix #weeping monk #cursed lancelot #the weeping monk x reader #lancelot

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bradshawed · 2 days ago

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how the grinch stole christmas with bradley pls!!! xx

warnings — fem!reader, mild swearing, fluff, jake slightly self-depreciating, fluff mastermind seresin, kissing

note — missed writing for tg:m so fucking much! apologies that it's not very christmassy, i only just remembered as i got to the end 😬 it's also doesn't flow the best so please excuse that. hope you like it x

drew's christmas celly x && main masterlist!

...

Bradley's been pining after you for years, not saying a word, or as Jake would put it "You're snug on that perch, waiting for just the right moment... that never comes." Maybe he was waiting for the right moment, or maybe he just simply wasn't interested and it was all in your head. Whatever it was, you were sick of waiting around to find out.

Who were you kidding, have you seen that man?!

You were used to the Dagger Squad leaving for months on end, having grown up around the Navy, so when they left, it didn't feel any different than usual. But the moment they got back, you knew something was off. And it was driving you insane trying to figure it out and decipher the looks they gave to each other.

Jake was going to punch Bradley. He was sick of Rooster longingly staring at you across the bar. If he heard the brunette give one more excuse as to why he hadn't asked you out yet, he was going to do it himself.

You would think a near death experience and reuniting with your reckless godfather would knock some sense into you but nooooo.

"Alright, that's it." Jake slammed the empty beer bottle on the table, the bar stool screeching on the hardwood floor as he stood up. Bradley's eyes narrowed tracking Jake's movements as the blonde sauntered to where you worked behind the bar.

"Hey Jake, what can I get y-"

"I won't say this twice so listen carefully. Bradshaw's in love with you but hasn't got the balls to admit it. He's scared of you putting you through what Carole went through or some bullshit because he's a good guy but he's depriving himself of a chance to fall in love with you and start a real family. Between us, he's got a better shot at it than me and I don't want him ending up like Mav so listen up.."

Your shift ended as per usual to the sweet croon of Bradley's rendition of Elvis' Can't Help Falling In Love for your ears only as you locked up.

"You and Jake were talking for a while tonight."

"Mmhm, I could talk about you for hours." You smiled cheekily at the blush creeping on his cheeks, "Walk with me?"

"Always."

You both walked in silence to the sound of the waves crashing on the beach.

"A little birdy told me you were in love with me."

Bradley's heart stopped, and his feet followed. His mind racing as his back turned rigid, Hangman was about to become a very literal call sign.

"Good thing I'm in love with you too."

Bradley's mind was still reeling from your first comment that he had barely processed the second. You'd said it so casually and matter-of-factly that- And god, you were smiling up at him so sweetly, waiting patiently as he processed that he was afraid his heart was about to burst.

Your heart was about to explode. He could probably hear it thumping under your his hoodie. Fuck. This is the last time you follow Jake's advice.

You turned to look at the moonlight reflecting on the calm water. Beautif-

Bradley's lips were on yours. Now you were the one in shock.

Fuck. He can't believe he'd missed out on this all because he was afraid. Maybe Jake was right, not that he'll ever admit it.

You both pulled away, catching your breath, your mind becoming increasingly aware of his hands on your waist.

"I- I don't know why I waited so long to tell you-"

"You still technically haven't." Bradley raised his eyebrows as if daring you to say more, his hand travelling up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, effectively silencing you.

"I love you," he replied, kissing you sweetly again, "and I know we need to talk about this and that I've got a lot of lost time to make up for, but you're it for me. I've known that for a long time."

"You're it for me too B..."

"And Jake says Merry Christmas."

#drew’s catty corner #drew's christmas celly x #drew's tg:m talks!#tg:m #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #jake seresin #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader

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lonewolflupe · 17 hours ago

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A Different Kind Of Fireworks (One-Shot)

This is my entry for week 13 of The Clone Wars Winter Spectacular 2024 / @clone-wars-winter-challenge !

I'm still working on week 12's entry because of Christmas and all that stuff. I had intended to write this fic with Tup, but I was feeling quite down so chose to write this with Echo instead (since he's my major comfort character). I had so much fun writing this and am feeling much better now <3

Summary: You’re excited to watch the Coruscanti fireworks for the first time - but preferably with someone special Rating: Teen and up Tags: fluff, anxiety, mutual pining, friends to lovers, kissing, first kiss, New Years Words: 2.062 Pairing: 501st Echo x gen!reader Prompts: Happy New Year / "Baby It's Cold Outside" / *First Kiss* Read this one-shot here on AO3 week 11 < | week 12 < | ↓

A new year, a new beginning. At least, that’s what you were hoping for. You had moved to Coruscant after the war had started, trying to help out wherever you could. But it had been a rather lonely endeavour, leaving everything and everyone you knew behind. You were happy to get to know a handful of the millions of clone troopers who risked their lives to protect the Republic, even when you knew their chances of survival were slim. But getting to know some of them helped you feel more comfortable around the place, and you liked the thought of making their rotations a little bit brighter.

And one of them seemed to be making your own rotations a bit brighter as well.

You sat at 79’s counter, fidgeting with the rim of your sleeve. You felt hopeful for him to appear and at the same time, devastated because he probably wouldn’t. So many of them didn’t return after a mission or a campaign, and you felt like his chances were dwindling every time he was being sent out again. You were probably getting yourself hurt for attaching yourself to him, but you couldn’t help it; the short moments you had spent with him had been worth all the worrying.

Completely lost in your own thoughts, you almost missed the small group of clones entering the cantina. It was the loud voices of two of them that made you snap back into reality, and when you glanced over hopefully, an enthusiastic smile appeared on your face when you finally noticed him. You turned around on your barstool a bit awkward; you tried acting casually, but from the inside, you were bustling with anticipation. You almost couldn’t wait to spend the evening with him, now that he was back on Coruscant. Especially this evening.

“Fives, I’m telling you, disabling an AAT does not count towards your killstreak,” you heard Jesse’s voice shouting over the crowd. Fives waved his brother’s remark away with a smug expression on his face. “Well, tell that to the shinies I saved by doing so,” came his reply, earning him a subtle head shake from Echo. “Is it really called a killstreak if it’s clankers? I mean, we don’t kill any of them, technically,” Echo remarked, being practical as ever, making you chuckle softly. “But what if we shoot them into oblivion and there’s nothing left to be remade?” Jesse added to the discussion, as he raised an eyebrow and folded his arms. Another head shake from Echo, before he replied: “You can’t kill something that’s not alive.”

“They feel alive enough to me,” Fives replied with a sigh, before a silence washed over them. But after a brief moment, Fives’ gaze reached you. You were still sitting on the barstool, a sheepish smile appearing on your face when he noticed you, awkwardly waving to them as a welcome. Fives’ expression lit up in an instant, before his lips slid into a mischievous smirk. He bumped his elbow into Echo before he nodded towards you. “Speaking about feeling alive,” he snickered to his brother, not loud enough for you to hear.

Echo’s face brightened in an instant when he noticed you, but he tried to hide his enthusiasm, pushing away Fives’ arm before he mustered the courage to walk up towards you. Fives and Jesse followed close behind. “I was afraid you guys wouldn’t be around to celebrate tonight,” you smiled at them when they reached you, saving your most genuine smile for Echo. You looked away a bit flustered when his gaze met yours, turning back towards the bar to order some new drinks.

“We wouldn’t want to miss spending it with you,” Fives grinned, landing a heavy hand on Echo’s shoulder as he spoke the words. Echo tried shrugging it off, but his brother was very persistent. “I tried claiming a booth,” you said whilst grabbing the freshly poured drinks and handing them to the boys, “but as you can see, it’s quite crowded tonight.” You handed Echo’s glass last, and when you did, your fingers briefly touched. You felt how a warm feeling erupted inside you and made for your head, so you quickly turned your face away from him.

“As was expected,” Jesse said with a click of his tongue whilst looking around, taking the crowded place in. When he returned his attention to the group, he raised his drink before you all clinked your glasses together and drank your beverages. “We could have made a pretty impressive fireworks show ourselves,” he continued, after finishing his drink. “I mean, I know a few troopers from the 501st who would love to help put something together.” You chuckled softly, picturing the spectacle Jesse was talking about, before addressing them. “I’d love to see that one day. But for tonight, I’m more than excited to watch Coruscant’s fireworks.”

---

The lot of you had been able to confiscate a booth later during the evening, and were enjoying each other's company with more stories, drinks and laughter. You had subtly slid on the couch at Echo’s side, trying to sit close to him, but not too close to make it any suspicious. You talked about their missions and your work back at Coruscant, but also managed to inform them about the current state of Coruscant and the Republic. When it was nearly midnight, you started shifting in your seat.

“Got some place to go?” Fives asked you with another of his trademark smirks; of course he had noticed the shift in your demeanour - and felt the need to make a remark about it. You swallowed whilst picking your next words carefully. “I, er- I’d like to go watch the fireworks outside. I don’t suppose any of you want to join?” Fives leaned backwards in his seat, the content look on his face not making you any more comfortable about his intentions.

Whilst Fives remained silent for a chance, Jesse started nodding enthusiastically. Although he preferred creating their own fireworks show, he didn’t mind watching this one - for his own pleasure, or to boast about how much more interesting he could make his own show. He was ready to jump to his feet, but got discouraged by Fives’ hand on his shoulder. You had no idea what Fives was up to, but the stern look he shot Jesse did make the latter change his mind. “Baby, it’s, er- it’s cold outside,” he stammered slowly, not as confident as he had been before.

Fives looked back at you, clicking his tongue in defeat, slowly shaking his head to show you how much he agreed with his brother. It was cold outside, and warm inside - and there was booze here. And Jesse’s words about them being able to create a better show kept repeating in your mind. You should have known they didn’t return to Coruscant to watch the fireworks with you. As you shyly lowered your gaze, it was lost on you how Fives shifted his attention towards Echo, giving him an encouraging nod towards you.

Echo clearing his throat made you look up at him, dread taking you in its grasp as you were preparing yourself for another rejection. But the soft look on his face made you regain hope. “I’d like to accompany you outside,” he said to you, his voice practical as always, but there was a warmth to it you only noticed in his voice. With eyes wide open, you looked up at him, almost in disbelief. “Y-you would?” Instead of a spoken reply, he rose to his feet and granted you a welcoming gesture with his hand, silently asking you to join him. Your face was beaming when you did. “I guess until next year,” Fives grinned as you and Echo made for 79’s exit.

---

The Coruscanti nightlife was bustling like always, but you still managed to find a spot near the edge in front of 79’s, overlooking one of the planet’s many entertainment districts. The view was breathtaking, and all the movement and lights below almost looked like the fireworks show had already started. And besides, you were alone with Echo; even if the show wouldn’t be as spectacular as you were hoping, this night would be perfect regardless.

“Thanks for joining me outside,” you said softly, your voice just loud enough to carry over the noises around you. “Of course,” he smiled at you, leaning his forearms on the balustrade in front of you. He let his gaze slide over the view in front of you, and you watched how a soft breeze played with his hair. It wasn’t as wild and wavy as Fives’, but you noticed he wasn’t wearing the standard clone haircut anymore. You wanted to run your fingers through his subtle curls, to feel the warmth coming from his skin, to drown yourself in his eyes - but you didn’t know how to tell him what you felt for him.

You shifted on your feet nervously and chuckled, trying to regain yourself from your wandering thoughts. The sound of your soft laughter made him look at you with an adoration that made you almost melt on the spot. When you tried keeping the conversation going, you stammered to get the words out right. “I-I’ve actually never seen the, er- the fireworks before. Here on Coruscant, that is.” He huffed at your words, and you didn’t know if it was from amusement or irony. “Me neither,” he said softly, casting his eyes down for a moment before he found yours again.

And for a moment, you lost yourself in them. His eyes were the most beautiful, lively ones you had ever seen, and it looked like they held a galaxy of their own; they were smouldering like embers in a fire, shining like a rippling stream on a warm planet. They were calming, and the comfort they brought you wrapped you like a blanket. “That doesn’t surprise me,” was your reply, but you didn’t know if it was merely a thought or if you really spoke them out loud.

After a moment in which you had lost all conscience of time, you noticed a playful flicker in his eyes just before his lips started moving. “Don’t forget about the fireworks,” he said to you, his lips landing shut into an amused smile. You almost did forget about the fireworks. And if you had, you felt like you hadn’t missed a thing. You blinked a few times, getting back into reality only to realise the fireworks had indeed started already. You suddenly noticed the loud explosions around you, the lights painting the city in a different light, the sounds of wonder and excitement around you.

In awe, you silently mouthed a ‘wow’ as you beheld the spectacle of fireworks all around you. It was everything you had hoped for - and so much more, with Echo by your side. “It’s so pretty!” you said out loud after some more gazing, and with enthusiasm beaming from your face, you turned back to Echo, meeting his warm eyes again. “Yeah, it is,” was his reply, as he was already - or still - looking at you. He seemed completely taken by you, mesmerised by the way the lights reflected in your eyes. You suddenly wondered if he was even talking about the fireworks.

“W-what?” you murmured softly, just before you got pushed towards him due to all the excitement around you, making you bump into Echo. He caught you, gently wrapping his arms around you to make sure you couldn’t be tossed about any more. Your breath got caught in the back of your throat just when you looked back up at him, suddenly recognising the longing radiating from his face - the same longing you had been feeling towards him.

“Happy New Year,” he whispered softly, just loud enough for you to hear, before he leaned towards you. And in a moment where everything around you started to blur and you forgot everything about the fireworks you had been so eager to see, he pressed his lips against yours. And with it, he warmed your body, he eased your mind and he satisfied your longing. For a moment, there wasn’t a worry in the galaxy as you were experiencing this different kind of fireworks. With this first kiss, he had made the new beginning you had hoped for.

Fives would make such a great wingman (especially to Echo) <3

Taglist (read to join): @welcometo79s @covert1ntrovert @diamondluna2 @aknightreaderr @returnofthepineapple @sunshinesdaydream

#star wars #the clone wars #clone wars #tcw #clone wars fanfiction #echo my beloved #tcw echo #arc trooper echo #echo x gen!reader #echo x reader #theclonewarswinterspectacular2024 #sfw #fanfiction #lonewolflupe #lonewolflupe writes

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the-font-bandit · 2 days ago

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In The Gentle Hands of Death

Emmrich x Rook Fanfiction Dragon Age the Veilguard

3,200 words in Chapter 2 (8,800 total so far)

Tags: Fluff, Pining, a sprinkle of Angst, Mild Veilguard Spoilers, Mostly Canon-Compliant, Stargazing, You Still Gotta Wait a Little Longer For The Smut Sorry

Content Warnings: Mention of past abusive relationship

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Chapter 2

Rook and Emmrich enjoy a little time to themselves between missions.

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“I thought this job was supposed to be easy,” Rook grumbled, catching her breath and leaning on the very nice staff they’d just upgraded and which probably shouldn’t be used like a walking stick. The last melting slush of the despair demon flickered and faded with a final dying whimper.

They stood in some Venatori member’s cellar. The demon had made short work of the blood mages, but it had been up to Rook and her companions to eliminate the demon itself.

Neve grimaced, leaning over to pick up some stray bit of crafting ephemera the demon had left behind, while Emmrich stepped up beside them, tucking a loose lock of Rook’s hair back behind one of her horns before turning to Neve. “I do seem to recall an assurance against both Venatori and demons. It seems a bit rude to be both.”

“I made no full guarantees,” Neve pointed out, dusting off her jacket.

Rook sighed, straightening. She stepped into the chalk circle cautiously—lot of good that had done the Venatori—and peered at the statuette on the center pedestal. A simple obelisk, maybe eight inches tall, carved from black onyx. If she’d seen it at a merchant’s stall, she wouldn’t have given it a second glance.

“It should be safe to touch,” Emmrich said. “We’ve cleared out the demon. Before that, it would still have required a very specific ritual to free it.”

Shoving the thing into her bag, Rook muttered, “I should have known, when we found out the job was about smuggling. The smuggling always comes back around to the Venatori.”

Neve added, “it does seem a bit overdone, doesn’t it? They should really change it up a little.”

“Well, it’s over,” Rook said. “And since you’re the one who claimed this was going to be a simple job, I think you owe us both a drink.”

She laughed. “All right, then. We’ll return this artifact and then to the Swan?”

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