#okay pls enjoy
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔, 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓— f!reader x captain rex. 13.5. ao3
you get the date you were hoping for, not the date you were expecting. previous. masterlist.
It’s been thirty minutes. The waitress has passed your table apologetically three times, topping off your wine instead of waiting for the glass to empty. You shake your hair back, out of your face, though you think it might serve better to cover it up– there are tears of shame churning in the back of your throat.
Another sip of wine. Maybe you should just order fries.
Another sip of wine. If they aren’t coming, you should just order fries.
Another sip of wine. Celeste’s house isn’t far. You could wear this outfit out to a bar. You should wear this outfit out, you look nice and approachable. At least you think so. Just girlish enough for a first date. Just womanly enough to show that you’re a true marriage prospect.
Don’t want to scare anyone off. You’re good at scaring people off.
You don’t even want to get married.
You pick unseen lint off your dress.
Behind you, the door jingles. Again. You turn around to see if maybe it’s your date. You can hear Jolie’s voice in your head: “He’s attractive! Red hair, tall. You can’t miss him.” He’d been talked up quite a bit, and with each passing second, the built up image was lowering. The once reputable businessman was now a college boy with one pillow on his bed.
It’s two men who enter.
Both faces are familiar.
You make eye contact with the most familiar of the two. Amber eyes widen in surprise, just as yours do.
Rex looks handsome, just as handsome as he was the last time you saw him. There’s a cut over his eyebrow currently, which has a few pieces of medical tape on it. His hair is cut so short it’s barely there, as if it’s freshly done.
Quickly, you return back around.
This is embarrassing. Your heart thrums away in your chest.
Another sip of wine.
“Table for two?” A server asks, coming over to Rex and Fives.
Fives waits for Rex to respond for them, like he normally would. However, when he looks over, he finds his brother focused on other things. Other things: a pretty woman with her back to them, wine glass to glossy lips.
Weird.
“We’ve got an order for pickup,” Fives says. “Under Skywalker.”
“Oh!” The server nods. “I’ll be right back. The kitchen just finished up.”
She turns and leaves, just as you catch one or glance over your shoulder. Fives nudges Rex with his shoulder.
“You feeling okay, captain?” Fives asks.
Rex clears his throat, looking over at the other man. “What?”
Fives leans in, keeping his eyes trained on glossy hair and exposed shoulders. “Think she likes you,” Fives whispers, though it’s Fives, so it’s not much of a whisper.
“Drop it,” Rex mutters. His mind moves a million miles per second. What is the likelihood that he’s running into you again. His heart skips a beat when he remembers both of your prior encounters. Shame fills the tips of his ears when he remembers how often his daydreaming had fluttered out of control.
The hum on Fives’s lips is brotherly at best. Teasing at worst. “Maybe she was looking at me.”
“I said drop it, Fives,” Rex repeats. He reaches into his pocket for the credits they’d been sent with.
“Maybe I’ll go say something to her,” Fives presses. He won’t, but it still rubs Rex the wrong way.
“She’s…” Rex’s voice trails off. His original statement: She’s clearly here with someone doesn’t seem too true. There are three glasses on the table: two waters and a wine glass that rests in your hand. And one of the waters was full, with a thick puddle of condensation around it.
The server returns with four large brown bags of food.
“Here you go!” She says cheerly, handing them over to Fives.
Rex pays her. Both he and Fives get back onto the street, before Rex hesitates.
“What is it?” Fives asks.
“I’ve got– I’ll meet you back at the ship,” Rex says.
Fives squints at Rex. “If you gotta piss, I’ll wait for you.”
“No, I– It’s a long story,” Rex says. “I’ll meet you back at the ship.”
The door jingles again. Once more, you look back over your shoulder. It’s deja vu– Your eyes widen again, surprised upon seeing Rex again.
The server comes over to him. “Did we forget something?”
“Oh, no, it’s, I just…” Rex gestures vaguely over to you.
“Oh!” The server's eyes light up. “Oh, she’s going to be so excited you’re here.”
Rex thinks she’s got him confused with someone else. (She does. He’d never have you waiting for him.)
She leads Rex over to your table, a beaming smile on her face. “Guess who’s here!”
You look up at Rex, lips round in surprise.
“Rex,” you say.
He returns your name. There’s a moment of hesitation, where the server’s eyes bounce between the two of you, expectant.
After a beat, Rex takes the seat across from you.
“What are you doing here?” You both ask at the same time. Then: “You first.”
You laugh softly at it. The ridiculousness of the situation.
Another sip of wine.
“I’m supposed to be on a date,” you admit. “With a tall, redheaded man.”
Rex’s eyes widen. He places his hands on the table as if to stand. “Oh, I’ll go.”
“He hasn’t shown up in…” you look at the analog watch on your wrist. “Thirty-three minutes. I don’t think he’s coming.”
Rex doesn’t know who in their right mind would stand you up. “He must be insane.”
You can’t help the fluttering eye roll that follows. “I think I’m the insane one for waiting this long. What are you doing here?”
“This is one of my general’s favorite restaurants,” Rex replies. “He got us all dinner tonight.”
“He’s got good taste,” you say.
The server comes back, this time addressing Rex. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Oh, I’m not–” “We need just a moment longer.”
“Of course.”
The server leaves you two alone again.
You and Rex stare at each other.
“Do you have to get back to…” you trail off, not knowing exactly where Rex needs to get back to. All you know is that he has to get back somewhere.
“I’ll catch up later,” Rex says, brushing it off. “I felt– It felt like it would have been a crime to not come and say anything to you.”
“Don’t exactly need you to call me when you’re going to be in town if I’m going to run into you everytime, do I?” You ask, leaning forwards on the table. “Would have been nice to know, though. Then I wouldn’t have scheduled this tonight.”
Had you not scheduled this tonight, you wouldn’t have seen Rex. Instead, you’d have been at a friends house, or at a bar, or in your own apartment. You don’t let yourself linger with that for too long.
“Wouldn’t have seen you otherwise,” Rex says. “Um. Force works in mysterious ways and all that.”
You can’t help but giggle at that. “It does, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Rex agrees, his smile caused by your own.
“They have good beers here,” you say. “If you’re going to get something.”
Rex feels torn. He would love to stay with you, have a meal, have a drink or two, end the evening however it ends. Maybe in the way it always seems to. However. He can’t just go AWOL on his brothers like this.
Rex searches your eyes. You blink slowly at him. He swears you might be the prettiest thing he’s ever seen in his life.
“Give me a second,” Rex says. He leans back in the chair, reaching into the pocket of his pants. He produces a small comm chip, and glances over at you. Already, he’s explaining himself. “It’s military.”
“It’s fine.”
Rex doesn’t think it is. He should call you. Your number is in his quarters.
He presses the button on it, illuminating it green. “Hey, this is Rex. I’m going to be late coming back.”
“Morning,” you mouth at him.
“I’ll be back in the morning,” Rex relays.
“Rex?” Rex takes a deep breath, recognizing the familiar tone of General Skywalker’s voice. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good. I’ll be back in the morning by O-800.”
“Ten?” You mouth, trying your luck.
Rex smiles, his eyes crinkling as he shakes his head. There’s a beat of silence.
When Anakin speaks next, there’s a smile on his voice. “Got it. See you in the morning.”
Rex slips the communication device back in his pocket. In his mind’s eye, the scene back at the ship is clear. There’s whatever story Fives has concocted, mixing with the general’s knowledge of the recent slips in Rex’s concentration. He diverts his full attention to you. There’s no need to focus on that.
“The beers here are good,” you repeat, sliding the drink menu over to him by the pads of your fingers.
Rex accepts it, glancing over the menu.
“Do you come here often?” Rex asks.
Nostalgia pulls at your heart. The first time Rex has asked you that it had seemed so accidental. “I’ve been known to spend an evening or two here.”
“So you know what’s good?”
You nod. “How hungry are you?”
Truthfully, Rex was prepared to demolish everything that had been bought for him. Pasta, salad, bread, soup. In that order, too. He thinks there was dessert ordered as well.
“Hungry,” Rex decides on.
“We can get a couple of things to share.”
There’s a crisp beer in front of Rex, along with a fresh glass of water. In front of you, your wine glass has been refilled, and you’re certainly beginning to feel it, especially as you order. Your accent slips out as you point along the menu, eventually getting to one of the dishes and glancing over at Rex.
“You don’t have any dietary anything, do you?”
Rex shakes his head.
You continue ordering.
Rex’s gaze remains fixed on your profile, the way you glance from the menu to the server and nod along with her as you order. Your earrings bobble with you, and your hair moves too. The bracelet on your wrist delicately hangs while you point, and Rex can’t help but be painfully reminded of how well his hand had fit around your wrist, how it had slid up to hold your hand, how–
The menus are cleared.
Your legs slide out to rest your ankle against the side of Rex’s leg.
“Can you tell me why you’re on Naboo again?” You inquire.
Rex takes a sip of his beer. It is good. Crisp. Refreshing. “Let me think about it.”
Another sip of beer.
Another sip of wine.
“There’s a meeting happening,” Rex says. “That’s about all I can say, though.”
“We’re kind of having our own meeting,” you note.
“Are we?”
You nod. “Just two people, sharing dinner and drinks…”
“Is that all?” Rex asks. He leans forward to join your posture.
You nod. Then, you shake your head, hand coming up to play with your necklace and the little charm on it. “Maybe not. Not later.”
Rex’s gaze dips to follow your fingers and dutifully returns to your face.
“You blowing off your friends for me?”
“I’m not blowing them off…” Rex trails off. Your lashes are longer than they were last time he saw you. “I see them everyday.”
“Am I better company?”
“You are,” Rex agrees. Breath of fresh air. “What have you been up to?”
Humming, you swirl the wine around in your glass. “Getting stood up on dates.”
Rex shakes his head. He repeats his prior point: “That’s absolutely insane to me. Who would do that?”
You gesture to the restaurant with your hand. “Our example isn’t here to defend himself. But I agree.”
The first dish appears. It’s hummus with vegetables and bread. The hummus has a swirl of olive oil and roasted red peppers in the center.
“You have to actually eat this time. None of that ‘it’s too good’ bullshit,” you say. “The olive oil here is really good, I think you’ll like it.”
You’re right, of course. It’s creamy and delicious, melting away on his tongue. A hint of lemon, a citrus unlay to the warmth of the chickpea.
“Can I try your beer?” You ask, dancing your fingers along the table towards the beverage. “You can try my wine.”
“Sure,” Rex says, pushing the drink over to you.
A sip of beer. A sip of wine.
“You reading anything right now?” you ask.
“I am, actually. It’s about this girl who tames dragons.”
You pause. That is not what you expected. “Really?”
Rex nods. He drags his finger over the table as he talks, as if to keep him on track with the plot. “The main character is named Lessa, and she’s this princess who’s entire family’s been killed, but she’s survived by disguising herself as a servant. The only thing is that the dragons in Pern, where the story takes place, speak telepathically with the members of the royal family which is how they were tamed. When I left off, a dragon had gone crazy and Lessa had exposed herself as being part of the royal family by riding it.”
You blink at him. “What happened to your books on military strategy?”
“Needed an escape,” Rex replies.
You hum softly. “What’s it called? The book.”
“Dragonflight,” Rex says, dipping a cut of pita into the hummus. “It’s good.”
“It sounds like it,” you say. “How’d you find it?”
“Uh,” Rex hesitates. “The princess of Pantora recommended it.”
You raise your eyebrows. “That’s a pretty high caliber recommendation.”
Rex chuckles at that, “Yeah… It was in passing, but I wanted to check it out.”
“I suppose you can’t tell me what you were doing in the presence of a princess?”
Rex takes a drink of beer. “Honestly, I was thinking about you.”
“About me?” You ask.
Rex nods. A faint blush flushes on his ears. You bite your bottom lip, halting the smile from forming.
“You’re sweet,” you say.
Rex disagrees. You’re the sweet one, in his eyes. Rex is simply lucky to have caught your attention so many times.
You take a bite of an olive.
“Unfortunately, I don’t have the ability to telepathically communicate with dragons.”
Rex chuckles. “I would have been more impressed if you did.”
“Already impressed?”
“Yeah.”
It’s flattering to hear. After all, you’re no more than a simple girl who looks at art all day.
“Well.” You swirl your wine around for a moment before taking a sip of it. “I’m thinking about picking up a new hobby.”
How lovely. Rex has no hobbies— unless one was to count sitting around and making battle strategies hobbies. Or if one was to consider that his excellent deflecting skills were a hobby.
“What are you thinking about?” Rex asks.
“Bird watching,” you say. “The new intern we just got is really into it, and he’s got these really amazing sketches of the birds he sees. Apparently his parents just took him on this week long hiking trip to let him see some of the birds in the jungle, which seems so… Cool. I don’t know, I’m jealous of some twenty year old for having such an in depth hobby.”
“I don’t see many birds,” Rex says. Birds don’t like war. They run from the large sounds. Scamper at the first smell of violence.
“I’ll have to show you all the sketches I do, then.”
“No pictures?”
You pause. You hadn’t even thought of that— though it was probably the best option. Fastest, too.
“I could do that,” you say.
“But drawing is different,” Rex finishes for you.
“But drawing is different,” you agree with him.
Rex takes a bite of some of the food before the two of you. “Bird watching seems cool.”
“Does it? I’ve honestly always considered it an old person hobby.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Rex reminds you. “As far as I’m concerned, bird watching is a hobby young, beautiful women pick up.”
Your laugh is mostly a giggle. There’s a flirtatious roll of your wrist as you toss your hair back over your shoulder.
“You’re good,” you say, still smiling. “Maybe tonight when you come over I’ll show you some of the books I bought. And you can see my binoculars.”
A little smile crosses Rex’s features. “It sounds like you’ve been doing more than just thinking about it.”
“Well, maybe so.” Your face is warm. “I don’t know, I’ve just been really into them lately. Maybe one day I’ll get to go to Endor and see all the birds there. I’ve been watching this docu-series about Endor’s moon and all the life there…”
There was a mission planned to go to Endor’s moon and scout it out. Despite its sanctuary status, there have been encrypted radio transmissions coming from the little blip of life.
Rex doesn’t mention that. After all, you don’t like space travel.
Then, the reason why the mission hasn’t happened yet comes to mind:
“Isn’t there a black hole by Endor?” He asks.
You hum, lifting your eyebrows. “Is there?”
“Uh, I think so.” Rex lifts his hand to rub the back of his neck for a moment. “Yeah, I think so.”
Sighing, you pluck a bite off one of the plates. “Maybe by the time I’ve conquered my fear of hyperdrive, they’ll have sorted out the black hole.” An involuntary shudder shakes down your spine. “Ugh! Those freak me out too. I don’t know how you do it… I know space travel is safe and all but it just doesn’t seem right.”
Rex admires you, as you go on your little tirade about the freak nature of space travel. You look really pretty tonight. Printed dress, hair all nice and cascading down your back. Lips still glossy. He wonders if it tastes like anything.
Your lips aren’t moving anymore. Rex blinks, drawing his attention back to your eyes. They sparkle, in the pupil and on the lid.
“Huh?” How graceful of him.
“What are you thinking about?” You ask him. “I lost you.”
The tips of Rex’s ears turn pink. He exhales. “Just, um, wondering. About your lips.”
You raise your eyebrows. “Should we leave?”
Rex glances down at the plates in front of you. You both have made good work on them, and only a few bites remain. He’s full enough.
“I think we should go,” you answer for him. You look around for your waitress, and as soon as you make eye contact she’s walking over.
Looking over at Rex, you ask: “What kind of pasta were you going to have?”
“What? Oh, um, I’m full,” Rex says.
“Are you? It’s for later,” you hum.
“I don’t need any,” Rex insists.
You don’t buy it. You order two pastas for takeaway, then ask for the bill. Turning back to Rex, you smile softly. “I’ll be hungry in a few hours. I don’t want to eat by myself.”
Rex nods.
“And you should eat too,” you tack on. “After all, I don’t want to deprive you of pasta from here.”
“You’re not depriving me of anything,” Rex assures you.
Brown bags are placed on the table and you hand over credits to the waitress without looking at the check. Rex recognizes these brown bags, they’re stamped with the same logo as the one you were holding when he saw you last.
The guilt of the secret eats him up inside, but he doesn’t say anything. That’s an ugly truth he doesn’t want to admit to you yet. One of many, one of many that he’s begun second guessing. He doesn’t need to worry you with it. He doesn’t.
You stand, then immediately take hold of your chair for balance. A little giggle slips through your lips, loosened by the alcohol and lightly covered by a hand.
Rex takes the bags and comes to your side. You exchange the chair for his arm, wrapping around his bicep.
“I didn’t think I had a lot to drink when I was sitting down… but now that I’m standing up… Oh my goodness…” You flutter your lashes up at Rex. “Help me walk home?”
“Want to do nothing more,” Rex says. You squeeze his bicep and hum, the two of you walking out of the restaurant. Immediately, a wash of humidity engulfs the two of you.
“It’s kind of a long walk home,” you say, apologizing without vocalizing it.
“That’s alright,” Rex says.
“It got gross out… It wasn’t like this when I left.” You stop in your tracks to pull a clip out of your purse, swooping it off your neck. Rex watches with rapt attention.
“It’s going to be the rainy season soon, isn’t it?” Rex asks.
You nod, reattaching yourself to Rex. “How’d you know?”
Rex shrugs. “Sometimes I know things.”
The comment causes both of you to laugh. You squeeze his bicep, rest your head on his shoulder momentarily.
On the walk home, you point out various parts of this neighborhood you occasionally drop by. Point out where Misha lives, a bakery you like, a park where you threw up after going to… that bar. Rex is an eager and willing audience for your tales.
The inside of your apartment isn’t any different from how Rex last saw it. There’s still the warmth, from all the lamps and warm colors sloshed about. It's humid, though. Sticky air. Thick air.
To you, it’s a nightmare. It's just as stale inside as it is outside. The humidity seems to have soaked into the walls. It’s bad this year. It’s been bad ever since the Trade Federation attacked, and all of the electric balls were released and the machines walked the plains.
“I have some fans,” you say, taking off your shoes. “Let me get them set up…”
You pop fans in your windows and turn them on, Rex following behind you the entire time. You turn on your dehumidifier in your bedroom, so by the time the two of you retired for the evening, the air would be somewhat dry. With the food in the fridge and cool glasses of water, you end up in your bedroom, where you look over at him in his long sleeves.
“Do you want to take that off?” You ask, already taking out your heavy earrings. You haven’t known Rex long at all, only having met him twice, but you feel like you’d known him a lifetime. To the point where you’re debating just taking off your makeup now.
Rex looks down at it, running a hand over his chest. “Uh, it’s fine. Made out of some fancy material that keeps you cool.”
Nodding, your jewelry collects in a bowl on your vanity. “I’m changing, my dress is stuck to me. So if you want to change, you can.”
You begin to reach behind you to slide down the zipper, but pause and look over at him.
“Come help,” you instruct.
Rex’s fingers are large against your delicate zipper. Slowly, he brings the metal down, revealing the strap of your bra and the expanse of your back. There’s a sheen of sweat there too, that was making the dress cling, that he has to fight to not lick off.
Rex is invited to watch as you change into cooler clothes. He sits on the ottoman at the foot of your bed, with his ankle crossed over his knee, attention raptured by you. You peel your sticky breasts off your nipples, shielding the, quite horrifying, removal from Rex by turning your back to him. He watches through the reflection in the mirror. He watches as you pull on a white tank top, and shorts, watches your nipples through the thin fabric.
It’s hot as can be. You keep your hair clipped up off your neck, and then finally turn your attention back to Rex. He straightens up as soon as he’s caught your attention again.
You smile at him, coming to stand in front of him. He spreads his legs for you to stand between them. “Watching?” You cup his jaw in your hand.
“If you don’t mind,” Rex says, tilting his head back to meet your eyes.
“I don’t mind,” you say, “It’s encouraged.”
Rex wets his bottom lip. Slowly, you lower yourself to sit on his lap. One hand snakes down to the hem of his shirt, gently lifting it up. Your hand slides under his shirt to slide across his stomach.
“What can I do to convince you to take off your shirt?” You hum.
His hand slides from your thigh to your waist, then to your lower back. “Maybe a kiss,” he admits, selfishly.
You smile, soft and glossy. Slowly, you lean in to press your lips against him. Rex is immediately engulfed by the comfort of your perfume, whole and warm, and the softness of your lips, coconut and wet. His tongue slides out, chasing after the taste of you, savoring it on his tongue.
The pull away is just as slow as the connection was. You press one last peck to his lips, leaving them glossy. Rex’s gaze holds yours. With a little smile, you reach and swipe the gloss away from Rex’s lip.
“Sorry,” you whisper.
“‘S a gift,” Rex whispers.
His flattery brings a smile to your face. Rex’s hands reach to the back of his shirt, and pulls it over his head. With his chest exposed, you run your hand across it, pleased with the new expanse.
What a lucky lady you are.
“We should have some dessert,” you say, standing up. Rex’s hands slip off your body, slow like honey.
Immediately, Rex is thinking of all the desserts he could have. It embarrasses him, turning his ears pink. Your fingers dance over, thumbing over the warm shell.
“I was thinking about gelato,” you say through a smile. “But we can have all sorts of desserts after.”
“I wasn’t–”
He’s cut off by your smile, by the way you take his hand in yours and give him a little tug, encouraging him to stand up.
“Just a little gelato first,” you murmur, standing on your toes and kiss his chin, just to satisfy your need to play house.
On the couch, you and Rex share gelato straight from the container. It’s almost empty anyways, there’s just enough for the two of you to finish off and satisfy your sweet tooth.
Suddenly excited, you remember what you had promised Rex over dinner. “Oh! Let me show you the books I got!”
Taking one more bite of gelato, you leave the spoon in the container and stand, heading back towards the kitchen for the books. They’re in a perfect little stack, by the flowers that you need to replace. You plop back down beside Rex, making sure to keep your knee touching his thigh, and pick up the first book.
“So, this one is just on birdwatching. It’s by this professor of ornithology in Coruscant. What to wear, how to position yourself downwind so you don’t frighten them. I think it’s very interesting that no matter where you really go in the galaxy, birdwatching has these stagnant parts of it that are universal, y’know?”
Rex thinks for a moment. You seem to be waiting for his response.
“It’s comforting,” Rex says. “Things are the same in some places, no matter how… No matter how strange and different it is.”
“Are there birds on your home planet?” You ask.
“Nah. Whole planet is an ocean. There are some flying fish, but… No birds. No feathers.” Rex sets the gelato on the table as you’re talking. He stretches his arm along the backside of your couch, watching as you hold each book up for him to look at. They’re real books too, printed on paper and not just on a data pad.
“Are you amphibious?”
Rex chuckles. “No.” He wants to change the topic as quickly as possible, so looking over your lap he points at the next book. “What is this one about?”
You drop the topic, placing the first book on the coffee table and picking up the second one. “This one kind of goes with the next one…” So you pick up the other and hold both of them in your hands. Tapping the first one with the second, you carry on, “This one is just about Naboo’s wildlife in general. Flora, fauna, the works. I read the part on birds, and I figure I’ll get to the rest of it later, but I’m really only interested with the birds…” You set the book down on the table.
“Actually, I’ve met the author of these books, ‘cause they’re written by the same professor. Thandor Kryn. We were at this– You know what, it’s not important,” you brush that off. “Anyways, he wrote a book just on birds and I picked it up. It’s really interesting, because he has all these parts of the book that basically come to life. Technology scares me but this is just cool…”
Opening up the book, it illuminates into a hologram. You flip through, and are able to select certain parts that have bird calls in them, along with directions on how to recreate them yourself.
“It makes me a little sad that I couldn’t get a paper copy of the book, but I get why.” You shut the book and set it on the table. Selecting the last one, you adjust yourself on the couch. “This one is my favorite. So before I read this book, I had never heard of Endor, right? But then I read this book… And oh my goodness, hearing about all the birds and everything was mind blowing. Like there are so many kinds, and look, look at these pages.”
You open the book and show off the glossy pages and the full color images.
“This is my favorite bird out of the book,” you say, pointing at one. Already, the book is creased to fall open at this page. Your focus is on the little image. “This is called the humming peeper. They’re found in little families and come out during the afternoon, and are often found to put people to sleep. They’re more like trickster spirits, right? Coming out and putting people to sleep and leaving them vulnerable. But they’re also known to take away nightmares and give good nights of sleep to those that feed them and take care of them. Anyways, this author has other books that are about Endor as a whole, and I went ahead and bought the digital copies. Which aren’t as great, because I don’t want to be taking my reader into the bathtub or anything, but it’s fine. It’ll get the job done.”
“This is pretty cool,” Rex says, looking from the pages to you. “You said you got binoculars?”
“Oh! I did,” you stand, and a pang of regret shoots through Rex that you’re no longer sitting beside him. You pluck a container from your bookshelf and bring it over, showing it to him. “Binoculars.”
Opening up the container, Rex is met with a pair of binoculars he’s relatively experienced with. There’s a similar model in his helmet. The generals have some like this.
“These are nice,” Rex says, a little surprised.
“I might have gone overboard buying them,” you say, twirling a strand of hair around your finger.
“You know how to use them?” He asks.
“I read the manual,” you say. “Why, are you offering to teach me?”
Rex smiles softly. “Maybe. Would you take me up on it?”
“Of course. I’d be a fool not to.”
Rex sets the binoculars on the table and extends his arm along the back of the couch again. You pull your knees up to your chest and rest your head against his forearm.
“Maybe when the war is done, you can come birdwatching with me.”
Rex swallows. He doesn’t think the war will be done in his lifetime. Struck down by battle or not.
He doesn’t mention this. Instead, he smiles softly at you. “Maybe.”
“I think it would be fun,” you say, all gentle through your lashes. “You deserve a little fun.”
“I’m having fun right now,” Rex says. He adjusts so one of his legs is bent on the couch and he’s fully facing you.
“Yeah?”
Rex nods. He holds your gaze in such a way it makes you warm under the lack of scrutiny. He’s truly gazing, brown eyes like melted amber, like dark maple syrup in the sunlight.
“Do you get scared?” You ask suddenly. Quietly.
Rex blinks at the abruptness of the question. “What?”
“Like… you must see so much violence. Do you get scared?”
Rex is quiet for a moment. He drops his gaze down to his lap for a moment before back to you. “Yeah. But not in the moment… It’s after. When I’m processing everything. Like that first moment of quiet.”
You nod. “I don’t know why I asked that, that’s so personal. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” Rex says.
You bring your hand up to rest your hand on his forearm, right in front of your face by Rex’s elbow. “I just have so many questions.”
“Really?” Normally no one has questions for him. For any clone.
“Yeah,” you say. You rub your hand up to his bicep before back down. You look from your hand back to him. “What do you do for fun?”
“Like during downtime?”
You nod.
Rex has to think for a moment. “I like watching documentaries by myself.”
“What kinds?”
“Nature… It feels nice while in space. ‘Cause it’s so quiet.”
“I think it’s human to want to be around nature,” you comment. “You think we’ve watched the same ones?”
“Maybe.” There are many people on many planets who would argue that he’s not human. That he’s nothing more than a droid– no, nothing more than an eopie to slaughter.
“I bet you have access to so many through the military,” you say, a little wistful. “Do you have any on Endor?”
“I’m sure there’s some,” Rex says. “If they exist, I’ve never watched them. I’ll look the next time I have downtime, though.”
“You could call me too,” you tack on, a little girlish and wanting, hand resting on his thigh. Your thumb smooths over the fabric of his pants. “But there’s not much point in you calling me if you’re always running into me, is there?”
You meet Rex’s gaze through your lashes. Immediately, you break into a smile.
“I still have your frequency,” Rex says. He thinks about it, thinks about calling you when he’s supposed to be asleep, when the cycle of the ship is set to night. When he’s about to start watching a documentary and wants to see if you’re available to watch it at the same time with him. To have someone to come home to, just like in the movies.
“Do you?”
Rex nods. “Yeah.”
You smile. Your hand rests on his bicep again, long over the muscle. “Will you flex for me?”
There's a chuckle that Rex can’t help. “You have to lift your head up.”
The breath you take rises your back with its weight, as you wrestle with this. Eventually, you pick your head up. Rex curls his arm back, and the muscle in question rises, eliciting a giggle from you.
“I want to go into my bedroom,” you admit, hand tracing further up Rex’s body. You lean into his space as your hand travels, eventually resting on the back of his neck. You look from his lips to his eyes. “If that’s okay with you.”
It’s okay with him.
Your ceiling fan is on high. The windows are wide open, and one of your fans from the living room had been brought in, by Rex this time, and set up in a window. Naboo moves outside, nocturnal birds fly about, the ocean sloshes.
Sitting across Rex’s stomach, both of you are now shirtless. Your breasts press against his skin, the connection warm and needed. There’s a faint bulge you can feel through his boxers, pressing up against your ass, as you straddle his stomach. One hand rests on his pec, the other trails up to his face, dusting over where his eyebrow is stitched together.
“What happened to you?” You ask.
“Do you really want to know?” Rex asks.
You nod.
“Took the butt of a blaster to the face.”
You pout. Then, you lean in to press a featherlight kiss against it. Rex’s hand slides up the flat of your back, holding you close. His lips attach to the top of your breast, letting his lips lave over the flatness there.
“I’m sorry you got hurt,” you murmur, voice right above his ear.
“It’s okay,” Rex murmurs into your softness. “I’ve had worse.”
You brace your hands around his head. “Really? Will you show me?”
Rex swallows. His voice is a murmur. “Are you sure you wanna see?”
You nod. You’re not quite sure you do, as the horrors that exist beyond your little atmosphere terrify you to know end. But Rex’s chest shudders with his inhale, and you succumb to the vulnerability untying before you.
“I don’t have a lot… blaster shots cauterize on impact. And the bacta tanks heal you right up.”
Truly, Rex doesn’t want you to stop pressing your breasts against him. They’re soft. But you sit back upright and wait for him.
“I got shot here by a commando droid,” Rex says, fingers tracing a barely there scar on the center of his chest.
Your breath is shaky. “Do I want to know what that is?”
“No,” Rex says.
You press a kiss to the once-injured space. “But you’re okay now.”
“Was taken good care of,” Rex murmurs. For a brief moment, he’s in his imagination and you’re sitting at a handmade wooden table, he’s worked the fields all day, and there are two little children in the distance. He can’t see them, but he can hear them.
Shaking the wish from his mind, Rex continues to show you the faint map of his scars. There’s a now-knick on his side from when he was a cadet, that was once upon a time far more severe. A divot on his forearm from a barbed wire pulled taunt around him. He spares you the details.
You become distracted, however, by a collection of moles on his ribcage. Sliding your thumb over them, you lower yourself down to place a kiss on them. When you rise, you’re smiling wide.
“Y’know, they say moles are angel kisses,” you say.
“Y’must’ve left them last time,” Rex says.
You giggle, bringing a hand to cover your mouth. “Stop it. You’re being too sweet on me.”
“You’re gonna tell me to stop tellin’ the truth?” Rex asks, sitting up fully. His movements bring you to sink onto his lap. The warmth of his bulge presses against your core through your shorts.
“No…” you drag out, wrapping your arms around his neck.
Rex takes a deep breath as his hands press up your back, pulling you closer. He wants to remember how soft you smell, how you smell round and whole. For when he’s deep in the pits of hell.
Your lips are soft against his. Rex hesitates, unable to process for a second that you’re kissing him. But his brain catches up, his lips slide alongside your own.
When you pull away, your lips are parted and your eyes are watery.
“I’m sorry,” you say, smiling out of embarrassment. “It’s a waxing moon, I’m about to get my period.”
Rex furrows his brows. He has no idea what any of that means. “Are you okay?” He asks, bringing his hands to your face.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay,” you say, hand going to wrap around his wrist. You lean into his touch. “I was just thinking about how soft you are and… You’re so gentle but you have to be surrounded by so much violence.”
What a lie he must be weaving, for you to think he’s gentle.
At his silence, you sniffle just like you had that day by the water. You wipe under your eyes.
“We can keep kissing,” you say.
“Are you sure?” Rex asks.
You nod. Your swallow is thick. Rex reattaches his lips to yours, slow and gentle. Just as you have painted him into your memories.
Rex lays you down. You’re guided onto your pillows, nested atop your duvet. You’d made your bed so well, expecting it to get messed up. You’d expected to have your hair pulled, to have your ass up, to be rammed into and love every minute of it.
But instead, Rex is over you. He’s still kissing you, letting your tongues slide against each other. Letting your lips open and close gently against each other. Your hand slides down his chest before back over it, then trails over his shoulder that’s working to keep him above you. It’s hard and defined under your touch.
You hook a leg around his waist, trying to pull him closer. To feel him press against you.
Rex grinds against you in a fluid, rolling motion. His boxers are tight against him, and made of a thin, breathable material that allows you to feel the warmth pool from him. He’s on his forearm, and as he rolls against you his chest brushes against your nipples.
It’s electric. Your fingernails scratch against Rex’s head, feeling the fuzz of his buzzcut beneath your palms. Arching your back, you press yourself further into him.
While he seems more than content to just keep kissing you, as his hands stay off of your body, you are not. You run your hands over his chest, over his nipples, down his front. Glide over his abs, he has abs, your fingers dip under the elastic of his boxers.
Rex’s breath hitches and he bucks against you.
He pulls away to apologize, but you’re already smiling at him, glowing at the reaction. He loses his voice.
Your hands fall away from his boxers to instead touch yourself. There’s a patch of wetness at the base of your underwear, and you tap against it to feel it.
Rex should feel this.
You look from his lips to his eyes. Unilluminated, they’re this warm brown that you could get lost in.
“You should feel me,” you whisper to him.
Rex swallows. You nod at him.
“You might want to taste, too.”
Oh. Rex slides down your body. He leaves a kiss to your sternum, then glances over at your breast before up at you. A please in his eyes.
“You don’t need to ask,” you murmur.
Rex’s eyes flutter shut as he bows his head, lips pressing a line of adoration to your breast. To your nipple. His tongue flattens over the peak, wetting it and warming it, before his mouth closes around the bud.
He could stay here for hours, swirling his tongue and flicking it and sucking. The movements feel good, bordering on a preview for your aching clit. You bite your lip and shift slightly below him.
His other hand reaches up to grope your other breast. As his calluses smooth over the soft skin, you let out a pleased sigh. He thinks your breasts feel softer, heavier, plump. Why would he ever want to stop touching?
He switches sides, and those calluses feel electric over the spit sheened nipple. Your hand comes up to rest on his wrist, tan and large.
Rex pauses his ministrations and looks up at you. You look down at him. Your hand creeps up and flattens over Rex’s, using his fingers to grope your breast.
The two of you hold each other’s gaze.
“Why’d you stop?” You ask softly.
“Thought you wanted me to,” Rex replies. “I didn’t want to keep doing something you weren’t comfortable with.”
Your eyes soften, then you lean your head back against the pillows.
“You can’t say things like that,” you say, looking up at the ceiling.
“What’s wrong with it?” He slowly rises up your body.
“You’re being too considerate.” You don’t meet Rex’s gaze. Instead, your eyes remain trained on the ceiling, as if the white plaster is going to be cool enough to quell certain, stoking fires within you.
Rex’s brows furrow. Considerate is a good thing, isn’t it? He reaches for your face, cupping your jaw and, without speaking, asking you to meet his eyes.
You meet his confused gaze. Jolie always talks about this wild, crazed sex she has with clones. Battle adrenaline. It courses through them and leaves her in full nelsons that she talks about too loud at meals.
With a sigh, you wrap your hand around his wrist, pressing your cheek into his palm. You should take considerate sex when it’s offered to you. Who knows, you might even classify tonight as making love.
“Don’t listen to me. I’m just being silly,” and self conscious.
“You’re…” Rex searches for the right word. “More… you’re in your head tonight.”
The stakes are less here, in your linen covered bed, than they are on the battlefield, where in your head could cost you everything. Has cost good men everything.
You’re quiet again. You look down at Rex’s chest, letting your hand rub up and down his arm. It’s so nice, toned and firm beneath your touch.
“I’m… I’m really glad you’re here, okay?” How silly, to be this attached. How silly…
“I’m really glad to be here.”
You flutter your gaze at Rex for a moment before dropping it.
“I feel…” you take a heavy breath, a heavy swallow, “My ego is really bruised from being stood up tonight.” Shame courses through your body. You’re not only admitting this, you’re admitting it to a man who looks ready to feast on you.
Rex doesn’t exactly know how to respond. But he can imagine this must not happen to you often. And you seem genuinely uncomfortable by the experience.
“Let me help you forget about it,” Rex murmurs. Let me make you comfortable. “You deserve to have a good night.”
When you meet his gaze, it’s gentle. You swallow.
“Yeah?” Rex asks softly. Barely a whisper, barely audible over the fans.
You nod.
“Let me hear you.”
You bite your bottom lip for a moment. Then: “Yeah.”
Rex nods. He presses a swift kiss to your lips— He doesn’t want to get lost there, as he’s learned he’s prone to do.
Instead, he settles between your knees and slides your underwear down with careful precision. You’re not shaven, as a neat trim of hair engulfs your mound.
Dipping down, Rex’s hand settles on your thigh. He presses a kiss to the inner part, soft and delicate. Traces a line of his kisses to your core, where he slowly parts your folds and takes a moment to admire.
He presses a kiss to your labia that has your breath hitching before he’s pulling back.
“Pass me a pillow, sweetheart.”
Your stomach flips. It’s a good thing he’s not still looking at the most inner parts of you, because you feel yourself tingle and drool at the pet name.
Reaching to the other side of the bed, you pull out a fluffy pillow from the back, and hand it over to Rex. Already, you’re lifting your hips for him to slide the support beneath.
Rex spreads your legs again as he sinks back down between them. His tongue is flat as it slips through your folds, reacquainting himself with your taste. As if he ever forgot it.
Heady sighs leaves your lips, mixing with the hum of the fan and Rex’s lips against yours, slick with yourself. His fingers join his tongue, wetting themselves in the fusion of his saliva and your essence.
To make room for his fingers, Rex dedicates his mouth to your clit. He sucks and swirls and sighs into you, as his middle finger makes its way through your silk and inside.
A breathy moan leaves your lips as Rex’s exploration turns to rhythm. As one finger becomes two, as the digits not buried inside you press against your skin.
“Uhn,” escapes from the back of your throat. Rex has gone a little more crooked, insinuating how important it was that you come here with his fingers. “Right there, feels so good… Rex…”
Each word is a breath, warbling with pleasure. Music to Rex’s ears. The way you say his name is like electricity, shooting through his veins and straight to his cock, which strains against the compression boxers he wears.
The leg over his shoulder starts to shake. Rex reaches up for your breast, thumb sliding over your pebbled nipple. Your hand reaches for his head, scratching through the closely shorn stubble.
Your hand leaves him, instead fisting in the pillow beside you. Head turning, your hips move on their own as a warmth coils within you. Rex doesn’t stop. A moan from his lips reverberates through you and you moan in turn.
A plea for Rex to not stop leaves your lips. There’s vibration on your clit, as if he was responding to you. It’s enough to topple you over, come slipping out of you, warm like lava.
Rex slides his fingers out of you, only to replace them with his tongue. He laps up everything, leaving no part of your spread pussy unloved.
Your chest is heaving. Rex sits back on his calves, glistening fingers in his mouth. Catching sight of this, you feel your hole twitch.
His boxers are tight. Reaching between his thighs, Rex adjusts himself. The stimulation only makes things worse. He takes a shaky breath.
“Take them off,” you say, watching his hand over the outline of his cock with lidded eyes. You rub your hand down your body, over the inside of your thigh.
Rex’s eyes follow your hand before he meets your gaze.
“Please,” you tack on.
Rex slides off the bed, standing to the side as he takes off his boxers. His cock immediately bounces, free from the confines.
You sit up, legs curled to the side, and Rex comes to stand before you. He’s right below your chin. Your movement to kiss the pretty mushroom tip is stopped when you’re kilometers away. Just your breath on his erection causes a little dribble of precome to escape.
“You’re gonna make me come,” Rex mumbles.
You smile up at him. “Isn’t that the point?”
His ears go pink. Adorable. “No… feeling good is.”
“Does coming not feel good?”
Rex’s Adam's apple bobs as his cock twitches. It does feel good. But he thinks about the load that spilled down the shower drain. About how if he was to come right now it would be on you, not in you. Wasted.
You’re waiting for a response. Rex quickly nods.
“It does, but, I want, uh, I want—”
“Inside?” You ask, tilting your head.
Rex nods. Humming, you reach around him to open up your nightstand. Rex watches, eyes widening slightly at the contents. Not only are there condoms (he tries to ignore that you have varying sizes), there are silicone toys, some shaped like roses, others like butterflies, and one like a cock. Warmth churns in his stomach, along with something a little colder, a little more greedy. Jealousy.
You shut the drawer and Rex’s attention snaps back to you. Opening up the condom, you line it up at his tip and begin slowly sliding it down.
“I swallow, you know,” you say, off handedly, as if talking about the weather. “So it would still be inside.”
Precome leaks from his tip into the latex free sheath.
You look up at Rex. “But I know what you mean. You sit on the bed, I’m going to grab a towel.”
“I can grab it,” Rex says quickly. “They’re in the closet?”
The comment pangs you in a weird way you can’t place. As if instead of butterflies in your stomach, there are dragonflies.
“Yeah, they’re in the closet.”
You take a deep breath. Grab lube out of your nightstand.
Rex returns with a towel and hands it off to you, where you lay it over the pillow and bedding. You drop the little bottle next to the pillow.
Taking Rex’s hand in yours, you pull him close and down for a kiss. Gently, Rex urges you to lay back and let him crawl over you. His cock slides against your stomach and you wish he wasn’t wrapped, wish you could feel the leakiness across your stomach.
The two of you settle back, you haloed by your hair and the softened of your pillows, Rex between your thighs, rubbing on the smooth skin.
“Use the lube,” you say, shuffling around so your shoulders aren’t all scrunched up by your ears.
“Huh?”
“The lube.”
Rex looks at the little bottle beside your hip. He picks it up, examining it. Opening the cap, he squeezes some onto his fingers, then carefully applies it to his cock. Carefully, because he’s terrified of coming quickly.
“Wipe your hand on the towel,” you instruct, watching him with rapt attention. Rex does as you say.
His cock slides from your clit to hole, then back again, repeating the motion a few times to leave you wet and wanting. On the fourth pass, right before you want to tell him to put it in, the head catches on your hole. Rex places his hands by your waist, and slowly slides in.
You’re relaxed, walls opening up for him and gripping onto him all at the same time. A quiet moan escapes Rex’s lips as he inches his way in, brows pinched in concentration. Concentration on the velvet of your insides, of the way your legs wrap around his waist, of how slick everything feels. Of not instantly cumming and ruining the moment.
“Feels good?” You ask, a bit breathless. The stretch is so good you think you creamed just a bit.
Rex nods, just as breathless. Eyes focused on where you’re conjoined. Your fingers trail over the shell of his ear.
Slowly, he begins thrusting his hips in and out. He lifts his head, watching as your face contorts in pleasure. As your brows furrow then pinch. As you bite your bottom lip, eyes fluttering shut.
When you open them, he gets lost in the warmth of your eyes.
You hold eye contact, gasping and bodies moving together, until Rex dips his head and presses his lips against yours. Mouths open, tongues sliding against each other. His hips stutter and stumble, collapsing themselves to a grind.
You don't mind. You’re not going to come like this, but as Rex said, it’s just about feeling good. And this feels good. You feel sedated like this, reduced to nothing but a glowing ball of pleasure.
Rex pulls away with reluctance. He swallows, bends down to press one more kiss to your lips, then pulls back, sitting up on his knees. His thrusts stop for a moment, as he readjusts and throws your legs over his shoulder instead. He leans back over and resumes the steady thrusts.
A moan leaves your lips, as you feel him working his way inside you, all slippery. Wrapped in a silken sheen. Your hands fist in your pillow.
One of Rex’s hands reaches for one of yours, unfurling it from your grasp on the pillows. Instead, his hand slides into yours, and you grip onto the interlock.
The pace Rex is moving at is languid and deep, savoring every second of it. When he pulls back is until the head of his cock is about to leave your hole before it slides back in. It’s relaxing, it’s meditative— only instead of focusing on your breath you’re focused on the twitching hardness inside of you.
And Rex is twitching. As if it’s taking every modicum of self restraint to not come. Yes, his thrusts are languid and deep but his cock is twitching at a concerning rate.
“Are you going to come?” You ask Rex.
He shakes his head resolutely. You smile.
“You can, you know. You can come right now.”
Rex shakes his head again. “Want to come with you.”
Romantic. “You’ll have to speed up a little bit.”
Rex swallows, as if steeling himself. He slowly sits back up on his knees, and increases the pace, watching your face for approval.
“Little bit more,” you say, breathless.
Rex goes a bit faster, and it has your breasts bouncing. Rex wets his lips.
“Does that feel good?” He asks, voice strained.
You nod. “Feels so good. C’mere.”
Rex descends, as your hand slips between the two of you to circle your clit. You imagine there being a vibrator there, imagine Rex’s sensitive reaction to the vibration. Maybe next time, maybe when he wasn’t so sensitive, so obviously pent up.
Hopefully there will be a next time.
Rex’s hand is in yours again, his head ducked by your ear. You can hear every breathy grunt that escapes him. A moan leaves your lips, as Rex’s cock finally finds the right and perfect place inside you.
His ears pick up, just as your moans do. There’s a delicious stretch in your thighs, as Rex has you bent in half.
You know you’re done for when your fingers become stuck on your clit, unable to move in the little rhythm you had set. Your thighs shake, toes curling as you tilt your head back. Instead of your clit, you reach to toy with your nipple.
“‘M close,” you murmur, lost on a moan.
Rex mumbles something in your ear that you can’t make out. It doesn’t sound like Common.
You’re so close. Irritatingly so. You reach back for your clit, desperately searching for the peak—
You come with a moan that rises in pitch, sounding almost pathetic. As your walls flex around Rex’s cock he practically drills into you with staccato movements. Once. Twice. Thrice. And then he’s spilling inside you, all caught into the condom. His cock twitches. His hips weakly shudder in an uneven rock.
You rub his sweat-sheen back. Press a kiss to where his shoulder and pec join together. He smells delightful, all musky and sweaty.
There’s a little whimper that you almost miss, as your walls pulse around him. He can’t help it.
Rex swallows and pulls back. It’s uncomfortable inside the condom, but he wants to stay inside you. He wants to fall asleep nestled in your warmth. Wake up still there and able to continue where the night left off.
But he pulls out, leaving you shiny. He stares at the come and lube on the condom, then what's left on your pussy.
You run a hand through your hair, watching as Rex peels off the condom carefully and ties it off. It’s more attractive than any guy you’ve seen do it before.
“Wanna shower?” You ask.
Rex looks over from where he’s holding the used condom. He doesn’t know if he’s going to be able to act cool, calm and collected in the shower. Not after everything he’s done.
“We can shower,” Rex says.
You nod, but make no move to get up. Rex throws the condom away and comes back to your side, the bed dipping under his weight.
“Move over a little,” he murmurs, sliding against you.
You don’t. Instead, you curl up against him, head on his chest. Leg wrapped around his own.
“I can still feel you inside me,” you murmur against his chest. Rex wraps an arm around your shoulders to keep you close.
“What’s it feel like?” Rex asks, genuinely curious.
You hum, eyes shut. “Like a good stretch in the morning.” You open your eyes slowly, tilting your head back to look up at Rex. He’s all glowy in the lamplight. Your hand smooths over his chest.
There’s a little warmth stirring inside of you. You could easily go another round. Maybe in the shower…
“I want more,” you admit, quietly, not looking up at Rex. Normally you demand and demand and demand, but this time… you don’t want to scare him off. Don’t want him to see you as some deranged, insatiable sex freak.
Even if everytime you see him the two of you have sex.
“Sex?” Rex asks.
“Yeah…” your hand slides down his stomach, resting at his pelvis. His cock is flaccid, but stirs slightly at the suggestion.
Rex chuckles. It reverberates through his chest to your ear. Delightfully to your ear.
He presses a kiss to the top of your head that is far too sweet for a hookup. He rolls you over onto your back, and you go easily, smiling as you hold onto him by the sides of his jaw.
Rex’s lips are on yours. Only this time, you have the delightful sensation of his cock pressed directly against your cunt. You feel as he hardens, feel as he stirs back to life. Feel as Rex has to shift himself, when his cock becomes too hard that he has to shift it so it’s upwards, laying hot against your clit.
It almost makes you want to turn your back on your condom rule. Your safe sex rule.
But no. Instead you grind against his cock, all wet. Can feel as he grinds forwards, as his cock slides through your folds and his balls rub against you. The two of you moan and gasp into each other’s mouths.
Rex is terrified. This feels addicting. Precome smears across your tummy.
You open your eyes. You shimmy under Rex, not wanting him to pull back quite yet, as you grab a condom from your nightstand and hand it to him. It’s routine at this point. Rex wraps himself. He pulls your hips back to meet at the pillow. Sinks in slow, biding his time. Watching your face.
You almost want to suggest something, suggest that he takes you from behind while you’re ass up. But there’s something about the way that he’s watching your face, watching as it relaxes into pleasure, that refrains you from doing it.
Everything is unhurried here. Rex’s hand is in yours, you’re folded to the point where your hips are far off the pillow, knees close to your face. But it feels good. Rex might as well be in your throat.
You wonder, briefly, if Rex would eat his come out of you. An involuntary moan leaves your lips as your body shudders in delight at the thought.
Rex breathes out a moan that is not in Common, just as you had heard before. His hips speed up slightly. Your hand sinks down to your clit once more, gingerly touching the sensitive bud.
At the touch, your walls shudder around Rex. He gasps.
“Kiss me,” you breathe to him. Rex lifts his head up, breath ghosting over your face. A punched out moan leaves your lips as his hips move back and forth, creating a delicious pulse within you.
Rex doesn’t second guess the order. His lips are on yours, swallowing up every moan. You bite his bottom lip, just a little nibble. Then your tongue is back against his, just for a moment. Not for long, because you’re both moaning into each other's mouths.
It’s not even lewd. It’s as if you’re conjoined, body and mind. Coming is like riding a wave. Your hips roll into Rex’s in time with his own movements. The motions continue even after both of you have come, as you’re coming off the high.
Sedated and blissful to the world, you don’t let Rex pull out yet. Instead, you keep your legs around him, clamping down on his cock.
It feels good. He’s heavy above you. Heavy inside you. You’re thinking about him creaming inside you.
That’s when you know it’s time to let him up. You blow him a little, lazy kiss as he pulls out.
The condom is in the trashcan and Rex is back in your bed in moments. He’s learning.
Your head is immediately on his chest. Rex rubs his hand down your back. His heartbeat is quick in your ear. You stay quiet to listen.
It almost lulls you to sleep.
But Rex hasn’t stopped thinking about the shower. He lets you have your moments of rest and comfort before he’s kissing the top of your head and coaxing you to open your pretty eyes.
“Hm?” You slowly open your eyes, met with the curve of Rex’s jawline. Still floating, you reach up to press a kiss there. Then another. Then another. Each one is slipping down his neck.
It causes Rex to pause before he asks. The little kisses feel good. He wouldn’t be surprised if he had a trail of little moles along his neck.
“Want to take that shower?” Rex asks softly. His voice reverberates through your lips.
You nod. Slowly, you sit up and back on your knees, eyes swirling down Rex’s body. Then, you become cognizant of the lube on your inner thighs and it ruins any thought going through your brain.
Slipping off the bed, you head into the bathroom. Rex follows behind.
“How do you like your showers?” You ask him, getting towels out.
“Hot,” Rex says.
You nod, fiddling with the water temperature.
“Can you wait outside while I clean my pussy?” You ask. “It’s not very attractive.”
Rex doesn’t care. But he nods, throwing in a little ‘no problem’ as he leaves.
Alone in the bathroom, you take a deep breath. Being around Rex is making you think crazy, making you not think straight.
What were your friends going to say? You imagine their reaction to your confessions about your innermost thoughts while you piss. Contemplate what you were even going to tell them while removing your makeup. You clean away the lube in the warm shower.
Your hair is getting wet. You curse your lack of attention, but the damage has been done.
“Rex!” You call, summoning him into the bathroom.
He enters, closing the door behind him. Coming to the shower, he momentarily forgets what he’s there for, as his eyes trail all over you, following the rivulets of water down your body.
“C’mere,” you say. “Let me know if it’s hot enough.”
Rex steps in. The water’s warm, but it’s not scalding hot.
“It’s good,” Rex says, eyes struggling to stay on your face.
You hum, squirting soap out onto a washcloth. You lather it up, before beginning to clean your arm.
“Let me,” Rex says, selfish.
Looking up at him, you hesitate. Only because this feels like you’re playing house. Only because you’ll miss him when he’s gone.
You’ll miss him when he’s gone.
“Sure,” you say, handing off the washcloth to Rex.
It smells so good, like coconut and vanilla. It’s potent here, more so than it is when he’s receiving it secondhand through your skin. Diligently, Rex gets the lather all over your body. Through the fabric, he can feel your heart pounding away. He watches with rapt attention as it all washes away.
“Let me do you,” you say, repeating the same steps. Lathering up a washcloth, dragging it over the planes of his body.
He’s broad. You lather him up in your soap before maneuvering him under the spray. Your hands follow the cascades of water, ensuring all the soap is off his body.
“I’m gonna blast myself with cold water,” you warn him, “If you want to get out.”
“Why would you do that?” Rex asks. If you’re still turned on, Rex will gladly do whatever you want him to do.
“I want to close up all my pores that the hot water opened up,” you explain.
“What?”
“It’s good for your skin,” you summarize. “There’s a towel for you on the counter.”
Rex excuses himself from the shower to rub himself dry. The cold water is a rush out of the shower head and seems to gust over Rex.
But the water is off in a few moments and you’re stepping out, grabbing your towel off the hook and drying your hair.
“Are you hungry?” You ask him.
“I could eat,” Rex says.
Nodding, you pat yourself dry and throw on some moisturizer to your body. You don panties, then look over your shoulder at Rex.
“I have some sweatpants one of my guy friends left here, if you want to wear those,” you offer, already pulling open the drawer where they are. Truthfully, you nabbed these for being so comfortable.
“That would be nice,” Rex says. Better than putting on his blacks.
You pass over the sweatpants, then pull on an oversized sleep shirt. This one’s a silky, dark red button up from a lingerie store you spent too much money on.
Rex is sitting back at your breakfast table. He looks at the time on your oven, 11:58, before back to you. You’re placing the pasta you had ordered earlier on plates, then putting them one at a time in the microwave.
Rex gets his plate placed in front of him with a fork and spoon, before you put yours in the microwave. He doesn’t eat yet.
“You can start,” you say through a yawn.
“I’m waiting for you,” Rex says.
You rest your cheek in the palm of your hand, looking at the rotating food with an air of forlornness. “You have to stop being so considerate and nice,” you say, “You’re going to make me think you really care about me.”
You leave your post by the microwave to fill up two glasses of water, setting them on the table.
Rex watches you with a bit of disbelief. “Why would I not really care about you?”
You shrug. The microwave dings. You sit across from Rex with a plate of steaming food.
“I don’t know. I don’t see you too often.”
Rex watches as you start to eat. “I think about you all the time.”
You swallow your food, and swallow a wave of emotion along with it.
“Do you?”
“Yeah.”
Your throat feels constricted by emotion. Not wanting to unpack that, after already getting choked up and teary eyed early, you tell Rex: “Eat your food.”
Rex does as he’s told. It’s quiet at the table. The weight of something lingers in the air. Emotional weight. It stretches between the two of you. It only hurts because it’s unspoken, hurts like a too-tight hug in a port.
It’s when the two of you are laid in your bed, under the sheet since it’s too hot for the duvet, that you pick up your pasta conversation.
Both you and Rex are on your backs, staring up at the ceiling. He doesn’t want to overstep his boundaries, despite desperately wanting to pull you close. You don’t want to curl up next to him, terrified of how your heart will react.
“I think about you all the time, too,” you whisper into the darkness.
Rex turns his head to look in your direction. All the genetic modification, and the Kamanoans didn’t give him night vision. There’s little light from outside to illuminate you. Faintly, he can make out your silhouette in the shadows.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“C’mere,” Rex says, patting his chest.
You follow the sound, rolling until you’re laying tucked up against him. One of his hands secures around your back, the other slides from your bicep, following your arm up to where your hand is on his chest. His thumb slides under your palm, lifting it off his chest enough for him to take hold, bringing your knuckles up to his lips.
“I’ll make you a nice cup of coffee in the morning,” you murmur.
“I look forward to it,” Rex says softly.
You fall asleep with his hand rubbing up and down your back. It’s dangerous. You don’t know if you’ll fall asleep the same way again.
Morning rears his head far too early. The birds are chirping outside your window, dancing in the air above the streets. You’re facing your window, which you squint at. The tendrils of your dream slip away. Whatever had visited you during the night had been calm and warm.
There’s an arm around your waist. Rex. Your hand runs over his arm, which tightens around you. Rex presses his nose further into your skin.
There’s a familiar, sexed ache to your body. Rolling over, you come face to face with Rex, your eyes barely open and his fully awake.
“Good morning,” you mumble.
“Good morning,” Rex returns. There’s only a hint of gravel in his voice.
“How did you sleep?”
“Good.” He always sleeps his best here. “What about you?”
“Good.” You sleep your best when Rex is in bed with you, you think. Your hand comes to rest on his jaw, eyes slipping open and shut slowly. Sleepily. He has a little scratch of stubble. “How long have you been up?”
“Since the birds started outside,” Rex murmurs.
That’s early. “You should have woken me up.”
“You were sleeping,” Rex says, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. As if it was the only thing that made sense. But he says it so earnestly, so softly, that it tugs at your heart.
“Stay for longer,” you whisper, eyes fluttering open to meet his. “I can get you a nice job working as a dossier.”
“I can’t,” Rex says, though the idea is tempting. He doesn’t mention the Republic. “I don’t even know what a dossier is.”
You smile. “They help people at art museums.”
“I don’t know anything about art.”
“I could teach you.”
Waking up in your bed is tempting. But Rex shakes his head with a small, melancholic smile. He looks at your lips when he speaks. “You know I can’t do that.”
“I know,” you sigh. Maybe in another life. Maybe after the war— you cut yourself off. He’s a fling. A fun little hookup. An intergalactic piece. “Let me make you coffee.”
Ignoring the fact that you don’t make any of your other ‘pieces’ coffee in the morning, you busy yourself with summoning the energy to get out of bed. It’s harder than it appears, as your body seems to move on her own accord and tangle your legs with Rex’s.
He’s more than content to lay here, sunlight streaming over both of your bodies, while you wrestle with the conscious world.
Back at your breakfast table, as you brew the coffee, you notice that Rex sits with his legs sprawled out, taking up a good chunk of space. One arm is slung over the back of the breakfast chair, watching you intently. Softly.
“I’m going to work today early,” you say, just to make conversation. “It’s been all hands on deck, ever since this collection of paintings were stolen in the middle of the night. I don’t know what they expect me to do about it, but it’s causing me to work much longer than I need to.”
You set a mug of hot, black coffee in front of Rex, and receive a soft thank you as your fingers brush against each other with the passing of the mug.
When you sit, you pull your knee up to your chest, taking a sip of your milky drink.
“A painting was stolen?” Rex asks. He takes a sip of his coffee. It’s fresh and bitter.
“Whole collection. Gone in the blink of an eye. Well, overnight. But you know… I’m not a private investigator. So I’ve just been sitting at my desk for longer periods of time. As if the painting is going to magically appear.” You let out a long sigh. “But I shouldn’t complain.”
“And you’re just waiting for them to be returned? Or found?”
“Pretty much. But it’s giving me a good chance to catch up on some books. About art and art history and techniques. Have to keep my mind sharp somehow.” You sigh again. “Where are you off to?”
“No idea,” Rex admits. “Wherever I’m told to go.”
“And I can’t sway you to go back to my bedroom?”
Rex chuckles. “No, unfortunately.”
You sigh, this time a bit foolish. You know Rex can’t stay. “What do I have to do to get you to call me? To text me?”
“Uh… I need to get special clearance to make personal calls,” Rex says.
“Do I need to write a letter begging them to let you call me?”
“I, uh,” Rex’s chuckle is nervous. Partly because such a big favor seems out of the water for him, partly because it makes his heart race when you’re so adamant about wanting to hear from him. “I don’t know how that would work.”
“Well, I’m willing to,” you say. Taking one more sip of your coffee, you stand, opening up the bread box on your counter. You pull out a brown paper bag, pulling out an almond croissant and a muffin you didn’t eat yesterday. You cut each in half, then place them on plates.
Rex stands up while you fix breakfast together, moving your chair from across to beside him. When you come to bring the plates over, you blink at the arrangement, but say nothing of it. Instead, you sit down and place a plate before both of you. Rex’s legs remain sprawled out, one right beside you. You angle your body to face him, drawing a knee up again.
“Almond croissant, and coffee cake muffin,” you say, pointing out the food.
“Thank you,” Rex says, picking up the muffin.
“Do you want some fruit?” You ask, beginning to eat.
Rex shakes his head. “No, no, this is great, thank you.”
“Are you sure?”
Rex nods. You make a little face, pouting a bit. Abruptly, you stand, heading towards your fridge and pulling out a bowl of berries. Rex moves his leg for you to sit back down, before stretching it out again.
It feels so… normal. Looking out the window, you take in the scenery, the way you can see the cobblestone roads, the way you can catch a glimpse of the water. You turn your head back to Rex, watching him eat. You don’t have any protein to give him, because you have no interest in turning on the stove, and you feel a bit bad about it.
“Are you going to get in trouble for skipping out on dinner last night?” You ask.
Rex covers his mouth as he chuckles. He doesn’t think his general will give him a hard time about skipping out, given that Fives probably provided enough information to confirm that Rex was skipping out for dinner with a girl.
“No, no, I don’t think so,” Rex says. “They might ask questions, but that’s only ‘cause most of ‘em never even talk to girls.”
“No?”
“Nah.”
You nod at that, checking the time. “What time do you need to leave?”
Rex glances over at the time along with you. “Probably in like five minutes.”
A little whine peeks from the back of your throat. “Five minutes?”
“Yeah,” Rex says. His eyes drift all over your face. He swallows his bite of croissant. It’s sweet and flaky. Perhaps a hair stale; it wouldn’t have lasted more than a few more hours from now.
You lean forwards, further in Rex’s space. You glance down at his lips before back to him.
“I should probably get dressed,” Rex says, gently.
“Yeah,” you reluctantly agree.
Rex nods. You lean forwards more, one hand going to his thigh.
“Maybe a little kiss?” You ask, selfishly.
Rex’s heart skips a beat. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”
You smile. “That’s okay.”
The two of you meet in the middle, tasting of coffee and sweet brown sugar. You have to fight the urge to climb into his lap, instead settling for your deep lean. When you swipe your tongue along Rex’s bottom lip, he lightly sucks on yours in turn, then pulls away slowly.
“Okay,” you whisper. “Go get dressed.”
Rex presses one more kiss to your lips before standing up. You watch as he gets himself together, watch his spine, watch his shoulders. Sighing, you sit back and pop a berry into your mouth. When you go to say goodbye to him at the door, it aches in your chest.
“One more kiss,” you breathe.
The door is open. The sunlight illuminates the courtyard.
Rex can do one more kiss. He leans down, pressing his lips to yours once more. It’s tart and sweet, like the berries you had just eaten. Like the pressure on his heart.
You don't ask him to call you. Instead, you watch from your doorway as he walks down the stairs, as he walks out through the courtyard. Until he turns to the left and is obscured by the walls. Only then do you close the door. Only then do you begin your day, alone again.
#captain rex x reader#reader x captain rex#okay pls enjoy#by ophelia#PLSSS ENJOY !!!!!!!!!!! that is my biggest thing pls enjoy#and pls lmk if you enjoy..... i love reading comments and tags and yapping i rly do i have so much to say about this fic#i need to finish it.....
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
Presenting: Ciel Phantomhive
#ciel phantomhive#black butler#kuroshitsuji#this lil brat#i mean lil guy#hes my favourite okay#i had so many other ideas but i ran out of steam quickly#pls enjoy
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
#look guys i swear i was gifing something legit from this#this is how the video is cropped and shit#okay#pls believe me this was the camera angle ahahaa cx#are we just not suppose to enjoy the curve of his spine or the thigh action or throwing his head back???#the squishing??#blasphemy#sleep token#ii#worshitposting#i apologize
455 notes
·
View notes
Text
EDYN TIDESTRIDER, CHALLENGER OF THE UNDERSEA, RIVAL OF THE DEEP. WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOUR BROTHER WAS CHOSEN TO BE A WEAPON OF THE GODS? HOW WILL YOU UNDO WHAT THEY HAVE DONE TO HIM?
#jrwi fanart#jrwi show#jrwi riptide#edyn tidestrider#cw blood#EDYYYNNNN TTIDESTRIDERRR OHH HOW I LOVE HERRRR#THIS IS A PAGE FULLA REEAALLY OLD DOODLES AND REALLY REALLY OLD DOODELS AND NEW DOODLES. ENJOY.#ONLY CLEANED IT UP A BUNCH TTODAY AND IM ACTUALLY SO SO HAPPY W IT WEEEEE#WHAT WAS IT LIKE? DOWN IN THE UNDERSEA. TO VISIT YOUR BROTHER WHENEVER THE ADULTS WOULD LET YOU#A KID WHO DIDNT UNDERSTAND WHAT WAS GOING ON OR WHY HER BROTHER WAS BEING TAKEN AWAY OR WHY HE KEEPS GETTING HURT#OR WHY THE ADULTS JUST KEEP LETTING IT HAPPEN. ITS FOR THE BEST? FATE OF THE WORLD AND ALL THAT? HEY WHO THE FUCK IS IN CHARGE HERE#HOW DO WE STOP IT. HOW DO I STOP IT. THERES PEOPLE OUT THERE WORKING ON SOMETHING. ARITIFICIAL LEVIATHAN YOU SAY?#WE COULD BUILD A THING TO RIVAL THE GODS. WELL. SIGN ME UP. IM GOING TO UNDO WHAT THEY DID TO YOU#WHAT A FASCINATING THING SHE ACTUALLY SAID. 'IM GOING TO UNDO WHAT THEY DID TO YOU' HELLO?? EDYN? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN#WHAT EXACTLY DID THEY DO TO HIM. OTHER THAN THE PROPHECY TRAINING. YOU CAN UNDO THAT? YOU CAN UNDO ALL THAT? HOW?? HELLO???#LIKE SURE I JUST SPOUTED MY THEORIES I THINK SHE WANTS TO KILL GOD BUT THATS JUSTA THEORY... A GA#WHAT IS EDYNS GOAL AND WHY CANT SHE TELL ANYONE OOUUUHHH EDYNNNN CMERE EDYNN CMERRE STOP WALKING AWAY CMERE. COME HERE.#fuuuuuck shes so mysteriousss what is she HIDING!!shes also so so so so angry i fucken know she is. shes so gentle and so sweet and timid#but she is ANGRY and shes SMART and clearly shes AMBITIOUS bc shes TALKING TO THE FUCKING BIG HEAD HONCHO O THE FUCKEN NNAAAVYYYYY#ALSO WHO IS NICHOLAS. IF THATS EVEN HIS REAL NAME. WHO DID YYYOU MEET EDYN. DO YOU HAVE A WISH TO BE GRANTED EDYN???#CHEWING ON THE BARS O MY CELL I NNNNEEEEED TO KNOW MORE ABOUT EDYN IM SO CURIOUS IMG ONNA KILL PEOPLE#i said once in another post 'the oath an eldest sister takes on is on par w that of a paladins-#-and sometimes upheld w the very same ferocity'. I REALLY LIKED THAT LINE.#pleeese... if u can hear me.. pls join me and draw edyn w unbridled plasmatic rage abt the way her brother was treated by the Elders#also pls draw her SCARY. I NEED HER TO BE SSCARY. PLEEASEE I NEED HER TO BE JUST AS VIOLENT AS GILLION BUT INA ICE COLD WAY#JUST AS VIOLENT JUST AS STRONG JUST AS MUCH OF AN AQUATIC MONSTER. im sure u see the vision.#ok i gotta go t bed now i got work in tha morning n i should nnot be stayin up this late. if u hav thoughts abt edyn pls scream abt em#okay byyyyeee goodniiigihhttttt
163 notes
·
View notes
Text
thinking about how mulder loves to get scully a gift, usually terribly heartfelt, even if disguised as something flippant:
the superbowl vhs tape he brings her when she wakes up from her coma in one breath (and her deadpan "i knew there was a reason to live")
tickets for a football game to watch together in irresistible
bringing her flowers to the hospital in memento mori (he lies, saying he stole them from a guy with broken legs to make her laugh)
the birthday keychain in tempus fugit (and when she finds a meaning to it, he claims "i just thought it was a pretty cool keychain")
that is a man who is always thinking about her.
#you can just picture him at the store thinking “oh boy she's gonna love this :)”#i think the superbowl vhs one chokes me up the most because he's trying so hard to play it cool when he had just lost her#and he needs to break the ice somehow because he hates to put those big feelings into words#he's more into saying what he means with touch and subtext#it's as if he needed SOMETHING off of the shelf at the store to say “i'm glad you're back. i missed you. i hope you're well”#so he goes with a dumbass VHS she is never going to watch. just to see her recognize his coded declaration of love.#and that exhausted smile she reserves for his antics#and it makes me tear up! still! thinking about it!#i know love languages are problematic but i do think there is something underrated about giving gifts as an act of love#of having your thoughts for someone being represented with a physical object. making that love tangible. you can touch it.#(it works very well on me because i tend to assume if you're out of sight you're not thinking about me)#(so looking at a little trinket someone gave me is like oh!!! they actually are thinking about me often. enough to find this Thing)#anyway. that is my emotional ramble for the evening. please enjoy#AND DISCLAIMER: i am sure there are other examples of him giving gifts i forgot and that there are more yet to come#but as a reminder i have only seen up to s5 ep 3 so! pls no spoilers even if i do tag this for the general public#okay promise? promise no spoilers in the tags? thank youuuuu mwah#the x files#txf#msr#fox mulder
129 notes
·
View notes
Text
18+only: bondage, begging, humiliation, dom/sub subtext
Just thinking about Eddie messing around with the handcuffs and thinking about what it would be like to be restrained against a headboard since he didn't have one.
Going to your house and using the spare key you have hidden to get inside. You would never know! He'd be in and out. Going to your room and laying on your bed stretching his arms above his head and interlocking the handcuffs with the headboard. Tightening the cuffs so they aren't too tight but they also leave a thin red mark if he struggles against them too much. Not enough to cut him but enough he can see it later and be reminded that he was here like this.
And Eddie is so turned on and he's in your bed and surrounded by your scent he can close his eyes and imagine you laying next to him. He goes to unlock the handcuffs but the angle is weird and he drops the key. He can hear it hit the floor with a clang. Eddie tries to get out but can't. And Eddie's face is flushed from embarrassment and now really isn't the time to learn that makes him a bit harder. All he can do is wait and try his best to not think sexy thoughts and hope his problem goes down.
And then you come in and all you see is Eddie laying on your bed, arms stretched above him. The glint of metal wrapped around his wrists and your headboard like a flashing light. Eddie's face is flushed, a nice red that spreads down his neck. With his arms stretched above his head, his shirt has lifted revealing his stomach. Curls of hair that form under his belly button that trails down and disappears under his jeans. A very prominent bulge in his pants. A very very prominent bulge.
Eddie is simultaneously mortified and horny and he can't help shivering under your gaze. He is literally at your mercy here and if that doesn't make his dick strain harder against his jeans.
And if you come over and slowly trace your fingers up and down his chest, each stroke down getting closer and closer to his jeans. Him lifting his hips up slightly in the hopes that he can get some friction from your hand against him. You scolding him and removing your hand, teasing him. Eddie's whimpers and gasps filling the air, begging you for anything just please touch him. Finally getting some relief when you finally do
#Mentally I am here and God i wish I was physically#I should be writing instead have this#I am adding as many content warnings to the top as possible so that way nothing is missed okay anyways pls enjoy#Eddie Munson x reader#Eddie Munson x you#Eddie Munson x y/n#Eddie Munson/you#Eddie Munson/reader#Jade is Talking#Eddie Munson smut
252 notes
·
View notes
Text
NEON LIGHTS
Pairing (Original Characters): Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion)
Story Synopsis:
R&B singer/songwriter, Jameson Lucas, is well known as a charming playboy. The latest in his line of ‘loved em and left em’ behavior? Imani St. Cirie, an emotive singer/songwriter herself. As common sense pulls them in opposite directions – friendships are tested, old flames resurface, and new opportunities threaten to tear them apart for good. In this industry, dreams can make or break you – but what happens when love becomes the gamble of a lifetime? Chapter I // Chapter II // Special Edition // Chapter III // Special Edition Pt. 2
Chapter Synopsis: Jameson flies to Italy to repair his relationship with Imani, while Genie gets closer to Ellington.
Warnings: smut (18+), toxic relationship, possessiveness, profanity, usage of the n-word (if you’re white and read it, you owe us $20), rough sex, p in v (naturally), oral (female receiving), squirting, creampie, aftercare – if we missed anything, let us know!
Word Count: 5.5k // Divider Template: @cafekitsune
Notes: The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.
There will be alternating POVs between our leads.
CHAPTER IV: Insane / Wasted
she couldn't help but look at the images again. jameson had the kind of smile that lit up his whole face -- that was when he was truly happy. and he was smiling hard as fuck in the pictures. her eyes flitted to sloane's form, the hand against jameson's arm and the way it curved around his waist. she would never admit it to another soul...but they looked nice together. there was no love lost between she and sloane but imani didn't hate her until this exact moment.
"stop looking." genie told her and immediately immediately shoved her phone under the pillow.
"i wasn't." she lied. "fuck jameson and that bitch."
it had been genie who told her about the pictures -- warning her before she did something stupid like text jameson and tell him that she missed him. it was small but she was grateful that her best friend hadn't tried to talk her into anything. she listened to her rant, agreed not to answer the phone for jameson, and immediately set about distracting her.
despite being in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, her mind had nothing but images of jameson. she'd had a spark of hope in her heart that they would possibly figure shit out this time around but it was so damn hard expecting him to do the right thing. listening to his excuses and reasons why it was everyone else's fault but his got exhausting and imani didn't want to hear that shit. she focused on the outfits that she and genie were pulling together for her italian promo tour.
jameson had even gone silent for damn near a day. no calls, no texts. even that pissed her the fuck off. almost as if the thought of him summoned the man, imani felt the phone under her pillow began to vibrate. somehow or another, she knew it was him. she and genie both knew and they ignored the vibrating echoing throughout the room.
a minute passed then genie's phone rang out loud, her gaze darted to imani's before she cleared her throat. "don't answer him, genie." imani said sternly, sitting up in bed. sure enough, she watched as genie swiped her finger across the screen and the phone went silent. for a minute or two, there was total silence between them...before the phone in the suite began to ring.
it felt like a scene out of a horror movie. he just wouldn't leave her alone and imani had had enough. she climbed from the bed and stomped her way through the suite. by the time she made it to the phone, she was practically breathing fire. "hello?!" she answered tersely, ready to curse jameson's ass out but she was greeted with the sound of a friendly front desk clerk.
"buonasera, signorina. i am most sorry to trouble you this evening but i am afraid we have a situation." the voice said, the english heavily accented with italian.
"oh. oh, i'm sorry." imani immediately apologized, guilt pushing her to say more but she was cut off.
"my manager would like to call la polizia but the signore asked for you personally and i thought we should be sure before we did so." the voice continued -- a woman from what imani could tell.
"i don't understand what you saying. call the police? for what?" confusion was written all over her face as imani brought her gaze up from the phone. genie came flying down the hall, phone against her ear and imani got distracted by her. she caught the words "you make my ass hurt!" from genie before the other girl was stomping past her and towards the front door.
"signorina?" "i'm sorry. what did you say?" "signore lucas says that you are expecting him but he cannot remember your room number. if he is inconveniencing you, we will have no problem calling la polizia." "call the cops on signore lucas. do what y’all need to do. i don’t care. thank you!”
imani hung the phone up, hands on her hip as she walked around the empty space. she had no idea where genie had gone but it was probably to save jameson from an italian jail. “that dumb ass nigga really flew his ass to rome.” she muttered to herself. washing her hands of jameson always seemed so complicated but as she decided to take a bath, it felt pretty damn easy.
the only reason genie answered the phone was because imani left the room. it was a betrayal of her best friend, sure, but she wanted to hear an explanation from jameson. probably more than imani did. there was love lost between she and sloane. jameson was practically her brother and she wanted to know what the fuck he was doing with the enemy -- even if he didn't know she was the enemy.
"imani doesn't want to--" "what floor?" "huh?" "what. floor. are. you. on?" jameson asked. "jamie, tell me you didn't come here." "you not gone tell me?" "no!" "okay. that's fine."
he went quiet for a moment before genie heard a knock on the other end of the phone. she heard him introduce himself to a stranger and then ask "is imani in there? she gasped out loud. "jameson, stop that! stop it! you're going to get in trouble."
he didn't say a word to her and she heard him continue to move from one door to the next, asking anybody who opened it the very same question: "is imani in there?"
"stop it!" "are you going to tell me?" "what floor are you on? i'll come get you, damn it." "fifth. i know she likes a view." "oh now you're interested in what she likes?" "i lost her once, genie. i'm not about to lose her again. especially over some shit that's a misunderstanding." "so you weren't on a date with sloane?" "of course not. c'mon. you know sloane! you know she--" "i do. i know her better than you do, jamie. it hurt imani to see those pictures. you weren't doing anything but you have to understand...she's in a very difficult situation with you. she wants to believe you but she's scared. and you don't make the shit any easier." "that's not what i'm trying to do. i--"
"excuse me, sir? are you a guest here?"
genie knew that was no good. she jumped up from her seat, moving through the suite. imani may not want to see him but something had to give before he caused a damn international incident. genie hustled past imani, not even realizing she was still on the phone or what the conversation was. her slippers practically hissed against the floor as she left the suite, took the elevator to the fifth floor, and got there just in time to see security grasping jameson's jacket. a concierge was with them and he seemed flustered by the situation.
jameson's phone was still at his ear but he wasn't talking to genie -- he was cursing. "you need to let my fucking jacket go. wrinkling my shit." he and imani were two peas in a damn pod. "i'm sorry. he's with me." genie did her best not to shout, getting a grasp of jameson's jacket herself. she pulled him in her direction, pleased to see that he stumbled toward her somewhat.
"we've had many complaints, signora." genie nodded her head, yanking jameson in her direction once again. security didn't let go and he didn't stumble this time. instead, jameson pulled his jacket from the other man's hand with the meanest mug on his face. genie knew he was about to say something stupid so she pinched his side before he could. "i understand." genie reassured the two men. "but he's with me. he's my brother. he's just...stupid."
the concierge and security guard glanced at each other -- almost as if they were trying to see if she was right about him. genie prayed jameson would stay quiet. she could feel his stare on the side of her face but kept her gaze on the guard. relief hit her hard with they nodded, a signal that she and jameson could leave. "thank you! thank you so much." genie said graciously, giving both men a smile. jameson let her lead him to the elevators -- her jacket still in his grasp until she pushed the button for the third floor.
finally, genie turned and met his gaze as the elevator doors closed. "hey, stupid."
the past twenty hours had been bullshit. that was the best way to sum it up: bullshit. he was sleep deprived, anxious, and annoyed as fuck but it was finally time to get this shit with imani settled. genie reluctantly lead him to their suite. when she swiped the keycard and pushed the door open, jameson didn't waste time stepping inside.
"hey." jameson turned to see that genie didn't follow him inside. "please get it right this time. i love you both. but i won't forgive you if you break her heart again." before jameson could reassure her, she shut the door and he was left alone with her words.
the suite was quiet, almost eerily so. maybe it was exhaustion settling in his bones but jameson was so damn tired of this shit. he was determined to get shit straight right then. jameson shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it across the back of a couch as he slowly made his way through the space.
his mouth opened to to call out for her but the way she was feeling meant that she might not answer. it wasn't until jameson heard water that he realized she was in the bathroom. he took a deep breath -- and then twisted the knob, surprised that it was unlocked. the further he moved into the room, the hotter it got.
then...there she was. soaking in warm water, covered in bubbles. her head rested against the rim of the tub. she turned her head, opened her eyes, and gave a little scream when she saw him standing there. for a moment, they simply stared at one another. her gaze swept his face, moving up to his hair -- or lack there of. he watched her eyes go wide before she pressed her lips together.
his gaze swept what he could see. her hair pulled up into a messy knot on top of her head. her hands and shoulders were clear of soapy bubbles but everything else was hidden. a wave of desire swept over him but jameson pushed it down -- ignored it and continued to move into the bathroom.
finally, they both found their voices at the exact same time.
"get out!" "i missed you."
imani blinked up at him before he saw the anger take over again. she opened her mouth to say something else but jameson spoke faster. "you got me on a plane halfway around the world, jetlagged as fucked. go ahead and yell. once you get it all out, we can talk about it." jameson took a seat on the floor next to the tub, leaning against the wall.
"i ain't got shit to say to you." "no? you don't want to call me a lying ass, cheating ass nigga? piece of shit? nothing?" "i don't expect you to do right. you never do." "i'm doing right now, imani. nothing happened with her." "i don't give a fuck." "yes you do. you love the fuck out of me. and i love the fuck out of you." "you--" "which is why...i would never fuck up like that again. i was in new york for an interview. sloane called. asked me to come by while she was working some deal. i did. we were there for all of ten minutes. i did nothing but talk about you. then we had lunch. then i left her at her hotel." "i don't care." "you do." "you can't tell me what the fuck i feel." "i can. because i know you."
her frustration built as he calmly refuted each retort. jameson could see it in her face. she was mad as fuck. she sat up straight, pressing her hands to the side of the tub and to get up and he stopped her by placing his hand on top of hers. "don't. finish your bath."
imani glared at him and pulled her hand away -- the movement was slow but full of resentment. it didn't matter that he had flown around the world with nothing in his hands. what mattered was that she was scared. she was angry. and it was his fault. for once, he was at a loss as to what to say to imani. she rose from the water anyway, stepping out of the tub and ignoring him as she wrapped herself in a robe.
jameson watched her silently before taking a deep breath. he got up from the floor and followed her out of the bathroom -- ready for round two.
"good...evening. it is evening in italy, right? the sun is still shining here."
ej answered the phone with a grin, pleased to hear from genie so soon even though he knew why she was calling. it was the first time he'd heard her voice over the phone and it made him smile to know that genie adesanya had called him.
"you tricked me." she said shortly, making him smile.
"no idea what you're talking about, baby. but since you called me -- i take it jamie made it safely." "this isn't about jamie! and stop calling me baby." "yes, ms. adesanya. if this isn't about jamie, what is it about?" "you! you tricked me. you made me tell you what hotel we were at." "jamie already knew! he told me." "liar. he didn't even know what floor we were on. he knocked on random people's doors asking for imani!"
she sounded as if she were pouting and the image of her doing so made ej grin. his best friend's shenanigans were only the cherry on top of the sundae. ej muted the phone, not wanting her to hear him laugh. the last thing he wanted was a lecture.
"okay. fine. i admit it. i tricked you. but i told you...that's my boy." "he almost ended up in an italian jail." "it's nothing. i got money. i coulda got my nigga out." "you're no help. you encourage his worse tendencies." "listen, i don't want him over there. i want him here. finishing his album. but he's stuck on mani. obsessed with the idea of getting it right with her. do i think it's possible? no. i think those two are too alike. something's gonna go wrong. but he's my best friend and i want to support him."
genie was silent for a moment before he heard her softly ask a question. "...you don't think they'll make it?"
ej winced, wishing he hadn't told her that. he didn't want to rain on her optimism. he liked how she seemed to see the best in everything and everybody. "i don't know, g. i hope so but i won't hold my breath over it."
"i think you're wrong." she said, her voice stronger than it had been before. "i think when you love like that -- truly and deeply -- there's nothing you wouldn't do to make it last. i believe him. he wants her back. and he's going to get her because she loves him too."
ej nodded even though she couldn't see him. "i want you to be right, baby." ej heard her snort before she spoke again. "i told you not to call me baby."
a grin spread across his lips as he nodded once again. "yes, ms. adesanya. now where are you? did our best friends kick you out of your room?"
she was flustered and annoyed with him but mostly with herself. having a reaction to jameson was never good. she tried so hard not to show him even a smidgen of feelings and failed every single time. fuck him! this was irritating. imani hadn't expected jameson to be in Italy, much less have the balls to come to her room. she came out of the bathroom looking for the genie and found the other woman gone. she couldn't help but feel somewhat betrayed.
"mani."
jameson followed behind her and imani redirected from the bedroom to the living room. the last thing they needed was to be in a room with a bed while she was naked. "i don't want to hear it, jamie." she said, suddenly exhausted. "we keep trying to make this work but maybe this isn't meant to be."
all they seemed to do was talk in circles, gas each other up, and then boom. reality came crashing down into their optimistic plans. she wasn't going to compete with a woman for jamie again. sloane could have him if she wanted him that damn bad.
"it's like you're not listening to me." jameson replied and imani realized it was true. she didn't want to hear it. she didn't want him to get her hopes up again. "i'm gonna make this shit work because all i've ever wanted is you. i got stupid and let my ego take over before. then i lost you. and i swear the past year has been so hard. i get my life from you, mani. this is where i want to be. don't shut me out. let me prove it."
she stood with her arms folded, glaring at him as he spoke. part of her melted -- just like she had before. she wanted him to fight for her. to prove that what she saw in him before their breakup had been real. but another part of her was sick of the rollercoaster. she wanted to get off it, would kill to be able to feel nothing when she saw him. there was so much she wanted to say but also nothing she could say at the same time.
"it can't be this easy all the time, jamie." she said softly, annoyed at the fact that he seemed to be able to unlock something in her. "you can't give me some bum ass speech every time and think everything is going to be okay because you love me. love isn't always enough and i'm tired of hearing it from you."
jameson moved closer to her, lifting his hands to show her that he was harmless -- as if that were fucking true. "i understand. so tell me. tell me what you need from me. what you need me to show you, baby? i'll do it. anything."
imani looked at him with distrust and confusion. he didn't touch her, he just...stood there with her. his hands were still up, making him appear as if he was trying to calm a scared, wounded animal. "put your hands down." she told him -- and was surprised by how quickly he did it. he didn't argue, he didn't make a joke. he just...did what she told him to. that was interesting. "tell me you're sorry. you said everything except that."
jameson's gaze softened as he nodded his head, realizing that he hadn't apologized for the misunderstanding or invading her privacy. "i'm sorry, baby. i'm so sorry. i shouldn't be here. i should have waited for you to come home. i should have been more considerate about how those pictures would make you feel. i'm sorry."
despite telling him that speeches wouldn't be enough -- imani knew she would relent. she didn't know if she was overreacting or not when it came to sloane. but even if she was...it felt good to hear him validate it. to tell her he was sorry for how he made her feel. instead of thanking him, imani let her gaze linger over his face. "you cut your hair."
jameson looked at her with surprise -- as if he hadn't expected her to acknowledge it right then. "yeah. i did."
"why?" imani asked him, fiddling with the tie that kept her robe closed tightly.
"i'm doing a movie. why do you ask? you like it?" "i guess. makes your ears look bigger." jameson laughed out loud, tsking softly. "okay, i deserved that."
imani gave a small smile, proud of herself for that the joke landed. she hadn't fully forgiven him but she could feel some of her agitation ease. whether that was a good thing or not -- she didn't know but of course, time would tell with jameson.
"...i'm still mad." imani told him, placing her hands against her hips. "don't think i'm not. or that you can just fly to me in the middle of the night and think i'll forgive you."
"i don't think that at all" jameson said softly as he took a step closer to her. imani didn't move away. instead, she dropped her hands, watching as he lifted his hand to press to her hip. "say you're sorry again." she demanded. he repeated the apology, leaning in to seal it with a kiss to her lips -- and imani allowed it. all of a sudden, she got an idea and knew he'd go along with it.
jameson breathed a sigh of relief when she let him kiss him. imani never did anything she didn't want to do. she couldn't be bullied or tricked -- she stood on shit. so jameson knew if she ever fully made up her mind to get rid of him? he was good as gone. he had spent a year trying to get back next to her. he wasn't going to lose that shot.
"eat my pussy"
imani spoke lowly but with conviction. jameson's gaze shot up to meet hers, wondering if he imagined she said the words. but he hadn't. she looked at him, brow raised as if she thought he'd have something to say in response. but he didn't. this is what she needed from him right then. she needed his devotion and his obedience. it wasn't like anything they had done before. usually, jameson was in control -- they both liked it that way. but he kind of liked this too.
jameson reached for the fuzzy tie keeping her robe closed. with one sharp tug, it fell open and exposed her body to him. he could hear his heart beat pounding in his ears as he took her in. her skin was smooth and soft. he could still smell the lavender of her bubble bath. pretty titties sat high with nipples already pointed. he hadn't even touched her yet and she was ready. it wasn't like he hadn't seen her undressed before. he'd had her spread open and calling his name a week ago but every time he got his hands on this girl, he lost his mind.
without hesitation, jameson fell to his knees and began to kiss at her thighs. by the time he lifted her leg and placed it over his shoulder, her hands had his ears in a tight grip. he leaned in, mouth open and ready to taste before he felt her jerk his head backward. she almost lost her footing but remained stable as she stopped him from tasting her. "beg me for it."
he didn't waste his time arguing about it. he did what she asked -- and begged. "mani, please. i need you. i sat on a plane for seventeen hours. i don't have shit to wear but what i have on...and i don't give a fuck about any of that. i just want you to cum on my face. i'll make it good for you, baby." he didn't know it worked until she carefully pushed his head forward and wordlessly gave him the go-ahead.
jameson ran his tongue along her lips and up, parting her already wet folds with his tongue. the first touch of his tongue made her let jolt against his shoulder but she didn't stop him. not even when he began to lick, spread, and slurp at what she let rain down into his mouth. jameson hummed softly and happily, his hands finally lifting to grasp her ass. she tasted like water to a man who had been dying of thirst. he wanted to touch her everywhere. imani used his ears, dragging his head back and forth when his tongue swiped against her clit. she whimpered, slumping forward as she ground her hips against his mouth. "g-go back. right there. y-yeah..." she stuttered. his gaze lifted to her face, watching as she nodded her head in time to the way he sucked at her clit. jameson's hands moved down her legs, pushing her to lean further against his face.
eager hands caressed her thigh as his tongue lapped at her juices eagerly. the sound of her heavy breathing mingled with moans filled the room. she arched her back to give him better access while stroking his ears lovingly.
he forgot that they were in the living room of a suite she shared with a woman they considered family. he forgot that she'd had him stressed him for almost twenty-four hours. he even forgot that the genie was coming back to the room soon. all he could see and think about was imani.
jameson wedged his tongue into her, angling it so that it thrust inside her pussy like his fingers would and was rewarded with a long moan from her. imani squirmed, the leg that kept her standing trembling and jameson braced it, taking enough control to angle the woman towards the couch. he did it without taking his tongue from her and was damn proud of himself.
his mouth closed around her clit as she fell to the couch and jameson didn't stop her as she lifted her other leg to his shoulder -- getting a better chance to ride his face. both her legs trembled as he finally pulled his hands from her legs and thrust his index and middle finger into her, twisting and squelching inside her wetness.
imani pulled at his ears so hard that jameson grunted against her, feeling the heat rising -- but he couldn't quite bring himself to give a shit. when she came, it was with a shout of his name and her thick thighs closing around his head. if she had killed him, he would have died happily.
he stroked her down from her release, kissing and petting at the wetness that she left between her thighs and against his face. imani let him, legs going weak as they fell open. for a moment, jameson just watched her try to catch her breath. he didn't get up, he didn't shove his dick in her mouth the way she liked him to. he just...waited. patience was a virtue and he felt like a fucking saint because it took her forever to come back to earth. he kissed her thighs, doing his best to take care of her. and then she spoke again -- her voice slurred with pleasure.
"take your clothes off."
once again, he followed the command with ease. he got up from the floor, kicking off his shoes as he dragged his tongue across his lips. his pants and boxer briefs followed. by the time he'd whipped his shirt over his head, she seemed to come to her senses.
"let me ride you."
she was still giving the commands but jameson noticed her tone go soft. he stood naked in front of her and her eyes were trained on his dick. the attention pleased him and made his length bob. "stop looking at me like that. my dick is already hard enough." he muttered, as she smiled brazenly. he fell to the couch next to her and watched as she climbed onto his lap...reverse cowgirl. she knew he never lasted long that way.
jameson snatched the robe from her body, tossing it across the room. he didn't want any distractions or anything hiding her from him.
her entire body still felt like electricity was running through it. jameson could talk a lot of shit but he always backed it up. that tongue of his was a killer and it never missed when he put it between her legs. if his dick hadn't looked so damn perfect when she told him to strip, she probably would have left him with blue balls. but why fight it? it was pleasure for them both. imani leaned forward, using the fancy coffee table in front of the couch as leverage. with one hand against the expensive oak table and the other around her body -- fingers wrapped around his dick, imani guided him to the right spot. as expected, jameson's groan was louder than her moan.
he slipped into her with ease, her shaking hands didn't have to do too much work. imani worked herself up and down his length, her head dropping to watch their bodies rock against one another. despite the tension between jameson's strong hands pressed to her hips, and circled her hips. he was slowly siphoning control from her and imani didn't want that.
she pushed against the coffee table, sending her body to press to his. the move worked. her back pressed to his chest and jameson immediately brought his hands from her hips to her breasts. imani rocked on his hips, ignoring the way he panted against her ear. his fingertips pinched and pulled at her nipples, his other hand moving to brush against her clit. imani slapped his hand away, turning her head to meet his gaze. "tell me this dick is mine."
he didn't hesitate. he repeated after her, hissing when she lifted her hips and then sent them back down again. his gaze went from her face to down their bodies, watching as he slipped in and out of her. "fuck, baby...it's yours. this your dick." he mumbled, "let me play with my pussy. please." jameson never begged. not usually. but she loved to hear the word 'please' falling from his mouth.
she increased her pace by planting her feet on the ground next to his. with her hands against his thighs, imani began to bounce on his lap. jameson lost sight of her breasts as she lifted up but his fingertips didn't lose muscle memory. they pulled and squeezed as she ride him recklessly. imani tightened over him, her draw dropping from how full she felt. from how good he felt hitting every single sensitive part inside her.
his hips met hers and their syncronized rocking turned into clashing. imani whimpered as jameson dropped his hand from her chest and pulled her leg higher. "fuck me hard." she panted, suddenly just as desperate as he was. their skin was hot against one another, friction in more ways than one. jameson grunted as he went deep -- she took all of him in with a sharp exhale. "fuck yes!" he cried out, feeling her walls squeeze around him. his forehead rested against the back of her neck as imani rode him. she could feel his heated pants against her skin and was shocked that she heard a whimper from the back of his throat.
"don't." she said harshly, shaking her head as she fought the release she felt building. "don't cum until i tell you to." this brought a growl from jameson's mouth. he let her leg go and tugged her back by her hair. imani cried out as he kept her stationary. the hand between her legs moved quickly, strumming at her clit until she squirmed and panted -- fighting off the release. imani shook her head, refusing to let go. jameson knew decided to play dirty.
he pinched her clit, satisfied when she yelped and tightened over his dick. he felt a rush of wet hit and gave a long moan of his own. she gushed around his length, squirting so quickly that neither of them knew what hit them. he kept fucking her, thrusting in and out as she yelled his name and came all over him...and herself...and the couch. she was breathless, disoriented as jameson released her hair. "say it." he muttered.
his hands were at her waist then, bending her forward and bouncing her hard. her eyes crossed and rolled before jameson slapped his hand against her thigh. "say it!" he grunted. imani finally remembered...he was waiting for her. she smiled, proud of herself that he got to suffer a little bit before she placed her hands over his own and used every last bit of energy she had to fuck his release from him. "you can cum, daddy. cum in me."
it took only a second for him to follow through. he reached up to cup her breast. her pussy clenched even tighter around him because of that. his fingers dug into her hips while he thrust harder into her warmth until finally...his entire body tensed. jameson kept her planted on his lap, rocking her back and forth as he finally came inside her with a strangled cry. for a few moments, they were both panting and moaning, lost in the pleasure that had consumed them. imani fell back against him as jameson's hands caressed her sides tenderly. they both started to come down from their high. imani reached for his hands, wrapping them around her body and jameson took the hint. he cuddled against her, stroking and soothing she relaxed more in his arms. the two didn't exchange words but imani knew the truth -- she was back on that rollercoaster ride with him.
she could hear him snoring. genie stared down at her phone with a grin. all she could see was ellington's chin. he had fallen asleep on facetime with her -- something he swore he wouldn't do but he did. he had made her promise not to go back to her shared suite with imani and he made sense. everybody knew how those two were. they'd probably be back in love for breakfast and then on the outs again by lunch but genie wanted them to have space to figure it out.
when she left the hotel bar, she went to the front desk and got her own room. it was much smaller than the suite but not short on comfort. so began her night with ellington. from ten pm (Italian time) until six am -- she had shared her time with ellington dupree. they talked about everything. music, her fashion career, their hobbies. not once did imani and jameson come up. not once did her father come up. it was a miracle.
ellington had never really been in her life. he was jamie's friend. she knew they were close. their bond was unmatched. but she had never gone out of her way to be ellington's friend. watching him doze on his couch while she ordered breakfast for herself indicated that they were...at least becoming friendly. he had a wicked sense of humor and genie was sure that she liked that.
suddenly, her smile dropped and she leaned away from the phone. she liked it. not him. right? she didn't like him. if he was jamie's friend -- practically like a brother -- then that meant they were a lot alike, right? she couldn't deal with a man like jameson. even if they weren't alike, dating within the friend group was messy. she had seen it first hand and didn't want to be apart of it. it took her a minute but she managed to force herself to hang up the phone.
so what she spent almost eight hours on the phone with a man. that didn't mean anything. it did not mean she had a crush on him.
#aaron pierre#megan thee stallion#aaron pierre fanfic#megan thee stallion fanfic#aaron pierre x black!oc#megan thee stallion x black!oc#black ocs#black!oc#oc fanfiction#celebrity fanfic#original characters#fic: neon lights#YALL THOUGHT WE FORGOT YALL?!?!#(okay so one of us fell asleep and threw the whole posting schedule off shhh it's okay)#it's a few hours late but pls enjoy the smutty smut smut#Spotify
101 notes
·
View notes
Text
zombie flaky for the soul
#im only like what#three days late?#XD#PLS ENJOY SOME ZOMBIE FLAKE#its been a hot minute since ive drawn them#its okay i dont think they feel pain#someone get them to a hospital#htf flaky#htf#happy tree friends#my art#halloween
418 notes
·
View notes
Text
*no rest for the wicked*
my teensy contribution to @thefreakandthehair's spicy six summer collection 💖 | word count: 3k | rating: T | ao3 link | also, this wouldn't exist if @chocoarts didn't send me a sketch that immediately set off sparklers in my brain so bless youuu ✨
Twenty-six hours. That’s how long Eddie has been up. Twenty-six hours and twelve minutes. The heaviness hanging in his eyes is medieval-level torturous, and the cramp in his left calf is probably permanent by now.
A sane person who enjoys sleeping might be asking, ‘Why? Why put yourself through this when there’s a perfectly decent bed down the hall?’ And Eddie would be forced to reply back with two, simple words:
Concert. Tickets.
That’s right, Eddie is actively murdering his own brain cells to win two vip tickets on the radio. Twenty-seven hours ago, it seemed like a grand idea. Genius, even. It’s free and minimal effort - he just has to call the station every hour on the dot. No biggie, right?
Ha, sure. Tell that to the muscles in his eyelids.
“How much longer do you have?” Chrissy asks, snagging a magazine from the stack on the couch.
Eddie checks his watch. Huffs out a laugh. “Let’s just say, I could watch the entire Star Wars trilogy including the credits for each one.”
“Translating to...?”
“Seven-ish hours.” Robin quickly chimes. She pops out of her bedroom and joins Chrissy’s side, instantly threading their hands together. They share a look, one that makes Eddie believe in nice things, even in his state of misery. It’s their superpower, injecting their optimistic outlook into the atmosphere. Infectious in the best way.
“I always forget that you speak fluent nerd.” Chrissy snorts.
“Ouch.” Robin gasps and pulls away, stomping off to their room. Too dramatic to be believable. “Get back to bed before I actually feel offended by that.”
Normally, Eddie is charmed by how hopelessly in love his roommates are with each other. But right now, they are his mortal enemies (well, tied with The Clock), because they get to sleep and he gets to stare at the lightbulb in the ceiling fan. Every now and then, it flickers, which never fails to startle him.
Good. He desperately needs the extra alertness.
Another forty-five minutes go by before anything noteworthy happens. Eddie’s other roommate gets off his night shift around one in the morning. The front door squeals as it opens, crackling all the adrenaline leftover in Eddie’s body.
“Scared the shit out of me, man.” Which could’ve been a literal statement if Eddie hadn’t just taken a bathroom break.
“Gotta get this door fixed.” Steve says. That’s what he always says when it creaks. The reaction never changes, always skating his fingers over the door hinges, mouth twisting to the side. Hands on his hips in disapproval. Eddie has to look away before Steve breaks out his insufferably cute ‘foot tap’ routine. “Hey - why are you still up?”
Ah, yes. Just what Eddie needed. A reminder that it’s fucking late. He finds the energy (or common decency, who knows) to point at the phone. Then to the radio.
“You’re still doing that, huh?”
Eddie nods twice.
“Damn, I’ve never heard you this quiet.” Steve sounds genuinely surprised. A little too smug for Eddie’s liking. “Didn’t know your mouth could stay in a straight line for this long.”
There it is. The rich boy smartassery that will never die. Always lurking in the depths of his genetic makeup.
Eddie claps, total deadpan.
The conversation lulls while Steve messes around in the kitchen for a bit. He’s noisily opening cabinets and clanking dishes around in the sink. Eventually, he walks back into the living room with two beers.
Both for him apparently. “Well, listen,” he starts out. Kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “I’m pretty wired after work, so if you need some company-”
“Six… hours… left.” Eddie musters out.
“Okay well, I doubt I’ll last that long. But I can give it a shot.”
Eddie smirks, raises both eyebrows. “There’s a dirty joke somewhere in there. Too tired to find it though.”
“Good to know the horny part of your mind is still awake.” Steve gives Eddie a small pat on the head.
“Oh? That’s a good thing?”
“Depends on who you ask.”
“I’m asking you.” It’s too direct, Eddie hears it. And now it’s just Out There - his inability to flirt in a subtle way. And yeah, he could blame it on sleep deprivation, but he’s never been known for his mastery of ambiguity so…
The pause goes on long enough for the light to flicker again, the room growing darker with it. Steve takes a swig of his drink and smiles. “It’s good to know, Ed.”
The light flickers even darker.
Eddie is fully awake after that. Which could’ve been part of Steve’s plan - stimulate his brain with flirty comments and keep him up with those melty smiles. It’s no secret that Eddie turns into a hair-twirling loser around this guy.
Even after living together for a year and seeing one another’s most disgusting habits, he still feels this way. Tight throat, stomach flips. Purely smitten in a way that would nauseate deadbeat poets.
In this moment, however, it’s a wonderful remedy to staying awake throughout the rest of the night. Much more effective than energy drinks and Tootsie Rolls.
Steve ends up on the floor, leaning against the edge of the couch. He sips another beer, recounting some bullshit that happened during his shift at the hotel. Eddie does his best impression of Listening to Steve’s stories, but the words are just buzzing around the glow of Steve’s hair and the shine on his lips. Nodding at seemingly appropriate times is all Eddie currently can offer.
“Sleeping with your eyes open, Munson?”
Eddie blinks hard. “Huh?”
“Creepy, but impressive.” Steve laughs, tapping his hand against Eddie’s leg. “You should add that to the Special Skills column on your resumé.”
“Bold of you to assume I have a resumé.”
They spend the next hour doing just that - adding useless skills to Eddie’s nonexistent resumé. It keeps them busy. Content. Steve smacks Eddie’s knee anytime he laughs, leaves his hand longer every time. Maybe that’s all in Eddie’s semi-dormant mind, especially since Steve shows casual affection to all of his friends. But the warmth of his palm is real enough to have Eddie fully committed to making Steve laugh as much as possible.
“What about… Expert Paper Clip Chain-Maker?” Steve suggests.
Eddie stares at the chain in his hand, the one he was oblivious to creating. He whips it around like a lasso and then shrugs. “A bit wordy.”
“So you’re saying length matters?”
“Christ on toast, Harrington. You’re awfully quick to jump to that conclusion, aren’t you?”
Steve doesn’t answer, just starts laughing again. Eddie didn’t even need to tell a shitty joke this time.
And when Steve’s hand hits his knee, sliding slightly up his thigh, Eddie laughs along with him. It’s the only way to cover up the heat rushing to his face.
Eddie enters the realm of delirium with three hours left in his challenge. He slumps onto the floor next to Steve, nudging his shoulder, staring into his sleep-heavy eyes. It’s four in the morning, inhibitions be damned.
“Do you think if you ever visit Europe, they’d call you Harring-metric-ton?” Eddie picks a piece of lint off Steve’s sleeve. Perfect excuse to reach out, move in closer.
Steve groans. “Yikes. But yes, that question keeps me up at night.”
“So that’s why you’re still awake. See, I knew it wasn’t because of my silly little concert tickets.”
As soon as the words leave his lips, Eddie convinces himself that it’s the truth. Which is so dumb, so stupid. But this seed of insecurity keeps him going, fully projecting his assumptions onto Steve’s harmless comment. Somewhere deep down, buried underneath his exhaustion, Eddie knows it was a joke. But he can’t seem to shut up anymore.
“The riddle has been solved, folks! We finally know why Stevie here is still awake.” Eddie exclaims, flinging his arms out to the side. “Alert Scooby and the gang at once! Mystery Incorporated can finally pack up their magnifying glasses and pursue careers with better health insurance. Ones that covers vision costs this time. It’s what dear, ol' Velma deser-”
“Eddie.” Steve places a hand on Eddie’s arm, holding him still. Was he moving? Oh god, was he shaking?
Fucking mortifying.
Steve’s thumb swipes across Eddie’s skin, tracing diagonal lines back and forth. “You’re rambling.”
“And you’re…” Eddie loses focus. He looks down at the hypnotic patterns that Steve is making. “There. Doing that.”
Steve stops briefly to flip Eddie’s hand over, starts tracing the lines in his palm instead. The pressure makes Eddie’s heart lurch up into his throat. He can feel it thumping in his neck, faster with every stroke of Steve’s fingers. All he wants to do is close his hand around them, keep Steve there for the rest of the night. Longer if he’d let him.
“I can stop if it’s weird.” Steve’s voice is so much quieter than it was earlier.
Don’t stop. Eddie thinks. Can’t say it like that because gross. Humiliating and gross. “It’s not weird.”
Steve keeps his focus on the motion, Eddie does the same. They stay like this for a while, just watching. Intently staring over the invisible lines like pages in a novel. Eddie is pretty sure he’s breathing too loud, can hear it above the whistle in the air conditioner. Wonders if Steve can hear it too.
Probably.
“That’s not why I’m staying awake.” Steve says, never breaking the pattern.
“No?”
“It’s who I’m staying awake for.”
Steve finally stops, right in the center of Eddie’s hand. The air in the room goes dense, weighted with acknowledgment. Something has changed and Eddie can feel it everywhere.
He tilts forward, pulling his gaze away from his hand and up at Steve’s lips. If he weren’t stuck between half-awake and total-delirium, Eddie would just do it. Kiss Steve the way he’s always wanted to. Syrupy slow and deep. Savoring every second.
He could do it right now, right this second. But his focus starts drifting as he closes his eyes. “Did Chrissy tell you?” Eddie grumbles, almost unintelligible.
“Tell me what?”
Eddie’s head falls, landing somewhere on Steve’s chest. He inhales the scent of laundry detergent (because Steve and Chrissy are the only avid laundry-doers in the apartment). It’s so soothing, drawing him further into a dreamlike place.
“Tell me what, Ed?”
“That I…” Eddie is nearly asleep before he can finish the thought. The confession:
‘That I’m crazy about you.’
Sunlight hits Eddie first, startles him so much that he jolts upward. Fully awake. It takes a few seconds of furiously rubbing his eyes before the dread kicks in.
Morning.
It’s morning.
“Shit.”
Eddie fell asleep.
Steve fell asleep.
“Shitshitshit. So many shits!” He fumbles through the labyrinth of blankets and pillows around him, snatching his watch from the coffee table:
10:24 a.m.
“Goddamnit!”
Eddie sinks back down to the floor, clutching the phone that serves him no purpose anymore. All of those hours of waiting and calling for nothing. Even if general admission wasn’t already sold out, it’s not like Eddie could afford tickets on his own. He can barely keep up with his share of the rent. Chrissy had to cover for his grocery run last week and he still hasn’t paid her back.
It’s just so expected too - for him to fuck up like this. Always letting opportunities slip through the cracks, making careless mistakes. No one will be surprised that he failed at such a simple task like calling a fucking radio station.
Eddie sets the phone back on the table and cleans up the living room in a daze. Every now and then, he mutters under his breath about being a total moron. He stays relatively quiet for the most part though. No use in throwing a bitchfest while Steve is blissfully conked out three feet away.
Of course he looks good sleeping too, even in the midst of Eddie’s breakdown. Unfair.
Just before heading back to his room, Eddie hears that familiar door creak. Same one that always sets off Steve’s inner handyman tendencies.
He looks back to see Chrissy padding towards him with a blanket wrapped around her. For someone who hasn’t had their mood-altering cup of coffee yet, she looks extremely pleased to see him. Maybe she knows about the fate of the concert tickets. Maybe this is an early-risers pity party.
Fucking yay.
“Chris, please don’t try to-”
His words are muffled by Chrissy throwing her arms (and blanket cape) around him. She’s so bouncy, the way she always gets with Robin whenever their favorite song comes on at the karaoke bar. He pats her on the back and clears his throat, still trying to piece together what this exchange could be about. However, Eddie is functioning on a few hours of sleep, so his cognitive skills are groggy at best.
She gives him one more squeeze and then looks up, positively gleaming. “I knew it! I knew it would finally happen!”
“That I’d screw up for the umpteenth time in my life? Gee thanks, Chris.” Eddie says.
“What are you talking about?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you and Steve!” She whisper-yells back.
Was she snooping on them last night? He wouldn’t put it past her, snoopiness is the foundation of their friendship. Well, whatever Chrissy thought she saw, she’s wrong. Sure, Steve and Eddie flirted, both letting some potentially mutual feelings slip out.
But it was all cut short by Eddie passing out mid-flirt. God knows how Steve took that reaction. Probably assumed Eddie was so bored that he would rather sleep than makeout with him. Or worse, that Eddie was pretending to sleep to let him down easy.
Christ, he doesn’t wanna think about that right now. Not while he’s still mourning the loss of his precious tickets.
“Hate to break it to you, honeyjam, but nothing happened.” Eddie shakes his head, gesturing to Steve who hasn’t budged from the recliner. “It’s just me over here and Steve over there. No conjunction connecting us together in that way.”
He can already tell Chrissy isn’t buying it. She’s getting that little forehead wrinkle right above her eyebrows, just like an angry cartoon character. Her best attempt at intimidation. “You didn’t see what I saw.”
“Gay desperation?”
“No, you jackass. Come here!”
Chrissy yanks Eddie into his bedroom, demanding for him to lock the door. He listens, mainly because the intimidation is starting to work a little. They sit at the edge of the bed and she begins to explain everything she saw:
Steve constructing a wall of blankets and pillows around Eddie to ensure he slept comfortably. Steve waiting by the phone, tapping his foot in that insufferably cute way that Eddie loves so much. Steve scoring the tickets, celebrating quietly to himself.
“How long were you standing at the door, weirdo?” Eddie teases her to avoid the way his stomach is twisting around her words.
Chrissy shushes him and squeals. “And he kissed your cheek!”
“Liar.”
“He did, I swear! He kissed you on the cheek or the chin or the nose. I don't know which one for sure because my view was obstructed by all of your hair.”
Eddie instinctively combs his fingers through a few strands, undoing the knotted pieces. Not all of them, but enough to keep his hands busy while he thinks through this. Processing. “And you’re sure it wasn’t a dream?”
“Positive.”
“What about a hallucination? Didn’t Byers make a batch of those infamous brownies again?”
Chrissy gives a deep sigh. “Whatever. You’re hopeless.” She shrugs the blanket back over her arms and heads toward the door. More than a fair assessment, Eddie can’t argue even if he wanted to (he always does).
He stares at the line of posters along his wall, letting Chrissy’s words replay over and over. Imagining what it might have felt like. If Steve’s breath was warm or if his lips were soft. Eddie wonders how it looked to have Steve dipping down to his level. Staying so quiet, so careful not to disturb him. The visuals swarm his head until there’s nothing left but Steve.
Him and Steve. Connecting them together in that way after all.
So, Eddie gets up and walks back into the living room. He takes in the view of Steve curled up in the recliner, mouth slightly parted open. Chest falling with every sniffle, not quite a snore.
There’s so many emotions while looking at him. Eddie can’t just pin one down to fully comprehend what's going on. All he can do is repeat the scene that’s occupying his mind, settling in his bones.
“Here,” he whispers, placing another blanket across Steve’s lap. It’s feathery gentle, more than he intends for it to be. So gentle that Steve doesn’t shift or stir.
Eddie takes a deep breath and bends down, close enough to notice all the little details. The ones he’s been too sheepish to indulge in before last night.
The tiny hairs on Steve’s forearm. The creases in his t-shirt. The bit of dried toothpaste on his chin. None of it should make his cheeks feel this flushed, but they do.
He lets the rush of bravery wash through him as he kisses Steve on the tip of his nose. Just the way Steve must’ve done to him. It’s swift, lighter than he means for it to be. Barely touching. But it’s enough to switch his heart rate up a few notches, pulsing jumping in his wrist.
Eddie steps away, waiting to see if Steve wakes up. Not entirely sure if he wants that or if he’d rather keep this memory to himself.
“Thanks… by the way.” Eddie adds, brushing the tips of his fingers over Steve’s hand. Wishing he could trace the lines in his palm. Rewind back to last night and pause it there indefinitely. “I’ll tell you again when you’re up, but yeah.”
“Thank you, Steve Harrington.”
#steddie#steddie fic#steve harrington#eddie munson#slight buckingham because I said so#lexssummerfanworkschallenge#biggest of shoutouts to lex for giving us this space to create and share together!!!#is the sleep depravation making Eddie good at flirting???#or is it all in his overactive imagination???#the world may never know#also Eddie is wearing one of Robin's shirts bc he never does laundry#that's not relevant - it's just a brainworm that he ironically wears her marching band tees#okay okay pls enjoy 💖#(and pretend I'm in a timezone where it's still August pls)
719 notes
·
View notes
Text
clean me off, i'm so dirty babe ch. 1
oz cobb x reader / 1837 words / sfw (for now) / chapter 2 (nsfw!)
summary: you work at a dry cleaner that oz frequents. he's one of your favorite regulars.
tags: gn reader though oz does call them 'doll,' soooo fluffy -- next chapter will be a lil more nasty tho ;)
You’ve been working in the combination dry cleaner and laundromat in the Diamond District long enough to be able to suss out when someone’s a regular businessman and when someone’s…well, not.
The regular who identified himself as Oz Cobb was, decidedly not. However, you could tell that he wasn’t like the others.
The first and most obvious sign that threw you initially was that he handled this business himself. Other people whose money came from underground had lackeys, or more typically, lackeys of lackeys to drop off and pick up their clothes. You couldn’t count the amount of times a twenty-something in thrifted boots came in with a stack of $4000 suits. It wasn’t subtle.
Oz was different, though. His suits were expensive, but it was usually the same set of four or five paired with maybe seven or eight shirts – occasionally there would be a new suit in there, though no more often than a regular-person banker or lawyer or, you supposed, club owner.
He was kind. That was something else that set him apart from most of the other businessmen who came through. Probably most importantly, Oz always tipped you and often it was very well. But his kindness extended beyond that – he smiled when he came in, chatted when you were matching his order slip (which he always remembered to bring) to his clothes, and never rushed you through the scanning and checkout process.
When he dropped off his clothes, he always pointed out stains he needed work on, apologizing for them (and you, of course, pretended not to know that the stains on his crisp white shirts were definitely blood. You also pointedly ignored how often he came in with shirts splattered with something that was definitely blood.)
And, unlike a lot of these messy not-businesspeople, his pockets were always empty. You had a habit of running into things that you shouldn’t have tucked in those blazer or trouser pockets, be it cash in hundreds, pills, or occasionally a bullet, which you always put in a small plastic bag to be discreetly tucked into the blazer pocket later. Usually when you saw that same suit again, it came with a massive tip.
Oz wasn’t messy like that though, he was clearly meticulous with his clothing and his belongings – not like someone who could afford to be careless.
You grew to look forward to seeing Oz, he and the unmistakable car he always pulled up in were like a breath of fresh air.
One day, a completely dead afternoon, he came in at around his usual time for pickup. You didn’t need to look at his slip to know where his things were, “Hey Oz,” you said as he walked in, the bell on the door ringing behind him, “how’s your Tuesday?”
“It’d be a lot better without this heat, I gotta tell’ya. How’re you?”
You came out with his suits, hanging them on the rack by the counter and catching that he wasn’t wearing one of his usual blazer. You’re not sure you’ve ever really seen his body before this and were you not on the clock you’d probably be blushing, but you maintain professional stoicism, clearing your throat, “I’m alright, it’s been very slow today. Pros and cons, you know.”
He nods and you take the first suit to scan it in when something catches your eye, “Shit – ah, pardon my language,” you say, hurriedly flipping through the short stack of suits in front of you.
“Everything alright?”
“Ugh, my boss let the new guy do these while I was out and he didn’t crease any of your pants. I’m so sorry, Sir, I can have them done in about twenty minutes if you don’t mind waiting, but I can give you a discount on them if you need to head out. I’m so sorry again.”
“‘S alright, Doll. Shit happens, ain’t the end of the world.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, glancing at it before looking at you with those big brown eyes, “To be honest with’ya? I really don’t feel like going back out there. It’s nice and cool in here, and I got a little time anyway. If you have time to take care of them now, I’ve got time to wait.”
“Thank you, Sir. I appreciate your uh – “ not being a total asshole about this “ – flexibility.”
“All good. And you don’t have to call me ‘Sir,’ Oz is fine.”
“Okay, Oz,” you smile, “I just put on some coffee, would you like some?”
“Honestly, that sounds wonderful. Thank you.”
You give him another smile, “You can come get it, it's just to the left here,” you say, pointing to the machine and mini fridge just past the space to get behind the counter.
He looks at it and laughs a little as he makes his way over, “VIP treatment, unless you’re this nice to all your customers?”
You chuckle, shaking your head and going to the creaser with his suits, hanging them up on the rack next to it, “You might be the first. But you’re in here like clockwork and you always remember your slip, so you get the privilege of the secret menu.”
“Well, color me flattered,” You get to work, as does he, and it’s silent until he opens the fridge. “This caramel macchiato creamer thing any good?”
“Oh yeah, that’s mine, it’s my favorite,” you say, carefully setting the first pair of his pants in the machine. “It’s a little sweet, they do a good job with the caramel, though.”
“Hm.” You continue to work, practically on autopilot, and you hear him hum happily, “This is excellent, I’ll have to get some for my place.”
“Good! I’m glad you like it.” He walks back to the waiting area in front of the counter. You work some more before calling out to him, “Any plans this weekend?”
“Eh, the club’s been real busy lately. Which is great, I’m thrilled about it but you know – doesn't leave a lot of time for rest. Barely been sleepin’. Anyway, I’ll probably be there, keepin’ an eye on things. Gave myself tomorrow off, maybe I’ll try to rest then.”
“I hope you catch up on your sleep, it’s so important,” you say. “That and self-care, do you get massages?”
“Not really my thing.”
“Probably no facials either?”
He laughs, a full yet bright sound, “No facials either.”
“They’re nice! Especially if you work hard, which I know you must.”
“Maybe I oughta listen to you, you know coffee. My clothes always look good when I get them back, too.”
You beam, “I’m so glad to hear that.”
You work on the rest of his pants, chatting with Oz as you do. It’s easy conversation between the two of you, swapping restaurant recommendations and making other small talk. You’re about to start the last pair and think about asking him out, innocently enough, but then his phone rings and he takes the call.
He’s speaking Spanish and while you’re not fluent, you were good at it through school so you can understand the gist. Someone close to Oz, especially if his face was any indication, had been found down the street. There’s a brief argument about her medications, about long-term care for her. Oz hangs up with a deep sigh. “Sorry, Doll, that was my shift lead at the club. Needs me in for a really important meeting, completely forgot about it. You know how it is. Would I be able to come in a little later and pick these up?”
You suspect this isn’t the first time that Oz has lied to you, but it’s the first time you’re able to see it. You turn around and give him a smile, “Absolutely, no trouble at all.”
“I’ll be back before you close. Thanks for understandin’.”
True to his word, he does come back in the evening. You weren’t sure if he would; you imagine he has other things on his mind. He looks much calmer than when he left earlier, his smile contagious. “Welcome back,” you say, moving to get his suits.
“Glad to be back,” he laughs, coming to the counter. You hang his suits on the rack and he breaks the silence, placing a sequined dress on the counter between you. “I’ve got a question for ya, do you do repairs?”
“What do you need?” You ask, looking at the dress.
“Well, it needs to be cleaned first, it’s – it’s my sister’s, she asked me to take care of it but I’m not sure something like this can even go in a washing machine. Anyway, there’re some missing sequins – where’d they go…” he murmurs softly as he turns over the fabric until he reaches a small but obvious section of missing sequins toward the bottom, running his fingers over it. “Right here, would you be able to fill in the gap here?”
You take the dress, looking over the spot and nodding, “Absolutely, that’s no problem. It’ll take a little longer because I think I’ll have to order these sequins and I’ll have to do it by hand – you can with the sewing machine, but I don’t think it looks as nice.”
“You’re a lifesaver. She was real upset about it, I told her though, I said ‘I know where I can take this and they’ll make it good as new.’”
You chuckle, “I admire your faith in me. When does she need it back by?”
“Oh, whenever. I don’t think she’s got anything coming up for it.”
“Awesome. I can call you with a price estimate once I look at the new sequins.”
“Sounds good.”
Oz paid his bill for the rest of his suits, thanking you again. “Today was kinda – didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. But this made it better, thank you.”
He turns to leave and head for the door but you stop him, calling his name. Maybe it was the way he thanked you, maybe it was his confidence in your skill, maybe it was that he liked the coffee but before you can stop yourself, you’re writing down your number on the back of a dry clean ticket, stepping out from behind the counter. You’ve never really looked at him this closely before, your gaze flickering to the tufts of hair peeking out from the undone button on his shirt. He’s looking at you curiously and you will yourself to speak.
“Um – “ you clear your throat, handing over the paper “ – that’s my personal cell. In case she needs her dress back early or…in case you want to get dinner sometime?”
Oz smiles but it’s not one of his customer service interaction smiles – it’s something real, like when he was sipping your coffee earlier. “Well look’it that, you just keep making my night better and better. I’ll text you about plans later tonight, this week’s a little busy but I’m sure I can make some time.”
You smile brightly, “Perfect. I’ll be around.”
“Have a good night, Doll.”
#okay fine#oz cobb#x reader#the penguin hbo#i used to work in a laundromat and i'd do my shifts by myself and idk if i had a regular like oz it would've made my whole day <3#that job was crazy lmao i had to quit because i developed eczema and it wouldn't stop getting worse. still have it but i think it was worth#it if it means bringing this fic into the world xD#anyway pls enjoy 1.8k words of yearning for this man jmbjggjnb#oh also title taken from mcr bc of course it was
69 notes
·
View notes
Text
Romance in Hogwarts Legacy - How would it work?
When it comes to romance in the Hogwarts Legacy game, I do not feel like it would have fit at all during any of the storylines. We already have so many and quite a few of them were rushed, unfinished, or had unsatisfactory endings to begin with.
MC is faced with trials, tribulations, and so many other issues throughout the entire game-- I have a feeling that romance is the last thing on their mind. I mean, they're literally having to go through goblins and poachers every other day.
Now, no romance doesn't mean MC couldn't have been like "Oh Sebastian is cute", "Ominis is cute" or "Natty is cute" like take your pick, MC definitely could've had feelings for them; but that's completely up to the creator of the MC.
When it comes to canon, in-game during the storylines, I don't think romance would've fit well at all.
HOWEVER, I completely believe that it would be nice to have some romantic gestures or options after you finish the game (at the very least, the main storyline).
I'm personally completely fine with not having romance in this game since my imagination just allows me to make up for it LOL. But I do think it'd be cute and nice to have options like that.
To my knowledge, there was some romantic gestures put in the game files that were supposed to be in the game but didn't make it to the final cut so I'm thinking something like that.
Okay I'm done yapping now LOL. Lmk your thoughts on this!!! (remember to be kind y'all, this is just a game LOL)
#imagine they did have like#serious romance during the game#and you're blowing up poachers and suddenly careless whisper starts playing#okay im done brainrotting now#im not funny LOL#hogwarts legacy#hl#sebastian sallow#ominis gaunt#hogwarts legacy mc#mc#garreth weasley#poppy sweeting#natty onai#leander prewett#amit thakkar#Hogwarts legacy game#Hogwarts legacy fandom#AM I MAKING ANY SENSE OR AM I YAPPIN#the latter probably#anyway#enjoy#btw I wrote this in like 2 seconds so pls dont be a hater im tired rn
110 notes
·
View notes
Text
florian's always struggled to make friends so he didn't really have any back in galar... uh, actually — it might be more accurate is that he USED to have one...
headcanon explanation + bonus under the cut!
like mentioned above, florian has always struggled a lot with making friends. while he's a kindhearted and friendly kid, he can come across as kinda intense to others, ( especially when discussing his interests, ) and that's led to him often being alienated amongst his peers. though he's grown used to being by himself and has learned to not care if others dislike him, he still hopes that he can find at least a few people to connect with outside of his family. it's a hope that's always been present, ever since he was growing up in wyndon.
of course, he wasn't the only loner amongst his childhood peers. around 7 years old, he found a friend in bede fee, who attended the same primary school as him. bede themself wasn't exactly the friendliest kid out there and often had spats with people who made fun of them for their family's low-income status, but florian managed to get them to warm up to him. the two got along pretty well and found comfort in having a friend that seemed to understand them, both being lonely kids who were often picked on by others. after a while, they became pretty much inseparable as they frequently played, read, and laughed together. to florian, it didn't matter that people picked on him just as long as he had bede there to be his friend. bede shared a similar sentiment... at least, at first he did.
admittedly, florian has a habit of resting on his laurels when it comes to things he doesn't have an interest in improving. ( it doesn't matter if he isn't as good of a battler as his sister, all he needs is to be strong enough to keep himself safe during field research. it doesn't matter if he's ostracized amongst his peers and looked down upon, he's alright as long as he has someone to call a friend. etc, etc. ) bede, however, couldn't keep themself from caring about their place in the pecking order. they were sick of others looking down on them, sick of others thinking they were better than them. they just couldn't understand how florian could stand people treating him poorly without getting angry. over time, frustration and resentment towards his attitude festered inside them. these feelings were only exacerbated by their struggles at home and being sent to the orphanage. while they would still call each other friends, their bond had definitely become strained.
everything came to a head when they were both 11 years old, when rose visited bede's orphanage and his acknowledgement caused a major shift in their personality. after all, someone that important seeing their potential surely meant that they better than their peers, right? they soon became much more pompous and rude in nature. florian still stayed close by despite bede's worsening attitude towards him, but it wasn't before long until all of their pent-up feelings came flooding out. their friendship ended with massive fight, with bede telling florian that they were sick of being weighed down by an " annoying pest " like him. while they expected for him to take their cruel remarks in stride like he always did with everyone else, bede couldn't help but feel a little guilty when florian ran off in tears. the two stopped talking after that fight and ever since then, there's always a worry in the back of florian's mind that his friends will eventually get sick of him like bede did. ( thankfully, the friends he's made since then have helped make him feel a lot more secure in their relationships. )
apologies for the long-winded explanation, here's the bonus i promised to make up for how sad this hc got :
the goofy ass side effect of coming up with this headcanon is realizing that they accidentally shaped each others' taste in guys rip
#hi pls enjoy my extremely niche headcanon#gotta love early childhood friendships that irreversibly fuck up your ability to connect w/ others#( totally not talking from experience nope nah )#i like to imagine them meeting again in their 20s and acting like catty exes ( despite never dating or having rom feelings for each other )#okay i'm feeling exhausted i need to sleep#pokemon#pokemon scarlet and violet#pokemon sword and shield#pkmn scarvio#pkmn swsh#pokemon bede#rival bede#pokemon florian#trainer florian#hc : (pkmn) mjverse#chara : florian russel cavallari#chara : bede fee#chara : victor pottinger#chara : ortega regino#🎨 : mj draws#🕰️ : scheduled post
341 notes
·
View notes
Text
if everything with varric weren't enough to make rye go the level of ape shit at solas that he does (and goodness don't get me wrong it was more than enough!), forcing him to sit alone with himself in the fade and wonder if he really just saw lucanis die right in front of him with no way to know for sure added kill bill sirens in his head so loud the voice of the Maker Himself could not be heard over them if He personally peeped through the blanket of the dark to cry 'hold, hold'
(That no compunctious visitings of nature shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between the effect and it. indeed. maybe you should have thought a bit harder before making me quite so much in your own image. bitch)
#literally what was the purpose of that other than pure cruelty. solas. SOLAS#dragon age#dragon age: the veilguard#dragon age: the veilguard spoilers#dragon age spoilers#lucanis dellamorte#rook x lucanis#rookanis#solas#oc: Ellaryen Ingellvar#Dynamic: That my keen knife see not the wound it makes#gonna make that my solas & rye tag I think. I must be cringe to be free 2: the even freer sequel#aiding and macbething. ahaha. hm. I originally wrote this at like two in the morning pls have patience with me#can you tell I'm kind of enjoying getting to go full cathartic vengeful sicko mode on this one vicariously lol#I'm getting it all out of my system so I'm ready to put on my 'compassion and forgiveness ARE important actually' gloves#for the next run when I'm redeeming him fhsdakj yeah okay I will acknowledge the clear spelling out in the narrative#that the cycle of violence and revenge *must* be broken at some point and someone must be the first to do it. I will do that.#tomorrow.#today I am digging two graves. one on top of the other so I get to bury you twice as deep and you won't get back out you *motherfucker* <3
39 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mini DID book review: One Of Us Knows: a thriller
Author: Alyssa Cole
Publication date: 2024
Diagnosis of DID? Yes, the system has known for a while
Fiction of nonfiction: fiction
Is the person with DID portrayed as evil? Complicated but ultimately no; its one of the major plot points
Major trigger warnings:
death (fighting, blood, some gore but its not described much)
implied sexual assault (nothing described)
Self harm
Misogyny(major plot point)
Abelism
Racism (major plot point also)
Stalking
Kidnapping/mishandled foster care
Dormancy of parts (major plot point)
Parts being kidnapped/speculated to be killed off (major plot point)
Rituals taking place (not religious but has to do with everything on this list)
Covid being a thing(major plot point in the first part, lots of anxiety about covid)
Ratings to how I feel personally
Triggering(0 is nothing at all, 10 is could not handle reading this): 4-5 (not a gentle book but not gratuitous
System dynamics(0 is this is bizarrely off, 10 is holy shit this is a book about me): 7-8 (the conflict between parts is very well written, and so is the understanding of how deep the relationships go)
Switching(0 is doesnt work like this, 10 is this is a book about me): 4? (Nearly all of the switches are blackouts)
System communication(0 is never experienced this, 10 is this is a book about me): 8-9 (we talk to eachother like this a lot)
Inner world dynamics(0 is never experienced this, 10 is this is a book about me): 7 (theres a lot of the inner world, like half the chapters happen inside! However the physics of it were a little too realistic at times to what could happen with me, like i dont have to walk or run to get places personally)
Comorbidity with other disorders(mental or physical)(0 is there are none, 10 is i experience all of this): 5 (there is no physical ailments that come with having DID in this book, which isnt a necessity but many people who do have it also have disabilities so it feels bizzare when there are none. Theres anxiety, depression and faint mentions of disordered eating in this book)
Brief thoughts on this book:
The BadDay system(first book ive read where the system has a system name) has been well-established for many years by now, knowing about their DID, communicating with their others for some time.
The host turned persecutor has been dormant for 6 years now, missing out on covid, while the rest of the system had been active online and functioning in lockdown. Now Ken(the persecutor) is back, with the mysterious disapearence of the previous host and caretaker, Della. All eyes are on Ken wondering what the fuck happened and nobody knows how they landed a job as a caretaker of a mysterious castle on an island, that just happens to be the exact same castle from their inner world.
Mystery and thrilling things ensue as Ken goes through the motions of coming out of dormancy and no parts wanting them there, a blossoming romance with an outsider and a complicated romance on the inside too, all tied together neatly with the strange happenings on the island and the trust that owns it.
I don’t really know how to review for a thriller book, because I don’t tend to read thrillers. But the mysteries were mysterious to even me, who can see where plots are going with DID books typically. And the thrills were thrilling. I couldn’t put the book down, I kept wanting to sink in more and more
I was exceptionally pleased that the author didn’t play safe with the DID as some authors tend to when they’re writing something with modern understanding. There wasnt so much shameful secrecy around the disorder, and the questions and impacts were hard-hitting as she delved into things that I’d be worried about posting about myself. Like the dormancies impacting other parts, parts not wanting the host around. Romance and sexuality between parts. The unsavory and the honest, but also the depth of how much each of them mattered in the system and how much they cared for eachother. It was really satisfying to read! The inclusion of how social media effects people with DID nowadays was really nice to include too, and again, I haven’t yet seen any other media to employ the use of system names like how many do in social media now.
I also really really love that the story was just as much the inner world as it was the outer, as most books have the happenings between parts more hidden.. Having the two stories run side by side makes it feel like this characters life is their DID, as it often is for many of us. Idk I’m jazzed about this, this is what I wanted with DID in media. The DID actually mattering as more than a plot device
The only thing I can really fault it on is the constant blackout with switches. But to be fair, this is implied not to be their normal, and ethe events of this book are extremely high-stress situations, so I appreciate that the weight of that is stressed rather than it being another case of an author just not having personal experience enough to know. (She doesnt have the experience to know, but this was a neat way to bridge the gap)
Overall a great book. Not a fluffy one, and since the main plot revolves around the potential of the main character being the DID Killer, inside and out. So please tread carefully if the questioning of such things is hard for you. And also a thriller, so there are thriller things like violence and tension and things outside of a normal slice of life
Would I recommend someone with DID read this? YES! I do feel like this was written with a lot of care for people with DID
#bunnidid reviews#one of us knows#alyssa cole#dissociative identity disorder#did in media#actuallydid#complex dissociative disorder#otherwise specified dissociative disorder#cdd system#did system#cdd media#did media#i just finished this like an hour or two ago pls enjoy my new review style#do u like my new reviewing style? writing out the entirity of the media is what puts me off reviewing#it just snowballed so i could explain myself more and more#and also i hope the relatability scores are okay#obvs theres more aspects to DID than that but those are just what i could come up with on a whime
53 notes
·
View notes
Text
oh my god im so fuckjng sorry i've bin severely slacking off on mt casuality textp osts and for what?? my gucking job???? i'm so fucking soery
[1] [2] [3] [4] [5]
#bbc casualty#soap posting on main once more boys#nicole piper#ngozi okoye#cam mickelthwaite#teddy gowan#ryan firth#stevie nash#siobhan mckenzie#dylan keogh#i am 100900000% a bi teddy truther#let him out!!!!!#i am also of cohrse a nicole/ngozi truther pls bbc let them kiss#okay and while we're at it i am a bi and also autistic stevie truther#and cam is my favourite character in case u could not tell because. i love him.#okay but fr i am also a nervous guy who most people find at least a little bit annoying so u know i got a soft spot for him#anyhway enjoy#motley don't look#u don't like this show
59 notes
·
View notes
Text
Pretty
Eddie Munson x reader
Contains: no plot just filth, sub!Eddie Munson, bound hands, edging, slight overstim, cumplay, ass play, aftercare, pet names (Eddie is called Baby), no gender descriptors for reader (your thighs are mentioned but not size or shape just that Eddie finds them beautiful)
This is unedited I wrote this in a blur idk how many words maybe 1k ill add that at a later time
18+ only!
"You look so pretty like this."
Eddie shudders as he feels your breath against the back of his neck. He looks ahead into the mirror, pupils blown wide at the scene before him.
You sit behind Eddie. A saccharine grin on your face. His back is flush with your front, he can feel every inhale and exhale you take. Your beautiful thighs he wants to bite are on either side of his. Your ankles are locked around his, holding him in place. Eddie's hands are bound with his belt, resting on your thigh.
Eddie's shirt is pushed up, belly button piercing glinting in the low light. The red of his piercing matches the red on his face that runs down his neck. If he had his shirt off, you'd be able to see the blush bleed into the top of his chest. He shivers as you blow against his ear.
"Look how pretty you are Eds."
He lets out a whine as your fingers delicately trail his length. His cock is flushed a deep red, almost purple at the top from how turned on he is. Slightly curved to the left, the tip leaking so much cum he's practically glistening. Your fingers ghost over the slit and his hips jump forward, only for your touch to leave. Teasing him again.
It was torture of the best kind. He isn't sure how long you have been teasing him. Tears in his eyes from pleasure and annoyance. Your hand wrapped firmly around him bringing him to the precipice only to let go before he reaches the edge. Tantalizing touches that sway the line of not enough and too much.
"Say you look pretty Baby."
He gasps as your hand wraps firmly around him again, hoping you won't remove your hand again. His nails dig into your thigh, trying to grab hold of anything he can. He can feel your smirk as you press a kiss to where his shoulder meets his neck. "I uh I look pretty," Eddie's voice is raspy.
"The prettiest boy." You murmur. "The fuck the prettiest boy." Eddie whimpers. A tear rolls down his cheek and he watches as you swipe it away. "Color?" You pause. "Green so green please don't stop," Eddie babbles slightly, turning to face you. You smile sweetly as your hand forces his jaw back to facing the mirror.
With your ankles locked around Eddie's, you spread your legs, thus causing his to spread wide open. Its obscene, being fully on display. "Awh," you coo at him, making him whine. Eddie shivers as you slide your hand up and down his shaft, your other hand gently squeezing his heavy balls.
Eddie jumps as you trail your fingers lower. You lightly press against his hole, just enough for him to feel it. It takes him a minute to realize the moan he hears was from himself. His cock leaks another spurt of precum, dribbling down your hand as you continue to jerk him off.
You remove the pressure teasing his hole and swipe up the cum that has leaked onto your hand. You coat your finger with it before pressing against Eddie's tight hole again. Your gently slide your finger in.
Eddie can feel his eyes crossing as his mouth drops open. He can feel you pump your finger in and out of him in tandem with the hand that is stroking him up and down. "Gonna come for me? You look so good baby. Look so perfect like this," you kiss the shell of his ear. Eddie nods, barely able to open his eyes. Barely able to think of anything as he feels the warm pleasure spreading throughout his limbs.
His hips snap up as a loud whine leaves him. His brain goes silent as pleasure comes over him in waves. You never falter your pace, its almost too much as he keeps cumming. It's the hardest and longest he has ever come, it almost knocks the breath out of him. His senses hone in on the euphoria he feels, numbing his mind to everything but the pleasure.
He pants and gasps as he slowly comes back to himself. He's barely aware he's holding onto your thigh with a death grip. "Did so good baby, so good." You murmur. "Uh-huh." Eddie can feel his heart beating in his chest. His limbs feel like jello. He's pretty sure if he tried to stand his legs would shake.
You slowly move out from behind him (wait when did you stop touching him?). Eddie opens his eyes, tracking you as you grab a water bottle and wash cloth on the bedside table. You wet the wash cloth before wiping the cum off him. Eddie tries not to but jumps from still being sensitive. You murmur apologies, as if you have anything to apologize for. If Eddie's tongue didn't feel of lead, he would sing your praises.
You toss the wash cloth away and quickly undo the belt around Eddie's wrists. Even though there isn't a mark, you take your time massaging his wrists and hands. You gently place a kiss on the back of both of his hands. If he wasn't already completely in love with you, that would have done it.
Eddie can barely focus on your words, barely think through how good he feels. He's aware you are holding the water bottle up to his lips and he drinks greedily. You swipe away the water that dribbles down his chin.
Eddie curls into you, head against your chest listening to your heart. You slowly stroke his hair, comforting him. He's aware you're whispering to him, praising him. All he can think about is how loved he feels in this moment. How safe he is in your arms. How he can fully let go and know you have him. How he knows you love him with your whole being, just as he loves you.
#Idk how to end this anyways uhhh idk what happened but I had a vision and it took a hold of me and here it is#I was writing this in a blur and when I opened my eyes I stared widely at this and I cant edit it i am too into it#I dont even know how to fully tag this BUT I TRUST THIS WILL REACH THE RIGHT PEOPLE OKAY#anyways uh have this#everyone please don't yell at me pls enjoy this i-#Eddie Munson x reader#Eddie Munson x you#Eddie Munson x y/n#Eddie Munson/you#Eddie Munson/reader#Sub!Eddie Munson#Sub!Eddie Munson x reader#Sub!Eddie Munson x you#Jade is Talking#If I missed something in the contents be kind to me when you tell me pls I am sensitive just like Eddie is from you giving him pleasure
180 notes
·
View notes