#but either way i need the others to find out so i can see the Disappointed Dad & Brother energy djkfjg

[gay-dorito-dust]

We NEEED Batfam with a s/o who is the kindest person to ever walk in Gotham City. I’m talking they have no bad bone in their bodies and ALWAYS see’s the good in other people.

Dick found you to be refreshing.

He found your pension for helping others, even the scummiest of individuals, into a better future. However he has seen how people could take advantage of a person unlike themselves out of greed, envy for their willpower to keep believing when they’ve all but given up, and anger that they still smile even when the situation is against them.

He couldn’t help but found your want to see Gotham be better admirable and how you’d wish to see the city better itself for the people that live inside it but Gotham was a city with no cure, nor wanted to be healed no matter how hard others have tried. This doesn’t mean Dick was apprehensive towards your dream, if anything he shared that vision with you as it was a dream he’d love to see com true one day.

‘You’re far too kind for a city like this sweetheart.’ Dick said once after he saw you give some kids from Crime Alley a generous amount of food and the money from your wallet/purse, smiling softly as you watched them run away with full stomachs and money in their tightly protected pockets.

You shrugged, looking at him with a soft glint in your eyes. ‘That might be true but that doesn’t mean I’m going to run away when the going gets tough or loose my way.’ You replied as you returned to his side, intertwining your fingers with his and squeezing. Dick smiles as he lifts your hand to his lips, kissing it before letting it drop between the two of you, feeling a lot lighter under your gaze as he found himself wanting to stay in this moment forever before Gotham soured even the most innocent of interactions you two shared.

‘Then I’ll gladly stand by your side and help you see this dream through, if you’re not giving up then I’m not giving up either, I promise you that.’ Dick vowed as he pulled you closer to him, kissing your temple, letting himself linger there as he embraced your warmth against Gotham’s bitter cold air that tried to separate you, for it knew that you two were a formidable force to be reckoned with. You sighed, leaning towards his touch and relishing how comforting it was.

‘I’d rather have no one else by my side than my dickie bird.’ You said softly as Dick pulled away to smile at you. ‘I just don’t want to see more kids suffer more than they’ve already have, whether it’d be by the hands of their parents or corrupt authority figures.’ You tell him as you looked back down the alleyway the kids ran down, smile wavering a little as you could only imagine the cruelty they suffered and at such a young age too. ‘They’ve already endured enough and they’re all the more braver for not letting it destroy their spirit.’ You add as you could only hope that those kids remember this small act of kindness and hold it to their chest well into their adulthood.

Dick looked at your fondly and found himself all the more amazed by you and your unending desire to see the better in people, fully believing that they can change whenever they felt ready to, even the most lost individuals can find their way back with the help of a guiding hand. People like you are what Gotham desperately needed to lead the city into a better and brighter future, you were able to find it within yourself to be kind and loving towards those that would spit at your shoes, letting them see that you weren’t so easily swayed to step away from someone in pain.

‘I’m sure they will,’ Dick reassured you by squeezing your hand, ‘it’s hard to forget an act as selfless and sincere as yours honey.’

‘Thank you Dick.’ You uttered softly as you cuddled yourself into his side, resting your head against his chest to listen to his calming heartbeat.

‘Just speaking the truth and from the heart.’ Dick responded as he kisses the top of your head, wanting nothing more than to make you happy just like you have been making him happy throughout your relationship. ‘This town will heal, it’ll be long, but it’ll heal in its own time.’ He adds as you both walked home to be greeted by your sweet baby Hayley.

Gotham will heal…just give it time and patience.

Damian found your kindness to be glaring.

It was a beacon for the weak to prey upon and your hope for Gotham was one that came from that, hope. Gotham was the city where hope and ideals for a better future came to rot and die and Damian couldn’t help but scoff a little because a person like you would never survive in this town, for the people of Gotham could smell your naivety from a mile away and hunt you down until you became like them.

Which was why Damian often found himself by your side and pointing his sword at the throats of those stupid enough to be enamoured by your bright, hopeful presence, even going so far as to cut them just to prove a point. ‘Back off cretin.’ He’d all but growl at them and watch as they scurry off like rats.

You’d look at him with the expression of an upset puppy as he sheathed his sword. ‘Damian.’ You groaned.

‘They’d only come back for more if you conceded to their whims my love.’ Damian replied calmly as he cupped your face between his hands, resting his head against yours to look deeply into your eyes. ‘And I do not intended for my beloved to be used by the miscreants that littler the street like discarded toys, bent out of use and lost all purpose but to kill the will of those that still believe.’ He could see the hurt and the disbelief in your eyes before the look of resilience took over your face as you smiled sweetly at him, taking his breath away.

‘Then I’ll keep believing for the people who can’t, won’t or have long since given up all hope that Gotham can be better than what they’re forced to believe as truth.’ You said and Damian couldn’t help but find your tenacity and determination to keep strong when all seems bleak and depressing admirable. However he couldn’t help but want to usher you away from the utter madness that he had seen with his bare eyes, keep you from ever seeing this town for what it truly was; chaos incarnate.

The town was constantly tearing itself apart and putting itself together again but by only using the worst parts of itself over and over again until it could do nothing but collapse in on itself, dragging everyone else down with it in the process, implicating a sense of darkness and despair that could leave even the most strong willed of people to wonder whether it was worth it and Damian didn’t wish for you to loose that light, nor hope for a better Gotham.

‘You are truly an enigma my treasure.’ Damian sighed as you kissed his cheeks, nose then lips quickly, making him smile softly as he closed his eyes to embrace your affection. ‘Stubborn yet sweet, kind yet headstrong, hopeful yet knowledgeable. That is the kind of person you are and I do not wish to see you falter to this city’s darkness, for a cage is not a place for a bird that is meant to be free from all restraints to it’s ability to fly.’ Damian murmurs as he kisses your forehead.

‘And I’m glad to have someone like you dami.’ You said happily as you admired his emerald eyes. ‘But I just wish for the betterment of the people here, doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance?’ You then asked as your hopeful eyes twinkled like the stars above, bright and vibrant, so unlike the eyes of everyone that resided in Gotham which were dull, lost and angry.

‘Not everyone my love.’ Damian counters, ‘rehabilitation can only take them so far before they realise that they can abuse the help given to them with the hope they’d do better once out, while that might be the case for some but there are those who see an opportunity to take from the giving.’ You sighed, still smiling at him as you recognised that he was equally as stubborn in his own views, just as much as you were stubborn in yours.

‘That is true but I just can’t afford to give up, not when this city is crying out for help but only receiving bloodshed and corruption.’ You reached out and rubbed his arms soothingly. You were too kind to a town that reeked of blood and violence Damian deducted from your first meeting, having found it rather childish and naive, but now he saw this as something that should be valued and appreciated while it could and Damian internally vowed to keep this light within you alive and burning for as long as he could.

For you were his hope just as much as Gotham’s.

Jason finds you to be the purest and sweetest soul amongst the piss and shit that made up the rest of Gotham.

The light in the dark for many, but unfortunately that means that you’d also attract the attention of people whom Jason saw as people who’d take advantage of a soul like you.

So much so that he would rest his hand on your wait and pull you away when some suspicious looking man walked up to you, hands cupped together with a pathetic look upon his face as he pleaded with you, never once looking at him because the punk knew he couldn’t fool him with his character so he went for you instead like a coward.

‘I’m pretty sure I’ve got some money I can spare-‘ you said sweetly as you tried to reach for your wallet/purse.

‘No.’ Jason said as he stops you and glares at the man who looked back at him with a face that only confirmed what he had already assumed upon seeing him; he was taking advantage of you for his own benefit and was pissed that Jason was guarding you from his schemes. ‘He can scrap the shit off of the pavement and feed himself with it.’ Jason adds as he proceeded to pull you away from the man who only spat near his shoe and slunk away into the alleyway, waiting for someone else he could take advantage of.

‘Jason!’ You exclaimed, wanting to truly help the man in hopes he’d change his ways for a more productive one.

‘You can’t think you can heal everyone chipmunk, then they’ll think they are entitled to everything you have and will want to take every piece of you until there’s nothing left for them to benefit from, where they’ll leave your body to rot until they can find a new soul to dig their claws into.’ Jason replied firmly but the moment he saw your saddened look he sighed and tipped your chin up with his finger. ‘Hey,’ he began softy, ‘a soul like you is unique, precious as a jewel, and you shine too brightly that you’ve become a beacon for the worst this shit town has to offer but I’m not going to let them.’ He finished as he kissed your forehead.

‘I just can’t expect you to protect me all the time.’ You retorted as you held his face between your hands, caressing his cheeks in a soothing manner and smiling as he melted into your touch. ‘I can’t help who I am, I just want the best for everyone and I can’t help but hope that Gotham heals itself for the betterment of its people.’ Jason couldn’t help but look at you lovingly as he brought you in closer to him so that you were pressed against each other, the closeness was enough to calm his thoughts.

You were too good to be true in Jason’s eyes and would far better in a city far, far away from Gotham in hopes that the poisonous town doesn’t seep into you, but you were not only kind but far too stubborn to do such a thing; especially when there was people to help and Jason couldn’t help but find beauty in your will to do right by the people, even the ones that he didn’t think were worth the tireless effort of saving but that was the kind of person you were and he loved you all the more for being true to yourself.

‘I’m not asking you to change. I could never ask you to stop being who you are because it’s people like you that Gotham needs most, not violence or hateful comments, just someone who genuinely wants to help for the sake of bettering a community who don’t have the resources to help themselves and be a guiding hand for the hopeless.’ Jason kisses you on the lips. ‘That’s the person I fell for, an absolute angel.’ He finishes as he cradled you even further against his chest as he felt you cling onto him.

You were far too sweet for a sour town like Gotham but Jason was going to be with you no matter what, an angel like you needs someone like him who can protect you from the corrupt and the evil that lurks beneath the surface, or shows their face proudly in a town where hope comes to die. Jason will protect his light, his angel, his cheeky little chipmunk who often steals his hoodies when they missed him for you were worth more than he’d ever let this putrid city know. He’ll protect what is his and wage war on those who seek to hurt his hope for Gotham.

[hxney-lemcn]

Mine, Only Mine — Mr. Crawling, Gap, Silvair, Chopped, Hugeface, and Scarletella x gn! reader

summery: how jealous do some of the Homicipher boys get?

tw: unhealthy relationships (Mr. Hugeface & Scarletella)

wc: 1.2k

Master List

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Crawling

❥I know people have written about how he gets jealous…but I don’t really think he does? Or at least not terribly. The scene with Mr. Chopped and the cat ears show that Mr. Crawling won’t pout or get sad at you showing affection to others, just that he wants to gain the same attention (the ear scene…). So jealousy with Mr. Crawling isn’t too bad, just be prepared to shower him with more affection than the person you originally did. 

❥On the other hand, I do think his jealousy may increase if you ignore him. Say you give more attention to Mr. Scarletella, Mr. Crawling would get a bit sad and pouty, thinking you don’t like him anymore. If this happens, give him lots and lots of attention and reassurance, he’ll be super grateful. I mean he loves your affection anyways, so might as well give him some extra headpats and kisses. Even better if you only show certain signs of affection with him, it makes him feel special. 

❥Overall, not the most jealous, but not completely unaffected either. Make sure he gets his daily dose of attention/quality time and he’ll be as right as rain.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Gap

❥Uh, he gets more jealous than you’d think. Like…his whole thing is he wants to be special to you…in his own strange way. Doesn’t like the thought of someone taking his place as a jokester to you. Also why he brings you things he’d think you like from time to time, just to make sure you still have that special place in your heart for him <3

❥Hates hate hates when you call him bad or not good. He’s good! He swears! Remember how he’s helped you before! Gets all frowny when you call him not good and then call someone else good. He’s good too! Guess he has to prove it, AGAIN. It’s honestly kind of endearing how he has no clue how he actually kind of does like you? But not exactly in a romantic way? It’s honestly hard to label his feelings towards you, so why should I?

❥I’d say he’s the second most jealous in this list of characters, watching on angrily as you praise someone that isn’t him. Be prepared for magazines and books galore when he’s in this mood, trying to prove his worth to you. Kind of strange for someone to try so hard when they claim to not like you…

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Silvair

❥Definitely the chillest one here. Doesn’t really get jealous at all :/ If anything, he finds it entertaining when you’re affectionate with others. Gives him more insight to his lab rats. Yes, he sees everyone as a lab rat. Idk, I can’t really see him get jealous.

❥Maybe…MAYBE if someone else tries doing research on you, or if Ms. Nurse treats you instead he’ll feel a bit off. Like…you’re his test subject, he knows you from the inside out…literally and not in the fun sense. Why would you go to someone who doesn’t know as much about you and how this world affects you? It’s very hard to spot his jealousy, doesn’t even notice it/recognize it himself. He just doesn’t want anyone to mess up his data…that’s all…totally.

❥In conclusion, not really jealous. Doesn’t feel like he needs to be. You’re ‘friends’, doctor and patient, mad scientist and lab rat not many others threaten that balance between you. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Chopped

❥Honestly…Mr. Chopped I’m kinda mixed on how he’d be. Like on one hand, I could totally see him getting jealous if you call others cute or pay too much attention to them. On the other…he could probably care less. He loves himself, you love him, why does he need to get jealous? It’s clear how much you like him with the way you pamper him. I mean we get so many examples where you’re affectionate to Mr. Crawling in front of Mr. Chopped and he doesn’t really bat an eye. 

❥Now, I can see if he gets a bit insecure he might get more jealous. Whether it be because Mr. Crawling pats your head or tucks you into bed, Mr. Chopped feels a bit sad. He’d like to tuck you in, you look so comfy. Might be just a bit pouty, eyeing you like a dissatisfied cat. Easily rectified with head pats or even cuddles. Gets side tracked from his jealousy as soon as you give him a sliver of attention honestly.

❥Mr. Chopped is fifty fifty when it comes to jealousy, but it’s never too bad. He’s pretty comfortable with what you both have and doesn’t really feel threatened by others. After all, you did call him cute.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Hugeface

❥I wouldn’t say he gets jealous? More possessive than anything. Like that scene when Mr. Machete stumbles into his little makeshift dollhouse that he made for you and gets all angry that he’s there. It’s more of a ‘you’re not supposed to be here, this is our playtime’ more than actual jealousy. Throws a little fit whenever someone messes up your playtime. Very accusatory lmao.

❥Does not like when you try to escape. Was he not providing enough for you? Were you unhappy? You’re not allowed to leave! You’re his cute human! He can’t just find another one y’know. Mr. Hugeface may be lenient if he sees you happier, you need enrichment after all. Feels extra happy if you come back on your own violation. 

❥The most childish out of all the characters on this list. Isn’t afraid to throw tantrums, will also punish you by putting you in a solid concrete cube if he’s really upset. Yeah…not the most healthy of relationships to have…BUT! I do think you could convince him to be a bit better…? Maybe? Only if you put enough work in communicating with him though. Maybe punish him in your own way like leaving for longer if he threatens to trap you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Scarletella

❥Uhhhhhhhhhhh. Top of the list when it comes to jealousy. Watches your every move with curiosity and spite. Why are you doing that to Mr. Crawling? Do it to him instead. Why do you look so happy braiding Mr. Chopped’s hair? Style his hair instead. Why are you looking so fondly amused at Mr. Gap? Don’t you find him amusing? You do like him, right? He likes you. He likes you a lot, and he thought he was enough…was he not?

❥Will stare through your skull. It is so intimidating. His smile? Strained, it makes your skin crawl. You have to make sure he doesn’t hurt your friends, he’s so close to snapping, but he knows that would upset you and that’s not his goal. So instead he stands ominously in the background, body staticing in and out while his hand clenches the handle of his umbrella. 

❥Not that easily mended. Likes to monopolize all your time and affection. Needs constant reassurance as well, he’s quite needy. If you like constant validation and no social life go for it, just don’t get too upset if he threatens your other monster friends…he can’t stand that you could like someone that wasn’t him.

[morhido]

Sighs. Okay yeah i have thoughts about cgi toothless.

First of all, why does he look so... slimy? He feels too smooth. Like they just stretched some scaly skin over a skeleton and let it walk around. Immediately offputting.

His body language is. Fine? Am i being nitpicky or does it seem just the tiniest bit less expressive? I'm guessing this is either the scene right after hiccup cuts him free, in which case he should be way more intimidating, or the fish-sharing scene, in which case he should feel a little friendlier and more curious around hiccup. It's a quick shot so i won't put a ton of expectations onto it, but i think it's worth noting.

Okay this is a legitimately cool detail though. He has a secondary eyelid!! You can see it slipping away when he opens his eyes. That's a detail exclusive to the books so i like that they included something as small as that.

Sighs again. And this is the shot that prompted me to make this post.

Look at the original, and then look at the cgi version. I could write an essay about how inferior the cgi version is in comparison.

First off, they flattened his face. I swear every iteration of night furies after the first movie has just been compressing their snouts until they're sufficiently 'cute' enough for the audience to forget they're supposed to be sleek and aerodynamic.

Second, his eyes. Absolutely radioactive. I understand using a brighter colour for his eyes, especially in a relatively darker environment to make him stand out and seem more fantastical. But. They're just so bright. It's mildly unsettling how saturated they are compared to everything else.

Third, his eyes. Again.

Toothless is supposed to be terrified but still threatening in this scene, and the original shot conveys that perfectly. If it's a threat, then by all means hiccup should kill it or at least run, but instead he draws a connection between both of them being scared of the other and decides to cut him loose instead. And that's the core of their relationship. Toothless is staring him down with a slitted pupil that could just as easily be interpreted as "fuck around and find out" but hiccup just acknowledges that there's a frightened, injured animal in front of him that needs help, and he helps.

Is any of that conveyed in the cgi version? No!! It's trying so hard to be cute that it's gone full circle back to just being scary. The wide-eyed stare, the dilated pupil, he's basically just saying "🥺🥺 uwu pwease i'm so cute and innocent don't kill me aha 👉👈". Which is a lot less of a compelling reason for hiccup to free him!! Plus the fact that toothless turns up to look at him instead of lying and accepting his fate like in the original, which only makes it seem even more like he's trying to show off how apparently adorable he is.

Idk. Just the difference between the in-your-face sanitised cuteness of "teehe you wouldn't kill little old me would you? 🥺" and the expert subtlety of his "please don't hurt me" of the original doesn't give me high hopes for a toothless that stays true to his character from the first movie. Even from something as small as this. He's gonna get woobified. I can feel it.

[what-if-i-just-did]

"Are you okay?"

I spoke softly, so as not to startle him. I'd come back to the room to find him sitting up, and I could almost feel his panic and confusion. Upon seeing me, he calmed down.

"Yeah," he nodded, and it looked painful. "Just, I woke up and you weren't there, so.. "

I understood the problem instantly. I'd only gone to get water, but.. I would have reacted the same way, had it been him. Strange. Just days ago, I would not have hesitated to kill him. He would have easily done the same- nearly did, on a few occasions. Subconciously, my hand raised to the side of my throat, tracing an old scar. Very nearly.

Sitting down on the bed again, I could tell he was still looking at me. "Is something wrong?"

"No. Well... not beyond what We already know."

Right. We. Capital-W-we, like capital-U-us. Something that had happened in a single second that seemed to span a century. Mortal enemies to codependancy, a complete united front, within a second. We were lucky, We supposed. By myth and legend, the few that found what We did either came out with their sanity in fragmented shards, or did not come out at all.

Perhaps that's why We came out alive and sane- Well, sane... As close as could. One mind would shatter... but two would meld. Still incapable of grasping the... the magnitude, the insignificance, the severity of what We witnessed. Of what We know. But not catatonically so.

I sigh. We've spent the past few days in a hotel, avoiding Our respective teammates, mentors, minions, superiors... I know the exact look my mentor would give me if We even tried to explain this. How do We explain what happened to Us? How do We explain why there even is an Us, when We don't know Ourself? They would have his head most likely, or at least try to talk to me alone. But the difference, the line between me and him has thinned and blurred into infathomability. We don't know how, We can only guess at why. How could We convince them of it? The truth is We can't, and we know it. And his side.. has it's own complications. It's been days... We've been getting used to being Us, but We're running out of time.

"You're troubled."

Had it been anyone else, the observation would have startled me, seeing as how deep in thought I was. As it is, it's like he'd already been in my mind. Our mind. Days ago, my greatest enemy. Now, I don't believe he will ever be capable of even startling me again.

"We're running out of time. It's been a few days. They were aware of the risk in Our respective missions, but they will be expecting a result, and soon. Our corpses, or Our success. We need to decide what to do. We required the time to re-adjust, We still need more time, but... if We are not to do something soon, something to monitor or influence the consequences, then consequences will find Us, Our preferences and needs be damned."

He nodded. I didn't need more of an answer, anyways. He was already aware of everything I said. That's another thing, this.. near psychic bond. It wasn't like We could hear eachother's thoughts, it was more like.. like We had no need to. His body, his emotions, felt like an extension of what had originally been my own. We were still seperate and yet, connected. His feelings felt like an echo in my mind, his presence bringing me comfort despite feeling like my shadow. He was me, and more. He was still him. I was still me. But We were Us, and that was irreversible and incomprehensible.

Silently, we thought. Going through our options, sharing opinions, it required no words, no means of communication. Eventually We came to a conclusion. We would have to make sure that Our other halves weren't to be injured, that We weren't to be seperated, by either of Our previous sides. We didn't question those instincts, those needs. They had been instilled in Us the second we became Us, and it had left Us a scared, shivering mess as We clung to eachother, Ourself, for the first few hours. We had worked past that, had learnt to become seperate enough to operate independantly. Still, We stayed close.

It wasn't so much as that it hurt to be apart, as that it was massively unpleasant. Well, it hadn't hurt up until then, but We'd only been apart for short times and short distances since then- the bathroom, grabbing something, switching off the lights. It would not surprise Us if being further apart or for longer amounts of time would end up causing pain. We are One, after all.

Reassured, we both nodded. The lights had remained off, so there was no need to seperate Ourself. We slept in one bed, skin-to-skin, the closest We could get to physically being one. Social convention and strangers' assumptions were not something We were bothered by anymore. Although some leaned towards unpleasant accusations, We'd considered it an occupational hazard of almost always being in physical contact of some sort.

Sleep reached Us simultaniously, as it had ever since We became Us. It was a peaceful sleep, preparing for the day ahead.

Enemies who experience an inescapable horror together and can't imagine being without one another again

The one you hated just days before becomes the one you need curled against you to feel safe, the back of your neck now a hearth for his fiery breath while he sleeps. Flames that once terrified you have become a comfort, a barrier from evil that wishes for your shared demise.

[genderqueerdykes]

I have a question and I hope it is phrased right. Is it wrong for me as a fat person to sometimes wish I could just go out using a wheelchair? My feet get sore a lot faster than I wish as well as other joint, nerve and musculoskeletal pain I'm not entirely sure is related to fatness. Technically I'm completely capable of still walking with no barrier besides pain so I feel weird desiring a wheelchair for comfort

i honestly don't see this as being too much of an issue. i believe my highest weight was 360 lbs at one point and it was extremely hard to walk or move. the thing about this is that you can become disabled due to complications with weight and that's not a bad thing at all. focusing on someone's weight when they're dealing with pain isn't productive. we need to make sure you're not hurting all the time first and then your weight can be addressed if it is genuinely causing you issues. it's hard to know right away- in my eyes, it's more important to treat the pain and the issues first.

either way it sounds like you need help with a mobility aid. whether or not it's due to your weight, you sound like you're miserable. even if it's due to fatness it deserves to be taken seriously and treated accordingly. i don't think it's okay to tell someone who's fat that they can't get a mobility aid because their pain may be due to fatness. why do that matter? it's pain, we need to treat it. we need to make sure you're not putting yourself in pain and harming yourself

you may find that if you get some type of mobility aid you'll get some stamina back and lose any weight that may be affecting you negatively. a mobility aid may help you move around more. if not, it's okay that you tried that. either way i totally think it's okay if you want to try a mobility aid. you want to get out there in ways that are accessible to you. i don't think there's anything wrong with that

if you have anything diagnosed that could point toward you having issues walking around on foot for long periods you may be able to get something covered by insurance. either way i support you. let us know if you have any additional questions, best of luck to you

[stars-tonight]

hiii can i request for some fluff & crack imagines on suna who has the biggest fattest crush on you and decided to wait no longer and confess 🫣🫣 if ur comfortable with it of course 🫂🫶🏻

IN HIS DREAMS (FT. SUNA RINTARŌ)

synopsis: the four times suna rintarō attempts to confess to you and the one time he finally does. 4+1, fluff, pre-timeskip, suna is a bit of a lovestruck fool

word count: 2620

the first time suna rintarō nearly confesses to you, it’s at a party in front of just about everyone. a game of truth or dare was under way, and some of the kids were already getting tipsy off the alcohol someone had snuck in. suna didn’t drink--coach would kill him if word got out--and he noticed that you didn’t either.

“suna, truth or dare!” atsumu exclaims, slinging an arm around his shoulders. atsumu didn’t drink anything either, probably for the same reason as suna. he had to admit he respected the guy a little because of it.

he sighs, contemplating his choices. he knows atsumu would ask him something super embarrassing, but he’s not about to strip naked and run through the neighborhood. besides, he could always lie if the truth really was that bad. “truth,” he says finally.

atsumu rolls his eyes. “you’re no fun,” he complains. “fine. who do you like?”

suna blinks. [y/n], his brain thinks immediately, and his eyes dart over to you only to find that you’re already looking at him, an amused, curious little gleam in your eye. you look absolutely heavenly tonight; you’re not dressed super fancy, but you look put-together enough that he’s noticed multiple other people checking you out tonight (not like you need to dress up to be hot, you could probably show up in pajamas and he’d still be heads over heels). you’re looking at him with a little smile on your face, almost like you really want to know the answer too. he opens his mouth, closes it. he can just hear your name slipping past his lips. that would be an absolute disaster.

“what are you, twelve?” he forces himself to say, blinking hard and averting his eyes. “that’s a stupid question.”

“you’re avoiding it!” atsumu chides him. “c’mon, who is it?”

suna rolls his eyes and pushes his friend away. “your mom.” he pulls his knees to his chest as atsumu shouts and complains, his eyes still occasionally finding themselves fixed on your figure. his face felt hot. damn, he was down bad, wasn’t he?

the second time suna rintarō nearly confesses to you, it’s after a brilliant idea strikes. he wakes up at five in the morning and practically jumps out of bed, scrambling around his house to get ready before dashing to school. he’s never this energetic in the morning, but something about the thought of you makes his adrenaline soar. he gets to school as soon as it opens; he’s the first one in the classroom and takes this time to carefully arrange his present on your desk. he had poured his whole heart out in that letter, he had gone to too many convenience stores to count to buy that special brand of yogurt he knew you liked, and he had spent hours trying to perfect his drawing of you that would hopefully charm its way into your heart. suna is by no means an artist, and he had nearly torn up the piece of paper in frustration last night because he couldn’t get the sparkle in your eyes quite right. to avoid suspicion, he heads off to the library after he finishes, planning to return to the classroom a few minutes before class officially starts.

at seven twenty, suna returns to the classroom. as he gets closer, his heart starts beating faster. soon he’d see your reaction to the gifts. he’d been too scared to leave his name in letter, only a mysterious message telling you to meet him on the rooftop at sunset today. if everything works out, it would be absolutely perfect. so romantic, how could you say no?

he turns into the room and stops short in the doorway.

the letter is opened. the yogurt is half empty. the picture is nowhere in sight. his eyes land on the open window, and as the strong wind messes up his hair, the awful truth dawns on him. the drawing must have been blown away. and as for the letter. . .

he spends half his time in this classroom staring at you. he knows everything there is to know. he knows how you chew on your pencil when you’re concentrating, how you shake your hair out of your eyes before writing down an answer, how you twirl your pencil when you’re bored. he knows everything about you. except, apparently, where you sit.

suna nearly face palms, right then and there. oh my god. . . how stupid was he? all that work and he had messed up the very last step. now his--your--letter and yogurt are in someone else’s hands. he’s numb as he makes his way to his seat and plops down. running a hand through his hair, he fights back an urge to yell in frustration. this is the one time he’s actually tried for anything.

he puffs out his cheeks as he lets out a deep sigh. that was his whole heart, poured out to you. he suddenly feels so intensely grateful that he hadn’t given any clues in the letter as to who he was. maybe a written confession wasn’t the best idea. like what had just happened, it could easily fall into the wrong hands, and it could become terrifying blackmail material later on for the twins.

he would have to try again some other time, he decides. and it would probably have to be face to face.

the third time suna rintarō nearly confesses to you, it’s after nationals. at least, it’s supposed to be after nationals.

inarizaki were practically the favorite to win nationals. suna rintarō, a national champion? how could you say no?

you text suna the day before the big match to wish him luck. i’ll be watching! you add, with a little smiley face.

suna fights back the urge to tell you to pay extra close attention to him and all the kills he’s going to get tomorrow. instead he just thanks you. he’d confess to you at the end of the tournament, he promises himself. after he wins. you’ll see the photos of him and his medal and the trophy in the newspaper, on social media, everywhere. and when he comes back a national champion and proclaims his love for you, how would you be able to resist? it’s a perfect plan.

then inarizaki loses to karasuno. and suna goes home with his head hung low. how could he confess to you now? he’s not cool. he’s not a winner. he’s just about the biggest loser around.

the winner is ichibayashi. of course it is. suna’s on the subway, riding home from school, when he sees the news. he sighs deeply, tipping his head back against the cold train window. if anyone on the ichibayashi team had a crush they were wanting to confess to, they’d be able to do it now. him, on the other hand? he can’t go to you and confess to you as a loser. he’d have to find some other time. actually, maybe at this point it's better just to not confess to you at all. both of his plans so far had gone wrong. was it even worth trying again? maybe if he stopped thinking about you and tried to avoid you, he could just forget about your existence.

ha, says the little voice in his head that he knows is right. in your dreams.

the fourth time suna rintarō nearly confesses to you, it’s not by choice and after quite possibly the worst choice of his life: asking atsumu for love advice.

“you like [y/n]?” atsumu shrieks the second suna mutters your name. he jumps out of his chair and throws himself at his setter, clamping a hand over his mouth.

“not so loud!” he hisses. “do you want the whole world to hear?”

atsumu licks his hand, and suna jumps off him, wiping his hand on atsumu’s bed in disgust. “we’re in my house, suna,” atsumu says, waving a hand dismissively. “no one else will hear. but come on! you like [y/n]? have you told them yet? you need help confessing, is that it?”

“shut it!” suna shouts, and he finally quiets down. suna slides a glance sideways at osamu, who’s sitting at his desk playing video games. osamu is wearing headphones, so suna continues. “yes, okay? yes to everything. except the confession part, i-i haven’t told them yet. and--fine--maybe i need a bit of help."

“ooh!” atsumu makes a little face at him. “so here’s what you gotta do, suna, and listen up close. you catch them when they’re alone, and then you press them against the wall and you ki--”

“miya!” suna roars, face beet red. “this isn’t fun--”

“what’s the party about?” osamu yells, throwing off his headphones. “i have them on noise cancelling and i’m blasting music! and i can still hear you! jesus, it’s almost as loud as ‘tsumu’s snoring!”

“shut your trap, ‘samu!” atsumu retorts, and the two start bickering loudly. suna sighs deeply, rubbing his temples. why did he even think this was a good idea? what in atsumu’s love life--or lack thereof--led him to think he’d be a good person to go to for crush advice?

“[y/n]?” osamu says, and suna perks up immediately. his friend is staring at him with arms crossed, an eyebrow raised and a wholly unimpressed look on his face. “you like [y/n].”

suna groans, throwing himself backward onto his bed. “would you just shut up about it already?” he mutters. “i don’t want anyone to know.”

“you don’t want anyone to know?” osamu’s other eyebrow raises too. “suna, i think everyone knows. you’re not slick.”

suna stares at him, gaping. what was he talking about, everyone knows? he had been doing a great job of hiding his crush! how would anyone get that idea?

“come on, suna! you’ve gotta tell her! gimme your phone, i’ll do it for you!”

“whoa--wait, what?” suna misses the frantic grab for his phone as atsumu swipes it out of his lap. “give me that back--you don’t know my password--hey!”

face id does its job too well as atsumu easily gets into his phone, jumping up and running around as suna leaps up after him and starts chasing him around the room. “i’m doing you a favor!” he yelps, as suna finally catches up to him and tackles him to the floor. “you’ve gotta tell them, how else would you know how they feel?”

“i’ve been trying to tell them!” suna complains. “and i’d prefer to do it on my own terms, thank you very much!” and he grabs his phone back from atsumu.

it takes a few hits and threats for atsumu to finally drop it. suna sinks down onto the floor. what has he done? he’s revealed his deepest secret to the worst secret keeper alive. he runs a hand over his face, contemplating his life decisions. never would he have thought that miya atsumu would know about his crush on you sooner than you yourself.

i’ve got to do it now, he realizes. before atsumu ruins it. i’ve got to tell [y/n] first.

and the time suna rintarō actually confesses to you, he’s secretly stalking you in the library.

he didn’t even realize he had memorized your daily schedule until he found himself walking into the library. what is he doing here? he doesn’t like books. but that question is quickly answered as he spots you turn the corner, a little smile on your face as you admire all the books on the shelf.

he tries to be inconspicuous as he shuffles into the section opposite you, ears and eyes on alert for your every movement. he takes in a little breath--he knows what he wants to say, he’s been practicing after all. and this is a prime time to say it. besides, if he doesn’t say it soon he thinks he’ll burst from holding everything in.

you turn the corner, and he quickly follows to not let you out of his sight. only to run straight into you. your books tumble out of your hands as you stumble backward, a small gasp falling from your lips.

“shit, sorry,” he mutters, reaching down to help you pick up your book. you reach down at the same time, and the two of you hit your heads together.

“ah, sh--” he starts again, before remembering some advice that atsumu had given him on being a gentleman--how could he curse in front of his crush? so ungentlemanlike. he stares at you, squinting a little, rubbing the sore spot on his head. you look up at him, eyes wide, and hastily straighten up after picking up your books.

“rin! i’m so sorry, are you okay?” you reach up and brush his hair out of his eyes.

“yeah, ‘m fine,” he mumbles, his eyes still a little glazed. you bite your lip, setting your books down on the table next to you. then you hastily reach up and take his face into your hands, turning his head this way and that as you examine the damage.

suna blinks, freezing as he feels your hands cup his face. his face heats up almost immediately, and he quickly averts his gaze. “[y/n],” he mumbles.

“hm?”

“can we go somewhere? i gotta talk to you.”

you frown, grabbing your books and hugging them to your chest. “sure, i just gotta check these out first. would the courtyard work?”

he nods.

the walk to the courtyard is one of the most awkward things ever. suna leads you to a quiet, slightly shady location, before clearing his throat. “uh. . .”

he then makes the mistake of looking at you. you’re looking up at him with a little smile on your face, your eyes and hair shining in the sunlight. suna’s heart quickens, then practically stops. all his practiced words fly out of his mouth.

no. wait. he’s wanted this for so long. he takes a deep breath. “i like you,” he blurts out, face heating up.

your eyebrows crease a little. “sorry?” you tilt your head. “wh-what did you say?”

he risks a glance at you and is surprised to see you’re blushing. he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “i-i like you,” he manages again.

your face breaks out into a huge smile. you throw your arms around him, and he staggers back for a second, stunned. “i was waiting for that,” you tell him cheekily. “sure took you a while to finally say it.”

his face goes bright red. “you knew?” he sputters, awkwardly putting his arms around you too.

you look at him, grinning, a pink blush still dusting your cheeks. “everyone’s been teasing me about it for so long now,” you admit.

suna’s heart fills to the brim. he’s so happy he just may burst.

and he doesn’t know who makes the first move, but all of a sudden your lips are on his and he’s nearly fainted from happiness. kissing you is everything he’s dreamed of and more. he melts into your touch, pulling you tight against him. your hands creep up to cup his face, and his rest comfortably on your waist. everything is perfect.

and then--

“ooh! get it, suna!”

he pulls away sharply, eyes darting to the culprit. “i’ll get you, miya!” he threatens, pushing past you to lunge at the snickering twin. atsumu leaps out from behind the bush and starts running, dangling his phone in front of suna and taunting him openly.

as suna chases atsumu around the courtyard, you giggle, hiding your smile behind your hand. “oy, atsumu,” you call out as they run past you. “send that photo to me, will you?”

A/N: hi! i’m so sorry about the long wait lol but i finally got around to writing some more as i’m starting to recover from my concussion. i’m not that great at writing in present tense especially when there’s elements in the past in the story, so my apologies if there are some tense or grammar mistakes

[katsu28]

home cooked meals & crashed dinner dates

pairing: oscar piastri x verstappen!reader

summary: your plan to finally make good on your promise of a home cooked meal for oscar's first win is thwarted by a certain older brother of yours. (3.1k)

warnings: general swearing, overprotective brother max. this is the long awaited part two to maiden wins & secret meet-ups, but can be read as a stand-alone!

a/n: we interrupt your (semi) regular programming of lando to give you more bf oscar!!! wrote most of this pre baku so no second win unfortunately

Everything is perfect. 

You’ve got Oscar’s favorite pasta dish simmering on the stove, a few appetizers ready on the counter, the table set up nicely for two, and your flat is pretty clean.

All that’s left to do is change into something nice and wait for Oscar to arrive, and your promise of a date night with a home cooked meal for his win will have been fulfilled. 

You’re more excited than anything. You haven’t seen Oscar since Hungary because you’ve both been busy, but you managed to find tonight as one night where neither of you have anywhere else to be, no one else to see. All you want to do is spend time with him and love on him as much as you can while you're alone together. 

The doorbell rings just as soon as you’ve slipped into one of your favorite dresses, and for a moment you’re confused, because Oscar isn’t supposed to be here for another twenty minutes.

And Oscar, bless his heart, is never early. 

You push the thought away as you go to open the door because hey, maybe he’s just as excited to spend time with you as you are with him. It’s the only thing on your mind when you pull it open to greet—

“Max? What’re you—” 

Your brother is nudging past you as soon as the door swings open wide enough, completely ignoring your bewildered state in favor of beelining for your sofa and plopping down onto it. He kicks his feet up onto the coffee table in front without a care in the world, settling into the cushions behind him with a loud, relaxed sigh. 

“Um, hello? This isn’t your home, you know! An acknowledgement would be nice before you come barging in. And a warning that you’re coming, but whatever, I guess.” 

He blinks a few times, cocking his head to the side. “Hi. Sorry, I forgot to text, but I figured you’d be home anyways, so…” 

“Right, but I actually have plans soon,” You reply, gesturing vaguely at what you know he knows isn’t your typical staying at home outfit, “as you can see.” 

“Oh, that’s a nice dress,” He hums, motioning for you to do a spin. You don’t humor him with one. Instead you walk over to where he is and shove his dirty shoes off your table, wrinkling your nose at just how annoying he’s being right now. “Bit fancy for a night in though, no?” 

“Thank you. But I’ve got plans,” You say tightly. He gives a firm nod. You wait for him to say something else, but he doesn’t, so you sigh. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Maxie, but what are you doing here?” 

“Can’t I pay my favorite sister a visit without a reason?” 

You try again, with more urgency this time. “Sure, but any other time would be better.” 

Either Max really needs to get his ears checked, or he’s actively choosing to ignore your words, because he grabs the TV remote off the table, patting the seat next to him as he switches it on. 

“C’mon, watch Love Island with me. I’m three episodes behind and I need to catch up before Charles spoils it for me next time we play padel.” 

Frustrated to no end at his inability to listen, you cast a quick glance at the time. Oscar is meant to arrive increasingly soon, you’re no closer to getting Max out of your flat, and you’re a hair's width away from kicking him out with force. 

“Max, I need you to leave.” 

He chuckles, “Why?” 

“Why? Because I have plans, have you not heard anything I’ve said?” You huff, propping your hands on your hips frustratedly. Max sits up from his slouch, looking from you, over towards the food on the counter, the candles and silverware on the table. 

“Are you expecting someone?” He asks incredulously, brows flying high. “Oh my god, are you having a date over?” 

“Maybe. Okay, yes, so you need to go. Like, now.” 

Max ignores you (again), rising to his feet, mirroring your stance and expression scarily accurately. Sometimes you feel like you were meant to be twins in another life with how similar you are every so often. Then you think that he would’ve probably absorbed you in your mum’s womb had you actually been twins.

“Who is it?” 

“I don’t think that’s any of your business, really.” 

“Uh, yes it is! As your brother, it’s my responsibility to make sure whoever my baby sister lets all up in here isn’t a fucking serial killer, for starters.” 

“All up in here? You’re being ridiculous. I’ll have you know I am perfectly capable of doing things on my own, thank you very much.” 

“Uh huh, sure. So what’s their name? What do they do?” 

“Still none of your business!” 

“You’re being evasive.” 

“Yeah, well you’re being invasive.” You level Max with a narrow eyed stare, crossing your arms over your chest. He does the same, but god is he much better at it than you. It makes you let out a sigh, digging the heels of your palm against your eyes. “I love you, Maxie, but I know how you get with people I’ve been in relationships with, and this one…he’s special, okay?”

His glare softens at the pure fondness in your tone, posture relaxing, arms dropping. He studies you for a few moments, like he’s gauging whether or not he should continue with his annoyingly overprotective older brother shtick or drop it all together. “Fine. I still want to know his name though. Full name, first and last. Just so I can do a little background research myself, alright?” 

“Oh, I think you know it already,” You mutter under your breath, more to yourself than anything. 

“What?” 

“Nothing!” You smile at him innocently, shrugging. “Will you go now?” 

Max lets you usher him towards the door, sounding a bit annoyed, but you’ll deal with him later. You’ve still got a bit of time before Oscar’s set to arrive to get Max out, thank goodness. “Yeah, alright. But don’t think I won’t make you call me right after whoever this guy is leaves.” 

“Yeah, sure, of course. Right afterwards, you got it,” You say absentmindedly. You pull open the door for him, well and ready to finally shoo him away—

And then there’s Oscar, one hand reaching for the doorbell, the other clutching a colorful assortment of flowers wrapped in brown paper. 

Fuck. 

Out of all your dates, this just had to be the one time Oscar showed up early.

He’s smiling softly, but as soon as the door swings open and he sees Max standing in front of him, his expression turns into that of a deer in headlights. If you weren’t so all over the place right now, you would’ve found it hilarious. 

“Piastri? What’re you doing here? And why do you have—” Max freezes mid-sentence, eyes ping-ponging between you and Oscar so fast you wouldn’t be surprised if they popped out of his head. “Oh, what the fuck? You’re dating fucking Oscar? And you,” He turns his attention back to the shaken looking Aussie, “you’re dating my sister? What the fuck!” 

“Um…hey, mate. I mean, Max. I mean—hi? Erm, nice to see you too,” Oscar says hesitantly, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck awkwardly. His eyes flick to yours helplessly, begging for a lifeline. 

“Hi, Osc. Don’t mind him, come on in.” You push Max aside with both hands, making room for Oscar to cross the threshold.

Though judging by the slightly nauseous look on his face, Oscar would much rather like to turn around and leave right back the way he came. Max, on the other hand, just stares blankly at the two of you. 

You ease the flowers out of Oscar’s grip, pressing what you hope is a reassuring kiss to his cheek in return. “These are gorgeous.” 

Oscar gives his head a little shake to get himself out of his stupor. “Yeah, I had the florist put together all your favorite flowers.” 

“I love them, thank you. Come with me to the kitchen? The vase is on the top shelf.” You slide your hand into his, tugging him in the direction you want to go and he follows, tearing his wide eyed gaze from Max’s as he stumbles after you. Once you’re safely in the kitchen and out of Max’s earshot, you turn to him. “I am so sorry for springing this onto you without warning, he just showed up like, ten minutes ago and I was just about to get him to leave.” 

“Um, yeah, no it’s—it’s fine. Just caught me off guard a little, is all,” He breathes, bobbing his head. “So he knows about us…?”

“Pretty sure he’s connecting the dots right now, yeah.” You sneak a peek out of the kitchen to see that Max hasn’t moved an inch from his previous position. His body is frozen in place, but you already know his mind is moving a mile a minute. 

You turn back to Oscar, setting aside the flowers on the counter. “I haven’t told him anything else yet, but I think at this point, we might have to. Only if you’re okay with it, though. I can still tell him to fuck off if you want.” 

Oscar’s hands slide up your arms, rubbing your shoulders soothingly, calmly. “I’m okay with it. I’ve had you all to myself the last five months, I’m ready to take the next step in our relationship.” He folds you into his embrace, strong arms wrapping around you tightly. Your cheek presses against the firm, sturdiness of his chest, helping settle you in that way it seemed only he could. “Are you?” 

“‘Course I am,” You say firmly, pulling back to look him in the eye. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” 

His lips curve into a small smile, eyes doing that little happy squint thing you love. “Yeah?” 

You kiss him instead of answering, short and sweet, before moving to leave. Max has moved to the living room when you make your way out of the kitchen cautiously with Oscar in tow, and he doesn’t seem to notice you’re both there until you clear your throat. 

His blank gaze flicks to yours, then Oscar behind you before morphing back into the calculating sharpness that you’ve grown accustomed to. 

You’re the one to break the silence. “So…I’m sure you have questions.” 

“That doesn’t even begin to cover it,” He grumbles. 

One thing about your brother, he talks a lot. A real motormouth, so to speak. And right now, he’s got a lot to talk about. He even slips into Dutch for a few minutes at some point, not even noticing when you lean over towards Oscar to translate for him. 

Soon enough you realize he isn’t even talking about your relationship anymore, but has somehow moved on to the faults of his own, which is a whole other can of worms that you really don’t care to discuss. Part of you feels like Max might be projecting a little bit, but you’ll worry about those problems later. 

It isn’t until he loops back around to the topic at hand grumbling something along the lines of you making a mistake by dating Oscar that you stop him with a glare and some choice words of your own. 

“I’m not going to sit here and let you judge me, Max. I am an adult, I don’t have to explain anything to you, let alone who I choose to be in a relationship with,” You say firmly. You’ll lay everything out plain and simple for your brother, who is usually one of the most observant people you know, so things are as clear as possible going forward. “I love Oscar, and there’s nothing you can say that will change that, so you need to find a way to be okay with this.” 

You’re too busy taking a stand against Max’s stubborn nature to notice Oscar right now, but if you had been paying any ounce of attention to him, you would’ve seen his lips quirk up into a wide grin, the straightening of his hunched shoulders. 

He’s pleased, to say the least. For a guy known by the world as being extremely flat and composed, he's nothing but expressive when it comes to you. 

Max, however, does notice the changes in Oscar’s demeanor. The crease between his brows lessens, because shit, he’s never seen Oscar Piastri smile that big before. Never seen Oscar look at anyone the way he’s looking at you now, even as you continue to lecture Max about boundaries. 

“Fucking hell,” He says, dragging a hand back through his hair. It gets you to pause, raising an expectant brow at him. “You’re right. I’m being a total asshole brother, aren’t I?” 

“Yes, you are,” You say pointedly, arms crossed. He drops down onto the couch behind him, hunching over and propping his chin up in his palm with a heavy sigh. 

Guilt tinges at you a little bit at the sight. You know Max means well. He loves you and wants you to be happy, but he gets a little too overprotective of you sometimes. It’s been that way since you were kids. He was away for races a lot, so when he was there he tended to overcompensate. 

You sigh, sitting down next to him. “You’ve always watched out for me, and I’ll always be grateful for everything you’ve done to protect me, but I’m not a little girl anymore, Maxie. It’s time to let me do things on my own.” 

“You’re making me sound so old right now and I hate it,” Max huffs dramatically. “But you have a point. You’re not a little girl anymore, but you’ll always be my little sister.” 

“And you’ll always be my big brother.” 

Max presses his lips into a thin line. “Guess I should leave now, huh?”

You nod faux seriously, patting his knee. He sighs, drags himself to his feet, sticks out his hand towards Oscar for a begrudgingly firm shake before he goes. Then he stops in his tracks about halfway to the front door, whirling around to face Oscar again.

“If you hurt her…well, I won’t even have to kick your ass, because she’ll have already done it for me,” He warns, pointing an accusing finger in his direction.

You fight a smile, because even though you know Oscar would never hurt you, you’re secretly pleased your brother recognizes that you can handle yourself. 

The Australian boy nods solemnly. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“Don’t really know him all that well, huh?” Max teases, the first time he’s looked anything but downright distressed since discovering you’re dating Oscar. You offer him a guilty smile that he rolls his eyes playfully at as he pulls the door open. “Breakfast tomorrow? I’d like to know more about how absolutely fucking blind I’ve been to not know you’ve been seeing Oscar this whole time.” 

“Breakfast sounds good,” You chuckle. “Now for the hundredth time, please leave. I’ve got a date.” 

You let out the biggest sigh in the world as soon as the door slams shut, a little exhausted at the emotional roller coaster you’ve just been on. All this because you wanted to cook your boyfriend a nice meal for a special occasion. 

Oscar’s found his way to the sofa, inviting arms open, soft smile on his face. You plop down next to him with a groan.

You’re only now noticing he’s worn your favorite shirt today, the dark one that hugs his biceps just right and makes the cozy warmth of his brown eyes pop. 

“Reckon that went rather well.”

You scoff, both amused and skeptical. “Seriously?” 

“Well, in my head, I thought he was gonna punch me in the face, so…yeah, I don’t think it went too bad. All things considered.” 

“I feel like I’m always apologizing for things lately,” You sigh, letting your head fall onto Oscar’s shoulder. He exhales in the form of a chuckle, lacing his fingers through yours comfortingly. “And for some reason, my brother seems to be a common denominator. So, I apologize about him too, because we both know he’s too stubborn to say it himself.” 

“Seems like stubbornness runs in the family.” 

You knock your knee against Oscar’s without any real force behind it, rolling your eyes playfully. “Funny. Sorry you had to hear me argue with him.” 

“He’s just being an older brother. I get it.” He shrugs nonchalantly, totally unphased. “Plus, you’re kinda hot when you get mad.” 

“Ha! You’re into that?” 

“Guess I am.” 

“I learn something new about you everyday, don’t I?” 

Oscar just grins knowingly at you, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“I love you too, by the way,” He says later on in the night, when you’re both standing at the kitchen sink. You’re washing dishes from dinner, he’s drying them with a dishcloth.

His tone is completely casual, offhanded, like the way someone might mention how nice the weather is today. 

You blink, brows furrowed in confusion. “Huh?” 

“Earlier, when you were chewing Max out, you said—” He pauses, rubs furiously at a wet spot on the plate clutched in his hands, cheeks going pink. “You said you loved me? Was that just to prove your point, or…” 

If you’re being totally honest, you hadn’t even realized you’d said it. You’ve never shared those three little words with Oscar before, but the more the weight of them sets in, the more you realize it’s true.

You’ve fallen in love with Oscar Piastri without even knowing. 

At the back of your mind, though, you think you’ve known all along. From the first time he’d uttered out an awkward hello in the paddock all those months ago, you were hooked. Since then, being with him was easier than anything else you’ve ever done. Sure, the secrecy and the constant on the go nature that came with being a professional athlete provided a few hurdles, but you like to think you’ve managed to handle them quite well. 

“Uh…hello?” 

Your focus is brought back to real time, where Oscar is looking back at you with a borderline nervous expression gracing his face. 

“Yeah, I do.” You smile warmly. “I love you, Osc.” 

You abandon the sponge clutched in your hand, dropping it in favor of reaching across the dish rack and cradling his cheek in your palm, kissing him gently. 

“Well, that’s a relief. Thought I’d just made a fool of myself right there.” 

He’s got soap suds on his face, one eye scrunched shut at the wetness from your hand, but you think he’s never looked more handsome. He could be wearing the most god awful outfit known to man and you’d still think he’s the best thing you’ve laid eyes on, because you love him and he loves you. 

And really, that’s all you need to feel right where you should be. 

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[onlyonewoman]

You are so valid! I'm on the ace spectrum. Not sex-aversed but simply not very interested and I discovered a couple of years ago that my husband doesn't like kissing. He felt bad for letting me know and I was like "yeah, but if I know YOU don't like it, I wont like it either". We've not kissed for YEARS, unless you count closemouthed pecks and we very rarely kiss on the lips ever. We rarely have sex because, well, none of us are overly interested. He's the one who suggests it when he realises "well, it's been a while" and then I get to think about it and perhaps I'll say yes. I don't find sex uncomfortable during the circumstances, I just don't need it and it has to be done in a certain way as to not be painful. I find light touches painful, for example, and I LOATHE foreplay. Like, sex and kisses aren't part of my love language AT ALL. It can be nice on occasion, yes, but since French kisses are uncomfortable for my husband, there's no way in hell we're doing that. Kissing is NOT fine to him. Sex is, but not kissing. And sex is SOMETIMES fine to me, but I wont suggest it, simply because my brain doesn't give that signal to me. Since I want sex on occasion, we have worked out a way for that to happen together, where my husband simply suggests "how about a fuck?" (yes, those are pretty much the exact words) and I always get startled because I wasn't prepard for the question and I'm most likely lost in some kind of project. Usually, I will go with "yeah, sure, why not" or "okay, but I'm not doing any heavy work here". Because to ME, it's not necessary but it can be a quite nice activity. I have NO problems getting an orgasm and to me, that's the primary goal of fucking. So in this close to 20 years old relationship, we sometimes fuck and never kiss and love each other deeply. We've not shared a bed in years due to highly different sleep patterns and it took time for both of us not to feel bad for it. But as we see it, it's way more important for us to share WAKING TIME together, than sleeping together. Sleep is SO important and we're not gonna sacrifice that for the idea that married couples share a bed. People quite often mistake lack of physical touch as lack of intimacy. We're living in a society where physical contact is something of huge importance and when a couple lack parts of what's considered the norm for romantic relationsips, one can easily feel like there's something wrong with us. And love languages also change with age. I'm currently in the early stages of menopause and christ on a bike to the desert, it's not being kind to my body. On occasion, that makes me feel a bit broken, because it takes time to adjust and menopause is different for everyone going through it. Combined with the fact that I'm on the ace spectrum, sex is currently on the bottom list of my needs. My husband completely respects that, just as I would never ever urge him to kiss me, even if I can miss it. Your boundaries are valid, your love language is vaild and you don't have to kiss anyone for any reason unless you both want to.

How come whenever ppl make arguments about Ace ppl being valid, they're always centered around fucking. It's all "they fuck too y'know" and "they don't have to fuck to be valid" and all that shit. But it's never about kissing.

I'm ace, I've known that, I've known that I don't want an explicit relationship, and that it's ok bc that's what ppl validate in ace peeps, but never about kissing

I always thought "well I might not put out but kissing is fine" and then it almost happens. And then I get asked for a "proper kiss" and I don't

I don't want that, the kiss feels wrong, I feel wrong

People always talk about not have sexual urges as feeling broken, but what about not even "being able to handle a kiss"? Huh? What about that?

What about always thinking kissing's fine and then you realize it's just as off the table as sex, and it feels wrong.

And I know it's not wrong, that I'm not broken for that, but it doesn't feel that way when ur world view is so drastically shifted, when ur feelings of wrongness aren't nearly as addressed as the general idea of what feelings should be wrong

Because people assume kissing is still fine. Oh you don't go all the way? That's fine as long as we can still make out. Oh we can't kiss? Are you sure? You know that's not the same thing?

I just want to feel validated and understood. Is that too much to ask?

[unoislazy]

Promises

Vi x Reader (Part Four)

Friends?

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

“You talk too much.” Vi huffed and with one swift movement turned around and punched the support beam of the tower behind you, causing it to start to crumble to the ground. You looked back towards Vi who had grabbed Cait’s arm and signaled for you to follow behind as she began to run. You sprinted as fast as your legs could carry you as you heard the booming sound of the tower crashing down, leaving Silco behind in a cloud of rage filled dust. 

Once you were a safe enough distance away, You all stopped to regroup for a moment, giving yourselves time to process what just happened. 

“So when were you going to tell me you knew where my sister was this whole time?” Vi asked, to which you looked directly at her and answered,

“I told you, I was getting there but there was a lot happening all at once, what was I supposed to do? Find out you're not dead and then just immediately say ‘hey Vi! I know where your sister is, har har,  let's NOT focus on the fact that you just got stabbed!” You said in an overly dramatic mocking tone as you put on a character to reenact your little hypothetical scene. 

“You could’ve just said something after you got the serum.” She huffed again, her anger not dissipating as she kept her eyes focused on you. 

“Vi, I told you, I was going to tell you but-”

“Why didn’t you?” She interrupted.

“Well you kind of have this annoying habit where you don’t let me talk so…” You said in a sarcastic tone as you looked away from her. She sighed, cupping the side of her face with one of her battered hands. She was just healed not even twenty minutes ago and she’s already put her body at risk of another injury. 

“Hey, you’re not sin free either here Vi. You’re working with a pilty? I tried to ignore it to stay out of your business but you want to get on MY case for working with the wrong side?” You argued. Vi was an older sister through and through, she was always quick to correct the actions of others without having the time to think about herself. You couldn’t blame her, with everything she’s probably been through in the last 48 hours, it’s a lot to grapple with all this new information. But just because it was hard on her doesn’t mean you were just going to let her off the hook. 

“No offense Caitlyn but I could tell you weren’t from here with just one look.” You said to her, as she looked over to you as she quickly shook her head. 

“I’m not-” She began to speak before Vi spoke over her once again.

“Leave her out of this.” 

You glanced at Caitlyn as she rolled her eyes before looking back at Vi.

“Vi how can I leave her out of this when you’re doing the exact thing you’re upset at me for. Well… maybe not the exact thing unless she’s an enforcer but there's no way you’d-” You paused. Once those words left your mouth there was a sudden silence that fell over the two of them as Caitlyn averted eye contact. 

“No. No way.” You finally managed to speak up as you looked between Vi and Cait. 

“How do you think she got me out of Stillwater?”

“Vi really? That’s clearly not the point here!”

“She needed information against Silco, that’s why she's here,” Vi excused, 

“Holy shit. I never thought I’d live to see the day when THE Violet goes out of her way to defend an ENFOR- an enforcer?!” You stumbled over your words a bit in disbelief as you held your hands up to your forehead and pushed the back over your hairline. 

Vi was quiet now. It seemed to have hit her a bit more now that she was actually taking your reaction into consideration.

“I’m here to help.” Caitlyn spoke up, causing you to look at her. You had no real reason to not trust her, she hadn’t done anything to warrant you being hesitant of her, if anything she showed you could trust her as she had given up her valuable gun without hesitation for the sake of helping Vi.

“To help who exactly? What do you even need this information for?” You asked. In your mind whenever an enforcer came down here to ‘help’ it was just because the Pilties were uncomfortable and they needed to display they’re military power against the poor people of Zaun.

“There’s an ongoing investigation involving someone named Jinx, linked to the Progress Day attack.” Cait explained which caused you to look back at Vi.

“Oh yeah, that’s gonna go well. I can totally see how this will all work out perfectly and there won't be a conflict with that at all in the slightest.” You remarked sarcastically as you crossed your arms. Did Vi seriously expect this enforcer to just let her sister go without any reason, especially if she was the one behind the attacks? Caitlyn looked at you with confusion, it seemed was a little behind on connecting the dots but all her questions would soon be answered as you looked over to Vi. 

She was staring at something off in the distance, her eyes locked on with a mesmerized air about her. 

“Vi what are you-” You were about to ask but you got your answer as you turned to see the blue cloud of smoke filling the air. 

Powder. 

Without another word you and Vi began running towards the direction of the smoke. Cait followed close behind, clearly confused as to what the sudden urgency was for, but you weren’t going to explain it to her. You couldn’t. If there was any hope of Vi getting out of this with her sister it would be by you keeping your mouth shut. 

Just as the smoke was starting to diffuse, you all made your way up. Vi was the first to greet her sister and you were a close second. As you walked up, you saw the two girls clinging to each other as they reunited for the first time in years. You kept your distance so as to not ruin the moment until Jinx noticed you. 

“You’re here too? I thought… I thought you left?” She asked as Vi released her from the hug to look back at you. You walked up closer to them with a smile on your face. You always kept your distance when it came to Powder, you were just there if she needed you but out of fear of Silco you didn’t get too close. You didn’t realize it would affect her at all if you had left, but it seems she noticed after all. You nodded at her and in that moment you didn’t see the Jinx that you were used to showing up and tormenting people for fun. You saw the young girl who used to create things and show them off to you with pride when you’d visit. You saw Powder and it was clear that Vi did too. 

But before you could all get too comfortable, you all heard the sound of Caitlyn catching up behind you. You felt a little bad for having ditched her but you knew how important this was to Vi, even if you did have your disagreements on other things.

Powder quickly reached for the gun that was strapped to her and aimed it at Caitlyn. 

“Who is she?” She asked and just like that you could see Jinx take over once again. 

“Who are you?” Cait asked back in a lower tone as she looked between Vi and Jinx. Vi quickly jumped in to be a mediator to try and keep Jinx from attacking Caitlyn.

“It’s okay… she's a friend.” Vi said, holding her arm out to Jinx as she tried to convince her. You couldn’t help but silently wonder to yourself “Is she though?” Cait hadn’t given you any direct reason to dislike her but you still wanted to be cautious. 

But it was going to take more than a couple words to undo all the trauma associated with enforcers for the blue haired girl. 

“Your sister is Jinx?” Cait asked. 

“Listen we can work this out-” Vi tried to keep things together as she often did but it wasn't working. Cait was set on her role as an enforcer, here for the blue orb thingy. You truthfully had no idea that was even involved in the equation until you watched her spot it. 

“Hm, it’s almost like someone called this.” You muttered quietly before looking back over to Jinx.

“This is a trick, you're playing me!”  Jinx shouted, aiming her gun at Vi, then you, then Caitlyn before covering her ears as she turned away.

“Shut up!” She screamed. 

“We didn’t say anything?” You shot Caitlyn a look. If there was ever a time to make a snippy comment, it was definitely not when the girl who is hearing voices has a minigun aimed directly for you. You watched as Jinx slowly began to spiral, as she often did when some news of something involving Powder would come up. You weren't exactly surprised it was happening, but you knew how irrational she could get and you'd be damned if you knew how to stop her. 

As Vi continued to try and get Jinx to calm down, you heard a low rumbling noise, it was hard to hear at first so you ignored it, paying more attention to Jinx and Vi but the longer you ignored it the louder it went until Jinx finally noticed it as well. 

You all turned to the sound and realized it was none other than 

“The firelights.” You whispered before your voice was quickly drowned out by the rapid firing sound of Jinx’s gun. You quickly ducked and covered your ears to get out of the way of Jinx’s sporadic aim. In seconds, multiple firelights joined their leader and came swooping down among you all. Luckily once Vi hit one off of their board you were able to grab a weapon to help fight alongside them. You weren’t the best at fighting, you were never trained, but to survive in the Undercity you’d have to at least be able to keep your face out of the way of an oncoming attack. 

As you continued to fight you looked around after a while and noticed that Caitlyn was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she was just hiding.

Or maybe she just got what she needed and left. 

You didn’t give too much attention to her disappearance as you found yourself fighting alongside Jinx. You listened as she took joy in the blaring sound of her gun firing before it was quickly replaced by a crazed rage. She switched back and forth between emotions like night and day as you fought together. Once Jinx had successfully cornered one of them, you noticed a distinct lack of fighting noises as you turned around.

That when you saw her.

Vi, knocked out on the shoulder of one of the firelights. Suddenly all the petty anger you felt when arguing with her earlier dispersed as you realized the very real possibility that you were about to lose her again. You had time to spend with her and you took it for granted. You spent it arguing. 

“Vi!” You cried, which quickly caught Jinx’s attention. Once she too noticed that they had taken Vi, she quickly charged at them only to be covered in a plume of smoke. You tried your best not to inhale whatever black substance was used to create the smoke.

And as the cloud dissipated you realized…

She was gone.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

trying to put it into words / shining just for you

osamu dazai x reader

thoughts about helping dazai change his bandages. for the yail series 🫧

inspired by mirrorball

he always running back home to you.

well, not always running. most of the time, he’s in a cab after a night drinking alone. or, he’s walking through the dimly lit streets of yokohama, something he can do as a man. simply put, he’s always returning to you.

he only gets an hour or two of sunshine each day. but its fine by him, if it means he stays handcuffed to you. he adores that smile, and wonders why you go to such great lengths to even catch a glimpse of it- a genuine one, at that.

he’s used to the perfomances, to calling you his pretty baby and giving you kisses on the forehead. he’s used to wrapping his arms around your waist while you cook, whispering some filthy thing about double suicide while complimenting you’re new perfume. he smiles, jokes, and acts for the masquerade revellers around him. he’ll get you out on the floor, shimmering beautiful, all to hide the pain that resides beneath the surface.

and sometimes, you’ll watch even as his shattered, bloodied edges glisten. he’s smart, and calculated, and a good man- at least, thats what he wants people to think. when he breaks, its in a million pieces.

however, late on a hush night, when no one is around, you can catch a glimpse of his vulnerability.

“what happened to you!?” you scold, heaving him into the apartment. he can walk fine, but you need him in your arms to know he’s alive. blood stains your clothes and your floor, but mostly his wrists, soaking into the white gauze that covers his arms.

“i have a lot of enemies, bella.” he chuckles, hoping you didn’t see the way his eyes wince in pain when you examine his injuries closer. he’s either hazy from blood loss, or lightheaded from seeing you so worried. maybe both.

he’s hoping to avoid the inevitable. you’ll have to replace his bandages.

but he’s in too much pain to complain.

“samu.” you whisper, catching his attention. normally, he’d answer with a ‘yes, beautiful?’ or something flirty along those lines. but right now, he’s wounded, coming to you only half his weight.

you place a hand in his cheek. yes, the blood is bad. but the sadness in his eyes, the pure defeat, is so much worse.

“i’ll take care of you.” you say as you slowly begin to unravel the fabric.

he takes a deep breath, feeling the bloodied gauze peeling off from his skin. you’re about to see the labour, the locks and the pain he tries to keep hidden. he just wants to make you happy. and he worries this’ll do the opposite.

examining the injuries on his arm, you surmise a few stitches will do. but the multiple scars, faded with time and littering his skin, isn’t lost on you.

you tilt your head, lips quivering as you look at him. his eyes are looking downwards, head tilted avoiding your gaze. he’s trying to control his heartbeat like could do so easily in other intense situations. his hand squeezes yours tighter every passing minute.

he’s scared.

he ignores the sting of water and soap when you wash away the blood. he feels like the end is near, but he’s still on his tiptoes just wanting to shine for you and for everyone. he doesn’t want to be vulnerable. whether its a demon prodigy or a changed, good man, he’s afraid of being hurt.

but your touch calls of the circus and burns the disco down, gently handling his injury as you stitch it up. even when he’s still on that tightrope, still doing everything to keep you laughing at him, you stay. you stay for the charades and help him find himself afterwards.

he isn’t used to this.

but he won’t reject it.

dazai blinks staring at his injury, now tended too. he’ll have to let yosano check it in the morning, but for now, its enough.

he opens his mouth to make a joke about his near death experience. anything to avoid emotions, anything to keep you looking at him. he’s never been a natural. he just wants to try, try, and try.

but for once, he doesn’t feel like he needs to stay on that trapeze. with you, he can step down, and take a break from the show.

“thank you.” he whispers, hugging you with his good arm. “you saved my life.”

he makes sure to bury his face in your shoulder so you can’t see the pain, that true pain, etched on his face.

the calculations in his brain, the puzzles that told him vulnerability hurts you, didn’t add up to this. he showed you his weakness behind the circus show, and he was met with something else.

love. he concludes, feeling your arms hug him back.

“you scared me.” you sigh, kissing his cheek. “don’t do that again.”

he chuckles, and smiles. “no promises, belladonna.”

[deathbxnny]

Haiiii Can we get like a oneshot of Vi x f!drunk reader? Maybe where reader is like rlly flirty and horny when drunk and wants to have fun with Vi but obviously Vi doesn’t do anything and just tries to take care of her?

Vi taking care of drunk fem!Reader.

This was written by someone who has never touched alcohol, so I hope it's not too bad-

Content: alcohol, reader is drunk as hell, established relationship, SFW

Reader is asked to be afab and uses she/her pronouns!

((Not proofread))

"Damnit... you drank way too much this time around, cupcake..." Vi sighed out with a shake of her head as she hauled you into your shared home after a long night out in Zaun's busy bars. You were just giggling to yourself at her words, finding them silly and untrue, of course. You weren't drunk at all! Far from it, actually. Never mind your inability to see clearly or walk straight for that matter.

"I'm... not drunk! I uh... yeah." Your girlfriend rolled her eyes at your oh-so-convincing argument whilst she made you sit on the couch in your living room. Trying to just get you to bed as fast as possible, she kneeled down infront of you to take your shoes off, eyes focused on her task at hand and yet you were far from interested in resting now. No, you had plans.

Plans that involved her.

"Hey... what are ya' doin'?" You asked, not even trying to pronounce your words properly anymore. Your hands came up to play with her short pink hair before they slid down to cup her face. Glancing up at you, she raised a slight brow. She knew that look in your eyes. But not tonight, she thought. Not when you're literally unable to even sit up right. "Getting you ready for bed." "Oooh... I love the sound of that!" Deadpanning, she fought the urge to sigh in disappointment. Typical. And usually, she'd indulge in your wishes, but again, not like this.

"Nope, not like that. Now come on, let's get ya to bed, pretty." She said, quick to pick you up with scary ease that made your heart flutter and giggle in excitement. Yet that all slipped away when you processed her clear rejection. "Whattttt?? But the bed is right thereee." "Sure is, princess." It was honestly really amusing to see you so needy for her. And whilst she was stressing a bit, it definitely made for good material to tease you with later.

Carefully laying you down onto the bed, she couldn't help but chuckle at the way you began melting into the mattress involuntarily. "Ya look reallyyy good tonight, Vi-" "-Thanks. Drink this water for me, please." She hummed, skillfully distracting you as though she had been through this a million times before. She gave you no chance to argue back either, with the way she simply made you drink a whole glass of water whilst making sure the bed was fluffy and comfortable enough for you to be in.

All you could do was pout and give her a defeated glare that made her smile. "Sorry, but that's just how things are gonna be tonight, alright? Besides, I bet you're really tired." And you absolutely were, much to your dismay. Vi on the other hand, knew that you were going to get a deadly headache once you woke up and went ahead to place some painkillers and a bucket, just in case, at your bedside table. She needed to prepare everything for your approaching doom the best she could, after all.

Her attention was averted back to you when she noticed you having fallen asleep whilst she was taking care of you. A gentle smile rested on her face, your image mirroring in Vi's eyes lovingly as she admired your form. "Well... that was fast. So much for not being drunk, ey?" But she didn't mind it. After getting ready herself, she pulled you into a tight embrace and fell asleep as well, glad to have you safe and sound with her.

And even if you were unfortunately rejected tonight... there is always tomorrow.

[canmom]

a polemic

every so often you see a conversation on this website that goes like this:

based story game enjoyer: D&D is a limiting game because of xyz design assumptions. cringe D&D fan: actually I changed these assumptions by editing the game to fit my group's needs. it works pretty good. story game chad, closing in for the kill: have you considered playing the perfectly designed game for your scenario that surely exists out there in the indie game milieu? you wouldn't have to homebrew. you'd be having better fun. foolish and wrong D&D incel: but I am already having fun with "modified D&D" and I don't particularly see a need to do that thing you said. wise story game sage, a single tear rolling down their perfectly sculpted face: do you not see that defending D&D, the product printed by Hasbro Inc., by pointing out that you can modify it, is self-defeating? tragic. there is no hope for these people. 42069 notes

along such lines, i saw someone today refer to homebrew in TTRPGs pejoratively as 'unpaid game design' and like. my fucking god guys. i don't love D&D-as-printed either but you've lost the plot.

not only is it good to modify the games you play and make them your own, it is inevitable. nobody ever plays TTRPGs exactly 'by the book', it's always filtered through the dynamic of the group. yes, even in those games that literally tell you exactly what to say like the quiet year or whatever.

you will ignore rules and guidelines. you will put your own interpretation on the wording of this or that rule. you will develop your own rhythms and at some point, yes, you can, will, and should change the rules to better fit whatever you're doing with the game.

the designer may throw up their hands and say "you are no longer playing Sorcerer By Ron Edwards, you are playing some other game! you're messing up my perfectly tuned mechanism!"

let them. it's an understandable frustration, perhaps, but once the game is in the hands of the players, the designer has had their say.

play the game you want to play, even - especially - if you have to invent it. use whatever tools you find useful to help you get there - whether that's a printed RPG book, a blog post, a memory of another game, a story that inspires you. maybe you want to take some existing and familiar system, such as PbtA, and adapt it - awesome (I reckon 95% of indie game designers pretty much do this). maybe you want to start from scratch and make a bespoke system for that one story - also awesome.

'this book requires a lot of work to adapt into something decent' is a fair criticism. 'nobody even plays this game by the book, so it's a bad game' is dogmatism. what game do they play? how do they learn to play it? what function is the book providing in that game? if you want to criticise a game, you need to talk about actual practice. there can be plenty to criticise there, for sure. but that's where you gotta start.

and sure, if someone wants to design a game, particularly to print, I would definitely recommend they look beyond D&D for inspiration. there are some really fucking cool and creative indie games that come up with wild ways to approach 'making up a story through a game' that I'd never have imagined. very often it's fun to follow a designer's frame and discover something new.

but don't make a fucking religion of it lmao.

[24kvlaksworld]

ONLY YOU

Prompt: How slashers act when they’re jealous/outbursts/reassurance.

-

MICHAEL MYERS

Believe it or not Michael is a very jealous boy. He just doesn’t believe he is, he is simply “doing what he usually does.”

When Michaels jealous it isn’t a pretty sight. He can become very hostile towards you or innocent bystanders.

Though he is very jealous it doesn’t happen very often, because he’s barely home so it’s unlikely.

When he’s mildly jealous he’d scare you, just to make sure you know who you belong to and simply kill whoever threatened your “relationship.”

If he’s very jealous, he’d actually harm you. Slight slices or soft choking. Taunting you by leaving bodies around the house.

Though don’t think just because he’s a little dangerous that he doesn’t need reassurance, it helps a little to watch you reject people.

Tell people you have a boyfriend, while mentioning his name.

Makes him almost fond of what you do, knowing that you’re his and you’re not ashamed to tell others that you are too.

If you did manage to make him feel slightly good he’d become even more protective, wanting you be only his and making it clear.

Sometimes you have to try and convince him to stay hidden when a neighbor or something knocks because of his jealousy.

There was one time he just popped out and stabbed the couple just because her husband looked at you a little too long.

And he wears the murders like a fucking badge of honor, sometimes seeing their heads propped up on a counter randomly.

Hearing you scream was another thrill.

But one thing that made Michael twitch, or snap. Some would even say go crazier is if someone would to hurt you, or even make you scream.

There was a time you had gotten into an altercation with someone walking down the street as someone let their dog shit on your and Michaels yard.

It was in the middle of the night too, and they had just left it there. The only reason you knew is because you caught them on camera.

So Michael being the lovely boyfriend he is he went to their house and slaughtered her teenage daughter, leaving her there to grieve.

You didn’t even find out until it was all over the news and the search for Haddonfield killer began again.

To be honest you didn’t even know what the two of you were, he just didn’t let you around anyone else, any men mainly. Or outside in general, courting you in his own animalistic way.

Sometimes if you made him incredibly angry he’d disappear, leaving you isolated after his killing spree.

After his jealous encounters he’d barely let you out the house, and you didn’t dare to disobey him even when he was gone because it was like he always had eyes on you.

Always lurking, it felt good knowing that you were protected, but not as much knowing he’d kill a person if they looked at you in the wrong way.

—

Jason Voorhees

Jason is super jealous, he could be considered murderous jealousy but typically he relies on your reassurance and loyalty.

There are times where he does kill when he feel like he needs too, but only when you seem to feel uncomfortable and harassed.

Jason is big and scary but when it comes down to you two he becomes soft, shy even.

After an outburst, he’d feel insecure a little ashamed he felt that way. He’d come to you, and sit there letting you comfort him.

Jason isn’t really vocal about how he feels so he relies on you to understand him by body language.

When you do he feels so excited, happy even. Nuzzling his head into you.

He doesn’t really get jealous just insecure, a bit of sad jealousy.

Though sometimes, very very rarely. When he’s angry and jealous he’d become overprotective. I mean he’d keep you locked up in the house.

Especially if you were almost hurt in the middle of the ruckus, he’d literally chain every exit or entrance of your cabin up and keep you locked in there until everything was over.

Sometimes you’d get into arguments because of how annoying his jealous habits could get.

Sometimes it’d either hurt his feelings and cause him to go into hiding or argue back, he’d thrash things around or yell. He couldn’t really speak so it’d just be verbal roaring.

He’d apologize after but his behavior is very repetitive and hard to deal with. Though he’s sweet enough to pick flowers and apologize harder later.

—

Bubba sawyer

Dangerously jealous, though there isn’t really time for him to act on it unless you tell him too. Of course he’d act if you were in danger or so he’d just stay by your sides when he could.

Though when he has time, he does. You’d be talking to a soon to be victim and he’d come revving his chainsaw and in seconds he slaughtered whoever was talking to you.

Though he’s still very insecure, especially when it came down to you helping out and flirting with the victims to lure them in.

He’d get upset angry and even try to argue to get you out of helping.

He’d whine to you about it, shout and scream. Though it’s easy to shut him up with some reassurance and a kiss.

Him being jealous is a common occurrence, nothing out of the ordinary.

He doesn’t even trust his family around you, always watching. Keeping an eye out, unless you were with his mother.

Sometimes if you end up being left with Hoyt or any male for God knows why he’d start arguments with his family.

Grabbing you and taking you upstairs and forcing you to stay in the room, and throwing tempter tantrums when you didn’t. 

He’d cry when you get mad at him, and throw things around when he was jealous. It was annoying watching him act like a child.

He’d ignore you , give you the silent treatment. It was practically like dealing with a child.

You reassuring him had become a daily task at that point.

—

Pretzel Jack

Attention jealousy, There had been one time where you were hanging out with another imaginary friend and he got sad and snapped.

When you got mad at him he had a long frown, he just wanted your attention, just wanted to play.

He hated when your attention was on other people, like a spouse or friend.

Which is why he was so happy when you got mad at them, and he finally could kill them!

Typically murders are sort of your fault because you should be able to control your anger and keep him under control.

If he’s jealous he’s quick to try and do some tricks to get your attention, and if it failed he’d wail around or have an outburst.

Or go to extreme efforts to get you to smile.

If all else fails, he kills your other friend. And *poof!* you’re his again.

Jack is very overprotective, so it’s more or so him just trying to protect you.

He doesn’t even know what jealousy is he just feels a throbbing in his hands and acts on it.

After doing whatever he did he’d play or lay near you. Making sure to keep everyone away whilst it was just the two of you.

And if you found out what he did and got mad he’d punish himself by keeping himself away from you unless you were in trouble.

Or he’d get really sad and hide away.

When he was jealous it was sort of funny, he’d go to the extreme just to see you crack a smirk or just look his way.

Sometimes purposely sulking in the corner to see if you’d check on him.

Of course you did and your silly Jack was back. Though that didn’t stop him from becoming jealous over and over again. Having to reassure him that he’s your favorite and always will be.

—

Gabriel may

Gabriel was the wrong guy to get jealous, he’d lock you away and keep you to himself.

He’d kill anyone who threatened your relationship, not just because of his obsessive personality but because he was insecure as a whole.

He believed that anyone could take you away, woman or men because he believed he wasn’t attractive enough to keep you.

He’d scare them away, flickering the lights or growling through a phone or radio.

And if that didn’t work, he’d just see them later tonight so they wouldn’t even share the same world as you anymore.

Gabriel didn’t believe he needed reassurance, though he did enjoy it he hid it well.

He believed that it was naturally for a man to become overprotective of his partner, he wouldn’t even consider himself overprotective.

He didn’t care if you rejected whoever wanted you, they shouldn’t have thought about you romantically in the first place.

Now they literally have to die.

The difference between him and any other guy is you can’t talk him out of it, when he’s made up his mind, it’s no longer a thought but a soon to be decision.

He’d come home and pretend nothing happened, that it was an ordinary day after he just shoved a knife into an innocent man’s jugular just for having a slight crush on you.

Though if you got sad about it, he’d become insecure and angry.

Wondering why’d you care about any guy that isn’t him, or anyone that isn’t him at all. It was scary watching Gabriel become angry because he couldn’t really control his powers.

The lights will start to flicker, phones going on and off and radio blasting static. The walls vibrating and cabinets clattering.

Of course you’d tell him there’s no one else but as I said reassurance doesn’t really work on him. So you either just let him blow a fuse until he’s all fired out. Or you just ignore him,

But that won’t get you anywhere but him thinking you love someone else.

—

Jacob Goodnight

Though you rejected anyone’s crush proposal to you Jacob still got angry.

He’d bash their brains out saying you’d never date filthy sluts or impure people like them.

There were quiet times too, where’d when he got jealous he’d just come whining to you, and ask you if you loved him despite all he’s done.

And when you’d tell him yes he’d go back to blundering young adults to death before coming to ask you the same question again.

Just to make sure you wanted to be with him despite what he is and what he can’t help but be.

Though it is very easy to reassure Jacob, he trust you with his whole heart.

Sometimes he gets jealous but he can’t help it, there’s always someone that’s going to be attracted to you

He just didn’t like the thoughts of sinners, especially sinners being attracted to you.

—

Norman bates (old)

Norman his mother were very jealous people, she couldn’t stand the thought of someone hurting her poor boy and him having his first heartbreak.

So she did what any mother would do, kill them or convince Norman too.

She’d whisper cheeky little things in his ear, telling him if he didn’t eliminate them soon they’d become competition.

And eventually Norman just began the killing on his own.

Norman was extremely jealous, so he stuck by your side. Quick to speak up when someone was flirting with you.

Of course he stuttered and fumbled over his words but he knew he had to stand over you because you were his.

And he wasn’t going to let anyone take you away, not even his mother.

He’d hold your hand everywhere, even in the house, he was weirdly obsessive.

Randomly kissing your palm and each knuckle, telling you how much he loved you so randomly in the most awkward situations.

It was hard to use the bathroom alone without Norman knocking wondering how long it’d take before he got to see you again.

You could barely leave the house, when you two started dating he wanted you to move in immediately.

You barely had any say!

But he just wanted you there fast so he could watch your every move and ward off any other competitors.

If you went on a walk by yourself he’d bombarde you with questions, why didn’t you tell him, did you want some distance from him?

What did he do?

It must’ve been that man he was letting stay in the hotel, he has to get rid of him now. That’s what mother would’ve wanted and, it’s what he wants.

Why is he cleaning up blood?

Oh a rat got in that’s all. He’d pat your head giving you soft forehead kisses before waving you off.

When you two get home he’d make you a sandwich and ask you about your walk, about the scenery. If you had any small talk with a stranger.

Of course you knew it was because of his jealousy,

But Norman was so timid you thought it was cute, not that he could kill somebody!

Kissing your cheek with clenching your shoulders hard, confessing what he did. Because the pressure was too much to keep from his beloved.

You forgive him? Oh thank God, that means he can do it again right? You didn’t say not too exactly.

—

Charles Lee Ray.

Charles was the wrong person to make jealous, he’d either put you in your place or kill you both! So you had to be careful,

There was one time a guy came up to you in the grocery store and before you could say anything there was Charles with a pistol up to his back.

He made the guy get on his knees and beg for fucks sake.

After that he yelled at you for even letting the guy in your proximity.

Charles was the type to get sexual when he was angry, angry intimacy.

Either that or blowing the guys head off and going on the run from the police because of it again.

He always expected you to wait for him, whether he was gone for months or years.

And one day he expected you to take him back even when he was a fucking doll!

It was ridiculous, he was always getting himself into some shit and wanting to come back into your arms.

Sad to say the maniac did have his soft moments, where he’d come home after a long run and fall straight into your arms with a snore.

Happy to be back, and happy to see you waiting for him.

Not really like you had a choice though. It’s either you did or your head would meet the back of his famous pistol.

There was no escape from Charles, and his rash jealousy and anger.

It was sort of nice for him to want you and only you, kinda awkward watching him call other woman whores though.

In the beginning he was a cheater, believing that he couldn’t trust anyone, that was until you were fed up of his bullshit and tried to leave him.

Crying, telling him how much he meant to you but you were so tired.

And ever since then the fuck didn’t leave your side, at first it started as threats, stalking and eventually you getting a restraining order.

But that didn’t keep him away, not even prison.

The police had given up before you did so you were sort of stuck, and with him threatening to kill anyone that tried make a move on you.

And eventually, he kept calling you his and you just settled with it.

Not like there was anything you could do.

—

Pennywise

You weren’t dating him, more like stuck with him. A chain on your ankle strapped to Satan who’s asleep.

And when he wakes up, he eats.

You were fairly attractive, and after all he was sort of a kid killer so any time some teenager cat called you he was hungry.

He’d laugh at you, taunting, making you believe you could escape before trapping you right again.

Devouring whoever wanted you in front of your very eyes.

One time you tried to defeat him to kill him, you tried to say hurtful things like “you only kill kids you fucking creep.”

And it backfired.

He laughed and left, the next day you heard screaming. And hid until it was safe to come out. Seeing hundreds of adult corpses, men, woman.

And he sat on top, chomping on a leg like a king on a throne.

Laughing loud, his yellow eyes glowing fiercely in the dark.

Now it was different with men, or any adult who tried to hit on you so ever. He needed food, so he couldn’t kill all the adults and stop the production.

So he did what any intelligent psychopath would do, he killed their kids. Not only will whoever hit on you suffer, he gets fed too.

And if they didn’t have kids he’d just kill them, wasn’t a lot of fun for him but still.

He’d play games on you, pretending that they were going to save you until their head randomly fell of their body.

His laughing came quick his same little dance and taunting.

Though there was one odd time he went out of character, a time where he had been sleeping, or what they thought had been “defeated.

And someone, kept cat calling you, drunkard. Enough to come up to you and grasp your arms and started touching you.

You shocked yourself, because you knew the first name you screamed.

And it was unlike him to not play around with his food first, but he came. Broad daylight. And cut his neck clean off.

His eyes were a light blue and full of anger yet worry.

He grabbed you and carried you to the sewers, trying to force you to sleep through the rest of the years with him.

To keep you safe in a way.

But you had to explain to him that you couldn’t, remembering you were human and didn’t need yearly hibernation.

He was reluctant but at least made you stay down for two days, keeping you safe and fed until you needed to leave, for personal hygiene and job reasons.

Not like you needed to work anyway, he’d just kill anyone who tried to kick you out.

When he woke up he ate first, devouring everything because he didn’t trust himself being hungry and going to see you.

Of course he scared you as his little welcoming.

But sometimes he’d nuzzle into the crook of your stomach, he was technically an alien, he had his animal like tendencies.

He was weirdly possessive, he didn’t even understand his own jealousy. Watching you flirt with a random guy who wanted to help carry what he stated a “attractive.” Persons groceries.

Watching you smile, pick at your skin and cover your teeth as you giggled made him angry.

And he was going to make both of you pay for it.

Of course he killed the man first, he was really focused on you. He courted you, waited for you, protected you, and sometimes even fed you. And this what you do to him? Ungrateful human.

He’d come to your home welcoming himself, not announcing it or anything. Scaring you, taking the form of a human intruder.

Pretending to try and kill you before transforming back with a laugh in his face, before you could argue with him he widened his jaw and went to take a bite.

You screamed but he covered your mouth.

He didn’t let go, it wasn’t deep enough to puncture your skin but enough to bruise you.

And he stayed there, you slept with his teeth latched onto your skin.

He was fast asleep, almost subconsciously doing it.

Tightening inch by inch every time you tried to move his jaw.

—

Patrick Bateman

Patrick getting jealous was rare, he never felt that way unless he felt someone was superior than him.

Or someone caught your attention, which was hard to do.

When Patrick was jealous he’d work out more, try to become extra perfect so you’d never advert your eyes again.

Wearing more expensive and stylish clothes, or taking you shopping.

Dressing you so luxurious anyone would assume you were married.

So jealous that he proposed, making you a housewife so that you couldn’t escape. And every time you went out with those “whore.” Friends any cuck that wanted you would know you’re taken.

He wish he could just fucking label you, but god he wouldn’t want to ruin that god forsaken perfect skin.

He’d even solve his jealousy through intimacy.

Doing what he considered a God worthy performance, showing you that no one could make you happy as much as he does, pleasured, taken care of, loved.

Hell anything.

But there was a point where he had to, take things into his own…gloved, hands.

You had this male close friend, this handsome idiot that you knew since high school, through college, and now.

He was perfect, he had money, fit, nice skin. And it didn’t even look like he was trying, and to top it off he was intelligent.

Anytime you’d come back from hanging out with him you’d refer to him as a ‘cute little geek.’ And he was already having a bad day he just needed some release.

So when your friend bumped into Patrick on the street so dumbly looking for you. Can you believe this?

He was confessing his love for you, to Patrick!

The taxi was full of his confession and Patrick’s occasional “oh really?” Right before he beat the pore guy to death with his golf club.

It was sloppier than usual but he couldn’t have someone talking about his precious only ever in such a way.

When you found out about your friends death you were devastated, he comforted you but couldn’t hide the scowl on his face.

Why did you care so much? Why were you crying so hard about a man that wasn’t him?

He enjoyed you sleeping on him but still couldn’t believe how broken down you were after losing another guy.

You eventually got acquainted with Patrick’s “friends.” And you suppose word got around that you were his because men started to avoid you.

Maybe because Patrick always stood behind you with his threatening demeanor but still.

You eventually got happier but couldn’t help but notice how over protective Patrick got.

Patrick loved how soft you were emotionally and just didn’t want anyone else to have it.

He’d lay his head in your palm and sit there for hours. Before going back to his nonchalant monotonous ways.

[perfectlyvalid49]

Sorry for grossing you out but uh, I have a complex claim to a lot of religions and cultures because of how colonialism (arguably Israel is a settler colony state so uh… hmmm) has impacted me.

As you’ve ascertained (correctly) I’m a non-Jewish American, only by technicality, because I haven’t found a rabbi that will even support the fact that I’m gay and the “three asks” thing feels like a troll move which feels… homophobic???

I need you to seriously consider how my life has been negatively influenced (hence the circumcision poll) by a bastardized JEWISH practice, and what the fuck that means for my identity as it feels like fate to some degree and a bit offensive that you would yuck my ability to find yum in Yhwh or w/e because I’m… too much of a faggoy? Idk man… just asking questions. I’d love to clarify your response in a dm since its… a lot. Not meaning to offend just sick of being put in a box because my circumcision and mother aren’t “right” enough to be in the in club because Hekate or Satan or whatever swooped in and said “NOPE” 🙃

Cheers

Trying to understand Israel through the lens of settler colonialism is a failing proposition. Consider the following:

Jews are indigenous to Israel. We have a historical record that says they’re from there in both the Greek and Roman written record. Like there is as much if not more evidence of Jews in Israel in Roman writing as there is of Julius Caesar being a real person. We also have archaeological evidence. Israel is covered with digs that find evidence of Jewish life dating back 2,000-3,000 years. We also have genetic evidence. DNA studies have shown that even super white looking Ashkenazi Jews have significant portions of DNA that are most closely related to other groups from the southern Levant.

So to call Jews settlers either denies all that evidence, insists that indigenous people can be settlers on their own land, or posits that indigenous people can somehow lose their status as indigenous if you wait long enough. The first is anti-intellectual and antisemitic, the second is ridiculous and the third is a dangerous line of thinking for all indigenous people. How long before Native Americans no longer have a claim to their land? How long before Maori no longer have a claim? It’s not really a place we want to go.

As for colonial, the definition of a colony is “a country or area under the full or partial political control of another country, typically a distant one, and occupied by settlers from that country.” So which country controls Israel? I think we’ve seen over the last year that it’s not the US given the way Bibi has repeatedly blown off Biden, so who is it? Which country is sending settlers to control the area? Again, it’s not the US. While some American Jews make Aliyah every year, the vast majority of Jews in Israel are either from Europe or the Middle East. To be a colony, you have to be a colony of some other power. What is the other power here?

So we can see that Jews are neither settlers nor colonizers. But you know who did colonize the area? Arabs. Arabs are indigenous to the Arabian peninsula, not Israel. And in the 7th century, Arabs came from the Arabian peninsula into Israel (and other places), conquered the locals and did their best to eradicate their cultures, forced conversions to the conquering religion, and settled in the new lands while being under the political control of the far away Caliphate. Sounds like settler colonialism to me. So if we must understand someone in the area as colonial (and I still don’t think it’s the best way to look at things, but if you do) then it’s the people that Palestinians are descended from.

Having said all that, just because colonialism has impacted you, it doesn’t mean you have a complex claim to Judaism. Here are ways you can have a complex claim to Judaism: 1) your father is Jewish and your mother is not, 2) you have Jewish ancestors who were forced to convert and you are now trying to reconnect with the religion that was taken from them. I don’t know your history, so it’s possible that one of those is true. But if you have no Jewish ancestry, then your claim is not complex, it’s non-existent, and if you do have Jewish ancestry but your ancestors willingly left the tribe, then you don’t really have much of a claim either. That doesn’t mean you can’t convert, but given that you seem to think you have claims on other aspects of Judaism as a non-Jew, my gut reaction is to be very doubtful toward your claim on Judaism in general.

If you can’t find a rabbi to support your conversion because you’re gay, you’re looking in the wrong places. The senior rabbi at my synagogue is gay, and we have several queer families as part of the congregation. There are literal signs on the door to the main office that say Trans and Queer Jews welcome here. This doesn’t mean that all congregations are welcoming, but lots are.

The three asks thing is a metaphor that some rabbis take literally. Converting to Judaism is a big decision. The three asks are to make sure that you’ve really thought about it and are really sure – that you’re taking it seriously and thought through all the consequences. If that feels like trolling to you, then maybe Judaism isn’t a good fit. Honestly, from my interactions with you this week, I would bet that the rabbis you’ve met with haven’t said no because you’re gay, they’ve said no because you don’t seem super interested in taking on Jewishness, you just want to take from it instead.

I don’t know what happened with your circumcision. If it went wrong and it was done by a mohel then you can feel angry toward the Jewish people I guess, but I would want to know why your parents had a bris for you if they weren’t planning on raising you Jewish. If you were just circumcised as a medical procedure, as many American babies are, then you may have trauma related to it, but you don’t need to be taking it out on the Jewish people, which is exactly what that poll was doing.

Don’t write down those four letters. Don’t try to pronounce them either. We have asked, repeatedly that people not do that, and once again, the fact that you are is super disrespectful to Jewish people. Write G-d, or God if you must, or even Hashem (I don't think goyim should, but it's better than what you did), but not those four letters. It’s not yucking your yum. You are allowed to enjoy what you want. But what you are doing here is the equivalent of coming into my house and saying that because my dinner looks delicious you can just reach onto my plate with your bare hand, scoop up some of what I’m eating, take a bite and throw the rest back. It’s disrespectful and offensive. I am not objecting to your joy, I’m objecting to your lack of respect to my culture.

Being Jewish is about more than just being circumcised and having the “right” mother. There is a culture here that you need to understand. If you are raised in it, then you get to join the club that way. If you’re not, then you can put in the work to learn it and learn to be respectful of it and join the club that way. So far, you haven’t been able to find a rabbi that thinks you’re willing to do that work, and from what I’ve seen, I’m willing to agree.

[rhiannonsknife]

okay so we’ve all heard about mean jackie, the one who js uses r and wtv but what about a jackie who’s kinda obsessed with r but isn’t afraid to show it? maybe shes like all over r at school and especially at parties or after soccer practice/matches.

btw i js wanted to say i absolutely ADORE ur writing and its genuinely refreshing!!

── .✦ DATING JACKIE TAYLOR

— summary: dating jackie taylor hcs.

— warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff. established relationship. gn!reader. one brief mention of jackie’s death (my bad…). did not beta read.

— a/n: i hope this is enough fluff to make up for the insane amount of jackie angst on this blog…

jackie who loves physical touch and who’s lowkey so clingy with you.

she isn’t shy about physical affection. at all. whether it’s holding your hand in the hallways (partly to show you off, partly because she just wants to feel your presence) resting her head on your shoulder during lunch, or draping herself across you at parties, she always needs to be in contact somehow. jackie doesn’t care who’s watching. in fact, she wants people to watch, dwelling in the attention it brings: the little whispers and lingering glances from classmates as she casually tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear or leans in close to whisper something only you can hear. it’s not just about the spectacle; it’s jackie’s way of marking her territory, showing everyone that you’re hers.

jackie who loves when you stay after school to watch her practice or show up to her games.

after every match or practice, she’s practically glued to you. she’ll jog over, still sweaty and out of breath, and throw an arm around you. and if you’re wearing her jacket or an old jersey while cheering her on? fuck it: she’ll kiss you right there, in front of everyone. she’s a sucker for the post-match attention, especially after the yellowjackets have won (even more so when jackie is the one to score the winning goal): when it’s just the two of you and you invite her out for dinner to celebrate the victory <3 you usually stay longer to watch her practice, too. jackie insists on sharing her post-practice snacks with you afterwards, as a treat for waiting on the bleachers. even if you have your own food, she’ll claim: “mine taste better though,” only to pop a piece of granola into your mouth with a smug grin.

jackie who tries to act nonchalant about you…

…but fails miserably. she isn’t exactly mean, (okay maybe a bit) but if someone tries to get too close to you, her possessiveness does come out, no matter what. she’ll slip her arm around your waist, pull you closer, and flash her sweetest (but most fake) smile. “oh, hi! didn’t realize we were having a little gathering here” she’ll manage, squeezing you just a little tighter. at this point, everyone at school knows jackie is into you. she’ll stop mid-conversation to greet you, abandon her friends to sit with you, or even bail on a party if you’re not going. it’s clear to anyone paying attention that you’re her favorite person.

speaking of which: jackie always seems to know where you are in public places.

you honestly have no idea how she does it, but jackie finds you either way. she’s a literal human magnet, always attracting you or the other way around. whether it’s in the halls, at parties or soccer games, jackie will find you in the largest crowds. she doesn’t mean to be overbearing, it’s just that being near you feels right to her. you’ll instantly know it’s her, when a pair of arms wraps around you from behind and someone’s peppering your neck in kisses. “there you are” she’ll whisper gently.

jackie, who loves to make you blush!! <3

she’ll casually brush her fingers along your arm while whispering something flirty in your ear, or she’ll lean in just a little too close when you’re talking. (not that she could ever be too close to you) she lives for your reactions and they way she can watch your cheeks flush red. even when she can’t be there to see your reaction, only the idea of knowing you’ll be flustered all over again is enough for her to leave little notes in your locker that you’ll find by the time she’s already in a different class.

jackie, who keeps reminders of you everywhere!!

she keeps photos of the two of you in her planner or pressed into her notebooks, and sometimes you catch her smiling at them when she thinks no one’s looking. she might even replace her beloved heart charm necklace with a locket you’ve given her, keeping a picture of the two of you with her wherever she goes (okay okay this is too angsty to unpack but: jackie who takes this locket with her on the flight to the nationals…jackie, whose only reminder of you in the wilderness is the little, square shaped photograph of you…jackie who dies with her fist clutched around it. ANYWAY.) but ALSO: jackie whose locker is basically yours too. half of it is filled with your stuff: your jacket, a book you mentioned liking, even snacks you said you enjoyed. she’ll tell anyone who asks that it’s because “they always forget their things, so i’m just being helpful”

jackie, who gives you the cheesiest nicknames known to mankind.

and she’s only half joking too. she mostly does it to get a rise out of you and hear your laughter when she curls up against you and buries her face in the crook of your neck as she comes up with something hilarious like “babycakes”. your groan will only spur her on and draw a giggle from her lips as she pokes your sides playfully.

jackie, who will spoil you rotten.

you mention something briefly that you’d like to have? jackie will buy it for you. you’re out for lunch? she’s paying. you mention that you don’t have any nice clothes to wear? she’s taking you on a shopping spree with her dad’s credit card. especially for special occasions like christmas or your birthday, jackie is all over the place, ensuring to get you at least one big present that’s better than whatever your other friends and family have gotten you. she also insists on taking you to the nicest restaurants in town. jackie orders for you with 0 hesitation, knowing all your favorites, and never lets you pay. she’s doing it with the best intentions, though: it’s never about showing off or flaunting her/her parents’ wealth, it’s all about showing you how much she cares!!

jackie, who calls you in the middle of the night.

on the rare occasions when you’re not sleeping at the other’s house, she sometimes calls just to hear/fall asleep to the sound of your voice. you don’t even have to talk about anything important (though you will, most of the time). for jackie, it’s enough to recap her day, ask about yours, or just hear your voice. if you sound tired, she’ll tease you for staying up for her, though deep down, she appreciates it more than you know.

jackie who asks you to go to your prom before graduation together.

showing you off in the halls is definitely not enough: she is determined to take you to prom too, especially because it’s your last one before graduating. jackie would go all out for her promposal, i just KNOW IT: gathering your favorite flowers and leaving a heartfelt note in your locker. when you find her waiting nearby, she’s grinning ear to ear. she’d be so serious about it too, no matter how you feel about the formalities etc.! she insists on taking you dress (or suit!) shopping and makes sure you get the outfit you feel perfect in, even if it means trying on a dozen options. she beams at you every time!! <3 guys i’m having a moment here but also: jackie who gets you matching accessories for prom night!! jackie who instantly drags you onto the dance floor the second a slow song plays!! jackie who’s holding you close the whole time, whispering how much she’s going to miss moments like this after graduation!!

rhiannon stealing your clothes this, rhiannon stealing your clothes that. guys. jackie stealing your clothes!!

she insists on “borrowing” your hoodie or jacket all the time. but here’s the thing: she wears it in public constantly, not just around the house. she loves showing off that she’s got a piece of you with her wherever she goes. when you finally ask for it back, she grins and says, “you can have it… after you give me something else to steal” sometimes she’ll show up in clothes you don’t even remember giving her, grinning knowingly.

jackie, whose plans always include you.

whenever she starts making plans for the future, it is as if you’re an inseparable unit. it’s like she can’t even picture a life where you’re not right by her side. she’s got it all planned out, and it’s not like you’re complaining. the two of you were supposed to go to the same college anyway, but it still warms your heart to hear that she’s imagining a future with you and that you’re not limited to your highschool years.

jackie who’s so so proud of you no matter what.

she gets ridiculously proud of even the smallest things you do. did you answer a question in class or get a good grade? she’ll lean over and whisper, “you’re a genius.” scored a point during fucking gym class? she’s clapping loudly from the sidelines. “that’s my partner!” she’ll say to anyone within earshot. she’s your own personal cheerleader!! regardless of all of these things, she sometimes overthinks the whole situation. given the fact that she never cared for someone the way she does for you and that this is her first time in a truly loving relationship, she’s probably worried about doing things the ‘right way’. she’ll hesitate before asking if you’re happy with her, or quietly admit she worries about losing you. you’re obviously there to reassure her time and time again!!

jackie, who’s a hopeless romantic in denial!!!!

when jackie loves, she loves hard. before you, she hasn’t even known this side of herself, so she’s surprised to find out how much of a romantic she turns out to be. everyone notices how much softer and happier she is when she’s with you. the usual sharpness in her voice fades, and she’s all smiles and easy laughter. jackie is unapologetically obsessed, down bad, if you will!! she’ll always come up with something sweet to do with you, whether it’s dragging you outside to watch the stars at a party, hand-feed you popcorn during movie nights, or even burn a cd of your songs to blast in the car.



[jetii]

By Your Name

Part One

Pairing: Wrecker x fem!Reader / Wrecker x Jedi!Reader

Words: 7,998/19,226

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fluff, good-natured brotherly teasing, smut, this is mostly just smut actually, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), size kink, aftercare, dirty talk, Wrecker being a sweetheart that is a given

Summary: You and Wrecker are still figuring out exactly what your relationship means, and a month apart hasn't helped. Now that you're reunited again, nothing is going to stand in the way of the two of you getting what you want.

A/N: Greetings from horny jail! I didn't proofread this one that much so if you see any mistakes no you didn't.

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Keeping your relationship with Wrecker a secret is easier said than done. There's no denying the spark between the two of you, and it only seemed to grow stronger in the days following your confession. To you, Wrecker is the sun, and you're a planet caught in his orbit, drawn in by his warmth and light. 

It's become increasingly difficult to keep things professional when all you want to do is pull him into a kiss, or spend every waking moment touching him in some way. Every time his fingers brush yours, or his hand finds the small of your back, the desire to kiss him, to hold him, to simply be with him is nearly overwhelming. And it's a feeling that only grows stronger the longer you're away from him.

Saying goodbye to Wrecker at the end of your tour with the Batch had been almost unbearable, and the distance has been agonizing. The weeks apart had dragged on, and the only solace you had was in the late-night calls and the occasional text. The longing had been a constant companion, and it had left you irritable and on edge.

But now, finally, the two of you will be reunited, and the excitement building in your chest is impossible to ignore. Even though it's been weeks since the two of you were last together, it feels like a lifetime, and you can't wait to be near him again. To feel his arms around you, his hands on your skin, his lips on yours.

The two of you had barely had enough time to figure out what exactly you are to each other before you left, and with the others around, there was little else you could do beyond a few stolen moments. But now, after weeks of anticipation and separation, you're finally getting the chance to explore things further.

And you know Wrecker is intent on making the most of the opportunity.

It was no secret that the man is incredibly tactile, and the fact that he'd been unable to touch you the way he wanted to, the way you both needed him to, had clearly taken a toll. His texts had grown progressively bolder, and the calls had lasted well into the night, and you'd spent hours on the comm with him, trying to keep your voice down while he told you everything he planned on doing to you once you were alone.

And now, you're on the same planet, finally, and the thought is enough to drive you crazy. You're already waiting in the hangar bay when the Marauder arrives, and the sight of it, the sight of him, sends a thrill of anticipation through you. The moment the ship touches down, the ramp lowers, and Wrecker comes barreling down, his arms outstretched.

"Hey, General!" he shouts. "Get ready, 'cause I'm gonna—"

You don't wait for him to finish. Instead, you throw yourself into his arms, and he catches you with ease, his arms wrapping around you, lifting you up off the ground. He spins you around, the two of you laughing and grinning like fools, and you're so happy you can barely breathe.

"Miss me?" you ask, breathless, your arms around his neck.

"Kriff, yeah," he says. "Wasn't the same without you."

"It wasn't the same for me, either," you murmur. "I didn't realize how much I would miss having you around."

"Me, neither," he replies.

He sets you down, but his arms stay locked around your waist, holding you close. The urge to kiss him is a physical ache, and the closeness is almost unbearable. But you can't, not here, not now, and so you settle for the feel of his arms around you, his hands stroking your back.

"I'm glad to see you," he says, his voice soft.

"I missed you, too," you reply, smiling up at him.

"I can't wait to show you how much I missed you," he whispers. The look in his eyes, the heat in his voice, sends a rush of desire through you, and you shiver. "Been thinkin' about it every day."

"Have you?"

"Yeah," he breathes. "And I've got a few ideas."

"Oh?" you ask, unable to keep the smile off your face. He's practically radiating energy, the excitement rolling off him in waves, and it's infectious.

Before he can respond, the sound of someone clearing their throat snaps you back to reality. The two of you turn, and you spot the others standing a short distance away at the end of the ramp. Crosshair and Tech look mildly amused, while Hunter looks vaguely uncomfortable, and Echo's expression is one of long-suffering annoyance.

"Uh, Wrecker," Hunter says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "You mind putting her down so we can go?"

"What?" Wrecker asks. "Oh. Yeah, yeah. Sorry."

He lets go of you, his hands trailing over your waist as he steps back. You brush your hands across your tunic, trying to quell the butterflies in your stomach, and Wrecker grins down at you.

"Sorry," you say, unable to keep the smile off your face. "It's been a while."

"Just save it for the ship,” Crosshair drawls as he passes by.

"Don’t worry, we will," Wrecker fires back, throwing an entirely unnecessary wink in his direction. Crosshair rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth quirks up. Tech follows, shaking his head with a small smile.

"I am glad that the two of you have reconciled your differences," he says, his eyes flicking to yours. "But please keep such displays of affection to a minimum in our presence.”

"Sorry, Tech.”

"We'll behave," Wrecker adds, but his tone is teasing.

"I doubt that," Echo mutters, but his eyes are crinkled at the corners. You flush, but can't help but return the smile. He's not wrong, after all.

"We'll try," you amend, and the others chuckle as they follow Crosshair out of the hangar toward the barracks. You and Wrecker walk a short distance behind them, keeping pace, and the silence is comfortable, the two of you walking shoulder to shoulder. He leans over and nudges your arm, and you glance up at him, catching the grin on his face.

You smile back, unable to hide your excitement, and the look in his eyes is almost enough to make your knees give out. You have no idea how you're going to get through the rest of the day, knowing that he's within arm's reach. Knowing that tonight, when the others have gone to sleep, the two of you will have the ship to yourselves. And the thoughts running through your mind are enough to have you squirming in place, eager for the day to end.

"Welcome back, by the way," you say, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach.

"Glad to be back," Wrecker says. "And ready to start celebrating."

"Oh, is that what we're doing?" you tease.

"Mhm," he replies, his voice low and rough. "Gonna celebrate the kriff outta you."

You bite back a gasp, and your face heats up. You'd known Wrecker was forward, but the way he talks about wanting you, the way he openly stares at you, is still startling. No one has ever been so open with their feelings before, and while you're still getting used to the idea, it's nice. Reassuring. It's a reminder that this is real, that he wants you, and it's all you can do not to melt on the spot.

"Sounds like a good plan," you reply, your voice hoarse, and you resist the urge to fan yourself.

"Knew you'd see it my way," he says, and the look he gives you is enough to send a jolt of heat straight to your core.

The two of you continue on in comfortable silence, and you can't help but glance at him, taking in the sight of Wrecker finally back by your side. You can't deny that the past few weeks have been...frustrating. Being unable to be near him, or touch him, or even speak openly about how you feel has been agonizing. And the constant teasing and flirting via holo hasn't helped.

There are so many things you've wanted to say, to do, but haven't had the chance. Now, with the privacy and space, the temptation is nearly overwhelming. And the look on Wrecker's face tells you that he's thinking the same thing. You just need to get through the next couple hours without drawing too much attention, and then...

As expected, the celebration is a simple affair, a meal and a round or two of drinks at 79s. You've gotten used to the squad's traditions over the past year, and it's a relief to know that the evening won't drag on for hours. As it is, your patience is wearing thin, and you can tell that Wrecker feels the same.

"So," Hunter starts, his eyes fixed on the two of you. "Did you have a chance to talk about things while we were away?"

"Yeah, a bit," Wrecker says, shifting in his seat. His leg brushes against yours, and the contact sends a jolt of electricity up your spine. "Still workin' things out."

"I see," Hunter says. He takes a sip of his drink, his gaze flicking between the two of you, and he raises an eyebrow. "Just try not to make it too obvious, okay?"

"I'm not making any promises," Wrecker smirks, and the words are directed at his brother, but the way his eyes burn into you is unmistakable. You bite your lip, the heat on your cheeks nearly unbearable. The fact that he's so brazen, so shameless, is doing nothing to help your growing desire, and it's all you can do to keep a straight face.

"Wrecker, please," Echo groans, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Sorry, sorry," Wrecker chuckles, and his hand finds your thigh beneath the table, his fingers squeezing gently. You resist the urge to jump, trying to ignore the warmth of his palm seeping through the fabric of your pants. You can tell he's teasing, testing the boundaries, and the look on his face is almost smug. "I'll behave."

"No, you won't," Tech says, his eyes locked on his datapad. "But I suppose we will simply have to accept that this is your current reality."

"Guess so," Wrecker says, and the smile he gives you is blinding.

The rest of the meal is relatively uneventful, and the conversation is light, mostly centered around the mission, and what's to come. The Republic is preparing for another offensive, and you and the Batch have been assigned to gather intel on a possible Separatist stronghold in the Outer Rim. It's not an ideal mission, but it's better than sitting around doing nothing. And with Wrecker by your side, it will certainly be more bearable.

You listen as the others share stories, laughing and talking like they always do. Wrecker's hand stays on your thigh, his fingers tracing absentminded circles on your leg, and it's enough to keep you distracted, the anticipation growing with every passing minute. By the time the meal is finished, you're all but squirming in your seat, and you're desperate to get out of the crowded room.

"What about you?" Crosshair asks, and the sound of his voice pulls you back to the present. "Did you sit around doing nothing this whole time?"

"No," you reply. "I was training, mostly."

"Boring," Crosshair sneers, but his eyes are soft, and the look he gives you is teasing.

"I did manage to get a new scar, if that counts," you say, pointing to the healing cut above your eyebrow. "Had a run-in with a particularly unpleasant bounty hunter. She was faster than she looked."

"Ooh, lemme see," Wrecker says, and his hand finds your chin, tilting your face up. The gesture is casual, but the way his fingers stroke your cheek is not, and you shiver at the touch. He turns your face, his thumb brushing the healing skin, and the heat of his palm sears into your cheek. "Pretty nasty. You gonna live?"

"I think so," you manage, and his eyes sparkle with amusement.

"Good," he says. "Don't want anything happenin' to that pretty face of yours."

Someone makes a noise of protest, but you're too busy trying not to melt under Wrecker's gaze to notice who it was. His eyes flick over your features, his expression intense, and his fingers trail down the line of your jaw, coming to rest on your shoulder.

"Alright," Hunter cuts in. He slaps his hands on the table and stands, giving the two of you a pointed look. "Let's call it a night."

"But—"

"No buts," he says. "I can't watch this any longer."

Wrecker grumbles something under his breath, but he pulls his hand away, and the absence is nearly enough to make you whine.

"Fine," he huffs, rising from his seat. "See you all tomorrow."

You stand as well, your legs shaking. You're not sure how you're going to make it back to the ship, and the smirk on Wrecker's face tells you that he knows exactly what he's doing.

"Later," Crosshair says, his tone bored.

"Have a good night," Echo calls after you, his voice tight with discomfort. You glance back at him and offer an apologetic shrug, but he just waves you off. Tech is still buried in his datapad, oblivious, and Hunter gives you a long-suffering sigh as the two of you leave.

The walk back to the ship is agony. The sun has long since set, and the streets are dark, but the lights of the city are bright enough that it's not difficult to navigate. Still, the journey feels like an eternity, and every step sends a thrill of anticipation through your veins. You can feel Wrecker's presence behind you, his hand occasionally brushing against your back, his body close enough to touch.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" you ask as the two of you round the corner, putting some distance between yourselves and the others.

"Enjoying what?" he asks innocently.

"Teasing me," you reply, elbowing him in the side.

"Maybe a little," he grins, and the heat in his gaze makes you blush. "You know, it's hard not to be when you react like that."

"React like what?

"Like this," he murmurs, his hand sliding down your spine, coming to rest on the curve of your ass. His palm is hot and heavy, and the pressure is enough to make you gasp.

"I can't help it," you mutter, trying to ignore the desire that's pooling in your core.

"I know," he says, and his fingers squeeze, pulling you into his side. "And it's kriffing adorable."

"Shut up," you say, pushing against him. He laughs, the sound low and husky, and the way his eyes gleam in the dim light is more than a little distracting.

"Make me," he says, and his voice is teasing, but there's a note of challenge in it, and the implication sends a shiver down your spine. 

You turn to face him, and before you can second guess yourself, you reach out, taking hold of his armor and pulling him towards you.

Wrecker's lips meet yours in a searing kiss, and the force of it knocks the wind out of you. He backs you up against the wall, caging you in with his body, and his hands find your hips, lifting you up onto the tips of your toes. You moan against his mouth, and his tongue slips past your lips, his fingers digging into your flesh. The kiss is bruising, full of heat and want, and the way he moves against you, his body hard and solid, leaves you gasping for air.

He breaks the kiss, and his teeth nip at your lower lip, his hands wandering down, squeezing the swell of your ass. His breath is hot on your skin, his chest heaving, and the desire in his eyes is all-consuming.

"That shut you up," you whisper as his lips move down the column of your throat.

"Mhm," he mumbles. His tongue drags over the delicate skin, and you tilt your head back, giving him better access. "Keep doin' that, and I'll be quiet the rest of the night."

You laugh, the sound turning into a groan as his teeth sink into your flesh, biting down. His hands slide around to your back, pulling you flush against him, and his knee slips between your legs. The pressure against your core is enough to make you moan, and he chuckles against your skin.

"That's a dangerous game you're playing," you whisper, trying to catch your breath.

"Not the only one," he murmurs, his eyes finding yours. The hunger in his gaze makes your blood sing, and you swallow, trying to steady your pulse.

"True," you say, reaching up to cup his cheek. "But I'm not sure we should keep playing it. At least not until we get back to the ship."

He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your lips, his tongue teasing the seam of your mouth. You open for him, and his hand comes up to cup the back of your head, holding you steady.

"Good point," he whispers as he pulls away, his nose brushing against yours.

"Come on," you say, and you nudge him backwards. Wrecker goes willingly, stumbling back a step, his eyes never leaving yours. "Let's go."

The two of you pick up the pace, and it's not long before you're making your way through the hangar bay towards the Marauder. There are a few people milling about the hangar, and a group of technicians working on a nearby ship, but none of them pay the two of you any attention as you approach the ramp.

The moment the door closes behind you, Wrecker pounces, pinning you against the wall, his mouth finding yours in a hungry kiss. You pull him closer, and he wraps his arms around you, lifting you up with ease. Your legs lock around his waist, and his hands slide down to grip the underside of your thighs, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin.

You break the kiss, your lungs screaming, and he moves down, pressing hot, wet kisses to the line of your throat. His mouth is warm and slick, his tongue leaving a burning trail along your collarbone. His hands find the hem of your shirt, and he pushes the fabric up, exposing your stomach.

"You really gonna keep quiet the rest of the night?" you ask, your voice hoarse.

"Do you want me to?" he murmurs, his nose brushing against the skin beneath your ear.

"Not particularly," you reply.

"Didn't think so," he says, and his teeth scrape against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "You wanna know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think you like it," he growls. His hands slip beneath your shirt, his palms sliding up the curve of your waist. "I think you like it when I tell you how pretty you are, or how much I want you."

"Maybe," you whisper.

"It's okay," he murmurs, his fingers dancing across your skin. "I like it, too."

You moan, the sound soft and needy, and he laughs, the vibrations tickling the sensitive spot below your ear. Wrecker's mouth finds yours again, his tongue plunging past your lips. He tastes like the liquor the two of you were drinking earlier, and the heady mixture is enough to make your head spin.

He breaks the kiss, and the next thing you know, he's carrying you down the hall, his pace hurried. Within a few steps, the two of you are falling onto the bunk, a tangle of limbs.

You land on top of him, straddling his waist, and Wrecker groans, his hands coming to rest on your hips. You grind down against him, the movement sending a rush of heat through your body. The contact is dizzying, and you do it again, relishing the way his eyes flutter closed.

"Kriff, cyare," he breathes.

"I thought I was cyar'ika," you murmur.

"Both. Either. Doesn't matter," he says, his hands slipping beneath the hem of your shirt.

"I think it matters" you say, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips.

"You really wanna talk about Mando'a right now?" he asks, and the amusement in his voice makes you laugh. You pull back enough to let him pull the shirt up and over your head, leaving you bare save for your breast band.

"I guess not. I'd rather do something else," you whisper, and Wrecker's eyes darken, his pupils dilating. His gaze trails over your chest, and his hands follow suit, tracing the line of your ribs.

"Me too," he murmurs. His fingers ghost across the band of fabric covering your breasts, teasing the edges. You give a slight nod, and he hooks a finger underneath the material, pulling it up and over your head.

Your breasts bounce free, and his eyes lock on them, his gaze burning. His hands slide up your sides, cupping the swell of flesh, his palms hot and rough.

"Mesh'la," he murmurs. He leans forward, his lips finding the slope of your shoulder. "So kriffing beautiful."

The praise makes you blush, and he kisses his way down the length of your chest, his lips trailing over the curve of your breast. You tilt your head back, closing your eyes as he licks a circle around your nipple, his tongue leaving a hot, wet trail.

"Wrecker," you whimper, and the sound seems to spur him on. His mouth finds your breast, his lips closing around the tight bud, his tongue swirling. You moan, the feeling electric, and he hums in response, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh.

He sucks and bites at the stiff peak, his fingers rolling the other, and the twin sensations send a rush of heat through your body. It's almost too much, and you can't help but squirm, the desire pooling in your core. Wrecker’s armor presses against your thighs, the pressure almost painful, and the need to feel his skin on yours is overwhelming.

"Take it off," you pant, tugging at the shoulder plates.

"Bossy," he chuckles, and the sound sends a jolt of excitement through you.

"I think you like it," you say, throwing his own words back at him, and the wicked grin he gives you is all the answer you need.

"You're right," he replies. He reaches behind him, unclipping the pieces of his armor and setting them aside. The process is painstakingly slow, and you can't help but pout. But when you try to move his hands out of the way, he lifts you off his lap and sets you down on the mattress.

"Hey!"

"I'm going," he says, a grin on his face. "Don't worry."

Wrecker stands, and the sight of him towering above you, his broad frame blocking out the light, is enough to make you tremble. He strips off the pieces of armor with practiced efficiency, revealing the black undersuit beneath. You stare at him, your eyes roaming over the thickly corded muscles of his arms and chest, the taut fabric stretched across his abdomen.

"See somethin' you like?" he teases, and the sound of his voice draws you back to reality.

"Yes," you say, clearing your throat.

"Yeah?"

"Yes," you repeat with a smile.

"Good," he says. He kneels before you, his fingers finding the hem of your pants. He undoes the button, and you lift your hips, letting him slide the fabric down.

He takes a moment to admire you, his eyes trailing over the curves of your body. He hums in approval, his hand sliding up your leg, his fingers stroking the inside of your thigh.

"Beautiful," he murmurs.

You watch as his hand slips lower, and his thumb finds the edge of your underwear, the touch light and teasing. The sensation is enough to make you gasp, and he does it again, tracing a line along the seam. Your legs part instinctively, and his hand cups the apex of your thighs, his palm pressing against the damp fabric.

"You want more?" he asks, and the huskiness of his voice is enough to make you ache.

"Yes," you breathe.

He pulls the underwear off, and you lie back, spreading your legs, giving him a clear view of the most intimate parts of you. He groans at the sight, his eyes raking over the soft flesh, and his hands grip your knees, pushing them further apart. You feel exposed, but the look on his face is nothing short of reverent, and the desire in his eyes is enough to take your breath away.

"Mesh'la," he whispers, and then his head is between your legs, his tongue finding the sensitive flesh. The contact is electric, and you moan, the sound muffled by your fist. Wrecker chuckles, his eyes locking on yours as his mouth continues its work. His lips and tongue are soft and warm, and his fingers grip your hips, pulling you closer.

"Stars, Wrecker," you whimper, and he hums in response, the vibrations sending a jolt through your body. You gasp, and he smiles, his mouth never leaving the apex of your thighs. His tongue traces circles around the stiff bud, his fingers stroking the delicate skin.

You squirm under his ministrations, the sensation nearly overwhelming, and he holds you steady, his hands like steel. You grip the sheets, trying to ground yourself, but it's a futile effort. Wrecker is relentless, his mouth devouring every inch of flesh, his tongue probing, his teeth scraping, and the heat pooling in your belly threatens to consume you.

"Wrecker, I can't—"

He stops, pulling away with a wet smack. His face is glistening, his eyes burning, and the sight of him is enough to steal the words from your lips.

"Tell me," he growls, his hands tightening on your thighs.

"I can't—"

"Can't what, cyar’ika?" he murmurs, leaning in, his breath warm on the skin of your neck.

"Can't wait," you manage. "Please."

He laughs, his fingers stroking the sensitive flesh of your thighs. He presses a kiss to the side of your neck, and his hand slips between your legs, his fingers finding the apex of your folds. You groan, the contact almost too much to bear, and his fingers tease the edge, sliding along the slick skin.

"I'm gonna take my time with you," he says, his voice rough. "Gonna learn every inch of your body, every place that makes you feel good. And I'm gonna do it until you're a kriffing mess."

The words send a rush of heat through your body, and you can't help but arch into his touch, your hips rising off the bed. He grins, his fingers parting the slick folds, and you bite back a moan as he slides the digits along the length of the slit.

"So wet," he says, and the pride in his voice is obvious. "Mesh'la."

He leans down, his tongue darting out, tracing the same path his fingers had just followed. Wrecker takes his time, his mouth exploring every inch of the exposed flesh. By the time his tongue reaches the sensitive bud, you're trembling, the pleasure almost unbearable. His fingers press against your entrance, and you nod, giving him the go-ahead.

He slips a finger inside, and you clench around him, the feeling almost foreign. It’s been so long since you've done anything like this, and the stretch is unfamiliar, the sensation a strange combination of pleasure and discomfort. He moves slowly, his lips and tongue distracting you from the intrusion, and the discomfort fades, the pressure turning into a delicious fullness.

"You okay?" he asks, looking up at you, his lips still pressed against the apex of your thighs.

"Mhm," you reply, and you roll your hips, letting him know you're ready for more. He grins, and he presses another finger in, his tongue swirling around the stiff bud. The stretch is almost too much, and you gasp, the pleasure making your head spin.

Wrecker moves slowly, his fingers curling, probing, searching for that spot inside you. When he finds it, he rubs the tips against it, and the jolt of pleasure is enough to take your breath away.

"Fuck," you gasp.

"Yeah?" he asks, his eyes glinting with mischief.

"Yes," you whimper.

"More?"

"Yes, please," you beg. "Please."

He complies, his fingers pressing deeper, and you groan, the pleasure almost too much to bear. Your thighs shake, and he hooks his free arm around one of them, pulling you closer, his lips closing around the bud.

It doesn't take long before the heat coiling in your belly becomes too much to bear, and you can't hold back the moans spilling from your lips. Wrecker keeps up the pace, his fingers pumping, his mouth devouring, and it's only a few moments before the tension snaps.

You cry out, the sound swallowed by the bulkhead, and your thighs clamp around his head, trapping him. The air seems to ripple around you, the Force flowing through you, and the room fades, replaced by blinding white light. You're weightless, drifting in the current, the pleasure rippling through your body.

When you finally come down, the room has returned to normal, and the pressure of Wrecker's mouth is nearly too much. You push him away, and he looks up at you, a smirk on his face. His lips are wet and swollen, and his eyes are bright with lust.

"That was somethin' else," he murmurs, his voice hoarse.

"What did I do?" you ask, your voice shaking.

"Not sure," he replies. He presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, his tongue darting out, licking away the remnants of your climax. "But I liked it."

"Oh," you manage.

"You good?"

"Yeah," you breathe. "Really good. Stars, Wrecker, that was...”

"Just the beginning," he says, his hands finding your waist and flipping you onto your stomach. He pulls you up onto your knees, and the next thing you know, his tongue is on your folds again, the sensation making your legs tremble.

"Wrecker, what—"

"Told you I'd take my time," he murmurs, and his fingers slip inside you again, the pace agonizing. You groan, burying your face in the pillow, trying to muffle the sounds spilling from your lips. His hand slides up your spine, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling your head back. "I wanna hear you."

"I can't," you whimper.

"I'll stop if you don't," he threatens. "Wanna hear how good I'm makin' you feel."

"Fine," you groan. "Don't stop. Please."

"Good girl," he says, and the words send a rush of heat straight to your core. You feel yourself clamp down around his fingers, and his other hand grips the curve of your ass, squeezing hard. "Fuck, that's hot."

You moan, the sound loud and needy, and he rewards you by sliding another finger inside. The stretch is almost painful, but the pleasure is worth it, and the thought of him inside you, filling you, sends a thrill of excitement through your body. You can't help but push back against him, grinding your hips against his face.

"Look at you," he says, and the awe in his voice is enough to bring tears to your eyes. "Fuck, you're perfect. So fuckin' perfect."

His mouth returns to its work, his tongue licking and sucking and teasing. Your legs tremble, and his arm wraps around your waist, holding you up as his fingers plunge deeper. The pleasure is overwhelming, and the room seems to fade around you, the only thing remaining the feeling of his mouth on your sex.

You can't think, can't breathe, can't do anything except take whatever he gives you. And the thought, the knowledge that you're completely at his mercy, is intoxicating. You surrender to the feeling, allowing yourself to let go, and the release is almost instantaneous.

You cry out, the sound torn from your throat, and the force of it threatens to knock you over. But Wrecker is there, his arms steadying you, his mouth coaxing every last ounce of pleasure from you. When the waves of bliss finally subside, you slump forward, the mattress soft against your cheek.

"Holy shit," you mutter, unable to form a coherent thought.

"Yeah," Wrecker says, his hand stroking the length of your spine. He leans over you, his mouth finding the soft skin behind your ear. His tongue darts out, licking the shell, and his breath is hot on your neck. "Still with me?"

"Barely," you whisper, and the sound of his laugh sends a shiver through you. You roll over slowly to find his face inches from yours, his smile wide and wicked. You reach up, cupping his cheek, and the softness in his eyes is enough to melt your heart.

"Hi," he murmurs.

"Hey."

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. The tenderness is unexpected, and the taste of yourself on his mouth is more arousing than it has any right to be.

"I'm glad we're finally alone," he whispers, his nose brushing against yours. "Was about to explode."

"Mm," you reply. "Well, let's fix that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you say, pushing him back. He sits up, and you move with him, swinging your leg over his waist. He watches you with hungry eyes, and the desire in his expression is enough to stoke the embers of your own. You can feel his cock straining against the fabric of his suit, the thickness hard and insistent, and the realization of just how badly he wants you is almost too much to bear.

You lean in, your mouth finding the side of his neck, and he groans, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. You nip and bite at the exposed flesh as your hands slip underneath the hem of his shirt, and you peel the fabric up, revealing his chest. He lifts his arms, and the two of you work together to pull the garment over his head, tossing it aside.

You run your hands over his broad chest, your fingers tracing the line of his muscles, his scars, his tattoos. The expanse of his skin is a map, a landscape, and you want to explore every inch. He sighs, his eyes closing, and the contentment in his expression is beautiful. You kiss him again, and he groans, his hand reaching up to cup the back of your head.

"I could kiss you forever," he murmurs.

"That would be nice," you reply, your lips moving down his throat.

"Mhm," he hums. "But right now, I really, really wanna fuck you."

The words send a shiver of desire through you, and you pull back, giving him a smirk. You slide back, and his hands move to the closure of his suit, undoing the catches with ease. The fabric parts, revealing the thick shaft beneath. The head is dark and swollen, and a drop of precome glistens at the tip.

"Kriff," you breathe. "You're—"

"Big?" he says, grinning.

You swallow, nodding. You've felt him through his clothes, the evidence of his desire more than clear, but the reality is something else entirely. He's larger than any partner you've ever had, and the thought of taking him, of feeling him inside you, is both terrifying and exhilarating.

"That's putting it mildly."

"We can wait," he offers, his hands finding your hips, his fingers stroking the sensitive skin. "Or take things slow. We don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

"I appreciate that," you say. "But I really, really want this."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

He smiles, and his hand slips between your thighs, his fingers finding the slick skin. You gasp at the touch, rising up on your knees to pull his blacks down further. His cock springs free, the length curving up against his belly. He helps you pull the rest of the suit off, leaving the two of you bare before each other.

He sits up, his eyes raking over the planes of your body, his gaze hungry and possessive. He pulls you towards him, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, his mouth finding yours. His hands slide down your spine, cupping the swell of your ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

"You sure about this?" he asks, his lips moving against yours.

"Very," you reply. You reach between the two of you, your fingers wrapping around his length. He groans, his head falling back, and his hips twitch, pushing into your grasp. Your fingers don't quite meet, the thickness impossible to fully encircle, and the size of him is daunting.

"You can change your mind," he says, and the words are choked, strained. "Just say the word."

"I won't," you say. "Trust me."

"Okay," he breathes, and the faith in his voice is enough to take your breath away. He leans back, and you raise yourself up on your knees, positioning him at your entrance. You take a deep breath, and then begin to lower yourself onto him. The head presses against the tight ring of muscle the sensation almost foreign. You press down, and the tip slips inside, the thickness stretching you.

"Shit," he mutters, his fingers gripping your hips. "Fuck, cyar'ika, you're so—"

The words turn into a loud, unrestrained groan as you sink down, taking him inch by inch. It takes time, the fullness overwhelming, but you persevere, the feeling of him inside you more intense than anything you've ever felt. The way his length fills you, stretching and stretching, the slight pain, the ache, the feeling of being whole, it's enough to drive all thoughts from your mind.

By the time Wrecker is nearly fully seated inside you, the both of you are trembling. He's panting, his eyes squeezed shut, his chest rising and falling in rapid breaths. You watch him, the sight of his reaction sending a rush of excitement through your body. It's the first time you've seen him lose control, and the knowledge that it's you, that you're the cause, is exhilarating.

You shift in his lap, grinding down on his cock, and he hisses, his teeth clenched. The pressure against the walls of your cunt is almost too much to bear, and it takes everything you have not to collapse. You lift yourself up slightly, testing the limits, and his grip on your hips tightens.

“Stay still,” he growls, and the command in his voice sends a thrill through you. “Don’t move.”

"Or what?" you ask.

Wrecker opens his eyes, his gaze burning into you. There's a dangerous glint there, and the promise in his expression is almost too much to take. You swallow, unable to look away. He smirks, and his hand comes up, his fingers wrapping around the back of your neck, holding you steady.

"Or I'm gonna have to fuck you into the kriffing mattress," he says, his voice rough. "You think you can handle that?"

"Maybe," you reply, and the confidence in your voice is surprising.

"Really?" he says. He shifts, his hips lifting off the mattress, and the movement pushes him deeper. The stretch is almost too much, but the sensation is exquisite, and the moan that escapes your lips is unabashedly desperate. "Sounds like you can't."

"I'm not convinced," you say, and the words come out more as a whine than a statement. Wrecker laughs, his lips curling into a smug smile. The expression should annoy you, but instead, it only adds to the heat pooling in your core. You like seeing him like this, confident and commanding, and the thought of letting him have his way with you is more than a little arousing.

"You're adorable," he says, and he tilts his head forward, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. You wrap your arms around him, and he pulls you closer, his other hand sliding down to the small of your back. The pressure is intoxicating, and you can't help but squirm, trying to find purchase. But he holds you steady, his mouth devouring yours.

He lifts you up, his hands gripping the curve of your ass, and his cock nearly slips out, the sudden emptiness jarring. But before you can complain, he's lowering you back down, sheathing himself inside you again.

"Oh," you whimper.

"Yeah," he murmurs. "You feel so good."

He lifts you again, and his pace is achingly slow, the movement careful, controlled. He's clearly holding back, and the knowledge that he's doing it for your benefit sends a rush of affection through you. You cup his face in your hands, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Wrecker," you say. "Please."

"You sure?"

"Yes," you hiss, your head tilting back as he slides home. "Please, I want—"

"Tell me what you want," he growls.

"You," you say, and the confession is more difficult than it should be. "All of you. Hard and fast and— Fuck!"

The breath leaves your lungs as he flips the two of you, his weight pinning you against the mattress. He slides a hand beneath your hips, tilting them up, and his lips find the curve of your neck, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin.

"Don't say I didn't warn ya," he growls, and then his hips snap, driving him into you. The movement is quick and powerful, and the impact reverberates through your entire body. The thrust is accompanied by a wave of pleasure, the feeling intense and all-consuming, and it takes everything you have to hold on.

"Holy shit," you mutter, your eyes squeezing shut.

"You good?" he murmurs, his hands finding yours, his fingers intertwining with your own.

"So good," you whimper. You wrap your legs around his waist, trying to anchor yourself, but the motion seems to have the opposite effect. The slight shift in position is all the invitation he needs, and he drives into you again, the force enough to push you up the bed. The pleasure is almost blinding, and the room blurs, the edges of your vision darkening.

"More," you beg, the word torn from your throat.

"Anything," he breathes, and then his mouth finds yours, swallowing the moan that spills from your lips. His hips set a relentless rhythm, his cock pounding into you, the friction delicious. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer, and his mouth never leaves yours, his tongue plunging past your teeth. The taste of him, the smell of him, it's enough to send you reeling, and the world around you fades, replaced by a single, searing point of pleasure.

You lose yourself in the moment, the feeling of his body pressed against yours, the warmth and strength and power of him. He surrounds you, engulfs you, consumes you, and the intimacy of the act, the connection between the two of you, it's unlike anything you've ever felt. The sensation is overwhelming, and you're powerless to do anything except take whatever he gives you. You let go, surrendering yourself completely, and the feeling is almost euphoric.

"You feel so fuckin' good," Wrecker pants, and the words seem to echo, his voice distant. "Can't believe you're—fuck, cyar'ika, you're perfect."

The praise spurs you on, and the next thing you know, Wrecker is kneeling before you, pulling you towards him. His hands grip your waist, his fingers digging into the sensitive flesh, and his cock plunges deeper. You cry out, the sound echoing around the room, and he groans in response, his movements becoming erratic.

"Fuck," he grunts. His hands slide down, cupping the curve of your ass, and he lifts you off the mattress, impaling you on his cock. The angle is intense, and you can feel the tension coiling in your belly, the pressure threatening to burst.

"I'm close," you gasp, and he nods, his face twisted with pleasure. He's lost control, the steady rhythm giving way to desperate, frantic thrusts, and the knowledge that he's close to coming undone is intoxicating.

"Touch yourself," he manages. "Come on, cyar'ika, wanna feel you come on my cock."

You do as he says, reaching down and sliding your fingers through the wetness between your legs. The contact is enough to push you over the edge, and you come hard, the orgasm tearing through you. The room goes dark, the pleasure nearly blinding, and the air seems to vibrate, the Force surging through you. You can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything except let it wash over you.

You feel yourself clamp down around Wrecker's cock, the walls of your cunt spasming, and he gasps, the sound raw and primal. He thrusts once, twice, and then his hips stutter, and he drives himself deep, the force of his climax making the bed shake. You feel his cock pulse inside you, filling you, and the warmth of his seed sends another wave of pleasure rippling through your body.

It seems to go on forever, the two of you riding out the aftershocks. You're trembling, and tears are spilling down your cheeks, but you can't bring yourself to care. You pull him close, your mouth finding his, and the kiss is sloppy, needy, the two of you too far gone to do anything except cling to each other.

When it's over, Wrecker rolls the two of you over, pulling you into his arms. His chest is rising and falling in rapid breaths, and his heart is pounding, the beat so loud you can hear it. You rest your head on his shoulder, your arm draped across his chest, and he pulls you closer, his nose buried in the top of your head.

"Holy shit," he breathes.

"That good, huh?"

"Good doesn't even cover it," he says. "Stars, that was...fuck, cyar'ika, that was somethin' else."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should," he murmurs. "Fuck."

You laugh, the sound muffled by his skin. He chuckles in response, and his hand strokes your back, his fingers tracing circles on your spine. You sigh, the touch soothing, and you close your eyes, letting the tension leave your body. You're exhausted, and the thought of moving is nearly unbearable. You’re more content than you can remember being in a long, long time.

"Don't fall asleep," he says. "Not yet."

"Too late," you murmur, the words slurred.

"Hey," he says, and his tone is gentle, teasing. "At least let me get a towel or something."

"Fine," you grumble.

He laughs, and the bed shifts as he gets up, the loss of his body heat jarring. You shiver, curling into yourself, and the next thing you know, he's pressing a damp cloth between your legs. The contact is enough to wake you up, and the realization of what's happening is both embarrassing and endearing.

"Wrecker," you say, pushing his hand away. "I can do that."

"Sorry," he mutters. "Should've asked."

"It's okay," you say, and the sincerity in your voice seems to reassure him. "I just don't want you doing all the work."

"I don't mind," he says, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "I like takin' care of you."

"And I like taking care of you," you reply. "Which is why I want you to come back to bed."

"Okay, okay," he says, smiling. He tosses the towel aside, and the bed dips as he climbs in next to you, his body pressed flush against yours. The feel of his skin on yours is soothing, and you can't help but melt into his touch. He's solid and warm and real, and the knowledge that he's here, that he wants you, is more comforting than anything else.

"Mesh'la," he whispers.

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

You turn, burying your face in the crook of his neck. His arms wrap around you, his body enveloping yours, and the words come easily.

"I love you, too."

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