Hey! Hope Your Having A Good Day/night. I Was Just Wondering How To Make The Sentences Blend Together

hey! hope your having a good day/night. i was just wondering how to make the sentences blend together better? and also any tips on like how to go into more detail? sorry if that sounds stupid lol. sorry if you already wrote about this!

I did touch on this on my writing blog @pygmi-says-hi (which has all of my writing advice/writing tips, go check it out!) on this post but I can also write about it here!

As far as details go - here are some do's and don'ts :)

don't: be too flowery.

too many adjectives or adverbs gums up the sentences and makes it hard to read. If you are trying to convey something's appearance while also describing important plot details, it's important to keep it streamlined and informative. The thesaurus is gonna be your best friend.

Keep the descriptions concise and separate from the plot sentences. My rule of thumb (not the law, do what you want, this is my process) is to keep action descriptions (fight scenes or movement montages) short and sweet, and spend more time on the exposition paragraphs. That way, the readers know what the setting looks like beforehand so that the action can still be fast-paced and easy to follow.

don't: worry about the little things

naturally, humans fill in the blanks with their imagination. You don't have to go into every nook and cranny to provide a well-rounded setting. Atmospheric writing is a way to convey the accurate mood/vibe of a setting that avoids 'white room syndrome' (aka not having any description and feeling lost without a location). Get the basics outlined and move on.

do: keep it consistent

overdescribing certain places/things and underdescribing others is not a good way to go. maybe your story works best with minimal setting and heavy emotions. or it has a sumptuous environment with richly detailed clothing and merchandise, but the plot is slowly meandering. as long as it conveys your story well, that's all that matters.

that being said - keep the style consistent. the audience will get confused if you hyperfixate on something and then ignore other things of potentially more importance.

do: prioritize

what really needs describing? what could do without the adjectives? outlining this reduces the 'heavy' feeling of paragraphs bogged down with setting descriptions.

do: maintain the vibe

group the descriptions and details together. find synonyms with a similar feel to them. example:

slimy, viscous, gelatinous, gluey, oily all kind of have the same vibe, but slippery, slick, gluey, sticky have a different vibe. the first set of words feel gross and alien. the second (to me) feel like an earthier description.

they might mean the same thing, but the sound and feel of the word has a different tone. play around and see what works!

xox hope this helps!

thank you fen!!

Mi Luz - Miguel x reader fluff fic

Content warnings - diabetes-inducing fluff, no smut, kissing, emotional constipation

Summary: Miguel has been struggling with stress, and a soft little somebody can't seem to leave his head. Pining, crush, cute cute cute big man

slow burn for two seconds cause I have no self control

Reader is afab, no y/n, described with having large eyes but that's it

love you sweet thing, enjoy ☆

songs:

Saphir - pomme

Kayla - steven sanchez

Easy on my eyes - stephen sanchez

hugging you - Tom Rosenhal

Don't you worry - Oh Wonder

☆ ☆ ☆☆ ☆ ☆☆ ☆ ☆☆ ☆ ☆☆ ☆ ☆☆ ☆ ☆☆ ☆ ☆☆ ☆ ☆☆ ☆ ☆☆ ☆ ☆

It was hard to be the king of everything. That's somewhat what he thought of himself, sitting at the top of his tall but lonely throne, scrutinizing his subjects. Miguel didn't choose this life, it chose him. So the bitterness that came with the weight of the world sat thick in his mouth, twisting his lips into a snarl and his brow into a scowl. No surprise that the Spiders around him didn't meet his eye unless to cower in fear.

It didn't bother him. He liked being alone, enjoyed the quiet of his lair - except when his pesky assistant ruined his brooding with her obnoxiously loud voice-

"aw Migs, I thought we were besties..." her pixelated pout hung in front of his eyes.

never shoulda taken you out of the drafts, he muttered, but there was no venom behind the words.

Miguel wasn't a recluse, he was just...busy. Too busy to chat, to 'hang out,' as his younger employees begged. He had shit to do, people to save. Friendship didn't fit in his schedule. So he stalked through the halls as little as possible, shouldering past cliques and couples holding hands. He didn't need that shit, their glowing auras of joy making his sensitive eyes burn.

Okay, so maybe it bothered him a little bit. Not a lot. Just a smidge. An itsy bitsy amount, if you'll pardon the pun. Hardly worthwhile. Nothing to write home about. Just something that churned in the back of his mind every waking moment of his day came up once in a while.

The irony didn't escape him, how aura sensitivity seemed to be bestowed on the least sensitive man out there. The radiating emotion and color bouncing off of everyone that passed gave him a headache. Miguel had no spidey sense to speak of, no superhuman reflexes, but the minute someone's mood changed, his ears were pricking. Not that he cared.

He didn't care that his chest ached when the sour green of fear laced the aura of his visitors. It was like a switch; he'd walk into the room, and the once shining gold and pastel hues would darken to a nervous blue, thrumming with panic. Some could pass it off, putting on a brave smile for him, but he could see. Miguel could see every shift in hue that betrayed just how little HQ liked him.

But it didn't bother him. He was king of the world.

☆ ☆ ☆

Miguel's fangs dug into his lower gums as he ground his teeth through the debrief. It had been a shitshow, a group of rookies too unfamiliar with the terrain to do anything other than Fuck It Up had failed. Four of them, Spider-girl 2045, Huntsman, and the twins, Recluse and Widow. All young and stupid.

Currently, all four were talking over each other, halos flashing like disco balls as they bickered over who had the right story.

"I friggin told you, Wid, that's not the right street, it was definitely 45th-"

"Oh, suck my webshooter, that wasn't even the right universe-"

"Would somebody please figure it the fuck out before I send you all back to the void!"

A meek silence followed his rage. Miguel was heaving, red eyes glaring down at the comedy of errors beneath him. The kids stared at him with wide, fearful eyes. Shame and embarrassment swirled around them in a sludgy grey haze.

Shit. He did it again, he was trying to be better but they were so fucking annoying and it was loud and his head hurt-

"Go home," he seethed quietly, "figure it out, and come back when your heads are out of your asses."

Not waiting for another scathing word, the Spiders scattered.

With a bone rattling sigh, Miguel collapsed onto his desk frustratedly. Why was he like this? His temper was so blasted short, no matter how hard he tried to reign it in. Peter had a toddler for chrissakes and hardly ever raised his voice.

LYLA hovered over his shoulder, a knowing look on her face. He nudged his face further into his desk, ignoring her.

"Go 'way," he muttered, teeth scraping the plasticene surface. As always, she ignored him.

"You need help, Miguel. I mean it, hey don't-" her voice went stern as he reached to disable her.

"I don't wanna hear this again," he growled, fumbling for the controls.

"Well, I'm sure these kids don't wanna be screamed at again either, and your feelings are not more important than theirs."

His carmine eyes simmered with rage as he halted. She was right, of course she was right but god why did it hurt-

Shame licked his ribs and he ducked his chin.

LYLA took the opportunity.

"With the new universes we just discovered, there'll be a whole batch of new recruits. Is this really how you wanna run this? Christ, Migs, it's almost better to be independent than deal with you." at his huff, she crossed her arms. Prancing to the front of his chair, she tapped his nose.

"You can fix it, if you really want to. But who cares if they're saving the world when the world they live in has people like you?"

She blinked out of existence, as a shameful blush reddened his cheeks.

Fuck.

☆ ☆ ☆

Twenty new spiders would be arriving today at noon on the dot. Miguel could already feel the migraine coming on as he discussed logistics with Jess and Peter. Training, tours, watches, all the work was piling in his mind.

"Miguel?"

Jess' sharp tone brought him out of his reverie. She looked expectant, a stack of files outstretched. "Did you hear what I just said?"

His blank stare triggered an eye roll. "These Spiders need Multiverse tracking, so you'll take them to the Center at 2:30, yeah?"

Miguel acquiesced gruffly and snatched the files, Meeting adjourned, he waited for his office to be clear again.

Peter hung back, aura churning with conflict.

Oh boy, here we go.

"Hey big guy....up for a chat?" Peter's eyes were bright but wary, and Miguel shot him a weary look.

"I don't have time to chat, Parker, we've been over this," he bit out.

"It's important."

"I don't care, write me an email-"

"Huntsman is AWOL."

Miguel blinked, fiery words fizzling on his tongue. Impossible. He'd just seen him an hour ago, how could that be? Sighing impatiently, he began searching for the small boy on his wall of screens.

"Miguel."

"What."

"You scared him pretty bad, dude. I know you don't like to here this, and I'll try to keep the hippy-dippy to a minimum, but dude." Miguel struggled to make eye contact, hating the rare sincerity of Peter's tone.

"I mean..." Peter faltered, gesturing to the door. "Voidspace is no joke. Especially some of those kids, where they've come from...you gotta fix your stuff. That's not cool. Jess and I have been-"

You gotta be fucking kidding me.

"Don't look at me like that."

Miguel seethed out his nose, hands clenching and unclenching around his tablet. god, if only other people saw feelings the way he did, maybe they'd leave him alone.

"I," he spat, "am aware that my temper is...volatile. But-"

"No buts," Jess said from behind him. He whirled, suddenly feeling caged in. "How you talked to the recruits today was unacceptable. Don't act like you're above consequence," She said in response to his growl. "That behavior is appalling. We can find someone else to do this, you know."

His anger dissipated. She wouldn't.

"You wouldn't."

"If it meant helping the success of the next generation, I would."

Miguel, for once in a long time, felt the sting of tears in his throat. Sensing the shift, Peter gave him an awkward shoulder pat and retreated.

"We care about you man," he said gently, "but you gotta work this out."

With that, the door slammed shut, and Miguel was alone.

Again.

☆ ☆ ☆

He thumbed the corner of his sweatshirt, damp from his workout. Peter's conversation rattled around his brain. He didn't think he'd been that harsh. He never meant-

He never meant to hurt anyone.

But it was inevitable, wasn't it? No matter how hard he tried, someone always got hurt. His tongue was too sharp, his claws too fast.

Her form, small, clutched in his arms, deteriorating into pixels as she sobbed-

No.

He wasn't doing this again. Miguel stared at himself until he was sure the mirror would crack. They deserved better. He deserved better. It was cowardly, the way he hid from emotion.

Was that what it was?

Was he afraid? Afraid to reach out for it to snap back in his face? It seemed so childish, like there should be something more than the fear of other people keeping him at bay. Gabi was gone. There was no changing that. He knew that in his head, but his heart?

The roiling stew of his emotions made his chest tight. He couldn't do this, not right now.

Maybe tomorrow.

☆ ☆ ☆

It was late. Or early, depending on how you looked at it. Miguel was steadily working, a slight burn in his red-rimmed eyes the only indication that he was tired. Adrenaline buzzed through his veins, keeping his back rigid and muscles taut.

Another anomaly, another fight, another file. click-click-click went his keyboard, rhythmic in the the empty office.

Almost empty, that is.

Out of the corner of his eye, a soft shine radiated from the doorway. Biting back a sigh, he leveled his tired glare with the figure, mentally preparing himself for one of Peter's scoldings. But as the figure drew closer, he realized he didn't recognize the shimmery white aura or the person attached to it.

"Miguel O'Hara?"

A soft, lilting voice carried from the base of his tower. Miguel blinked, not recognizing the voice either.

"Yes?" He responded gruffly, wracking his brain for who the fuck could be visiting him at this time of night -

"Um...Can...Can you roll down? O-or something? I'm sorry, I just can't really see..." the sweet voice faltered and he rolled his eyes.

Maybe, if they'd waited till a reasonable hour to visit him, his chair would be in a more reasonable position. But nooo.....Regardless, he began the slow descent from his perch. As he grew closer to the ground, the pearlescent light grew more in focus. Miguel came to the conclusion that he definitely did not know you.

Your expression was patient and soft, standing with your hands folded and dressed in a comfortable sweater. You must be new; most seasoned Spiders wore suits out of convenience. A file was grasped loosely in front of you.

"I'm supposed to be working in the office next door, and it seems I wasn't given a keycard?" Your owlish gaze turned hopeful, and he was taken aback by your gentle gaze.

Miguel had never seen someone with such large eyes. Round and long-lashed, they exuded warmth and an innocence that reminded him of her

No.

Stop it.

"Uh, yeah, hang on a second," He fumbled for his watch and pushed past you, not waiting for you to follow. His mind was reeling, trying to recall if he was supposed to know who you were. Jess had mentioned an assistant, but he figured it would be someone less....soft. More experienced, that is. Besides, he didn't trust you. No way was he just shoving the fate of the universe in your hands, even though your eyes were nice and you didn't cower when he spoke-

Stop. It.

He exhaled loudly, trying to expel the thoughts with it. You stood next to him, ever patient. Your halo, he found, was still that shimmering white. It was a soft light, not glaring and oppressive like the colors of his teammates. It soothed his headache rather than aggravated it.

Realizing he was staring dumbly at the locked door, he sighed again and slid the keycard across the pad.

Error.

Miguel blinked. He had the master card, it applied to every door, what the hell? Trying again, he felt impatience coiling in his chest. What....

Peter. Peter had borrowed his card to let Mayday out of a lab she'd snuck into. He promised he'd return it by today, but knowing him....Today was not the day.

"I can't fucking believe this," Miguel muttered venomously, "he takes the most valuable piece of tech I have and fucking forgets to return it, that irresponsible piece of...shouldn't even be a father, gotta be kidding-"

"Miguel?"

He froze, having forgotten you were there. Shame tinged his cheeks. He'd done it again, fuck, he wasn't trying-

"If it's too much trouble, I can just get my card tomorrow." Your voice was calm and soothing.

He gawked.

You were still glowing with a soft white light, tinged only now by a slight pink hue. Sympathy. No fear, no ugly red anger or terror at his temper. your eyes. you looked him in the eye. you smiled at him. you wanted to help-

His throat, too closed up with confusion and pity and ugh that he merely grunted and ducked back into his office, leaving your soft gaze behind.

☆ ☆ ☆

God, it drove him crazy. Your patience. Your light. He could feel you from yards away, your little glow that was always warm, always kind. Your card arrived safely, and there wasn't another mishap between you two. Dove, you'd been nicknamed, for the way you flitted between jobs like a small bird.

Every day, you'd pitter-patter into his office on soft feet and explain the schedule to him, then go through the mission briefs with a gentle tone that didn't falter, even if he grouched about the conferences overriding his lunch break.

He didn't think he'd need an assistant. He could do it himself, had been forever. But you...helped. Your organization was impeccable, finding reason and structure where his brain only saw chaos. Miguel was terrible with time management, but you'd give him a gentle reminder that it was time for a break, or that the work was done and his brooding could be saved for tomorrow.

Go home, Miguel, you whispered kindly, tucking a bag of dessert into his large palms. I'll see you tomorrow.

Well, he'd see you sooner. He liked to think about you. It didn't feel like daydreaming, because you worked together and therefore thinking about you was thinking about work, technically. It puzzled him, how your patience never wavered. You'd heard the stories, comforted victims of his wrath. But your light only burned brighter with him, never dampened in contempt.

He noticed it first, at a work party. Miguel hated these functions, found them boring and tedious. Chatting about mundane things while nursing cheap wine and a migraine? He'd pass.

Except, when you arrived. Dressed in a soft purple sweater and a long skirt god he loved your sweaters, how warm and docile your eyes hidden shyly beneath your hair. He itched to walk over, but nerves rooted him to the spot. You were tucked against a wall, clearly uncomfortable, and as your gaze scanned the busy room...

you landed on him. and,

you glowed. radiantly, your nervous blue haze shimmered with a soft golden happiness, and you waved with a smile. Miguel swallowed thickly.

You were happy to see him. He, who never gave you more than two word sentences, who snapped and bickered and bit like a hissing cat, made your halo glow so bright it warmed his cheeks.

Nobody had ever felt that way about him. And it was so fucking stupid, the giddiness that made him dizzy. Decency was all it was. You were just being nice. And here he was, a blushing melting mess because you were happy to see him.

He looked forward to you even more after that. Slowly, he tried his best to bite his tongue, to keep the irritation from spewing. Instead, he tried fanning the flames with small talk, stumbling through conversation like a lovesick teenager. He could tell you were surprised, but you welcomed the change. You would sit at the edge of his desk and talk about random occurrences, silly mundane things that still made his cheeks ache from smiling. How the slowly brightening halo of light around you made him adore you more, even if you had to sheepishly apologize when it got too bright.

don't be sorry, mi luz, he wanted to whisper, i love to see you shine.

Then, inevitably, you would pad back to your office and your light would be gone. Miguel would pout at the loss, missing the gentle glow that made his chest ache.

So he decided to do something about it.

You were revising a plan against the latest anomaly, in sector AB-7. His tablet was clutched to you, and you were curled against his chair. The warmth emanating from your aura made him melt with adoration, eyes growing heavy-

"Migs?"

He hummed, still gazing. you'd picked up the nickname from his AI, and he wanted to curl up in your lap every time you said it.

"You look tired, I'll let you rest." You placed the tablet back on his desk and patted his shoulder god do it again please before turning-

"No?"

He murmured it, not quite pleading. You stopped, tilting your head in confusion. "you...can stay. There's room down there, if you still wanna work."

You didn't say anything, and he felt the words rush out. "It just- it just seems strange that you'd be working in a different office when you spend so much time here anyway, but don't worry about it, it's fine-"

"Migs," you said, so gentle it made his toes curl. "I'd love that."

And hence began the worst mistake of his productive career. Because now, you'd made a home in the corner of his space, and your softness was always there, so inviting for him to gaze at. He'd lost hours of working just staring.

He learned about you, learned what made you tick. How you weren't cleared to fight, which is why you could afford do dress so comfortable. Fine by him, he'd blow a fuse if something happened to you. As long as he could keep you tucked in his little haven, safe for him to admire, he didn't give a fuck.

Jess would raise her eyebrows at your constant presence, but his heart rate was lower and he smiled, she'd never been more terrified and shocked.

he was doing better.

Miguel soon found himself focusing all of his spare attention on you. Buying you sweaters, letting you watch your favorites movies on his widescreen, doing anything to make your light glow a little brighter.

This was....different. he hadn't had this, not for a long while. it made him nervous, a little undercurrent of shyness beneath his desire to make you smile. You were never as forward with him, kind as ever but at a distance. He would take what he could get, though. As long as your light kept shining, he'd bask in its warmth.

☆ ☆ ☆

God, what a meeting. He'd zoned out halfway through, so astronomically exhausted that he could barely keep his eyes open. His thoughts were consumed with the idea of taking a nap on the old sofa you'd shoved into his office. you'd be right next to him, reading and playing with his hair, oh god if only the clock would move faster- Miguel almost lept out of his chair when the meeting concluded.

His feet quickened back towards his office, feeling your light trickle under the door. close close there she is almost-

Oh. uh oh. uh oh uh oh.

He stood frozen, staring at his desk. You had made yourself comfortable in his chair, napping with your chin tucked and hair mussed and he felt his chest grow tight god what is happening to him good christ-

Miguel swallowed roughly and peered down at your closed eyes. Your aura was a soft pink, content and sweet. He wanted to hold you so badly. God, that's what he'd been needing. tuck you up in one of your devilishly soft sweaters and keep his little light all to himself.

It wasn't lust, his desire for touch. that felt carnal, too vile for you. He would never defile you like that, wanting only to watch you shimmer and preen with happiness. Little light, mi luz, so soft...

His eyes were shining with adoration as he looked at you. He didn't know how long it had been, and he didn't care. But after a moment, he realized sleeping on his straight-backed chair would hurt your back. he needed to move you. hold you on his lap, he was softer and warmer and god help him-

Taking a breath, Miguel slid his forearms under your curled form and lifted slowly, careful not to jostle you. Whatever love demon was inside keened with joy, and he wanted to weep. As he gently maneuvered you towards your comfortable armchair, he caught a shift in your body. Freezing again, he waited for you to finish squirming, finally settling with your head tucked in his neck.

And oh, mi luz

You were glowing warmer now, the faint blush shimmering gold against your hair. Miguel's lips quivered and he began to rock gently. His hands shook with care. He could feel the tranquility rolling off of you in heavy waves, making his eyes heavy and his heart full. You felt safe with him. Soft snuffling breaths against his collar and hands clutched loosely at his nape.

He was going to die. His chest burned with the need to shout, to scream with excitement. Finally finally, little soft light, all his to hold-

Miguel might have been squeezing too tight in his joy, because your brow pinched and you mewled in discomfort. He immediately hushed you, coaxing you back into golden sleep, stroking your cheek and brushing his lips over your cheek.

"Sleep, mi luz, I have you. I have you," he cooed, nudging his nose into your jaw. You sighed contentedly and murmured a good night as he gently laid with you in the armchair. He buried his face in your hair, shivering with the warmth that enveloped him.

☆ ☆ ☆

Wherever this was, he never wanted to leave. Miguel felt syrupy and languid, wrapped in a cocoon of something that felt divinely warm and safe and

"M..Migs?"

a rustle, and the lovely bundle in his arms blinked blearily at him. his locestruck eyes shone down at his little love, and he smiled gently.

"Hi, dovey," he murmured, rubbing your back, "sleep well?"

You nodded sleepily and scooted up, seated fully against his chest. your aura pulsed sluggishly, as is overrun with emotion. Miguel was too busy sweetly nosing your cheek to notice the hues dancing around your head. still half-asleep, you purred happily, dozing gently against his warm neck. Miguel kept up, suckling gently behind your ear and across your lips and everywhere he could reach without waking you. He could do this for hours.

the warmth was beginning to singe his hair though, and he hissed gently

"mi luz," he whispered lovingly, "dovey, bebita, my love," trying as gently as possible to rouse you. You whined at the wake up, doe eyes drowsy and unfocused.

"your halo, mi sol," he whispered, pecking your cheek, "getting a little warm is all." you blushed, quickly dampening the shining haze of love you had blanketed over the both of you. Miguel grunted and laid his head back again. You followed suit, curling against him as close as possible.

'love you,' your lips murmured into his skin.

'mi luz,' he said reverently, and his soft mouth soothed you back to sleep.

☆ ☆ ☆☆ ☆ ☆☆ ☆ ☆☆ ☆ ☆☆ ☆ ☆☆ ☆ ☆☆ ☆ ☆☆ ☆ ☆☆ ☆ ☆☆ ☆ ☆

that's all folks! might do some lil drabbles off of this but idk yet. hope you enjoyed, requests are open, ilysm xox

opinions on rewrites?

I'm thinking of rewriting some of my original oneshots

teehee time for my weekly reread of this series!!

was just. hit. with a thought. you and anselm going down on blue at the same time, but one of you sucks his cock while the other eats him out, thrusting into his hole with your tongue. wanna make blue scream and cry from the pleasure (again)😵‍💫

I... I... shaking. This one sure did get away from me. (Thank you so much this thought is just *chef's kiss*)

Trine [3]

Anselm Vogelweide X Blue Jones X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Part One • Trine Masterlist • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? • request info

Summary: Blue wakes up after the events of Anselm's dinner party.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: errrrrrrr, reader is married to Anselm, Anselm refers to reader as ‘my love’, Blue sort of being in subspace again, blow jobs, sixty nine, face fucking, ass eating, anal fingering, p in v sex, vaginal fingering, hand jobs, cumming on someone’s face, cream pie, begging, teasing, edging, not full blown choking but like squeezing someone’s neck during sex, Anselm being a little naughty consent wise - so I’m gonna say dubious consent, cum eating, dacryphilia, Blue really being in subspace, Blue being upset (he thinks he’s let reader down, he hasn’t)

Word Count: 4743

________________________________

The morning light sneaking through a gap in the curtains woke Blue. The angle perfect to get right in his eyes. 

He sat up slowly, his muscles aching pleasantly. 

He remembered the evening with you and Anselm, the warm bath and kisses after. A light meal and snuggled up pressed between you both in bed as he drifted off to sleep. 

The bed was now empty. 

Slowly he got up. He took the thin linen dressing gown (dark blue) from a hook on the door and put on the pair of slippers (also dark blue) by the bed. Where his clothes were from yesterday, he had no idea. 

There was a little thud of anxiety in his heart as he made his way downstairs. If you were both out, surely you would have-

“Mr Jones?” 

He jumped, turning quickly to face the butler who had apparently appeared from nowhere. 

“Mr and Mrs Vogelwide are in the second dining room.” 

“Right… thank you.” He paused, realising he had no idea where the dining room was let alone a second one.

His eyes lingered on Blue for a second. “I’ll show you the way.” 

Blue nodded and followed a step behind. Heat rose to his face. What must this man think? What thoughts were running around in his mind? Did he wonder why Blue was walking around in very obviously just a dressing gown? Did he know? Did he care? 

Suddenly Blue realised how low the neckline of the dressing gown really was, exposing the bites and sucked on bruises that littered his skin. He pulled at the material, trying to force it higher without loosening the belt. 

The butler stopped and knocked on the wooden doors before opening them for Blue.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime sir.” He closed them the moment Blue set foot in the room. 

It was a fair size, like the parlour, and further into the heart of the house. It was also more lived in, homely. Blue supposed that these were the rooms you and Anselm preferred to use yourself or with those closest to you. Leaving the large grandiose spaces for entertaining many guests, or gentle intimidation. 

You were both sitting next to each other at the dining table, a variety of breakfast foods before you. 

“Good morning.” Anselm smiled.

“Don’t you look absolutely ravishing in that robe?” You grinned, jumping up from your seat and walking over to him. 

“Absolutely.” Anselm echoed. 

“Thank you,” Blue smiled, all his insecurities melted away as you embraced him and kissed him deeply. 

“Come,” you took his hand and led him to the table, pushing him down gently to sit in your seat. 

“But aren’t you-” Blue tried to protest, but you just tutted at him and pulled up another chair so that you were now sitting directly on his left, Anselm on his right. 

“Where’s my morning kiss?” Anselm raised his eyebrows teasingly, his tone made Blue flush, his breath catch in his throat. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled quickly before moving forward and pressing his mouth desperately to Anselm's. 

The older man chuckled. 

“He hasn’t been up an hour and already you’re teasing him.” You pretended to scold your husband as you ran your fingers along the back of Blue’s neck, just dipping under the linen. 

He shivered under your touch. 

Anselm broke the kiss and grinned. “I’m doing nothing of the sort.” 

“Hmm.” 

Your husband winked at you before looking back to Blue. “Are you hungry? There’s food here, or if there’s something special you want we can get it for you.” 

Blue opened his mouth to speak but cut himself off with a low moan as you pressed close to him and left wet kisses just under his ear. 

Anselm watched with interest for a moment. “Now, what do you think you’re doing, my love?” His voice was low and rich. It would have made Blue’s cock twitch even without the added stimulation of your mouth on his skin. 

“I’m hungry.” You whispered between kisses, lightly dragging your teeth against his pulse point. 

Blue swallowed, he’d let you devour him. He’d let you do anything you wanted.

“Oh,” Anselm said innocently as he started to run his hand up along the inside of Blue’s thighs, pushing them further apart and slipping under the robe. “Are you?”

“Hmm.” You groaned against Blue’s neck, taking hold of his chin with your right hand and forcing his head back for easier access. 

He moaned breathily, squirming a little as you dragged your left fingers over his chest, slid under his clothing, and pinched his right nipple. 

You chuckled at the little high-pitched mewl he let out. “So sensitive.”

Blue was breathing rapidly already, his heart racing with every touch and word you both graced him with. “Please.”

“Oh, begging already are we?” Anselm tutted, inching his hand higher up Blue’s thighs and lightly caressing his balls. 

Blue jumped at the sensation, gasping and whimpering as Anselm slowly massaged him with his right hand, using his left to press on Blue’s inner knee and his own leg to spread Blue as wide as possible. 

Anselm shook his head, all mock disapproval, and turned to you. “He’s already rock hard.” He gripped the base of Blue’s cock, squeezing it briefly before going back to kneading his balls with his warm palm.

“Already?” You chastised. 

Blue moaned, his mouth dry, his head light. Both of your gentle reprimands went straight to his cock. Made it twitch and smear precum against the inside of the dressing gown, the drag of the linen sparking deliciously against his weeping head. 

“He’s such a needy thing.”  Anselm sighed. 

“So needy.” You tutted.

Oh god, he was. If you could just both keep talking like he wasn’t there, like he wasn’t worth speaking to directly, just a plaything for you both to toy with. He bit his lip hard, trying to stifle his moans. 

You could both just play with him forever, lazy and disinterested and he’d thrive on even the smallest attention. The simplest praise. He’d be so good for you. He’d cum again and again, whenever you wanted, whatever you wanted. He’d do it all for you. 

Your grip on his chin tightened and Blue’s eyes rolled back, the noise that escaped from his lips was obscene. 

“Please, please, please,” the words came without a solid thought of what he was begging for, just the need for you both. For you both to keep touching him and loving him and keeping him safe as you used him like a disposable object. 

He wanted to tell you, voice all these things he wanted you to do, but the full sentences just wouldn’t come. 

Slowly Anselm dropped to his knees, still massaging Blue’s balls and the very base of his thick cock, as you stood, urging Blue up at moving him with you so that he stood with his back pressed against your chest. 

You let go of his jaw to undo the belt at his waist and slip the robe off his shoulders. 

Blue gasped, shuddered as the material fell and Anselm sucked the tip of his cock into his warm and eager mouth. 

“Oh god,” he sobbed as Anselm deep throated him, easily taking him to the very base. Despite Blue’s previous experience with this particular skill of Anselms yesterday the sudden and intense pleasure was still a bit of a shock to the system. 

He shuddered, his thighs clenching and you held him tight, sinking your teeth into his neck and running your hands over his chest. 

You waited a moment, let Blue adjust to the feeling. His heart beat crazily under your hands, the filthy sounds of Anselm sucking and moaning at the taste of Blue’s precum echoed around the room. 

Anselm kept pulling back, taking Blue’s cock completely out of his mouth and lapping at the head before slowly sinking all the way back down, watching Blue’s every expression with dark, hungry eyes. 

Blue couldn’t even recall a time before when he’d had a blowjob like this, with someone so eager to consume every single part of him. God, if his girls could just give head half as good as this then he’d be a multimillionaire in less than a week. 

“Blue,” you whispered close to his ear, your voice rich and velvet soft. The sound so sweet he nearly came right then and there. 

He nodded desperately, not trusting his own voice. 

“If you want us to stop at any point, say ‘red’, is that okay?” 

He nodded again. 

“Blue,” you put a little more command into your voice and he moved to look over his shoulder at you instantly. “What do you need to say if you want us to stop?” 

“Red.” He breathed. 

You smiled. “Good boy.” And kissed his cheek softly before you also sank to your knees. 

Blue whimpered a little at the loss, craving your close presence and reassuring touch. 

But then suddenly you were kneading his buttocks, pressing your fingers against his skin with a firmness that made him shudder and moan. He bucked forward, thrusting deeper into Anselm’s mouth and the older man growled approvingly. 

Slowly you spread Blue’s cheeks, squeezing gently. You basked in the soft sounds of his hitched breathing before you inched forward and ran a board, flat lick over his hole. 

Blue cried out. Pleasure erupting along every nerve. He grabbed a fist full of Anselm’s hair with one hand, the table with the other, to keep himself from falling, disintegrating under the dizzying onslaught of sensations. 

You grin, moving your mouth away from him for a moment as Anselm still hungrily bobbed back and forth. 

“Did you like that Blue?” You tease. 

“Yes, yes,” he moans, the words falling out his mouth like a prayer. “Please.” 

“Has anyone ever done that to you before?” 

He shook his head rapidly, tears building in the corners of his eyes. 

“Do you want me to do it again?” 

The answer was instantaneous. “Yes, yes, please, please, I need you to, I need, oh!” He moaned so loudly as you leaned forward and did it again. Just as slow, relishing in the twitch of his muscles, his little gasps for breath.

“Ohgodohgodohgodohgod!”

Anselm pulled his mouth off Blue, swirling his tongue around the head once. “I think he likes it, my love.” He said before he sank back down. 

You hummed an approving answer, sending the vibrations across Blue as you licked him.

“I do, I do, oh fuck, I do, so much! Please don’t stop!” He moaned again, tears spilling down his cheeks from the pleasure as you both worked his cock and asshole in tandem. Building him higher and higher to than tantalising peak. 

He rocked back on the balls of his feet as you and Anselm urged him back and forth. Pleasure coiled so tightly in his belly, threatening to explode at any moment. 

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-” Blue sobbed as Anselm pulled back and off him. 

Blue tried to tighten his grip in the older man’s hair, tried desperately to push him back to his needy cock. But Anselm quickly grabbed hold of Blue’s wrist, halting his actions with a dangerous look in his eyes. “Only good boys get to cum Blue.” 

Blue recognised his mistake almost instantly, quickly letting go. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, please.” He sobbed. 

You moved your mouth back, your hands still spreading his asscheeks. “Is Blue not being a good boy?” 

Anselm slowly shook his head, not breaking eye contact with the younger man as he whimpered above him. “He’s being very bad.” 

“Oh no.” You tutted. 

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean- oh god!” He moaned wantonly as you traced around his tight ring of muscle with the tip of your forefinger and pressed against it. Not enough to push inside, but just enough to make liquid lightning crack up his spine. He arched back into your touch, desperately and you giggled. Gently nipping at his left cheek before you dropped your hands to your sides. 

“No, please,” he turned to you, begging for you to keep touching him.

“Shh,” you soothed, kneeling up and kissing his hip as Anselm stood, pulling off his own clothing. 

Your husband moved to the sofa in the corner, his heavy cock hitting against his stomach as he walked. You got a perfect view of his ass as he laid down, shifting a little so that he was comfortably on his back. 

When he was ready he made a slow come hither motion. 

Blue tensed, unsure if he should leave your arms at first. You chuckled and gave his ass a playful smack, encouraging him to walk over. 

Anselm took his hand softly as he approached, rubbing his thumb soothingly over his skin. Gently he directed the younger man to get on the sofa on top of him in the sixty-nine position. 

Blue breathed unevenly, his mouth watering at just the idea of being able to take Anselm’s cock in his mouth again. He was so thick and wide. Red and leaking and just begging to be sucked. 

Blue licked his lips as he got into place, carefully tracing his slit with the tip of his tongue and groaning. 

Anselm chuckled, his dick twitching in approval. “So needy and eager, that’s it. Take it in your mouth.” He pushed at Blue’s shoulders lightly. “Remember what you learnt from before, not too fast and not too deep, relax your throat, don’t choke yourself.”

Blue moaned and nodded as he slowly eased down as far as he could. 

“So good Blue,” Anselm moaned, turning his head to you and biting his lip as he held out his hand. 

You took it, stroking your fingers through your husband’s hair, before you moved to stand with the armrest in front of you. In this position, you had a perfect view of Blue’s ass. 

Softly you took hold of Anselm’s chin, tilting him up, and Blue’s cock guiding it down, until the head tapped against your husband’s lips. 

Anselm’s breathing rose, a light flush of his skin as you controlled his movements. The sensation giddy in his stomach. 

You opened Anselm’s mouth with your thumb, urging his bottom lip down before pressing Blue’s length into his hungry mouth. 

Anselm moaned as he swallowed around him, shivering from the still controlling grip you had on his jaw. 

Blue cried out in harmony, his sounds muffled by Anselm’s cock. 

You watched them for a second, the tears on Blue’s cheeks, both of their lengths disappearing into each other. 

Firmly you ran your hands up Blue’s thighs, spreading his asscheeks again and leaning over to lap at his needy hole. 

Blue groaned, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy. 

You were firmer this time, harder, just thrusting your tongue into his tight ring of muscle and making him squirm and buck helplessly. 

It felt so good, he wanted to tell you, cry it out to you. Beg and beg and beg for you to keep going, for you to never stop. 

You bent even more forward, leaning against the armrest for support and spreading him even wider. 

He was so full, his mouth, his ass. Stuffed and just desperate for more. You grinded against him, forcing your tongue in deeper, pushing his hips up and down to roughly fuck your husband’s throat. 

Anselm growled happily, grabbing hold of your hand on Blue’s hip and squeezing. 

Blue sobbed. He was so close, so close. The edges of his approaching orgasm beginning to cloud his mind. His dick twitched in Anselm’s throat, his thighs shaking, stomach muscles contracting and-

Anselm pulled away from him with a loud pop. 

Blue sobbed. 

Your husband squeezed your hand, a whispered “stop, please,” coming from his lips. 

You pulled your mouth away and looked down at him. 

Blue forced Anselm’s cock deeper in his throat, gagging on it. Maybe if he made him feel good, maybe if he was good, he’d get to cum. Maybe if- 

Your hands are soft but firm on his shoulders, easing him back off Anselm. “Blue,” you kiss his cheek, “sweetheart, you’ll choke.” 

He sobbed, so horny and frustrated. “Please, I need it, please, I need to cum.” 

“Shhh,” you kiss him again, soft and sweet. “Do you want to stop?”

His answer is instant. “No, please, I’m sorry.”

“No, I mean the teasing.” You rub soothing circles on his cheeks. “You can say red, we’ll stop. I’ll make sure you cum straight away.”

He relaxed into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment. “I don’t want to stop, I like it.”

“Okay, good.” You kiss his lips again. “I just wanted to check.”

“Thank you.” He whispered, floating and weightless for a second like he was supported completely by your touch. 

Anselm kisses Blue’s thigh before flicking his tongue over the length of his dick and smiling when Blue shudders. 

“Come on Blue,” Anselm begins to shift underneath him. “Time for us to change places.” 

You help Anselm to move Blue so that he’s lying flat on his back on the sofa, he looks up at you both with large eyes. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes, my love.” Anselm trails his lips along your neck, slowly running his hands over your body.

Blue moans softly as he watches you lean back against him, arch into his touch as he undresses you. 

Anselm makes a bit of a show of it. When the last piece is finally off; he presses his chest to your back, rubbing his cock against the swell of your ass and spreading your folds for Blue to see. 

You moan softly as he kisses your neck, sucking lightly as he plays with your clit. His eyes locked onto Blue the whole time. 

You start to writhe under Anselm’s touch, he knows every single trick and move to work you to your release as quickly as possible. But he's steady and slow, gently working his thick fingers in and out of you and groaning as your slick coats his skin. 

Languidly, he lifts up your right leg and rests your foot against the edge of the sofa, so that Blue can see even more clearly, before he starts his slow torture up again. 

Blue watches mesmerised. His eyes flitting from Anselm’s face and his mouth on your neck, your face and how you gasp in pleasure, the way he rolls your left nipple in one hand, your chest as it rises and falls, how his fingers sink into you, the slick coating them. 

The sounds of your arousal are obscene, growing louder and louder as he keeps working you over, needing you wetter. 

Blue’s cock aches painfully. Burning arousal thumping between his legs. 

Finally, Anselm seems satisfied. He slowly draws his fingers out of you, making sure you’re stable before moving to the side cupboard and taking something out. 

“I want you to ride him, my love, please.” 

You nod, your thighs a little shaky from how he stretched you open. “Is that okay with you Blue?” You ask. 

He nods desperately, holding his arms out to you as you climb on top of him and straddle his thighs. 

He lets out a little whimper and sob, relief overwhelming him like the buzz of a drug. You kiss his tear stained cheeks as you line him up with your entrance and sink down. He’s hot and heavy in your hand, and you don’t tease. 

Blue throws his head back in a silent scream as he fills you. Your tight heat a remedy to the deep agony of his arousal. 

He moans, holding your hips tightly as you bounce up and down on him, fucking him perfectly into the sofa. He sobs, relief flooding his veins. So good, so good, so good. He fights to keep his hips still, to just let you use him, to be your good boy and just take whatever you’ll give. 

“Thank you, thank you,” he mewls, fresh tears in his eyes from just how perfect it is. 

“You’re so good Blue, such a good boy.” 

He moans loudly, biting his lip in an effort not to cum and fill up your sweet pussy. “Please!” He grabs your right hand and presses it against his throat, squeezing your fingers against his skin and begging you with his eyes. 

You get the hint instantly and can’t help but groan as you press firmly against his neck, not enough to choke him, but just enough so that he can really feel it.

Blue cries out, putting both his hands back next to his head as if you pinned them there, closing his eyes and completely giving into you. 

Every breath is a moan, every movement just another dizzying push, edging him nearly to finally burying that sweet ache. 

He mumbles your name constantly between hiccups of pleasured gasps. 

Yours. Yours. Yours. 

Anselm lets out a long groan, jerking himself off desperately as he watches you both. His length is covered in lube from the small bottle he pulled out of the cupboard. 

You hold your free hand out to him, beckoning him closer and he moves into your touch instantly, pressing his chin into the palm of your hand. 

You pull him closer and kiss him softly as you ride Blue. Anselm moans into your mouth, his hand a blur on his cock, the slap, slap, slap of skin filling the room. 

He breaks the kiss, pressing himself close to your side and nuzzling into your shoulder. 

“You both look so good.” He mumbles. “Want to watch this every day.” 

You kiss his forehead, his sweat salty on your lips. 

He gazes down at Blue. The younger man’s eyes are slightly dazed over, his mouth open. 

Anselm can’t help himself, he takes his hand off his cock briefly to hurriedly pour lube over his forefinger before taking himself back in hand. 

He reaches his finger down, sliding it between Blue’s slightly open legs and presses the tip against his puckered hole. 

Blue gasps, a different sound from his others. The pitch higher. 

It takes you a moment to realise what is going on, a flash of anger cutting through the pleasure in your core. You grab hold of Anselm by his hair, forcing him closer to you. He lets out a little shuddered breath, still sinking in and out of Blue and still pumping his own cock. 

You don’t slow the pace of your hips but you snarl at your husband. “Did you ask permission?” 

He bites his lip and shakes his head. 

You look back to Blue, softly touching his cheek as you grind down on him, your voice sweet. “Blue, baby, you okay?” 

He nods desperately. 

“You okay with what Anselm’s doing?” 

He nods again. “Yes, yes, please. More.” 

You smile. “Of course, good boy.” 

As you turn back to your husband you tug his hair again, pulling his mouth to yours. You kiss him harshly, all tongue and teeth, and bite at his bottom lip before you pull him back.

He stares at you, hazy and breathless. 

“Ask permission next time.”

He nods, mouthing ‘I’m sorry’.

“Or I’ll punish you.”

Anselm’s eyes close as your words, a deep groan rising from his chest. 

You tug his hair again. “And not in a way you’ll like.” 

His eyes snap open, blown wide with lust and he nearly cums on the spot. “Please.”

You smile wickedly, your fingers curling around the back of his neck as Anselm slides his forefinger past Blue’s ring of muscle and groans at how tightly Blue squeezes around him. 

Blue eyes go wide as Anselm sinks into him, his back arching uncontrollably. 

He lets out the softest moan, an almost strangled sound as pleasure explodes along every nerve, flaying him raw. 

He cums deep, bucking and thrusting and screaming his throat red. He can’t stop moving, can’t stop cumming as more and more spurts out of him, filling you completely. 

Anselm moans watching him, biting into your shoulder. You keep bouncing, trying to prolong his pleasure for as long as possible. 

You slow and stop as he does, keeping him deep inside. Anselm slowly eases his finger out of Blue, leaving him strangely empty. 

Blue’s mind is foggy, hazy from how hard he’s cum. He swallows, blinking heavily. “I’m sorry,” are the first words out of his mouth. 

“Blue,” you soothe, “what are you talking about?” You lean down so you can kiss him gently.

He kisses you back, tears in his eyes. “I finished before you’d cum.” He lets out a small sob, but unlike his previous pleasured filled ones, this is painful and cuts into your chest. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” you hush, kissing his nose. “I don’t mind, hmm? I don’t mind.” 

He looks up at you, trying to calm down as you stroke his cheeks. He nods.

“I liked it, you understand? Liked seeing you cum, liked that you felt so good. Okay? You’re my good boy for cumming like that, did it feel good? Cumming that hard?”

He nodded desperately, his eyes still shining. “Yes, yes I did. Loved it, love you.” 

“I love you too.” You kissed his lips again. 

Anselm bites his lips together, trying not to ruin the sweet moment but unable to stop fisting his length. The tears on Blue’s cheeks, fuck, how he wanted to smear them all over his cock. 

You sit up and glance at your husband, a small smile on your face at how worked up he is. 

“You gonna cum, hmm?”

He nodded, unable to speak, so close, so close. Just a little more. 

“I want it.” Blue moaned, suddenly desperate for it. He opened his mouth and held out his tongue.

Anselm groaned loudly. You guided him, your hand on your husband's arm, towards Blue. He was sure he wouldn’t have made it without your steadying touch.

He jerked himself quickly, pleasure so tight in his muscles, tried to aim, and, and- 

“Shit!” Anselm spurted all over Blue’s face, his tongue, his cheeks, some of it even hitting his eyebrow and lashes. 

Blue moaned as it hit him, revelling in it and letting Anselm squeeze out every last drop. 

Anselm breathed heavily, his whole body turning to jelly. You wrapped your arms around him to stop him from collapsing back and helped him to sit on the floor as best as you could with Blue’s softening cock still in you. 

“Okay?” You kissed your husband’s forehead. 

He nodded, breathing hard. 

“Blue?” 

He nodded as well, his dick twitching. Slowly he looked up at you with lust blown eyes. “Want to make you cum now.”

You smiled. “Blue, you don’t hav-”

“Please?” He pouted. How could you say no to that? 

You got off him gently, making a little bit of a mess on his cock and abdomen that Anselm hurriedly cleaned up with his tongue. He even went to lick away the spend that was left on Blue’s face but he shook his head. “Not yet.”

Both you and Anselm let Blue direct you softly. Anselm sat back onto the sofa, his back against the armrest, you between his legs with your back to his chest and your husband’s arms around you. 

“Is this how you want us?” You checked and Blue nodded as his eyes raked over both of you. 

Slowly, his muscles aching, he laid flat on his stomach, his face between your legs. 

You didn’t last long. Blue ate you out like a starving man, curling his tongue and sucking his spend from your throbbing pussy. Some of Anselm’s cum that still clung to Blue’s cheeks rubbed onto your thighs, as Blue moaned and lapped, and stared up at you like you hung the moon. 

You came against his lips with one hand bent back and holding the back of Anselm’s head, your husband’s mouth on your neck. 

You coaxed Blue up and into your lap, all three of you wrapping each other in your embraces. Just holding tight. 

After a long moment you frowned. “Why was there lube in the cupboard?”

“Forethinking, my love.”

You snorted and Blue nuzzled into your chest. 

“How did you know we’d need it in here?” You asked. 

“Ah,” Anselm smiled, rubbing Blue’s back and kissing your head. “Well that’s easy, I put some in every room in the house.”

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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flufftober prompt 1 - lost pet meet cute

a/n: yes I know BB8 is not a pet, but he's pretty damn close and it's my fic anyway.

cw: fluff, strangers to lovers, poe being Sassy, reader is afab and racially ambiguous. she works as a comms officer.

The fields were quiet this early in the morning. You took the long way to your station, through the winding trails of the Yavin base. The foliage was glowing softly in the early morning sun. Even the birds were still rousing, lazy cooing peppering the silence. A warm cup of caf hugged to your chest completed the picturesque morning.

You stood on a hill, looking at the shining metal hangar from afar. So many pilots and techs rousing to go save the galaxy.

But your favorite had yet to arrive. In the recent weeks, you'd met a friend that made this morning walk even better.

"Hey, bud," you grinned at the fast-approaching metal ball. A BB unit, scuffed orange and white, whirred a happy greeting and bumped against your ankles. Giving his antennae a little shake, you extended your hand.

"Walk with me?"

A small metal arm protruded from his side, which you gently took in your palm. Slower, so that the little droid didn't get caught on a root, you two made your way towards the Comms tower.

He belonged to somebody; his condition was too nice to be a rogue. But nobody had filed a missing report, and he always went back to his pilot by the time your shift started. Besides, you had a soft spot for BBs. Their big black eyes made your heart melt.

That sweet morning moment warmed your chest throughout the whole day, even as a stressful mission tore at your nerves. He'd be at the same place in the evening to walk you back.

What a little gentleman.

Today was an event. Even arriving early, you'd scrambled to get in place before the first squadron took off. There was a mixup on the schedule, so half the shift showed up late and the other half had to cover three different missions at once. No caf had been shipped on time, so the cup you had that morning sustained you - barely - for the rest of the day.

All in all, you were fucking exhausted.

The suns were setting quickly. You stared out the window, a yawn cracking your jaw. Somebody tapped your arm.

"You look wiped, babe, wanna ride with me? Taryn will drive," your friend Anya said, concern knitting her brow. For a moment, your heart ached to leave your little buddy, but he'd understand. A walk would not help your exhaustion.

Nodding, you loaded into her land cruiser and promptly knocked out. It felt like a blink before your stumbled into your tiny hut, tearing off your boots and falling into bed. You'd wash the sheets later.

Somewhere around midnight, an incessant whirring pulled you from your den of sleep. Groaning, you squinted at your watch.

"Whassat?" you croaked, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders. Something was outside, cracking sticks and scuffling in the mud Probably a rat.

Beeep. Beep beep beep-

Not a rat.

Frowning, you peeked out the window. A familiar white dome was darting in and out of the bushes, rolling faster than you'd ever seen him.

"Bud?"

You poked your head out the door, shivering at the cool air. The movement stopped. You puffed out a cloud, trying to find your friend. A familiar whir, then an eighty-pound metal droid collided with your knees. Howling, you stumbled back inside.

"Dude -fuck- buddy, chillout, your metal is like a frozen rock," you hissed, any remnants of sleep shocked from your mind. He chirped apologies, rolling around you in fast circles.

"Sorry I left, I was tired." You patted his side. BB-8 let out an indignant crackle and you snorted.

"Damn, didn't know this was such a big deal."

Standing, you yawned. "Thanks for the check in, dude, but I gotta go back to-"

"GET AWAY FROM MY DROID!"

fucking what the-

You dropped the blanket and screamed, falling backwards into a pile of leaves. BB-8 whined shrilly, a short electric pop shocking you from his surprise. An enormous crashing sound, and a shadowed man burst through the underbrush, blaster raised. A squad of birds took off at the massive arrival and swarmed your hut.

BB-8 immediately approached the man, whirring so fast his hubcap started emitting steam. The man dropped to his knee and started whispering back and forth, too quiet for you to hear. Not that you cared, you were trying to become as small as possible underneath your ratty blanket.

this is why we don't take random animals home, your mother's voice echoed, they always belong to somebody.

Well, she shoulda mentioned something about droids.

"Um, excuse me?"

You froze. The man cleared his throat and you heard him step closer. Carefully, you craned your neck to peek from under the quilt.

"Uh, hi," he waved, still shrouded in darkness. You blinked back, dumbfounded. BB-8 stayed close to this guy's ankles, clearly encouraging.

"H-hello?" you croaked, sitting up when you realized he had pocketed the blaster.

"Sorry about that," he laughed sheepishly, his silhouette rocking on his heels. "I uh, I thought something else was going on."

"I gathered that," you sighed, brushing the dirt and crud off of your pants. The blanket was trashed; you'd wash it later. Laundry day suddenly just got bumped up. Any remnants of sleep were gone.

BB-8 chirped softly and you smiled. "Yeah, I figured I had to meet your pilot one of these days."

The man looked at the droid. "How'd you know I was a pilot?"

"...BB units ae specifically assigned to pilots."

"Oh." He cleared his throat again and shifted his stance. The silence was beginning to be uncomfortable, and you really wanted to go back to bed.

"I-"

"Well-"

Both of you laughed this time, and you opened the door a little wider, initial hesitation gone. "Would you like to come in?" You offered.

The man shook his head. "No, I've taken up enough time. And besides, Beebs needs a cleaning." The little droid sputtered and smoked.

"Don't fuss, little man, or I'll use the yellow sponge."

Terrified, the droid zipped into the underbrush. You waved goodbye and shook your head. Never a dull day. Or night.

"Captain's got something for ya," one of your coworkers mumbled in your ear, clapping your shoulder. Frowning, you set aside your headset and peeked into the control room. Your amused commander was watching BB-8 carefully balance a tray on his little round head.

"Buddy?"

He beeped and slowly rolled over, spinning wildly to avoid dropping his precious cargo. Precious indeed - a steaming cup of caf, fresh from the shipment. You mentally pumped your fists and grinned, snatching the hot cup from your little friend.

A sticky note was attached to the side.

thanks for babysitting - Poe

You weren't sure who the fuck Poe was, but he was a gem for sending coffee, so you weren't complaining. Taking a long, grateful drag of your liquid gold, you gave Beebs an appreciative pet and saluted your captain. She smirked and gestured to the hall.

"The delivery man wanted to speak with you," she said airily, winking. Affronted by her weird attitude, you apprehensively followed BB into the hall.

Leaning against a set of control panels was one of the most attractive men you'd ever seen. Is that the guy??

Upon seeing you, he jolted to a straighter position and stuck out his hand.

"Hi," he breathed, "Poe Dameron. Sorry about--last night, that was, um, yeah, sorry," he said, scratching his neck. You were too absorbed in his deep brown eyes to register his nervousness.

"Yeah, sure thing," you mumbled, blinking back into focus. Damn, you didn't know pilots could be that pretty. Even sweaty helmet hair suited him.

BB looked between you, unsure of who to nudge first. He picked his pilot, bumping gently into his boots and sending up hopeful coos. You rocked on your heels.

"Uh, I have to get back, but thanks for the caf," you said, smiling. Poe looked up from petting his droid to send a dazzling grin up at you.

Feeling like a ball of joy, you floated back to your position and spent the rest of the day spacing out in amazement.

In an instant, you were trudging back up the hill, BB at your ankles. It was a cooler day; the Yavin summer was turning quickly into monsoon season. You needed to hurry home to put up the rain shields.

Stopping to catch your breath, you shrieked when a large hand closed over your shoulder.

"Shit-sorry," Poe hissed, backing off and nearly tripping over BB. "Sorry, sorry, I only wanted to walk with you. Shit, are you okay?"

You were doubled over, desperately trying to calm your rocketing heartbeat. Could you ever have a normal conversation with this man?

"Fine," you gasped, righting yourself. Poe's gaze softened and he smiled. Clearly he'd showered and a divine glow was shimmering around his hair. Again with the lethal face card, this guy. As if breathing wasn't hard enough already.

Naturally as blinking, Poe took your bag from your shoulder and helped you over the hill, walking arm in arm. Were you dreaming? He smelled wonderful, and he chatted amicably as you walked. There was a certain charm radiating off of him - one that drew you in like a magnet.

BB whirred contentedly between you, occasionally throwing in his two cents as you teased each other over rank.

"For a Commander you're awfully uncoordinated," you poked, to which he responded with a dramatic eye roll and a "careful, you don't wanna get demoted."

You felt a twinge of disappointment as your hut came into view. Poe's grip tightened then released.

"Thanks for the walk," you said, admiring the way the sun fell on his eyes. He smiled and they twinkled brighter.

"Sure. 7 tomorrow?"

You blinked. "Sorry?"

"Your shift," he elaborated, "you leave for work at 7. I'll meet you here. Beebs told me," he added at your suspicious look. A shamefully loud giggle threatened to break out of your mouth, but you coughed to cover it.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"See you then, sweetheart," he called over his shoulder. You waved, keeping your composure until the door closed, after which you screamed into a pillow and never stopped smiling.

"You left out the best part," Poe whined, nudging your shoulder. You cocked your head, sipping the tall flute of champagne.

'Whaddya mean? That's literally the-"

"What about the part where you fell shamelessly in love with me the second our eyes met in the darkness and you couldn't resist my rugged charm?" He pouted, fluttering his dark lashes.

"Poe," you chastised, tapping his nose, "it was dark, I couldn't see you at all. It coulda been Finn for all I knew. Or General Ackbar."

He gagged animatedly at the thought as your audience guffawed. The warmth of the night blossomed in your chest, and you adjusted the straps of your dress.

"Can we go home soon?" Poe asked, leaning against your shoulder. His day-old stubble scratched pleasantly on your skin.

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the clock. "Really, dear?"

"I'm tired, and you look real pretty, and I think I read somewhere it's inappropriate to undress in public, so...please?" If it wasn't your wedding that you were hosting and that you needed to attend, the doe-eyed look he was giving you might have tipped the scales. But you hadn't even cut the cake yet.

"No way, Commander, you still need to prove yourself on the dancefloor."

"After?"

"Only if you walk me back," you murmured, kissing him warmly on the lips.

taglist, comment to join!

@krakenkitty @ominoose @bulletgoth @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @justsomeonecalledemma @iolaussharpe-24 @rosegnome @twwcs @heeheehoohoofictimr @steven-grants-world @ael-xander @to-be-a-sunshine @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @silvernight-m

clever boy - MK x GN!reader

reader gender is not described could be literally anything. inspired by this post that made me giggle for ten minutes

sfw, no risky content, just silly cuteness. jake isn't mentioned sorry lockley stans but maybe I'll do another version w him <3

Steven and Marc, Marc and Steven. The two of them, peas in a pod. Keeping each other company in Steven's tiny flat.

Until, you.

You'd caught both their eyes, really, but Steven called dibs because he was fronting when you'd met. Though, Marc argued, he was feeding the poor guy lines because he was blushing so hard he couldn't think straight.

From the first day, Steven wanted to jump the gun and tell you how pretty you were and invite you over forever and gush and gush but no. Marc was patient, reminding him to breathe, to take his time. They were in this together, and he didn't want his hope for your affection to be crushed by his headmate's eagerness.

So Steven sat back, hands wringing his sleeves and a stupid smile smarting his cheeks. You thought he was the sweetest thing you'd ever seen. His sass made you keel over laughing, listening to his funny recounts of ignorant customers or mishaps on the bus.

He was sweet and pretty and so, so clever.

Which is what first planted the seed of doubt that he didn't like you the way you liked him. Steven, as much as he stuttered, was sharp as a tack. He loved puzzles and trivia and escape room games (though the real thing made his hair stand on end). You thought for sure he'd sniff you out in an instant; your growing crush wasn't discreet.

But he never mentioned it, never made a move, nothing. Marc, whom you'd met a few weeks later, was also very smart. He liked deeper conversations, and his warm gaze would be intensely focused on whatever subject you'd picked. Surely, if Steven missed your hints, Marc would give him a wink and a nudge and bam, game on.

Still, nothing but platonic smiles.

Little did you know, a tug of war was raging in your friend's mind the second you left his flat.

The three of you shared a wall, so Marc ensured his whisper-fights with Steven stayed quiet.

"Too soon," Marc hissed into the kitchen mirror. It was small and round, and you had left a little sticky note with a smiley face on it for them to see in the morning.

Steven was tearing his hair out in the small frame, eyes round and watery. Mate, I've never had this much courage to do anything in my life, you know that, please, it can't be that bad!

Marc gritted his teeth. Naive little Steven.

"What if you scare them off, huh? We've known them for a month and you think they'll jump in just like that?"

Steven paused his worrying, realizing for the first time the kind of fallout that might occur. His cow eyes saddened, imagining the empty space that would replace you, if you didn't reciprocate. He couldn't live with that.

"Just a bit longer," Marc sighed, rubbing his face. He needed to sleep. Steven continued to fume, for once at odds with his best friend.

You'd noticed his distance. Steven, always happy to see you, had withdrawn. He waved quietly in the morning, and mumbled a good night when you passed his door. It stung. Marc was stoic as ever, but his jaw was tighter and he didn't look you in the eye.

Something was wrong.

So, like any good friend would, you picked up takeout and a few movies and knocked on Steven's door.

It took a few moments, but your favorite mop of curls soon peeked out from behind the frame.

"Oh, erm, uh, heya, sorry, did we plan something? I, um," Steven still didn't look you in the eye, fumbling with the latch as he stuttered through an apology. You stepped forward and touched his shoulder.

Smiling what you hoped was gently, you eased his worry. "I just wanted to say hi. I brought snacks," you said, holding up the warm bag of food.

Still nervous, Steven nodded and beckoned you inside.

Bollocks, he griped. Marc was having a conniption, trying to come up with a reason to push you back out. It's raining, Steven pleaded, and we haven't hung out for ages and Thai smells really good and they've got that cute sweater on-

That's the problem, Marc tossed back, you'll trip all over yourself like a fool. Lemme front-

Steven had to bite his lip to stop from yelling his dissent. He'd been pestering Marc to invite you over for days, now was his chance.

You were dividing the curry and rice into equal portions while he poked through the movies and games you'd brought. There were a couple of his favorites, Clue, James Bond (The originals, of course) and some he didn't recognize.

"Hey, what's this?" He grabbed a small box and peered at it. You paused your chopsticks and leaned over.

"Oh," you said around a mouthful of rice, "I dunno, Rachel from work recommended it." You picked at your food as he flipped it over to read the back.

20 Questions, it was titled. Forty different cards, each with a subject. One person had the subject and the other had to guess what it was in twenty questions or less. Only three hints allowed and nothing made-up.

"Let's do it," Steven decided. He enjoyed a challenge and if it meant he could hear your lovely voice, he wasn't complaining. Marc had fallen silent, taking to brooding in the background. Probably for the best - he wasn't very good at puzzles.

You wiped your hands on a napkin and took the first card.

"A classic movie," you read. Steven rocked on his heels for a moment, fiddling with his plate.

"Got it," he said.

You knew what to start with. Steven loved classic movies, but none of the scary ones. Probably something historical.

"Does it take place in the last fifty years?"

He nodded, chewing. One.

"Does it have a female protagonist?" Two.

He shook his head gleefully. That familiar Steven sparkle was back, and it eased the worry in your head. He wasn't so off, then. Maybe just a bad week.

"Does the man have a whip?" You were grinning, sure you'd got it. Steven's lips twitched - he knew he'd been found out.

It took only two more questions for you to guess Indiana Jones, to his shock. You blamed it on luck rather than the adorable predictability of your friend.

Steven's turn next, and it took him halfway to guess "Fondue" at Favorite food. You went back and forth, giggling at each other on the floor of his rainy flat. Steven protested when you argued that he couldn't use himself for Favorite Superhero.

"I am a hero," he wheedled, gesturing to the Moon Knight stuffie you'd got him as a joke.

"Yeah, but you can't guess yourself," you argued. Nowhere in the rules did it say that, but it felt good to have your bickering sessions. You'd missed this - bantering over stupid issues with tummies full of food and a fun game to play.

Steven blushed when you mentioned it. "Sorry," he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. "I got busy, 'n Marc was being pissy 'cause - yeah you were, don't be a knob," he muttered to himself. Your grin twitched at the mention of your other friend.

"How is Marc?"

He swallowed thickly. "Uhm...he's, uh, he's swell. Hang on, sorry-" There was a pause as he flickered between scowling and mumbling.

You ignored his stuttering and resumed eating. He needed space at the moment; Marc was probably arguing over something. You didn't want to make them uncomfortable.

"Sorry," Steven said sheepishly. "My turn, yeah?"

Setting down your empty plate, you nodded. Flipping a card, you saw alarm flash across his face. You laughed nervously.

"What?"

He swallowed and smiled nervously. "Nothing, nothing. Ah, I guess, we can skip it if you want...?"

You snatched the card and froze. Longtime Crush.

Fuck. Stay calm, this will be fine. A door of opportunity glowed in your mind, and you smiled.

"No. Let's do it."

Steven, still wary, nodded and tried to push away the intense shame inside. This was going to crush him. He could feel Marc's annoyance through the barrier. Told you so. Not wanting to ruin your game, he soldiered on.

"Is...are they...a man?" You nodded, eyes glittering. God this was worse than torture.

"Have you known him very long?"

You thought about it. "Yeah, I guess. Feels like forever." Great, you'd had a childhood crush all along. He never stood a chance. Marc was burying his head in his hands. Steven wanted to push him to the front so he could have a good cry, but he needed to face it. His fault you were here anyway.

"Do you see him at work?"

"N....Sometimes," you added. He scrunched his nose.

"Whaddya mean sometimes? Either you do or you-"

"Next question," you laughed. Steven wracked his brain.

"Oh, bugger, uh...." he didn't want to pry, but he couldn't think of anything.

"Need a hint?" You were on the verge of cackling. Grumpily, he shook his head.

"Does he live nearby?"

"Definitely."

He pursed his lips, thinking of your small social circle. Your work was a tiny office, there had to be a few guys that he knew.

"Does...Is he friends with our friends?"

You nodded. "He's very close."

He had to be missing something. "Fine, gimme a hint."

"Well," you began, smile stretching to the moon, "he's very clever. He'd like this game, I think. He likes to laugh, but he can be quite serious too." Ignoring the fact that you'd given him two hints, Steven's heart wilted as he noticed the starry look in your eyes. Whoever this guy was, he was a lucky chap.

Marc was miserable, gloominess radiating. Steven felt awful, he hadn't meant for this to go so poorly. Just get through the questions, Marc grumbled.

"Where does he work?"

You tapped your chin. "Well...he's got two jobs."

His eyebrows raised. "Busy fella, huh?"

"Yeah." Your lips quirked. "Almost seems like he's two people."

"What's his jobs, then?"

"Let's see...it's very unconventional," you said slowly, a cute smile on your face, "Sorta self-employed."

Steven cocked his head at the confusing answer. Self employed? That's not really a second job. Marc shrugged. We're kinda self employed, so it could be.

It was strange how many similarities he found between himself and this mystery man.

"I'll give you a hint," you said after the moment dragged. Steven vehemently shook his head.

"No, I've got it, swear."

You giggled. "it won't count, promise. He's got a pet fish."

Steven threw up his hands in exasperation. "How've I never met this man?! We sound almost identical, I'm sure I'd remember him!"

You were bent over laughing now. He sat there, bewildered, while Marc watched with growing understanding.

Steven, he hissed. Steven, hang on.

Stop being a spoilsport, I know you're mad, Steven retorted, too invested in the game.

"Marc's met him," you said between fits, tears streaking your cheeks. Marc opened his mouth again but Steven waved him away.

"Nuh uh, I can do this," he said determinedly. STEVEN! Marc was shouting now, thumping his hands in vain.

You'd stopped laughing, grinning like a loon while you waited. He'd get it now, surely, you hoped, the fading laughter revealing your anxiety.

Steven had short-circuited, eyes flicking around like a pinball machine.

"You're clever," you murmured, "you'll get it."

He snapped out of it and raked a hand through his messy curls. "Hang on, hang on, what? This doesn't- how can he be friends with our friends when the only man friend you've got is me?" He was genuinely perplexed, triggering a sympathetic smile from you.

Marc was in fits now, and Steven was getting a headache. Oi, Marc, chill out a bit, yeah? I'm trying to-

Steven for once in your life listen this is important oh my God-

"What?" he relented, mouthing sorry at you. Marc heaved a breath and closed his eyes.

You. Us. Steven, it's so obvious.

Steven rolled his eyes. "Me? You've lost it, mate, really, you've gone mad."

He froze, clapping a hand over his mouth. "Oh my days, sorry, I didn't mean to guess so soon, sorry-"

You did nothing but grin, leaning closer. "Clever boy," you whispered, then pressed your lips to his.

Marc fainted.

Steven, sweet man, had frozen, too preoccupied with his internal screaming do understand what was happening.

Oh.

oh.

His hands found their way to your cheeks and he giggled, the sweet sound muffled against your lips. It was clunky and off-centered, but it was real and he was laughing and every insecurity he'd ever had vanished in a puff of smoke.

You pulled back for a breath, but Steven hadn't finished, chasing after you with a huff. Marc, finally back online, was sitting in a lovesick stupor. Your lips were soft and your hands were rubbing soothingly down his back. A quiet solitude had blanketed the flat, now dark. Steven leaned his head on your shoulder and you hugged him tight, smiling into his neck. The two of you breathed together, winding down from the excitement of your game.

Once you'd sufficiently relaxed, you pulled away and were met with Marc's twinkling gaze.

"Y'know, I was the one that gave Steven the head's up, so I think I-"

"C'mere you," You huffed, peppering his cheeks in light pecks. He preened, taking a heavy sigh of relief. Marc leaned in and captured your lips, licking gently into your mouth. He'd definitely had more practice, and your heart sang with joy.

Game over, plates empty and hearts full, you curled up and watched the rain pitter-patter in the warm comfort of your home.

yes i think steven loves james bond. he is the type to try and figure out the mystery along with the movie. also 100% knows all cinema trivia Ever To Exist. Marc hates it.

xox thank uuuu

part 2