#ive been sitting on this for so long i just was able to edit it :)

[isaut]

𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔, 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓— f!reader x captain rex. 6.7k. ao3

coincidence number two: you're running errands. he's a civilian for the afternoon. previous. masterlist.

You make your reward purchases before your necessity purchases. They are of the same vein— the new lip gloss tube and new mascara will serve their purpose when your currents run out. The record you’d found at the vintage store was warm and vibrant, welcoming to the ear. They’ll stun and impress at the next cocktail hour you host. 

It would have been a crime to part without it. 

Just as it would have been a crime to not part with the extra gelato that hadn’t been on your grocery list, to have exited the grocery store without your arms over flowing with bags. Flowers spill from the top of one of them— pink and white and orange for your kitchen table. When you get home you’ll combine them all in one of those artisanal vases you’ve acquired from more flea markets than you can count. 

Marauding as a civilian, Rex spends his afternoon off wandering the streets of Theed. He knows upon any close inspection he’s anything but, but the day is young. The sun is nearly high in the afternoon air, casting the streets in a harsh glow. The fountains trickle consistently, the water gleaming under said beams. Mothers sit on the edge of the stone, careful to not get their skirts wet, while their children run around. 

The oncoming lunchtime is signaled by elderly folk dressed in expensive linens eating their lunch on the iron wrought chairs outside of their favorite bistros and cafes. Rex’s gaze lingers over their habits, over the way they seem so at ease with each other. 

He’s not looking where he’s going. 

With your gaze turned towards the sliver of sea visible through the buildings, you collide straight into an unfamiliar body. 

“Oh! Pardon me,” you say quickly, taking a step back. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” Rex says, voice melted by the late spring sun. 

The sunlight illuminates Rex directly, making his hair seem blonder and his skin darker. His eyes are all amber encrusted, sparkling in the light. In turn, the sun has haloed you, showcasing your aura around your body, from the natural frizz of your hair to the bronzed shine on your shoulders. 

“Oh.” “Oh.” 

Rex’s brows pinch together in recognition, just as yours furrow. His lips form a perfect little ‘o’ as yours pull down on the corners. Surprise morphs to disappointment.

“You never called me,” is the first thing out of your mouth, once you recognize who you’re talking to. 

“I–” Rex can’t seem to find the words. Have you always had a mole on your cheekbone? A trifecta of them on your shoulder? Rex clears his throat, snapping himself out of his reverie. It had been dark when he was with you last, after all. “I would, but comms are monitored at work.” 

“That’s the first time I’ve heard that excuse,” you sigh. 

“No, no, I’m being honest,” Rex says, all too quickly. He ignores the little voice in his head that reminds him that if he had wanted to, he could have easily arranged for a secret call. That he knows all the right people for that to happen. “Really. And work’s been real busy.” 

You don’t look impressed. Your eyes rake over his body, both out of irritation and to remind yourself why you had been so keen on getting a call in the first place. “Has it been?” 

Yes. There had been rebel groups on the Outer Rim that needed the Republic’s help with fending off the Separatists. Not only had Rex been off station, he’d been off communications with everyone. “I’m no liar.” 

Your gut– which has an eighty twenty chance of being right– seems to confirm this information with you. 

“No?” 

Rex shakes his head. “If I’m bein’ honest, I’m not smart enough to be a liar.” 

That has you twisting your lips to squash down a smile. Your gut, the same eighty twenty one, tugs and tells you that he’s lying about that one, though. 

He’s cuter in the daylight, your brain supplies you with. Then: He didn’t call you. 

“Well, I should get going,” you say, shaking your hair out of your face. “Um, it was nice seeing you.” 

“Yeah, you too.” The words roll off Rex’s tongue before he can stop them. He calls your name after you, with a simple request: “Wait.” 

Oh, he remembers your name. You turn your attention back to him. He’s caught it again. Your grocery bag digs uncomfortably into your arm. 

“Let me get you lunch. As an apology for not calling.” His eyes seem softer in the harsh light, a please behind bronze irises. 

“I have to take my groceries home, I have sorbet.” 

Rex glances at your bags before coming back to your face. “Let me carry it for you, then.” 

There’s a part of you that wants to put up a fight. Say you’re a big girl, that you can do it by yourself. That he blew it when he didn’t call you back. Instead, you feel something tug at the back of your mind. Something that you can’t quite place. So you sigh, so you shrug the canvas bag off your shoulder and pass it over to him. What harm can come? He’s already been there. 

Rex accepts the bags as if they’re made of feathers. He adjusts them all to make sure he has a good grasp on everything. It’s all rather seamless. You linger to admire for a moment.

“After you,” Rex says. 

The comment snaps you back to the present moment. 

Your eyes linger on him one last time, before you adjust your purse and lead him down the cobblestone roads. 

“So, what work have you been doing?” You ask, making quiet conversation as you walk. 

“Classified information,” Rex replies. 

You hum. “Communication is monitored, classified information… You must be pretty high up on the chain.” You lift your hand to eye level to demonstrate. 

“I am,” Rex confirms. “‘S not much to talk about though.” 

“Well, it sounds like you can’t talk about a lot of it.” Your voice is light at the comment. “So what can you talk about?”

Shit. What can he talk about? Rex thinks for a moment, then shrugs. “I guess not much.” 

“Shame. What are we going to talk about over lunch?” You unlock the gate to the courtyard, then climb the stairs to your apartment. 

“I’m reading a book on military strategy,” Rex supplies, watching as you unlock the door. “But I don’t think that’s something you’re interested in.” 

“Does your whole life revolve around work?” You ask, posing the question once you’re in the kitchen. 

Yes. As a matter of fact, it does. His whole reason for existing revolves around work. 

The sorbet slides into an empty spot in the freezer. The flowers replace old ones in a vase. Your kitchen table has an open magazine on it and a data pad. It feels like only yesterday he was in here, and maybe that’s because yesterday he woke from a dream that took place here. 

You’d made him coffee. Placed it in front of him with a kiss to his forehead. He woke to a battle alarm going off. 

Lunch is taken at a little cafe with a white awning. You know the worker behind the counter well, enough to be on a first name basis with her, as you order. You know the restaurant well enough that you immediately head to the outdoor area, taking a seat so you’re still able to people watch and enjoy your company. 

“You must go to lots of places all over the galaxy,” you note, watching as Rex pours water for you both. 

“Nowhere too fun,” Rex says, taking his seat. 

Unimpressed with the answer, you take a sip of water. “Where was the last place you went, then?” 

Rex debates if it’s classified information. It’s already happened, it’s not as if he’ll be returning anytime soon. And either way, you’re a pacifist. Not like you’ll go running to the Separatists with old news. 

“Ryloth,” Rex says. “What I was doing there, though—”

“Is classified,” you finish for him. “That’s fine. What’s it like?” 

“It’s hot. Wet, too. Even in the desert. The atmosphere holds water in it like a sponge, so as the jungles produce water, it seeps into the atmosphere. And that’s how it rains in the desert areas and why it feels wet all the time even if it’s dry.” 

“I didn’t take you for an environmentalist.” 

“‘S just interesting.” Rex tries his hardest to downplay his knowledge. 

“I think it’s interesting too. Two years ago we had a twi’lek from Ryloth showcase his work at the gallery. All of his art was drawn with the different clays found there.”

“There are a lot,” Rex says. Some of it is even flammable. He watches with rapt attention as you fumble around in your purse for your sunglasses. 

“I hope you don’t think I’m being rude, the sun is just really bright,” You say, holding them open and with the leg near your lips. 

“We can swap spots if you’d like,” Rex offers in a heartbeat. 

“No, no. I like the sun. It’s like I’m photosynthesizing.” 

Rex thinks it’s an apt description. If you were a flower, you’d be the prettiest one. He doesn’t know much about botany, but he thinks you’re comparable to an orchid. Maybe the cattleyas, with their delicate, ruffled petals that match the flow of your hair. Or the oncidiums, which look exactly like women dancing where the blooms join together. Or even the laelias, with star dripped petals that resemble legs spread— 

“I don’t get a whole lot of sun,” Rex says, stopping his train of thought. 

“That’s a shame. Why not?” 

“Normally on a fleet ship.” 

You lean forwards. “What’s space like?” 

Rex blinks. “Have you never been?” 

You shake your head. “No.” 

The idea baffles Rex. Only staying on one planet for an extended period of time? For a lifetime? It was unfathomable to him. Your food arrives, as he ponders over how different your life is from his. Then again, perhaps in a different life, he’d like to stay in one place. Especially if it was a planet as nice as Naboo. 

“So, what’s it like?” You press. 

“It’s… Well. It’s big. Really quiet.” 

“What about the stars?” 

“There’s lots of ‘em. Really tiny. Looks kind of like static.”

“Wow,” you breathe. “I’ve always wanted to get off the planet. I’d love to travel… My friends and I had a trip planned to Coruscant but we could never agree on dates to go.” 

“Between you and me, it’s not all that exciting. I mean, it is exciting, but it’s… Loud. Visually and audibly.” 

“We just wanted to go clubbing,” you confide.

Rex chuckles. “I stand corrected, you would probably enjoy it.”

“But honestly, the travel scares me. Hyperdrive? Terrifying. I don’t even like to go on the boats here.” The admittance feels silly. Who doesn’t dream of intergalactic space travel? 

“Really?” 

You nod seriously. “Nowhere I really want to go that I can’t get to on foot.” 

Oh, that’s endearing. “And where do you usually take yourself?” 

“Not many places I haven’t seen you at.” 

Rex chuckles nervously. “Really?” 

“Yeah. I’m a creature of habit.” 

Your eyes descend down to his plate— He’s barely touched his chicken and rice. It’s good, you’ve had it before. Not your favorite thing on the menu, it’s no pesto before you, but it’s good. 

“Do you not like it?” You ask, gesturing towards it with your fork. 

Rex glances down. “No, I do. It’s just… it’s too good.” 

Normally too good implies that it’s deserving of scarfing down the first serving and savoring the second. You wait, expectantly, for elaboration. 

“Compared to rations it’s… I don’t like to tempt myself. Remind myself what’s out there.”

You blink at him. “Really?” 

“Makes it easier.” 

Rex doesn’t do temptation. He doesn’t indulge in local meals filled with seasonings— the cumin and the masala that Jesse lunges after when he’s on a planet. Fried foods, fresh and sizzling and on a skewer are something that he watches, mouth watering against his will, while Fives and Tup eat as much as they can afford. He doesn’t do top shelf liquor, he doesn’t do liquor at all. He only drinks the beer that’s brought to him. 

You think back to the conversation from last time. No pretty women. No art. Now, no food. No good food at least. You doubt military food is very good. 

“I would have thought that you would want to indulge. Do you want to try mine?” 

Rex also doesn’t do hook ups. Not typically. Not unless a mission’s gone really bad, not unless he wants to bury himself out of the pain only to lie in it uncomfortably. He doesn’t do coffees after, he doesn’t do run-in lunches. 

“Sure,” Rex says. You push your plate toward him, and he reaches over and takes a forkful. Normally the motion is done over a steel table under fluorescent lights, when the rations are especially bad and it’s important to have everyone join in on the misery. 

Once more: It’s too good— fresh basil and lemon. Rex shouldn’t have taken a bite. He wants another. He wants another. 

“You should let yourself indulge,” you say, pushing your plate further towards him. 

He takes another bite. “What are you doing after this?” 

“Laundry,” you answer truthfully. “And then I was going to paint.” 

“You paint?” 

Before you can stop yourself, the words are leaving your mouth: “Do you want to come by and look?” 

Rex needs to be back at base in two hours. He’s been entrusted by his General to escort Senator Amidala back to Coruscant. Then, he’s been entrusted by his General to get back on the battlefield, witness more death and destruction and lovelessness. 

“I can spare a few minutes.”

Rex tries your wine before he leaves. The crisp notes dance along his tongue, citrus and gooseberry fermented to perfection. He takes one last bite of his chicken, moist and juicy, and rice, soft and flavorful. 

The last time Rex had been in your apartment, it had been by the guidance of the moon. Then, scattered from the dutifulness of his mission with your groceries. Now, under the relaxed sunlight, he has a better view of the intricacies of your railing, the floral swirls soldered together. The fountain in the center of the apartment courtyard bubbles and flows. The mosaics of the tiles are clear in the light: blues, greens, oranges, stark against the light grout.

Your keys join the others in the little tray by the door. Your shoes come off, as do his, and the two of you head through your apartment. There are paintings Rex passes that he hadn’t recognized the last time he was here. Not that he was looking, by any means. His attention had instead been focused on you. 

But the paintings. They’re watercolor and oil, still life and landscapes encased behind class in treated dark oak frames. 

The doors to your balcony are open. Sea breeze filters up from the ocean through the doors, rubbing against the sheer curtains like a playful, large kitten. You get good sunlight in your apartment. It warms the room with both light and atmosphere, streaming in through the windows. 

“Are you not worried about bugs?” Rex asks. 

You turn around to face him. “Bugs?” 

“Yeah. With the…” He gestures at the open doors. 

“We don’t live near a swamp. And anyways, it costs too much to run the air conditioning.” You turn back towards the doors and head out through them, letting Rex trail behind you. 

Suddenly a spark of nervousness crawls through you. You play with your fingers, glancing out over the quartier of Theed you live in. Then, you gesture towards your painting where it’s leaned against an easel with a now dry watercolor palette beside it, suddenly feeling silly. Why would some random man– because Rex is still some random man– care about your art?

“Well. This is what I’m working on right now,” you say. 

Rex first notes the craftsmanship of the worn easel. The natural grains in it. The only metal being the small hinges. The painting, however, is another story entirely. 

“It’s pretty,” Rex says. The watercolors are delicate dabs of life. You’ve captured what must be the sunrise over your little neighborhood view. The blue-hued warmth spreads over the delicate buildings, creeping over inked lines. 

He doesn’t have much else to say. It’s pretty. The flowers are larger. 

“It’s really pretty,” Rex repeats. 

Your cheeks warm. “Thank you.” 

You glance over at the painting, then over at Rex, hesitantly. His gaze slowly leaves the painting to meet yours. 

“I wish I had better words to convey how pretty it is.”

You swallow under his gaze. 

“Pretty is just fine,” you say, “I remember: no art. No pretty woman, no dancing either.” 

Rex feels his face warm. The tips of his ears go pink. “There’s more to me than that.” 

“I’m saying it as a reason why you can only describe it as pretty.” It, because you don’t want to presume he was talking about the painting. Part of you hopes that he wasn’t only talking about the ink. Part of you hopes he was also talking about you before him. “Do you want something to drink? I can make you espresso.” 

Rex watches with rapt attention as you twirl a piece of your hair around your finger. He forgets, in his gazing, to reply. 

“I also have limeade. That is, if you can spare the time.” 

He can absolutely spare the time. “It’s whatever you want to make.” 

You check the analog watch on your wrist. Delicate, your chosen color of jewelry. 

“Let’s have espresso. I’ll make us double shots, it's just a little too late to take a nap.” 

The prospect, the idea, of napping is a new one to Rex. He’s never had one offered to him, never seen one ever partaken in. Meditation over naps. One could sleep when they were no longer part of this world. 

Sitting back at your kitchen table, Rex watches with great interest as you make the shots. You have specific mugs you let the brew pour into, and specific saucers you rest them on. From the pantry you receive two sweet looking cookies, setting them on the saucers. 

Saucers in hand, you look over at Rex. His fingers are lightly feeling a flower petal between them, thumb rubbing over the soft, colorful leaves. Cut at their base to decorate the water vase, the monochrome flowers are a quiet accent to the brightness of your kitchen and the appliances within. You almost don’t want to disturb him. 

“Let’s have them on the couch,” you suggest, voice as gentle as seafoam. Rex’s gaze immediately flits to you, his hand dropping just as quickly. You watch with fondness. “They’re pretty, aren’t they?” 

“Yeah,” Rex says. “We don’t have plant life on the station.” 

“I have more in the living room,” you say, tilting your head in the direction of the other room. Turning, you head there, letting Rex follow behind you. 

The saucers are set atop mosaic tiled coasters on the coffee table. You busy yourself in front of the stereo, picking through albums until you find one for the mood, sliding the record from its case and resting it upon the disc. Acoustic bossa nova fills the room. Crossing the space, you cross your legs on the couch, letting Rex take the cushion right beside you. 

Your knees barely touch. It causes your breath to hitch, just ever so faintly, in the back of your throat. 

“It’s called a monstera deliciosa,” you say, in reference to the subject of Rex’s gaze: the large, green beast of a plant in the corner of your living room. It’s almost too big for the space, despite the fact that– “It won’t stop growing. I keep having to cut off leaves and propagate them for my friends. Or I leave them in cheap little pots on the side of the road for people to take.” 

Rex looks at you from over the espresso cup. 

“It just won’t stop growing,” you say. 

Rex doesn’t know exactly what to say. You must love it a whole lot seems a little too personal. Seems a little too on the nose. It’s pretty seems overused, but it’s what comes out of his lips. 

The giggle that escapes you is one you can’t help. You cover your mouth with your hand, holding the sweet little cookie between your fingers. Your hand had originally been on a path to dip the treat into your coffee, but the detour was needed. 

“She is.” 

You take a bite of the cookie.

“You must love it a whole lot,” Rex says, letting the comment bubble up through him. 

Glancing over at the plant, you take her in for a moment. All green stems, fanning leaves with teardrop holes in them, as if gravity was pulling them open. 

“I’ve had her since I was in school,” you comment. 

Rex reminds himself that it’s a normal thing to go to school. That not everyone is plucked up from a young age to undergo various trainings and trials to make them soldiers– peacekeepers. 

“What did you go to school for?” Rex asks. 

“Art history,” you say, still looking at the plant. Then, you look back to him. “Then back again for Gunganese art history. And then again, one last time, for a focus on art during the Suffering Period.” 

Rex nods. 

“Someday there will be an art historian who will study all the art made now,” you note. 

“And what do you think she’ll notice?” 

Humming, you ponder over the answer. You take a final sip of your espresso. Lean back against your couch. Gaze up at the ceiling. “I don’t know.” 

Rex studies your profile like this hypothetical historian will study the present. 

“I think she’ll think it’s interesting how war is portrayed,” you finally decide on, turning your head to face Rex. “But we don’t have to talk about that.” 

“We can, if you want,” Rex says. 

Your eyes flit down to glance at his hands, then back to his face. “Have you looked at art recently?” 

Rex has to take a moment to think. He finishes his espresso. “There are some pieces in the Senate building on Coruscant. I’ve never really…” Suddenly he feels embarrassed. “I’ve never really paid a lot of attention to them.” 

“Are they boring?” You ask. Then, coming to your own conclusion: “I bet they are. All the good art on Coruscant comes from the lower levels.” 

“I thought you’d never been?” 

“I haven’t, but I’ve acquired art from there. It’s all so… If it comes from the upper levels, it’s too perfect. The stuff from lower tells a story. There’s real emotion there.” 

“How come?” 

You shrug. “No idea.” 

Rex nods. “I have a brother who likes art. He draws on napkins and stuff.” 

“With a pen?” You ask, a little surprised. 

Rex nods again. “Yeah.” 

“I didn’t know they had those on ships,” you say, the words leaving your lips before you realize how ignorant you must sound. No reason not to dig the shovel in a little deeper. “I thought everything was done with holograms and screens.” 

“Yeah,” Rex chuckles a bit at that. “Most of it is. At least ninety-eight percent of it. The other two percent is Tup drawing.” 

“He must draw an awful lot to make up for two percent of all the activities up there.” 

We all have our hobbies would be a lie. “He doesn’t get a lot of sleep. Or, he doesn’t get as much as he should.” 

You rest your arm over the back of the couch, head against your knuckles and shift your entire body to face Rex. “That’s kind of the essence of art, though. Finding time for it no matter what. I bet she’ll be studying whatever she can find of his work.” 

Rex doesn’t mention that it would all look like he’s drawn the same person over and over again. Instead, he mirrors your position. 

“Really?” 

You nod. You glance at his chest, then back to his face. “Yeah. I’m almost certain of it.” 

Rex moves his hand to rest on his knee. 

“Do you like my living room or my patio better?” You ask. 

“Hm?” Rex’s eyes seem to go into focus again, as if you’ve called him back to the present. 

“Do you like my living room or my patio better?” You ask again, no hard feelings. 

“I think they both have their own pros,” Rex says. 

“Do they have cons?” 

“No,” Rex says, quick to shoot that question down. 

A smirk pulls up at the corner of your lips. Just barely noticeable. “No?” 

Rex shakes his head. They’re not on a cruiser light years in the sky. They happen to be yours. Safe from the spoils, or lack thereof, of war. And he’s been enjoying his time with you. All two times he’s met you. 

“C’mere,” you murmur, reaching your hand out for him. Your fingers are just out of reach of his collar. “Did you know that coffee is a slight aphrodisiac?” 

Rex takes in your lidded eyes, your widening pupils. “Only slight?” 

Your gaze dips to his lips, his collarbones, his eyes. 

“Only slight?” Rex prods, leaning forwards. Your fingers catch on his collar, pulling him closer. 

You nod. Rex doesn’t stop leaning in. 

Rex enjoys himself. 

He’s laid over you on your couch, leg slotted between yours. One of your hands is on the side of his face, able to feel his jaw work as his lips pass over yours. The wind brushes through your open balcony door, sprawling over his back. There’s slow, lazy music playing on your stereo, and your bodies move in time with it. 

The urgency that Rex should be moving with is nowhere to be seen. His hips roll against yours lethargically, and one of your legs is thrown over his hips. There’s coffee and sweet cookie on both your lips, slipping and sharing between taste buds. 

Each pass of his clothed and poorly concealed hardness causes gravity to pull your legs wider, the universe eager for your pleasure. It’s been years since you’ve indulged in the pleasures of the body while the sun was still out, and it’s better than you remember it being. 

Perhaps it's because Rex takes up space. He consumes you, soap and faint shaving cream infiltrating your senses. You wonder if it’s too heady to be taken in the middle of the day. If you’re too grown, if that’s something that only teenagers do when their parents aren’t home. 

“When do you have to leave?” You ask, pulling back just a millimeter from his lips. 

Rex glances over at the analog clock sitting on your mantle. “Forty minutes.” 

You place a hand on Rex’s chest, gently pushing him back. Rex slides back, sitting on his knees. Worry flashes in his eyes, brows furrowing. 

“Gonna go grab you a condom,” you say. 

Rex’s ears go pink. “Really?” 

“Unless you have objections.” 

Rex doesn’t have any objections. The only thing he can object to is the lack of time— only forty minutes. Less, truly, because he has to be walking out the door in forty minutes. Now, thirty-nine. 

You return, little foil between your fingers. 

Before you can sink to your knees between his legs, Rex’s hands are on your waist and maneuvering you to sit on the couch beside him. 

Before you can question his actions, Rex’s lips are back on yours. His hand slides over yours, taking the packet from you. With his hand on your back, he gently lowers you backwards against the couch. 

Bunching your skirt up, you expose yourself to him. Your panties are embarrassingly dark, damp at your core from just a little bit of kissing. 

Rex has that look on his face, the one where his brows are pinched and his mouth is slightly open as if he’s both shocked and deeply appreciative to be in this situation. His thumb drags over the growing wet patch, and his brow furrows. 

You’re shaven. Velvet soft. 

“What happened?” He asks. 

In turn your brow furrows.  “What do you mean?” 

“You’re… You shaved.” 

“I’m waxed.” 

Rex blinks at you. You sit up on your elbows. “I went on a girls trip to the beach. So I got a wax beforehand. I got back in yesterday.” 

It’s more information than Rex needs. He simply nods. 

“What?” Insecurity begins churning in your stomach, taking over the heat that had been building. Rex’s eyes flit up from your cunt. 

“Nothing,” he says, fingers dipping under the waistband on your panties. He slides them down, sighing upon seeing your exposed pussy. He’s missed this. He’s been thinking about it, been thinking about you. 

You giggle. “Have you been?” 

Rex’s eyes widen. “Did I say that out loud?” 

Grinning, you nod. “Yeah, you did.” 

A ruddiness fills Rex’s face as he flushes. “Didn’t mean to.” 

“I’ve been thinking about you, too,” you admit, though you feel your body warm in embarrassment at the statement. There was a reason you were so insistent to feel him inside you again. 

Humming, Rex runs his hands on the insides of your thighs, pushing them further apart. “Really?” 

You nod. You wrote about it in your diary. 

Rex doesn’t share that he’s thought about you so loud it’s earned him more than one reminder about Jedi sensitivity from his General. The last being on an airship after a battle. General Skywalker had bumped him on the shoulder, mumbled that he could hear him. 

He doesn’t want to think about that right now.

Rex’s lips glide over yours, his tongue dancing in the tang of your pussy. Your fingers rack over his hair, scratching at his head. His tongue swirls around your clit, lips closing in after it. 

Essence escapes from your cunt, trickling down your smooth skin. Soft moans escape from your lips, floating into the warm air. 

Your body hungrily accepts the finger that slides inside you. Sitting up on your elbows, you want to watch, watch this mysterious man who’d rather be on his knees at work. His brows are furrowed in concentration. You squeeze around his finger and he moans into you. You wonder if he’s also gotten ahead of himself, if his mind also races forwards, thinking about the next instead of the present. 

It’s loud, all the slick and saliva swimming together. Rex’s tongue is dutiful and steady, his fingers working in tandem. 

Rex’s eyes crack open to gaze up your body. He ends up meeting your heady stare, the rise and fall of your chest. He pulls away, his fingers still working in those easy motions. 

“Come here,” you beckon, pulling the hemline of your shirt up to expose your breasts. You haven’t forgotten the array of hickies you were left with, the days of forgoing low cut tops. 

Rex seemingly misunderstands, instead shooting straight for your mouth. He swallows a moan, one that bubbles out of you as his fingers continuously beckon your closer towards a climax. 

A third finger slips inside you when his lips finally wrap around an under stimulated nipple. You groan through a bitten lip, arching your back into him, hips rolling into his hand. It feels good. So much better than your own. Thicker. Longer. Better reach. 

Better than your friend’s slender fingers after a drunken dinner on the beach. Rex seems to remember you. Remember all the crevices inside your body, remember the basics of what you like. Like he’s been replaying that night in his head, like a poet and their haiku.

“Rex, please… Want you inside…” you insist through a sigh, squeezing around his fingers. 

Rex lifts his head. “But you haven’t cum yet.” 

Your jaw goes slack. Rex’s cock throbs at the plumpness of your lips, puffy from biting. 

“It’s polite,” Rex elaborates. 

“We don’t have very long,” you reply. “Next time you’ll call me and—” Your breath hitches as Rex’s fingers grind into you, curling upwards. “—and we’ll have more time.” 

“Next time?” Rex likes the sound of that. He slowly removes his fingers, and brings them to his lips. It’s utilitarian, the way he’s after the taste. But he has to commit it to memory— He isn’t sure there will be a next time, that there will be a phone call. But now, the sun is soft and you’re sweet on his tongue and on his eyes. 

You nod to answer his question. One of your legs slides off the couch as you sit up, grabbing the condom off the table. 

“I wanna do it,” you say, eager to feel the weight in your hand. 

Rex chuckles, enamored and a little self conscious, at your enthusiasm. His pants and briefs find their way onto the floor and he takes his shirt off for good measure too. 

Your eyes linger on his dog tags, glinting in the afternoon light. Instead of calling attention to it, you take his cock in your hand, all warm and heavy, and swipe your finger over the head, through the pearly bits of precum crying there. 

Rex gasps. His chest heaves, rising up and down as an arm stretches across the back of the couch. 

You want to kiss it. Kiss the fat tip, let your tongue lace through the seam. But you had tried to earlier, wanted him salty in your mouth so he’d be relaxed, and had been, quite kindly, redirected. 

So you pump him once. Twice. Three times for luck. The condom glides on, sucking against him. Almost too small. 

Rex takes you on your back, with one leg lifted above his shoulder and the other hanging off the couch. His movements are shallow and even, pressing you further and further towards the armrest. His dog tags swing in your face and you’re caught with the unexpected urge to bite them. 

Rex glances from you, out the open patio doors. A few birds flock along the horizon. The sun is setting. He sits back, hand resting on your thighs and watching intently as your breasts bounce with every thrust. 

He glances over at the clock on your mantle. Fifteen minutes. He swears to himself. This is why he doesn’t like quickies— He wants to be buried in your warmth for as long as possible. 

Taking his tags in his teeth, Rex leans back over you as his thrusts speed up and harden. You cry out in shock, though it quickly warbles into pleasure, as your core tightens in pressure and then suddenly, without warning, snaps. Your legs shake around him, pussy pulsing around his throbbing hardness. 

Rex’s mouth opens in surprise, tags dropping. His hips slow as his attention focuses on guiding you down from your high, but you’re quick to shake your head. 

“N-no, keep going,” you urge. “Want to feel you cum.” 

“But—”

“No buts,” you breathe, hiking your hips up slightly. “Please, it’ll feel so good.” 

Rex nods and pics up the thrusts again, returning them to his original speed, the one that had made you cream around him. Your hand travels between your bodies, fingers rubbing desperately at your clit as you feel a second, stronger orgasm approaching. 

“I’m going t’cum again,” you warn. 

“Fuck,” Rex swears, then quickly apologies. His hand finds purchase on the back of your thigh and presses you open, creating more of a stretch. 

You swear this time, brows knitted in pleasure. With each thrust you can feel Rex’s balls, wound tight, slapping against you. 

Without thinking, you clap a hand over your mouth as your second orgasm shakes through you. Rex ducks his head, chasing his own high in erratic throats before he moans directly into your breast. 

You feel light, like you’re floating. Too light. 

You’ve painted Rex’s groin and the v of his abs. 

“Sorry,” you breathe. 

Rex shakes his head, falling against you. His face rests in the crook of your neck. “Don’t worry about it.” 

His cock twitches inside of you. 

You let out a breathless laugh. With gravity, your head turns to the side and you look at the clock on your mantle. Your cunt throbs around him, and he exhales sharply. There’s a little twitch in response. 

Part of you, the dirty naughty part, wishes there was more mess to clean up. For Rex to dip his head down and lap through, for him to—

Your train of thought is cut off by a sudden yet slow loss. Rex eases himself out, hands on your knees. Immediately, your hole pulses at the sudden loss. 

“Sorry,” Rex says, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee. Your heart, once more, flutters. 

“‘S fine,” you murmur, tossing an arm above your head. The sun soothes over your body, urging you to close your eyes. 

Instead, you watch as Rex disappears into your bedroom, then your bathroom, and returns with a warm washcloth. 

It all feels so natural. Just like last time. 

His hands are steady as he cleans you up and then himself. He tucks himself back into his pants, then his shirt, then moves to grab your underwear off the ground. 

“Leave it,” you say softly. “I’m going to take a shower.” 

“Oh.” 

You move your legs so Rex can sit back down on the couch, then you place them in his lap. 

Mournfully, Rex replies with a hand on your shin, “I have to get going.” 

“You sat back down,” you point out. 

You’re right. He did. 

Rex’s hand rests on the inside of your calf, rubbing softly. He bows his head, leaning over to press a kiss to the top of your knee. 

“Poor baby,” you murmur, reaching to scratch your nails against his hair. Rex raises his gaze to yours. “Have to go back to work on such a beautiful day.” 

The day is beautiful, Rex can agree. It’s gorgeous. Stunning. He presses another kiss into the daylight that streams across your skin. 

“Tell me about the rest of your day,” you coo. 

If you were a Separatist spy, you’re the best one they have. Rex melts into your words, crawls up your body to place more kisses against the soft skin. 

“Just some escorting work,” Rex says. “Easy stuff.” 

“No danger?” 

“Shouldn’t be any.” 

Rex hovers above you. Your lashes glide closed and then open as you gaze down Rex’s body before back up to him. You cup his face in one hand, thumb smoothing over his cheekbone. 

“That’s good. Are you going to call me this time?” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

“Do you promise?” Your voice is almost a purr, your thumb sliding down Rex’s bottom lip. 

Rex nods. There’s a hypnotic rhythm to his breath. “I’ll call you. The next time I’m in Naboo.” 

“You can send me a text, too.” 

“I want to call you.” 

You swallow. 

“I’ll call you,” Rex promises. He lowers himself slightly, unsure if he’s allowed to get a kiss or not. This is a hook up, right? 

Your lips meet his half ways for a long peck. 

“Good boy,” you say against his lips. 

Rex nods again. “I have to go.” 

“I know.” Your breath mingles with his. “You don’t want to go.” 

Rex shakes his head, agreeing with you. He doesn’t want to go. You press a brief kiss to his lips. 

“I’ll hear from you soon.” 

Rex nods. Slowly, he eases off your body, eyes leaving even slower. 

“You don’t do this often,” you note. 

“No, I don’t.” 

You readjust your clothes so you’re decent again. Pantyless, but decent. You sit up on your knees, dancing your fingertips along his ears. 

“I’ll walk you out,” you murmur. There’s a feeling in your stomach that he won’t leave on his own. 

Rex stands, and your hand dribbles off him, landing in his own. He helps you stand, letting go as soon as you’re upright. It’s a careful walk to the front door, where Rex puts on his shoes and you don’t. 

“Bye, Rex,” you say. 

Rex returns the departing words, your name rolling off his lips. He turns, steps through the threshold, and heads down the stairs. He’s in the courtyard before you close the door. 

[cosmocove]

i love making things poorly its so important for the creative spirit that you learn to love being an amateur

[arolesbianism]

I've been digging up some one of my most neglected stories recently and I'm finally actually developing the rest of the cast after like what? 7 or 8 years or smth? I genuinely don't know when I first thought up Lace but she's been floating at the edge of my mind since then as my token true timeloop guy as opposed to Butters who doesn't rly count because the quote unquote timeloop was entirely within their control and only was a continuous loop because they kept consciously trying again and again. Lace on the other hand. Legitimately 100% powerless in her timeloop situation, as in there was quite literally Nothing she could do to end the loops herself. Some gods just threw her in a 50 year timeloop without even doing the bare minimum of telling her first and she just sorta had to live with that until it from her perspective abruptly stopped leaving her to deal with the fallout of everything she went through now that she's suddenly being forced to live a real life again. And as fun as all of that is it has been very stagnated for years because there is in fact a story and world that exists outside of and around this one plot that matter quite a bit and that I have been refusing to properly work on until now lol.

[nmn-yty]

— ๋࣭ ⭑࿐ leaning on you ˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷

read other parts first!!! : part 1 — part 2

pairing: lee know x reader

summary: you somehow managed to cross the line with your bunny, can it be pleasurable for the both of you?

tags: 「NSFW! 18+ only! smut | hybrid!lee know | referring to lee know as minho | hybrid wanting to mate | needy!lee know makes a return | humping/thighjob | nipple play | unprotected sex (i dont condone!) | anal | orgasms for both^^ | cuddles are here i promise | reader has no gender」

word count: 2.5k

a/n: hello! i severely apologize to all of you who have been waiting for this part to come out :( ive been struggling to find time to continue to write, and the motivation with it... but here it is! seriously... i can't explain how much i appreciate all of the love you guys have given to my stories♡ im so happy you guys love bunny lee know so much! i also wanted to keep this as neutral as possible regarding the reader (hence the anal) but you can switch it out in your imagination! (i wanted to have all readers to be able to enjoy!) also this is my first smut story being uploaded... i hope you guys have a good read><!!!~

(special shoutout to @omgsecretsecret for helping me edit this part♡)

+ stylized lowercase, missing punctuation (not done on purpose), and minimal revisions

"so do bunnies like you experience everything a human should?"

you didn't know why your mind was drifting towards this direction. for as long as you had minho in your house, you were sure your relationship would be 100% platonic. he was adorable as hell, eased your mind whenever any worries came to you, and was always there by your side. did that give you clearance to make a move on him? you didn't want to ruin the perfect relationship you two had, but you have needs, and you were wondering if he had the ability to share those same needs.

minho paused for a moment, sitting oddly still while you sat above him. you were sitting on the edge of your bed, playing with his hair while he sat on the floor with his head leaning against the mattress. his head was almost at a distance where you could press your thighs against each side of his face, but you resisted enough so the lingering thoughts of teasing him went away.

he turned around briefly to face you, "what do you mean by 'everything'?"

your face began to flush after you realized how insensitive your question could've been.

"not to pry or anything but... aren't bunnies known for... having a high sex drive?" you spat out quickly before your confidence faded away.

his eyes widened, this is the first time youve seen him this shocked at your words. he was too shocked to even reply to you, not that he had anything ready in his mind. you could feel his presence tense up and you wanted to steer clear of whatever dirty path your mind seemed to wander on. he didn't say anything and just turned back around, finally leaning into your thigh. he wrapped one arm around your leg, feeling your cool skin calming down his burning face. having him so close to you when you wanted to run away in shame felt strange. you were always used to being close to minho, but the sudden affection, especially after that moment, was out of place. your leg started to warm up because of his face. starting to relax a bit, you realized that it wasn't the right time to head across that line.

you smiled and started to play with his hair again, looping each little section around your finger into curls. they eventually sprung back to its natural shape once you let go. minho loved this time with you, when all you did was leave your worries for that day and focused on him. it was his favorite thing to do while being with you. he still carried the thought in his mind, 'maybe something would happen during my need for mating'. only time could tell the new moments you two would experience together.

during the late night, you and minho were cuddling in bed. it wasn't strange for the both of you anymore. you knew that minho felt more comfortable knowing that you kept him safe. cuddling with him was the least you could do to comfort him.

this night felt different though. the question you asked earlier felt like a reach into unwanted territories. you wanted him to expand on his feelings, but at the end of the day he was a shy bunny who got flustered easier than you thought.

unsure of your next thoughts, you closed your eyes and tried your best to go to sleep as soon as you could. feeling rustling from behind you, minho's presence inched closer to you. the movement didn't stop, you could feel him shaking now. was it too cold in the room? you stayed as still as possible, trying to make out the noise coming from him. he was whimpering softly, almost like he needed something desperately.

"m-minho?"

you turned around to face him, tears were welling up in his eyes. he was clearly distraught about something but you had no clue what happened. your heart sank, was it because of the invasive conversation from earlier?

he sniffed softly, trying to make out words but ultimately getting choked up.

"i... i need..."

his eyes glanced down to the bottom half of his body. tentatively scanning his body as to what he was trying to point out, the last and most obvious thing you noticed was a slight twitch coming from his crotch, the cloth sticking up as well.

'fuck... is this really happening?' you thought to yourself. you managed to repress and bury all the inappropriate thoughts you had about minho, but he was about to fuel it once again. his face was as pink as ever, in desperate need for your warm touch.

"is this what i think it is?"

"mating tendencies... yeah... i-ive never experienced it while being human, i dont know if it will feel the same. but i r-really need..."

he was huffing between words, stuttering as well.

"let me think for a second."

you turned facing away from him. rubbing your thighs together, trying to hold back the good aching feeling rising within, you couldn't help but panic for a second. would you help him out because he's in pain and needs to relieve himself? how would this moment affect your relationship moving forward? would it be a normal occurrence, or only during his need to mate? would it be better to just ignore it and try hold on to whatever you two had going on when you first met?

your rushing thoughts were interrupted by something warm, sticky, and hard. something poking at your thighs, trying to squeeze itself in between.

you couldn't help but let out a small yelp. that feeling began to rise in you. there was no way things were going back to how they used to be. the movement kept progressing, you glanced down in front of yourself to find the head of minho's cock against your thighs. you wanted nothing more than to take him, take his body, and pleasure the both of you were bound to have.

"minho please.." you reached down towards his cock, ready to progress. he misunderstood and took it as you wanting to stop. he pulled away, hesitantly, already missing the softness of your thighs.

"mm sorry... i j-just need.."

"hey," you turned around slightly to grab his face. you flashed him a small grin, making sure he didn't feel guilty for acting this way around you. "it's okay."

a tear started to stream down one side of his face. your reassurance made him slide himself back in between your thighs. you wondered how it was possible for it to feel so good on your bare skin. you had shorts on but it all of a sudden became more hot under the blankets. your thighs were coated in a thin layer of his precum. he gripped onto your body for a better stroke pattern.

sweet little moans erupted from behind you. minho was the one engulfing your body with his tall stature against you. however, you felt like you were in charge at the moment. letting your sweet bunny try and cum from your body was more than enough for you to start to get horny yourself.

slipping a hand under your shirt, you began to play with your nipples slowly. you shut your eyes and leaned more into minho's chest, hoping that he wouldn't catch you in the act. sweet little huffs turned into loud groans, he was in a trance and he hadn't even started to properly explore your body. he had ultimately noticed you leaning more into him, even arching your back. he wanted you to feel comfortable and not worry as much about trying to relieve yourself on your own. although you were the one trying to help him, he wanted to be the one to help you with your release too.

"let me.. please?" he said while placing his hand on top of yours, wanting to take your place on your chest. you moved your hand down in defeat, it was impossible to say no to him. his hands felt warm on your bare skin. swirling his fingers around you and occasionally pulling, your nipples hardened more and more. your breath started to get unsteady as you wanted more. shivers ran throughout your whole body.

gently breaking the contact of his cock and your thighs, you turned your whole body around to face him. you locked eyes with him and all the guilt and doubts you had in your mind about you two went away. his cock began to twitch at the loss of warmth. you suddenly placed your hand on him, slowly stroking and gliding on him, your hand becoming a sticky mess. he let out a strong huff and tilted his head back. you both were seeing stars. minho was unable to fathom that you were finally touching him, taking in all the strength to not cum right then and there. you were also shocked at how good you felt. seeing his reaction made you more comfortable and ready to move further.

grabbing your face with both hands, he placed a passionate, wet kiss on your lips. his tongue was determined and he kept moving his mouth in ways that sent you to heaven. pulling away to see your reaction, he smiled, "im still all yours, remember?" his voice just became more sexy to you than ever. you quickly locked lips with him again, smiling through it all. his lips were soft and plump from all the action, he bit the bottom of your lip to signal he needed some air. both of you sharing the same blushing expression.

he tried to drag your body back around but ultimately needed assistance. helping him out, you turned around immediately. sticking your ass out on his bare cock, you moved your hips up and down. minho was at his breaking point. he nudged his mouth near your ear, slowly dragging your shorts and underwear down. "please? let me put it in... i need to feel you.." his breath was hot and low on your ear. you were surprised you hadn't melted into a puddle yet.

you didn't say anything. you were too drunk off of the bliss feeling lingering throughout your whole body. you placed a hand on top of his that was resting on your hip. he took that as a sign to start.

not a second to waste, he lodged his entire length into your ass, letting out a deep moan into your ear. you arched your back more and almost choked up on the intense yelp you let out. he filled you up so good, it barely hurt from all the precum he was dripping with. he also took his time on the first stroke, pulling out his length so you knew how its absence would feel. you squeezed his hand, wanting more.

he slowly stroked back in, his high coming back harder this time. you felt like your heart was going to explode. his slow rhythm became more loud and sloppy, the wetness spreading throughout your bodies. syncing your moans with each pump, you instinctively rolled your tongue to hang out and pant more. you wanted this feeling to last for as long as possible.

the pace began to increase, and minho wasn't holding back on his moans. this whole time he was in his human form, but this much work was bound to make him change. you didn't notice at first, but his bunny ears appeared and drooped down, gently caressing your face. being in his hybrid form made him more bunny like, it made him go faster. the rhythm was so irresistible, it was fast but gentle, hitting you in all the right places. you felt yourself being filled with more fluid, gliding himself became easier than before.

he held onto your body even closer and tighter. minho started to felt bad about involving you in this situation, but you did want to be closer to him in this way. he wanted to make sure you felt satisfied, so he held himself back and focused the pleasure going to you. the final stretch of your rising heat and the steady rhythm snapped you out of your trance.

"s-slower, please minh-ho," you whined out. you couldn't tell, but he began to smirk at the way his name sounded in that tone. it drove him crazy, the fact that he was actually making you a complete mess. you wanted to savor this addictive feeling, but the slower strokes made your body greedy.

it all came rushing in at once, you let out one last yelp as you rode through your high. minho helped you by holding on to your shaking body.

the sight of your worn body filled himself with so much pride, he was shocked that he hadn't came yet. "did that feel good?" his voice was low and velvety in your ears again.

"y-yes," you managed to whisper out. still sensitive, you could feel him twitching around your walls, which made you choke slightly between breaths. he was trying his best not to move too much, but his body wasn't on his side.

you wanted to help him, but first you needed to recover. he moved his head to your neck, slowly sucking and kissing around to make sure you were okay. his sweet behavior was very calming, especially after the first orgasm you experienced with him.

"dont you want to cum too?" your question snapped him back to the situation at hand.

"can i?"

you nodded lazily, about to doze off at any minute. however, minho was quick to return to his rough pace, making your eyes steady again. he buried his head back onto you, acting like the shy bunny you knew too. the deeper and harder he pumped, he suddenly whispered a quick 'fuck' under his breath, pulling out of you. he grabbed his dick and painted your ass with his warm, thick cum.

it was beautiful, seeing how happy he was to finally get his first orgasm as a human. he pressed his body up against you, getting all the cum and sweat on his body as well. he didn't mind it though, he was too tired to clean up.

he looked drained, you noticed the beads of sweat all over his face and body. he was glistening with a new aura, and he looked like the most beautiful thing in the world. he still managed to give you a crooked smile, letting you know it was a good experience. you started to get flustered, even though you two just experienced the most intimate action ever.

you changed your position, letting your face sit on his chest. you buried and hid your red face from him. he gently reached up to pet your head, soothing you to sleep.

waking up to minho distanced away, you couldn't help but pull him back into a cuddle. he had quickly turned back into his bunny form to recharge from the actions that took place last night. he didn't flinch at all from the movement, he just slowed his breathing down as he was surrounded by a sudden warmth. you couldn't help but feel a little sorry about the sacrifice he took today. you pet his body slowly, kissing his head gently. you wanted to apologize for the state he was in now, but he was the one who made sure that it was okay to go through with in the first place.

♥︎taglist: @lailac13 @palindrome969 @lunathewonyoungstan @syedazarintasnim @yourlocalstayyxi @yukichan67 @qwonyoung23 @cupidcures @verynormalsstuff @leezanetheofficial @brainrotahahaha @kim-hao-han @b0os-jellfyfish @l33felix @wirwirfr @skzmylove75 @katsukis1wife @zyoopioo @katsukisloveinterest

© nmn-yty ★ 7.15.2024

[stxrvel]

i don't wanna live forever (1)

summary: reader couldn't stop having deaths in her life ever since the Supersoldier serum came into her life. no matter how hard she tried to stay sane, it seemed that life didn't want to give her a break. until, one afternoon, she learned that one of her old friends was alive… (you guys know im bad at summaries, but please give this one a chance)

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: +4.5k

warnings: angst, major character deaths, canon deaths¿?, bad words, english is not my first language! thoughts of revenge and death, this is like an introductory chapter, so the buckyxreader interaction is low, but it'll get better, i promise!

note: holy fuck guys. i just spent like five hours writing and editing this and i fucking love it. its been a while since ive been this proud of a work, im actually scare the emotion will disappear, but i really want to rejoice in this one. i wanted to write something a little different from my usuals, maybe a little common in the fanfiction world, but i started and i simply could not stop (or maybe just approach this bucky fic from another perspective). so this is the first part and i'll try with all my heart to keep this going because it was fucking insane, at least for me. i really hope you all like this as much as i do! feel free to leave any comment! thanks always for all the support!! see you next time <3

part 2 ; part 3 ; part 4

When you went into the Supersoldier serum project with Steve, you thought you were going to change the world. Of course, at that time when technology was relatively new any invention felt like the beginning of a new era. That's how it was all sold to you and it was how you expected everything to turn out… Until you realized that it was all really a waste of effort and time.

They were just propaganda for war. Not to stop it, to promote it. To motivate it.

You tried, on several occasions, not to think too much about it. You tried to stay out of it as Steve sometimes asked you to, even though even he didn't want to, as Bucky asked you to when you lay on his shoulder to cry in the little time you had free between trips. It was a great burden of guilt and helplessness.

Until you and Steve, with the almost imposed help of Peggy and Howard, rescued Bucky from the evil hands of Johann Schmidt and his nefarious organization, HYDRA, that, unbeknownst to you, would haunt you for a long time to come. It was only after that, after spending several sleepless days on edge thinking about what might be happening to Bucky, that you and Steve were finally able to go out and contribute something. Destroy HYDRA and the Red Skull's plans.

Of course, you realized that not everything could go right when, the one mission you couldn't attend, Bucky didn't return. And then Steve didn't come back either.

“Do you think this will ever end?” you had asked Bucky the day before his last mission.

“Of course it will,” he had answered without hesitation, moonlight illuminating his clear eyes, squeezing your hand as if it was all he wanted to do for the rest of his life. “And after that we can begin to live as it should be.”

But there was no after that, because you never recovered from losing him. From losing them both.

“Are you okay?” Peggy approached, in the middle of the afternoon when the sun was streaming through the stained glass windows of the church, illuminating the spot where Steve's empty coffin had been, because they didn't even find his body. They didn't even think there was any of it left.

You barely moved your head to acknowledge her presence, moving the prayer slip they had recited throughout the mass between your hands. Your eyes were crystallized, in tears that no longer even made the effort to flow, because you had already spent too many days and nights crying. Peggy had been on the other side of the church, sitting next to Howard while the priest spoke, because you had refused to be near them in those moments. You didn't want to be near them.

“As well as one can be,” you slurred, finding that it had been a long time since you'd last used your voice for anything other than cursing and crying disconsolately.

The people had already left, probably an hour or more ago. The empty coffin had already been brought out, all the flower arrangements had been picked up, and the priest was preparing for the evening mass. You knew you had to leave, you knew Peggy and Howard were there waiting for you, but you felt stuck at that moment. You didn't want to leave, you didn't want to get ahead, you didn't want that life if it had to be this cruel.

You heard Peggy's sigh, before she took a seat next to you, a short distance away, averting her gaze to look at Christ on the cross.

You didn't know if you were selfish to be so closed off to your friends at this moments, because they must be grieving as much as you were, but you didn't know how to deal with the future possibilities. Bucky and Steve, great men and soldiers, one even with enhanced abilities, had not been able to make it through the punishment of war. What if Peggy and Howard were the same? What if they too had the cruel fate of dying at the hands of injustice? Could you deal with that? With everyone gone?

Maybe you could open up to them a little more because if not, who else? Turning away from them was not going to ensure their survival in this hate-filled society. Maybe you could protect them, like you couldn't protect Steve and Bucky. Maybe you could make a difference, because you had the chance to.

“You know,” Peggy spoke again, rearranging herself on the bench and crossing her legs, “Steve always knew this was how it would end.”

Her wistful, mournful, fragile voice sent a shiver through your body. Peggy didn't consider herself someone to show herself vulnerable in front of others no matter how close they were, even in those things that hurt her the most, in those things that affected her personally and made her eyes water instantly, she always tended to shut down. And at that moment you didn't dare interrupt her because you knew it would probably be the only time she would talk about Steve in a long time.

“Sometimes we'd talk, between tour trips, and he would tell me that wasn't what he wanted to do, even when he had to convince you otherwise,” her clasped hands would occasionally squeeze between words, blinking rapidly to fight back the tears. “He didn't know if he'd made the right decision.”

You could almost picture him, backstage at the foot of the stairs with that notebook he carried everywhere and wouldn't let go, Peggy at his side nostalgic, as helpless as the others. It reminded you of the times you'd had similar conversations with Bucky, desperate to find a purpose, a way through so much fog.

“The first time I saw him so sure of himself was when he asked us to help them look for Bucky,” she mumbled his name, as if trying not to scare you away by saying it too loudly. “Ever since then it seemed like he'd found that spark…”

“Until Bucky died,” you whispered, the words cutting through the cold and silence, Peggy shifting on the bench contritely.

“He lost something of himself from that day on, it wasn't hard to tell. The next time I heard him so sure after spending days lost, it was on that call from the plane.”

Peggy paused, raising her hand to cover her mouth as her voice faltered. You turned to look at her, wishing you could rip the pain from her soul and leave it in yours. She was trying to contain her emotions, breathing deeply, and in that moment you wondered what life might be like from now on, with the specter of grief following you around, waiting for the next time the dead knocked on your doors, unexpectedly, without allowing you to say goodbye.

“He had told me he wouldn't die in peace until he could get it all over with. And he took it all with him. And I hated him so much for it…” Peggy sobbed, her labored breathing standing out between words. She kept looking straight ahead at the stained glass windows, the expression on her face hard and scowling despite having tears rolling down her cheeks, as if she were trying to blame something for what had happened. Her reproachful eyes fixed on the Christ.

Her wails echoed through the walls of the church, the father on the dais sending them a look of sorrow. He had offered you water, thirty minutes after everyone at Steve's wake had left, when they kept walking, and you stood there.

Another empty casket.

“Ladies,” Howard's voice reached your ears amidst all the physical and emotional numbness. You could barely notice Peggy wiping under her eyes with the pocket square that was surely part of Howard's suit, as she took breaths to get up. “We should go now.”

You heard him walk, his slow, careful steps stopping just behind you. There, on his feet with his chest tight, he rested a hand on your shoulder and gave it a squeeze in support. He knew it was the most you would allow him at a time like this, deciding not to pass up the opportunity to let you know he was there. You sighed, feeling a heaviness take over your body as you stood up.

“Yeah, let's go.”

The next few months passed in a blur. Maybe too fast, maybe too slow, you weren't sure anymore.

Peggy continued to work at the Strategic Science Reserve for a couple of years, calling you from time to time to help her with some jobs. You kept a low profile, practically a fugitive from the state, while trying to live a halfway normal life in Europe. A lot of it thanks to Howard really.

Life had become a rather monotonous routine when you stopped getting so many calls from Peggy and Howard several years later. You knew they were fine, but not being able to return to the country filled you with anguish every day. And trying to lead a normal life became too complicated when you looked in the mirror and it seemed like not a single day had passed since you were in that capsule of Dr. Erskine's with Steve.

Until Peggy called one day asking you to come back. She told you that it was safe, that there would be no state officials waiting for you at the airport, but even if that had been the situation, you wouldn't have hesitated for a second to buy the first plane ticket and fly to see them again. To Howard and Peggy, to melt into an embrace, longing for the lost years.

You had thought that contributing to the fight in World War II had earned you a ticket to at least be recognized in the military, but all you gained was the government with their mad scientists looking for you to try to recreate the Supersoldier serum. Peggy didn't want to risk you and Howard gave you no choice by giving you a plane ticket to Finland with your bags packed.

You wasted many years not being by their side, unable to keep the promise you had made them in your head to be close by to protect them, to watch over their safety.

But when you left the airport there was only Peggy, and maybe that should've told you everything.

Her hair already looked gray, the effects of gravity and time present on her face. You hated to think that you shouldn't have looked any different from the way she saw you last time when she waved you off at that same airport. Her warm gaze was the same, raising her arms with held back tears to encircle you in a big hug. She tried hard not to sob against your shoulder, you felt the choppy movement of her breath against your chest.

She looked so different and the same at the same time.

You walked to her car a moment later, her trying to carry your suitcase and you telling her you were perfectly fine carrying it on your own. Amidst a smile, she walked into the driver's door and you frowned as you saw the empty passenger seat.

“Where's Howard?” you spoke as you sat down, after stowing the huge suitcase in the trunk of the car. The way you moved to buckle up, you didn't notice the way Peggy froze in place, her hands clenching the steering wheel so tightly that her breath hitched from the effort.

“We're going to see him,” was all she said, but she was very good at hiding that something was wrong. Only for a little while.

During the trip, even though you tried to ask things about them, about what they had been doing during this time, you didn't miss the way her shoulders were tense or her eyes very alert. Something bad had happened and Peggy was trying to hide it from you.

When she pulled up in front of a church, you already knew what had happened without her answering a single one of your questions.

Howard had died.

You two had sat next to Howard's son Tony, his spitting image, in complete silence as the prayers went on. At that moment you didn't know what had happened, hoping it had been a quiet and peaceful death, because you didn't know if you would be able to endure another violent death.

Peggy gave you all the details when the mass was over, after the coffin was taken away, and you hadn't felt such fury in so many years. Not since the deaths of Bucky and Steve had that adrenaline rush of anger returned to run through your body as violently as it did at that moment, when Peggy told you that he had been murdered along with his wife. All to steal some prototypes of Dr. Erskine's serum. The damned serums with which everything had started.

This time there was a body in the coffin, but there was also a culprit. Someone to point the finger at and take it out on for years of anguish and pain.

You were at Peggy's house, staying for a few days, when she told you that wasn't all.

Peggy had a suspicion that HYDRA hadn't disappeared when Steve crashed that plane into the ice. Her suspicions generated panic in you, because Bucky and Steve had died for that, now apparently Howard, only for it all to have been for nothing. The feeling of carnage that ran through your whole head made you nauseous, years of helplessness and pain pent up in such a small body had to find its way out somehow.

“It was a man, according to the information I've been able to gather,” Peggy spoke, taking a seat across from you in the dining room of her living room, after pouring you a glass of lemonade. “He didn't die from the crash. He had a concussion. He was hit in the head. His wife died from asphyxiation.”

“Does Tony know?”

“No,” Peggy shook her head quickly, one hand over her heart as if the mere thought caused her physical pain. “It didn't even occur to me to tell him something like that.”

“And he was looking for the serum,” you recalled, a bitter feeling planted in the back of your throat, the memories of the disastrous times during the war coming back into your head like a blinding flash.

“He took them. We don't know who he is or who he works for, but whoever they are, they must have been following us for a long time to know about them.”

“You mean years,” you arched an eyebrow, your fingers touching the cool exterior of the glass seeking some reassurance.

“Possibly. That project isn't recent,” Peggy nodded, drinking her lemonade with a grimace. You stared at the liquid almost finished from her glass, a wrinkle forming between your brows with each passing second and you kept wondering why.

“But what the fuck was going through that asshole's head?” you spat angrily. Rage at already the amount of lives that serum had taken with it and at Howard's recklessness. Rage at the reaper who seemed to be following in their footsteps for some reason, rage at that damn man and whoever his damn boss was.

“It was the only option, Y/N,” Peggy turned her gaze, meeting your eyes with a strange glint.

“What do you mean?” you were almost afraid to ask, your friend's gaze suddenly turning evasive. You watched her run her fingernails over the glass of the tumbler, lost for a moment in thought. The way her shoulders slumped forward in defeat caused a pressure in your chest that made it hard to breathe. Peggy shouldn't be going through these things at this point in life.

“Howard was working with the Pentagon, as a contractor or something. They had found you. Howard felt cornered and they made him sign an agreement.”

With your incredulous look on her face, Peggy didn't dare look back at you for a few seconds. So much had happened since you had left and it seemed that you had only been told about the things you weren't going to care about so much. But if you had known that you wouldn't have cared much about giving some of the state officials their comeuppance. You would've liked Howard to trust you enough to tell you, not live in as much fear behind his back as the last few years must've been. You didn't like the way Peggy's lips curved downward, as if she, too, would've preferred to make another decision had she known this was how it was going to end.

“Howard assured them that he could recreate the serum, and told them he would as long as they left you alone.”

“Fucking asshole…” you closed your eyes, scrubbing your face with your hands. The rough skin of your hands rubbed against the delicate skin of your face, years of combat and mistreatment foreseeing a harshness that reminded you every day of what you'd had to go through to get to that moment.

“I only found out about it after it happened. I didn't see it for like a whole week,” Peggy shook her head slightly, her eyes glistening in the pain of the memories. You shook your head hard, a more violent reaction than you could have anticipated.

“That stupid… stupid asshole! What the fuck made him think I couldn't defend myself?”

“He was trying to do the right thing,” Peggy finally searched your eyes, meeting the red rims that told her you were holding back too hard breaking in front of her, only using that pain mixed with rage to keep you sane.

“And look how that turned out!”

Peggy stretched her hand across the table, with a pleading look asking you to lower your voice, averting her gaze to the hallway. You followed her gaze, for a second forgetting where you were, forgetting that her family was with you behind the doors where you were plunged into darkness. It was past midnight.

You took a second to calm yourself, trying to drown out the uncontrolled emotions and taking deep breaths to calm your fluttering heart.

“And if what you theorize is true…” you regretted the moment those words left your mouth; you didn't even want to finish the sentence.

“Do you think it is?”

“I don't want to,” you shook your head instantly, closing your eyes, the thought sounding illogical inside your head. Your hands on your chest trying to contain the storm of feelings that was making chaos inside your head. “That would mean that everything we did, everything Bucky, Steve and Howard did and sacrificed, was in vain. It will all have been in vain.”

You spent several weeks with that thought in your head, working hand in hand with Peggy, and the organization you barely knew as SHIELD, to track down the whereabouts of the killer of Tony's parents and the one responsible because the Supersoldier's serums were, surely, in the wrong hands.

And yes, it was many years of fruitless missions and dead ends, with you running every field mission and Peggy calling the shots from the New York facility. Every time you felt close to discovering something, it seemed that the enemy rejoiced in your failures and still couldn't understand how they were always three steps ahead.

However, you had to leave the missions when Peggy became ill.

The silent, lethal Alzheimer's.

During the first months in the hospital, she still recognized you. She also recognized her husband and children. But after the first year, she frowned every time her children walked through the door. After a year and a half, her husband had to remind her that they had been married for about forty years.

After two years, she was still only remembering you, Howard, Steve and Bucky. Her whole life during her time in the army was all you talked about, sometimes you would tell her how much more time had passed than she remembered and always, without fail, she would ask you how much you had done in Europe for so long by yourself.

She cried every time she remembered Howard's death. She cried every time she remembered her children. Out of her mouth came a thousand apologies that no one would accept, because there was nothing anyone could do to prevent what had to happen. You wished she had been a serum test subject instead of you.

For several years, missions to find Tony's parents killer were sporadic because you spent more time around Peggy than at the SHIELD facility. She was the only thing you had left of everything you'd ever had, of when you held the world in your hands. She was the last thing keeping you tethered to that reality, keeping madness from flooding your reason. How could you have so many years ahead of you when that was all you had to live for? A life full of the dead, full of pain and suffering. What kind of karma were you paying for?

You were leaving the SHIELD facility, after another failed mission, when Nick Fury stopped you in front of the exit. You almost rolled your eyes right under his watchful gaze, tired of having to meet him anywhere, and exhausted from his comments about this vengeance project or whatever he wanted you to be a part of.

You still didn't know how, being such an exemplary agent, Coulson had fallen into his nets.

“Miss L/N,” the man stopped you with his words, his hands behind his back and a tense stance that caught your attention.

“Fury,” you nodded in his direction, hoping he'd be quick because you were running late for your weekly visit with Peggy. “Do you need anything?”

“I'd like you to come with me somewhere,” Fury approached tentatively, his one eye fixed on your wary expression, which shifted to boredom the moment you thought you knew what he wanted.

“If this is about that project, I've told you a thousand times-”

“No,” he interrupted you, moving forward and removing his hands from behind his back. “It's not related to that. I really want you to come with me.”

“You look agitated, but I need-”

“I'll take you to see Peggy myself after this.”

You didn't like that he knew your routine, even though you weren't doing enough to hide it from the other agents. But Fury looked nervous, even though he was hiding it very well, trying to keep his cool as he looked for ways to convince you.

You figured it wouldn't be a big deal for you to go off the deep end for once. After all, Peggy never remembered you were going to see her.

You set off in Fury's armored vans, not quite sure where you were going, but sure that it was urgent, because he had taken it upon himself to let his driver know that you had to get there as soon as possible.

You took that time on the trip to come up with a new strategy for the next mission because what you were doing up to that point wasn't working and you felt too close to throwing in the towel, figuratively speaking. You could spend years following a ghost, but you wouldn't give up on finding Howard and Maria's killer.

Before the car pulled up to one of SHIELD's secret sections, they passed the giant, imposing Stark Tower. You never saw Tony again after that time at his parents' funeral, not even during his visits to Peggy because you always made it a point not to cross him. You didn't think you'd be able to look him in the eye while you knew his parents had been killed without being able to tell him. You had promised Peggy in her lucid moments that you wouldn't tell him anything until you could find the culprit. You didn't want to initiate that pain if it had to be kept repressed, as yours once was, and probably still is. You had learned, some time after the funeral, that he was living with Edwin Jarvis, and you were glad to know that he would have good companionship to keep him company in such hard times.

Fury, a handful of agents and you entered the vans through the entrance to what appeared to be the parking lot of an old warehouse. Upon entering, the first thing you noticed was the number of armed agents that seemed to be guarding the place, not at all discreet to how SHIELD used to do things. You weren't sure if Peggy would authorize something like that, but you couldn't question the Director's decisions. It wasn't your place.

“What's going on here?” you frowned, watching as every meter there was another agent and another agent. You got out of the car without waiting for an answer from Fury, moving directly toward the entrance where most of the agents were concentrated. You barely noticed their looks in contradiction, running their eyes over you and then over the man trying to catch up to you, dubious as to whether or not they should move. “Move.”

“Wait,” Fury's voice stopped the command in the agents, who turned back to look at you as you sent Fury a confused look.

“What's all this mystery, Nicholas?” the man startled almost discreetly at your tone of voice, the agents stirring uncomfortably, but kept the serene expression that was getting on your nerves. “What the fuck did you do?”

“We got a call from the Arctic.”

“From the Arctic?”

You tried to ignore the way the hairs on your neck instantly stood up, your body alerting you to something your mind still couldn't comprehend. You felt like a deer face to face with a predator, expecting the worst.

“The Colonel informed us of something that might interest us,” Fury's cryptic voice echoed in your ears, drowning out the flicker of uncertainty vibrating from your head to your toes. “They found a plane.”

You didn't even answer him. Your heart began to pound wildly, cornered, ready to have your head bitten off. The tension in your shoulders intensified, with the involuntary movement of your hands as you broke into a cold sweat. The mere implication of his words caused an emptiness in your stomach, a sense of longing and fear you hadn't felt before.

You looked at Fury, trying to find in his gaze the gleam of a lie, but there was nothing there but assurance. There was nothing but recognition and understanding in his gaze, but that didn't make the emptiness in your stomach and the tight chest go away. It didn't make the feeling of being outside your body go away.

You barely remembered to move in the direction of the door, the agents instantly moving out of your way, pushing it so hard that one of them flew out. You moved your eyes around every corner of the room, the cream-colored walls generating a great repulsion in you. And there, in the midst of all the confusion and the storm, a confused and disgruntled face looked back at you. A face you never thought you would see again.

Steve Rogers was standing a few feet away from you, barely comprehending what was happening around him and instantly recognizing you. Your chest compressed once again, the tears you held back for so many years even in your loneliness making their own way into your eyes, endangering to end that mask you wore everywhere you went.

Steve was actually there, looking back at you with his eyes shining in recognition. You didn't know if he was as surprised as you were to react or you looked so bad that he didn't know if he should approach you or not. You just knew it was him, it really was him right there in front of you. He wasn't dead. Steve wasn't dead. He was alive. Ah, he was so alive.

The broken sob that suddenly left you was loud enough to make your friend shed his stupefaction and stride over to where you were. You barely managed to cover your face, between sobs, wails and disbelief, feeling your knees give out, surrendering to the weight of the pain, when his strong arms grabbed your shoulders before you hit the floor. Preventing your fall, as you had wished so many times before.

You cried against his shoulder, when feeling him against your body you knew there was no doubt it was true. You moved your hands away from your face, wrapping them around his waist as tightly and lovingly as you hadn't hugged anyone in so long. Surely the last time you hugged someone like that was when you saw Peggy on your way back from Europe.

Steve wasn't far behind, his arms around your shoulders just as tightly, his chin against the crown of your head, moving from side to side trying to hold back the loud sobs that shook your body.

You couldn't believe it, but it was true, he was right in front of you.

Steve was alive. He had come back to your side. You didn't even want to ask why.

And there was nothing else you could think about for the rest of your life.

[rabidaly]

Ok one more update from a shark in the water? Please???

Here’s the first 1k(roughly)! Keep in mind I haven’t edited and I had like. A three-month long writers block for this fic so I’m not super attached/happy with this intro— it may change when I go back next weekend!

Hopefully it’s enough to wet your appetite tho ;)

—

Stiles had friends.

Lydia was his friend. Erica. Danny and Kira danced the line between acquaintance and actual friendship, but gun to his head, Stiles would count them as the latter. And Scott. God knows they'd been inseperable for over a decade.

It's just—

Stiles didn’t text his friends the way he texted Derek.

Or as often.

It wasn’t anything serious. Just lots of little, trivial things: pictures here and there, Stiles blinking doe eyes at the camera, biting his lip. He texted Derek about his annoying professor, the chronological order of the Marvel movies, his attempts at latte foam art. Stiles rambled and vented and altogether talked too much, but—

Derek always answered.

Even if it was a simple, one-word reply. Even if sometimes it took a couple hours. Stiles wasn’t sure he’d have been able to stop even if he didn’t; every little thing that popped into his head came with the companion thought of, oh! I wonder what Derek would think about this!

ive never seen you play a video game, he texted on Thursday evening.

I don’t. What are you playing?

COD

with scott

R u home?

At the gym.

Stiles had figured as much, but he still caught himself sighing. They were in the Hale-McCall living room, playing on Scott’s family Xbox, both sore and tired from their shifts at work. From his spot on the couch, Stiles could hear Peter humming in the kitchen, most likely prepping for dinner. Melissa was still at work.

And Derek was at the gym. Snooze.

how much can u lift? Stiles texted, before his character on screen ran into a wall and he had to put his phone down. Scott side-eyed him, hard.

Stiles caught the tail-end of Scott taking incoming fire before his phone buzzed again. He looked back down.

I can lift double your weight, easy, Derek had typed, cutting to the heart of the matter.

Stiles pinkened.

for how long?

For as long as it takes. Derek replied. it’s your endurance we need to work on, if anything.

Stiles could taste the sharp edge of Derek’s condescension on his tongue. Something inside him went molten-hot, liquified, like the liquid wax of a burning candle.

maybe you should take me to the gym with you, he typed, squirming at just the thought of it. Derek all sweaty, the graceful arch of spine, muscles flexing as he lifts himself. we could be workout buddies.

Would you wear leggings?

Stiles readjusted on the couch, his leg coming up against his chest.

in public? no.

but I could sit on you.

on your back. while you do push ups

A bit too daring. Stiles bit his lip when Derek didn’t respond. He focused back on the game, hoping to distract himself.

It didn’t help much.

Scott huffed, throwing down his remote when they both died.

“What is with you, man?”

“What do you mean?” Stiles said, peeking at his phone again. No new messages.

“I mean, you’re not even watching where you’re going. You just got us both killed!”

”I’m just—“ Stiles felt unreasonably grumpy. “Bored. Can’t we play something else?”

“Like what?”

Like Mario Kart, per Stiles’ suggestion. The best part about Mario Kart was that Scott was—

“Awful, man. Just terrible,” Stiles laughed as Scott swerved off the road, twisting his remote uselessly, as if that were going to do anything while he wasn’t holding down the gas. “Honestly, it’s embarrassing to watch. You should just stop. You’re bringing shame to your family name.”

“I used to beat you at every game!”

“Yeah, in like seventh grade.” Stiles shook his head. “How’s it feel, Scott? To have peaked in middle school?”

“I haven’t peaked, I’m just—“ Scott threw down the controller as the track completed, screen flashing the stats. Scott in tenth place, Stiles in first. Just like the last time. And the time before that. “Out of practice. God, screw this. I want to play Skyrim.”

“Skyrim is god-awful on the Switch.”

“Well, then, I’ll bring the PS4 down here.”

“But it’s single player,” Stiles scrunched up his nose. “I’m not going to just sit here like your girlfriend and pretend watching you play video games is interesting.”

Scott looked offended. “Allison isn’t pretending. She said she loves watching me play.”

Right.

“Sure she does.” Stiles rolled his eyes. "We can just put on a horror movie or something, play fuck, marry, kill." A weird little tradition of theirs, any time they break out the b-rate horror films.

"Which one do you wanna watch?"

Stiles shrugged, "You pick."

He checked his phone again. Sighed for the millionth time.

Scott noticed.

“Who are you texting?”

Fuck.

”No one important,” Stiles said quickly, and put his phone face down on the side table.

Scott stared at it. “Is that a new phone?”

”What? No.”

”It’s pink," Scott pointed out. "Your phone's not pink.”

Stiles really needed to get a case for the thing. “Okay,” he conceded. “It’s a new phone. I splurged.”

The reaction was immediate.

”Stiles! We’re supposed to be saving up for an apartment!” Scott shook his head. “You’ve got to stop spending money, dude.”

Scott was definitely right about that. Stiles might not have bought the phone, but he'd hardly saved a dime since he’d started his job. He’d been too busy buying— well. You know.

As if summoned by the thought of his underwear alone, Stiles' phone (finally, finally) buzzed. Stiles had moved before his brain had fully processed the sound, snatching his phone up from the table on reflex.

Stay put. I’ll be there in 10.

Stiles’ cheeks darkened to a fire-engine red. Uh-oh.

[nut4shuri]

DATING LETITIA WRIGHT PRT 2!!🤎

Since yall loved the first one ive decided to make a second one.

(this one is a little shorter tho)

Letitia grew up in the UK,meaning she didnt have much knowledge to how things work in the US,cultural,lifestyle,and just a new atmosphere wise.

She's always so in awe by everything about you.

Whys your hair so damn long? Is it so i can pull it."" She said as she combed through the long locks of silky hair.(That 40 inch,yall know it.)

"No it's not so you can pull it,pull my shit its gone be me an you."

She smirked "Or it could just be me in you." she said as she gathered your hair together playfully bending you over the bathroom sink.

"Nasty Ass"

"Where's the rest of your shirt baby" she said as she attempted to pull the cropped tee down lower.

"And yall these are the Good4thebody Blue jeans from shein they're so comfy and they really shape the body" you walked into the camera attempting to give a quick 360 but letita walked in front of you.

"Yall good. Yall dont gotta see all that" she said

"Girl get out my video."

Meeting Your Family

“Y/N who's your friend?“

"Your daughter is just a handful."

Your family chuckled as every one sat at the dinner table,taking in laughs,making jokes,and the atmosphere just felt so right.

Many different Dishes sat on the tables,Greens,Yams,Cornbread,Beans,Chicken,Etc.

"Shes been like that since she was younger"your mom said as she let of a big and vibrant smile.

"Y/N come help mama with the dishes" your mama spoke.

"I like her.."she said making you smile.

"I do to mommy."

"Is she good to you,she seems sweet and full of love"

"Shes amazing,i wouldn't ask for anyone else."

"Well you know what im finna say.."

"Mama..you do know she's a girl-“

“girl yesss“ your mama said laughing.

“I meant like are y'all planning on adoption or something..“

“hmm maybe we haven't really talked about children yet mama.“

"Well you know i want some grandbabies"

You walked and stopped in the door way of the living room. Letita sat talking to your aunts.

"Y/N girl you done got thick on us." Your aunt said as you walked past.

"You been eating good"

"I have."

"She has." Letita looked at you with a smirk.

Yall do fun things like Tik Toks,Vlogs,Pranks And ETC.

“girl no that's wrong way!“ you said as you attempted to teach your girlfriend a new trending dance.

“I be seeing them edits y'all be making about me.“ lettita said as she laid stretched out on the bed beside you,she had her hood on and low eyes. She smiled cocky at her camera making you mug her.

“yeah and y'all better just keep wishing the fuck.“ you said making her chuckle.

“yeah y'all know y/n crazy as he'll. .“

“whatever.“ you said mugging her. She was feeling herself a lil too much.

“come onnn“ you said attempting to pull your girlfriend to the backseat of the car.

She licked her lips and looked at you speaking in a raspy voice “if I come back their,you not gone be able to walk for a month. Now get your narrow ass back up here and put on this seat belt y/n.“

She was always so sweet to you no matter what.making sute you ate and making sure you got ate...

“ma you hungry?“

“ma you want some taco bell?“

“ma whatchu want from the store?“

“I bought you breakfast in bed mamass“

“you want some head?“

She always took you on set whenever she filmed. Making sure you got everything you wanted while their and where was comfortable as you could be.

“you ok ma? You need anything.“ she said as she rubbed your thigh lightly.

You smiled shaking your head and taking a sip of your water sitting back in your chair.

She treated you like the queen you where and would t let up for nun. She constantly reminded you that you where the baddest no matter what.

“ma you dont need no plastic surgery.“

“but..“

“but nothing.“ she said using her hand to raise your chin.

“you beautiful as fuck.“

END

[pumpkin-spice-whump]

Okay I'm super nervous to post this. This is a snippet of my novel I'm going to be publishing later this year (!!!!) And i want to share a bit here. It is an apocalyptic thriller heavy on captivity whump. This is a flashback to our main character being kidnapped and sold. He just got out of the back of a semi where he suffered heat exhaustion. This is one of the pieces I'm happy with so far, so sorry it's throwing you in in the middle!! But hopefully I'll post a bit more as I get further along editing!!

--

Looking back, Jack realized how close he was to death those first few days. He should’ve been in a hospital on an IV, but you know traffickers. They don’t care all that much about human lives.

Every so often the driver of the truck would wake him up and make him drink water, pee in a bucket. He’d blink behind the stupid duct tape blindfold, fumbling for a sense of direction. Sometimes he could hear people talking and walking beyond the walls and windows of the truck and he knew they were at a truck stop.

Faintly, he remembered seeing posters on the inside of stall doors from a trip he took for basketball last year. About the sign for help. Again, he wished he cared enough about kidnapping to remember any of that.

“Can… can I go to the bathroom?” he asked, hoping for a miracle.

Something thudded. “Bucket’s there kid. I’m not looking.”

Jack had no way to know that was true. It was in the back of his mind every time. “No. I gotta like… go.”

It thudded again. “Yeah. I know. Bucket’s here.”

“I’m not… Not in front of you.”

“That’s up to you. But if you shit your pants then you are definitely riding in the back, so keep that in mind.”

He probably would’ve followed Jack into the stall anyway.

Every time Jack was done, the man would give him pills to knock him out, and then wake him up again.

This time, he shook Jack awake and made him sit up. Jack’s head lolled back for a

moment before he could fully wake up. He was so weak and tired, there was no way he would’ve been able to walk to the bathroom anyway. The duct tape was ripped off and he inhaled a deep breath before the water bottle was pushed to his mouth.

“You gotta piss?” Jack shook his head when the bottle left. “Good.”

Then his hands started to tear away the tape over his eyes.

“What’s going on?” Jack asked, tongue heavy in his mouth. He blinked hard against the bright light and was suddenly filled with hope at the idea that he was being let go. Maybe the man felt guilty and wanted to fix the error of his ways! However, after his eyes adjusted he realized that it wasn’t the afternoon sun in his eyes, but the overhead light in the cab.

“My leg of the trip is over. Keep quiet or I’ll put the tape back on got it?”

Jack nodded, too scared to do anything but follow along as the man led him - half carried him really - out of the truck and on the dark pavement.

They were at a rest stop, an abandoned one by the looks of it. The streetlight was off, the bathroom doors boarded closed. There was a broken swing on the overgrown playground.

There was only one other car in the parking lot. A man leaned against the hood. Tall, with a long face set with lines telling his age. Couldn’t be less than forty, maybe fifty. He was wearing a dirty jacket and jeans, like he’d been working outside all day. A baseball cap covered what looked to be graying hair.

The driver let go of Jack and he fell to his knees without the support. A hiss of pain escaped him as loose gravel dug into his knees.

“Will it do?” the driver asked.

The new man looked Jack over, never moving from his spot leaned against his car. “He will.” He reached into his rolled down window and pulled out a manilla folder, tossing it to the driver.

Jack felt like his skull had been cracked open and ice cold water was poured over his skeleton as he realized what was going on. It was a trade. A deal. A traffik. Is that what it’s called? He was being sold like an animal.

The driver took a peak in the envelope, nodding satisfactorily. “Will you be needing anything else from me?”

“Not at all.”

“Pleasure doing business then.” The driver turned to leave but Jack threw himself at his feet suddenly, wrapping his arms around his legs.

“No!” he cried, desperate to not be taken even further from home.

Even though he’d already been passed through two people and driven who the hell knows where, as soon as he got in that man’s car it was final. No more traveling. He was going home with this guy. How would he call for help then? How would he get away? He was taken and now being sold to -- to who?! Maybe he really will be raped. Or experimented on or cut up and sold for parts or--

“No please!” he begged. “Don’t, please I wanna go home! I wanna go home!”

Hands gripped his waist and he tried like hell to kick out, to fight back. He even tried to bite at him, but only got open air. Jack was just too frail at the moment. There was no way he stood a chance against this strong stranger.

The trunk opened and Jack threw his feet up, attempting to stop himself from getting in, panic enveloping him once again. “No! Don’t make me get in there! I won’t be able to breathe!”

His knees were kicked in and he fell right in, arms bound uselessly.

“Feel free to scream as much as you like,” the new man said as he slammed the door shut.

Jack did. He screamed and kicked so much that he did run out of air and passed out. When he woke, the trunk was open again, cool night air filling his lungs and making him cough.

The man threw a bag over his head before roughly taking him by the arm and dragging him out of the trunk. He ignored all of Jack’s tearfilled demands to be let go immediately.

“Some stairs now. I recommend you tread lightly if you don’t want to be thrown down.”

He did, taking shallow breaths like he would be able to hear the stairs better if he did. The bag was taken off of him after another short walk at the bottom, once he was pushed to his knees.

“You can call me Mr. Reeder,” the man said, smiling down at him. “And this is your new home.”

--

That first night was one of the hardest. Jack had to try to go to sleep himself for the first time, with no drugs or panic to aid him. The only thing he knew to compare what he was feeling to was when he went to summer camp when he was 10. First time away from his mom, like really away. He couldn’t call her when he wanted to leave, couldn’t hear her voice. It’s all encompassing, realizing that you are isolated. That you are alone in a way you never have been before.

But even at summer camp Jack knew that he was going to go home in a week. This? There’s no end to this. Jack might… die here. Alone in the basement without seeing his mom ever again…

He buried his face in his pillow and screamed and screamed. When he was too exhausted to keep going, he curled on his side and imagined he was in his mom’s bed with her by his side.

[messrsrobyn]

Ok nobody I’ve asked seems to give me a direct answer so I figured I’d just voice all my concerns with you? You don’t have to answer everything 😭😭

When it comes to fandom friends how do you move from just being moots to being friend friends? I saw a video you made about it when somebody had asked you a similar question but I’m really struggling with getting them to feel like friends and not just random accounts in my phone.

I’ve seen videos people have made and you guys are sharing jokes in the comments. I saw video of 3 girls that said “Us when anyone hates on mesrsrobyn” and you said like “Fan behaviour” which obviously shows that you’re actually their friend and you’re just teasing them.

Also how do you find people who are ok with you not responding all the time (😭😭😭) I’m just genuinely not active very much on any forms of social media. I was in a marauders gc and I was really happy thinking I was gonna make fandom friends but because I wasn’t active all the time they had a bunch of inside jokes I didn’t get and I kinda felt like an outsider.

Most of the people I see you interacting with online seem really cool and fun, so I’m just wondering where to find people like that. Just genuinely from posting?

I’m sure I’ve worded all this so strangely but honestly I’m sad because I’ve been in this fandom for 3 years in November and I have made no real lasting friendships. I feel like you yapping so much LOL

IK THE VIDEO 😭 my besties yup !!

this is long so i'm putting the lil dashy line thingy

i have v limited advice actually bc i don't think i've initiated many of my friendships in fandom?? despite how little i stfu, i'm a shyyy person. i get scared to text first.

my BIGGEST bit of advice is take. it. off. the. app.

i try to get discords mainly (bc i use it most) but once you take it off of tiktok or wherever you met it feels so much less like mutuals. like yes, we met in fandom but now we are discussing our plans for the day and getting to know each other as Robyn not Messrsrobyn.

i made most of my friends from posting !! i made my account as a whole to meet people and (ive been flagging a bit recently actually but) i always try to reply to EVERYONEEE. so most of my friends were just people that commented that i replied to, their name kept popping up in my notifs? boom. friends. one of them said they loved crimson rivers so next time i found an edit i sent it to them.

ALSO !! i'm so bad at replying.

servers im more active in i think, but just... dms? not very good at all. anyone that doesn't respect that or gets mad? 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️ i dont want them as a friend.

like it's frustrating i know! i hate the amount of lil red bubbles i have on every single app but it doesn't mean i value my friends any less and they all know that <3 we don't always have the time or capacity to reply and that's okie.

i tend to get it out the way immediately and test the waters. just a lil "btw i'm really sorry for my reply times! i'm not the best at it but feel free to double text me as much as you want" and always make sure that i follow up on everything that's been said whilst i wasn't replying.

im rambling a bit i fear but the right friends won't get mad at it, or make you feel less important bc of it. it might just take some time to find them but You Will.

i feel like i havent actually given much advice?? i'm genuinely so so so lucky to have found the friends that i have but i did nothing. i think i said in a few of my tiktoks rightttt at the beginning that my dms were open for friends and then i think? hope? that i've kept that energy going of like someone that anyone can message and i'll get back to them (at some point 😭 my tiktok dms are a mess but thats an issue for future robyn) so i've been able to just sit back and naturally find them.

i live by the motto of "the worst they can do is not reply" every time i send a comment or dm to a new person

we're all just losers reading fanfiction !! we all want lil friends to talk to about it so interaction and reaching out gives us that BUT it's the taking it off of the app that takes it from mutuals to friends imo.

this is UNNECESSARILY LONG omg. i never know how to answer these ones but i hope it helps a lil? <3 social interaction is NOT my finest point. potentially my worst i fear.

[juliart-107]

you know what, these ideas have been plaguing me for long enough. here's some hcs of charlie: the hero and sneeg: the hero from these genloss swap ideas and what goes through their head in their final moments

this is rambling time, so apologies if it makes half sense

what if i told you that glhero!charlie's goggles block out the color green, rendering him colorblind and seeing in red hues both in reality and whenever he tried to visualize something. in his final moments, he is finally able to remember the color green. the color of traffic lights, emeralds, fruit, and nature. his life outside. he remembers a person sitting among green, lush grass. he remembers her eyes; green, too. and when the audience decides he's no longer useful, a toy they have gotten tired of, he tries to think of as much green as possible in a desperate attempt to capture that idea of individuality that has been stolen from him for so long. he holds on to that color, to those familiar eyes, to that person who's name is just on the tip on his tongue ("it's similar to the word green, right? gre—thats not right. c'mon charlie, think. you don't have much left, what was her name? you have to remember her, you have to.") as the metal digs into his ribcage. stubbornly, he refuses to give showfall the satisfaction of completely bleaching his mind. he dies with the color green, the color of grace's eyes, in his mind and no one can take that away from him.

you know what else? glhero!sneeg's in-ear tech constantly bombards him with white noise to stop him from acting out of line. when he wakes, that sound has finally stopped, but is replaced with hetch monologuing and, just to mess with him, an obnoxiously loud clock ticking in the room. he begs for the peace of a quiet death. he is able to move his arms so he plugs his ears and for the first time his brain is silent. thats when he realizes, wow, now he can hear what his voice sounds like. he has never truly recognized his own voice, it never felt like it was his own. for some reason, he can only find himself repeating the word "hannah" over and over again, the name coming to him easily like he used to say it out of habit. then, in his head, a memory of a familiar voice, louder than any previous ringing or static, calls a name he assumes that is his—his subconscious flooding with past moments with hannah faster than he can comprehend. as the walls close in he thinks about how no one will mutter his real name again. he thinks about other sounds he will never hear again as well. car horns, dogs barking, laughter, whispered promises... a baby's cry.

anyway, can you tell i slept well? /s

(edit: also, while ive mostly been on twitter, i feel like tumblr is more rambling-friendly, so i may do more waffling about headcannons because the brain rot is strong and i now have a place i can dump it somewhere lmao)

[chilpilled]

ive been bingeing survivor lately because the current season is really good (q sweep) and ngl i cant stop thinking about dunmeshi survivor. laios obvious challenge beast who keeps finding idols, not even on purpose he just likes exploring the island and stumbles upon them on accident. the kind of player who’s dogshit strategically and completely on the outs (doesnt even know theres any strategy happening) but becomes a threat due to constantly winning immunities and finding idols and being endearing so people go from thinking hes easy to take out later to desperate to get rid of him. probably a very polarizing figure for viewers, i think casual fans love him for being a nice and earnest quirky character while superfans hate him for his lack of strategic prowess. i dont see him winning but he probably gets at least a few votes if he makes it to final 3 and he gets asked back for sure because jeff loves his quirky characters.

chilchuck might be a sleeper individual immunity challenge beast (a lot of challenges are dependent on carrying your bodyweight or dexterity) and is probably also narrator of the season. every time a conversation happens it cuts to a chilchuck confessional where hes sitting on a log being like „i hate these people i want to drown myself in the ocean. i want to poison the rice.“ not quite a goat but hes probably too abrasive to win many jury votes, tho it depends on who hes sitting next to. i dont think he wins but he probably becomes a fan favorite due to his bluntness and gets asked to come back in a later season but refuses.

kabru is doing 4d chess and running laps around everybody both socially and strategically and would probably get taken to final 3 where he sweeps the jury if he didnt get weirdly focused on laios and end up alienating his alliances. kabru strong early beginning, obvious winner edit being able to run the game while keeping his threat level low midgame, to meltdown over laios literally just running around the island pretending to be a dog, and getting voted out shortly before final tribal. becomes an iconic figure comparable to the likes of angelina and is definitely asked back, but also for sure on a season where laios comes back too.

senshi has no strategy but everyone loves him for being the provider and also just a genuinely great guy. is probably making his tribe elaborate meals every day and comforting them after challenge losses. everyone loves senshi but unfortunately that makes him too big of a threat so he gets taken out during midgame but everyone is really upset about doing it, they just know they have no chance against him in final 3. it doesnt matter if senshi is left out of every vote, its senshi so the jury would vote for him anyways. after the votes are read he probably slaps his knee and goes „aww you got me good guys well played!“ without a hint of anger and everybody knows it was the right choice to vote him but they still feel awful. probably hugs everyone and gives them some words of encouragement before leaving. huge fan favorite and gets asked back on multiple seasons but is unfortunately always voted off rather early because hes simply too big of a threat. a messianic figure.

marcille probably hates the island and is only there because falin is. probably good strategically but lets be honest here she would suffer every single day shes on that island. kept in the game through sheer determination to make the merge and see falin again, but is probably voted out not long after, because her and falin are dangerous together and couples always get broken up. fierce falin advocate on ponderosa. falins strongest soldier.

falin is probably just a very strong social player. shes not the most strategic, but is probably brought into votes just due to how likeable she is. senshi also serves as a shield for her threat level, so i can see her making final 3 without having a vote cast against her. probably sweeps the jury, partly because marcille has been campaigning for her on ponderosa, partly because shes just genuinely likeable and people want her to have the money, partly because i cant think of any person potentially sitting next to her that people would rather vote for. just strategic enough that fans dont really have a problem with her win, and nowadays people are more open to social gameplay, plus shes beautiful and a great person so yeah. falin wins because everybody loves her and everybody loves her for winning. marcilles work is done.

itutsumi isnt part of the game shes just kinda hanging out on the island. nobody knows why or what shes doing there but shes laying in the sun and napping. there are probably a few votes for her at the final tribal so there needs to be a revote. you can NOT vote for izutsumi. stop booing

[mors-venus]

long awaited, finally here. thanks for your patience and hope you all enjoy :) part iii coming soon!

part i. part iii. part iv. masterlist

leviathan x idol!reader: part ii

it had been a few months since that afternoon, and it was safe to say you and levi were now best friends :)

you two had a routine — once you were done studying for the day, you’d sit in his room and debrief, talking about everything that you didn’t cover over text, and on friday evenings you watched a new episode of the latest anime together, analyzing and theorizing its contents afterwards.

the two of you were inseparable, and while you were close with (almost) all of the boys, your connection with levi was different.

your time together was filled with fun, laughter, inside jokes, and friendly competition, and levi couldn’t be more grateful for your companionship. but…

no, there was no but, levi had tried convincing himself over and over again. everything was just fine as is. there was nothing else he needed or desired. but there was.

he just didn’t want to admit it to himself, or anyone else.

however, as the days went by, it grew harder and harder to deny it, and every morning and evening when he saw you, it grew harder and harder to keep the words buried.

one day, maybe, but not now… or maybe ever. just this was enough.

except it wasn’t. despite his best attempts, he was the avatar of envy, and every day he craved more and more of your time, of your attention.

and for the most part, he had it. as your best friend, you spent every day together… except for one.

there was one (1) day where you were completely unreachable. (☹️)

saturdays, unfortunately (and inconveniently, because literally everything fun in the devildom happened on saturdays), were declared “you days” by lucifer himself. they had been yours since the day you arrived in the devildom, and would continue to be so until you left.

the other brothers were instructed to leave you be and to not seek you out on saturdays, as, per lucifer, “everyone needed time to themselves,” and this was the one day of the week you could have that. however, you weren’t using them in the way they would’ve expected.

when you first arrived, you deemed lucifer a trustworthy source and told him about your idol status and career back on earth. seeing your predicament, he gave you saturdays to visit earth and practice or perform with the rest of your group, and arranged for one of the empty rooms in the house to be converted into your own private studio for the rest of the week.

he somehow also managed to ensure you received a lighter homework load over the weekend, which you had thanked him endlessly for (and to which he beamed proudly in response, saying it was the least he could do).

this arrangement seemed to work well enough, and allowed for your group to still remain active, even if it wasn’t ideal — it severely hindered your group’s schedule, as you could only promote and perform as a group one day a week, but as far as individual tasks go, you were able to complete most of your own work in the devildom and send it over to your manager back on the surface.

because of this, it became customary for your group to film and prepare content in advance so that when you arrived, you could fill in your parts and get it over to the editing team as quickly as possible.

and of course, it only became natural for you and levi to consume the content together as soon as it dropped on sunday evenings. he’d have everything set up in advance, auto-refreshing his page, and the minute a new stage performance, talk show appearance, miniseries episode, vlog, or live dropped, you were at his door no less than 20 seconds after he pinged you with you guys’ favorite snacks in tow ^^

you both fangirled over everything, levi more than you — especially over vega (you !! unfortunately you weren’t about to out yourself so you had to hide most of your reactions, no matter how flustered you got) — and every so often you’d lean over and whisper a piece of trivia in his ear that even he didn’t know, which was practically impossible because he knew (almost) everything there was to know about galaxea, of course… but you got a pass 😌

and at the end of the night, when he could tell you were sleepy and dozing off on his shoulder, the voice in his head screamed, practically begged him to wrap his arm around you and pull you closer to his side.

he couldn’t help the blush that crept onto his face at the thought, but every time he nudged you awake, murmuring softly in your ear that you both had class the next morning and should head to bed… properly. and every time, you nodded and smiled at him sleepily, raised yourself off his floor and walked to his bedroom door, waving and slurring that you’d see him in the morning. and every time, as soon as you were gone, he sighed and stared at where you once stood, the words he left unsaid stuck in his throat.

and every time… henry looked at him with what appeared to be amusement.

“like you’d know what i’m struggling with,” levi scoffed as he rolled his eyes, shutting off his computer in the process.

“they’re just a friend, is all,” he rationalized, nodding to himself.

“right? we’re friends. that’s it.”

but when he turned to henry, he saw how pathetic he looked as his reflection stared back at him. the glimmer of hope in his eyes was unmistakable even in the dim lighting of his room.

dejected, levi would end the conversation, and his night, by throwing himself into his bathtub, pulling his ruri-chan body pillow close, connecting his headphones, and shuffling his galaxea playlist, huffing in annoyance as he closed his eyes.

and every time, he’d replay his evening with you in his imagination, focusing on every detail of you, the rest of the world fading into the background… just like it did the day he met you.

the way your nose scrunched when you laughed, the contagiousness of your smile, how your eyes sparkled, the way you mouthed along to your favorite lines, your glossy lips, the signature scent of your perfume… all of it had been committed to levi’s memory, and it was those thoughts of you that kept him company during his sleepless nights.

and the next morning, after class, he’d join you in your dance studio, learning galaxea’s newest choreo alongside you or helping you create your own, burying his thoughts from the night before deep in his mind.

for months, this was how you spent your days — until possibly the biggest pop-culture news to have ever dropped shook all of the three realms, and caused levi to start his morning practically screaming in excitement.

in big bold words, the headline said “GALAXEA TOUR ANNOUNCED — A MAJOR SURPRISE TO FANS EVERYWHERE”

did you know? you had to know, of course you did. but what if you didn’t? he had to tell you !!!

and so, the rest of the house of lamentation was awoken to levi yelling your name at the top of his lungs as he practically flew down the hallway on all fours, racing to your bedroom.

he could care less about the yells of annoyance and curses directed at him from his brothers as he made haste, skidding to a stop in front of your door.

he knocked with so much force he almost broke it, wincing at the splinters sticking out of his knuckles, but this was more important.

“y/n! y/n !!! y/n, come on, it’s urgent!”

he took a step back as you slowly opened your door, yawning as you rubbed your eyes, your bed head evident.

“levi, my alarm doesn’t go off for another half hour, couldn’t it have waited—“

“GALAXEAISGOINGONTOURAREYOUHEARINGMEGALAXEAISGOINGONTOURANDTHEY’REPERFOEMINGINTHEDEVILDOMOHMYGOD”

you blinked at him, your mouth slightly agape as he rapidly listed off the tour dates and when the ticket pre-sale would begin, but you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face, or the way your heart beamed at his excitement.

he looked so happy, and as he grasped your hands in his to jump up and down giddily, the reality of the situation hit you.

your band, galaxea, the biggest in all of the realms, was going on tour. how were you going to attend the concert with levi while performing on stage as vega, his bias?

even with all the magic at your disposal, there’s no way you could do both. you were going to have to make a choice, and your decision would permanently alter the course of your life.

were you going to attend with levi and disappoint millions of your fans, potentially harming your career? or disappoint levi by abandoning him and performing on stage?

and when levi looked at you with nothing but joy, his big eyes brimming with anticipation, your decision was made.

you were a terrible friend. but he would understand one day… right?

[wainwrightjakobshammerlock]

HIIIIHIIIIHIIII. Started reading the alivemanor commentary edition bc i HAVE NOT forgotten i just have a brain made of jelly. i think im going to be doing these two at a time for the formatting differences (typing as i read). i knew of myhouse.wad before going through alivemanor and i hadddd to have another look while reading. a lot the talk of it and house of leaves (and just alivemanor in general) kind of reminds me of the old slenderman args i used to be obsessed with as a kid. i wasn't quite old enough at the time to be involved in the actual arg portions of the series and i dont think they hold up as well now but. still. i noticed it as i was reading but having all of the small points of repetition pointed out is v cool. theres so much thought put into every little piece, its so fascinating to be able to see all of the parts. and all the references i missed, too! lots of religious and mythological things i didnt get my first time around. ur brain is massive giggled at big bill wharton. thats it thats the full thought its perfect. oletta and butcher rose being (not so)distant relatives of wainwright and angel,,,i cant think of it too long i cannot. i wish my borderlands 3 wasnt so busted atm ive been wanting to do another playthrough, especially to see the dlcs…ive only played through them once before in co-op so i didnt focus all that much on everything going on. small note but as a resident feet in the grass bugs guy the description of the spinswath has very much endeared me to the little things. wish they were real. and still wishing we got more eden-6 wildlife than the fucking monkeys and dinosaurs. a spat however sounds hellish. but yeah! i looove seeing the behind the scenes thoughts behind this, and im also going to get to the chapter of jfv you sent me over discord as well. at any time youre allowed to remind me btw i will not get annoyed with you!! its just hard to make myself sit down and read and sometimes i forget

[lactating]

SB has begun corresponding with NG! SB: hi girlie the dragon's trucks got slowed so i got a free minute to spare check out this edit i made of my box of evil light SB sent an attachment: troxler_fancam.png is it possible to have strange attachments to strange objects scratch that i know how you feel about your magic wand whats up with you NG: oh my dearly belabored ally how i have missed you in these few short hours apart! NG: the dragon keeps us from hanging out forever NG: i really like the box of evil light; youre out there helping turn the world hard and fast but not firm and pleasant SB: country girls & corn latly ive been thinking about like Okay what else can you apply the Fourier transform to a fellow engineer i mentioned SB's and NG's, et al.'s, Special Idea about the Nature of the Universe and the Matter of Fourier Transforms Okay thats a half truth i just asked him about the fourier transform and he said "oh like in sound engineering and videography" and in that moment i realized just how many standard deviations away from the norm i am i wonder if you could plot our standard deviation-ness on a graph and plot it and then do the fourier transform on that and reverse-engineer NG: im a fan of reverse-engineering, myself like the nature of our abnormality vís a vís ideas and their special-ness NG: you could call it a skill and give it a silly name like "MAN WHO THINKS CRIME IS FUNNY-O-METER" or the more tasteful "GIDDINESS MATRIX" or the slightly more correct "PATTERN SPOTTING ABILITY THAT HAS BEEN TAKEN TO PERHAPS A MORE LOGICAL EXTREME THEN IS APT, HOWEVER I'M THE NAME OF A SKILL, YOU DO WHATEVER YOU WANT FOREVER" SB: call it the scholars ambition the curious acquisition the derangement-tion the derangnemition? the degranmitomiton? NG: casting a spell of lunacy upon you from my derangmitomiton MAY YOU ALWAYS SEE THE PATTERN, MAY YOU NEVER BE ABLE TO COMMIUNICATE IT SB: not my G19 ass seeing the pattern and then using the fourier transform on the pattern to make quick and soundly logical intuitions on the nature of whatever the pattern appears to me to be that day sometimes i point out the taxonomy of clouds to the dragon-workers they seem to like it every one in fifteen will get a childish, like genuinely child like wonder at suddenly having the name of something hes seen for so long reveled to him in an instant, like when you realize the world is so vast and you've been getting ever so smaller within it, but then BOO! you're shattered, taken outside yourself from a strange looking fellow wielding a box of radiation that you're slightly jealous about watching having to do so little work while you sit, in the dragons' stomach, surrounded by three hundreds of degrees of asphalt NG: boo! and suddenly, you're real! suddenly you realize that you work for these long hours because you don't know what else to do with yourself, you realize you're scared and you let someone else tell you where and how to point your athame, and suddenly all you really want to do is lie on a hillside and watch clouds and slowly learn all of their names, so you can say "hello cumulus! hello cirrus!" and have them wave back at your, in their own silly little cloudy way.

#65: keep corresponding >

[youredreamingofroo]

Ya'll... I think I might start a new story, I have a... basic concept of what I want it to be like, and I already have a name (under the impression that I don't suddenly do a 180), I just need to do like... all the writing and make the characters LMFAO It's gonna be a little on the dreary side and dark (which is the kind of writing/genre i aspire to write about, also means I'm gonna have to redo my personal reshade that ive been cooking for like... 3 or 4 months... 😭)-

in the meantime, I might start working on gussying up my navi post (and by gussy up, i mean completely redo) because as nice as it is, it's, idk, a little outdated (i guess), I have an idea for a new theme except i'm either going to a) put it in the drafts and wait til I start the new story to post it so the info is all there or b) make it and then post it and when i start the new story, edit it and put the tags and stuff in for the story.

ALSO might do a name change cuz... this name came from WAYYY before i joined simblr, and its got a charm to it, but i dont rlly like it anymore,, it just dont sit with me the same way that it used to lmao

*(writing this after i posted cuz i forgot to say this - its under the cut and in regards to NSB with the new story - it also kinda turned into a rant lmfao) TL:DR for ppl who don't wanna read my stupid fucking rant: NSB is prob gonna go on a hiatus regardless of if i start a new story, cuz as much as I love it, it's started to feel like a chore and less of smth i enjoy (even tho, like I said, I rlly enjoy/love it) Sorry to my NSB enjoyers out there.

regarding NSB, yes it will probably go on hiatus when making this story bec writing is already kinda exhausting for me as well as editing and NSB has progressively became more and more story-driven than gameplay-driven, and especially after these three days, im kinda burnt out from NSB, i know i just left it off on a cliffhanger with the new baby, but to be honest, I don't wanna deal with another child, i barely get by dealing with the four, and dealing with toddlers> are so fucking annoying cuz of the Sim AI, which in and of itself is just demotivating, i do REALLY love not so berry, i love the story ive created with it, but i guess im just tired of playing the same generation for so long, not to mention the fact that i made it a rags to riches challenge, i know i didnt have to but i prefer to, and bc of that, i havent been able to properly decorate, and i dont really wanna go back on myself, if i decide to continue NSB, i will probably take the RTR rules away since its so annoying to deal with having like, 1000 simoleans all the damn time. Also, i've been planning what to do for generation 3 since catty gave birth, but i had to put NSB on a hiatus bc of a stupid glitch and was only recently able to start it up again, and I still havent moved onto the next gen. I kinda lost the plot with that rant, but basically, NSB will probably go on hiatus, regardless of the new story, I've been wanting to dwell more on Roo and his whole story and the people in his universe and after a bit, NSB has started to, as much as I love it and the storytelling and whatever, feel like a chore, which kinda hurts to say, but its true. Sorry to any of my not so berry enjoyers out there

[scepterno]

hi its me again ..

sorry to bother, just wanted to ask if you have any tips on how to start off a fic.. i have an idea ive been sitting on for ages and i have so much planned but i just... can't start it!! how did you start an insulting indifference...

oh man.... im so ass at giving advice.... but thank you for asking anyways! let's see.... this got long so im placing a read more

the way i write is very based on improvisation. i either go into a fic with a very very broad idea of what i want to accomplish, and let the story take me wherever it wants. if i think of something randomly that i want to write, then i go to the bottom of my word document and pound out about two to three sentences IN the moment or scene, just to set the tone. i typically end up hoarding about 3 or so pages of disconnected story moments or character dialogue. by doing this, i can also foreshadow events or make parallels that span across several chapters in the story.

work OUT OF ORDER!!! its fun!!! it keeps it exciting!!! there was one fic i wrote where the last chapter was the first ever thing i wrote for it, and so i had a better picture in my mind about how the entire thing would GENERALLY play out. i like to leave the details in the moment, which is where the improv aspect comes in. if you let yourself ride the tide of the story, you wont have to force it in certain directions as much. sometimes you have to correct its course, but mostly youre there to cruise along with the story thats coming to life!

think of it like... a bunch of big dots. and these dots are all connecting by lines. like a big web. everything in the dots are BIG STORY BEATS, and the lines are the exposition between them. the lines don't have to be straight, either. they can have loops, or wiggles, or tiny tiny dots of their own. it may not be as exciting as the HUGE dots, but its still necessary. then again, maybe it isnt! dont feel like writing a scene? skip it! trust in your readers' abilities to make inferences based on all the other context clues you give them in the text.

as you can see, i suck at giving advice HAHA. my brain is.... not very good at sorting the chaos into something tangible for others to understand.

if you have an idea, just run with it! write for the sake of writing SOMETHING. anything is a good starting point. ANYTHING. you can always go back and edit it later. write what you DONT want to write so you can get to the stuff you DO want to write.

)--)o

i would also recommend never deleting stuff youve written. if you write a scene that you end up hating, cut and paste it into a separate document just for safe keeping. it might come in handy down the line, even if you never actually USE it. you might be able to look back on it and REALIZE what does and doesnt work about it, which will improve your tone and general skills for OTHER stuff you're going to write in the future.

and one of my favorite things to do in a story when im stuck is STEP OUT OF MY BOX. especially if youre writing from a single character POV. we've been following the story of a single person, but every single other character they interact with has been going through a fanfic of their own. what is happening to them? what are they saying? being told? experiencing? what would cause them to change their mind about something suddenly? or act irrationally? the best part about writing for humans is that they're flawed. all of them. so we can write them making mistakes and doing stupid things. it helps push the plot along. it creates conflict, WHICH IS INTERESTING. we love conflict.

find something you want to write about in a fic, then expand the world around it. when i started an insulting indifference, my goal was to write about Alejandro's trauma, Noah's mental health, and have them experiencing healing by mending their relationship with not only each other, but the world and people around them. and then it grew from there!!!!!!!!!

ok im done

i talked WAAAY too much about utter nonsense. i hope at least 5% of this was helpful to you. LOL!! thank you again for the ask!!!!