#< the only brown-eyed character in the show

[feline-gal]

Casper High Faculty

Lancer | Tetslaff | Falluca | Ishiyama

[kotohq]

##. MY HEART'S GOING LUB-DUB

♡ things he has said that flustered you.

♡ contents and warnings: established relationships, mentions of making out (nirei), mentions of marriage (sakura), reader’s ears are pierced in suou’s, mild, mild, possessiveness in suou's but not really 🐧

♡ characters: sakura haruka, nirei akihiko, suou hayato (x gn! reader)

Anyone who knows SAKURA HARUKA probably knows that contrary to the delinquent facade he puts up, he is actually quite innocent. A little naive, if you will, blushing at every show of romantic affection. And everyone in Boufuurin knows that’s why he’s become subject to Suou Hayato’s teasing when the brown haired boy needed a good chuckle. And of course, you, as his very lovely partner, had to also jump on the bandwagon of endearingly poking fun at your boyfriend. 

“Y’know, Haruka, you should stop me or else I’m gonna get carried away and keep teasing you even after we get married!” This was a sentence you often say for laughs after you had yet again successfully made Haruka agitated and his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red, all the way up to his ears. Granted, the first time he heard it he couldn’t look you in the eye for two whole days at the mention marriage (it’s not that he doesn’t like it, in fact it was because he likes it a little too much that he couldn’t even make eye contact without imagining you in fancy white attire). But now, he barely bats an eye at it now with how often you say it. But today, it’s evident that that particular sentence had poked at someone’s curiosity as you can sense someone staring at you as you banter with your boyfriend. 

“You know, Sakura-kun, I barely see you reacting to... that. You’re really planning to marry them in the future, huh?” Ah, it's Suou again. His soothing voice drips with mischief, the purpose of his question is obviously to tease his heterochromatic eyed peer yet again. Haruka’s features morph into one of confusion, brows furrowed as he turns to face his vice captain. 

“Hah? What are you talking about?” Haruka inquires like suou’s question is the most ridiculous question in the world. If you didn’t know any better you would have thought suou was asking him if he believed pigs could fly, or if the earth was actually a hexagon. 

(Of course, you can’t lie, suou’s question made you nervous despite how lighthearted he said it. Your self consciousness has already prepared itself for a heartbreak trip as you await your boyfriend to continue his response.)

“Why would I date someone I don’t intend on marrying?” 

Ah, now it’s your cheeks that are heating up. 

“Are you done?” The only answer SUOU HAYATO offers to your inquiry is a focused hum. His hand fumbles with the earring, his earring, as he tries to carefully slide the hook into the small hole on your right earlobe. Though, you have to say, you have nothing particular to complain about as you wait for your boyfriend to put the earring on you. After all, you’re getting the privilege of being in the front seat staring at Suou Hayato’s face as he carefully tries to put the earring on you. Lips pursed and eyes squinted a little, he looks extra handsome when he’s focused, you note. 

“Just need to secure them with the back. And... done!” he heaves out a breath as triumph takes over his features, pulling back slightly to admire his (hardly) hard work. His lips stretch into a smile, satisfied at how the red and yellow of his earring highlights your features more. 

“How does it look?” you feel quite nervous as you wait for his reply, shyly peering at him through your eyelashes. Being so close, you have the advantage of watching closely for any twitch of his features that might indicate satisfaction, dissatisfaction, anything that can indicate what kind of reaction he’s going to emit. 

You twitch slightly at the sensation of his pointer finger and middle finger grazing your chin, touch gentle as he settles them there. You swear you see something flashing in his usually gentle ruby eyes. Something akin to satisfaction, or, even, possessiveness. But you don't comment on it. He moves your head from your side to side as if to examine you thoroughly. (he quietly notes how cute you are for compliantly moving your head.) It’s only when you feel the earring faintly brushing against your right shoulder that you become hyper aware of how empty your left ear feels without an earring weighing it down. You also become hyper aware of the fact that the earring’s pair is still dangling from his left ear, eyes instinctively flitting to it. Your cheeks begin to heat up. Oh, it’s almost as if you’re wearing a couple ite-

He interrupts your thought before you can finish it.

“I quite like it, it’s pretty on you,” his voice breaks your train of thought. His smile is quite literally dripping with mischief, and now you can clearly see it. The tint of greed in his eyes is back as he moves his fingers that were formerly resting on your chin to stroke at the earring on your ear. His composed facade would have fooled you if it weren’t for the words he utters next.

“It gives off the feeling that you’re mine.” 

Oh he likes it, alright. Too much, maybe.

“Sorry. D’you need a break?” NIREI AKIHIKO’s voice is devoid of any teasing lilt, instead dripping with concern as he gazes at you through his eyelashes, eyes half lidded and cheeks flushed with a pretty tint of pink. 

It’s not the words by themselves. It’s the fact that he’s saying those words in this kind of situation. By this kind of situation, you mean with you perched up on his lap, legs splayed on either side of his thighs as he lay seated on a couch beneath you. He had uttered those exact words after what felt like 10 minutes straight of kissing

(it hadn’t even been 5 minutes, but you could barely think with how clouded your mind is). 

His question was thoroughly leaking with worry, caramel orbs boring through you as he awaits your reply. You wanted to say yes, hell, your lungs were begging you to say yes as they heaved desperately yes. You have to give your boyfriend credit, though. Sweet like always, he had noticed he had gone a little too far when he felt your lips part with breathless whines on his, and had asked if you needed a time out. Though, you don’t think he’s aware of how his voice shakes with want, or how his fingers that are resting on your hips squeezed hard like he was trying to ground himself, or how his eyes are swirling with something akin to need.

(or how he barely sounded apologetic when he apologized, and you suspect it’s because his pride soars with the knowledge that he’s the one making you breathless.)

“No,” you’re surprised at how hoarse your voice sounds, though, that is to be expected after you quite literally just had your breath taken away. Your thumb reaches out to swipe at his quivering bottom lip, gleaming with saliva and a little swollen from pressing against yours repeatedly. He leans into your touch, and you gulp away the feeling of your tugging heartstrings. “Keep kissing me, lover boy.” 

And as he lurches forward to clash your lips together again, the last thought that etches on your mind was that he really should put this on his resume: Nirei Akihiko, 16, not good at fighting (yet), hella good at kissing. 

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

istg i check your blog religiously 😭 can i request ghost x reader that is rlly insecure of how she looks and bc shes so shy, so she never expected to be in a relationship bc she doesn't believe she ever rlly deserved that, and thinks that ghost will leave her eventually, so when he finds out he comforts her. so like angst to fluff

—Nervous Eyes

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [No one understands how you two get along - not when you're so different. It makes you second-guess yourself. He notices.] ❞

You sit at the bar and turn around your glass of Bourbon, the amber liquid sitting at the bottom as you blink at your reflection with slow eyes. It was late, but you were far from drunk—not even a light buzz was addling your brain with honied thoughts or actions. No, there would be none of that tonight. 

Not when the woman was still hanging off Simon’s arm like a bad rash. 

She was pretty, you admitted; beautiful, even. A sort of natural confidence and the looks to pair—ones that most people would go under a knife for without a second thought. Swallowing down saliva and not the alcohol, you tighten your lips and shove down the feeling in your throat. You shouldn’t be acting like this; you had no reason to. 

There was no doubt in Simon’s loyalty or intentions, but your insecurities still lingered. He’d tried to shove the lady off of him as soon as she’d showed up—growling a ‘piss off’ and a flash of his dark brown gaze. Anyone without a death wish would have darted away immediately; maybe fled the country to be safe. She’d instead taken up the seat next to him and was talking up a storm as his fingers tightened over the tabletop. 

Breathing out slowly, you try not to look at her, generally placid nature a large factor in your hesitation to come out to this place at all. 

Simon was…a lot, you knew. 

Big, scary; all around intimidating with his balaclava, hoodie, and jacket atop. Black gloves—he screamed serial killer except for the fact of his dog tags that clinked with every swivel of his head to you. 

But the allure to his character was what charmed a lot of people, especially in bars when the drinks started to do the talking.

Sometimes you wonder if it was only a matter of time before he found someone better. Better suited to his… demeanor.

Simon’s fingers tapped the table twice to try and get your attention, side-eyeing you with a blank expression of annoyance at the lady’s constant prattle in his ear. 

The woman loudly continues to talk about her ex-husband not a foot away from his face, trying to get into his pants unabashedly. Rage simmers deeply in his chest, but he won’t cause a scene—he can’t leave either. Not without you, and right now, you’re not even glancing at him. 

When you don’t look up at his tapping, a strange emotion sitting on your normally smiling and bright flesh, Simon goes stiff. His shoulders tighten as he stares; attention entirely on you at all times. He sees your sigh, your intentful staring at your reflection with the occasional darting to the woman’s pristine features. 

It puts something into immediate focus, and the Brit’s eyes go to slits. 

Just as you decide it would be better for you to be drunk, staring to bring your glass to your lips, Simon snaps out at your side.

“Bloody slag,” the bar pauses at the monotone but subsequently harsh words yet quickly picks back up again. “Would you fuckin’ shut your mouth? Bastard’s runnin’ more than your damn husband did.” You choke on your drink, pulling back to cough into your arm violently with a sputtering inhale.

While you catch your breath, wide-eyed staring from over your elbow, the woman gapes and blinks like a deer that had been shot through the ribcage; gasping out stuttered questions.

Simon, in a wave of deep anger, takes out his wallet and slams bills to the bartop, sliding off his stool before gliding past you—taking the meat of your arm and pulling you along. Gently, only the slightest pressure to make sure you don’t stumble as your feet meet the floor. 

In your stupor, you follow after quickly, allowing him to drop his grip. 

“S-Simon, what are you—?” When you’re outside, you’re instantaneously corralled down the side of the bar, latched onto, and lifted easily so you’re over one of the man’s shoulders. You yelp, your face burning like fire as your voice goes high-pitched. “Simon!” 

“Seen the way you’ve been lookin’ at yourself,” He grunts out, gritting his teeth as your hands dig into his spine for stability. But he knew just the right amount of force to keep you from falling. “What…? You think I’d give that old broad a good shag? Throw away the prize that I’ve got right in front of me?” 

A harsh scoff echoes out, and seconds later you’re plopped down onto the top of a stack of pallets, hands slapping beside your hips and a clothed face millimeters from your own. You suck in a gasp and stare, entranced by how the lights burst inside of Simon’s pupils as he towers over you, a wall of muscle and will.

“I-I didn’t…I don’t,” you stutter, mouth opening and closing. “I’m not…���

His eyes narrow, scrutinizing you down to your marrow. “Not what, then? Say it.”

There’s no getting out of this.

“Simon,” you see his lips thin through his mask and you sigh, looking away instantly from the shame that courses your bloodstream. To force the words out was a physical pain to you, a dent in your lifespan. Your skin burns and the sting of embarrassment comes into your eyes. 

“I’m not…pretty…” The man stills to near stone, eyes twitching a centimeter wider before they, too, halt all movement. “You shouldn’t have to be bothered every time someone better looking comes over because they don’t realize you’re seeing me—because they’d never think we’d be together. I…I don’t want you to think you’re weighed down by a…a…” 

You lose your train of thought, and the only word coming to mind is a sharp knife to your chest. You glare at this chest, at his tags as they swing, and clench your jaw, taking down shallow breaths from your nostrils. 

Simon utters the very word you dread in a tiny voice, accent deep, “...burden.” 

All you do is shakily nod as the minutes roll past—the shadows grow longer and the night colder. Simon stares and stares, chest pounding with a fast heart and a tight wind of bulk. 

His hands at your hips tighten into fists, grunting, “That’s the worst fuckin’ thing I’ve ‘ad to hear in ages.”

You blink away your unshed tears, darting your vision back up before a hand connects with your jaw and angles it up, balaclava shifted to his nose bridge as Simon pressed his lips to yours in a breath-stealing kiss. Opening your legs, he drags you forward by the small of your back and presses you to him with a growl, hearing your small mewl in answer. 

His grip is firm and all-consuming, as it always is, and his mouth gives the tinge of alcohol and conviction. Hand on the back of your skill, you shudder and sink into him as he presses deeply, dragging each other back and forth with gasps and smacking flesh. Your hands grasp at Simon’s shirt, trailing his abs as he moves back with a grunt and a lick at his red lips.

Saliva gets caught in the corner of his mouth. 

“I’m not leavin’ you unless I get my head blown to bloody bits,” he frowns, dead eyes darting up and down your blown eyes and panting breath. A flicker of a smirk dashes his expression. “So forget about it, Love.” 

Simon’s gaze flashes with a soft reassurance, humming under his breath before he leans in once more. 

“No one tastes like you do,” you drag him back into you as he mutters on your eager lips. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x FWB!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon "Ghost" Riley, Reader

Summary: Nothing good ever comes from a text after dark... or does it? Guess it depends on who it is and what they need. If it's a certain Lieutenant, then it's bound to be something worth your while.

Word Count: 3.2 k

Warnings:

Part 2:

BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.

You up?

Need you. Now.

Can’t wait.

The repetitious vibrations from your phone pull your attention away from the open book resting against your thighs and over to where it lay on your mattress next to you. Grabbing it, you press the button on the side that turns on the screen and check the clock in the upper right hand corner. It’s later than you thought, but being the night owl you are meant that you were still up messing about even if you shouldn’t be.

He knew it.

Rolling over to your side as you read and reread the short messages, discarding your book to the other side of the bed, the sudden racing pulse through your veins makes your stomach cartwheel. It didn’t take much these days to get your body aching for a certain Lieutenant, not when he’s texting you shit like that at this hour.

As quickly as your fingers can type you text Ghost back, an instantaneous need swelling inside at the thought of being with him again.

And what if I am?

You need something?

Not even a minute passes before your phone buzzes to life again and quickly you read the bubble that pops up on screen.

Are you going to get that sweet arse over here or not, luv?

A flutter in your chest makes your breath hitch as you jump up from your bed and throw on whatever articles of clothing that are within reach; time is of the essence. Doesn’t matter what the hell it is when you know Ghost will be tearing them off you the moment you get to him anyway. Things usually get hot and heavy pretty fast when you two are together, so the only real rule that you stood by was less is best as that meant you could get to the deed that much quicker.

Both of you knew why you’d be there, no sense in beating around the bush when he could immediately be diving into one.

With slow, careful movements and silent steps, you leave your quarters and set out across the base towards your superiors room. Once you’re outside you keep to the shadows, trying to minimize any unwanted attention to the fact you are out far too late and that your destination just happens to be where the officers are housed; getting stopped now will not be ideal. The closer you get the more warm your cheeks become as sensitive nerve endings spark to life across your limbs and a familiar heat gathers between your thighs.

He’s already waiting for you when you arrive. Your knuckles barely touch the surface of the door before you hear the lock click and the door swings open to reveal a shirtless, brown-eyed Adonis staring straight back at you. It’s clear from his ruffled, unkempt locks and wrinkled sweatpants that he had not been successful in trying to get to sleep before his desire grew into a beast too difficult to handle alone.

"Fancy meeting you here," you pick at him as he reaches for your arm and pulls you into the confines of his dimly lit room, the door quickly closing behind you both with a quiet latch. “What’s that, like the third time this week alone?”

As he turns back to you Ghost’s sight locks to your body, slowly taking you all in as he eyes you up and down, hunger glistening through his gaze. "Is that complaining I hear?" he smirks. "I’m not apologizin’, luv. Do you know what you fucking do to me?"

"I have an idea," you breathe as that imposing figure of prime masculinity moves in closer, "but you know I’ve always been a bit of a visual learner, so why don't you show me again?"

A smile that could make Satan blush flashes across his lips and with a growl that sets you shivering with anticipation, Ghost closes the short distance between you and leans in, pulling you against his warm, tight chest as he meets your mouth greedily with his.

“mmm … mmh… !” he groans into you.

A series of frantic, heated kisses overwhelm your lips as if he is trying to devour every bit of that soft, full pout as he can; how can someone’s kiss feel like heaven? Your rapidly palpating heart makes your head buzz as he pours his desire into you and you respond in kind by meeting his intensity with your own.

Breaking away for only a moment, his hands now grasping at your shirt take hold and pull the scant article up over your head and off to remove any barrier between the both of you. He tosses it out of the way and moves back against you, nearly crushing you in between him and the door as he can’t stand being separated.

Warm breath is at the side of your head. "Need to feel you," he groans near your ear before taking the lobe in his teeth and giving it a bite. Your ears pick up the sound of his breath hitching as he comes apart at the sensation of your breasts plastered to his chest, hands surveying the rest of the skin available to him.

“Goddamn, I feel like I’m on fuckin’ fire. Don’t know what spell you fucking have me under sweetheart, but it’s becomin’ a problem.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” you say against his swollen lips, “to become your problem.”

“Fucking hell,” he groans before his mouth latches back on to your own.

You already are.

Fiery kisses assault your mouth in desperate fashion as if he hadn’t seen you in weeks. That insatiable appetite is something of a marvel as you both had been messing around for a couple of months and yet his texts seem to come at a more frequent rate now than when you started. Nothing is more euphoric than to be desired to the point of obsession, especially when it came to someone like the Lieutenant; there’s something primal in the way a big man possesses you.

Without warning his hands clasp securely around your waist as he picks you up so that you can wrap your thighs around his hips, your back slamming harshly against the door for leverage. The sound of your body bouncing off the surface echoes through the quiet room as that sculpted body of his presses firmly into you so the prominence of his arousal can be felt as he grinds it up into the crotch of your pants.

His face is still joined to yours and the sensation of his tongue pressing against your mouth brings you back to reality, impatiently knocking for entry, and you part your lips so that he can slip the thick muscle inside. He shoves it within the confines of that wet cavern so that it can do its exploring while it dances alongside your own tongue; he sure does enjoy keeping all your holes nice and stuffed full.

It’s not enough, though; he needs more.

You both are on the move now and you have to lock your arms around his shoulders to hang on as he makes the short distance to the bed not a few feet from where you are and sets you down. He kneels before you on the floor, pulls you to the edge, and in one swift motion his hands are on your pants before they are suddenly off you and next to him.

Even in the dim light of the small room, you can see how his eyes shimmer with lust and want, a predators gaze just before they go in for the kill. This man would be the death of you, but what a glorious death it would be.

“Lay back for me,” he demands and you follow.

A powerful grip is placed on each one of your inner thighs to spread them wide as Ghost moves them to sit on his shoulders where they will rest as he works. Leaning in towards your cunt he goes in face first with no hesitation like a starved man read to eat his first meal in days.

With shaky hands you cling to the sheets for dear life as the he nestles the tip of his tongue between your petals, gathering your sweet juices along his taste buds as he drags it across the length, teasing circles around your aching clit before thrusting up against it. There he begins to stroke with languid movements along that organ of pleasure, go in with all he has amidst the sound of your mewls at the pleasurable sensation.

Goddamn you taste good.

That face with its beautifully chiseled features is buried so deep in you Ghost can hardly breathe, but he has never felt more alive. The way you feel, the way you taste, the way your hips writhe against his movements all work together to fuel the passion for your cunt. On his knees between your legs is his favorite place to be, listening to the symphony you make, even with the threat that you’d lock your legs around his head; god, he hoped you would.

Your eyes clamp themselves shut as your head falls back while another back-arching vibration of pleasure hits your clit and you bite your bottom lip hard, trying to remember how to breathe when your brain had lost all its functions. Ghost’s intense pace never slows even as you writhe violently across his face, your sweet nectar coating itself across his cheeks. Oh no, it only fuels him more; he’d drown against you and still say thank you.

Ghost’s hands move up further on your hips suddenly, pulling you against his face until he is latched so securely that you can not buck him off. There is not anywhere for you to go at this point and the only thing you can do is ready yourself as that warmth in your stomach grows stronger and stronger, your toes curling with each thrust of his tongue.

Releasing your grip on the sheets, you bring your hand down and ruffle your fingers through his hair and he moans into you. “Sh-shit,” you stutter breathless. The pace is steady, sucking and stroking, but it’s intense as the minutes pass without any sign of him letting up. You know there will be no mercy found for you here; Ghost will stop when his job is done and not a second before.

Tiny beads of sweat speckle your body as you burn under his touch and he smirks against you, feeling how hard he is working you as the perspiration hits his fingertips. The pressure was overwhelming and your hips rock with him trying to get you there.

There is nothing more beautiful than the mess he is always making out of you lately and if he has his way he will keep you on your back almost constantly.

Pressure building, warmth gathering, the precipice within reach with each stroke. Relentless he feasts with fervor until your eyelids flutter shut.

Right there. It’s right fucking there. Just a few more licks of his tongue, a few more precise hits and that is going to be all.

It’s coming, the plunge. Ghost’s fingernails are piercing the skin of your hips as a few more deliberate strokes of his tongue on your clit cause your butt to lift up of the bed as your orgasm rips through you.

Your thighs clamp around his ears, blocking him in against you and yet he doesn’t stop. The entirety of your ecstasy you ride out with him licking and sucking until you sink into the mattress, breathing through the pleasure. After a moment you look down to see the demon emerge from you with a smirk strung across his mouth that sparkles with your slick.

Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, he sighs and stands to his feet, fingers capturing the drawstrings to his pants and with a pull the tie untangles itself so that the slack fabric can hang low on his hips.

“What?” you play, knowing what he wants and even though you are still catching your breath, you are more than ready to give in to him.

“You know damn well what. Night’s still young, luv,” he says as he slips the waistband down even lower, “and now it’s my turn.”

He isn't finished with you yet, not even close.

His desire is beyond reason now, even more than before, and it fills his gaze as he stares back at you. No movement yet as Simon allows that bit of tension to linger in the air before he pounces.

Fuck anymore foreplay, this can’t hold off any longer.

Those legs of yours you have kept open, inviting him back, but this time with his cock instead of his tongue. He moves back in, dropping his pants off his legs and stepping out of them. A quick order he barks to move back further onto the bed has you scooting and he is following you, crawling across the surface with the power and grace of a lion before he goes in for the kill.

“You ready for me, princess?” he growls.

You stare back at him, big doe-eyed gaze watching him as he prepares to claim you again. “Give it to me,” you say and that is all the confirmation needed.

Sliding between your thighss as he parts them as easily as a knife through warm butter, he pushes one back where your knee is near your chest while the other is straight beneath him; he wants to get as deep as he fucking can. There is no hesitation as with a strong thrust he is fully inside of you down to the very base of his cock, his balls bouncing off your ass.

“Ahh…” you cry out as you stretch to capacity to accommodate all of him, your fingernails dig into the muscles along his shoulders as your body adjusts to his mighty girth.

Ghost bottoms out and needs a second to collect himself; he’s had you countless times at this point, but every single time the sensation your body gives him is enough to make the man see God.

“Goddamn sweetheart, the way you feel around my fucking cock,” he groans, “just want to keep it in you at all times. If I had my way, you’d stay on your back all day every day.”

Obsession is not quite the word, but you already have the man wrapped around your little finger. The things he'd do to have you at this point border on the diabolical.

There is no holding back once he starts thrusting in and out, desperate to find his rhythm, not with how wet and tight you are; it is paradise. Soon enough that pace is set and you are joining him in grinding your hips against his pelvis. Ghost rests his forehead against yours, rough, strong fingers finding your hands so that they can lace themselves in between the paces of your own as he holds them above your head. The building pressure causes him to start panting.

“O-OHH, FUCK…!!” he exclaims as you tighten yourself on his cock, putting those kegel practices to good use just to see him falter.

It is not expected and throws him off a moment; he’s the one that is suppose to be showing that pussy who’s boss, but you’ve taken the reins with that one move. Someone is bound to hear him and yet he can’t be bothered to quiet himself. If you want to make sure this stays a secret, you shouldn’t pull moves that can bring him to his proverbial knees.

Time after time he feels the need to remind you in breathless moans how you are his, but if Ghost is honest you have him fucking whipped; not that he is going to let you know that. Still, if you pay close enough attention you will be able to tell the signs, like the way he is utterly falling apart now. Fuck, he needs to come so bad now he can taste it.

Desperately he grinds harder and harder into you as if he cannot get deep enough, like he cannot fill you full enough. He needs to take over your entire being, possess every single last centimeter of you, steal away all your sanity until there is nothing left of you but him.

Releasing your hands, he moves back to sit taller on his knees so that he can put the most leverage behind his thrusts. He helps you to reposition so that both of your thighs are now secure high on his hips; you are going to need to hang on for this. Abdominals are straining along his torso, contracting down with each movement until they are coated in a thin, glistening layer of perspiration.

“Com’ on, pretty girl, you goin’ to give me another?” he grunts. The knot in your brows and the way your mouth hangs slack must say it all. He’s going to make you come again.

You nod furiously, focusing on that warm gathering in the pit of your stomach. “That’s it, sweetheart, com’ on. I deserve to feel you this time. Com' on my cock, slather it nice and proper.”

Hips rolling as if his life depends on it, he reaches down between your bodies to play with your clit. It’s working, your back is arching, and release is gaining on you. “Yes, y-yes,” you choke out.

The pressure is overwhelming and your hips buck, the pain of over-stimulation turning to pleasure as your body readies itself to shoot that hot electricity through your limbs. Ghost presses the pad of his finger harshly up against your clit and with his thrusts working inside you, that is finally enough to make you spill.

Your second orgasm rockets through you, causing you to clamp down on him with fluttering walls. The sensation is enough to cause that deep ache to finally find its remedy and his pulls out of you quickso that he can coat your torso with his cum. You quickly reach down and grab his cock, stroking out all his has to give until he is shuddering and please with you to stop.

He has to sit back on his heels and just breathe a moment before he can move to grab something to clean you off, but soon he’s able to go off and grab you a towel, handing it to you as he falls on the bed beside you while you finish wiping off the last of his cream.

“So, I guess that means we’re done here right?” you playfully tease him as you throw the towel aside and lay back down.

Strong arms enfold you and pull him to his chest as he smirks, the euphoria of his orgasm still coursing through his veins.

He catches your mouth with his to shut you up. “You should know fucking better than that, luv,” he says, nipping at your lips. “Price may own you when the sun is up, but that still a ways off. You and that sweet cunt of yours are mine until then.”

Hell, he cannot seem to ever get enough of you no matter how many times you frequent his bed. Those strong fingers draw lazy circles across your back, making you tingle as you come back down from your high

You chuckle sleepily, the consequences of you staying up so late mixing with the act you just performed. “I’ll be so tired, not gonna be able to run drills properly.”

“More complainin’?” he retorts. “I must not have finished the fucking job yet. You’ve been doin’ just fine with keeping up with your duties so far. Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’ll make sure your proper exhausted just as I always do.”

[venusbyline]

Nate Jacobs NSFW Alphabet

⚠️: Smut, Nate Jacobs x Female Reader, slightly switch!Nate, mention of cnc.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Nate isn't the aftercare biggest fan, he only cares about it if you're already in real relationship. He'll probably lie in bed with you, watching a random movie on TV while cuddleing you against his chest, or massaging your shoulders and feet before you fall asleep.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He's very proud of his muscles. He worked hard to have a body as attractive as that, so he definitely brags about it a lot. He also knows he's lucky to be so tall.

I think Nate's an ass guy. It doesn't matter if your ass size, he loves squeezing and biting your soft skin. But in non-sexual context, I think the part of you he loves most it's your eyes. If you give him that puppy dog eyed... Girl, this man will become even more madly in love. The innocent vibes it's everything to him (even if you're not and he knows it).

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

Remember what I said about Nate loving your ass? If you're taking it doggy style, you can bet he'll take his cock out first just to cum on your ass.

If you're giving him head, he'll wanna cum on your face. He loves the feeling when he sees your pretty cheeks covered by his cum.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Nate'll never admit it if you ask, but he LOVES being choked and slightly degraded. He'll wanna make you jealous on purpose, just to see you to get on top, riding his cock and grabbing his throat with your little hands, cursing him with anything your angry brain can think of.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

It's kinda obvious, but Nate's VERY experienced. He has already fucked so many girls from that city. Sometimes it gets depressing for you, knowing how many your classmates have already been fucked by your boyfriend in the past.

HOWEVER, you're the first girl who has really able to explore his switched/submissive side. Before Nate dating you, he never let anyone sexually dominate him (even gently).

F = Favorite Position (Pretty self explanatory)

Doggystyle. This guy loves feeling you so small under him, his whole big body covering yours as he fucks your pussy, so rough and listening to you whining. If you start moaning too loud, he might grab your throat or cover your mouth with his hand (we know Nate's hand it's REALLY big, so don't be surprised if he ends up covering your face too much).

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous?)

Well... Nate's very serious. He has anger issues and lives with a dark mind, in addition to having his own character deviations. So let's say that he uses sex as a way to de-stress and let out all his frustrations. Often.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes)

No hair. Nate's obsessed with his personal hygiene, to the point where he thinks his own pubic hair it's disgusting. As time goes, maybe you'll be able to convince him this is nonsense, but he'll still get sullen and probably shave it all off the moment the brown hairs starting show up.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

We know Nate's more aggressive. He's not very romantic during sex and you already knew what you were getting into before you started dating him. But if you have a rough day, maybe he'll take it easy and try to be more soft. However, don't expect the romantic aspect being a routine.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Curiously, Nate doesn't jack off that much. Before he met you, he always got some random girls to distract him. Now he has you, he doesn't have to worry about that. But he keeps some pictures and amateur home videos that you two made so he can use it as motivation for moments when he's alone and needs cumming.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

As I said before: choking, giving and receiving.

Spanking, he loves spanking your ass, your face... Any part of your body you allow.

He really likes degrading you, especially if he's jealous. He calls you an attention whore and says you're just a stupid whore... If he's in a good mood, he's a little less rude or uses a more soft voice (maybe calling you "MY stupid little whore, MY attention whore...)

Breeding kink AS FUCK. Nate fucks you and talks dirty about getting you pregnant. So considering that... he has creampie too, it's obvious. Despite his fucked up Daddy issues, I think he likes being called Daddy in sex.

Things like pulling your hair and spitting on your mouth and face too. Draciphilia's also his kink, your tears flowing while he fucks you and humiliates you make you even hotter.

A light CNC/rapeplay too, but he doesn't know how telling you that, so he'd rather just picturing it for a while. But if he ever tells you and you consent and set your limits, you'll discover an even darker side of your boyfriend.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Party bathrooms and his truck. He loves taking risks, the idea of someone seeing you in a vulnerable moment like that makes him fucking jealous and turns him on even more.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

The moment Nate starts feeling jealous, he becomes aggressive and horny. AND HE'S ALWAYS JEALOUS!

Your innocent and worried look at him when he's angry about his personal issues their also things that turns him on a lot. He knows he NEEDS to fuck you at that moment.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nate won't share you. He's been totally against threesomes since he started dating you. Even though he was a huge womanizer, nowadays he still wouldn't feel comfortable seeing a woman touch you either.

Much less a man. He would rather be killed than let another man touch you, his girlfriend, only his.

If you dare suggesting something like this, you can be sure that will cause one of the worst arguments in your entire relationship.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

As good as Nate's at eating you out, I feel like he'd rather you give him head. He loves taking control of this situation, making you kneel and take his cock to the back of your throat. He grabs your hair and forces you trying to fit every inch of his member into your mouth, also controlling the speed.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc)

Nate likes fast and rough thrusts, to the point where the noises of your hips clashing and your loud moans echo throughout his house. Therefore if you're having sex in secret in a public place, he covers your mouth to avoid interruptions and trouble.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc)

Nate's the real biggest fan of quickies. Anywhere it's time. Are you at a party? He just drags you to the bathroom and fucks you there.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc)

He takes a lot of risks, especially due sex in public places.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

Because of his athletic body and because he's already used to very rough training routines, Nate can last a long time, so you're sure cumming many times. As for the number of rounds, I think he cums twice. Although he's not really tired and can keeping going if both of you want, it ends up not being so euphoric.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

There aren't so many toys for you two using... Who needs them when you have those huge hands or his own belt spanking you if you're being a brat? But... Let's say that sometimes he likes using some dildos and a Hitachi Magic Wand on you, seeing you crying and overstimulated, dripping for him.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Nate loves teasing you, he wants seeing you beg for him, begging for his cock. He may deny your orgasms or let you feeling overstimulated until you need to use your safe word.

But don't you dare tease him back when you're on top, it won't end well for you after sex.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

When Nate's dominating you, he barely makes sounds other than dirty talk. Just some low growling and swearing. But when he's punishing you or rapeplaying, he won't mind yelling at you as many times as he wants.

When you're dominating him, he's more vocal and really likes whining for you.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

When Nate loses a football match, he gets angry easily. He pushes himself too hard and ends up taking it out on you, yelling that you distracted him from his goals or something like that. But all of this always ends after angry sex. Once, you were so tired of his explosive behavior that you decided he needed learning to use his mouth to something more useful.

You knew that behind that angry and aggressive facade, your boyfriend was just frustrated with himself, so you needed to show that you weren't disappointed with him. It wasn't long before he was lying on the bed, you on top of his face using it to rub your pussy while he swallowed your juices and jerked off his own cock, rubbing his nose against your clit and whining muffledly, as you moaned loud and called him a good boy.

X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

I think his cock it's about 7.5 inches, quite rosy and thick enough to always makes you scream by pain and pleasure when he gets inside your pussy roughly. Sometimes you literally can see the shape of his cock marking the soft skin of your stomach as he fucks you.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Very high. He's Nate Jacobs, don't expect anything less that from him.

Z = ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It takes a while for him to start feeling sleepy, so you can be sure that you'll sleep well before he does.

[deakyjoe]

Stormy Skies

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader (no pronouns used I think)

Category: friends to lovers

Summary: Din breaks you out of an Imperial prison (loosely based on chapter 15).

Warnings: angst, fluff, touched-starved Din, helmet is off, prison, nasty guards, restraints, bad men, talks of death, separation, loose implication of what bad men can do, pet names (cyar’ika), canon-divergence (I guess??), when I say loosely based I mean very loosely based

Word count: 5.5k

A/N: Sad, brown-eyed, pathetic love of my life. (He's not pathetic but I’ll make him pathetic.) Din is slightly out of character but only because he's head over heels in love and feeling all soft and squishy inside about it. He's also a little insecure. Poor guy. It's purposefully ambiguous about how long reader has been imprisoned, so guess however long you'd like.

Consider buying me a coffee :)

It took three weeks, four days, sixteen hours and twenty two minutes before you realised that the inside of this Imperial prison would be the only thing you saw for the foreseeable future. The three walls and one row of bars now being your home. After that you resigned yourself to the idea that you'd be there forever so you stopped counting the days, the weeks, the... months? You didn't know how long you'd been there and you didn't want to know how long either.

All you knew is that you wanted to leave. Not because you were scared of death or scared of never seeing the outside world again. But because you missed two very important people in your life. The big, scary Mandalorian who had hired you just under a year ago as his mechanic and his strange green son who had weird superpowers who you sometimes babysat. The both of them meant the world to you and the idea of never seeing them again hurt you. You feared for the child's life as he had also been taken at the same time as you but had been imprisoned elsewhere, probably to be experimented on. And you feared for the state of your Mandalorian who would be lost without his kid.

"Food."

The announcement made your stomach lurch as it knocked you out of your thoughts. A small plate, with a pile of something in the middle, was pushed into your cell - probably the most unappealing thing in the galaxy but your only source of nutrition. Your mind strayed to nicer things as you desperately tried to ignore the revolting taste.

You thought of days spent in the Razor Crest, your Mandalorian's ship, as the three of you travelled from planet to planet in order for bounties to be collected. The memories of attempting to teach the child to speak some words in Basic but only getting baby babbling in response, it didn't matter as his eyes always shone as if he knew what you were saying to him.

You ached for your clan of three to be reunited, but realistically you knew that was unlikely. If anything, you just wanted Grogu to be safe. Back with Din and safe. And there was no place safer for him than under the care of Din Djarin.

A guard walking into your cell had you scrambling back against the wall as he took your plate from you and laughed, slightly muffled by his helmet. He kicked at the chain bound around your feet and walked out again, locking the bars behind him.

He was your least favourite of everyone who served in your section of the prison. He didn't seem to like you very much, and wasn't afraid to show it. You feared that one day he'd use the power he had over you to do something awful. So, for now, you tried to play as nice as possible with him.

The sound of low chattering caught your attention, the unmistakable noise of Stormtrooper armour bashing against itself making its way down the corridor. Plastic against plastic made an unbearable racket. You looked up to peek through the bars of your cell and crawled towards the sound, hoping that they weren't coming for you. If you could guess from the sound of them alone, you'd say there were about three or four of them. Definitely more than two and probably less than five.

Your assumption was proven correct when three Troopers turned the corner at the end of the hallway. One was clearly in charge, leading the other two. You thought his name was... you didn't know actually. And you didn't care either. But he was their superior. But the other two... They were low ranking officers, obvious by their uniform and the way they looked around as if they'd never seen the inside of a prison before. Maybe it was their first day on the job? Boy, were they in for a surprise.

The bald one seemed vaguely familiar, although he looked like pretty much any other guy in the galaxy so you didn't dwell on it too much. The other one, however, held no resemblance to anyone you'd ever seen before. He had sad eyes.  That was the first thing you noticed about him. Sad, brown eyes. Along with a strong nose that matched his face. Golden skin. And messy hair along with unkempt facial hair. Very un-Trooperish. You wondered how he managed to get away with it. He was rather beautiful to look at. You pushed the thought away with a reminder of what he was - Empire.

As they got closer, you began to overhear their conversation. They were talking about some battle that had been fought a while ago, lots of soldiers lost. Baldy appeared mildly upset as he disclosed that some of his friends had died. Brown eyes wasn't listening and clearly searching for something. And he seemed to find it when his eyes landed on you.

He paused for the smallest fraction of a second before he carried on walking with the other two. He stared at you but you didn't back down, staring right back through the cell bars. You wouldn't let a Trooper intimidate you, especially not a new one. A sense of achievement hit you when he finally looked away, swallowing thickly and averting his gaze as far away from you as possible. He nudged the bald guy next to him with his elbow and tilted his head in your direction.

What the fuck did these guys want with you? You shivered at the thought, a million horrifying ideas running through your brain. You relaxed slightly when they disappeared around the next corner.

The rest of the day passed slowly, as they all did, and soon enough the lights were going out and all prisoners were warned to stay silent for the next few hours. You shifted to get your body in the most comfortable position possible, pretty difficult when you had chains restraining your limbs, and laid down, resting your head in the crook of your elbow.

You drifted off easily, the low drone of the power running through the walls and the floor lulling you to sleep. With nothing to do all day, zero access to natural light and limited portions of food you were tired all of the time. And the little energy you had was reserved for keeping your defences up when guards entered your cell on rare occasions.

Your dreams were full of Din and Grogu, as usual, and you often wondered during your conscious moments whether your brain was reminding you of happy moments to keep you sane or telling you what you'd had and what you'd lost as a way of punishing you.

What you didn't expect was to be awoken a short time later by your cell door being unlocked, the clanging of the metal shocking you out of your dreams. You sat up instantly, freezing when two looming figures walked in, whispering to each other in hushed tones.

The two Troopers from earlier.

You felt sick.

They were both wearing their helmets now and their heads snapped towards you when your chain scraped across the floor painfully. The broader one, who seemed to be leading the team of two, stalked towards you slowly.

"No, no, no, no!" You kicked at him as he went for your ankles trying, and failing, to fight him off. The breath spilling from your lungs was panicked as you failed to notice the other guy groaning and sticking his arms out to tell you to be quiet.

Your name came through the Trooper helmet in a familiar, reassuring voice. It was Din. Your Mandalorian. You'd never felt such a sense of relief race through your body as you relaxed underneath his touch.

"Mando?" You avoided using his real name around other people, as you'd agreed when he first told you. It was a small price for such a wonderful gift. His name. "You're here. You came for me?"

"Yes." He fumbled with your restraints, managing to get the ones off your ankles and moving to the ones on your wrists.

You looked at the other guy who had slipped his helmet off at some point. The bald guy. "Hang on. I saw you earlier. You walked through here with that guy in charge and-" Your eyes snapped back to Din. "That was you."

He was looking at you through the helmet, you could tell. "Come on, we don't have much time."

"B-but... you... your face." Your voice was weak, mind scrambling back to the memory of him. Brown eyes. Sad eyes. Messy hair. Unkempt facial hair. Strong nose. Golden skin. Beautiful.

He faltered. "I know. I did what had to be done."

"You broke your creed." You were almost crying. "To save me."

Hesitation. "Yes, of course. Come on."

The shackles finally fell from your wrists and you launched yourself at him, embracing him even if you were in a life or death situation.

"Thank you."

He seemed uncertain at the gesture as his arms slowly wrapped around your waist. "You don't have to thank me."

You pulled away quickly, not wanting to push it and make him uncomfortable. "Yes, I do." Looking back at the bald guy as you stood up, you squinted at him. "You're familiar."

"Mayfeld." He had a smirk on his face as he watched the interaction between you and Din, sticking out his hand in greeting but you ignored it. "You're welcome for this, by the way. I'm the main reason we're here right now saving you."

His name reminded you of who he was, a scowl settling over your face. "I appreciate it. But we're not out yet. They have people guarding everywhere. And I mean everywhere."

"It won't be a problem." Din's voice was low as he straightened up.

"How do you know so much about this place, hm?" Mayfeld asked you, stepping slightly closer.

"I may have attempted an escape... once or twice." You shrugged and kicked your restraints away from your feet. "That's why I was chained to the wall."

The two men were silent as they stared at you, Mayfeld looking surprised and Din's gaze burning into you despite being obscured by the helmet.

"I know their rotation schedules, how long of a gap there is between shift changes and which Troopers like me best so will leave the handcuffs a little looser." You looked between the two of them. "What? I had time to plan."

"And what have we got now?" Din questioned, glancing back at the open bars. "Anything scheduled to happen?"

You thought it over for a moment, glancing at the clock just outside of your cell. "Shift change in about six minutes. There will be a thirty-three second gap where the doors are unmanned."

"We can work with that." The Mandalorian replied, producing a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket.

A sick feeling settled in your stomach at the sight of them. "Ah, so I'm fake prisoner. Right?"

"In case we come across anyone." Mayfeld explained, a smug grin on his face. "Need to make it believable that we're moving you to a new cell."

With a nod, you looked back up to Din. "Be gentle, okay?"

"Of course, cyar'ika."

You sighed, storing away the nickname to ask about it later. "Where's Grogu?"

His fists clenched by his sides, the leather of his gloves squeaking. "They still have him."

Bile rose in your throat. "What?"

Why was he here if the child was still missing?

"Maker, why are you here?" You asked him, pushing at his shoulder. "You need to save him!"

"I'm here to save you." He was already bored with you again, you could tell by the lack of emotion in his voice. Maybe he was regretting saving you.

"I could have waited! Grogu's a baby!" You cried, worry settling in your stomach at the thought of your poor, poor Grogu possibly being tortured and experimented on whilst you were swooning over Din rescuing you.

"They had information on the kid's location here as well." The Mandalorian offered.

That made more sense. "Ah, so it wasn't just to save me."

"I would've come for you even if they had nothing on him." He sounded annoyed now, frustrated at your questioning.

"Grogu's priority." You turned to Mayfeld. "Why did you let him come here when the child is still missing?"

His hands raised in surrender. "Hey! Don't turn this on me!"

"Be more grateful." Din stated as he walked towards you and turned you around, pulling your hands behind your back to secure them in place with the cuffs. "I could have left you here forever."

You didn't want to admit out loud that what he had just suggested was your worst fear and something you truly believed until he'd showed up. A part of you thought you'd be there for the rest of your life. But you couldn't tell him that. So you offered a weak joke.

"You know what they say... third time's the charm. I'm sure my next attempt at an escape would have worked." The cuffs clicked into place and you tried not to focus on the feeling of being restrained again. You'd spent too long like this, and here you were about to escape and you were back in the same position. It was almost funny.

Din could sense your unease and placed a gloved hand on the small of your back in reassurance.

"Let's go." Mayfeld chimed and marched out of the cell in front of the two of you.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and followed behind, Din's hands locked around yours to make sure the restraints didn't pull too harshly. Weaving in and out of corridors was dangerous, especially with the guards constantly patrolling. Unfortunately, it didn't take long before you bumped into a couple of them.

"Halt!" They shouted, raising their weapons to the three of you. "What are you doing with prisoner five six one?"

There was probably too long of a pause between the question and the answer that was finally given, setting off the initial seed of suspicion.

Mayfeld stepped in with his sly smile. "We were instructed to move the prisoner to a new cell."

The two guards bowed their heads together, mumbling a quick debate. Your hands twitched with nerves behind your back and you felt the Mandalorian trace a thumb over them in comfort. It somewhat worked.

"We'll need you to come with us to confirm." One of them said, straightening up and re-aiming his blaster right at you.

"I'm sorry, cyar'ika." Din grumbled with a sigh behind you before there was a slight squeeze on the side of your neck and you were out.

When you awoke you were surrounded by the sounds of a humming engine and the whirring of the inside of a ship. You jolted up and almost hit your head on the top of the bunk you'd been placed in.

Wait. A bunk?

You looked around you rapidly to suddenly realise that you weren’t just in any bed. You were in Din’s bed. On the Razor Crest.

You jumped out of it and stumbled once you landed on your feet, leaning on the wall for support.

“Woah, woah! Slow down, take it easy.” A modulated voice appeared behind you as strong arms wrapped around your torso to keep you steady.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You slurred, still slightly groggy from being unconscious. “How long was I out?”

“A few hours.” Din replied, letting you turn to look at him. He was back in his Beskar armour, looking as shiny as ever. The sight of him made you smile.

“You knocked me out!” You cried but there wasn’t an ounce of real anguish in your voice. In fact, it was rather playful.

He didn’t seem to pick up on that. “It was necessary.”

You waved your hand at him, showing you weren’t really bothered by that. So you approached the subject you were really affected by. “You saved me.”

“Yes.” His voice was a gentle rasp as he spoke the singular word. He was never much of a talker. But you hung on to every word.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“You removed your helmet to save me.” You frowned at him, like you were annoyed at him for breaking his creed.

Another rasp. “Yes.”

“But-“

“But what?”

You laughed like it was obvious. "I don't understand why. I'm just me."

"And it's just a creed."

Your head reared back. "Just a creed?"

"Just you?" He answered back, imitating your tone and inflection.

"That's- Din, it's your life. Being a Mandalorian is everything to you.” You cried, hands waving in emphasis. “Why would you risk that? For me?"

His head tilted to the side in his usual expression of emotion. Or lack of. "This is the Way."

"No.” You snapped. “The Way is not showing your face under any circumstances. And you- you showed your face!"

"To save you."

"Yes!"

The helmet tilted even further. "What part do you not understand?"

"I'm not worth it." You said, hands wringing together in front of you. And you truly believed what you were saying.

"What?"

"Why would you do that for me?"

"I'd do anything for you."

Your mouth snapped shut, the protest you had prepared dying in your throat.

"You and the kid. I'd tear apart this galaxy for the both of you. You're... you're part of my clan."

A part of you wished he'd left you in that prison. If he'd done that then your head wouldn't be spinning and you wouldn't be overwhelmed with emotions at what he was throwing at you in that moment. His clan. You were a member of his clan.

"Din..."

His name was soft from your lips and he sighed slowly at the sound.

"The only way to explain is-" He cut himself off and inhaled, taking a step closer to you. Placing his hand under your chin, he tilted your head up to face him and lowered his helmet so your foreheads rested together. The cold of his armour sent shivers down your spine. Although it might have also been caused by the action of what he was doing, what he was saying.

Din had explained this to you before when you'd asked about affection between the people of Mandalore. It was a way for Mandalorians to kiss without having to show their faces. It was... intimate, to say the least.

Your eyes fluttered shut when the reality of what he was telling you dawned. "Din..."

Another soft whisper of his name had him sighing again.

Unfortunately, he took it the wrong way and pulled back. "You don't have to- The kid and you are important to me. That's... that's what you need to know. About why- why I did this."

You shook your head and smiled at him, hooking your hand around the back of his neck and tugging him down towards you again so your foreheads touched. "And I was willing to die in that prison to keep you and the child safe."

"They... they were planning to kill you?"

"I kept refusing to teach them how to get the kid to use his wizard baby powers. And I wouldn't tell them where you were either. Or how to contact you."

"What did they need me for?"

"See you as a threat. Or to use me as bait. I'm not sure which. Maybe both."

"It would've worked. You as bait. If I didn't already know where you were, of course."

"Of course." You grinned at him and hoped he was smiling back. You tended to guess what his facial expressions were, normally hoping that he was returning whatever you gave him but usually settling on the fact that he was probably bored and his face would show it. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, cyar'ika."

Your stomach flipped at the Mando'a. "What does that mean?"

"It's Mando'a."

"I guessed that. I'm asking for a translation." You rolled your eyes, finally pulling back from the Mandalorian kiss to look at him properly again. "I hope it's something nice."

You could tell he was smiling when he said his next words. They were hesitant, but tender. "It means darling or sweetheart. A term of endearment."

"Oh... that's- that is nice." Mentally berating yourself, you bit on your lower lip to hold back an excited giggle. Nice? There were so many words that were better than nice. "I don't have anything like that where I'm from. If I did I'd-"

He cut you off with a hand cupping your cheek. "I know, cyar'ika. I know."

There was a moment of silence as the two of you just looked at each other. It was broken when Din sighed suddenly and dropped his hand from your cheek.

"I never wanted you to see my face that way."

Oh.

"Din, I-" You cut yourself off to contemplate your words. "I'm sorry that you had to reveal your face. And that I saw. If I'd known... I wouldn't have stared at you."

"No, I didn't mean it like that." He exhaled loudly. "Do you remember? What I look like?"

The memory of his face flashed in your mind. Of course you remembered. Every single detail. And you'd probably secretly treasure it for the rest of your life.

"Yes..."

His head dropped for a second, helmet aimed at the floor, before it suddenly shot back up to meet your gaze. "And?"

"And what?" Having no idea what he was asking of you, your brows scrunched together.

He was so close now that you were sure you'd be able to hear his breathing even without the modulator. "Was I- was I a disappointment?"

"What?" Disbelief ran through you. How could this wonderful, gorgeous man ever be a disappointment? With or without the helmet obscuring his face he had always been and would always be perfect to you.

"Well, you must have had some... some image of what I'd look like in your head."

You immediately disagreed with him. "No, never."

"Don't lie. It's okay. You can tell me."

"I'm not lying. And I am telling you."

"Cyar'ika..."

Your heart did somersaults in your chest. "No, I never conjured up some fantasy of what you'd look like. Because this here-" You gestured at the whole of him, hand waving up and down his body. "-is my Din. This is you to me. Why would I ever warp who you truly are for some made up version?"

"You must've been curious."

You shrugged. "Maybe at the beginning. But who you are on the inside is all that has ever mattered to me."

"So what did you think when you saw my face?"

Your eyes snapped away from his on instinct, embarrassment crawling through you as you recalled your immediate thoughts of him. Thoughts you'd pushed away at the time because you thought he was a Trooper. Thoughts that had resurfaced when you found out that it was really him.

"Oh, no thoughts." Your voice was weak, barely coming out as more than a squeak. It was clear you were lying. "Just that you were a man..."

"Cyar'ika..."

A flush racked through you at the use of the term of endearment. He knew how to make you weak in the knees, how to make you break, you were sure of it.

"Calling me that isn't fair."

"Don't avoid the question." His head tilted to the side. "Tell me. What did you think?"

Unsure at how he'd turned from insecure, sweet Din to a version of Din that had you swooning, you shook your head at him. "I told you. No thoughts."

"And I can tell you're lying. Look at me." He placed his fingers under your chin to angle you to face him. "Tell me."

You started with a small truth. "Your eyes were sadder than I thought they'd be."

He seemed slightly taken aback by that but didn't hesitate too much in answering. "I was scared I'd lost you."

"But I thought you said you didn't know they were planning on killing me?"

"It was always a possibility." He shrugged. "We were getting towards the end of the cells when I saw you. I was... getting nervous. Thought maybe they'd transferred you somewhere else and I'd never find you. Couldn't live with that idea."

If it were possible, you softened even more under his touch. "But you did find me. And I'm here. Safe. Because of you."

"Hmm." He just hummed in agreement, shifting his hand so it moved to cup your jaw instead. "What else?"

You huffed, hoping you'd got out of the line of questioning about your opinions on his appearance. Whilst having openly admitted a whole spout of feelings for each other, you weren't quite ready to declare how absolutely breathtaking he was.

"Don't make me say it."

"Say what, cyar'ika? Hm? I'm just asking."

You leaned into his touch, the warmth from his palm along with the sound of the Mando'a pet name set off a spark within you. When his gloved thumb swooped over your cheek gently you were sure that your brain short circuited.

"You're beautiful, Din."

The statement was breathless but held certainty in it. The Mandalorian didn't reply, too shocked by your confession. He honestly hadn't been expecting you to be so open. And to say that of all things.

So you kept going. "It was never going to matter to me what you looked like underneath the Beskar. Because who you are as a person is the only important thing. But I have to admit that I thought you were gorgeous when you walked past my cell. And then I immediately felt guilty because I thought you were a Trooper." Your head dipped in shame for a moment. "You are beautiful, Din Djarin. Inside and out."

He still said nothing, hands just lifting to the bottom of his helmet.

When you heard the hiss of the seal, your hands slapped across your eyes. "Ah! What are you doing?"

"Taking off my helmet. What are you doing?" He sounded amused.

"Covering my eyes so I don't see obviously." You scoffed and scrunched your eyes beneath your palms.

"Cyar'ika, you've already seen my face."

"So? I might have remembered details wrong."

"Thought you said I was beautiful?"

You huffed, not liking how he was turning that against you. "I did but revealing your identity is a big no-no, Din! That's what the Way says, right?"

"Right." He was holding back laughter.

"Exactly! Doesn't matter if I've seen you before. Might not remember you completely correctly." You remembered him completely correctly. "So we cannot risk you revealing yourself a whole other time."

The way you were so respectful of his creed, no matter how ridiculous you were being at that moment with your hands pressed tightly over your eyes, had Din tingling inside.

"I don't think it's a risk if you've seen me before and you're a part of my clan, hm?"

You grumbled something underneath your breath. "I can't argue with you on Mandalorian culture because you're the expert. But I feel as if you're finding loopholes here."

"Perhaps. Just look."

The sound of his helmet hissing and the dull clang of it hitting the floor had you hesitating before slowly peeling your hands away from your face.

He was exactly how you remembered.

Every line, every scar, every eyelash, every inch of skin, the deep brown of his eyes, the angle of his nose, the unruly tufts of curls atop his head and the uneven patches of facial hair peppered across his jaw and down his neck. This was your Din Djarin. Stood in front of you, everything exposed and exactly how you remembered him. Exactly how you wanted him. Perfect. The whole of him was perfect.

With a stifled sigh of relief, you reached out your hands to cup his face, hesitating for a moment when you realised he might hate that. "Can I?"

He nodded, his eyes looking sad yet hopeful - an improvement from the last time you saw them.

Your palms settled on his cheeks, thumbs swiping over his cheeks and across his bristly stubble. A smile broke across your face when his eyelids closed and he leaned in your touch.

"Oh, Din..." Tears sprang to your eyes yet you couldn't exactly explain why, the flood of emotions was overwhelming.

"Cyar'ika..." He breathed against the skin of your wrist, turning slightly in your grasp to plant his lips against your palm.

You took a step closer to him, encouraging him to duck down and rest his forehead against yours. A Mandalorian kiss, stripped of the barrier between the two of you. He let out a shaky sigh as you made contact, his hair tickling your brow.

"When was the last time someone touched you? Skin on skin?" You needed to know, he was acting like he'd never felt the warmth of physical contact before.

He hummed lowly in his chest as he thought about it, eyes shut tight in contemplation. "My parents, I think."

Your heart ached for him. It had been decades. You wanted more, to give him more, but worried that it might be too much too fast. But you yearned to touch him, to show him how good it could be.

Broken out of your thoughts by a rustling noise between the two of you, you glanced down without breaking away from him to see that he was removing his leather gloves and throwing them to the floor beside you.

You stared at his hands, scars littering both the palms and the backs. You'd never wanted someone to touch you with their hands more.

Din appeared to have the same thought as he hovered them over your sides, fists clenching open and closed. "Can I?"

"Can you what, hm?" You wanted- no needed him to say it, to be as clear as possible between you.

"Touch you. Can I touch you please?" His eyes were still closed but you could see he was restless behind his lids, almost worried even.

"Of course you can."

You expected him to just place his hands on your hips or waist, which he did technically. What you didn't expect was for him to slide his hands underneath the hem of your shirt and place them directly onto your skin, squeezing slightly when he made contact.

You hummed contently in acknowledgement to tell him that it was okay and stepped closer to him, your chest pressing up against the Beskar now.

“Can I kiss you?” The question was sudden, hushed, almost unsure.

You didn’t hesitate in tilting your head upwards and reassuring him of how much you wanted exactly that. “I’m so glad you asked.”

Then his lips were on yours, a relieved sigh exiting him and a content one leaving you.

You moved together in time, like you knew how the other worked and what they wanted. And maybe you did. Maybe you knew each so well, or knew that the other wanted the same thing you did. Din’s thumbs stroked gently at the skin of your waist and yours swiped over his cheeks, brushing away a stray tear that had fallen from his eyes. His sad, brown eyes. You hoped they’d be less sad in the future.

He broke away for a moment to mumble against your lips. "I was so scared I'd lost you."

You shook your head and kissed him again. "I thought I'd never see you again."

“I wouldn’t have left you there.” He promised, hands gripping you impossibly tighter. “There isn’t a single thing I wouldn’t have done to get you back.”

You just nodded at him, believing every word he was saying, and pulled him closer to kiss you again. The way his lips melded against yours and the way your tongues curled together had you convinced that this was meant to be. It was so utterly perfect that it felt as if the stars had written it centuries ago, always destined to happen.

“Cyar’ika…” He hummed to you when you both broke away again for some air.

As much as you wanted this moment to last forever, a thought suddenly re-entered your mind. “Grogu!”

“It’s okay. We know where he is and we’re on our way to get him back.” He smiled at your concern for the child, understanding it completely. He felt the same after all.

You nodded gently, relieved that the child would be back and safe soon enough. Then things really would be back to how they should be again. The three of you - you, your Mandalorian and your green child. Perfect.

A/N: this has been under works for agessss… hope you enjoyed!

[short-and-ugly]

Canon irken eye colors

All the time I see all these fancy ocs with really bright ass eye colors and a wide variety of them too!!! And it got me thinking...

Do we even actually see all of these colors in the show?

So I'm gonna compile a list of all the eye colors we actually do see in irkens :-)

Starting with four images:

1) Is all of the irken invaders lined up together! Look at all those eyes just ready for conquest. No. no not really ANYWAYS here you can really only see a few colors: Magenta, maroon, fuchsia, and surprisingly, a pale red, a dirty orange-red, dirty yellow, and a lavender from Zee! Honestly the magenta and fuchsia are kind of a stretch because. The show irkens eyes are all really dark and dim compared to the movie. They get super duper saturated there.

2) Redrick and Ourp themselves... self-explanatory. We actually see a shitton more purple irkens than we do red ones!! At least main-character-for-single-episodes irkens. Sizz-Lorr and Tak <3 then there's also the Tallest's advisor, who has muddied green eyes!!!

3) Very light blue/teal!!! I'm not attributing the brightness to shading at all because the skin looks normal-colored. I'm fairly certain this is the ONLY guy with this color of eyes.

4) All the navigators together because they're all beautiful <3 If you look at the green closely you'll notice that it's all actually leaning more towards blue than yellow.

Now, what do we do with this information?

Speculate :3 it's what I do best!!

Bear with me though for these poor edits. I'm on my phone at four AM making this post.

Here's a color wheel where I blotched out all the colors that I don't believe exist for irken eyes :-) We don't see a lot of dark shades of colors so even the dark reds or magentas might be a stretch but we also really don't see any bright yellows or oranges. They're all really muddied and shaded when we do see them! And we also don't see any saturated or dark blues -- opposite to yellows, we only see tinted blues!

This wheel is notably missing cyan but. I'll go out to say that that's probably not an irken eye color either. Or it is, but it's super duper rare for an irken to have that color.

It's also missing the really saturated fuchsias and magentas that we know are there because of the movie irkens... but shh......

Anyways. What did we get out of this ramble?? Idk. That having shit stain brown eyes is more common than having baby blue ones and that Miyuki probably didn't have cyan eyes.

I'm gonna go back to sleep now and contemplate changing my orange-eyed irken to be rust colored :) goodnight

Edit: ITS COME TO MY ATTENTION THAT THERE IS THIS GUY

His eyes are blue! But again, it's a very tinted/washed out blue.

(I'm on a computer now)

So... strong vibrant blues are still likely a no-go. But you could still make a cute little guy with what's available.

[dakotalun]

You Belong With Me | Eddie Munson

pairing: Modern!Eddie Munson X Fem Reader

summary: Part 2--Eddie gets a special visit...but it hurts more than it helps.

warnings: drug use, language, mentions of cheating, sad Eddie

word count: 4.2k

a/n: I've estimated about 7 or so parts to this series and I will be working on them for the next couple of weeks.

*******NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS*******

“Yeah I’m coming!” Eddie says from his room, getting up from his bed and pressing the butt of his blunt into the ashtray on the nightstand. He had been laying in bed, listening to Ozzy, smoking and drinking a beer after he got back from the basketball game a little while ago.

He was pissed at you for yelling at him earlier and bailing on him when it was so out of character for you to do so. But it was nice just sitting under the bleachers alone, oogling the love of his life. Another knock comes as he exits his room, “I said I’m coming-” He swings the front door open and it reveals a sad and red eyed Chrissy.

“Shit Chrissy, are- are you okay?” Eddie steps aside and allows her to enter the trailer.

“Hey Eddie. Sorry to just come over unannounced and all,” Her voice is strained but steady, as if she’s used to speaking after crying.

“No no it’s fine. What’s going on?” He walks over to the couch and sits down, Chrissy following after.

“Jason and I got into a big fight after the game tonight,” Eddie’s ears burn at the thought of Jason being a dick to such a sweet girl then return to normal after thinking about the fight he just had with you, “And I couldn’t be around him anymore so I went for a walk. I thought about things on the way then noticed that I was almost to here and decided to stop by.”

Eddie’s surprised at the words coming from her. She thought of him and decided to stop by, could this be his lucky day?

“Aw I’m sorry that sucks. What can I do to help? Do you need me to go beat him up? Cause I will, I’ll do it right now.” His tone is upbeat and happy but he means every word.

A smile creeps onto Chrissy’s face showing her perfect teeth, “No, no. Nothing like that. I was just wondering if you could, um,” She hesitates, nervous to ask the question.

Eddie puts a reassuring hand on her knee, this being the second time in 2 weeks that they’ve touched. “I’ll do anything, just say the word.” His doe eyes wide and full of truth.

“Can I get some weed or pills or something? I’ve not been in the best headspace lately and I just need something to take the edge off.”

Those were not the words he thought she would say, not in a million years. His face grows warm, nervous about selling to Hawkin’s most famous IT girl. He needs the money but he feels bad for taking it from her, she doesn’t look like she’s taken anything stronger than a baby aspirin in her life, and now she wants weed or pills.

“Are- are you sure? Have you ever smoked before?” She shakes her head, “I know I said anything but I don’t know if I can,”

“Oh,” Her head falls down, clearly disappointed at his words, “That’s okay. It was stupid for me to come here anyway. I’ll get out of your hair, let you get back to whatever you were doing.” She stands up, hands running over her short skirt, both out of nervousness and to cover her ass.

Eddie shoots up quickly not wanting her to leave, “Wait! I mean if you really want some weed then I’ll give you some but on one condition.”

Her baby blue irises meeting his dark brown ones, liek two oceans colliding, “What condition?”

“You gotta smoke it with me. Can’t have you choking to death after taking one puff incorrectly, so? We gotta deal?” He holds his hand out for her to shake, needing another form of touch with her.

“Deal.” Her tiny hand is engulfed in his, the warmth of her skin seeping into his palm.

Eddie tells Chrissy to stay in the living room while he goes and gets a joint and lighter from his room. Returning only a few seconds later he plops down on the couch, exhaling a loud sigh.

“So I’ll start it off for you then I’ll show you how to take a hit correctly,” Chrissy nods at his words.

Eddie puts the blunt into his mouth, cupping his free hand around it to shield the imaginary wind as he lights it, taking a few short puffs just to get it started for her. Once he’s satisfied with his work he pulls it from his lips and hands it to her.

Chrissy looks at it weirdly, not even knowing how to hold it. Eddie notices this and opts to just guide the butt just past her lips, her strawberry lipgloss covering the paper. She looks at him every step of the way, not wanting to do it wrong.

“Alright now all you’re gonna do is breathe in slowly,” She follows his words, taking a slow, deep breathe in, “Good. Good, now,” He pulls his fingers and the blunt away from her lips, “Hold it in for a second until you start to feel that burn in your chest, then exhale.”

She holds for a short second before falling into a coughing fit. Eddie goes to rub her back, soothing the burn he knows all too well from his past. She takes a little to regain her barings again before sitting back up and leaning into the worn out couch.

“Okay that is not as easy as you make it look,” Her voice is hoarse, which Eddie only finds attractive.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, the more you do it the less it hurts,” He takes a long hit, letting the smoke fill his lungs for far too long.

“Okay then, guess I’ll have to try again then,” Eddie just nods and takes another hit before handing it back to her. She follows his steps the same way, only this time she isn’t coughing up a lung.

“Nice job. You’re a natural.” Eddie smiles and the two of them sit there just enjoying the peace and sharing a smoke.

Once it’s down to its last little bit, Eddie puts it out and leans deep into the couch, spreading his legs wide in the process. He lays his arms over the back and looks up at the ceiling. He’s always loved doing this after a good smoke, just sitting there, staring at the ceiling and allowing his mind to wander and eventually go blank.

Chrissy is sitting beside him still, more relaxed than before which brings a smile to Eddie’s lips. The room has been quiet for a while and Chrissy has a question that she’s been meaning to ask.

“So, why do you do it?” SHe says after clearing her throat a little.

“Do what?” He doesn’t look at her, still focused on the ceiling above.

“Why do you act the way you do? Why play that game and listen to that music? You do realize it’s not normal right?” This catches his attention, he brings his head up to look at her, her eyes drifting from his face to her lap where she fiddles with her hands.

“Why are you with Jason when you know he’s sleeping with half the girls at the school?” Eddie’s feeling feisty now, not pleased with the sudden line of questioning.

“I asked you first.” Chrissy retorts back.

“I don’t know what you mean. I act the way I do because that’s who I am, and I play D&D because I find it fun and thrilling. Being normal ’s just not for me, trust me on this one sweetheart.”

“But it could be. If you tried, then you wouldn’t have everyone staring at you and calling you a freak.”

“Yeah but you forget one thing,” Eddie’s sitting up right now, hands on his knees as he gets closer to her. Her eyes are looking at him again, scanning his face quickly, almost worry in her eyes.

“What’s that?” Chrissy’s voice is small and weak, Eddie’s presence now intimidating as he gets right up in her face, a mere inch apart.

“I don’t give a damn what people think.” Chrissy is staring into his eyes now, completely locked in and focused. 

“Your turn, why Jason?” Eddie really is curious as to why she’s with him, and he know’s it can’t only be for the social status, “And don’t say because he’s captain of the laundry basket game.”

“It’s called basketball and I wasn’t going to say that. I like him because he’s sweet and kind and always does the best for others.”

Eddie can’t believe the words she just used to describe him, “Jason? Like Jason Carver, the one who bullies me relentlessly and judges people if they breathe the wrong way? That Jason?”

“Yes Eddie, that Jason.” 

“But how?”

“I know he’s not the best to be around during school but that’s just because his dad is a jackass who won’t get off his back about basketball and his grades. He’s stressed all the time and just needs a break. And when he’s with me he’s thi sweet guy who doesn’t care what others think, just wanting to be the best he possibly can be.”

Eddie looks at her, mouth wide like a fish that’s trying to get air after being pulled from the water. Never in his 20 years of life did he think that he would hear someone say those things about Jason, especially in his trailer! It felt like an out of body experience.

“Can I ask you another question?” Chrissy is looking at him, ignoring the stunned expression.

“Uh sure. But this is the last one.”

“What’s up with you and y/n?” “Nothing, why?” The hair on the back of Eddie’s neck stand up at the mention of you.

“I didn’t se her with you today at the game and I was just curious. I mean you two are always together, even Jason and I don’t spend that much time together. Guess you guys just have a good relationship.”

“Woah woah woah. Y/n and I aren’t in a relationship. She’s just a friend.”

Chrissy gives him a quizzical look, not fully believing him, “Uh huh, so you guys just carpool together and walk to classes together and eat lunch together because you’re friends?”

“Yes. We do,” Eddie sits up straighter now, feeling like he has to assert dominance in this situation.

“Okay then. I was just wondering,” Chrissy is looking directly in his eyes now, analyzing the vast space of his irises.

His eyes are cool and calm, whilst hers are wide and a little curious. Eddie’s gaze dips from hers to her lips then back up again. Her lipgloss is pretty much gone, most of it on the end of the discarded blunt. They are soft and pink, not at all chapped and worn like his.

Eddie’s feeling bold and a little angry right now. Bold from the weed and angry at you for not believing that he could have Chrissy if he wanted to, so his next moves weren’t quite thought out. So before either of them knows it his lips are on hers. Chrissy gasps into the kiss, it quickly being muffled by his mouth. She knows she should pull away, she knows she shouldn’t be kissing anyone other than Jason, especially Eddie “The Freak” Munson, but his lips taste different and the way he holds himself is in high contrast from Jason.

So she leans in a little, giving back to what Eddie is giving her. They kiss for what feels like forever to Eddie but in actuality it was only a few seconds before she pulls away.

“I-” Chrissy tries to speak but the words fall silent on her tongue before she can even get them out.

“Shit, I’ve been wanting to do that for so fucking long. It’s even better than I imagined,” Eddie has his world famous grin on, happy to have finally made a move on his dream girl. He starts to lean back in for another kiss when one of Chrissy’s small hands touch his chest, pushing him back.

“What? What’s wrong?” Eddie’s concerned now.

“It’s, um, it’s Jason. I can’t do this to him.”

“But the guy is a jerk, you can do better than him,” Eddie puts his hand over the one onhis chest, “I can treat you better than he can.”

Her eyes are still downcast, not even daring a quick glace up to his. She slips her hand out from under his, letting it fall into her lap again. “Eddie I’m sorry. Really I am, but I can’t. I love him, and he loves me.”

The words are like acid to Eddie’s ears, his face burning at the sound. His body goes numb as he falls back into the couch. Chrissy is talking but he can’t understand her, being rejected is already too much to bear.

“You should go.” His voice is cold, harsh; he barely recognizes it himself.

“Yeah, um okay.” She gets up, gethers her things then rushes out the door. The sound loudly reverberating off the walls of the tin can Eddie calls a home.

He sits there. For a good 10 minutes he just sits there, thinking. Thinking about how he just kissed his dream girl, about how her lips felt on his, how good her lipgloss tasted on his tongue, how much he wishes it could’ve lasted longer, how he hates himself to doing it in the first place.

Eddie’s been dreaming of that moment since he was in 7th grade. He hoped she would be his first, in everything; first girlfriend, first kiss, first to have sex with him-he hoped for it all. Now he’s left sitting here, rejected and cold and alone.

What makes him feel worse is that he can’t even go talk to the one person he knows would make him feel better because she’s mad at him for something she was ultimately right about. He just wishes he could take this entire day back and start over.

---

All night you had been laying in bed and wracking your brain for all the possible ways to make it up to Eddie. Going through all these years of friendship the two of you share, thinking of all the things Eddie loves; weed, horror movies, milkshakes from Jay’s Diner, and the cookies you make.

You get up from your bed, the bright light of the rising sun peaking through your curtains. You could only sleep for a few hours that night, too afraid that you had ruined your best friendship. Throwing the blankets off yourself you get ready for the day, choosing comfort more than style.

An hour later you are standing in front of Eddie’s trailer, cookies and milkshakes in hand as you carry a bag of all his favorite horror movies you had just gotten from Family Video. You clock that Wayne’s truck is still outside even though he is normally on his way to work by now, but you don’t pay much attention to it as you knock on the door.

You wait for a few seconds and then are faced with the older man with salt and pepper hair.

“Hi Wayne.” You greet with a smile on your face.

“Hey honey, you here for Ed?” He moves aside to let you in.

“Yeah we uh got into a little fight last night and I wanted to check in on him. Brought milkshakes and cookies.” You hold up the items in your hand. Wayne smiles at your gesture, one Eddie would be sure to love as well.

“He’s been real upset today. Hasn’t said a word to me since I got back from work this morning, rarely comin’ outta that room a his.”

You’re confused for a minute at his words. Eddie seemed mad at you sure but to go as far as to lock himself in his room all day, that was dramatic, even gor him. The look on your face must’ve clued Wayne in on the fact that you had no clue what he was talking about.

“If ya don’t mind, may I ask what you fought about?” HE rubs the back of his neck, a thing Eddie does when he too is nervous, “Possibly get an idea as to why he’s like this.”

“Well he wanted to go to the basketball game last night but I wasn’t feeling up for it. I had tried a few times to tell him I didn’t wanna go but he’s a stubborn one,” Wayne nods his head and smiles a little, “I let my anger get to me and accidentally yelled at him, saying things I did and didn’t mean. But I didn’t think he would be that mad about it, not enough to lock himself inside for hours.”

The two of you standing there in silence, contem,plating all the other reasons for Eddie’s behavior today. The older man looks at his watch then sighs, knwoing it’s time to go to work but not wanting to leave his nephew.

“Go ahead. I’ll see if I can get to him, I’ll call you about what happened later.” Wayne gives you a reassuring smile and a squeeze on the arm before heading out the door and to his late night job.

You take a deep breath in and out, calming your nerves. You set the milkshakes into the freezer, not wanting them to melt as the two of you talked before heading down the short hallway to the metalhead’s room.

It’s rare to see Eddie’s door closed, always an open book in his own house. You knock on his door 3 times, a special order to them, signaling that it was you who was outside of it. Eddie was the one who suggested the two of you got a secret knock, being that both of your parental figures tended to just walk in unannounced and without warning.

The knock was short and sweet, something easy to remember. Eddie was the one who used it most, knocking on your window late at night to steal you away for a night drive or a smoke sesh. 

There is no response from Eddie, so you try the knock again, hoping he just didn’t hear you the thifrst time. Nothing, no response.

“Ed? You okay in there? Wayne said you haven’t left there all day.” You try and keep your voice neutral, not showing the hurt from deep inside that this might be your fault, “Look if this is about out fight last night I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I wasn’t in the right head space and I really shouldn’t’ve talked to you that way.” Still nothing, not even the shifting of sheets could be heard.

“I brought some movies and cookies. Oh and that milkshake you love so much from Jay’s.” You start to get worried now, Eddie has never been this quiet in his life, “Eddie please talk to me. I really didn’t mean to say those things about you and I take back every word. If you really, truly love Chrissy then I will support you. I just don’t want you to get hurt is all, I love you and hate seeing you like this.”

At the mention of Chrissy, Eddie’s heart constricted thinking about what happened last night. And for the first time all day, he speaks.

“It’s not your fault,” The words are soft, the sound in his voice coming out strained.

“Are you sure? I know I was harsh and I take full responsibility for your emotions and my actions. Can I come in? I kinda feel like I need to say this to your face.” You pause a moment, waiting for something, anything. Then you hear the small *click* of his door being unlocked. You open it and gasp at the sight in front of you.

Eddie is laying on his bed, blankets wrapped tightly around him as tissues surround and litter the the places around him. He was crying.

“Shit.” You say under your breath. There is soft music playing in the back ground, you recognize the song to be K. by Cigarettes After Sex. You know the song is on his sad playlist, one he rarely listened to that you knew of. So for him to be listening to it right now is startling.

“Eds?” You walk into the rom fully now, setting the cookies and movies down on the floor by the door. You take a few steps towards his bed, his back is turned to you.

“Eddie, what’s wrong?” You’re now at the edge of his bed, wanting more than anything for him to turn around and look at you. He just lays there, his breathing moving his chest up and down slowly.

“I fucked up.”

“Huh?” You weren’t even sure he said anything that’s how quietly he said it.

“I fucked up, badly.” He turns around now, showing you the aftermath of his endless crying all night. His eyes are puffy and red, tear lines stain his face as a little bit of snot if still lingering on his nose.

You’ve never, ever seen Eddie cry out of sadness before, happiness, excitement, pleasure, sure but not sadness and it worried you to your core to know who or what did this to him. You take a seat on his bed, placing a hand on his thigh, the layers of blankets stopping any sort of heat of his to tough yours.

“What happened? Why do you think you fucked up?”

“Chrissy came by last night…” That’s when your ears perked up, so this was her fault huh? “She wanted drugs but I wasn’t sure she should do them alone since I figured she’s never done them before. Being miss popular “good girl” and all.”

Eddie sits up now, clearing his throat as you just sit there, leting him talk. “I offered to sit with her and teacher her how to smoke properly as to not hurt herself, you know?” You only nod, “Well we were sitting there a few minutes just passing it back and forth, talking occasionally until she asked me a question.”

“Which was?”

“Why do you act the way you do? It seemed harmless at the time, just something that one would ask the town freak,” Your heart pangs at the name he calls himself, “I retorted with a question of my own, following in her line of questioning. Everything was good, then she looked at me. Like really looked at me and I couldn’t hold back anymore, after what you said and the way she just seemed so damn pretty even after coming here with tears staining her face. I kissed her.”

Your eyes went wide. He kissed her. Eddie kissed Chrissy. Eddie Munson and Chrissy Cunningham kissed. The “town freak” and the “cheery good girl” of Hawkins kissed. No matter what way you put it nothing changed. The boy you love, are in love with kissed someone else, someone who had a boyfriend who despised Eddie.

You’re silent, not even breathing as Eddie stares at you, “We only kissed for a few seconds but it was great, her lips were soft and sweet. I wanted to stay like that forever, I could’ve if she didn’t pull away. She told me it was wrong and she couldn’t do it, Jason being the one she loved, even though I know for a fact that he’s fucking other girls around the school.”

The words and thoughts of Eddie kissing Chrissy still heaven’t left your brain, you needed to get them out. “So that’s why you’ve been in here all day. Cause Chrissy rejected you? Not our fight?” You needed a clear answer.

“Yeah. I mean part of it was because we fought, but only a small part, most being because of the kiss.” His eyes are on his lap, where he messes with the chunky rings adorning them. You place your hand over his, stopping th nervous tick.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay. You’ll find someone else who doesn’t have a dickwad for a boyfriend and who loves you just as much as you do them and you’ll be happy. I promise,” Clearly you were talking about yourself but he didn’t need to know that. He gives you a smile and pulls you in for a hug, squeezing tightly.

“Thanks sweetheart. You always know what to say to cheer me up.”

“I’ll always be there for you Ed, you know that.” The two of you break apart, you missing the warmth of his body against yours all too much.

“Did I hear something about horror movies and milkshakes?” You laugh at his change in conversation.

“Yes you did. I went to Jay’s earlier to get your favorite, which I still don’t get ow you can drink a birthday cake milkshake but I still bought it.” You stand from his bed, extending your hand out to im, “Let’s get you out of here, watch some movies and eat a shit ton of unhealthy foods.”

Eddie takes your hand without even taking a second thought, letting you lull him to his couch in the other room. The two of you sit there for the rest of the night, watching movies, eating cookies and drinking milkshakes. Everything was back to normal, almost.

Your heart still beat for Eddie but you knew now that you couldn’t do anything to pursue it, knowing it would only confuse and hurt him more. So for now you would stay an arm's length away, letting him pull you in whatever direction he wanted, a smile plastered to your face the entire way.

Eddie Taglist: @ali-r3n @dixontardis @witchwolflea @micheledawn1975 @daydreaming-mood @idfwfeelings @adaydreamaway08 @preciousbumplingbee @rustboxstarr @plk-18 @teary-eyed-egg @needylilgal022 @exploding-bonbon @gagasbee @eddiemunsonsguitarpicc @aol19 @thatwitchyoucouldntburn-blog

You Belong With Me Taglist: @emma77645 @ch4rlie-blogs @lucyteennope @sidthedollface2 @f-me-reid @elvendria @amira0303 @comic-harley @futuristicbirdtraveler @eddiemunson95 @gemnetjournal @sakaur-i @bakugouswh0r3 @sunshineandwitchery @theonceandfuturewinchester @bibieddiesgf @harmfulb1tch @marsflys @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme @daydreaming-mood @rach5ive @tlclick73 @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @plk-18 @dreamerjj @ceda1063 @eddiemunsonsguitarpic @suzy2872628 @idfwfeelings @fanfangying1304 @buckybarnescouldchokeme @4bigail @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @siouxiesiouxtryhard @urinternetmom @fuckmylifedudee @aol19

[hotvintagepoll]

Joe Roberts (The Goat, Three Ages, Our Hospitality)—6’3” with a handlebar mustache that would impress the mightiest walrus, joe brown shows up in several buster keaton shorts, usually as the Big scrungle to match buster’s Little scrungle. 12:32-16:19 has some scrungle reaction shots and some good chase scene'ing [link], which feels important for weird guys to do for their enrichment.

Harpo Marx (Night at the Opera, Night in Casablanca, Duck Soup)—While Groucho is better-known, Harpo's physical comedy is SECOND-TO-NONE. The man is a strange mime trapped in the paradigm of early 20th century movies. Every move is a symphony and simultaneously a colony of rats in a human skin suit. LISTEN. You MUST see this man in motion. Every still photo of him looks like a combination of a sad clown and a different, sadder clown, but it's only because he put so much joy in every motion.

This is round 1 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you're confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Harpo Marx:

Harpo is mute in all of the Marx Bros movies and so his body language and facial expressions are SO over the top but he's also got fewer braincells than a goldfish while often being the emotional heart of the Marx Bros and he's just A Guy!!

Every scene with Harpo Marx is a treat! Just like watching a seagull steal a stranger's hotdog at the beach, it is a joy to watch him frustrate the hell out of all the other films' characters! Harpo Marx is the zenith of unhinged in all of his appearances, making any other funny man a straight man by comparison. (A fantastic feat considering he starred in films with his brothers Grouch and Harpo, who sported a shoe polish mustache and questionable Italian accent, respectively). The scrungliness of the little guys he plays come from his guileless, wide-eyed expression, curly blond wig, and the extreme ability to annoy others, despite never saying a word. Is he malicious? Most definitely, but hard to tell because he has a dopey grin on his face most of the time. Communicating through other sounds like honking horns and whistling, he is a force of chaos in every Marx brothers film! Also an accomplished harp player, the beautiful calm moments where Harpo plays juxtapose the zany, making him all the more scrungly. His visual style of comedy is timeless; Duck Soup had me rolling with laughter as a six year old and is still just as funny today. ///

In my opinion Harpo is the funniest of the Marx brothers because he is so good at slapstick comedy. Since he never speaks in his film appearances his performances are very physical, which contributes a lot to his scrungliness. He was fully committed to being wacky at all times. All of his hilarity is based on him being weird.

He's like if a clown was a hobo was also somehow a classically trained harpist, his face is always in some kind of contorted silly shape, feral curly haired ninnymuggins always doing weird things to people  

He's just a weird little guy who causes chaos everywhere he goes, and then sits down and plays a beautiful harp solo! He steals the show from his very chatty brothers without saying a word, and was surprisingly ripped under that old raincoat

All of the Marx Brothers are Scrungly to a degree, but Harpo is the scrungliest! His outfits are so big he gets lost in them, his pockets are full of everything, and because he never speaks, he always uses physical comedy. Also he's an incredible musician.

Joe Roberts:

[mishellii]

watching twilight with bf yuuji<3

pairing: gn!reader x yuuji itadori

A/N: something short and self indulgent i wrote after reading ch251 (i miss being happy) hope u enjoy xx

,,say it. out loud."

your boyfriend recited the words he'd heard just seconds earlier, pink hair brushing against your cheek as his head rested on your shoulder.

you could hardly focus on the 2009 hit movie that played on the small tv in yuuji's dorm room, with him making fun of every scene in extreme.

,,you're a vampire." he pitched his voice to mock the protagonist, left leg dangling off his twin sized mattress.

,,are you afraid?"

teeth playfully digging into your skin suddenly, you pushed your palms against his stomach with a giggle.

,,yuuji, i'm trying to watch this!"

the brown eyed boy just chuckled at that, letting his face rest in the crook of your neck, side-eyeing the main character with a frown on his lips.

his left hand was resting on your tummy, fingers absentmindedly fidgeting with the hem of your, truthfully his, t-shirt.

usually, yuuji was a patient guy, listening to you for hours explaining the plot of a book you just finished or explaining the math question for the 5th time with a smile on his pretty face, but he couldn't sit still to save his life.

so, watching movies with him was entertaining, to say the least.

'i wanted to kill you.' the vampire's voice purred from the screen, which made yuuji scoff.

,,romantic." he added, causing the grin on your face to grow even bigger.

the insane amount that you adored your boyfriend should be studied. it was unbearable, some times, having so much love for him you didn't know where to put it or how to show it.

,,is she deranged?" he exclaimed suddenly, addressing the way bella expressed her trust to the bloodsucker despite his previous statement.

-,,she's in love."

,,she is stupid."

letting his words run circles in your mind, you hit your knuckles against his thigh for a quick slap, making the boy wince in his exaggerating ways you were all too familiar with.

,,sometimes that's the same thing." you spoke, noticing his face twist to look up at you from the corner of your eyes, but you didn't give him the satisfaction of meeting his gaze.

you were trying to pay attention to the movie, after all.

,,hm," he mumbled, scooting even closer to you, throwing his legs over your own.

laying in your lap like a puppy, your hand ran through his hair at an angle that made your muscles cramp up but you didn't mind. you were stupid in love, after all.

"that's true."

X X X X X X X

small bonus:

,,if that's what being in love means, i don't mind being stupid." yuuji added, lips pressing against your neck.

-,,only applies if you weren't before already."

,,mean!?"

thx for reading, i hope u enjoyed !!<3

divider by @enchanthings !

[spacelatinoluvr]

THE WOLF & THE DRAGON (1/?) - aemond targaryen

series masterlist, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6

summary: To dance with dragons is to play with wolves. After surviving her own assassination attempt, Alarra Stark endured a large scar across her face, slicing her face in half. For years after Alarra was now known as "Alarra The Fierce" due to her ferocity at the young age, defending herself valiantly at merely thirteen-years-old. After then, she spent years training with her older brother, Cregan Stark, so that one day she could avoid the pain and suffering of anyone in her family; including herself. But, after those years spent training with men much larger than her, she is sent away and betrothed to Joffrey Velaryon for alliance towards the rightful heir to the Iron Throne: Rhaenyra Targaryen. Accompanying the family to Kingslanding, Alarra realized maybe marrying the young Velaryon boy wasn't so awful. But that was until she met a peculiar "one-eyed" prince. pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Stark!OC word count: 5.3k tags: slow burn, forbidden love, canon Aemond, enemies to lovers, long fic, original characters, war, arranged marriage warnings: blood and gore, extreme violence rating: 18+, !MDNI!

LITTLE FLAME

Alarra Stark was truly the most elegant in all of the North.

As a girl, Alarra was known for her beauty. Even amongst the seven kingdoms, her beauty was spoken of in hushed whispers amongst all that witnessed her: as if she were a myth or story to be proven false. Those who encountered her never second guessed her alluring blue eyes, like staring into the deep blue of The Narrow Sea. Her long red hair, always braided away from her face, displaying her breathtaking features. Freckles adorned her youthful face, like a painter had splattered brown specs across her face. Even though Alarra’s beauty was now a fact, not a myth among the inhabitants of Westeros, the people of the North had always remained in awe at the princess’s beauty. And through the years, her hair was the thing they remembered the most. Her long, thick red curly hair, that always blew in the wind as if the God’s were doing it with purpose. And when winter came, Alarra’s beauty flourished.

In all her years, the Seven had only blessed her with one winter. It lasted two years of Alarra’s youth, and she always remembered the feeling of her nose turning into a frozen nub, her cheeks pink and rosy as the air grew colder and bit at her skin. She remembered her and her brother playing in the harsh winter cold, throwing snow and laughing as their father yelled at them to get inside before they caught a cold. She remembered the good.

Winter is coming, she remembered her father spewing as he drank the sweetest wine of the Arbor.

Winter is coming, she remembered Cregan saying as he groomed the horses with her.

Winter is coming, she would repeat, as she held her head high and proud. Like a true Stark.

When winter did come, and the days got longer, it was brutal. But, Alarra found it tranquil; she found the beauty in the most unearthly things.

And that would ensue to be her downfall.

“Give it back!” Eight-year-old Alarra screamed as her older brother, Cregan, stole her knife made of wood hanging it teasingly above her head.

“Do you even know how to hold one of these properly?” Cregan tilted his head to the side, the question hanging in the air.

Silence.

And that was all Cregan needed before he smirked and waved the knife around once more. Alarra resumed her jumping, unable to grab the knife from her brother. Cregan had freshly turned one and three, and was now much much taller than Alarra. He seemed to like flaunting it.

“Cregan!” Alarra yelled, stopping her continuous jumping. Cregan paused his waving to let out a laugh.

“Here, let me show you…” Cregan motioned for Alarra to get closer and she did, a sour expression still on her face. Cregan paused, crouching down on her level.

“Now this here is the blade… see?” Cregan traced the pointy part of the wooden knife. Alarra’s expression then changed from glum to one of immense interest.

“And this… is the handle, you put your hand here- and don't hold it like you're holding a firefly-” Cregan then held Alarra’s hands guiding her to how to properly hold a real dagger. Alarra held the wooden dagger, stealing it from Cregan’s hands with a triumphant hum.

“And now my prince I must defend myself…” Alarra said, holding her head high, the dagger above her head. She slowly let the dagger fall, reaching the heart of Cregan Stark, twisting and making squelching noises as she went. Cregan groaned, falling to the ground, a tongue out of his mouth for great measure. Alarra giggled lightly, still clutching the dagger in her hand. But, as Alarra looked at Cregan, he had stopped moving, his eyes closed in bliss as he laid on the ground.

“Cregan?” Alarra got down on his level, sitting by his head, worry etched on her features. Cregan was always there for Alarra and she couldn't remember a time when they were not together. Being apart from him was like stealing the moon from the sun. She could not bear it. But, then all of a sudden, Cregan let out a roar, making Alarra squawk and jump backwards.

“Cregan! That’s not funny. I truly thought I had pierced your heart!” Cregan laughed loudly at this. How could his kind little sister hurt him?

“Oh.. with that?” Cregan questioned, still laughing. Alarra reached towards him, hitting him on the arm, making him let out a loud noise in protest.

“I'm telling father!” Alarra exclaimed, standing quickly and running out of the room. The large doors closed behind her as she ran out, through the garden outside and up the large stairs towards her fathers chambers. But, when she arrived, guards and servants were frantically running around, in and out of his chambers. A guard ran past Alarra almost running her over and she gasped, clutching her chest. A hand was then placed on her shoulder, making her turn around quickly.

“My lady…” Alarra’s handmaiden, Eyla, was staring at her with concern.

“You should not be here- where is your brother?” Alarra glanced behind the handmaiden to see Cregan, face grim and hard, approaching her.

“Cregan, what's going on?” Cregan ignored her, continuing his path towards their father’s chambers. Alarra followed closely behind, ignoring the protests of her handmaiden.

Two guards were posted outside of the chambers, frantically scanning Cregan, proud and tall and Alarra’s frame, meek and small. Cregan had said something to the guard but Alarra was not listening because only the worst scenarios had started to display in her mind. Then suddenly, Cregan barged past the two guards, opening the chamber doors with immense force. Alarra followed shortly behind him, her hands clutched tightly in front of her.

Cregan seemed to have a mind of his own, walking towards the large bed across the room. The maester stood by the bed, seeming to be speaking to their father. At the sight of that, Cregan’s shoulders visibly lowered tension leaving his back.

The room smelled old; like dusty books or an old library. Alarra paused her movements when she got to the edge of the bed, and Cregan walked towards the maester.

“What's happened, Maester?” Cregan asked, standing next to him. The maester’s expression dropped, turning to face Cregan.

“Please sit, my lord.” Cregan paused, looking behind his shoulder at Alarra.

“Leave us.”

“But, my lord-”

“I said: leave us.” Cregan bellowed, staring at his father lying on the bed, unmoving.

The maester bowed silently, shuffling out of the room, his quiet footsteps echoing around them.

A cough, sounding like the last gasp of a ghoul, carried through the room and Cregan instantly moved to sit beside their father. Alarra stayed at the edge of the bed, now able to see her fathers deathly pale face. Her father was an alabaster statue, as if he was frozen in time and breath. Another cough rang, and Alarra could visibly see the strain it left on her father.

“My boy…” He whispered, turning to Cregan.

“Father what-”

“No, Cregan you mustn't speak. Listen to me.”

Cregan stopped, like he was holding his breath waiting for father to speak.

“You are my heir. The Lord of Winterfell in a moon’s set-”

“Father-” Cregan protested, his voice cracking.

“Let me finish, please,” Their father started, breathing heavily. Cregan swallowed down his words, nodding.

“You are my boy. My heir, my only boy,” He paused to take a breath.

“You will be the Lord of Winterfell. You will be the King of the North, do you hear me?” Father said, more sternly this time. Cregan had become quiet and still before he spoke again.

“Yes, Father. I-”

“Protect her. Always. I will be right beside you.”

“Always.”

“You will see me again. Whether it’s in the wind whistling the trees before bed or under the dirt, you will see me again, my son.” Their father grasped Cregan’s hand, tightly holding it as best as he could in his weak grip.

“Alarra,” Cregan whispered, turning his head to meet her eyes.

Alarra was standing quietly at the edge of the bed still, her eyes red and she was gasping quietly as she cried. Her father put his hand out, calling her to him. Alarra ran to her father’s side of the bed, getting on her knees beside Cregan.

“Father…” She weeped, eyes wet and cheeks red.

“My firecracker…” Her father said, reaching a hand to her face, using his thumb to wipe a tear away. His hand shook as he rose it, using all of his remaining power. Alarra sniffled her nose running now as she let her tears flow. Cregan put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly.

“Alarra Stark, you will always be a firecracker. Don’t you ever let anyone stop you. No boy, no prince, no scary spider wanting to bite you!” Her father smiled, as Alarra laughed through her sob. Her father started to cough again, this time into a white rag. The cough was more violent, and the lord’s eyes were red and bloodshot. But, it was not from crying.

“When you were still a babe, your mother would say you had not cried once when you came into this world. Into our arms. A babe, silent as the night sky but the stars could not compare to your beauty, my love.” Alarra smiled as best as she could manage through the tears.

“My flourishing flower,” He whispered, grasping her cheek. “You are a true vision of your mother.”

“But, promise me one thing,” He started to say, coughing as he spoke. Alarra’s eyes were glued to her father, as he smiled with love for his children.

“Promise me that you will be true.” He spoke in a hushed tone, eyes glossed over with endearment.

“I promise.” She said, her head held high, lip quivering. I promise that I will always remain a true Stark. And no one, not a boy, a man, or a creature will stop me.

Rickon Stark smiled, glancing at both of his children, a Stark’s visionary.

“You must shine bright my little flame…no matter how small you feel, always shine bright.”

And that is exactly what Alarra did.

On Alarra’s one and three name day, she had begun her path to womanhood. And that path to womanhood had skewed into a path of knighthood.

Alarra had awoken early that morning, before the birds were chirping and the sun began to stream into her room. She was ecstatic. Today she was to be a woman.

“Eyla?” Alarra was standing in front of the mirror, adjusting her dress. She was wearing something new, something that she wasn’t used to. She didn’t realize how much her…chest had seemed to grow overnight. Or at least it felt like that to her.

“Yes, my lady?” Eyla was bent down on the ground, fanning Alarra’s dark blue dress around her.

“How do you know you're truly a woman?” She asked meekly, as Eyla stood wiping her hands on her legs.

“Well that’s up to you, my lady. You choose what makes you feel like a woman.” Eyla stated.

“How did you know?” Alarra questioned, playing with her fingers. Eyla smiled, still looking at the ground.

“When I was ten, I bled in the night. And my mother threw me out, telling me I was a woman and I could fend for myself. But, I didn't feel like a woman. I was still a child. It wasn't until I was one and five that I knew that women have power. More than a man ever will.”

“I haven't bled yet and-”

“My lady, enjoy it. Bleeding is not a celebration.” Eyla wrapped an arm around Alarra, stroking her arm.

“Then why do people rejoice at the sight of it?”

“Because men’s heads are hollow, my lady.” Eyla clasped her hands together.

“Now, let me see your dress! How beautiful you look.” Eyla looked Alarra up and down, scanning her. Alarra’s cheeks turned red and she laughed, rolling her eyes.

“Thank you, Eyla.” Alarra whispered, smiling at the ground, putting her hands on her cheeks. Bashful as a rabbit.

“Since you are one and three, let me teach you a lesson.” Alarra groaned, dropping her hands from her face.

“A lesson. It’s my name day!”

“It’s fun, trust me my lady.” Eyla smirked at Alarra, and turned her so she was facing the mirror again, Eyla behind her.

“Women have something men don’t…” Elya started, stopping behind Alarra, looking at her through the mirror.

“We can speak with our very eyes.” She whispered, clutching Alarra between her hands, grasping at her shoulders.

“How so?” Alarra questioned, eyebrows furrowed into a line.

“Men cannot help but express their emotions,” Eyla said, her eyebrows furrowed in thought. “It is in their blood.”

Alarra’s eyes watched her handmaiden through the mirror, waiting for her to speak again. Eyla stepped next to Alarra, still looking at her through the mirror.

“Watch my eyes…” Alarra nodded quickly. Eyla’s eyes were wide and doe-like at first; like large brown deer pupils. But, just as fast her eyes darkened, a seductive look on her face. Eyla then returned her gaze back to a more tame and blissful look. Eyla smiled at Alarra through the mirror, moving to stand behind her again, before speaking.

“As women we must use our… assets to our advantage.” Eyla pushed her hand between Alarra’s shoulder blades, and Alarra subconsciously bound her chest out.

“Assets?” Alarra blurted out, uncertainty in her voice.

“Our bosoms of course!” Eyla then chuckled at Alarra’s red face.

“You know what a breast is-”

“Yes, I know,” Alarra huffed, slightly annoyed. “I'm not a child anymore. I am one and three!”

“And what a special age that is, my lady.” Eyla grinned at Alarra through the mirror again, putting both her hands on her shoulders and squeezing.

“I trust the Gods will treat you well this year.” But, Eyla had been wrong. And the Gods’ had punished her that year.

Throughout the day, Alarra had been rained with compliments on her new attire. How grown she looked in blue. How her eyes popped, the blue more prominent, in this dress. Her brother had gotten her a gift, and sat with her in the garden, as the sun was starting to set.

Cregan pulled the gift from behind his back. It was long and pointy and covered in a white cloth.

“Open it.” He said handing it to her. Alarra slowly slid the cloth off to reveal a long slender dagger. Alarra gasped, feeling its hilt and tracing her fingers along the dull side of the blade.

“This is Valyrian steel- how did you-”

“The Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch gave it to me… I feel better acquainted with a sword than a tiny knife.” Cregan’s eyes had creased as he flashes Alarra a thin-lipped smile. He seemed nervous and he was visibly fidgeting with his hands; something Alarra regularly did when she was uncertain.

Then, Alarra jumped pulling Cregan into a tight hug. Cregan let out a groan at the harshness (his shoulders were sore from training maliciously), but wrapped his arms around her small frame regardless .

“Thank you.” She whispered, as he tightened his grip on his little sister, his arms almost engulfing her whole.

“I'll teach you how to use it properly, now that this one isn't wooden.” He said teasingly, as she pulled away from him her hands still on his shoulders.

“I promise not to pierce your heart.” She giggled after her statement, taking her hands away from Cregan’s broad frame.

“Now that is true Valyrian steel. Keep it wrapped in the cloth until tomorrow. I don’t want you to cut yourself.”

That night, while Alarra lay in bed, still awake deep into the Castle’s slumber, she laid next to her new friend: the dagger of Valyrian steel. The dagger was sitting next to her, on the thin white bed sheets and Alarra couldn't help but admire its craftsmanship-

Wind blew through the window, the white curtains waving in the soft breeze, and she held her breath. But Alarra had not left the window open. In fact, she specifically remembered closing them. Alarra briskly sat up, looking around the room, scanning for something out of place.

“You're supposed to be asleep.” A low, deep voice rang through her quiet room and Alarra jumped, opening her lips to scream. But, a hand wrapped around her mouth, shoveling her cries down her throat. She wept and wept, kicking and waving her hands above her head as a man, whose face she couldn't see masked by a black cloth, put a knife to her throat. She squirmed, but stopped when the cool metal of the dagger was at her throat.

“Stop. Moving.” He gritted out. Alarra could feel the shake of his hand, a sign he was either nervous or very close to slitting her throat. Alarra screamed loudly in his sweaty palm, as she slashed with her fingers at his face. Her fingers caught his skin, and he let out a groan, covering his left eye.

“You bitch-” He grumbled moving towards her again, but she put her arms out in front of her, speaking for the first time.

“You have about five seconds to kill me before the guards find you… 5, 4-” The man yelled as he slashed at her but she moved slightly, so he'd miss his dagger going into her feather pillow. Alarra rolled off the bed, grabbing her own dagger as she did, staring at the man across from her. Then, her vision got blurry and- red? Alarra groaned as she lifted her hand to her face, red blood covered her sight and hand, smelling the metallic. She laughed, looking up at the man that was now staring at her. His dagger tightly clutched in his hand.

“You nicked me…” Alarra huffed in disbelief, staring at the blood on her hand. Suddenly, the man launched forward across the bed, yelling as he crawled across the bed reaching her. Alarra gasped, dropping the dagger as he pushed her against the wall, choking her throat with his hand. Alarra coughed, hitting his hand, over and over again but he didn't budge. He was strong, stronger than a thirteen-year-old girl, but not skilled. He was messy, and seemed to be running on his anger and not his strategy. Alarra had noticed how he was still shaking, and he breathed heavily squeezing tightly on her throat. Now, Alarra could no longer breathe and she let out short gasps of air.

The man had made a mistake. He was facing her, his lower area facing her in the perfect position- and she kicked, hard, at his prized jewels. He released her, falling to his knees in agony, groaning and moaning. Alarra fell to the ground, coughing violently. She held her chest, looking around for the dagger- her dagger. The dagger was still on the ground and she grabbed it quickly.

“Cunt!” He screamed, and he opened his mouth again to yell but before he could, a dagger positioned itself between his eyes, and blood curdled slowly, covering both his eyes like tears. He was crying blood. She pulled the dagger out, letting a sob fall out from her pink lips. Alarra screamed as she let the dagger hit his skull again, cracking through skin and bone. And she slashed down again and again and again until his body was limp against the bed frame. Alarra straddled his unmoving waist, letting her dagger fall on his face again until his eyes were red holes and his face was spotted in cuts. And now, it wasn't only her own blood that covered her but one of the armed man.

I will always remain a true Stark. And no one, not a boy, a man, or a creature will stop me.

And she kept hitting until hands reached around hers, and she screamed, fighting the person behind her. Her brother had to pull her off of the man, his face now mutilated and unrecognizable.

“It’s me, Alarra.” Her brother whispered, and she dropped to her knees on the ground as he swept her into a hug. Alarra let out a cry of relief as she smelled the musk of her older brother. And she was safe. Cregan held her that night, until morning came, as she cried and the guards took away the disfigured body of the unknown man.

The next day, Alarra bathed until her fingers turned to prunes and the water was ice cold. Her handmaid told her that the water would leave her with a runny nose but she never felt clean. She scrubbed herself until she was raw, like a newborn babe. But she still saw the blood; the way his face felt soft and slick after stabbing it so many times, the way she felt him die beneath her, the way she had almost died, the way she had beat the clutches of death. She escaped the hands of the Seven.

Alarra demanded that her brother teach her how to protect herself, for there would be a time when he would not be there to keep her safe. Alarra was already learning hand-by-hand combat and archery, but decided to focus solely on her swordsmanship. Soon enough, Alarra was a growing prodigy. Courtesy of her older brother of course, but a prodigy nonetheless. Death from the Mother above taught Alarra how to preserve, how to push herself. After beating death, Alarra became a beautiful yet valiant knight with no title to claim.

The first time Alarra looked at her face she wept. She wept for hours. Her face was ruined. A princess with a scar. And it wasn't minuscule. It wasn't a small scar, it was a ginormous line running from the top of her forehead, to the bottom of her chin. Instead of whispers of her heavenly beauty or her hair, they were now filled with whispers of the girl that defeated death. Whispers of the princess with a slash. Whispers of a killer: a savage. Whispers now contained a new nickname, one Alarra was proud to coin.

They called her, Alarra the Fierce.

“Alarra you must not attack your opponent with your sword- lead with your legs- yes just like that!”

Alarra was now freshly one and five, and through two years her swordsmanship had increased and her level of fighting was, as Cregan liked to put it, incredible. The sound of their swords clashing against the other echoed through the training room, and the castle’s staff walked in and out and about the halls but not before glancing at the pair. Both were breathing heavily before Cregan laughed, losing his balance a little at Alarra’s push. Alarra let her guard down before she eventually fell backwards, the tip of Cregan’s sword at her neck.

“You lost focus. And when your life's on the line, will you lose focus then?” Alarra scoffed from the ground as Cregan held his hand out to her. She took it, begrudgingly, and stood next to him. Alarra bit her lip, taking her gloves off before throwing them harshly on the ground.

“I thought you were going to fall-”

“Excuses.” Alarra let out a loud sigh, shaking her head. Both of the siblings removed their armor, before exiting the training hall. One thing about Alarra was that she was stubborn. Whenever she messed up she vowed to never make the same mistake twice. They walked in silence, comfortable silence, until two servants passed them, whispering to each other, their heads low. Alarra caught the last bits of their conversation and realized they were talking about her.

“They whisper as I pass them, brother.”

“Let them. It means they are fearful. And fear will only take you far in this world.” Cregan’s strides were wide but Alarra was able to keep up with him, walking next to his now manly body.

“And what if I don't want people to fear me?”

“Would you rather them love you? Admire you?”

“Yes! I very much would.” Cregan stopped walking, and turned his head to look at Alarra. Her hair was loosely tied into a braid that had been falling out due to their training.

“I want people to love me like they did father. I want them to admire me not… “ Cregan stared at her as she looked beyond him at another passing servant, who hurriedly walked past them. “The first thing they see is this.” Alarra pointed at her scar.

“The first thing they see is your face.” Cregan smirked, crossing his arms.

“No I mean- I only mean that they think I'm some savage.”

“You are Alarra the Fierce, are you not?”

“Yes, but-”

“That name was given to you. You earned it. Don’t let the opinions of others dictate how you carry that name. Embrace it. You are Alarra the Fierce. You are The Princess that Lived. People respect you because of that, and fear is just the outcome of deep honor,” Cregan paused to gather his thoughts.

“Respect is something to be earned, and you earned it the day you were born. You have always been Alarra the Fierce…it was just a matter of when you would realize it.” Cregan then pulled Alarra into a deep hug, smelling like sweat and dirt. Alarra scrunched her nose, as Cregan pushed away from her.

“And Alarra the Fierce smells like she needs a bath.”

The raven had arrived in the morning, calling upon Cregan Stark to visit Dragonstone. The letter had no details that Alarra knew of, and she had remained curious until the day of his departure.

“Can I please come? I hear Jacaerys Velaryon is one of the most handsome in the realm.” Alarra started biting her lip, knowing she'd get a rise out of her older brother. Cregan stopped walking to turn to her, a piece of hair over his right eye.

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

Alarra sighed, kicking at the grass on the ground.

“And why not?” She asked quietly, still walking closely behind him.

“Because I said so, Alarra.” Cregan said sternly this time and Alarra huffed, rolling her blue eyes that contrasted from her brothers hazel ones. “You are not coming to Dragonstone with me. Have I made myself clear?”

“I am not a child.”

“Yet you act like one, no?”

Alarra bit her cheek, staring at the ground. She was now one and six, slightly annoyed that her older brother always teased her of her age.

“I have never left the North-.”

“Alarra you know why-”

“Yes, yes you vowed to protect me. But, you know damn well I can protect myself.” Alarra spat, walking towards Cregan.

“If I have the ability to protect you, I would do it over again if it means you are safe. I do not care how angry you are at me, as long as you are breathing.” Cregan stepped towards her, as much as he was annoyed, and left a kiss on the top of her head whilst pulling her into a half-hug.

“Cregan-” Cregan stepped away from her and started walking backwards.

“I will see you in two moons. Ser Wildrow will be with you when I am not.”

“Cregan-!”

And Cregan turned, stomping towards a carriage and disappearing beyond the wall.

Prick.

Two moons had come and gone, and all Alarra had done was train with Ser Wildrow. As much as Ser Wildrow didn't want to admit- he knew Alarra was just as skilled as her older brother. But, there was something different. Something in her eyes that shined. Everytime she had the upper hand her eyes gleamed, a frightening look overtaking her soft feminine features.

“I yield!” Ser Wildrow shouted, breathing heavily as his knees buckled under Alarra’s push.

“Your age is showing, Ser.” Alarra smirked as she started to take off her armor. Though Ser Wildrow wasn’t very old, not much older than her father would've been, she still enjoyed teasing the man.

Ser Wildrow was still on the ground, gradually standing.

“And you just seem to be getting better by the moon, Alarra the Fierce.” Alarra flinched at the nickname. Her alias had come from a night she wanted to forget. She lightly traced the scar with her hand, turning to face Ser Wildrow again.

“Will you bring me to the Wall?”

“Absolutely not, my lady.”

“But, I am Alarra the Fierce. And Alarra the Fierce should be able to visit the wall if she pleases.” Alarra declared, her nose pointed upwards.

Ser Wildrow stared at her for a moment, before he sighed.

“It’s as if you wish for my head on a stick, my lady.”

Ser Wildrow and Alarra were now thousands of feet in the air staring down at the deep, deep snowy landscape beneath her. Her breath fanned around her and she shivered at the cold, having not felt it since she was a child.

“Tis cold.” She murmured, shoving her hands beneath her fur coat.

Ser Wildrow laughed.

“I warned you, did I not my lady?” He smiled at her, burrowing further into his own fur coat.

“Mhm…” She grumbled, whispering profanities under her breath.

“Cregan will have your head if he finds out.”

“You worry too much.”

Silence ensued and the only sound was the wind blowing harshly against them.

“We are very high.”

“Exactly seven hundred feet that spans across three hundred miles from the Ban of Seals to the Gorge, my lady.”

Alarra stared at the fire next to them.

“Why has my brother gone to Dragonstone?”

“It is not my place to say.”

“The Heir to the Iron Throne must have a reason to summon my brother.”

Ser Wildrow remained silent, gazing at the sky that was darkening.

“It is getting dark, my lady-” Ser Wildrow started, looking back up at Alarra from the fire.

“- and your brother will be back in the morrow.”

Cregan stepped out of the carriage, his feet meeting the thick grass of Winterfell. Cregan’s eyes first met his sister’s. She encompassed a wide smile as she ran towards him, giving him a large hug. She pulled away, grinning widely.

“So, is Prince Jacaerys as handsome as they say?” She asked, laughing as her brother rolled his eyes pushing her away lightly.

“You will have to make that decision yourself.”

“Mhm… and you'll let me beyond these walls when I am merely dust and bone.”

Cregan remained silent, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. He’s hiding something.

“Alarra-” A smile graced Alarra’s face and her eyes widened, almost popping out of her skull.

“You’re letting me leave? I get to leave the North? After all these years?” Alarra stepped towards Cregan surveying his face, but he sighed putting two fingers on his temple.

“Alarra, let’s go inside-” Cregan reached a hand to pull her arm with him, towards the hall but Alarra shoved his arm away.

“No. Tell me now.” She ordered, tipping her chin upwards. A confident gesture. But, the next words that escaped his mouth were not something the Princess of the North were thinking she’d hear. She was hoping she could be free. Travel the country of Westeros with her elder brother by her side. Hence never leaving his side or the city of Winterfell, she yearned to escape. To leave. To see what lies beyond the clutches of an eerie landscape with nothing but trees and people like herself. But, she was now to be locked away in another castle, far away from her brother.

“I have given your hand to Joffrey Velaryon.”

A/N: Hi! Thank you so so much for reading! This is my first time ever posting or writing a fanfiction so please leave me some feedback. LMK if theres any corrections to be made or grammatical/spelling errors! This chapter is mainly to introduce you to the FMC (Alarra Stark, my OC) and to give you a glimpse into her past and future. Her and Aemond wont meet for two more chapters, so stay tuned!

PS I am NOT finished with Game of Thrones but I AM finished with House of the Dragon so let me know if i made any canon mistakes and if not it is now fanon! Lol and no spoilers please

[myheadhurtscutely]

Star Stationary - Modern!Anakin Skywalker x Reader - Chp. 3

C ` Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Summary ` You heed ani's advice and try to go on the date with his friend, but you wind up on a whole other road, in someone else's car. Everything happens for a reason i guess?

!Warnings! Angst. But little fluffy bits here and there

wc ` 2k

notes ! this is closely based on characters, Jim and Pam, from a tv show, The Office.

Chapter one Chapter two

One date. That's all it was. One date.

You had called the number Anakin so kindly gifted you. The guy answered, and you swear you didn't even catch his name. Not that he didn't tell you. To be honest you just didn't care. Unless it was the blue-eyed boy you dream of every night. you. didn't. care.

The date rolled around. A cold and windy Sunday, not out of the norm lately. You weren't trying to impress this stranger you were soon to see, but it doesn't hurt to dress up a little. It made you feel cute. You also subconsciously knew that you were dressing up just in case. Always just in case. What if Anakin walked in to grab a coffee to go? What if you passed by him on the street as your head hung, listening to the breeze in one ear, and some jazz melody in the other. You knew it was crazy but it's what made each day kind of exciting.

After adjusting your hair pin just right, you slid on your gloves and headed out to the cold world. A good 10-minute drive to downtown, and you had arrived. You paid your parking meter and began to walk, passing small, and grand shops along the way. The air nipped your reddening nose, frost bit your cheeks, and a wind carried your beath to the next street. This was your first time around here since you moved. New sights and smells matted themselves into your memory. It was all so wonderful. Lusty dusk haze mixed with the hanging lights on restaurant patios, and led your path as you made it to the cafe.

Ring! The small bell chimed as you pushed the glass door open. Pastries and soups wafted into your nose, and some coffee names caught your eye. It was a nice place. A bit intimate for a first date, but you weren't one to be picky. A low lighting hung over about seven booths, covering the walls of the cafe. You looked for the man you were to be meeting. He said he had short, fading ginger/brown hair, and a beard. Wow. How descriptive. Luckily there was only three groups of people in the cafe. A group of teens, a couple, and a man with a beard at the booth closest to the door. Ah, there he is.

He wasn't bad looking by any means, a bit older but that didn't deter you. His eyes were downturned, and kind looking. To be honest, you looked for Anakin in him, but there was no resemblance.

"Hello? Are you here to meet someone?" Your voice was quiet to accommodate the deafening silence of the cafe. He smiled and nodded.

"Yes," His smiled beamed a bit too bright for you. It made you feel bad for how much your mind was not even willing to give this guy a chance. "are you..." his voice trailed, checking your identity.

You answered politely, giving the appropriate response. He stood up out of the booth. He was tall and had the most stereotypical dad bod. It worked for him. He was handsome, but not like Anakin. No one was like Anakin. He was in a league of his own entirely. The guy stuck out his hand, guiding you gently into the booth. You obliged and scooted into your side of the booth as he sat back down.

The silence was the worst thing you had endured in a while. It was painful. He was sweet but awkward.

"I must say you are stunning by the way. I'm sorry if that's too forward." You blush in response, no matter who from, a compliment was appreciated. You reassured and thanked him. Conversation begun to drag on, though you wouldn't call it 'conversation.' Much of it was one-sided. Not through any fault of his, the chemistry just wasn't there. None of your hobbies aligned with his. His humor wasn't one that made you laugh, but most of all,

he just wasn't Anakin.

You genuinely felt horrible for being unable to give him a try, despite his best efforts to connect with you. It was getting bright outside though, and you both knew the date was coming to an end.

After simple goodbyes to a stranger, you made your way out the door. No “i’ll call you later”s or “i had a nice time”s were said before you left, but that was ok. No reason to give a man false hope like that.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─────

The rest of the weekend was spent with you rotting in your bed, shaming yourself for you continuing dreams of a future with Anakin. He nor his Padme deserved that.

Eventually ripping yourself from your disheveled sheets, you silenced your alarm clock and did your routine for the morning. You weren’t gonna be late at all, but you definitely didn’t plan on being early to work today. A simple white button down, a pencil skirt, and your trustworthy coat were sufficient for the day.

Packed and ready to go, you shut your car door and made your way to your office. On some backroad, a sputtering started. “Oh fuck.” You said breathily. You weren’t much of a car person, and now was not the time. You had left 15 minutes later than you normally would’ve and this was a bad setback. The car slowly slid to a stop, ignoring your foot on the gas pedal. On the side of the road now, in some grassy patch, you laid your head against the wheel and cried. It had all been too much lately, and now this.

Who would you even call? You have no friends or family around. You just moved here. In that moment isolation was the only fitting feeling.

Pulling out your phone you scrolled through contacts. Endlessly. Most of them being from back home so they were of no use to you. Then it hit you, the only other person near, that could be up and about at this hour. Anakin.

You hesitated before pressing his contact. What if he got upset with you for calling so early? What if you were bothering him. What if Padme answered. The thoughts swirled in your head like a rising storm, but you eventually pushed through and rang him.

ring…

ring…

ring…

You became nervous, and slightly embarrassed. Please please pick up. The cold surface flush against your cheek.

The dial tone stopped, and the phone crackled as Anakin's tired voice answered from the other side. "Hey Snickers," he yawned, "are you okay?" You wanted to squeal. After scolding yourself silently and quickly, you responded.

"Hey, im so so sorry for calling so early. I just didn't know who else to call. I was on my way to work, and my car broke down and and now I'm going to be late." Thats when the embarrassing sniffling started as you continued to ramble worries and apologies to his tired ears.

"Hey hey hey, calm down it's gonna be okay, stay there. Can you send me your location?" You mumbled a 'Mhm". "Great, thank you sweetheart, I'll be there soon." Mummbling a goodbye, you removed your phone from your red-hot ear. 'Sweetheart' was he feeling ok?

A few minutes after the location was sent, a black car rolled up to the front of yours. Anakin popped out of it, sending a smile and wave your way. His hair was still untamed from his haste to get to you, but he still had on his buttoned shirt and his usual work pants. You smiled back, and the two of you came to meet in the middle.

"Hey, you ok?" He asked, gently rubbing your shoulders.

"Yeah" You shrugged into his warm hands. "It just like, crapped out on me I guess. I really can't be late Anakin." He seemed to stare at the car and back at you, then the car again.

"Hmm, how about you let me take you to work today and then we can worry about this later?" He gave a sideways smile while blowing a stray curl out of his eyes.

You sighed and smiled at him, "I really don't want to impo-"

"Stop. I offered; you could never be an imposition to me." His hands found their way to your shoulders again, as if he was holding you to the ground to keep you from floating away.

"Ok but I'm giving you gas money." Anakin laughed in your face, guiding you over to the passenger door and opening it politely.

"I'm a big boy, don't worry about it sweetheart."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─────

The ride was relatively quite, with Anakin’s music playing in the background. “So” he had opened the room for air, “how’d your date go?”

Your body tightened up. You didn't want him to know, it was embarrassing. Plus, maybe pretending you were fulfilled relationship wise, would help get Anakin out of your head. "It was alright." You tripped over your words, as if your mouth was running a race, trying to speed through the sentence as fast as you could.

Quickly shifting the ball to his court, you prompted your own question. "What about you and your girl?" Anakin pursed his lips. His beautiful brows furrowed, and you suddenly got a feeling of guilt for contorting his poor face.

"My girl? Oh, Padme?"

"Yeah."

"So-so." He waved his hand in the air in a tilting motion showing half-and-half whilst laughing. You laughed along with him, trying to include yourself in whatever odd conversation you had just conjured in the cold car. "Can I be honest?"

"Of course, Anakin." You could've sworn his eyes fluttered at the mention of his name falling from your lips.

"I've been living with one of my buddies for about 2 weeks now..." Anakin turned his head ashamedly. "Her and I just were too different, and things got heated, and... I don't know. It's like I just realized we weren't in love anymore. So did she."

The car was now in park. It was still dawn outside and both you and Anakin sat in silence for a short while. "I'm um, I'm so sorry Anakin." Your heart really did hurt for him, but there was also a gnawing voice, condemning you for feeling a twinge of poor hope in your heart at the new turn of events.

"It's okay, it had been coming for a while." He sighed and looked over to you, "you kinda set it in motion." He laughed. Your eyes widened in horror and surprise.

"Huh? What do you mean?" Anakin smiled that goofy godforsaken smile at you, pushing up his glasses.

"She had begun to get jealous of you after she saw your purple pen in my pocket, and rightfully so I guess." He looked back down at the floorboard in the car. You cocked your head to the side, giving him a questioning, intense stare.

He looked at you, his eyes half-lidded for a moment, "You're beautiful, and smart, and funny. Hell, if I was a girl I'd be jealous too."

Your face flushed and your lips curled into an unwanted smile, revealing your emotions at your very surface. "Oh, shut up." Was your only comeback. I mean what were you supposed to say? Your heart was slamming into your chest as if was begging to get out and lie next to his.

"Wow," He clasped his hand over his heart dramatically, "I'm so hurt."

"Oh no! Whatever shall I do!?" You jest back, the air now seeming lighter. The both of you just smiled and laughed at each other. "C'mon goof or were gonna be late."

You both open your respective doors, but not without Anakin rushing to your passenger side to help you carry your things inside. It was picturesque the way both of your silhouettes playfully knocked into one and other on the way to the entrance of The Office.

An; IM SO SORRY PLEAVE FORGIVE MY SINS ITS BEEN FOUR MONTHS SINCE I UPDATED THIS SERIES. Im getting back on the grind tho i swear. Seriously thoguh, i really appreciate the support on this series and couldnt be more thankful :)

tags ` @darthgloris , @queenie-official , @bby-imasociopath , @mxltifxnd0m , @jayrami3 , @robertsmithclone , @brainscabs , @bimbo-baggins86 , @t8lzw, @nxck-bxtch, @ddarling-ddearest-ddead, @signmethefuckupmhmm

(<3)

[kanencrow]

A Short Conversation - Shauna Shipman | One Shot

Summary: It was a common occurrence for you to wait for Shauna to get done with practice. By the time she’s all showered and ready to go, she finds you at your usual spot in the library, reading a book that you find yourself struggling to comprehend.

Warnings: Swearing.

A/N: All characters are 18+ by default. Here's another little piece of writing that I made a while back. It's nothing too long or extreme, just a short conversation between you and Shauna about books.

Word Count: 1700+

"You know she was only forty-one when she died?"

The chair beside you pulled out from its original position with a quiet squeak, interrupting the quiet atmosphere that the library had always been naturally consumed in, and with a tinge of endearment sparking inside of your chest at the familiar voice that hit your ears, the corner of your lip curled up into a miniscule smirk. You knew she was referring to the author of the book you were reading: Jane Austen. You knew to leave it to a certain brown-eyed bookworm to know all the lore behind someone or something she was fixated on.

"I... didn't know that," you eventually muttered, answering the open-ended question with a tone of appreciative understanding, before you internally pinpointed your spot in the book that you had rented for the evening and casually shifted your gaze to meet a pair of brown irises. The same pair that you had grown to lose yourself within every time you stared into them, "Hey, Shaunie," you murmured, keeping your volume low, just so Mrs. Fletcher wouldn't hear you and scold you again for 'being too loud,' according to her bat-like hearing.

With the way Shauna's slightly damp hair was still in a messy ponytail and she was sporting a slight blush on her cheeks, it wasn't difficult to detect that she had just come back from practice, which was why you had been sitting inside of the library after hours in the first place. She always took a shower in the locker room after every skirmish Coach Ben pushed onto her and the rest of the team that chose to stick around, and that made the time it took for her to meet up longer, but you didn't necessarily mind it. 

You remembered asking her once upon a time, inquiring why, and she stated how she didn't want to 'stink up her car,' as if her body odor was enough to act as some sort of encapsulating aroma that would linger, if it became trapped in the space of her fun-sized SUV. You and she both knew that her internalized fear couldn't realistically happen, but it was a valid argument nonetheless, and one you didn't feel the need to debate. Besides, you had been far more focused on the way her eyes shined happily in that moment, and how the dimples in her cheeks showed themselves to you like a personal gift, so it wasn't as though you were completely invested in the topic.

Kind of like now.

It felt like you had been staring at Shauna for an eternity, before you blinked back into reality and noticed that she had settled down from her quiet bout of amusement and nodded down towards the book that you had since rested against your thigh. "I see you're reading something different." Your thumb acted as the bookmark, with the way it nestled under the weight of all the pages you previously read. It was no longer an interest to you, however, because she was present, and so it wasn't difficult to hear her when she eventually spoke up again, as she leaned closer to you and scrutinized the paperback cover of the novel. 

"Mansfield Park?" she hummed out, a questioning tone to her voice, as her eyebrows rose in wonder. She was reading the name of the title, you mentally knew, deep down... somewhere inside of your distracted brain. Though even then, you found yourself unable to comprehend what she was referring to, which must have been apparent on her pallid features, the moment she raised her brown eyes up to meet yours and sent you a knowing expression. "How are you liking it so far?"

You felt awfully pathetic for lacking a basic attention-span when it came to her, though you were thankful you managed to answer her question without much of a hitch, when your eyes slightly widened, and you shifted your head down to stare at the cover of the book. "It's... interesting, to say the least," you admitted, before you pursed your lips and lifted your gaze to meet her own once more, which showed a clear emotion of intention and genuine interest towards what you had to say. 

It made you feel warm inside, even if you knew that the true reason as to why she was asking you about the story you were reading wasn't one without intention. "It's about this woman, named Fanny Price," you told her, explaining what you learned of the novel throughout the short span of time you had spent skimming through the pages, "she was sent to live with her asshole of an uncle, but I guess she's... making the most of it by delving into different romantic endeavors with the people around the town?"

You weren't entirely sure if you were understanding what you were reading. Then again, your ignorance made sense, considering you hadn't put in a valiant effort to figure out the plotline and writing style that was Jane Austen: one of Shauna Shipman's favorite authors. So, your tone was accurate when it came to conveying your confusion, and it caused the brunette to let out an amused huff, before she shook her head and promptly grabbed the paperback out of your hand with a gentleness that made you tolerant in letting it happen.

You watched her as she stared down at it for a few moments, delicate fingers tracing over the art on the paper cover. "Be honest," she started, her brown hues locking firmly with yours while she spoke and propped her brow up knowingly, "you're only reading this because I teased you the other day for consuming only horror books."

"It's not my fault I like suspenseful stuff," you hushed out, slumping your shoulders, as you attempted to defend your affinity towards horror novels. It only encouraged a teasing smile to grow on Shauna's lips, and with how close she sat next to you, it wasn't difficult to detect the subtle quiver in them. "Don't laugh at me again," you immediately uttered, upon noticing her poor attempt at hiding her amusement, and when the curve of her mouth heightened into a closed grin, you rolled your eyes and glanced away from her to mindlessly stare at Mrs. Fletcher, who sat at the library's front desk and typed away angrily at the blocky computer in front of her. 

"Maybe I'd like it more if I could actually relate to it," you defended quietly, before you shifted your focus back towards the bookworm and tilted your head to the side. "I wouldn't say I'm the type of demographic that would organically read something like Mansfield Park," you paused and sent her an apologetic stare, "no offense."

She didn't seem offended by your words, though. She only hummed in silent understanding, before she leaned forward and set the book down onto the wooden surface of the table in front of the two of you. "That's why I've never read this one," she told you, as you watched her slide her hand away from the cover and slowly settle back into the uncomfortable backing of the wooden chair. Your eyebrow rose in ignorance, clearly not grasping what she was attempting to imply by her vague comment, but you lacked the brain power to directly inquire. 

Especially when she moved her head to look at you and sent you a lopsided smile, "Pride and Prejudice is good," she admitted, which piqued your interest, "and if you like poetry, there is Emily Dickinson." She shrugged, giving you different ideas, but you found yourself mindlessly shaking your head, set in your ways, before you lifted your arm and rested your elbow over the top of your seat, as you grasped the wrist that limply hung down with the fingers of your other hand.

You stared at Shauna silently, and when her own gaze remained unwavering from your own, as she admired your features and the color of your eyes, you felt the corners of your lips lift up into a loving smile. There was something oddly domestic about sitting in the library with someone you had an unlabeled, but undeniably intimate relationship with. You understood her, and she understood you, and it was nice, and it was comfortable... and it didn't make you feel like you had to act like someone you weren't. 

You had always been a recluse, someone who didn't often like to converse with people, and although she pulled you out of your shell – if only slightly – she didn't attempt to change you. You didn't try to change her, either. You liked her for who she was. Both bad and good. Maybe that wasn't something two supposed 'best friends' were supposed to feel towards one another, but you and her did anyway, and it felt natural and fine. You didn't see a problem with it, and neither did she.

It only encouraged you to speak up, and you allowed your words to float into the air without any sort of restraint, or care on how they may have come across to her own ears. "I'll just write a book," you mumbled softly after a moment, as your eyes flickered down to her mouth, using your pause to admire the person before you, "about us." You twisted your lips in contemplation, "That's something I'd read."

Shauna let out a quiet giggle at your words, but it wasn't done in a way to make fun of you. If anything, she agreed, and you smiled brighter when she inevitably nodded her head in affirmation and nudged her knee against your own affectionately. "We'll do it together," she told you, “once we get out of this town.” 

You huffed softly, feeling endeared at her tone of determination, as well as her desire to hightail it out of Wiskayok, and you bowed your chin in agreement, all while you felt your heart flutter in your chest. "Deal," you hummed out. You sent her a soft smile in that same moment, and there was a certain air of affection that consumed the atmosphere between the two of you, as you thoughtfully stared into her brown eyes.

And just like earlier, you found yourself getting lost in them.

As always, if you guys have any ideas for another one shot or headcanon or whatever, let me know! I'm in need of some ideas!

[hauntedestheart]

Ok so I just found and read Security Measures and I’m kinda actually in love with Dante. Do you think he might make a return? Ngl he seems like a prime opportunity for some Consensual Possession(tm) fun for the boys.

Since "Security Measures" is just a bunch of non-linear vignettes I didn't actually have any plans for Dante to return, but this was such a sweet ask that I was inspired to revisit his character!

I wanted to try and explore what "consensual possession" would be like but fair warning, it does get pretty explicit towards the end.

----

Extra Security: Dante (Male Possession)

A side story from the Security series detailing a meeting between Andy and Dante, the friendly body hopper they met in Security Measures - Bodyhoppers

Robin's Egg Brew was located right on the edge of campus so despite its eye roll inducing name (and painfully blue decor), it did good business. It was a minor miracle that Andy had managed to snag a seat at a small table because the place was packed with bodies, and while Andy wasn't the type of guy who minded waiting fifteen minutes to get his order, the crowd did present him with a problem- the person he was meeting up with a body hopper, who could be anyone in the room.

Since their first encounter and the subsequent hookup, Dante had become a friend to Andy and a sometimes fuckbuddy whenever the stars aligned for a three-way with Trevor- although his unusual lifestyle meant that they couldn't get together too often. When they did hook up, it was always with Dante's real body (because Trevor said it would be "hypocritical" of them to take advantage of one of Dante's hops), but when it was just him and Andy hanging out as buddies there was no telling who he'd turn up as.

Normally, Dante would send a quick selfie to let Andy know who to look for, but today he was being strangely evasive and had only given his friend one clue.

💪🏿Dante🐇: You'll know it's me- just look for the hottest guy there.

Andy read the text again, humming thoughtfully under his breath, and took another look around. Seated with his back to the wall he had a good vantage point of the rest of the cafe, and he casually took a sip of his coffee as a cover while he eyed the other patrons and tried to scope out which one his friend was hiding inside of.

He'd seen enough of Dante's "conquests" to have a sense for his friend's taste, so he felt pretty confident he could figure it out on his own. The first thing he did was disregard all the women- Dante had explained that while there were hoppers who enjoyed crossing gender lines, he wasn't one of them. There weren't many older people in the cafe, but Dante liked to stick to his own age demographic anyways, so the few that were present were off the list as well.

It was tougher to thin the field after that. Dante had made his preference for bigger guys clear (his jokes about how he wanted to take Andy's stacked body out for another spin always ended with a "hahaha... unless?") but that still left quite a few options. The easy choice was the burly dude who looked like a lumberjack reading by the window, but he had a waxed mustache and Dante would never. There was a guy from the university wrestling team (still in a form fitting singlet, extra points) who seemed like a promising lead, but he was disqualified after his girlfriend showed up and the two started making out.

Andy was still debating between the chubby dude with glasses waiting in line and the gym rat who had just come out of the bathroom when he felt a hand on his shoulder; he instantly lit up when he saw who it was.

"Trevor!" he exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement at the sight of his skinny little brown skinned boyfriend. He squeezed Trevor's hand tight. "You came!"

"'Course I did," Trevor said, smiling back with all his teeth, then he ruffled his own hair with his free hand. "I wouldn't miss out on a chance to see Dante, Dante's the best."

Andy scooted over and patted the space on the bench next to him, slinging his big arm over Trevor's shoulder the second he was seated and nestling his smaller boyfriend into his side possessively. Sometimes Andy worried that he was a bit too clingy in situations like this, but Trevor pressed in closer, so he figured he was in the clear. He held in his sigh of contentment though- he had to maintain some dignity.

"So, have you found Dante yet?" Trevor asked, leaning his head on Andy's strong chest and letting one of his hands idly rest on Andy's abdomen. Andy shook his head.

"Nah, he's being weird about it this time," he replied, taking another glance around the crowd- the chubby guy he'd had his eye on was walking out with a cup of coffee and the gym rat was racing back into the bathroom with a queasy look on his face, so it was back to the drawing board. "No photo or nothing, just said he was gonna be 'the hottest guy here.'"

"Oh really?" Trevor sounded amused. His hand was drifting up and down lazily like he was petting his Andy's abs through his shirt, which was making it a bit hard for the big guy to keep his head on straight, and Trevor peered up at his boyfriend with one raised eyebrow. "Hottest guy here, huh? Tell me, which one of these guys is the hottest to you?"

"Trev," Andy teased, nuzzling the top of his boyfriend's head "No one here is hotter than you."

And Andy knew Trevor had a thing about PDA, but the little guy looked so cute and the moment was so perfect that he couldn't resist leaning down and stealing a quick little peck on the lips. A brief kiss- but it gave Andy pause.

He pulled back and Trevor smiled at him, but Andy's eyes were searching the familiar features of his boyfriend's face for something. His brow furrowed, then he surged forwards and went back in again for another kiss. The one was deeper and more aggressive, with the big guy practically pinning his twinkish companion into the wall as his tongue quested inside of his mouth, but the lightning round make out session ended abruptly with Andy bolting to his feet in shock and his partner falling flat on the bench.

"Dante?" Andy asked, staring down at the form of his boyfriend with shock, and the 'Trevor' in front of him lifted his head up and gave a snort of amusement.

"Damn, that's it?" Dante said, using two fingers to throw Andy a cheeky little salute. "I thought I'd have you going for a few minutes at least. Being friends with normies is making me lose my touch."

Still sprawled out on the bench, the body hopper took a moment to stretch out his borrowed form (making sure to arch Trevor's back and show off his tight little booty in a way that the real Trevor never would) and Andy awkwardly averted his eyes. Then Dante pushed himself to his feet and slipped around the table to claim the empty chair Andy had been saving for him.

"I wish you could have seen what you looked like when you thought I was actually him," Dante gave a good natured roll of his eyes and gestured for his friend to sit down; speechless, Andy complied. "You practically melted into a puddle of butter. I hate how disgustingly cute you two are, it's indecent."

"You hopped Trevor? My Trevor?" Andy shook his head with disbelief, then leaned forwards on his elbows (flexing his biceps to make sure he looked as big as possible) and lowered his voice a bit. "Look man, you're my friend so I don't wanna accuse you of anything, but I... I thought it was clear that Trevor was off-limits."

Dante just smiled and leaned back in his chair, running his hands down the length of Trevor's slender body like he was smoothing out some clothes- but Andy practically growled at him, so he lifted his hands and held them up in a we cool gesture.

"You can settle down loverboy, Trevor was the one who suggested this. Said it would be fun for you to see him being the one to get snatched for once," the body hopper folded his arms behind his head and glanced sideways at them, frowning at how skinny they looked. "And I agreed even though it meant hopping into a twink, so you're welcome for that."

The two young men held eye contact for a moment, Andy looking like he was debating whether or not to explode as he scrutinized the hopper who had stolen his boyfriend's body, but then he let out a sigh and retreated. His fists unclenched and he relaxed back against the booth, body practically deflating as the bluster abandoned him and the tension bled from his big muscles.

"Okay," Andy said, voice still a bit pinched, and he winced at Dante apologetically. "I mean, I trust you man, it's just... you know..."

"Nah man, it's all cool. I get it!" the body hopper shrugged his ethically borrowed shoulders and gave Andy his most charming smile, batting Trevor's pretty eyelashes sweetly up at the boy's boyfriend. "You don't like people fucking with the love of your life, I respect that."

Dante took great pleasure in watching the way that Andy grew all flustered when he said that (it never stopped being funny that such a big guy turned into a blushing schoolgirl whenever it came to Trevor, homeboy was whipped) and he took advantage of the distraction to snatch his friend's coffee cup off the table and steal a sip of it. Considering the fact that they'd been swapping spit a minute ago, he didn't think Andy would mind.

Andy cleared his throat and gestured to the cup. "I would have gotten you your usual but I didn't know if whatever body you were in would like the taste of black coffee with a bunch of caramel in it," then he paused and wrinkled his nose. "Kinda don't know how you like the taste of that either."

Dante snorted and slid the cup back across the table. "Now I know the man who guzzles lemon ginger ale rum isn't coming for my taste..."

"Oh yeah?" Andy crossed his arms and grinned. "Don't lie, I'll bet you wish you were guzzling shit with my tongue right now. Thirsty motherfucker."

Dante rolled his eyes and flipped Andy off, and then the two men burst out laughing. The shared moment gave Andy permission to relax and clear the doubts from his head- they were just two buddies hanging out as usual, nothing weird about it at all.

"I fucking missed you dude, how've you been?" Dante asked, giving Andy a quick once over. The guy was still as ridiculously hot as ever, and Dante wasn't afraid to comment on it. "You're looking good- maybe too good actually, I bet those muscles are like catnip for hoppers. You been snatched lately?"

Andy grinned- he and Trevor liked to keep his "condition" on the down-low (for obvious reasons) so one of the best parts about having a hopper for a friend was having someone to talk to about this kind of stuff. Though Dante could be pretty cagey about certain aspects of being a hopper, it was clear he was in a similar boat, so whenever the two met up they always had wild stories to share.

"No hoppers actually, but I did get caught out by a ghost the other day, and body swapped with a high schooler," Andy reported, shuddering at the memory of being stuck back in puberty for a few days while the kid was out there guzzling beers. "Also a guy from my chemistry class started messing around with astral projection and was taking me out to clubs so Trevor glued his third eye shut."

Dante sucked in a sympathetic breath and winced. "That sounds exactly like something Trevor would do."

"Yeah..." Andy said softly, and there was a moment where he looked at Dante with this fond look in his eyes before he remembered that he wasn't it real Trevor. Dante pretended not to notice and let Andy recover with a sip of coffee. "How about you, man? Haven't heard from you in a minute, you kinda dropped off the map for a bit."

"I was on tv, if you can believe it," Dante said, nodding cockily as Andy flung his hands up shouted "DUDE!" at the top of his lungs. He inspected the back of Trevor's hand nonchalantly as he spun his yarn. "Managed to hop a guy who was on a reality dating show but didn't realize it meant I'd get sequestered for like a month- coulda hopped out but, well, I wanted to win. I'll show you later, it's on Netflix." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I was totally the fan favorite, made sure they got lots of shots of his big old ass."

"Ah yes, Dante, the biggest ass man I know," Andy teased, and Dante didn't even bother trying to deny it- especially when sitting in front of one of his favorite asses he'd ever hopped. "That's insane dude. And a month- that's a long time for you stay in one guy, right?"

"Yup, set a new record for myself actually," Dante said proudly, grateful for the chance to flex his hopping prowess a bit, and the two fist bumped.

Andy leaned forwards, excited. "Did you win the show?"

"Buddy," Dante raised an eyebrow. "That's a spoiler."

The two chatted for a while, trading a few more stories, complaining about the latest updates to some of their multiplayer games, making plans to watch an upcoming movie- to any onlooker who knew Andy & Trevor, it might have even looked like a normal date between the two boyfriends. It wasn't until later, after the barista called out Dante's name (well, Trevor's name) and he got up to go collect his drink, that Dante caught Andy staring at him with a strange look on his face.

The body hopper stood still for a moment, staring blankly back at his friend from behind the face of his boyfriend, then he sighed and plunked himself down on the bench next to Andy.

"This is weird for you, huh?" he asked, setting his coffee down on the table then leaning back against the booth and looking sideways at Andy. Andy looked like he might try to protest, but Dante decided to be nice and let him off the hook. "I'm not offended, Trevor said it was gonna be a little awkward."

"It's just weird," Andy admitted with a shrug, suddenly struggling to look over at his friend Dante. "Don't get me wrong, I'm cool with you being a hopper, but usually you show up as some random guy I've never met. Seeing it happen to someone I'm so close to, it's..."

His voice trailed off and Andy studied Trevor's face, his favorite face in the whole world, but it wasn't really his boyfriend's face. Trevor didn't squeeze his cheeks like that. Trevor didn't flare his nostrils like that. The look in his eyes was completely different. This wasn't him.

It was especially strange because he'd gotten used to picking out Dante's different little quirks no matter what body he was in, so seeing them plastered onto Trevor of all people just felt... wrong.

And Trevor has to deal with seeing me like this all the time, Andy thought to himself, feeling guilty as he threw another entry onto the giant list of things he felt he owed his boyfriend for.

Emotions played out very visibly on Andy's face and as Dante watched his turmoil, for a second, he felt a twinge of guilt. But he shook it off pretty quickly- a hopper never felt bad about taking someone's body, least of all one they were invited into.

Still, Andy was his friend, so he rubbed his friend on his hulking shoulder and smiled sympathetically. "You know I wouldn't hurt him."

"I know that, you're a cool guy and I didn't mean to-" Andy gestured vaguely at the air with his hands, hoping that his gesture articulated what he felt without words, and Dante nodded his acceptance. Then, curiously, Andy glanced around to see if anyone was listening before leaning in close and nudging Dante on the side. "Look, Dante, I gotta ask... man to man... what's it like in there? How do you feel?"

Dante furrowed his brow- Andy usually held back questions about Dante's lifestyle, so the question came a bit out of the blue. "How do I feel?"

"Sorry, is that like, a racist question to ask a hopper?" Andy winced and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I just know you've been in a lot of guys before and since it's Trevor I'm... curious."

"Nah, you're fine, it's just not usually something hoppers talk about much," Dante paused for a moment, weighing his options, and then he shrugged. "But I guess since it's your boyfriend's body, it's only fair."

Andy leaned forwards, not even bothering to hide the way curiosity radiated off of him. Hoppers valued secrecy above all else, so Andy always tried to listen whenever Dante was willing to drop some nuggets of wisdom- and besides, Trevor would definitely want to hear about it later.

Dante rubbed at his chest (Trevor has NO pecs, he thought glumly) and stared into the distance, pondering how to best explain it to a non-hopper. It wasn't something he thought hard about often, and he talked about it still less.

"Did you know that babies are born knowing how to swim?" he began, and Andy looked a bit confused, but this was as simple as Dante was going to be able to make it so he just kept going. "Babies can actually swim really well, but their brains don't hold on to the information so they lose it as they grow up. Hoppers don't forget."

"And humans are like... pools. Anyone can jump into a pool if they know how to swim, but some are gonna be easier to swim in than others," the hopper paused and licked his lips, staring dreamily at Andy's hunky body. "Slipping into you, my friend, is like slipping into a hot tub. You're a spa day. A four star luxury vacation."

Andy crossed his arms and frowned. "Seriously?"

"What? It's a compliment!" Dante gave his friend a shit eating grin, which faded to something a bit more serious a moment later as he looked down at the hands he was currently using. "Slipping into Trevor is like diving headfirst into the Pacific Ocean. I don't know if I'd still be in him right now if he didn't want me here- I gotta give it to him, he's a tough little dude."

"He sure is..." Andy mumbled wistfully, staring at Trevor's body with that puppy dog look in his eyes again, and the moment was getting a bit too sentimental so Dante had to course correct.

"And he's got tight little body too," he said, leaning back and pulling Trevor's shirt up so he could look down at his stomach- while he didn't have crazy abs like his boyfriend, he was flat and had some decent tone to him. "You know that I'm usually all about the big guys but I'm kinda digging how compact everything in here is. I was worried I was gonna feel like a scarecrow but he's not that bad- his butt is a lot bigger than you'd expect too, especially for his frame."

"Trust me, I'm very familiar with Trevor's butt," Andy commented, then he reached over and tugged Trevor's shirt back down protectively. Dante pouted. "And I should have known you were gonna comment on it- if there's one thing Dante's gonna do, it's focus on a guy's butt."

"I can talk about his dick too if it makes you feel better," Dante taunted, then he spread his legs and palmed at the bulge in the front of his pants- Andy looked scandalized, but there was nothing he could do to stop it without risking drawing attention, and the hopper made sure to stare right into his eyes as he toyed with his boyfriend's dick. "It's cute! Not the biggest, but what it lacks in size, it makes up for in tenacity. Trevor is horny- I don't know how he keeps the whole 'shy' act up when this thing is practically spring loaded and his balls seem to have some kind of infinite cum hammer space inside of them."

"I know what you mean..." The thought of Trevor's penis stirred up happy memories for Andy, and he smiled fondly. "You know how Trevor and I swapped before we got together? That was the first time I saw his dick and it had me losing my mind- I jacked off three times before I went to go find him."

"See?" Dante squeezed Trevor's privates one more time before releasing them with a grin. "People give hoppers so much shit for messing around with guys, but put one of you inside of a hottie's body and you're exactly the same as us. We're all just after the same things in life."

"Speaking of which..." he said ominously.

Without warning, Dante hoisted himself up and flipped around so he was sitting on top of Andy, straddling his lap and pressing their bodies close together in a completely shameless display of public affection. The real Trevor would never dare to be caught in such a position, which is what made it so fun for Dante- and the look of complete shock on Andy's face was priceless.

"What the fuck Dante?" Andy exclaimed, glancing around wildly to make sure no one was looking. His hands shot out on instinct and curled around Trevor's skinny waist as he tried to stabilize his body so he wouldn't fall, and it only made the scene appear more lascivious, and Dante was living his best life.

"What? Did you think that Trevor let me hop him so the two of us could sit here and complain about patch notes?" The body hopper tilted his head back dramatically and shook out Trevor's hair like a porn star peacocking for the camera, checking to see if anyone in the crowded cafe had noticed them (many of them had and were staring with mixed shock and amusement) then he snapped back up with a wicked glint in his eye. "Nah man, this is business. We're here to bang."

He hammered his point in with his butt, flexing it so the round cheeks would caress the fat bulge they were resting on top of, and Andy's dick (in a Pavlovian response to the feeling of Trevor's body) instantly sprang to attention and tried to fight its way through their pants to get to Trevor's hole.

"Shit man, I didn't think it was possible, but you feel even bigger right now," Dante ground down on the bulge and groaned with delight, drawing even more eyes to them. "Maybe that's one nice thing about being smaller."

"Dante, people are gonna see us," Andy squeaked- he meant to growl, but because of the way his belly was flipping he was lucky he was able to get any words out at all.

"Oh no!" Dante gasped, glancing around with mock surprise, then he turned back to Andy and curled Trevor's face into a smile so lecherous that would never belong to the real boy.

He pressed his hands onto Andy's pecs, savoring the feeling of those huge muscle tits of his through his shirt, and gave them a rough squeeze. Andy groaned, eyes almost rolling back up into his head as he fought to keep himself under control. "

We wouldn't want them to think you're cheating on your boyfriend. Wait-" Dante laughed. "I guess that's not really a problem right now! I guess the bigger problem is they might start to think that your sweet little boyfriend is a shameless whore."

"Actually, do you wanna know a secret?" Dante asked, and he leaned in close to Andy's ear so no one else would hear him. Trevor's dick was fully at attention now and he rutted it lazily into Andy's belly, feeling the ridges of his abs even through multiple layers of clothes, and he let the lust he was experiencing leach into his voice. "I wasn't wearing anything when I hopped him. I'm completely exposed inside of him right now and I've been sitting here this whole time, butt naked behind your boyfriend's face, and no one had a clue. Not even you," he teased, nipping at Andy's ear, and felt the man's massive body shiver. "Kinda feels naughty, huh?"

"Dante-" Andy began, chest heaving with heavy breaths, but Dante placed one Trevor's fingers on his lips and silenced him.

"Shhh," he whispered, unable to resist the urge to milk the moment. "Trevor's gonna kill me when he gets his body back and found out I made him act like this in public but come on, he can't blame me! Doesn't he look so hot like this? Doesn't it make you wanna just rip his pants off and bend him over this table and-"

"Sorry guys," said the mildly irritated looking barista who'd been tasked with interrupting their inappropriate display. "You can't be doing that in here."

Dante schooled his expression and turned over his shoulder to apologize (Trevor would never forgive him if he got them banned from this cafe, and for his own safety Dante liked to stay on Trevor's good side) but Andy beat him to the punch.

"We were just leaving anyways," Andy said, practically throwing Dante to his feet and dragging him out the door in record time. They left their coffees on the table.

---

Like most hoppers, Dante had a somewhat complicated relationship with his own body, especially when it came to sex. He was so painfully average in terms of height, build, and appearance, why bother using his boring old form when he could just go out and find a better one? That was one of the charming things about Andy & Trevor- they wanted to fuck around with him, not just whoever he could be for the night.

(And it didn't hurt that the couple were both hot as fuck.)

But at his core, Dante was still a hopper, and every now and then he managed to talk his fuckbuddies into some well-deserved possession play. Andy was okay with being used as long as he knew what was coming, so Dante would slide inside of him and worship that incredible body of his while Trevor watched.

He and Andy would take turns fucking Trevor, using the big guy's heaven sent dick to plow away at the twink's hole while Dante slipped in and out of the hunk's back, trading off control so Trevor never knew who was the one screwing him. Sometimes he'd even switch positions mid-fuck, pulling out of Trevor and letting the smaller guy take a crack at Andy's juicy ass so when Dante gave Andy control again it felt like he went from the top to the bottom in the blink of an eye. Andy's body really was the ultimate sex toy!

But this was his first time using Trevor, and it was a completely different world. When he slipped into Andy he felt powerful and in charge, a Hercules with a dick to match, but slipping into Trevor was the opposite. Slipping into Trevor made him feel... vulnerable, especially once he was on all fours and there was a giant man rocking up behind him to make him his bitch.

Dante had bottomed for Andy in his real body so he had firsthand experience of what it was like to have all that muscle bearing down on him (not to mention practice taking that giant dick of his), but his body had some healthy inches and pounds on Trevor's body that apparently made a lot of difference because he felt like he might snap in half at any second as Andy bottomed out inside of his borrowed hole.

"You make his ass feel different," Andy grunted, clinging tightly to Trevor's hips and holding still for a moment to give his partner time to adjust before he began rocking back and forth slowly. "Is that crazy to say?"

"Not at all," Dante reassured him, his voice a bit strained as he himself being filled up with inch after glorious inch of Andy. The sensation of that massive tool pressing against his walls was... incredible, and seemed heightened with his new nerve endings. "Your dick- fuck -feels different in his ass than mine."

Andy froze mid-thrust and grabbed at his partner's shoulder, touching concern radiating from his eyes. "Am I hurting you?"

"Actually, I think it's easier as him than as me," Dante admitted- part of why he avoided bottoming in other bodies was that he never knew what the person's limits would be, but he'd been surprised by how eagerly Trevor's hole stretched for Andy (especially considering the size of the battering ram being shoved into him) and how quickly his slender body was relaxing into it. "Your boyfriend is tougher than he looks."

"Oh, good," Andy looked relieved and resumed the motion of his thrusts, but the movements were still slow and a bit tentative. Dante could tell from experience (internal and external) that he was holding back.

The hopper huffed out in frustration- what was the point of Trevor letting Andy fuck him like he fucked his boyfriend if the stud was gonna screw him like a stranger? Seemed like a waste of two hot bodies.

"That all you got?" Dante taunted, glancing back over his shoulder and rolling his eyes at Andy. "I've been inside of that body, I know what it can do. You need me to take over? Because I know I'd do twice as good a job using all that meat of yours to destroy your boyfriend's sweet little ass. I'll do it myself if you aren't feeling man enough."

And there was something very Trevor-like about the way Dante looked while he said that that made Andy grin... because if Dante wanted to get fucked like he was Trevor, Andy could fuck him like he was Trevor. He just didn't know if the hopper was prepared for it.

"Challenge accepted," Andy growled, and he started going at it in earnest, and Dante shut the hell up.

The two fucked hot and heavy for a while, and after a few minutes with Andy going at full force, Dante had to admit that the guy definitely knew what he was doing when it came to Trevor's body. He was hitting all of the right spots (some of which were deep inside him) and he was kind of jealous that Andy never pulled these moves on him when he was in his own body, but he also had his doubts about whether his own body could stand up to him like Trevor's could. He had severely underestimated the durability of this skinny little body- maybe twinks aren't so bad after all.

Trevor's dick was swinging back and forth between his legs as his body shook and Andy reached down and seized it, one of his huge hands teasing up and down its length and squeezing it with just the right amount of pressure, and Dante knew he was a goner. But he wasn't quite done with his fun yet, so the body hopper grunted out a warning to Andy, and then made his move.

Trevor rocketed back into control of his body and barely had a second to process where he was (his bedroom) and what was going on (Andy's dick was in his ass) before the orgasm hit him. There was no time to muffle himself like he usually did so he wound up shrieking wild expletives in Spanish as his cock erupted all over the bed, and he barely had the strength to keep himself propped up on his elbows as his partner continued to plow him all through his climax and kept the pace up even after he'd spilled out every drop of cum in his balls.

"Surprise," Andy's voice rumbled behind him, but Trevor wasn't fooled for a second. The angle of the thrust was all wrong.

"That wasn't fair Dante," Trevor panted- though he was still riding the high of endorphins and it was taking most of his energy just to cope with the feeling of his insides being stretched out, he mustered up the attitude necessary to turn his head and glower at the man topping him. The body hopper gave him a cheeky wink and a slap on the ass before his eyes flicked lower and he got distracted watching the way Andy's giant pecs bounced every time he thrusted.

While Trevor couldn't blame the hopper for looking (it was an impressive sight), he did think it was a bit rude to ogle his boyfriend while actively fucking him, so out of a twisted sense of revenge, Trevor flexed something deep inside himself and made his hole tighten in that way he knew drove Andy wild.

Dante didn't stand a chance. "Holy shit, what the fuck did you-"

Trevor watched over his shoulder as Andy's whole body tensed and the real Dante slipped out of his back, and barely a split second later the climax came. Andy gave a series of deep, guttural groans, his body wracked with pleasure, and Trevor felt heavy pulsing in his ass as Andy's balls emptied into the condom.

Both of them collapsed onto the bed, Andy's softening cock still buried deep inside Trevor as his hulking body smothered his smaller partner, and but he was feeling too boneless to move so he just mumbled out an apology and laid there and let the twink luxuriate in the feeling of being buried beneath a mountain of hot, sweaty muscle.

Dante stood above them, harder than he'd ever been in his life as he stared down at the tangle of debauched men before him, and he only had to jerk his own cock a few times before he was adding his own load to the mess already splattered across the pair. He collapsed on the bed next to them, spent and raw after what was basically the longest orgasm of his life, and watched out of the side of his eye as Andy and Trevor adjusted their positions so they could lie face to face with each other. Andy reached down and brushed Trevor's bangs away from his eyes, and Trevor gently took his hand, and it was all so Disney that Dante could barely watch.

"Fuck!" Dante grunted out, flopping onto his back and talking to the ceiling rather than the sickeningly in love couple next to him, and he grinned with all his teeth. "I've always wanted to try my double orgasm trick with three people, that was insane!"

As soon as he felt like he could move again (look at that, he thought, the body hopper not being in control of his body) he threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, looking away so Andy and Trevor could have a private moment together. Instead, he wobbled his way over to their television and pulled out the remote, flipping the screen on and navigating to Netflix.

Trevor caught what he was doing and pushed himself up, away from Andy's embrace, though he kept one hand on his boyfriend's chest as he called across the room towards their hookup with an exasperated look on his face.

"Dante, you're our friend, but no matter how good the sex was I am not watching that shitty reality show you were on," he said flatly, but then Andy nestled his head onto Trevor's shoulder, murmured something into his ear, and the twink relented with a sigh. "Okay, a few episodes, and no one can get mad at me for rolling my eyes."

Dante smiled. It was always fun when the three of them could get together.

[taelonsamada]

I practically went into a fugue state when writing this 🤣 it is fully unedited, all but vomited up, but @dawnofiight got this into my head and I had to get it onto paper as soon as I could 🤣 (paper being figurative in this case) I’m sorry if it feels a bit rushed or out of character, I just had to get it out!! So have livestreamer/blogger Sam on his homestead he lovingly tends with horror gamer Darlin 😁

~~~~~~~~~

“I’m particularly excited about this one, we just finished renovating the chicken coop, so now—Ah! George! Knock it off! Hey!”

Sam did a quick side step to dodge the goat head that had snaked out at his ankles, stopping in his tracks to point a warning finger at the brown and white beast that barely came past his knees. The two of them locked in a standoff with Sam’s work boots as the prize for the victor. Never mind that they were still on Sam’s damned feet, or that the entire thing was being captured by the phone currently in Sam’s hand, which was of course being livestreamed to the twenty thousand followers he’d managed to amass the last couple months.

Because that was absolutely Sam’s luck.

The stare down lasted a moment longer before ‘George’ decided the boots weren’t quite worth what the glint in Sam’s eyes meant, plodding off to likely find something else to chew on. Sam shook his head with a heavy sigh and a crooked grin, raking his fingers through his hair before resuming his walk. “I swear, I’d have made that bastard into a stew ages ago if he didn’t give his some of the best damned babies I’ve ever seen in my life. Now, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, this is the chicken coop we just finished redoing.”

Flipping the livestream to the front camera, Sam began panning the phone across the large chicken run he and Darlin’ had just finished yesterday, pride heavy in his voice. “It’s got twice the floorspace now, so they got a proper run they can explore while still havin’ a roof over their head, which’ll keep ‘em safe from the hawks and eagles. And we got this thick wood along the base to keep the coyotes from gettin’ too nosy as well. Still gotta watch for ‘em cause they’re tricky bastards, but at least we’re making their job harder on em.”

The phone turned a bit more, revealing Darlin’ crouched down inside the actual coop itself, cooing at some freshly hatched chicks as they changed out their feed and water. Their head popped up to smile and wave at Sam, who immediately waved back, a fond, warm look in his eyes. His chest aching with happiness at seeing how well they’d taken to the ‘homesteading’ life.

Knowing how drastic a change it was from the city life they were used to, the fact that they seemed to be thriving in the countryside with him only had him even more convinced he must have done something damned impressive in a previous life to be rewarded like this.

Of course, one could also argue he was equally punished for whatever he did whenever they asked him to join him on on of those horror games they would play on their own stream. Darlin’s fans loved it when he showed up, mainly because of all the cursing and yelling he’d let out during said games. He wasn’t sure what it was; horror movies were a delight for him, but there was just something about the games that had him sweating up a storm. His own subscribers also loved it when he joined in, though it was moreso to see a different side of him, since he was usually more reserved on his own channel.

That thought had him glancing to his phone to check on his livesteam, and he cursed as he saw his thumb had hit the camera flip button at some point while he was staring at Darlin’. The entire chat was losing its mind over the look he’d had on his face while he was watching Darlin’. Countless messages about being ‘moony-eyed’, ‘starstruck’, ‘down bad’ and ‘the ultimate simp’.

Instantly his face took on his usual stern, furrowed huff, shaking his head with a dramatic sigh. “Y’all are bigger fuckin’ animals than the ones I feed, I swear. Keep that up and I won’t show you Moonpie,” he warned, referring to the newly born calf that the chat demanded daily updates on. He smirked crookedly at seeing all the panicked gif reactions, pleas for forgiveness and accusations of being a bully. “Mm… lucky for y’all, Moonpie is a huge diva and loves the attention, so—Dammit, George!”

The camera swung wildly, dropping to show an angled view of the brown and white goat with his teeth locked around the tongue of Sam’s boot, tugging and yanking in an attempt to tear a hunk of the expensive leather free. “I swear, I’m cookin’ you tonight!”

[yandere-heaven-nyxie]

Cries of The Wretched Imposter

•Part 3•

Character mentiond: Zhongli, Venti, Raiden Shogun/Ei, Wanderer, Tsaritsa,

Barbatos wouldn't be hunting down an imposter if it wasn't because he was forced to, he couldn't do it. He does not wish to be a hypocrite, for he himselves had stolen the face of his own friend. Whenever he was forced to hunt them down, he misses the arrow purposely with a pleading look whenever you turn your face towards him.

'Please... Run and be safe.' he thought, he isn't one to be a tyrant. He could see that your soul is gentle, he grips his bow as it disperse into golden particles he doesn't want to harm anybody.

Zhongli, the former Geo Archon. His opinion to obey the Creator is absolute, he shall hunt down the imposter if they oh-so desired it to be. Yet he couldn't, it's like the earth rejected him. Not moving in his command and impale you, it bounced back at him. Whatever he tried, even throwing the meteorite at you but it simply fell onto him. He grit his teeth in absolute rage and frustration, like a dog bearing it's fangs toward the real owner whom it had forgotten.

Raiden Ei, The Electro Archon. She who turned a blind eye towards her people in order to achieve her eternity. To fulfill and gain the righteous bit of attention from her Creator, when the moment the Imposter Hunt Decree had been established. She could feel herself almost ''happy'

Hunting you down when she heard you had stepped foot into Inazuma, she thought she could execute you publicly and earn the glorious reward. When the dog finally showed it's claws, has it realised that it's useless.. As the Mussou Isshin inch closer to slice your neck, the lightning struck down her sword, making it flew away from your neck. The lightning wasn't hers, she saw how the sky darkens more, mists covered the entire land of Narukami it almost reminded them of Tsurumi Island.

"How dare you bare your claws towards our Divine Creator!" The Thunder Manifestation voice booms, a sudden huge void opened in front of you. The Golden Wolflord slithers out of it menacingly, it towers over every citizens of Inazuma. The Shogun looks up in mild annoyance, using her sword to slice through the monstrous being but it does nothing. Her electro power was no longer working, squinting her eyes as she tries again but only to get struck down by Teyvat's lightning. She grits her teeth is anger 'What The Fuck?!'

"Your power is no longer working, You who dares to harm the All-Creator." The Golden Wolflord growls as he speaks. It's little cubs helping you to get off the makeshift guillotine. The larger ones carrying you careful to not harm you with its claws, teleporting you away from them "Your traitorous acts shall not be forgotten, you who has been believing in white lies." The huffs and growls from the Golden Wolflord, the people shiver in fear at the threat.

°~🌙~°

Wanderer who longed to have a heart, was granted with one. He could feel it thump in his chest whenever you get close to touch him, he's eager to be touched by you. He lays his head on your lap, tangling your fingers in his dark violet hair. Humming a soft tune that lulls him to sleep in the comfort of your presence.

He will do absolutely anything for you, anything if it means by killing someone, even that thing that mimicks you. That Disgusting Wretched Worm that tries to mock his god.

°~❄️~°

The Fatui was in a move, they were desperate to find you. They have a different intention unlike other foolish creatures that always follows blindly like a sheep toward that.. Thing.. They have long known that the one on the throne was not you, Tsaritsa saw it with her own two eyes. The blood that spilled from a sword of a traitor, it was red. Tsaritsa at first, was in doubt. Hopefully the blood turns gold after it dried right?

No.. It didn't, even after a few days, after it oxidize.. It just turns brown, just like that of a human. The Prophecy of how the All-Creator's blood is the most purest and divine, wrecked her brain like a tsunami. The fact that the Prophecy never lies, it was a record hidden away from most. Only those who truly recognised the All-Creator shall be granted to have it in their hand. The record was written by Teyvat itselfs, no beings can alter nor can they destroy the record.

_________________________________

Tsaritsa, The Cryo Archon herself. Held you in her arms, she knows that it is undignified and she is basically disrespectful toward you but she didn't care. She wanted to drown herselves in your presence, truly it had an impact on her unlike that imposter. The way you held her in your arms, cradling her taller form to be lower than yours so that you can hug her more comfortably.

She glance past you seeing Nahida and Wanderer, the betrayal of her 6th Harbinger didn't mind her one bit since he was loyal to you. You are everything that she devoted on since the beginning, she will make that thing that sat on the overly tainted gold throne pay. For fooling the entire world.

°~🔴~°

All the people that wronged you, sat on their knees. Begging to be forgiven, begging for anything except of this. All of them from when they scorned, tortured and chased you like an animal, now all of them begging to be forgiven from such sin. Some even tried to kiss your feet but they were kicked away from doing so by Wanderer, "You dare lay your dirty mouth on our Creator, that same mouth that wishes to kill them?!" The people cried and wailed as they were denied to do so

No amount of tears and prostrate will forgive them of their crimes.

That imposter who wore your face, had tried to escape first but failed as they were grabbed by the neck and almsot turned blue. That thing cried and beg to be let go but it's all futile, they shut their fcking mouth when they received death glare from your true acolytes. Your familiars walks beside you, it glowered at the people with hungry eyes. Ready to feast upon the traitors.

The imposter was scared to the bone, trying to get away from Lieu and Daru. Failing to do so as they drag it by the ankle and devoured them like it's their last meal, eaten alive as their guts spew out and dirtying the ground. Though that wasn't enough.

Resurracting that thing back alive again, this time their face was different. It was like those common npc faces, they were yet again tortured by the Harbingers, one by one resurrecting after dying. The blood that spew out of them wasn't gold, it was red. Even after it darkens, it stays that way. None were changed. The people who witnessed this punishment, shall have it engraved in their brain. Tattoo it, that they have worshipped an imposter all along.

All while you were sitting up your throne, a gentle smile plastered on your face, The Cryo, Dendro and Anemo Archon by your side. They all didn't spare a glanced toward that thing, Tsaritsa stared down at the people, "You shall not be forgiven even for eternity. Even until there's no end, Your sins shall not be erased."

The Imposter, died cruelly and rightfully by your hands. Their last words were "Please... End me already." You granted it but not in a pleasent way of course. You may be gentle but sometimes, a heart does not mean it's the only thing that exists within you. You are after all capable of ending anyone if you desired.

None shall forget that either.

Teyvat cheered as the Imposter dies, the birds are singing, the flowers are blooming. On this day, People shall finally open their eyes. To realize what they had done, 'They' who are so blind. Fools who are just so gullible to trust anything on their path without thinking even one single bit.

—The End—

This may be a bit too rushed but I have many new ideas for some reasons.. Again I'm so sorry!! But I hope the new upcoming stories will be more interesting.

Tags: @mulandi @bittersweetorpheus @akemisamui @erosdevil @shizunxie @ehe-te-nandayou @kalims @fauxizs