#The flat will have to be sold so. Get gone.

[crowley1990]

Finding out I’ll have to move out sometime in the next six months or so and it’s like okay great guess it is time to stop accumulating shit then 😑

[inflammatory]

One day you think to yourself damn the guitar work on bigmouth strikes again is honestly mad, and the next

Foiled the bridge pegs - worked really great and just looks sharp even though you don’t…see the pegs, but i spun the peg screws out so the bridge sits rather high, got a proper ‘float’ over the body the way a thing called a floating bridge ought to. The treble side I put higher up to eliminate the superchoked treble strings (the issue was the very very low action, fretting any fret from around 10 and up rang out as like…22!)

With the raised bridge the rattle is worse! Because the jaguar/jazzmaster floating bridge sits in its sockets fixed in only by the tension of the strings. When you bring it up, there’s more room for it to rattle - so the foil wrapped pegs work to fill up the sockets, eliminating this rattle because it fits way more snugly

And anyway I finally found an explanation for the shim that I get that isn’t just a vague “oh it’s part of the offset equation” - hazeguitars explains it as a consequence of the raised bridge itself, cause the intention of raising the bridge for most is for the break angle, where the strings run from fretboard up to the bridge, then break downwards again towards the anchor point in the trem system. Which makes the tension/pressure on the bridge more effective, holds it better, and eliminates buzz (huge nightmare for jag/jm owners apparently but well, never really bothered me, what bothered me was the action so low that the guitar did not function as a guitar!!)

So the assumption is if you raise the bridge for the break angle you don’t want the high action that comes with it, so you put a shim in the neck pocket which will bump the fretboard up a little and keep your break angle without a high ass action.

Which is what I did blindly before I even brought the bridge up. My shim is flat and doesn’t angle up nearer to the body of the guitar because, repeating, this morning I was a sucker without a clue. Thing is because I fiddled with the bridge to fix my action, I believe my break angle isn’t extreme as the ideal is - my bridge still kind of buzzes (granted, not a problem that bothered me until today, I can’t really hear it!! Unless i actively listen out for it!)

Play wise it’s nice, fixed the choked frets and actually it’s better than before the problem even cropped up because it used to be a nightmare fretting high cause it wouldn’t ring as the correct note unless i pressed down really fierce. Now it works fine with normal fretting. I am no jimi hendrix but in this case i can actually say it wasnt all me it was squier by fender and their balls out shitty offset guitar stock set ups. From all the reading i did to understand this guitar I dont think you could play a jaguar nice off the shelf. But he’s never more trouble than he’s worth!!

[silken-moonlight]

Bound for eternity

A/N: After looking at the poll, I now have a proper list of what to write in which order! I am so happy that so many of you helped to decide. I will upload the fourth part of the older Alpha x Human waitress tomorrow. Also: I take requests/questions to stories and characters. For now: have fun with this new little story. - Swan/Moon

You arrived home in the late afternoon, walking through the door of your flat with a sigh. You were finally home again! Your feet hurt and you were sweaty all over. Your friends and you had gone to a renfaire, which had been an amazing experience. There had been so much to see. You had worn new medieval clothing that you had gotten online. You had looked amazing, your friends had looked amazing, and everything had been really just a hit.

However, now you want nothing more than to take a bath and change into your pajamas. Maybe you will make yourself a little snack too. You put away your bag with all the little goodies you had bought and gotten there, setting it aside to put the new stuff away later.

The bathroom door stood open, and you walked through it, drawing yourself a bath. Beforehand, you undressed and put your clothes into the laundry basket. Turning back to your bath, you added some bath oils. You chose some lavender, rosemary, and also added a little rose oil to the water. Lighting some candles for the mood, you quickly got your favorite drink from the kitchen. You returned, closing the bathroom door and proceeding to get into the bath. You sank into the water, a sigh escaping your lips. How good did it feel now that your sore muscles could relax. The hot water was doing wonders for you.

Your thoughts drifted back to your day as your gaze fell upon your wrist. A thick silver bracelet, or bangle, hung there. Thick and made of silver, it was carved with intricate florals and symbols. The small booth you had visited had displayed several different bracelets and bangles for sale, but this one had immediately caught your eye. You had tried to remove it to prevent damage while bathing, but your efforts were in vain. The bangle stubbornly refused to budge over your wrist, even as you lathered your arm with soap. Frustrated, you eventually gave up and left it on.

It was a little strange, earlier when you had tried it on. It had slipped so easily onto your arm and over your wrist. You trailed your finger over the silver, thinking about the old man who had sold it to you. Considering it was real silver, you hadn't paid that much for it. It was beautiful, fit you perfectly, and apparently, you were stuck with it for a while. Another sigh left your lips as you knew you would soon have to get yourself up and start washing. So, you did just that. You washed your hair and body, choosing a pleasant-smelling soap, and then got out of the bath. You wrapped your body and hair in towels, taking your time to do some self-care.

An hour later, you walked into your bedroom, wanting to get your nightgown. However, it was incredibly cold in your bedroom. You shivered and turned around to see if your window had been left open. You almost jumped back when you spotted the...person lying atop your covers. The person stared up at you, but before you could scream or do anything, you saw it. The person had horns, long white horns, and...a tail. You blinked, gaped at the person who smiled at you and revealed their sharp teeth. You finally managed to say, "What are you doing here!? Who are you!?" Your voice panicked, and you took a step back when they stood up and walked towards you. "I am your spouse, and you are mine," they almost purred. "What do you mean...Don't come any closer," you said and took a step back. They only smiled at you, ignoring you and taking your hand with the bangle.

“You are wearing my sign, my signet. I am bound to this bracelet and those who wear it shall be my spouse.” They purred and looked down at you. “And you are perfect…” Their red eyes caught your gaze. You were confused. "What? No, it does not work like that. You have no claim.” You quickly answered. Their touch was cool against your skin, and so gentle.

“Am I not pretty enough for you?” They immediately asked, hurt in his voice. Now you felt bad: “You are pretty!” You quickly answered, speaking truth. “B…but you just showed up in my bedroom, you must understand that this is overwhelming.” You said softly, their hand still on your wrist, trailing higher. “I don’t even know your name, or what you are.” You told him, hoping to make him…what did you even want him to do?

“I am Sorelas and I am a servant of the old gods. I was bound to the bracelet by a wizard. He said I will be free when my spouse and I seal our marriage. That my partner and I will be together forever from then on. Of course he tricked me and I was alone for so so so so long…” He answered. “I know your name, I know everything about you…My perfect wife…I was alone for so long.” He purred and stepped closer, allowing him to enter your space. He was hypnotic and smelled like eucalyptus. “And you are so warm…you smell so good…” His hand wandered up to your cheek. “Can’t you feel our bond?” He whispered. Strangely ou felt the bond. “You can feel my feelings and I can feel yours…” Sorelas whispered and suddenly you felt such an intense need. His tail wrapped around your thigh.

A heat developed between your thighs. He hummed: “You can feel it too…help me…” He pleaded, his thumb trailing over your lips. “How?” You asked softly. Sorelas grinned:” May I show you?” You nodded and in a blink of an eye his lips sealed yours. His arms enveloped you and held you as tight as you could. He sighed, kissing you over and over again. “I haven’t felt the touch of another in too long…” His voice was filled with need for closeness and desire.

You were in a haze, it was not like you to just make out with a stranger. But this stranger had horns and apparently the two of you were bound together? You would figure out the rest later, however now you just wanted to make this need disappear that you felt to be filled. You kissed him again, he began to get greedy. His hands began to trail up and down your body, greedy for you.

You pulled him towards your bed and he opened the towel still wrapped around your body. He exclaimed something in a language you did not understand. His gaze was fixed onto your breasts. He touched them gently, eyes wide and he licked his lips. “You were made by my gods, a vessel of beauty, perfect…and mine.” You gasped at his touch and as his tail wrapped around you.His lips met yours as he groped and felt your tits. He massaged them as he enjoyed the feeling of your touch. His length rubbed against your thigh through his loose pants. You wanted to see his body too. Quickly you parted, opening the blouse thing he was wearing, his body now finally exposed to you. He grinned and got rid of his trousers himself. You gasped again when you saw him in his full glory. He chuckled and placed his hand on your cheek: “I am yours, please, touch me. I have not felt anything in the longest time. I am hard for you, my spouse. I am aroused, do you see my precum? It is all your work…Let me please you.” He purred as he pulled you close again. His length rubbed again against your thigh. You nodded and carefully wrapped your hand around his long cock. It was beautiful and you felt that it had ridges. You whimpered at the thought of him entering you. It would rub the perfect places inside of you. Your touch made him gasp and whine.

You grew bolder beginning to stroke his cock, his hand quickly traveled between your thoughts. You saw him slightly trembling, he was so happy to touch you. To feel you. His fingers began to feel up and down your slit. His nimble fingers found your clit, flicking and rubbing it. You bit your lip, your gaze finding his. “Please…” He said again. You nodded, allowing whatever he wanted. Quickly he was over you, aligning his cock with your cunt. His fingers rubbed your clit, making you whimper and moan. His mouth found your nipple, he wanted to please you before claiming you.

Arousal pooled beneath you when you came from just his fingers and his mouth at your nipples. He grinned, taking your slick and coating his cock with it. Sorelas rubbed his tip up and down your sensitive pussy. Slowly he began to enter you, his tail wrapping again around your waist to hold you in place. Finally he was inside you, moaning while he was finally inside you. “Otherworldly…” He whined, he took your hands and put them on his horns. “Hold onto me while I fuck you.” You did that for him, his hand went back to your clit, rubbing it again and making you whimper. Slowly he moved, getting bolder and rougher. He needed you so much, he needed the warmth, the pleasure, the touch. “Yes…yes…xes…” Sorelas whispered at he got closer and closer to his first release in centuries. You held his horns, meeting his hips in the middle. Your second release washed over you and you clenched hard around him. Your…spouse came, loud and moaning in a language you didn’t understand.

He collapsed on top of you, thanking you again in that language. You wrapped your arms around him, a strange need in you to just do that. You wanted to cuddle this strange…whatever he was. He put his full weight on you, relaxing and kissing the skin he could reach.

“Mine…for all eternity…” he whispered in your language and smiled at you.

[cumikering]

Neighbour Ghost x reader 8 (end)

1.6k | fluff The stray and his forever home (part 1)

“Bone apple tea.” You placed the cup of camomile in front of Simon.

“What?”

You pointed at your skull-printed shirt, the apple pie patch on his hoodie and the tea on the table. “Bone. Apple. Tea.”

He’d missed that brilliant smile too much. It was impossible to not want to kiss you. He chuckled as he pulled you to stand between his thighs.

That Sunday with your help, despite the pounding of his head, he packed the rest of his stuff and managed to move out. In the last few days he had before he left, he spent any possible moment with you, mainly eating his favourite Chinese takeout or cuddling on the couch.

Two months later when Simon came back, things crawled to how they were, with him visiting for dinner and leaving before midnight. Eventually, he stayed more and more nights a week, leaving more than a few of his shirts behind.

The divorce was finalised and his childhood home was sold. The city of Manchester didn’t mean gripping the straps of his backpack after school as he walked up the dreaded front steps anymore, nor sleeping restlessly lest someone barged in the door with another bizarre creature. The house was gone, along with the memories that breathed within the walls. He didn’t miss them.

His mum got a flat near Tommy’s and a job at a flower shop in the neighbourhood. ‘Not as nice as working with Ben’, she said. She had to buy her own bread, and none she’d found in the area tasted remotely close to how grand his were. She still cooked too much, but Tommy didn’t mind the extra whenever she dropped by. Little Joe always loved seeing his nana anyway.

Back from his next deployment, Simon held you at the door as he inhaled the warmth he’d missed terribly. After his shower, you showed him his shirts in their own drawer, not jammed between yours anymore. He smiled, pulling you in for a kiss.

In spring, he came with to visit your dad, insisting on wearing one of his dress shirts, even when you assured it was a regular lunch. He stood rigid on the porch, the neck of the wine bottle about to snap in his grip.

Your dad was taking too long. Was he arming himself before opening the door? Should he tackle and disarm him or take the shot like a man? He should have worn a tac vest.

“Si, relax.” You rubbed his back. “You’re already too tall. You’re going to scare my dad.”

Is that not a good thing?

Your dad (obviously unarmed) tried making small talk with him at lunch, but he sucked at it as much as Simon did, leaving you to do almost all the talking among the pauses. You only received short answers from the men who avoided each other’s gazes.

Also, who the bloody hell put the coriander in the chicken stir-fry?!

“Your dad hates me,” Simon declared as he drove home, the phantom taste of soap persisted on his palate despite the hours between.

“He doesn’t, I promise. He doesn’t even really like Chinese, but picked the place because I told him how much you love it. He really tried, but just doesn’t talk much with new people.” You stifled a laugh. “You should have cracked a few jokes.”

He gave you a deadpan look. “When we get home, I’m going to tickle you until you pass out.”

Home.

You’d made your flat Simon’s home too. You cleared another drawer for him, and another, and another, even when he didn’t have so many possessions. But you let him expand and take up the space he needed. He reordered a set of his ID discs for you to keep on your nightstand.

Things were… easy. Simple, like getting out of bed a little later on weekends. With his nose buried in your hair, arm around your waist pulling you flush to his chest, he held you in silence from dawn until you woke. Listening to your quiet breathing filled his chest heavy with warmth.

You’d asked multiple times if it bored him to be doing nothing, as if he didn’t lay prone behind rifle scopes for hours on end for a living. It didn’t, because being in your presence wasn’t nothing. You were real, and you were his.

You woke with a stir, a smile gracing your lips when you realised he was with you before your eyes opened.

“Good morning, my love.” He slipped the strap of your tank top off before peppering kisses on the nape of your neck down your exposed shoulder.

“Morning, Si.” You reached back to scratch his scalp.

He rolled you onto your back before crawling on top of you, kissing the column on your neck making you giggle with his weekend scruff. He pulled away to admire your eyes, always striking in the warm sun.

“Love looking at you.” You cupped his cheek, tracing the healed cut with your thumb. “You’re so beautiful, Si.”

He leaned in, and you stayed in bed a little longer.

In his shirt, you placed more toasts on the table.

“Two goldfish are in a tank…”

He handed you a buttered toast. “Don’t steal my jokes, luv.”

“It’s too lame to forget.”

“Yeah? ‘Cause I remember you howling at Tesco when I told it.”

“It was your first ever.” You smiled. “My favourite.”

“Why didn’t you tell me I was scary, luv?”

“I’m not sure they teach you to tell the scary bloke he’s scary in self-defence class.” You took a bite of the toast.

“Fair enough.” He shrugged. “Are you out of jam?”

“Forgot to grab some yesterday, but I didn’t forget your limes.”

Simon became a bit of a pie connoisseur. He figured baking was better than sparring with the intention of beating someone up to a pulp. He tried different fruits (even declared himself a pro at peeling) and techniques, and eventually other varieties. That late Saturday morning, it was key lime pie.

“Why’s the cat so small?” you asked as you tied your kitty apron around his waist.

“Why?”

“Because it drank condensed milk.”

He liked that you were becoming more like him. “You too, it seems.”

You mock gasped. “Rude! You know I can take you, Si.”

“Not in a fight.”

You slapped his chest playfully earning a hearty laugh from him.

Volunteering at the soup kitchen became a regular occurrence too, along with his sergeants. Sam ended up dating one of the volunteers’ daughters, the one he was introduced to. Unfortunately, his two other sergeants hadn’t had as much luck on their side. ‘Does your birdie have sisters or friends, sir?’ Eric joked, but it barely masked his hopefulness. You assured you’d ask around if they promised to keep each other safe while deployed.

It got hard at times, when things went sideways and the missions lasted longer, or when he had no way to contact you or wipe the tears off your face.

Somewhere along the way, Simon listed you as his emergency contact. You weren’t supposed to find out this way. Not this soon, not from his captain calling you about how he was unconscious, dying from blood loss from getting his leg slashed.

The first thing he did when he astonishingly woke was to call you. He could ignore the sear on his thigh, or the fact that his eyelids weighed like lead, but not the guilt that sank into the pits of him when you were in a mess of tears.

“I’m so sorry, luv,” he croaked out of his throat that felt like sandpaper. “I mean it. I’ll leave this all behind if that’s what it takes to keep you. You just have to say the word.”

“Si, you don’t... always have to bend yourself backwards for others. I chose you for who you are, and I will keep choosing you, as long as you don’t give up on this. On us.” You sniffled. “Please come home soon. I need you with me.”

Simon was glad you stood by his decision to stay, because that afternoon a year after, as the major pinned on the new insignia onto his uniform, he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face when the mass erupted in applause.

Captain Simon Riley.

Among the crowd, next to Tommy and Beth, her belly carrying his niece, you had your arm around his mum, Joe’s hand in yours. From across the room, your sincere eyes made him feel like a hero, the most desirable man. He knew he wasn’t, but you looked at him like he was sunshine, and maybe, he was to you a little bit.

Nothing changed. Simon was still fatherless, still missed out on the memories a child deserved to have, but was never granted. Still bound to a past that wouldn’t go, but he was more than that.

He thought his dad was the only thing standing in the way of happiness, whatever it meant. He knew now. It wasn’t what he thought he wanted, wasn’t what he imagined, but it was perfect. This was what it was supposed to be like all along.

“For you,” he mouthed.

Simon Riley never wanted to be an oil painting admired by many, but he was, and always had been, a love note sealed with a kiss.

Line art from part 4

Masterlist

Thank you so much for sticking around until the end :) I greatly appreciate the support and kind words this little story has received. Take care!

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@lyenera @kcmizzz @s-rinaldi-18

[saradika]

— only if for a night

[series masterlist]

din djarin x f!reader

Rated E - 6.5k

Tags: spoilers for 03.01, neighbor!din, established past encounter, flirting / mutual yearning, hot springs makeout, soft dom!din, outercourse, fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, dirty talk, PiV

A/N: based on that little line from s03.01 about the hot springs. Many liberties taken with the creed.

When it appears the droid repair will take longer than expected, Din finds himself taking Karga up on the offer for the parcel of land.

And when you go to give your new neighbor a warm welcome - you never imagine that it would be the very man you haven’t been to stop thinking about.

He’d never been all that great at saying no.

It was easy when he was on the job - dealing with strangers. Questions rarely came when the saw him as just a symbol. Something to be feared.

A Mandalorian.

When it was a friend… well, that was a different story. Somehow, Karga had gotten under his skin. Twisting words around until he found himself agreeing to that parcel of land, out by the flats.

His stay was only temporary. That, he made sure of to mention. More than once, each time more firmly.

“Ah, but you always come back.” Karga had smiled, while they overlooked the city, “I know you have your business to attend to.”

Glancing down at Grogu, still spinning in the chair, “But wouldn’t it be nice to have a home to return to? To know you have a place, here?”

“I’ll think about it.” He had hedged, hands braced on his hips.

Somewhere along their walk later - their path had changed. Through the center of town, past the now deconstructed monument.

Before he knew it, he was in the middle of the tidy hut - Grogu wandering through the back door and into the sizable yard, as he found himself signing the deed.

“We’ll worry about the details later.” Karga had winked - and then he was gone.

Leaving Din alone, in his new space. Half-exasperated as he checks through the rooms.

A living space that flows into a small kitchen. Smoothed stone walls, a hallway that leads to a bathroom, with a full-sized sonic. The sharp right curve as the building continues back - a master bedroom taking up the last third of the L-shaped unit.

It might be nice to have a private place to sleep for a few days, while he waited for IG-11 to be repaired. His legs and back aching from sleeping in the starfighter.

And he’s never loved inns. Never trusted them completely - not even on Nevarro.

A small head peeks around the doorway, as he stands in the middle of the bedroom. The cotton curtains fluttering with the breeze, a view of the hot springs and the thick line of trees visible from the open window.

“What do you think, kid?” He finds himself asking.

Grogu coos happily, and his lips curve underneath his helmet.

“Yeah.” He hums. “I think so, too.”

———

“Finally sold that place, next to yours.”

You frown, glancing up from your datapad. Feet kicked up on the desk in your office, catching up on comms.

The news is unexpected, you hadn’t known anyone was looking at the property. Karga hadn’t pressed for you to put out any advertisements in the past couple weeks. Acted like he’s been saving it - but for what, you didn’t know.

“Would say I’m glad, but I was getting used to the private hot springs access.” You smile, removing your feet, pushing yourself up to greet him, “You need me to get the paperwork together?”

“No need, I handled it.”

That makes your eyebrow raise. Karga had certainly done a lot for Nevarro. The green trees outside - the expansion of the city - was more than enough proof.

But you had never seen him handle any of the minute details. Never had been his style.

No, that was your job.

“I’d like you to stop by though.” He says, fingers stroking the white bristles of his beard, “Make sure he’s doing alright. Explain about the expansions, I didn’t get a chance to cover that part.”

“Sure thing.” You nod, already collecting your things, “You know I would anyways, since he’s my neighbor and all.”

But Karga’s focus on this new buyer nudges at your attention - a beat passing, before you add, “Is it someone high profile? Should I know them?”

His answering look is knowing. And cryptic, as only he can be, “Something like that.”

Leaving your office with an amused smile - and you more curious than ever.

———

Your fist raps twice on the closed blast door. A hand smoothing down the front of your tunic, wrinkled with your brisk walk over from the office. The basket tucked under your arm, filled to the brim with goodies hand-picked from "the stash".

A crate stored in one of Karga's many rooms, filled with gifts from shops in town, potential business partners, visiting travellers.

Anything expensive he accepted for himself - the rest you collect, with the dual purpose of handling it for him, and finding a use for the item.

Creating welcome kits for all those who are new to the city, things to make their houses feel more like homes. Blankets to fend off the evening chill. Vouchers for a warm meal at the local cantina. Dried meats and fruits - trinkets for the children if there are any.

Fingers crossed that your new neighbor is someone nice. Not like that Weequay you had roomed next to when you had lived downtown - keeping you up late with their band practice. Chords loudly strum on their hallisket, somehow always off-key. Overly rude, whenever you had gently tried to bring it up.

Back then, you woke with the dawn, due down at the new school just after daybreak. Rough did not even begin to cover it.

Moving out here, the change in your duties, had been nice. Certainly a walk every morning, but the privacy was well appreciated.

Quiet nights after spending the day keeping up with the whirlwind that was Greef Karga. Soaking away the stress in the small clusters of hot springs that make their way along the flats.

No one answers, so you inch around the side of the building to check the back. One of the many bonuses about being this far out - the large yards and extra space. Past the narrow landing pad - the shining chrome ship that rests on it.

Your nose wrinkles at the sleek lines, the overall ostentation.

Stars, if it's another 'Karga'...

Pushing the thought aside as you call out, ahead, "Hello! Anyone home?"

"Back here." A voice replies, sounding muffled.

You’re rounding the corner of the hut, when you freeze. Only the vice-like grip on the handle keeping the basket from tumbling across the stone patio.

Because you do know him.

Intimately.

Though it’s been a while. Over a year, maybe two?

But there was no mistaking the shine of his silver armor. The little friend that’s still by his side.

“Oh.” You greet him, intelligently.

His helmet turns at your voice, his own form going still for a long moment. The child lets out a coo, his small head turning as he leans over the edge of the water, splashing the surface.

“Hi. Karga sent me over. I mean, I would have come anyways.” You clear your throat as you find your voice - hiking a thumb over your shoulder, “Seeing as we’re neighbors, and all.”

“Neighbors.” He repeats, his voice a low monotone.

It’s so strange to hear it again.

You’d spent ages thinking about it. About that night. It wasn’t supposed to be anything more than blowing off steam.

Back then, you had still worked at the school. Filling in as the teaching droid became accustomed to the class - still developing the emotional intelligence part of its AI.

You had been an aide, making sure things ran smoothly. And it had, until those few days that the Child had been in attendance.

It still makes you smile to remember the bits of blue cookie smeared on his face.

That’s when you had met the Mandalorian, picking up his child. And then running into him again, later at the cantina.

Ending up in his ship, even later after that. Staying longer than you meant to, until the indigo sky was streaked with pink and grey.

You still think about the cold bite of his armor against your bare skin. The low rasp of his voice, lips forming around rough words of praise that had burrowed into your brain.

Just one night, but it had stayed in your memory for the hundreds that came after.

“Uh, yes.” You snap back to reality, as you jiggle the basket. Walking over, because it was too late to flee - setting it down on the low stone table.

Your face heats - you're not sure how to word this. Unsure if it was more awkward to get out with it, or pretend like this was the first time you’ve met.

After a moment, you make your decision. Better to just be honest.

Your hand extends, as you give him your name. A small cringe of a smile, as you hedge, "I don't know if you remember-"

His answer cuts you off, as his hand takes yours, "I do."

Oh.

The vocoder makes it impossible to tell the exact tone of his response. If it was a good memory, or if he was disappointed in this strange reunion.

You’re saved from the awkwardness of not knowing, when the child toddles over. A wide grin spreads over your face, plucking a treat out of the basket.

“Just look at you!” Sinking to your knees - you glance up, before handing the piece of candy over, “Is this okay?”

The Mandalorian’s head dips in a nod, a heat in your cheeks as you turn back. Placing it into the little outstretched hands, as you marvel.

“You’ve really grown!”

His ears wiggle, the peek of his teeth as he smiles.

Not bigger, but certainly more confident. A sweetness shining, more certain of the steps he takes. A tightness in your chest, as he shows it to Mando - clutched tight in his fist.

“That’s right.” He replies patiently, “Tell her ‘thank you’, Grogu.”

Grogu makes a sound that could pass as a thanks, making his way to the rock border of the small garden.

Leaving you looking up at the Mandalorian. The angle doing something to you - all that shining armor. You on your knees.

His head, still tilting down. Cocked, your way.

But then, you’re remembering why you’re there. Pushing yourself to your feet, burning with embarrassment.

“Uh, right. The details.” You rush, turning away. Back towards the border of the property, your finger pointing, “The hot springs runs through your back yard and mine. Some huts are lucky enough to have their own.”

A shrug, as you turn back, “But most have to share. It’s great this time of year, it gets chilly at night. He’ll love it.”

Your head tilts towards Grogu, still munching away. Mando nods, slowly walking over to stand beside you, looking out at the natural springs. The thick trees above, making a sort of barrier to the huts behind it.

“Oh, and your house.”

The last detail.

“They’re built so you can add on. It’s a good size for one right now. But if you need more space there’s room on the sides, or add another floor.” You gesture to the spots, so he can picture the expansion.

“Should be pretty easy. You would just tell me or Karga, and there’s a couple droids that have it down to a science.”

His head tilting to look where you point. A beat, before he asks, “Have you added onto yours?”

Your eyes meet his visor, surprised.

Lips pressing together as you think about it, your head shaking. Smiling sheepishly.

“No. Like I said… it’s uh, good for one.”

He hums at that, but doesn’t ask anything else. Nor does he look away, his hands resting on his hips.

A dozen questions on the tip of your tongue. Holding them back because you’re not sure how to ask them. Not wanting the answer to be different from what you’re hoping.

So instead, you just smile.

“The last step is usually a tour, but I’m sure we can skip that part. Wouldn’t want to take up any more of your time.”

There’s a beat, while he seems to think about it. A hesitance, before he nods.

“Right. Thank you, we should be fine.”

Almost a reluctance.

But you’re certain you’re imagining it.

———

It’s lucky that he didn’t take you up on the tour. You barely make the walk back to your house before your comm is beeping - an emergency that has you running back into town.

A no-show from a contractor, for a job that needed to be done today. The afternoon is spent with your sleeves rolled up, helping out yourself, the work bleeding into the evening.

The morning becoming a blur, as you drag yourself home. Just thinking about sinking into the springs for a couple minutes, resting your aching feet.

Grabbing a ration bar as you change into one of your suits, your robe and a towel thrown over your shoulder. Leaving the door open, letting the cool night air into your house as you head towards the back.

Your things dumped on a low wooden bench, as you stretch - arms high above you head. A low, throaty groan as you step into the hot water, finding your favorite nook to rest in.

It’s only then, in the water with the skies above, that you think about the Mandalorian. A thrill at seeing him again, even if it didn’t go anywhere.

With his line of work, you can’t pretend you weren’t worried. Hadn’t been thinking about him, hoping he and his son were alright.

Hoping for other things, as well.

When your eyes finally open - you freeze.

The object of your affections sitting a few yards away from you, supplies spread out on the stone table. In the middle of cleaning a long rifle, a piece of cloth in his hands.

Seemingly frozen as well, his helmet tipped your way. The moment stretching out, until you’re letting out a little “oh”, dipping down into the water.

“Sorry,” You give him a little wave - unsure what else to do, “Didn’t see you out here.”

Moving closer to the edge, your hands bracing on the raised lip, “I can go. Long day, just needed a minute.”

“No.” He shifts then, a gloved hand going flat, “Please, stay.”

You’re pleased. To continue soaking, and to continue taking him in. Your chin resting on the curl of your fingers, watching him work.

It’s quiet - the rustle of the leaves above. A chirp of the crickets, the summer days starting to tip into autumn.

“What happened today?” Mando asks you, your head lifting.

Frowning - the question loaded. Did he mean earlier? Like, when you first rounded the corner into his backyard?

He takes pity on you, “You said today was long.”

“Mmm.” You sigh, now understanding. Biting back a smile, pleased that he’s asking about you, “I guess it wasn’t too bad. Just putting out a few fires for Karga.”

He hums, like he understands your implication.

But then, you’re remembering that he’s friends with him. Your nose crinkles, “Not that I am complaining. He’s done a lot for this city, we’re all grateful.”

“You can be honest with me.” His tone sounds amused, and you relax.

The tools set down, as he moves closer. The slow creak of his armor, the overhead lights glinting as he lower himself to one of the chairs that rest close to the edge.

Close enough that he could step into the water, the steam that rises up in the chilly evening air. His helmet tipping down to where you sit.

Your eyebrow lifts, “You thinking about coming in? I can close my eyes for you.”

Remembering what he said, before. The reason why he stayed wrapped in his armor, his helmet always firmly fixed in place.

His head tilts, considering. A long moment - as you hope - before he answers.

“Not tonight.”

The disappointment pools in your belly - but you move on quickly as he asks, “How long have you been working for him? I didn’t see you at the school.”

He had looked. That moment when he walked through town - later, when they ran into the pirates. A worry, fueling him to act when they had threatened to take that drink in the renovated building, where the old saloon used to dwell.

The disappointment melts into fondness, “A while. Close to a year? It’s fun, he can just be a lot, you know?”

He makes a sound of agreement, knowing full well.

“Very convincing and influential. I find myself doing all kinds of stuff just because he asks,” You laugh, your chin cupped in your hand, “He’s got his eyes on some big prizes. High Magistrate. Mining and trade routes.”

Your gaze drifts, going far away, “It’s great for the city. The expansion, all the money coming in. He loves it. The job, the finery of it all. But, personally… I’m not sure it’s what I want.”

The words trail off, as you get lost.

“What do you want?” His voice brings you back.

You blink, looking up at him, “I just want a place to call my own. Something just for me.”

Head tilting towards you little hut, as you start to feel a little self-conscious, “I’m sure that sounds stupid.”

His helmet stays focused on you, as he answers.

“No. I think I understand.”

———

When it came to this hut, he had floundered. Finding himself agreeing, even though he knew he’d be gone again in days. Now, there’s a question that lingers. Heavy on his mind and heart as the hours bleed into the next.

But this time, he knows what he wants. When the question comes, he’ll have the answer.

The next evening, he’s waiting for you.

Surprising you, seeing him in just the flightsuit, as you exit your hut. Pausing mid-step when you see how he lingers. Self-conscious now, in his own way.

Your question comes, again.

“You coming in?”

This time, he nods. Fingers lingering at the zipper on his chest - the anticipation curling in your stomach as you watch.

His hands going still. Wanting this, but the sting of his betrayal to the creed is still a fresh, aching wound. Letting someone see his face. Even though it was the only way.

You head inclines towards a spot in the back of the springs. Where the trees are thick, blocking out the twinkling stars above.

“I can wait there.” You tell him, “I won’t look.”

It’s the last assurance he needs.

He nods.

Making you way to the back, sinking down into the springs. Nervous and excited and thrilled, as you find the spot - where he joins you soon after.

Helmet still on, you can hear the buzz of his groan as the hot water hits his skin. Easing the aches in his back, from the hours of flying.

It’s a little narrow for two, but you fit together - facing each other, under the trees. Where the night and the shadow of the branches weave together - until you can only see the soft, loose outline of his shape.

You can’t believe he got in. Fingers itching to reach out and touch - but you hold back. Still not knowing how he feels, if he wants the same thing as you.

Instead, you fill the silence with soft questions. About him this time - where he’s been, what’s happened since you last saw him.

Some of the tension easing.

And slowly, he tells you. How they became separated. How he had gotten him back, only for the reunion to be cut short. Never saying how the absence effected him - but after seeing their bond today, you knew it had to be hard.

Finally, about their reunion.

With each story, each confession - you find yourselves moving closer. Inching along the natural stone seating until the feet of space dwindle down to mere inches between you.

You wonder if he can hear your heart. The way it thuds in your chest, as his knee brushes yours.

It’s quiet now, other than the ripple of water as your leg stretches out - foot resting on the outcropping of rock he sits on.

"I'm not staying long. Just a few days." The rasp of his voice breaks the silence. His leg brushes yours again.

A soft warning. Letting you know that this would be like last time.

But it’s not the same. Not really.

Your lips press together - the peek of your tongue as you wet them, "You'll be back. You just bought a house here."

"Yes.” He acknowledges, “But I don't know when-“

“I don’t mind”. Your own confession comes easily, in the dark. Leg shifting until your foot taps against his thigh, against bare skin, "Stop overthinking things. When was the last time you had some fun?"

There’s a low breath at your question, a buzz through his vocoder.

"Not since I last saw you."

You know he doesn't mean yesterday. The tickle in your stomach turns into full-on butterflies as your fingers drift - bridging the small gap between you. Finding his on the stone.

Fingertips dragging across knuckles, the back of his hand. Against smooth, bare skin. Before he moves - his hand curling around your wrist, tugging you forward.

A startled yelp as he hauls you into his lap, your thighs bracketing his - shins pressing into the bench beneath you.

Hands steadying themselves on his broad shoulders. His own slowly sliding over your thighs, up to your hips. Fingers kneading soft flesh as you shift, fitting yourself snug against him.

Feeling him.

The clothed, thick curve that’s pressing against your core. A soft sound in your throat as you rock your hips unconsciously against his cock, finally putting pressure on the spot that has been aching for him.

“Maybe you can remind me how.” He rasps, his own hips tilting up, grinding.

Your laugh is strangled as you meet him. Relief in many more ways than one as you brace your hands on his shoulders. Moving more purposely this time as you roll your hips.

Finding the spot that makes you shudder, nails sinking into his skin. His own hands grasping at you, the sharp hiss of breath through his helmet.

It’s too dark to see more than outlines, but you still find his visor. Trying to imagine where his eyes would be, before yours drop down - admiring the rare glimpse of his neck.

His shoulders, broad and strong. Fingers touching features you can’t make out - the coarse, peppered-grey curls on his chest. Decades of scars, each with a story. His form slightly softened by age, but still moving you effortlessly.

The grip on your hips loosen, a hand drifting up. Leaving droplets of water on your skin as his fingers skim your waist, then higher.

A knuckle brushing your breast, over the top of your suit. Teasing at the edge.

“Gods, yes.” You sigh, leaning back to give him room.

To watch him tug the cloth to the side, then down. Baring a breast, and then the other. Fingers dipping down to the water, dragging a wet thumb over the pebbled peak.

You’re clenching, your pace picking up. Leaning into his touch, grinding your pussy against him.

That low voice of his, encouraging you, “Keep riding me, mesh’la. Fuck, just like that.”

It makes you shudder. Pleasure coils in your head, the build-up making your thoughts hazy. So close to what you need, but not quite enough.

A frustrated whine slides through your teeth, your eyes lifting to his. A hand letting go to dip down, between your thighs - but he catches it with his own.

Bringing it back up to his shoulder, before his dips below the waistband. To where you’re wet, slick with arousal. Whimpering when his fingers circle your clit, making you mindless. Prone to babble, the words hushed in the quiet night.

“Stars, I missed you. Feel just as good as I remember.”

A beat, where his fingers linger. Just for a second, before he’s shifting beneath you - increasing the sweet pressure.

“You thought about this?”

Your eyelids flutter closed, your chest crushed against his. Feeling the slick slide of his fingers, exactly the touch you needed.

“Mhm. All the time.” The confession come easy, drunk as you are on pleasure, “How hard you made me come, how fucking good you are with your fingers.”

The praise sinks into his skin, smoothing over the thin cracks of insecurity. He had thought of you, too. Often.

Fucking his fist to the memory, so like the way your hand worked between your own thighs at night.

Just a night but it had felt like so much more. A connection.

He has you close. It almost feels like time is ticking down, each press of his fingers bringing you towards the end. An arm wraps around you, pinning you against him as you gasp.

More praise falling, just for him.

“Oh, you’re going to make me come. Just like that, please-”

His breath harsh as he concentrates, as your face buried into his neck. Muffling your cry as you’re brought over that edge, going stiff in his arms.

Gasping against his skin, as he coos in your ear. The words muted through the haze, buzzing against your skin. Finding bliss, in this dark corner of the springs.

A long moment of silence, as you find your limbs again.

“Did you mean what you said?” He asks, as your cheek presses against his helmet.

Cool against your hot skin, a soft sigh as you relax against him. Embarrassed, now your head is a little more clear, “What, that I fantasized about you?”

Mando makes a sound, a low laugh, “When you said you’d close your eyes. Did you mean that?”

Your head tilts back, so you can see him. Where his face would be, your palms skimming down his arms, “Yeah, I meant that.”

He stands then, taking you with him - your legs still hooked around his waist. Walking you to the side of the springs before your feet touch down, fingers curling around your wrist - tugging them up until your hand covers your eyes.

“Is your house the same as mine?”

Helping you out of the pool as you answer, his hand around your other wrist, “Mirrored.”

Guiding you to the back door, taking a second in the dark to wipe you both down with the towels you left.

Before he’s pulling you deeper, through the kitchen. Back to your bedroom. It’s still dark when your back is pressing against the matress, his hips between your thighs.

The light is low here. A string of ambient bulbs twinkling above your bed, casting the room in a soft glow. He pauses, as you shift below him.

Looking debauched, where you lay against the mattress. Bare legs, you core just covered by the cloth bottoms. The peek of flushed, tight nipples where he has tugged your top aside.

Practically begging for his mouth, the brush of his tongue.

He had been planning to take you in the darkness. Now, he can’t bear the thought of not being able to watch you fall apart with his own eyes.

“Can I blindfold you?” He husks, fingers trailing up your thighs.

You don’t know why he’s asking, but you agree, “Sure. If that’s what you want.”

“Yes.” The tips changing course, tracing the cut of your swimsuit, along the inside of your thigh, “Do you have something I could use?”

Already, the lack of sight has you on edge in the best way - your legs inching further apart. The hand not covering your eyes reaching up - searching beneath the nest of pillows.

Fingers catching on the elastic of the sleeping mask, as you tug it down. Another gift that Karga had discarded, one that found its way into your pocket, along with the matching silk robe, the jar of bath oils.

He helps you fit it into place, his thumb smoothing over your cheek - as your sight dissolves into true darkness.

Gasping, as he tugs at the ties of your top - baring you. A pneumatic hiss that you don’t recognize - ears straining as something heavy is set down on the side table.

The wet swipe of a tongue against the curve of your breast, flattening over your nipple. Wrapping around to suck, teeth just barely scraping the sensitive bud.

“Fuck.” You hiss, reaching for him. Grasping strong shoulders that hover over you, as his knuckles trap the other, gently pinching.

His helmet. He took it off, for you.

The weight of his actions crash into you, a tightness in your chest that has you gasping. His groan sounding pretty as presses an open-mouth kiss against your sternum, the sound unfiltered.

Another, as he moves down.

“Wanted to fuck you in the hot springs,” Fingers catch on the waistband of your suit bottoms, your hips lifting as he pulls them down, “Tug these off of you, just like this. Would you have let me?”

You moan, unable to help it - your answer eager, “Yes. Anything you want.”

He hums in approval - broad hands nudging under your thighs, another tug as he pulls you towards the edge of your bed.

Even with the mask your eyes close, a thrill of excitement as you wait for the press of his cock. Aching for him to fill you, your mind taking you back to last time.

How he had sunk into you. The sweet stretch until the cool armor on his thighs pressed against your skin from behind.

“But there’s something else I wanted more.” His voice breaks into your thoughts, bringing you back.

And it’s not his cock that kisses your cunt. It’s his lips, pressed against the slick, swollen flesh. Your hips flex as you whimper, his hand sliding to press against your stomach.

Pinning you down, as he groans against your pussy. Tongue pointing to flick against your clit before he pulls back. The scratch of facial hair against your thigh as he presses a kiss there.

“Thought about you, too. Dreamed about tasting your sweet little cunt. Making you come on my tongue.”

His mouth following his words, warm where the rest against your skin. Taking his time as he spreads you open with his fingers. Tongue tracing from the tight bud of your clit, down.

Pressing the tip into you. Tasting your release, your slick arousal, as you reach for him. Fingers sinking into soft curls - another realization, another small detail about him that you tuck inside your heart.

You tug on them as he sighs against you, fucking you with his tongue. Slipping back up to wrap his lips around your clit and suck, while his fingers nudge at you.

Sinking the tip of one inside, teasing. Knuckles deep in your greedy cunt - first one, and then another. A low hum against your slit as you whine. Fingers crooking against the spongey spot that had you keening last time.

The combination is too much. Senses heightened to an extreme - each messy flick and press of his tongue sending sparks down your spine to collect and pool low in your belly.

Hearing each and every groan he makes, the rough timbre of his voice. Your own moans joining his, twisting around each other like your fingers in his curls.

The words panted out, achingly desperate.

“Oh, fuck-”

“Please, right there-”

Each breath shorter than the last. Your hands scrambling, leaving his locks to grip onto the pillow, as your hips flex against his mouth.

His fingers pounding steadily against a spot that makes you see stars. Chin and lips smeared with your slick as he coaxes you over the edge.

“Osik. I can feel you clenching around my fingers, mesh’la.” He groans, eyes fixed on where you take him, the silky shine of his fingers.

Flicking up to your face - wanting to watch you fall apart for him with his own eyes, “Want you to come for me, want to feel you gush on my fingers.”

And with a gasp, you do.

Your senses fading to a buzzing, white noise as your hips lift off the bed. Coming hard, pulsing around thick fingers as he watches, tilting his head to press his tongue against your clit. Feeling you there, each little thud where he’s pressed flat against you.

Leaving you gasping, loose-limbed. The sound turning warm and happy with the elation that spreads, settling over your limbs.

His hand swipes across his chin, as he pushes himself up. Arms wrapping under your thighs again, scooting you back onto the bed.

Achingly hard as he peels off the bottoms he still wears. Slick-stained fingers wrapping around his cock, the rough groan of relief as he jerks from base to flushed tip.

More than pleased by the way he has you smiling. Contented and floating, just from his fingers - the inexperienced swipe of his tongue.

He’d learn, for you. Let your fingers twist in his hair, tug him to the right spot until it’s all that he knows.

For now, he soaks you in. His knees pressing into the bed, hoisting your thighs over them. Angling his cock down, to tap against your pussy - a string of your slick clinging to the tip.

“Fuck, just look at you.”

Feeling it’s wet heat, the way you’re arching into him already. Eyes greedy as he presses into you, watching the tip sink in.

How the tight grip of your cunt chokes him - inching in further, before he’s retreating. Pulling back, sliding the soaked tip across your folds again.

Your teeth grit, your hands searching for him. Curling around his wrists, as his hands hold your hips in place.

“Mando, please. Don’t tease me.”

He sucks in a breath through clenched teeth. Tonight, you’re his. Days of uncertainty - wondering if you had thought of him the way he did of you, culminating in this moment of desire that burns through him.

Not wanting to hear the name that follows him like a shadow.

“Din.” He grits out. Something tight in his chest loosening, “My name. It’s Din Djarin.”

Your lips wrap around the gift, making him throb when you parrot it back to him. That need making itself known, as he sinks into you again.

“Want you to stay it when you come.” His hands yank your hips, as his snap forward. Seating himself fully as you moan - as he buries his cock in you.

Din’s voice sounding tight, as he adds, “You got that?”

“Yes, Din.” You sigh dreamily, clenching around him as he moans.

Letting him set a rhythm that starts slow - lets you feel each inch as he drags himself out, before snapping in. Picking up as you cling to him, shifting until your legs are wrapping around his waist.

Hovering over you, tucking you beneath him as his hips snap against yours. Your hands wandering - sliding across his shoulders. Thumbs sweeping over the hollow of his throat, down through the coarse hair across his chest.

So much skin, bared for you to touch. You want to know every inch. Wish you could see - but you’re not that greedy. Happy to take this reunion for every ounce that it was.

But he leans into it. The warmth of your hand, the way your thighs wrap around him. That stiff hold of his shoulder and back loosening, as he lowers himself further.

Unable to resist the urge to see what it’s like. To press his lips against your cheek, feeling the bite of your fingernails when you sigh in surprise.

The whimper as he moves closer to your mouth, until his lips are ghosting over yours. Your head tilting up to chase him in the dark.

His name, once again.

“Din.”

There’s a snarl that rises in this chest. Muffled by the time it reaches to his throat, as his lips finally press against yours.

Starting slow, like the rut of his hips. Just a soft brush, before he draws back for a breath. Coming back for another, as you sigh and arch into him. Lips parting as his tongue brushes the seam, his hand slipping up to cup the back of your head.

He tastes like you. The sweet tang of your pussy on his tongue. Delving into your mouth as he fucks you, as you can do little more than just cling to him.

Soft moans and the needy press of your mouths layering with the wet sound of your joining. The angle stroking his cock against the spot that his fingers found, stealing your thoughts.

Not even realizing it’s your own voice, the panting “please, please-”. Each breath after a soft “oh” that gets sharper, higher, with each gasp.

“Fuck, that’s it.” The voice in your ear sends a thrill down your spine. Joining that familiar fire that pools in your belly, “You’re taking me so well. Are you going to come for me again?”

His lips press against your throat, where your heart flutters. Feeling the bitten-back whine, as your legs clench around him.

Bracing yourself for the pleasure that’s about to tear through you, the spark that starts down low before it races down your limbs.

“Give me one more, cyar’ika.” He rasps, and you can’t help but obey.

That strung-tight string snaps. His name a sob on your lips as the orgasm crashes over you. A pleased hum against your skin as his thrusts snap harder - the rhythm sloppy as you tremble in his embrace.

Din’s breath is hot against your neck, his forehead pressed to your cheek. Feeling the tight clench of your wet cunt around his cock - his fingers biting into your hip as he seeks his own end.

“Where do you want me?” He grits out, “I’m not going to last, feel so good-”

Your legs tighten around his hips, pushing him deeper. Fingers lacing around his neck, the tip of one finding his curls again.

“Come in me.” You beg - hearing his rough groan at your words, “Still have the implant.”

“Fuck.”

He had felt it, last time. You had guided his fingers to the ridge beneath your skin, in that moment where you waited with baited breath for his cock to fill you.

Emptying himself the first time from behind, bent over some crates in the hull. The second, hours later. On your back, like this - but he had been armored then, your bare skin reflecting off the beskar as he stood between your thighs.

But now, your limbs are tangled. The heel of a foot pressed against his ass, his body rolling against yours. The messy press of his mouth against your skin.

A hiss, as he inhales.

Hands gripping onto you, as that breath is released in a rough groan, your own name on his lips. A sharp thrust as he buries himself deep, a shallow rock of his hips with each flex of his cock as he spills into you. The warmth flooding your walls, as he moves until you’ve taken all of him.

Until the aching, burning need is extinguished - as he relaxes like you did. Your nails scratching up his back and into his hair, a rumble of contentment as he shifts onto his side, and then back, pulling you with him.

Reaching down with one hand to pull the plug of the lights from the wall, blanketing the room in darkness. Fingers gentle as he lifts the mask. The brush of his lips against your eyelids.

Your cheek pressing against his chest, as his fingers trace patterns on your skin.

“I’m really happy I got to see you.” You yawn - blissfully limp, as you curl against him, “Even if you have to go.”

Sighing, as you arm drapes across his waist, “I’ll keep an eye on things until you come home.”

Home.

He can't pretend he hasn't already thought about it. What you had told him earlier, about these huts.

How the structures could change, evolve.

Spanning the space between your properties - expanding the walls and connecting hallways until the two houses become one. Truly a haven, a place where he could see himself growing old.

Not now, but... maybe someday.

Once this final quest was completed. Once he was redeemed. A true Mandalorian, once more.

But, that would be some time away. He has no idea what he will find on Mandalore. How long it will take to find Sundari, uncover the mines. It was no use to dwell on that future, when everything was uncertain.

So, instead… he finds himself silently hoping that the Anzellans will take just a little while longer.

Thanks for reading! Would love to know what you think 💖

mesh’la - beautiful / osik - shit / cyar’ika - sweetheart

[octuscle]

Teens work out free all Summer

Jakob was done. The day had been exhausting. And somehow he couldn't cope with two or three exhausting days in a row as well as he used to. He was now 27 years old, his 28th birthday was only a few weeks away and the days when Jakob had been described as sporty were long gone. Even during his studies, he had spent less time at the gym or in the swimming pool than when he was at school and the slight tummy bulge with which he had accepted his master's degree and started his career had developed into a veritable paunch. Climbing stairs? Only in an emergency… Walking or cycling? What were cabs for… Jakob was done and he knew why.

It was trade fair in the city. The last one before the summer break. The hotels were full, you couldn't get a table in the restaurants and there were no cabs to be had either. So Jacob bit the bullet and walked to the nearest bus stop. Sweat was pouring down his forehead. And there he saw this sign: “Teens Workout Free All Summer”. Sure, he was no longer a teen. But he also earned enough money to afford a gym. All he had to do was sign up. Just for the summer. Since he didn't have any school-age children, he didn't have his vacation until mid-September. What was the worst that could happen? He could lose a few kilos and cut a better figure in the late summer sun on the Croatian coast. “I'll sign up first thing tomorrow,” Jacob thought to himself. And then it hit him. "Shit, don't keep putting it off, I'll sign up now. Now and immediately. And if they have a store for gym gear, I'll start training today."

It was hot in the gym. The place was obviously not air-conditioned. It smelled of sweat and sneakers. It smelled like the changing rooms in the schools gym earlier. Loud music blared from the speakers. The reception and training area merged seamlessly. The monotonous sound of people on treadmills and the groaning of people lifting iron was mixed into the booming music, occasionally interrupted by the sound of dumbbells falling into the rack or onto the floor. This was certainly not the kind of gym Jacob wanted to work out in. He was almost on his way out again when the lad behind the counter approached him. “Hi bro! Are you here for our summer offer?” Jacob said that he was here for a membership, yes. But not for the offer. ‘Why not, bro? My name is Liam, by the way. And you are?’ ‘Jacob,’ Jacob introduced himself. ‘Cool thing, bro! Don't worry, we'll get you in shape here.’ Jacob thought for a moment. Of course he would make a fool of himself here among all the beefcakes, but better here in front of people he didn't know than in some stylish gym where customers, colleagues or neighbors would make fun of him.

Liam was already hammering away at his keyboard. “So, your name is Jake. What's next?” “Jacob,” Jacob corrected. “Goldsmith” “Smith, Jake Smith. Your birthday?” Jacob wanted to correct Liam first, but maybe a pseudonym wasn't wrong. “August 12, 1996.” “Bro, I'll put in August 12, 2006,” Liam said with a wink. “Nobody checks here anyway. And I get a commission when I sign contracts for the summer offer.” Address? Jacob was just about to give his address when he thought to himself that he was here anonymously or under a pseudonym. So he gave the address of his parents' house, where they had all lived when he was at school. His parents had sold everything last year and moved to Provence, but as Liam said, no one would probably check it. “Please be so kind,” said Liam. Jacob looked surprised at a flash of light. And a few seconds later, a plastic card came out of the printer. His membership card, his ticket back to a life where climbing stairs wouldn't lead to panting and sweating. “Because it's your birthday in the summer, you get a water bottle and the water flat rate. Do you also want the protein shake flat rate? It's on special offer today. 20 pounds a month, 50 pounds for June, July and August together.” Jacob nodded and asked if he could also buy something to wear here. “That's my lad,” said Liam with a grin. “Get started right away, no hesitation, very good. No, you can't buy anything, but there's a treasure trove at the back. Just take what you need. I'll let Colin know in the meantime, he can show you around and show you everything.

Slightly disgusted, Jacob went to the corner with the lost-and-found treasure trove. It was obviously a source of odour. But it was surprisingly neat. Shoes, shorts, tank tops… Everything was neatly sorted by size. Only the socks were in a big box. It took Jacob a few minutes to find a pair. And while he was looking, he heard a throat clearing behind him. “So you're Jake, the new guy?” Jacob turned around, startled. Behind him stood a mountain of a man. Probably his age. Maybe a few years older. But someone who had never skipped chest or leg days. Never in his life. He obviously didn't take his personal hygiene that seriously. Colin was smelly. Jacob pulled himself together. “Jake, nice to meet you. You must be Colin.” “You can be sure of that! And now stop making a fashion show out of it.” Colin unerringly grabbed a tank top, shorts, shoes and even a matching pair of socks. And a jockstrap. He stuffed everything into a rucksack. Jacob shuddered. “The changing room is over there. Don't look for girls and boys, it's a lads only place here. Hurry up, we should allow two and a half hours for a training session." Jacob was beginning to feel sure he had made a mistake. Okay, at worst he had lost 50 pounds… But it was a mistake.

There were no cubicles in the changing room, no lockers. Things went on open racks. Shoes and bags on benches or on the floor. There was no one around. Only by the sinks was a lad, maybe 16 years old, showing off his enviably fit body in front of the mirror. Jacob sighed. He'd looked something like that when he was 16. He undressed and put on the unwashed clothes that Colin had stuffed into his bag. He looked in the mirror. He looked silly. He was wearing the washed-out clothes of an obviously much more muscular man… The shorts were too tight. The tank top too loose. The socks had holes in them. But at least the shoes fitted. Jacob sighed. And the torture on the dumbbells began.

Colin hadn't given him puppy protection. Colin had worked out with him as if they were training partners. Of course, he had reduced the weights for Jacob. But when Jacob couldn't do any more, he had shouted at him. Four more, three more, two more… Somehow Jacob had always managed the last repetition. The two of them were the last ones in the gym. Liam had already called it a day. Colin gave Jacob a fist bump. “Good training, mate! You've got bite and talent. You'll be something!“ Jacob would have blushed if his head hadn't been glowing anyway. ‘By the way,’ said Colin. ‘Hot water is turned off after 10 p.m. You can take a cold shower. Or…’ ‘I'll take the ’or',” Jacob chastised and grinned. He went into the changing room and packed his clothes from the office into his rucksack. He walked to the bus stop with the last of his strength. The city was full of fairgoers. Some raised their eyebrows in pique. Yes, he had to stink. But he had to get home now. He didn't care about anything else.

When the alarm clock woke him up at 06:00, he felt like everything was gone. He had fallen asleep sitting on his bed. He had just managed to undress. His office clothes were still in his rucksack. His sports kit was scattered on the floor. And he had slept half-sitting, half-asleep on his bed. In a puddle of sperm. Because he had obviously had at least one wet dream. And his morning wood was already standing at attention again. Jacob started to jerk himself off. Damn, did his cock feel good. Jacob smelled his own cold sweat. He smelled male. And he had a hard-on. He had smegma under his foreskin. Just like when he wasn't so serious about personal hygiene at school. He smelled his hand. Damn, that smelled like youth and manhood… And at that moment he came. He cummed all the way up to his chin, even though he had obviously emptied his balls at least once tonight. Shit, he thought to himself, breathing heavily… The training is paying off. As exhausted as I am, I'm more agile than I've been at any point in the last ten years.

Jacob went into the kitchen and stirred protein powder into his cottage cheese. He didn't question where the protein powder and cottage cheese came from. He drank two bottles of water because he felt completely dehydrated. He wolfed down his breakfast and made himself five more scrambled eggs. And another protein shake. Shit, he was starving. And late. He jumped into the shower. He didn't take a really thorough shower. He didn't shave either. He emptied out his rucksack on the floor and stuffed yesterday's clothes, which were still damp with sweat, into it. His bus was leaving in ten minutes. He had to walk. Cardio was never his thing. He was more of a weightlifting man.

He got lots of compliments in the office. He was told he looked fresh. He was told he'd lost weight. He looked younger. But he also got a few unpleasant questions. What was so smelly here. The old rucksack was standing next to his desk. And it stank. Jacob simply ignored the questions about the rucksack. He felt fit and full of energy. For lunch, he had a salad with three turkey breasts. His colleagues looked at him questioningly. “Mass phase,” he said apologetically, chewing with his mouth full.

Today was leg day. Colin had told him that he should allow three hours for warming up, stretching and maybe a bit of fitness training if he was serious. And Jacob was serious. He finished his work very punctually. Unusual for someone who was always the last one. Yes, he was on the verge of promotion, but his fitness was important to him. As soon as he entered, he pulled the access card out of his wallet. He looked at the photo with a grin. He was 23 on it, that was two years ago. What a slim man he had been then… Liam greeted him with a fist bump. Colin could be heard grunting from the chest press throughout the hall. Jacob greeted his bros as he entered the changing room. It was busy. Of course, most of the people here were still at university, unemployed or tradesmen who had already started work at 06:00 in the morning. There were few armchair farters like him here. But that didn't matter to him. Today, all that mattered was the weight on the leg press. And how much protein he could swallow from his flat rate. Protein and the leg press was a toxic combination. But protein farts didn't bother anyone here. They were part of the workout. And when he finally left the gym with Colin at around 11 p.m., there were a lot of protein farts in the air. Neither Colin nor Jacob had been bothered by that during the final cardio workout. Damn it, how could a beefcake like Colin be so limber!

His morning routine was well established. Alarm clock at 05:30. Sit-ups and press-ups. Breakfast, running gear on, run to the office, shower there, and be at his desk by 08:00. Sitting was the new smoking, he hated it. Jake was 22, he had just finished his bachelor's degree and as a trainee he couldn't afford to make any mistakes. His colleagues knew after a few days that he was a fitness junkie. The carefully labeled Tupperware containers spoke for themselves. Jake had to eat something every two hours. His trainer had told him to. Jake had been an ambitious bodybuilder since the age of 16. His tight ass and broad shoulders showed this even when he was wearing a suit. And many of his female colleagues and even some of his male colleagues appreciated the fact that Jake always wore tight and crisp-fitting suits.

This afternoon was going to be an ordeal for Jake. He had promised Liam that he would take over the shift from 21:00. If he wanted to work out properly before then, he had to get off work at 5:00 p.m., 5:30 p.m. at the latest. The meeting went on and on. Jake looked nervously at his mobile again and again. At 5:15 p.m., over an hour later than planned, it was finally over. Jake breathed a sigh of relief. And then his boss asked Jake and two colleagues to stay for the minutes and the upcoming tasks. FUCK! He should have accepted Colin's offer and taken over the management of the gym after graduation. But his tutor at university had convinced him that auditing was his future. Holy shit. Now he'd have to skip cardio training.

05:30. Damn, that was early. But Paul, his roommate, was obviously already awake and seemed to be making breakfast in the kitchen. Yes, Jake was actually disciplined. Otherwise you didn't stand a chance when studying at the sports college. But at least sleep until 06:00 for once, he thought to himself… While he did his burpees to wake up. Paul was Liam's little brother. The two had met at the gym last summer. And Liam and Paul had convinced Jake to study sports economics. He had never regretted his decision. If only because sharing a flat with Paul was a cool thing. The two of them constantly motivated each other. And they also fucked each other from time to time. Hey, tighter asses were hard to find on the whole campus! Today was mostly sports on the timetable. Just one statistics lecture. It wasn't worth changing for that. Jake enjoyed riding his road bike to campus in just shorts and a cut-off tank top. And if the clothes weren't freshly washed, they were at least aired out by the breeze. Of course, the business students sitting in the statistics lecture would get upset about the smelly sports economists again. But hey, Jake already knew the game. It wouldn't be the first time one of these Oxford-shirt-wearing snobs would follow him to the toilet after the lecture and lick his hairy armpits. And it wouldn't be the first time he'd take someone home for a shag or join the gym as a new member. The first was fun, the second earned him a small commission.

“Jake, my darling! It's time to get up!” His mother looked into Jake's teenage room. His bed had already been made. Jake stood behind his mother in sweaty running clothes and quietly went “Boo!” His mother winced. Jake deliberately hugged her tightly so that his sweat made her nightgown damp. “Honey, when did you get up? It's the middle of the night!” Jake replied that he still had body fat to lose before his first amateur competition this weekend. He pulled off his wet running jersey and did a double bicep pose. “Jake, more important than losing body fat would be a shower.” his mother laughed. “Fuck, mom, I'm late. And by the time I've ridden my bike to school, I'll be sweaty again anyway.” “Don't talk back, otherwise there'll be no breakfast.” The threat worked. Jake reluctantly trotted into the shower and his mother prepared his ten-egg omelette.

A poster announcing the national bodybuilding championship hung above the reception desk. With local hero Jake Smith as the favorite in the juniors. You could find those posters everywhere in the neighbourhood. Jake was somehow a local hero. Liam greeted the studio's up-and-coming star with a fist bump. Male rituals. Jake enjoyed that. He wasn't turning 18 for a few days, but here he felt like a full-fledged man. Liam said that ten new members had signed up to the teen-working-out-for-free-in-the-summer promotion last week alone. And eight said they had come to the gym because of Jake's fitness channel. Jake should get in touch with Colin and there would be a special bonus. Hehehe, thought Jake. That could be an extra 50 pounds. Or a shot of extra protein from Colin's cock. With a bit of luck, both. But Jake wasn't greedy. Either would be enough for him.

Inspiration by @olivierlefou, pic by @ki-kink

[transformation4life]

At Masters Side

Mark wasn't one for superstition, but ever since a few weeks ago everything has felt like its changed. When you live in a random town you expect not much else to happen except... that's now how it's been. Over the past weeks, people have gone missing. No trace of their existence anywhere. It's caused quite a stir in town. Conveniently... right when these disappearances started going rampant a strange antique store opened up in the town square. People were quick to assume it was the store's doing but no traces of any victims were found in the establishment so the police had no grounds to do anything and the shop stayed open. And that's where we find Mark, currently outside the store. Hoping for a lead. He may not be in any police force let alone a detective but his best friend Kody was one of the missing victims and he wanted answers. "Here goes nothing..." The sounds of a bell rang as Mark entered. Looking around, he was the only one in the store at the moment. Looking further down he sees an old man brushing the floor with a broom. That must be the owner, Mark thought. The owner looked up from the floor and made eye contact with Mark. Mark waved and then walked off. The owner made no attempt to make contact. The store was a lot bigger than it looked from the outside. Shelves lined the store and it was very easy to get lost. Mark looked around for any clues or even a little bit of a suspicious and found nothing. Very demotivating, but he needs to do this for Kody! As Mark walked over to the next aisle he bumped into a box on the floor and it tipped over with something falling out of a box. Mark not wanting to be mean picked it up.

It was... a mask with a strange symbol on it. And a crack?

The eye felt like it was piercing into Mark's soul and he got chills almost immediately. "You know... a mask like that one got sold just a couple weeks ago" The owner suddenly appeared behind Mark. "Gah! D-Don't scare me like that sir... please..." Mark said.

"Ah sorry... I tend to do that sometimes. My apologies."

"I-It's okay... But anyway. You said a similar mask was bought recently" The owner nods.

"I think the guy who bought it looked like someone your age... They had blond hair and brown eyes..."

The description hit Mark like a truck. That was Kody's hair and eye color! A clue!

"R-Really? I see..." "Yeah... you know how it is. I'll leave you alone now. I'll be at the cash register if you need me..." The owner slowly walks away leaving Mark alone with him and the mask. Mark looked back at the mask. The piercing gaze still there. It almost felt like... it was telling Mark something. "Wear me...." Mark looked around. Who said that?

"Don the mask... You will find who you seek..." This time it was very clear. A sudden urge to wear the mask overcame Mark with a unstoppable force. He couldn't fight it.

"I'll find who I'll seek... we'll see." Mark put the mask on and with that his fate was sealed. The eye on the mask started to glow a bright red as Mark got a massive headache causing him to clench his head in pain. Red fabric appeared from thin air and covered Mark's head and neck. Somehow Mark could still breathe and even see. The real changes were about to begin however.

Mark's body started sweating like crazy. Like years of workouts and training from... somewhere were being done in a flash. This did cause a physical change in Mark however. Mark's thin frame began widening as it packed on muscle. Mark's flat chest becoming much thick with wide and beefy pecs alongside an impressive set of abs. Mark's arms grew in massive size becoming like thick trunks of a tree as his hands grew with them becoming strong and calloused. The once small back Mark had widened like a long treasure map. Thick meaty legs were becoming evident on Mark's frame as he had massive thighs and musculature and a new bigger foot size. Mark's rear also gained some extra bounce and size to them. The final physical transformation was Mark's height skyrocketing to at least 10 feet tall. And now came the new clothes. fabric in various shades of red and black wrapped itself around Mark. It was skin tight meaning all of Mark's new muscles were very visible. A black harness fell from above and fitted itself around Mark's chest. Two eye shaped pauldrons popped onto Mark's shoulders. A belt adorned with the same eye shapes as the pauldrons wrapped itself around Mark's wide waist. Dark red arm and leg guards appeared on Mark's arms and legs, small blades emanating from them. A red and yellow collar prompted up, circling Mark's thick neck. The final change was an exotic headpiece. Two "hairs" splitting out tied together with a white band. The physical transformation was complete.

Mark's headache ended and he became aware of his surroundings again, immediately realizing how much taller he'd become. "What the fuck- oh! M-My voice it's so much more... deeper." Mark then looked below him, realizing his new form. "How did that mask... do this? I have to take this off!" But alas Mark couldn't remove the mask. "God fucking damnit... I can't go out in public like this... What am I supposed to... " This was when Mark realized how big his muscles were. Mark always loved big muscles and even though the transformation was not something he wanted, the muscles were very appreciated. Mark flexed a bit to no one in particular. God he felt amazing when he thought about it. He could get used to this Mark thought, but he had to leave this place without arousing any suspicion. He walked just a bit before knocking something over. It was some sort of device similar to a tablet. "Shit, he's gonna notice me... wait what's going on-" Mark was enveloped in a blue light and whisked away to a place unknown.

An unknown amount of time passed before Mark woke up from unconsciousness. He looked around his sorroundings. This place was not anything he's even seen before! The statues had eyes similar to the mask that caused all this so he knew they were correlated.

"Sooga? Is that you?" A voice rang out. Sooga? Someone starting dashing and waddling towards Mark. The man worse similar garb to the current Mark and also a very strong and prominent gut.

"Who are you? Where am I?" Mark immediately retorted. "Come on buddy, don't play dumb with me! I've been lookin' everywhere for ya!"

"No offense sir, but I don't remember a thing. I was at this store and I turned into... this."

"Huh... really? Strange... I had a dream where something similar happened to me! We're dream buddies now Sooga!" "My name isn't Sooga! It's.... uh..." Mark completely blanked on his name. He should know this right! He was just in that store with that weird old man and he... ugh... who was he?

"Oh I see, having one of those sets of deja vu eh? Don't worry I went through something similar recently too. My soldiers helped me remember real quick." Something similar... Wait is that..? "Let me get you up to speed. You're the loyal right hand man of me, Master Kohga and your name is Sooga! Master of the blades which you don't have on you for some reason and a real beefcake!" Kohga's words flickered something in Mark. What Kohga- no... what his master said was true. How could he forget. How could he forget the day he was saved by him with a mighty banana. The years of rigorous training he had gone through and taught to become what he is today. The conviction of being Master Kohga's right hand man was strong. "Master Kohga! My apologies for ever forgetting about you and the clan." Sooga immediately kneeled. "Now now Sooga it's okay. I can tell you still are loyal to me! Let's get some bananas and plan our next move! Kohga turned around, on his way to the precious banana Yiga Clan hoard. Sooga was not far behind, after all he was always at his master's side.

[sunflowervoltwentyeight]

Hello! This is a fic rec of my all-time favorite fics. These fics have really stuck with me over the years, and I've read many of them multiple times. This is an ongoing fic rec, that I will continue to update. These fics are organized by word count from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!

Of Mates and Men by bananaheathen / @bananaheathen (630k)

In which, Louis and Harry meet as best men for their best friends' wedding... well... sort of.

Or, the one where Harry's just moved back from New York and Louis doesn't believe in romance.

Or, I guess... the one where Zayn and Liam are getting married.

Hiding Place by orphan_account (365k)

Louis never wanted a soulmate, didn’t really care for the whole Bonding thing at all, really. Enter Harry Styles, who’s wanted to be Bonded for as long as he could remember. With one fateful meeting in an X Factor bathroom, Louis gets a dagger on his arm and the realization that just because Harry is his soulmate doesn’t mean it’s mutual.

From the X Factor house to Madison Square Garden, from the Fountain Studios stage to stadiums across the world, Louis has to learn to love without losing himself completely, because someday his best friend will Bond to someone and replace Louis as the center of his universe. Meanwhile, Harry begins to think that maybe fate doesn’t actually know what it’s doing after all, because his other half has clearly been right in front of him the whole time. All he has to do now is convince Louis to give them a chance.

Or, the canon compliant Harry and Louis love story from the very beginning, where the only difference is that the love between them is literally written on their skin, and there’s only so much they can hide.

You Can Hear It In The Silence by imogenelee / @imogenleefic (234k)

When Harry Styles was accepted into a post-grad degree, he knew he could no longer afford his flat, leaving him with three options: 1) Move back into student halls. 2) Become homeless. 3) Move in with his best (and only) friend, Niall, and three of Niall's other mates. He went with the third option. But it was a close race. Shame one of his roommates reminded him why he only has one friend. If there is one thing Louis Tomlinson can't stand, it's pretentious tossers, having grown up around enough of them. If there is one thing he can't live without, it would be his friends. So he was proper thrilled to move in with his best mates and a couple of other lads. That was until he discovered one of them was the archetype for a pretentious tosser.

In the interest of seeing out the twelve-month lease without killing each other, they both try (debatable) to get along despite believing they are opposite in almost every conceivable way, each having the communication skills of a cucumber, and secrets that have no business be kept secret.

One More Time Again by orphan_account (232k)

Harry looks down to where Louis is cradling his hand between his own. Louis' hands are slender, the bones delicate, the nails bitten short. The 2-8 on the backs of his fingers is gone, but the faded scar from a skateboarding mishap in Year 7 is still there.

Harry's hand is awkward, knobby-boned and naked, no rings, no tattoos. It's too big for his wrist and his wrist too big for his arm. Yet it still somehow fits in Louis' in the painfully perfect way it always did.

He blinks back the sting in his eyes.

On the morning of his second sold-out performance at Madison Square Garden, Harry wakes up to find that he's sixteen years old, on The X Factor, and that he has a chance to make things right.

A canon-compliant fix-it fic (sort of).

Stranger Stars by shaylea (212k)

Five years ago, Africa offered a grieving Louis Tomlinson an escape from an England he couldn't tolerate. Now it's become home as he leads overland tours across the continent with his best friend and driver Zayn Malik. What's meant to be just another ordinary six-week trip from Cape Town to Nairobi turns into anything but, when future lawyer/current photographer and songwriter Harry Styles and his friends join Louis' latest set of passengers.

Given A Chance by fabby / @fabby1d (173k)

Five years after One Direction took their last tour, the last thing Louis Tomlinson ever expected to happen while on a tea run at the local Piggly Wiggly was to run into his ex-boyfriend and ex-bandmate Harry Styles.

The odds of them ever running into each other again had to be super slim, right?

Wrong.

What happens when you mix ex-boyfriends with a large serving of Small Town America? Will Louis and Harry be able to set aside their differences, or will Louis be able to stay breezy as fuck in the wake of Harry’s arrival?

(or, the one where Louis and Harry run into each other five years after One Direction ends and learn how to love each other again. Featuring: Reggie as the overweight labrador, Niall as Louis’ last grip on reality, and Nowheresville, North Carolina as the setting for Louis’ worst nightmare to come true.)

The Wonderlands by stylinsoncity /  @aliensingucci (150k)

"Somewhere between chaos and control — these are the wonderlands."

Harry's daughter, Andy, is signed to Louis' girl band. Her path to success is marked by competition, chaos, and for Harry, a love affair.

As You Are by Zarah5 (139k)

AU. Five years after The X Factor launched his career as a radio host and songwriter, Louis Tomlinson returns as a judge. Falling for a contestant is the last thing he needs. It's also against his contract.

The only reason Harry auditions for The X Factor is because his best mate signed the two of them up as some kind of joke. Harry doesn't get the big deal—not until he's faced with this season's judges and realises that one of them used to be his desperate, impossible teenage crush.

Unbelievers by isthatyoularry / @isthatyoularry (136k)

It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

Empty Skies  by green_feelings / @greenfeelings (134k)

For three years, Harry has been running from his past. Now, he is moving to London and pledges to fulfil his only dream – making it big in the music industry. Not everyone has a place, though, and the competition is tough. As is his past catching up on him.Louis is part of the biggest boy band of the world, and getting there had meant a lot of hard work, as well as sacrificing parts of his heart and soul. He’s still happy. Maybe not as happy as he could be, but who is he to complain?

Let's Fall in Love in a Place You Want to Stay by embro (134k)

A George of the Jungle / Tarzan AU where Louis is a model who meets Wild Man Harry in the Congo. He was raised by apes and barely speaks a word of English and turns Louis' life upside down.

Love Is A Rebellious Bird by 100percentsassy, Gloria_Andrews / @gloriaandrews (134k)

AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

Don't hum Bolero.

Oxford AU Series by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci (130k)

Come As You Are  (77k) “I think it could be like this all the time,” Harry says. “I know it doesn’t make sense but I think you should consider it. I could make you happy if you let me.” louis is a professor of literature at oxford and harry is his newest and most eager protege. both are caught in a story about forbidden love, loss and second chances, in which one is on the brink of heartbreak and the other comes along when he's needed most. Overwhelmingly You (47k) more reflections post-oxford. Notes on Oxford (5k) glimpses at life before, during and beyond oxford, in no particular order

Wild Love bypurpledaisy / @harrydaisy (130k)

“Good,” Julia says, clearly pleased to have them both uncomfortable and unable to look at each other. “Now, I only have one more question before you can go. What are you planning to do when this experiment ruins your friendship?”

“We said we’d stay friends no matter what,” Harry says smoothly, his chin lifting in defense.

“That was our one thing going into it,” Louis agrees. “Stay friends no matter what.”

Julia raises a perfectly manicured brow, “That’s all fine and good. But I hope you realize your emotions aren’t going to realize this is an experiment in the end. If one of you falls for the other and finds out those feelings are not reciprocated, you’re not going to be able to laugh it off as a social experiment. I’m not saying you shouldn’t do this, I’m just hoping you’ve considered all of the possible outcomes.”

- AU: Two best friends try to date each other for forty days. It’s supposed to be fun until emotions make it complicated.

After All These Years byLifeInAColorWheel (127k)

It’s been seven years since One Direction went on hiatus and it’s been eight years since Louis and Harry broke up. They’ve been strangers to one another since then.

But, over the course of a weeklong boys’ trip, history between Harry and Louis resurfaces.

Or,

The one when Louis and Harry don’t talk, connect again years later, and reflect on why their love collapsed.

Wild and Unruly by 100percentsassy, Gloria_Andrews / @gloriaandrews (123k)

Harry is a cowboy sitting on the biggest oil reservoir in Wyoming, and Louis is the paralegal assigned to pressure him into selling his land.

I'll Fly Away by juliusschmidt / @juliusschmidt (122k)

Harry and Louis grew up together in Lake County, Harry with his mom and stepdad in a tiny cottage on Edward’s Lake and Louis in his family’s farmhouse a few minutes down the road. But after high school, Louis stuck around and Harry did not; Harry went to Chicago where he found a boyfriend and couple of college degrees. Six years later, Harry ends up back in Edwardsville for the summer and he and Louis fall into old patterns and discover new ones.

ft. One Direction, the local boyband; Horan’s Bar and Grill; families, most especially children and babies; Officer Liam Payne; many local festivals and fireworks displays; and Anne Cox, PFLAG President.

Bitter Tangerine by purpledaisy / @daisyharry (119k)

Maybe it’s Niall, he reasons to calm his storming heart. Maybe he’s not actually gone for the holidays yet, maybe Harry got the dates confused. Slowly, he holds his breath and pushes the kitchen door open. The first thing he sees make him jump, a wooden spoon held out like a sword. Once his brain processes the sight in front of him, it’s less the sword that gets him than who is attached to the wooden spoon.

“Harry,” the swordsmen speaks before Harry can, his voice low and steady though confusion laces each word.

Harry’s breath catches. Every string around his heart, all the protection he spent nine months building, rips out and tears open all at once as he says, “Hi Louis.”

-

AU: Nine months after they break up, a twist of fate brings Harry and Louis back together at Christmas.

Never Be by cherrystreet / @cherrystreet (117k)

Monica: You've got to see her again.Ross: And why do you care so much?Monica: Because! You could get to live out my fantasy!Ross: You had fantasies about Emily?Monica: No! Y’know, the fantasy! Meet someone from a strange land, fall madly in love, and spend the rest of your lives together.  

The one where Harry Styles moves to Connecticut from England for nine months as a part of a study abroad program, and he just so happens to move in with Louis Tomlinson and family.

Burn to Ash by bethaboo (116k)

Harry is sitting there, so fucking casual, and Louis realizes in a split second he was not ready. When Harry walked out in Detroit and never looked back, he was a boy verging on a man, still only twenty years old, but there's a man in his place now. Hard and resolute, yes, but still, for the first time in a long time, Louis can kind of see the old Harry in him. The soft, directness of his gaze, the hesitant smile he gives to Lou, the way he wrings his ridiculously large hands in his lap.

He's a little bit the eager sixteen year old puppy dog again, his innocence and sweetness resurrected miraculously, and Louis freezes in place. He was prepared to face the asshole Harry. He was prepared to meet a whole new Harry.

Louis is not prepared to meet one of the old incarnations of Harry, and it absolutely tears him up.

Or the fic where Harry spirals out of control, the band breaks up, and then he shows back up, five years later.

Mine Would Be You by crinkle-eyed-boo / @crinkle-eyed-boo (114k)

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn’t intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

Tired Tired Sea by mediawhore / @mediawhorefics (113k)

As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

Babydoll Blues by devilinmybrain / @thedevilinmybrain (111k)

Louis is a high profile, filthy rich label executive who has the world at his feet - a music god.. Harry is the sugar baby trying to make a name for himself singing in shady bars and hanging off the arm of Louis' biggest rival. What Louis wants, Louis gets. But what if the game gets too hot and hits a little too close to the heart?

To Haunt a Heart by etherealbliss / @givesuethemoon (110k)

A high-profile double homicide in the quiet, small town of Ashford, WA sends shockwaves through the public. Louis, the lead detective assigned to the case, is headstrong, earnest, and desperate to prove himself. Harry, the widow of one of the victims, is insufferably rich, wears far too many vintage dressing gowns, and is desperate to prove he’s not guilty.

Their desperation unexpectedly blossoms into something beautiful behind closed doors, amidst the ticking time bomb of a slowly unravelling mystery that the two soon find themselves deeply entwined in.

The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by kingsofeverything / @kingsofeverything (103k)

Louis’ life is steady and calm, moored by his marriage, and tied to his hometown, but after a chance encounter with another man, it’ll never be the same.

Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose by certainsadness (103k)

“There’s something so great about watching you interact with art,” Harry said quietly. “Like, when you were giving the tour, you were just so you, and so happy and excited and funny and engrossing. But then when you’re looking at the art, when it’s, like, just for you, you get so quiet and observant.” He pressed a kiss to Louis’s shoulder. “But you still seem so you, and so happy. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you as happy as you’ve been tonight.” He kissed his shoulder again. “As you are right now.” A shiver went up Louis’s back. “I’m happy when I’m with you,” he said.

Or, Louis loved art and Harry was a masterpiece.

Emperor's New Clothes by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships (92K)

The fact that Louis’s most precious belonging was a cat with a face like thunder and an uncanny ability to cover every single inch of Louis’s clothing with cat hair was something that Louis chose not to think about too much.

or: Harry’s a pop star and Louis isn’t, and there’s a non-disclosure agreement where there used to be a relationship.

Behavioural Ecology by turtlekz / @turtlekz (81k)

Louis Tomlinson is a primatologist working with the Jane Goodall Institute for primate conservation; and Harry Styles is the photojournalist sent from National Geographic to write a piece promoting awareness about the endangered species. They meet, and love is never, ever simple, as we know.

Featuring Eli the chimpanzee, bickering humans, storytelling, and five men who come to gain an understanding of what it means to be human; all stationed in the Republic of the Congo.

Do Not Go Gentle by afirethatcannotdie / @afirethatcannotdie (70k)

“This is all a game to you, isn’t it? Well, it’s not for me. This is a real life or death situation,” Louis says, spitting the words at him. “And I just don’t think you’re cut out for it.”

For a moment, they stare at each other in complete silence. Harry can feel his blood thrumming between his ears, can see Louis glaring at him, feels red-hot anger. And then all he feels, oppressively and desperately, is lust.

Suddenly Louis is surging up to him to press his lips against Harry’s. Harry walks the two of them backwards, pressing Louis back against the door. Louis oomphs in surprise and brings his hands under Harry’s scrub top, scratching at his lower back.

“Lock — oh — lock the… fucking door,” Louis mutters.

When Harry Styles starts his first day as a surgical intern, he expects a lot of things: to treat patients, to observe a surgery, to feel a bit overwhelmed. What he definitely doesn't expect, however, is that the handsome guy he kicked out of his bed this morning is also an intern.

A Grey’s Anatomy AU where tensions are high, Harry and Louis are hooking up in secret, and no one has time for love. Or do they?

To the Ends of the Earth by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci (68k)

During a yearlong hiatus, Louis visits Harry at his cabin in Idaho, where long-buried feelings ignite like the fire keeping them warm.

A Yuzu Grows in Brooklyn by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci (66k)

Harry is a recent implant in new york and a young chef opening a restaurant called yuzu. louis, a music teacher and broadway lover, has been around the block for a while. in a city that's so fast-paced, they're slow to catch on to each other.

The Dark and the Dentist by sunshiner / @theprizeofcoolness (66k)

“I know this song,” Louis whispers, and Harry has to lean his ear toward him to pick up what he’s saying. “It was written for people to dance to it. We should be dancing.” We can’t, Harry almost spits, but it’d be stupid of him. Louis knows they can’t. Even if he looks like any regular Parisian in their twenties, and Harry looks like any hipster Parisian in their twenties, they can’t anyway. To be fair, they probably wouldn’t do it even if they were out. But if they were two uni students, both in Paris for an exchange, meeting over fallen books at the library, or because of mutual friends, or watching Monet’s Water Lilies? “How would we dance?” Harry murmurs, mouth almost pressed to Louis’ cheek, so close he can feel his warmth. What a picture they must make, two millionaires freezing in a park and dreaming of a different life.

An account of the events of November 2014. Canon-compliant.

Time Passed by coffinofachimera (66k)

Louis struggles with their relationship as Harry grows into his identity.

Outwit, Outplay, Outlast by dancesongsoul, lookatyourchoices (60k)

“Tommo and Harry are gonna do it. I don’t know when, but they’re gonna do it. They’ve got the mattress, the pillows, everything’s in place, and they’re gonna do it. I really wish those two the best of luck.” –Taylor Swift, "Chapera"

Or a Survivor All-Stars AU in which Harry and Louis are just in this game to win the million dollars, but they end up with something better.

Featuring Harry's yellow swim shorts, Louis in snapbacks, and OT5 shenanigans.

No One Does It Better by nodibs (49k)

Harry’s an alcoholic and Louis is a bartender. The first time they meet isn’t the first time they’ve met.

Sail Away With Me by star_henderson / @star-henderson (47k)

“It’s inhumane putting four blokes in one cabin.” Louis stripped off and climbed up into his top bunk. “And why did we get the smelliest twat on the whole ship and bore of the century?”

Harry shrugged. “We clearly pissed someone off along the way.”

Louis snorted softly. “Who do I have to bend over for to get us an upgrade?”

Harry barked out a laugh. “If only it were that simple.” He rolled his eyes wistfully at Louis.

“The only way I’m going to get a two berth is to throw Payno overboard and be next in line for the deputy cruise director's job.” Louis leaned up on one elbow to look over at Harry. “Would you help me weigh his body down so I don’t go to jail?”

“Only If I can share your cabin.” Harry shuffled about, tucking the duvet between his legs, sweeping his hair up into a bun and securing it in a band. “I’m not being an accessory to murder and then still having to share with them two, no fucking way.”

Or

Louis and Harry are part of the entertainment team on board a luxury cruise liner. They hate sharing their four berth cabin with two other guys and would do anything to get a cabin of their own. One drunken night the solution was simple. They'd just get married...

Be My Little Good Luck Charm by 100percentsassy (34k)

In which Harry is a promising amateur golfer making his debut at the PGA Championship, and Louis is a Sky Sports anchor who would really rather be commentating on footie.

The other boys are around too: caddy!Niall provides victory pints, Liam is Louis's Very Serious co-anchor, and poor Zayn just gets his face drawn on.

Have You Coming Back Again by whoknows (31k)

It’s five o’clock in the morning. Louis has a lecture at half eight. He could be using this time to study or to do his readings or to go to the gym, but - well. He doesn’t have any exams coming up, he’s not going to his seminar today anyway and he hates the gym.

Instead he’s using this time to fuck with Harry Styles’ poor little brain.

Louis jogs across the street and jabs the key into the car door. It opens easily, not that he was expecting anything else. He copied the key for a reason, after all.

He’s got Harry’s schedule memorized, more because the guy keeps following him around than anything, so he doesn’t bother looking around before climbing behind the wheel and setting his bag on the passenger seat. It’s a Monday, which means that Harry doesn’t even get out of bed before noon unless he’s planning on harassing Louis.

Loved By Your Mother by superglass / @gaymoustache (31k)

Harry stretches out like Venus with her lover, growing sleepy in the late afternoon light with a baby growing inside her. Perhaps not literally, not physically. Not exactly.

or

Harry struggles to come to terms with wanting to have children, and what that means for their relationship. Canon compliant, set a few years into the future

[babygirlbenji]

I Still Love You - Mason Mount

A/N: This is a long-awaited part 2 to Last Train To London which you can read here! I worked really hard on it and I hope it lives up to expectations. Enjoy!

Warnings: mild angst, mild swearing, fluff

WC: 2.8k

When your train pulled into London King’s Cross, Ben was there, as promised, to pick you up with a McDonald’s meal. He took you under his wing, and let you stay at his place for the night.

‘Make yourself comfortable, sweets, and please know you can stay here as long as you need.’ You knew you had an offer from Sophia and Kai to crash at their place until you got back on your feet, but you didn’t want to intrude on their space. 

‘I might take you up on that offer, Ben, thank you.’ He showed you around his place, making sure you knew where everything was in case you couldn’t sleep, let you have free rein of the fridge, freezer and cupboards, and even let Oscar the dog stay in your room, which Oscar was more than happy to oblige. 

‘I think that’s everything. If you need me, text me, okay? I’m right here.’ You shuffled over to him and wrapped your arms around his torso to give him a hug you’d needed for weeks at that point. He rubbed your back affectionately. He was like a big brother to you, and you were more grateful than you could ever put into words for his support.

You had expected that night to have been sleepless and anxious, but you were simply too exhausted, both mentally and physically, that by the time you changed into your pyjamas, brushed your teeth and climbed into bed, your eyes were drooping already. Oscar jumped onto the bed and turned around a couple of times, making a nice little den in the blanket for him to snuggle up next to you in. You reached out to fiddle with his curly fur. The dog was like a weighted blanket, reassuring you that you were safe and you were okay. Before you knew it, you were fast asleep.

As the days, weeks and months rolled by, you could feel yourself slowly healing. Ben, Reece and the rest of the Chelsea boys, along with Kai and Jorgi over at Arsenal (they were still very much part of the inner circle), stood stoically beside you every step of the way. You had initially distanced yourself from Stamford Bridge for the first couple of months, the memories you had made there with Mason all too painful, but you gradually made your way back into the hallowed halls of the iconic stadium. You attended matches whenever you could, and started to wear CHILWELL 21 shirts to matches. 

This had not gone unnoticed by fans. They had quickly cottoned on to the fact that you had gone back to London and Mason was still in Manchester. The gossip websites were in full swing, linking you and Ben together and writing spiteful articles about how you were a gold-digger, how you hopped from one football player to another, how it was your fault that your relationship had ended… You never minded, though. You continued on your healing journey and went about your daily business. You had secured a well-paying job back in London as an events planner in Soho, and had managed to find a nice little studio flat not too far from your office. Ben had insisted he buy you a new car, as you had sold your car up in Manchester to help bring some money in to pay for the flat deposit. Your life was most definitely on the up, and it would take a gigantic storm to blow you off course.

That gigantic storm came about a year after you moved back to London. You had your routine, you were solid in your job and you met up with Ben and the boys regularly. 

One such outing in Knightsbridge, Ben pulled you aside to have a chat.

‘What’s up, Benji?’ The nickname you had for him was one only you could use. He hated being called Benji by everyone, but you were basically his little sister. In his eyes, you could get away with murder.

‘Well, um…’ His face told you he had information he would rather not give you, but felt it was his moral obligation to do so anyway.

‘Come on, Ben, out with it!’

‘Declan’s invited me and Mason to his birthday party, and he’s invited you, too.’ His words sent a chill down your spine. You hadn’t spoken to or about Mason in months, although that hadn’t stopped you from thinking about him every day. Thinking about what could have been, thinking about the ‘what ifs’, thinking about what you could have done to make him stay in love with you. You were brought back to earth by Ben putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. ‘You don’t have to decide just yet, but the offer is there if you did want to go. It would be great to have you there.’ He gave you a quick hug, before he went back to join the rest of the group to have drinks, leaving you with your thoughts and a large decision to make. While you would love to celebrate Declan with your friends, you hadn’t seen or heard from Mason in a year. The awkwardness was what worried you the most, along with the possibility of all the emotions coming back if you did end up running into him. Because deep down, in your heart, you knew that you still loved him. He was the absolute love of your life, and you couldn’t help but feel that he was your one that got away. You realised then just how much you missed him. 

The night had swiftly come to an end for you, so you messaged Ben to let him know that you were on your way home and that you’d see him soon. 

Benjamin: No worries J  text me when you get home, and let me know if you’re coming to Dec’s birthday bash. We’d love to have you but I know you’ll have to decide. LOVE YA X

It was safe to say you didn’t get much sleep that night. You were awake for hours, tossing and turning, thinking about what Ben had said. It would be great to go and show up for Declan. He’d been there for you through everything, even with Lauren giving birth to little Jude. They had both made space for you in their busy lives with a new-born, and you couldn’t have been more grateful. Before you could stop yourself, you sent a message to Ben:

To: Benjamin: Been thinking about it all night. Sorry for the late message, I figured I needed to say it before I think about it more lol. I’ll be at Dec’s party x

You rolled over onto your side. There was no turning back now. 

The day of the party arrived. Your room was a mess, dresses and shoes strewn across the floor. You wanted to find the perfect outfit for a party, which would show that you cared to make an effort but not too much effort, on the off chance you would see Mason. 

Your eyes fell upon a navy blue bodycon dress that you had worn a couple of times before. It came down to your mid-thigh and had a neckline that did your bust some considerable favours. Finally feeling more positive about what you were wearing, having started to feel like you were going to have a breakdown about not being able to find anything appropriate to wear, you shoved on a pair of simple black heels and touched up your makeup. There was a knock at your door. Checking your phone, the time was 7:30; Ben was picking you up and he had arrived bang on time. 

‘Coming!’ Your voice carried into the hall as you opened the door to find Ben, who was wearing a smart navy-blue button down with black slacks. Your mind briefly registered the fact that the colour of his shirt was basically a direct match to your dress.

‘Hey, you,’ he smiled, leaning in to give you a hug. Your senses were temporarily hazy by his cologne, which you painfully recalled as one that Mason had recommended to him as you had liked it on Mason. On Ben, though, it didn’t have the same knee-weakening effect as it had done for you when Mason wore it. ‘You good?’ He had obviously taken your quietness as nervousness.

‘Yeah, yeah, I’m good. You?’ He nodded. You could tell he was searching your face for any signs of discomfort, of not wanting to go, of being terrified of seeing Mason. 

‘All good. Mostly just worried about you.’ You shrugged.

‘I’ll be fine. Got my wingman, I’ll be okay.’ You shared a laugh as you walked downstairs to where he had a car waiting. He held the door open for you, letting you slide in with him following you. 

You and Ben spent the journey talking about your days and what you’d got up to, how your job was going, what antics he and the boys got up to at training and other small talk. He didn’t want to say anything, as he could tell you were nervous enough as it was, but he knew you well enough to know that you missed Mason almost as much as Mason missed you. You were quiet, reserved, not your usual bubbly self. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you hadn’t been your usual bubbly self since the breakup. Ben knew you loved Mason, but he never thought the breakup would impact you as much as it did. 

 Before long, the car pulled up at Declan’s house. The nerves in the pit of your stomach started doing backflips as you went up to the front door. Loud bass was audible through the walls, and you could tell there was a large crowd already, even though it was early by most people’s standards. You just wanted to stay for a couple of hours at the most before quietly leaving, all ideally without seeing Mason. 

That plan quickly went out the window when Declan opened the door, arm in arm with Mason. 

‘Hey guys! Oh…’ Declan’s wide grin disappeared the minute he saw it was you and Ben, clearly thinking you were someone else. The awkwardness was palpable. ‘Hey Y/N, Ben, glad you guys could make it!’ Dec brought you in for a hug, whispering an ‘I’m so sorry’ in your ear as he did so. 

‘Don’t worry,’ you replied in an equally quiet voice, hoping he could hear you over the music. The squeeze he gave you told you he had heard you. 

You avoided Mason’s eyes completely as Ben and Declan caught up, Ben asking about life at Arsenal and how Declan was finding his new club. 

‘I’m gonna get a drink, did you want anything?’ You asked Ben at a break in the conversation. Mason’s eyes raked over you as you got close to Ben, one of your hands absent-mindedly on his arm. Jealousy raged in his stomach. 

‘Just a beer, please, gorgeous,’ Ben replied. His usual pet-name for you was innocuous for the both of you, but took on a whole new meaning in Mason’s head. Why was he calling you gorgeous? Why were you touching him? Were the tabloids correct? Had you gone for his former teammate in the wake of the breakup? Mason’s head was reeling. 

You handed Ben his drink and wandered off to mingle with some of the Arsenal WAGS, introducing yourself to Martin Ødegaard’s new girlfriend and giving Milly, Ben White’s new wife, a big hug to congratulate her, as you hadn’t been able to attend the wedding. 

Neither Declan or Ben missed the fact that Mason’s eyes rarely left your form for more than a few seconds as he watched you chat and catch up with some old friends. 

‘How are you, Mase, United treating you well?’ Ben asked conversationally. 

‘Yeah, ‘s alright.’ Eyebrows were raised at Mason’s curt tone. Ben and Declan exchanged confused glances, before leaving Mason to his thoughts and continuing into the party to see some of the other guys who had made an appearance. Mason was left with his thoughts as he stood and pondered his next move. 

As he was doing so, he saw you excuse yourself from the small throng of people to head to the kitchen to scope out the buffet. He seized his opportunity and followed you into the kitchen.

What he couldn’t have known was that instead of grabbing something to eat, you were having to physically stop yourself from having a full-blown panic attack. Gripping the counter with your hands and keeping your head bowed, you focused on keeping your breathing deep. 

You had no idea how many minutes had passed, but an all-to-familiar voice brought you back to earth with an almighty bump.

‘Y/N? You okay?’ You turned, and before you knew it, you were face-to-face with the person you never thought you’d see again. ‘Y/N?’ he asked again.

‘Y-yeah, I’m okay.’ You had suffered with anxiety and panic attacks throughout your relationship, and Mason had always known how to help you. 

‘You sure?’ A deep, shaky breath rattled through your body. You both knew the after-effects of the panic attack were the worst part of it all. You would feel exhausted, ashamed, guilty… But he had always been there to help you through it all. He would offer you cuddles, a listening ear, a movie, whatever you needed. 

Things were so different now, though. There was a rift the size of the Atlantic Ocean between you, and you didn’t know how to get across it. 

‘Let’s get you somewhere quiet, come on.’ He hesitated, before holding out his hand for you to hold. ‘You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.’ But you realised you wanted to. You needed him, you needed his touch, his hold. You reached out and grabbed his hand, immediately feeling like you had been connected with the earth again. 

He led you upstairs to one of the far guest rooms, opened the door and followed you in. You took a seat on the bed, fiddling with your hands in your lap. He sat on the floor in front of you, eyeing you carefully. 

‘You sure you’re okay?’ You sighed. A big, deep sigh. Now that you had him in front of you, the questions you’d held in for a year were threatening to spill over. 

‘Can I ask you something?’ The look on his face suggested that he knew what you were going to ask, but he nodded, all the same. ‘Why did you stop putting effort into our relationship? You always said that I was the love of your life, that I was it for you… what happened? What happened to us?’ He sighed, similar to how you had sighed earlier.

‘Honestly, Y/N, I don’t have a good reason. I wish I did, believe me, but I don’t. The media scrutiny, the fans giving me shit on social media, the move, everything to do with it, it all just got to me. I pushed you away without even realising and for that, I will never be able to apologise enough.’ You pondered his answer, and then debated asking a question you had longed to know the answer to since the day you left but were too scared to know the answer to. 

Before you could ask it, though, Mason spoke up. ‘Are you seeing Ben?’ The gravity of his question made you pause. 

‘What?’ 

‘Are you and Ben, you know, a thing?’ You shook your head.

‘No. He’s like a brother to me, Mase, you know that. All the boys are. When I met you, you gave me a whole new family I could only have dreamed of.’ Your eyes met again. His eyes hadn’t changed a bit. They were still the deep chocolate brown you’d found home in for all those years. 

You climbed down from the bed and sat with your back to the bed. Your mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to figure out how to ask the question you were starting to crave the answer to. You felt like the answer to it was yes, but you needed to be sure. Finally, you decided to just go for it.

‘Do you… do you still love me?’ The look on his face said it all. He was looking at you like he had never seen you before, as if you were the only woman in the entire world. And to him, you were. You were everything to him and he would be forever kicking himself for ever making you feel like you weren't. He scooted forward to crouch in front of you before gently holding your face with both hands. 

‘Y/N Y/LN, of course I still love you. And if you’ll have me, I’ll spend the rest of my days loving and cherishing you the way you deserve. The way I should have shown you from day one.’ Your eyes brimmed with tears as you looked at the man who had your heart. 

‘Of course, I’ll have you.’ You sat up and collapsed into his arms, finally feeling that you were home once again.

[haibunnyy]

This might be a hot take but…

I loved S7 of vld and I don’t get all the hate for S8. I see it a lot on here that people hate the later seasons or flat out refuse to watch S7-S8 and while everyone’s entitled to their opinions, honestly I don’t get it and hope now with VLD being taken off Netflix people give it a chance before it’s gone.

!Spoilers below!

Disclaimer S7 IS my favorite season. From the travel home where we see just how far the paladins have come with their relationships with each other from goofy moments like the game show episode to E6 the journey within, when they’re going crazy stranded in space and fighting with each other. “you ran away. Maybe you should’ve just stayed away” ugh the angst love it.

Then the second half of the season had so many solid moments where the cast finally got what they wanted, going home, seeing their families, proving the people who doubted them wrong (specifically Keith with this one tbh) but it’s nothing like how they expected. I thought the fight for earth arc was one of the most serious and emotional arcs of the show. Everyone willing to die for their home planet, the almost self-sacrifice moments, part where Lance closes his eyes ready to die and Keith’s calling out to him…sold.

Don’t get me wrong it’s far from perfect, I hear the criticism. We get the dreaded bury your gays drop this season with Adam (maybe that’s why they decided to kill off Allura, had to even it out /j )

Moving into S8, arguably not at good as S7 by a long shot but I still think it’s worth the watch. And I know I’m gonna lose people here but oh well it’s me and my delusions against the world.

Persssonaalllyyy I see a lot of the hate for this season comes from Allura and Lance getting together. And okay don’t shoot me here but I’ve noticed a lot of hate for Allura in general stems from this season and I am a Allura defender to the end. I’m gonna be honest in the rewatch I could see it, why people ship klance (they’re my OTP I get it), the rumors about if there was one more season it’d be canon, or how the staff even shipped them or how someone left the team or got fired and that’s why it’s not canon. I get it truuuussttt me I get it. But that’s just not what we got and in the context of what we did get, I honestly thought Lance’s and Allura’s relationship, as short lived as it was, was cute.

We see 7 seasons of Lance flirting with Allura, flirting with all these girls claiming to be a romantic and you now what? He is! He’s a good boyfriend! As much as he changed throughout the show he’s still “loverboy Lance” nervous to make the perfect date for the girl he likes, talking to his friends about it cause he’s feeling insecure taking out a literal princess, taking Allura to meet his family, and as much as I ship klance over allurance (and would have preferred for the two of them to go out instead) their date was CUTE okay sue me.

As for Allura, I get it, she did not like Lance AT ALL in the beginning seasons. So where did this come from? Poor choices in the writing room most likely BUT in the canon Allura has been strong willed the entire show, leading along side the BP, becoming a paladin herself, giving up her father to protect others, loosing the castle of lions and truly one of the last pieces of Altea, she looses so much and even when she finds out there’s Alteans alive, they hate her and believe she’s the bad guy. She’s been this selfless warrior princess who’s had to be selfless for 7 seasons, I think when presented the opportunity to be selfish and happy, she would take it. Shes tired, all her paladins got to go home to their families, got to return to their home planet. Shes lonely af, happy for them ofc but that shit gotta be depressing.

And again as much as I prefer Klance and Allura/ Romelle, for the canon I thought it made a lot of senses that she’d go out with Lance after he asks. I definitely see it as a “fuck it, why not” from her and she gained feelings throughout their relationship. Which irl I don’t recommend but in my eyes it humanized Allura. She made a lot of selfish choices this season from taking creature from the void to, agreeing to go out with Lance. But again I don’t even think it was out of character of her. I think it was bound to happen, after everything she’s been through, being selfless and perfect all the time she finally cracks. Plus it was nice seeing Allura have her “I’m just a girl” moment. Going shopping with Romelle and Pidge, having girl talks, trying to impress Lance’s family. It made her more relatable.

Another selling point for this season were the fight seasons Honestly I loved all the fight scenes in this season, the animation really popped off today. My fav was between Zethrid and the paladins. But does does loose a point here for Zethrid and Ezor being hinted as a wlw but never explicitly stated so boo to that.

We also have a lot of fun and rewarding moments with the paladins as well, like the clear day episode. We get to see Shiro actually have fun for once. Only took 8 seasons but hey. The moments between Pidge and her family were very wholesome and rewarding considering how much Pidge went through to get her family back together. Lance with his family was also cute. His little rant about why his sister shouldn’t go out with Keith was funny. The infamous sunset scene with Keith and Lance, would I have gone batshit insane if it was a love confession between the two? Oh absolutely but oh well. Hunk and Keith’s friendship was nice to see considering where they started with Hunk being the timid one and Keith being an emo loser. TLDR it was nice to see those finale happy times where we really see how far everyone has come before the ending.

As for the ending, maybe I’m just not creative enough to see a different route. But Honerva being the finale villain was one of my favorite choices for this ending. She’s been there literally the entire time just fucking shit up for the universe. Her motive to be in a reality where she can be with her husband and child? 👏 having villains just be evil for the fuck of it is great and all. But it reminded me a lot of the scarlet witch from marvel and she’s my all time favorite character in he MCU so maybe that’s why I liked Honerva so much. Fuck the universe if your family is on the line, am I right? It made her a great villain in my eyes and the polar opposite of allura who had to give up her family and her home for the sake of the universe.

Which is why Allura sacrificing herself to save the universe? Lowkey saw it coming since around season 5 and to me made total sense. She tried to be normal, to live on earth or on the atlas, but she’s a reliac of the past and she knows it. It goes back to the point I made of this girl is tired af. A chance to save to universe and be reunited with her parents even if it’s death, she’d do it. Season 8 she tried deviating from the role forced upon her as the selfless sacrificial lamb but she was doomed from the start. I deadass cried when she died and honestly I’m fine with her death as well. Everyone did what they were destined to do; if the paladins were destined to save the universe, she was destined to die for it.

Now to the post credits and post canon

Here’s where I say the hate is valid and deserved. Points lost fr with having Shiro marry an extra. I get it, they wanted the diversity points of saying YES Shiro is in fact gay but they were only allowed so much wiggle room/if they put it at the very end nothing can go wrong right? so they settled for that. Do I see the damage it does towards queer representation in media? Now I do but at the time when my little gay self watched that I was shocked they’d even show that much and took the breadcrumb piece of rep and ran with it. I told myself, “meh shiro deserves to live the quiet married life after all the shit he’s been there.” But it def should have been Adam.

As for everyone else, the journey’s over. The lions are gone, I thought it made sense that everyone went their separate ways but still maintained a friendship. That’s growing up, that’s adulthood. When I watched that at 17 I was annoyed that they didn’t stay together as a friend group but now at 23, I totally get it. They are still friends, they just got their own things going on so they only reunite when they can. If that’s not adult friendships idk what is.

Keith traveling with the blade helping others, great! Hunk and Shay being cooks and doing diplomacy shit, awesome! Pidge living her best life with her parents building up earth, love it! Did I like that the one Latino character ended up being a stereotype and living on a farm? No I did not.

I interrupted as Lance staying on earth and grieving Allura’s death. Which I can see happening but Lance deserved his own happy ending. I see Lance becoming an MFE pilot or joining the Atlas crew with his sister, something where he continues to pilot cause it’s all he’s ever wanted to do but still carrying that grief with him.

To finish this yap session off, my final thoughts are I think a lot of S8 hate comes from Allurance and the post credits. I think the hate for Allurance and Allura is unfair and some of it stems (from what I’ve noticed) from this misogynist/fetishizing tendacy to shit on the female characters who come between mlm ships in fandoms. So again, I am an Allura defender through and through.

As mentioned earlier, hate for the post credits, makes total sense. But I’d like to bring up a point I see rarely discussed in this discourse. I am not excusing the queer bating that happened or the blatant racial stereotype we got for Lance’s ending but I truly believe Voltron is a product of the times and essential for the evolution of queer rep in western animation. I could do an entirely separate post on this but I’ll sum it up as best as I can here. Queer representation in main stream western media was still new and touchy. And mlm representation was even fewer. I think the backlash is valid and was necessary for dreamworks/Netflix and any other companies to learn their lesson that gay people in cartoons is OKAY and should be normalized. that’s why following I think Vld was one of the many factors in a shift for openly queer couples in animation that we see in shows like She-ra.

So it sucked that we never got klance yeah but I never once thought Klance was gonna be canon. I wished for it but I figured the best we could hope for is some hints like how they ended Legend of Korra.

So besides from the effects it had on western media, as a fan I’ll still take the ending and even recommend it to people as is because of the art that came after. The fanart, the edits, the post-canon and fix-it fics I love reading time and time again. None of that would exist without that controversial ending. I don’t think I’d still be such a diehard fan to this day if it had ended any differently. My appreciation for this show and obsession stems from how invested I was in the controversies, rumors and hype every season. Like the whole pride month post on twitter, dear god what a mess but hopefully a word of warning now for creators thinking of queer baiting fans again.

It’s not perfect, there were a lot of fucks up along the way and at times, downright problematic but I will still always recommend people watch VLD all the way through. But hey maybe that’s just my way of wishing I had more people to talk about the ending with ¯\_ツ_/¯

[barbika1508]

Star struck (Steven Grant x Reader)

Word Count: 2,7 K

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Cuteness

Summary: Y/N meets a celebrity and Steven doesn’t quite know who she is talking about, but still manages to get jealous which doesn’t go past Y/N, who finds it all amusing, given she only has eyes for her boys.

/ Masterlist 2023 /

I’m barely able to hold back my squealing from excitement, the bus ride home eventful as I can’t stop humming. I could barely sit still. And of course, the elevator takes forever when you least want it to. So, power walking down the corridor I restrain myself in that aspect. Until I reach the front door of the apartment, fumbling with the key, almost walking into the door as one of my boyfriend’s did a double lock.

‘’Open c’mon.’’ I whine, stubbornly pushing patience lost. Jumping inside I’m surprised that I catch my balance looking up seeing Steven peeking around from the bookshelf having stood up I’m sure due to my commotion.

‘’You will never believe what happened!’’ I call out still containing my excitement while my boyfriend cutely tilts his head, confusion written all over his handsome features. Spinning on my heel I close the doors, leaving the key inside the lock.

‘’I was at Piccadilly; random I know it bustling with tourists’ dear gods. A little bit of sun and everyone just comes out from hiding, unbelievably predictable humans are, aren’t they?’’ As I ramble, I pull over my head my purse, hanging it onto the newly acquired coat hanger we’ve gotten just the previous weekend having stumbled upon a market where they sold antiques.

‘’I wanted to pick up some cakes from the new place they opened. The one I mentioned that I saw from TikTok?’’ I make a gesture stopping briefly as he walks slowly closer looking cosy. So handsome and cute at the same time, a dark green sweater, and comfy grey sweatpants his curls are wild enticing me to just hug him and never let him go.

He gives the slightest nod making me clap my hands ‘’Yes!’’ I cheer beginning to pull of one sleeve of his padded jeans jacket I lately am obsessed with wearing ‘’Anyways the line was insaneeeeee!’’ I give him a deadpan look ‘’I swear babe, I would've waited until tomorrow.’’ Slipping my right arm out I throw the jacket over the entire coat hanger ‘’ANYWAY I digress.’’ I shake my head bringing my hands together as I walk up to Steven who is still looking at me tentatively, confusion gone a smile tugging at the corner of his lip.

‘’Wow you look handsome.’’ I find myself getting distracted once I’m standing in front of him, earning myself his chuckles, one hand settling over my hip the other cupping my joined hands delivering a sweet kiss on top. Unable to move past how handsome he is, how he makes my heart speed just by a look let alone the sweet gesture of kissing my hand.

‘’So, you were at Piccadilly.’’ he reminds amused, his hands crossing together as he settles them on the low of my back holding me close. I shamelessly press both of my palms flat over his firm chest.

‘’Yes, there! The crowd on the bus just got too rowdy and I figured why not get the deserts. Anyway, I jumped out the first moment I could. Had to make my way from the very back, bloody hell…’’ his smile widens ‘’...I almost had to wrestle a woman to give room so I could go out!’’

‘’And you’d win the fight if a drawl broke lose.’’ he teases to which I point my finger confirming his words giving a curt nod.

‘’You know I would.’’ I snort ‘’So, I jumped slash got thrown out basically. Almost kissed the ground in relief.’’

We both make grimaces at that Steven still amused and unusually standing still as he watches me ‘’Okay the good part. So, I looked up to the front of the bus hearing the doors closing and then, barely got a step forward when a guy followed, landing not so graciously behind me. The bus just took off.’’

He shakes his head tsking to which I nod ‘’Right??! So rude.’’ I shake my head along with him ‘’I instinctively grabbed the guy’s arm and his way too fancy coat and literally dragged the man onto the sidewalk and away from the buses splash zone. Of course, there was a huge puddle there.’’ I raise my right hand giving him the OK gesture.

‘’Uh oh dove.’’ he begins but I put my finger on his lip, stopping but mostly surprising him as his eyes dares from my hand back to me.

‘’Stop thinking ahead!’’ I warn ‘’The man who I grabbed and “saved”...’’ I do the quotation marks ‘’Was none other than Kit Harrington!’’

I look at him pointedly watching his blank expression as it switches from puzzlement to tenses as soon as I raise an eyebrow pointedly, the whole reveal not reaching what I hoped it would.

‘’Jon Snow?’’ I try giving him the biggest hint, his perplexity turning into furrowed brows as he offers a sympathetic smile.

‘’I’m sorry my dove, but I’m really blanking. Is he the character from yesterday's movie?’’

Not to be over dramatic but I mentally face-palm myself. For a man who knows names of pharaohs, and can read Egyptian hieroglyphs, and remembers history dates better than anyone I’ve ever met, and also absurd details I tell him about myself and in general he really, reaaaaallly sucks at remembering the names of characters, shows and movies.

‘’Wow.’’ I begin attempting to take a step back as I raise my hands as if in surrender ‘’Woww!’’ I repeat intent on ducking to get out of his hold, but he’s faster knowing all my moves after all picking me up even as I twist around in his hold ‘’Whelp- STEVEN!!!’’ I shout grabbing onto his arms resting under my belly.

‘’Relax…’’ he begins with a smile in his voice.

‘’YOU’RE GONNA DROP ME, STEVEN…’’ I continue twisting, not sure what to hold onto as he has me in a weird position and quite high up, holding me in such a way that I’m far from the ground. Okay sounds dramatic again but he could drop me at any moment, I would not get the chance to turn and catch myself like a cat. In any case.

‘’I’m not dove!’’ he reassures making his way to the couch, hold firm ‘’Stop wigglin’ so much, you little fox.’’

Twisting me in his hold effortlessly I must add I cling onto his shoulders the moment I’m turned, one hand settling around his head the other, around his shoulders, legs settled over his upper torso.

‘’Why raise me so high up?’’ I whine as he stands still his hands barely supporting me as my grip is enough to keep myself steady ‘’I know you’re strong but, my gods love. Did Marc talk you into this?!’’

I grumble keeping still as I can my thighs beginning to strain ‘’Didn’t have to. I just know you to well.’’ comes his muffled reply ‘’Now can you slowly let go of me for a moment pretty girl? I kind of don’t see where the couch is anymor’.’’

His chuckles are way amused by the tingle of fear that’s still present. Only when I feel his hands move under my thighs do I register his words, slowly letting go, thrusting him to hold me.

‘’Please don’t drop me, please don’t drop me…’’ I repeat under my breath switching into glaring at him as he twists me like a gymnast effortlessly, lying me down first and then settling himself atop of me, his weight welcomed as he keeps me pinned, arms caging me in, head settling over chest, looking up at me.

‘’I would neva.’’ for good measure he shifts and presses a kiss to my nose.

‘’I know.’’ I admit watching his eyebrows raise up as he stares at me ‘’It’s something about height that makes me irrational I guess.’’ I make up a lame excuse although not so farfetched either. Cupping his cheeks I admire him, how soft his eyes are, his tolerance for my rambling saint like. All the boys are patient with me.

‘’So, about this Kit fellow…’’ he begins his face slightly hardening eyes averting from me for a moment. I recognized his train of thought where it’s going with it, I’m sure the other boys present as his eyes drift towards the blank screen of the TV.

Albeit awkward as he’s further down on me, I hold myself up with my left shaky arm but end up being successful as I direct his face upwards bending enough so I can press my lips against his distracting him. It lasts a second or two, unfortunately the position completely comfortless.

‘’Okay you gotta move up, pretty boy I can’t kiss you like that.’’ I say as I fall against the pillow reaching back to rub the back of my neck ‘’I feel like I almost sprained a muscle there…’’

This time he stops me with a kiss, having raised just perfectly shutting me up in the best way possible. I can feel his smile as he moves his lips slowly taking his time. I savour him likewise, always eager for whatever my boys give me. Fast, slow, hard, teasing. I'm just happy to be with them.

The kiss gets broken too soon for my liking, my fingers barely sliding into his glorious curls. I watch as his dreamy look shifts into a serious one. Before I can question him further, he ends up burying his face into my neck as rest atop of me, his weight not a problem as he’s strategically lying down. He’s that considerate yeah.

‘’Are the boys annoying you?’’ I whisper running my fingers over his scalp to calm him down, his nod subtle to which I hum ‘’Lads it’s rainy. And its cuddle time. You’ve got plenty of cuddles, okay? Stop bothering Steven.’’

As I speak, I stare up at the ceiling and the wood planks holding the roof above us - literally. I raise my hand just in sync as Steven turns his head the other way, my eyes following his onto the still blank TV screen. For a second, I watch Marc as he glares at himself his hold tightening.

Knowing no words are going to help as the boys share one body and can behave like brat’s, I reach for the coffee table grabbing the remote thank the gods successfully, turning the TV on immediately.

‘’Do you wanna watch a documentary on Atlantis?’’ I break the silence and I hope their arguing, feeling the shift in my boyfriend's hold, the man snuggling closer moving his head so that he has it tucked under my chin but not uncomfortably as I move the buttons of the remote, onto my profile and my list to watch.

‘’I would love to, mon amour.’’

My cheeks are hit with heat instantly. Steven doesn’t often speak French but when he does, when he uses French nicknames…safe to say I’m ready to throw my panties at him. Clicking onto the documentary I slowly exhale trying to calm myself down, content to be where I am.

The intro drags out the whole explanation kind of unnecessary as I know the entirety of the alure that is the lost city. Its reason enough to avoid some documentaries as the information tends to repeat itself. But not even 10 minutes into it the host gets revealed to which my hand shoots out as I point ahead!

‘’That’s Kit Harrington!’’ I reveal excitement again hitting me, Steven raising onto his elbows as I wiggle in excitement ‘’He was so nice. Kind of nervous to be honest looking around but not in a creepy way. Let me up I want to show you, we took a selfie…’’ giggling in excitement to show him the said selfie Steven lies back onto me keeping me in place his pouty and grumpy expression making me halt in confusion ‘’So now you take selfies huh??’’

‘’I mean…’’ I drag the word out ‘’He is a celebrity.’’ I raise my eyebrows in question, my answer not satisfying his query. I watch as he looks at the TV, Kit explaining something, ending up giggling with his co-host.

‘’Celebrity or not, he ain’t tha’ special.’’ Steven grumbles getting up sitting on his knees glaring at the TV raising his arm up ‘’Look at him. Shave much?’’ the insult has my lips retreating into a line as I try to keep laughter at bay admiring my boyfriend as he gets unusually grumpy Steven being a sweetheart at all times and unapologetically himself, grumpiness not really something I associated him by.

That’s Marc’s thing.

‘’Must be the curls.’’ He concludes pointing his finger at me as in accusation his action having me raise my hands in surrender ‘’You have a type don’t ya?’’ he grins in triumph as if he had figured me out.

‘’If my type is cuddly, extremely handsome and knowledgeable in ancient Egyptology who kick’s ass and is very smart then I definitely have a type.’’ I muse spreading my arms out to invite him back in. But instead, my boyfriend remains on his knee’s hand still in the air as he looks at the TV, and at Kit still speaking the silence and his lack of reaction self-explanatory.

‘’You dofus!’’ I shout grabbing the pillow behind me swinging it over my head with both arms blindly to hit him ‘’I was taking about you Steven!!! My gods!!!’’ I complain staring at him in disbelief at how he doesn’t automatically think about himself ‘’The man is married for the love of, wahhh.’’ Frustrated I can’t even end the sentence grabbing the second pillow my head landing not so nicely on the arm rest as I swing it again.

But my boyfriend is deceiving under the lose clothing he prefers to wear. The man is strong as an ox – he displayed a fraction of his strength when he carried me over – pushing the second pillow out of the way landing atop of me once more grasping my hands making sure to pull me lower and flat against the couch.

Blinking in downright bafflement I look at the calm expression Steven is sporting as he’s observing me, I’m sure holding himself back from firing another sarcastic comment against the forgotten documentary still playing in the background. Thanks to his closeness I’m pulled into glorifying my boyfriend’s handsome features. The was his lips had gone in a line portraying sternness, pointy nose curving nicely, half closed eyes providing a mystery as to what is going through his mind. As he subtly shift’s a lose curl from his unruly hair falls over his forehead my eyes flickering to it.

‘’It’s the curls.’’

The statement has me meeting his gaze, a bright smile spreading over his features ‘’I knew it.’’ Smug as ever he muses, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

‘’Hmm.’’ I begin any rebuttal dying down as I take him in ‘’Must be.’’ I murmur getting serious myself, cupping his face feeling how warm he is refocusing his triumph back onto me ‘’But I like you the most.’’

I end up whispering as if I’m telling him a secret.

And que back my wonderful shy Steven, whose cheeks under my palms heat up. He ducks down lying half on me face buried under my chin his movements of rearranging us hurried but effective and soft in nature, leaving me giggling halfway through.

‘’Cutie patotie.’’ I cheer wrapping my arms around my boyfriend even hocking a leg over his thigh, my head falling to the right as I look at the TV. Rising my hand higher I begin playing with his curls smiling quietly to myself as the documentary has ended. I watch as the next suggested show begins the countdown to be played.

3. 2. 1.

At the grandiose music intro, the title gets spoken out loud Steven immediately turning his head to face the TV, not moving an inch his attention stolen. It’s always about Egyptology. Even though a good 3 minutes into the show Kit appears again, my boyfriend remains quiet this time around.

So, I let him be enjoying my position, and his warmth and gentle fleeting touches. It’s a good day today. Having met a celebrity not at all that much of an accomplishment.

This right here…oh yeah. Perfection.

Copyright 2023© by barbika1508. All rights reserved.

[noxturnals-void]

My Dearest Shadow

Jason Voorhees x GN! Reader

Pt. 1

(It might lean fem at times but I’m going to try my best to keep it neutral for everyone!)

I don’t know how many parts there will be so just hold on for the ride. ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Tw: stalking, anxiety, paranoia, jason shenanigans

2,311 words below the cut

You had renovated a little house your father had told you about, one you didn't even know existed two years ago. You spent lots of time fixing it up, lots of money, and tireless days doing the work by hand, and still, you weren't done. Thankfully, most of the difficult, labor-intensive parts were handled with the help of a few hired people.

Supposedly, the house lying on the outskirts of a small town in New Jersey had been abandoned for the past 20 years, belonging to some old couple before they moved into another state and left the place to rot when no one wanted to buy the house because of some superstition about the land. It went up on the market after they died and sold for 50,000. It was a concerningly low price that your house-flipping father had taken advantage of.

He hadn't even visited the property in the years he had owned it, let alone told you about it until you mentioned wanting to set up a little getaway spot on the east coast. He had told you the details, and you decided it was exactly what you needed—a new project to focus your energy on. But you were woefully unprepared for the beast of a job you'd just signed yourself up for.

A year and a half was much longer than you had intended to spend fixing this 1000-square-foot cabin cottage, but it was well worth it. It was a beautiful location, nestled right into a vast landscape of dense, private forest with a breathtaking lake view partially in the kitchen and living room windows- a 10-minute walk away. When the sun hit just right in the mornings, it was like a fairytale. A golden bath of warm, welcoming rays wakes you up better than any cup of coffee could ever.

You'd finally gotten in all of the furniture you wanted, having to space out the hauls between a few months at a time. The house was built for one or a singular couple. There was a small porch, redone with fresh wood and a chair set on the front for guilty pleasure moments outside in the late morning or early evenings. Walking into the cabin, you were put immediately into the living room- two chairs positioned apart and pointing toward a smaller flat-screen television tucked away in the corner of the room on a low shelf for your collection of films.

Even with just you living there, the two different chairs were comforting- one more rough, textured, and firm and the other plush and soft, letting you choose depending on what you'd rather sit on to binge a show or movie for the night. To the other side of the room was the entryway to the kitchen, an open-concept attempt at a cozy space. The bedroom was on the other side of the living room wall, housing your queen-sized mattress and more personal furniture and belongings. There was a short hallway leading to the utility closet with the newer models of washers and dryers, which you could get your hands on for less money, and your newly renovated bathroom.

Lots of the house seemed to have gone with age. Things like the kitchen and bathroom floors had to be pulled up and replaced, everything deep cleaned twice over for good measure, and lots of rounds with exterminators and pest control; the first few months paid off in the long run. Admittedly, you felt bad for killing the tiny creatures. They were just trying to find shelter in the large ecosystem at your doorstep.

You'd managed to get a shower and bathtub combo in the more narrow bathroom; glad to have both options when you felt like it. The house already had surprisingly high ceilings, and you didn't mind that the shower head was a bit out of reach because of its design. A little color coordination here and there and most of the cottage was done up in shades of deep, calming, and comforting greens and blues with lighter accenting greys to keep it not so claustrophobic.

Most of your focus went to the outside of the house now. Finished with most of the inside work, you could now turn your detail-oriented self to the withered outside. With some much-needed love and care, you hoped to fix the paint job into a lovely grey blue and pick up some new windows to replace the old and cracked ones you'd been having trouble with.

Really, it should have occurred to you sooner to repair them, but you'd gotten yourself too busy with too many things at once staring out, and you'd put it off for far too long. Last winter had been a nightmare because of those stupid cracked panes, and you were definitely not about to live through that mistake again.

You'd just gotten the garden sorted out. It was something you'd planned for since the beginning, but you had to put a lot of elbow grease into making it work. You had picked up the bulk of the materials last week, including the young plants and seeds you'd needed, along with the mulch and moist dirt.

Now, you were on your knees, elbow-deep in fresh, damp dirt, making shallow holes for the seeds. You sat back, breathing in and sighing out.

It was a lovely day today despite getting a later start than you wanted. The air was crisp and cool, about 60 degrees out today. It was supposed to get chilly the next few weeks and then warm back up before the end of fall. Then came all the rain and possible snow.

You weren't used to the weather of New Jersey yet, but honestly, it was a nice change from California. It didn't really get cold until January, and summers could get pretty hot, but it rained, and the rain was always welcome, in your opinion. It was nice to get snowy Christmases, too. It reminded you of northern Cali, so tree-populated and the air so intensely fresh, that you had to admit it was nice to get away from the city life for a while.

This little adventure had opened your eyes to many things you were missing- yourself included. You'd never spent so much time alone, at least not since childhood. You'd always had friends, roommates, and a busy college life or cityscape to keep you preoccupied. Out here, it was just you, the weekly check-in from your father, the homely woods, the picturesque lake, and... whoever had been living around here watching you.

You'd seen the shape of someone lingering around a few times. At first, you brushed it off. Working hard every day had its downsides, and you thought you were just way too tired to see it properly. It was probably just a deer or something, you convinced yourself.

But after the first month, you couldn't ignore it anymore—the feeling of eyes on you when you walked past some windows, the other presence as you walked through some of the nearby woods. It was always quiet, though, and truthfully, you'd never seen whoever it was close enough to convince yourself fully.

When you'd mentioned it to your father about six months into living here, he'd told you that you must have been paranoid. There was no way anyone lived that far away from the tight-knit town, which was 30 minutes away. The whole forest, including the old camp he had never mentioned before, had been abandoned for years.

You took it upon yourself the next day to walk to Camp Crystal Lake. It took a while, and again, you felt eyes scanning you, searching you for something, or maybe just dissecting you under its gaze. You tried to shake it off, but it didn't help to ignore it. You often scanned through the trees to find the owner of the eyes, but each time, you found nothing. You began to worry that maybe the isolation had been affecting you differently than you thought. Perhaps you had been paranoid over nothing. Maybe you'd been alone out here too long.

You didn't spend long at the neglected campsite. Honestly, it felt wrong to be trespassing in the first place, especially when you had no reason to be there besides foolish curiosity. Many of the cabins looked incredibly run down, the wood rotting and falling away and the forest taking over much of the paths and steps of the place. You had your fill of satisfied curiosity after just an hour of poking around, finding strange things you didn't expect. Notably, some belongings that were from probable teenagers who'd visited. It wasn't surprising to think kids would dare each other to spend the night since it looked so creepy in the first place.

You should've gone straight home, but you felt drawn to the lake. Admittedly, you hadn't visited as much as you wanted. You went down to the pier of the lake, walking out to the far end and taking in the clearer view of the lake against the beginnings of a sunset. It was beautiful, and you almost thought about watching the sun go down but decided against it when you realized you had no light to try to walk back to the house. That and the idea of walking through those woods with those unwavering eyes still on you the entire way made a chill go up your spine.

You got home soon after that, just before dark, yet even in your own house, it was hard to shake the feeling of being watched. Not just by windows anymore, all the time... The second you stepped outside, the eyes followed your every move. It made it hard to live normally until winter came. The feeling of being observed 24/7 stopped completely for the few weeks it got into the tens and twenties, which was an even more unsettling thought.

Maybe it had been a real person, and it was just too cold for them to linger and creep on you. You hadn't forgotten about the campsite or the eyes that stuck to you for a while afterward. But it still made it unsettling when the feeling started up again in early spring.

Part of you was weirded out that you never felt entirely alone, but as the weeks went on, it was almost more of a... comfort. Whatever it was- whoever it was had never harmed you, and the stare it gave off didn't feel dangerous. It almost felt curious, maybe protective? Something out there in the woods was watching you, yes, but it was also watching over you.

You'd had the odd few occasions of falling asleep in random places and waking up in entirely different places. It only happened twice, and you were careful that it wouldn't happen again. You’d been dreadfully tired that particular week, and the physical labor of building a deck by hand had taken its toll on you. You'd fallen asleep outside on the halfway constructed porch drinking tea the first time, trying to keep yourself awake long enough not to mess up your sleep schedule. It didn’t work. You later awoke in your living room, a thin blanket pulled over your legs.

It freaked you out at first—the idea that someone had moved you and been inside your house. But after a thorough, slightly panicked search through the cottage and realizing no one was around and nothing was touched besides, well, you—and your now cold cup of tea—you calmed down. You mulled over it for the rest of the week, not understanding why whoever it was had decided to take care of you like that.

The second time wasn't as much of an accident; you'd fallen asleep outside again a little more intentionally than before. You simply tested if it were to happen again. It did. You woke up again on the chair with a blanket, the same as before, but this time, you were noticeably less clean than when you’d fallen asleep.

Whoever it was left fingerprints of dirt on your waist and thighs where they had picked you up and carried you. Most of your clothing on one side was significantly grime-coated, and that was enough to make you decide not to try it again.

You wiped your brow with the back of your arm and finished up planting all of the seeds you wanted. You were saving some to plant next spring in case these didn't make it through the winter, just to be safe. You got to your feet, wiping your hands down your dirt-covered jeans and huffed, stretching out your sore back. As you did, a twig snapped, and you froze in place, wondering whether or not to turn around toward the tree line behind you.

In normal circumstances, you would have checked immediately, figuring it might have been an animal. But you felt those eyes on you, those same eyes that had followed your every move for the last year and a half. Your paranoia got the better of you now, and the idea of seeing whoever had been watching you this entire time made your stomach turn to mush.

Your eagerness got the better of you, and you turned around despite the loud thumping in your chest. There was nothing at first as you searched through the closest trees. A figure quickly moved to the side at the edge of your vision- a very large figure. You gulped, scanning the tree line and focusing on a thick tree trunk hiding the person well. Whoever they were, they were most definitely right there, and to your knowledge, this was the closest encounter you'd had with them while awake.

You tried to think of something to say, pondering if you should have said anything at all in this tense moment.

What were you supposed to do…?

[thatgoblin]

Summary: When John goes on a cattle run, you and Simon get some time to get closer.

Warnings: Past sexual harassment, smooches, cuddles.

“What is she doing?” I mumbled, watching the movie on the TV. “How is that even comfortable to stand like that in heels?”

“I don’t think it is comfortable, Sweetheart,” Simon said, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl in my lap. “It probably feels like she’s walking on glass. The woman deserves an Oscar for acting through the pain.”

“Really.” 

Simon was the only one home with me for a week and a half. John had to haul some cattle across the damn country with a friend, only known as Soap from what I had gathered, of theirs to make sure they got the best prices from a buyer in Texas. I hated that he’d be gone for so long, but I also knew that it meant we’d get a big paycheck and would keep bills at bay another month or two longer. That was something no one really talked about with ranches and farms. There were so many bills ranging from utilities to taxes that you’d think we were making bank with the herefords that we sold. If anything it just barely got us by. 

But that was the other thing about owning and working a ranch or a farm. You didn’t do it for the money, you did it because it was what you loved. It was because we loved the life we were living that the money didn’t matter so long as we could make our bills on time. It didn’t leave much room for big vacations or big toys that some, much larger, ranchers had. We didn’t need those though. We were happy spending our evenings together in front of the TV after a long day of working while laying with each other. 

It had been nearly three weeks since I’d arrived and I had settled even more. There was no more hiding emotions or ducking affection. I talked out my feelings and even gave my own touches of affection. In getting more comfortable with the two Alphas, I began to let down my guard more and more. To the point that we even walked around in towels. Only towels.

I wasn’t ready to take that next step of plain ol’ nudity, but I did enjoy watching John in his towel that skirted above his knees. He was strong and hairy, his arms and legs covered in dark sandy hair that didn’t do a thing to hide the very solid muscles that let him easily carry Simon around as much as he liked. My favorite part was his belly. It wasn’t flat or chiseled, but a healthy bit of roundness to it while having soft hair trail down to his groin. He looked breathtaking with his freckles from being out in the sun so much, as well as  a few scars kissing over his belly and back. On warmer nights like that night, before fall was really taking hold, they’d both sit on the sofa with no shirt on while I was in short shorts and a tank top.

And Simon. That man was much larger than his clothes made him look. Covered in tattoos, not just his arms, he was nearly completely covered from his ankles to his neck His arms and legs were just as thick as John’s were, giving them equal power to pick me up to throw me on their shoulders. I always complained and swatted at them, but I actually didn’t mind. Not that I’d tell either of them that. While emotions were more readily displayed, I was not ready to actually work with my attraction to them. They were handsome Alphas and I was lucky they were just as sweet and caring, but I had never had a romantic partner, let alone kissed anyone. 

Until I figured out how to actually go about flirting, I was not going to pursue anything else. 

“Do lines like those really work?” I asked, staring at the TV with a frown as an actor gave an actress some cheesy pick up line that she giggled at. 

“They might get a laugh at least,” Simon said. “But they don’t really work. I’m sure you’ve heard your fair share of bullshit lines growing up from the Alphas and Betas.”

“I guess,” I said, not really remembering any lines like in the TV show. Usually it had been along the lines of the kids making fun of me for being an Omega, but I would then beat the snot out of them. When I got older, the teasing turned sexual and there wasn’t much courting happening till after high school. Even then, most of the time the Alphas and Betas that tried would just come up to me to say they thought I would be a good Omega for their pack and that we should mate. There wasn’t a lot of romance like the TV shows. 

“What’s the worst line you’d ever gotten when someone tried to court you?” Simon asked, turning from the TV to look at me. He shifted in his seat fully to face me, propping his face up on his fist with his elbow on the back of the couch.

“Uh. . . Probably the one I got from Matt Keller in my freshman year of college,” I said. “He basically just told me he wanted to see my stomach swell with his babies.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Simon groaned, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I broke his nose,” I said with a smirk. 

“Good. He deserved worse, but at least you gave him a taste of it,” Simon said with a nod. “Was there any courting that you thought maybe someone could actually be a decent person?”

“Not really. It was a small town and I was the only Omega. Not a lot of people really cared how I felt or what I wanted, so I just ignored just about every person who tried to “court” me because it wasn’t really courting. It was just a proposition to be a mate or the Omega of a pack, which neither interested me and I made sure everyone knew it. Not that it stopped them from continually trying,” I said with a shrug. “I didn’t get to go to house parties or prom or sleepovers because I wasn’t allowed to. Partially because my parents didn’t want me to come home knocked up and partially because none of the other parents wanted me around. I always caused trouble by getting in fights, even if it was to defend myself. They didn’t see it as being a proper Omega.”

“So, no magical kiss with a prom date under the stars while necking in the front seat of your El Camino?” Simon asked with a raised brow.

“That’s strangely specific, but no. I did not. I stayed at home and worked on school. It was all I had really and I didn’t want to give anyone a reason to take it away,” I said. “I wanted to work on my dad’s cattle ranch. I wanted to run it, so I didn’t really make time for finding actually good romance or friendships really. . . That’s kinda sad, isn’t it?”

“Naw,” Simon said with a chuckle. “Things have changed. Despite your experience in the small town sphere, Omegas have more freedom of open choices in the bigger cities around the world. You would be able to go to college without Matt Keller giving you that horrific pick up line. Which means, no awkward flirting and courting that is.” 

“Oh yeah?” I asked, setting the bowl of mostly corn kernels on the floor before moving to put a foot in his lap and letting him do the same with me. Well, my foot was in his lap, half his leg was in mine. The man was long. “No cheesy one-liners from you or John about how you can make my night wild?” I asked with a giggle as I began to rub his foot while he rubbed mine. 

“Sweetheart, you’ve seen our wild nights,” Simon said with a smirk. “The most wild we get is changing our sleep spots.”

“Then am I really missing out on anything?” I asked. “I mean, we kinda skipped the whole courting process. Save for being bonded and legally married, there’s not a lot of reason to use those one liners.” 

“Would you really want them anyways?” He asked.

“Not really,” I said after a moment of thought. “I’d rather have this honestly. It’s easier and feels like a more solid foundation than just courting a few weeks then bonding. At least this way, I actually get to know you and John and you get to know me. We’re not strangers just forced together because of our sex organs. . . Even if it did kind of start out that way.”

“Do you like what we have going on?” Simon asked, his fingers working my arch. “This whole situation of us together without the sex organs part?”

“I do. I mean, it helps that I don’t have heats, but I figured before this you and John. . . You know, ‘took care of each other’ for that stuff,” I said, looking down at Simon’s foot as my cheeks heated up a bit. 

“Now what do you mean by that?” Simon asked, snickering as he tickled the sole of my foot a moment. I nearly kicked him in the face as I gasped and glared. 

“Do NOT do that, Simon Riley,” I snapped, jerking my foot back hard. “You know I’m ticklish as hell on my feet! And you know what I mean.”

“I’m going to need you to explain this one to me,” Simon said, giving me a devilish smirk, letting me settle my leg before going back to rubbing my foot. For as serious as he could be sometimes, Simon was a bit of a teaser that would always get me when I wasn’t expecting it.

“You’re seriously making me do this?” I asked with a huff as he wiggled his foot in my hand. “Fine. I assumed before I moved in that you and John. . . Did stuff. . .”

“Like?” Simon asked, egging me on. 

“Like sex, okay?” I grunted, rolling my eyes. “I figured you two had sex with each other before this.”

“Was that so hard?” He asked with a grin. “And yes, for the record we did. Still do when you’re busy with something and we’re alone.”

“What!?” I cried. “How!?”

“Well, when one Alpha and another Alpha love each other VERY much-”

“Oh shut up, I know how sex works,” I said, slapping his calf playfully. “I meant how are you having sex and I’m not noticing?”

“You are surprisingly good at focusing on chores and don’t seem to question us spending a lot of time in the barn with the horses,” Simon said with a chuckle. 

I sat there in stunned silence as Simon grinned at me. It took a moment for me to soak in the realization of how dopey I felt that I had missed that giant indicator. It all added up and I was none the wiser till Simon had to spell it out for me. 

“In case you’re wondering, we made sure that we could work around you till you were ready or if you’d ever be ready,” Simon said, his fingers digging into the ball of my foot to get my attention. 

“Ready? For what?” I asked, suddenly finding myself lost and flustered. 

“You really don’t know how to flirt or have a conversation about this stuff, do you?” He asked as I kept staring at him with a slight frown. 

“About sex? Absolutely not, I was lucky I learned anything from sex ed in school. . . and that’s not what you’re talking about,” I said, groaning as Simon laughed at me finally catching up. “Look, I’m not on the up and up about sex and romance, give me a break.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll be nice,” Simon said with a hum. “But as I was saying, we were working around you. We didn’t want to force anything or make you uncomfortable. That didn’t mean we were going to go celibate though.”

“Understandable, if not reminding me how oblivious I can be sometimes,” I said with a nod. 

“No problem,” Simon said with a hum. “But now I’m curious, have you ever had sex or fooled around before?” He asked.

“Absolutely not,” I said with a snort. “I never understood the appeal of it the way it was shown to me. Rough and claiming, just doing it because of the excuse that it was a base instinct for everyone. I mean, I never wanted to be with someone like that. Someone that only wanted the knot and didn’t care about much else in sex. I’ve read more sex positive books about Omegas and figuring out what worked for them, but I just. . . I didn’t feel safe to experiment with anyone, let alone kiss anyone.”

“Well, if it helps, I know two Alphas who would happily volunteer to help you experiment,” Simon said, raising a brow and smirking. Oh no. Oh fuck no. That was a face of his that I could not look at without blushing because it was plain as day that he was getting ready to get cheeky with John or me. 

“I’m sure you do,” I said, clearing my throat to look away towards the TV. My hands idly kept working his foot, but Simon’s hands were being evil. They slowly slid up my calf and began pulling me towards him. I was determined to ignore him though, sitting up straight and rigid as he managed to pull me halfway into his lap after pulling his own foot away. “Can I help you, sir? I’m trying to watch TV,” I said, as he settled me with my back to his chest, keeping my gaze forward and not on Simon. 

“I just want to give my friend a hug,” he said, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me close to his bare chest. The skin to skin contact felt nice and before I realized it, I was turning my head to scent his chest as I purred. “Have you really never been kissed before?” 

“I mean, by relatives,” I said.

“I meant romantically,” Simon sighed softly, looking down and nosing at my hair. 

“Yeah,” I said, looking up at him. “Never been kissed. Most I’ve done is with you and John by sleeping in the same bed and holding hands.”

“Would you like to be kissed?” He asked. I had to think about that. It was everywhere on TV, in schools with young couples, people on dates, but I didn’t know if I wanted it. 

“What’s it like? Romantically?” I asked, moving to sit in his lap side saddle so I could see him.

“It’s like you’re closer than a hug,” he said, his thumb stroking my arm as he took a moment to think of his words. “It feels nice. It’s as if you’re connecting to the person on a deeper level. It’s hard to describe really.”

“Closer than a hug, but not as close as sex,” I said, trying to help. 

“Basically. It’s something you have to experience for yourself. I know that some of my favorite memories of me and John are us kissing. Just kissing. Nothing leading up to anything, just us curled up together like this and kissing. One time we were in line for a concert in the rain and we did our best to wait it out, but the bar closed it off because they were at capacity,” Simon said, looking at the TV as he remembered the details of that night. He had a smile on his face, a fondness of the story he was telling coming through. “We were mad because we had been in line for so long and were on a short leave between our military work, but after a minute it didn’t matter because the place was quickly shut down for being over crowded. Even if we had made it in, we would have still been kicked out. 

So, we cut our losses and ran back to the truck. We were both soaking wet and it had to be nearly freezing. After we get into the truck and I turn it on, our heavy breathing fogs up the windows so we have to wait for the heat to kick in. John said something about it being a sign, but I just blew it off. He was more cautious back then. We were. . . Hell, I think we were 23 or so when this happened. I asked him what kind of sign it was. He said it was a sign that we were supposed to be together. Apparently concerts getting canceled and freezing rain meant long love signs,” Simon chuckled.

“We got the truck going, we defrosted, so we headed out. We were probably about 10 minutes from home when the truck slid into a ditch. I was going maybe 20 miles an hour, but the curve of the road had us sliding so slowly that we just sat there holding on as we came to a stop. John said it was another sign, I said he was being stupid, but as we were about to pull back out a lorry truck came sliding past us, barely missing the truck then kept going. John and I sat there for nearly half an hour till the rain had stopped and a salt truck drove by. I managed to get us back on the road and made it home safely.”

“Where’s the kiss?” I asked, frowning. I had been waiting for that part specifically. Was it a rain drenched kiss or maybe one by the fireplace where they laid together to warm up? I was invested and needed to know. “You were telling a story about you and John kissing.”

“Was I?” Simon asked, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“You’re a horrible man,” I huffed, rolling my eyes at him. He laughed, shaking his head at me before continuing the story.

“We got home, walked inside, looked at each other for a moment before we held each other close. It was our first real date and our first real brush with death off the battlefield,” Simon said after a few beats of silence. I knew they were retired military, it wasn’t hard to figure that out after seeing dog tags and the gear they had with them. But I never asked about their time in the service or pushed about it. I thought that if they wanted to talk about it, they would. “We kissed each other when we laid in bed, holding on to one another like we might drift away. There had been kisses before, but that one. . . That was our first kiss as a couple. We were together for the first time officially and weren’t hiding it.”

“That’s really sweet,” I said, smiling at him. “It was a relief for you both, then. The kiss, that is. After everything, you could still kiss one another.”

“I guess you’re right,” Simon said, that fondness back in his face. “I kiss him good morning and goodnight every day, but those small moments are my favorite.” 

“I want that,” I said, looking forward as I rested my head on his chest. “Small moments of connection with someone. I want that.”

“That’s something that John and I can offer you, if you want it from us,” Simon said, nuzzling the top of my head. “We want to give you that. We want to be that for you.” 

It was another door to step through, a choice to make on where I wanted this relationship to go. I wanted it. I wanted them. 

Looking up, I nosed at Simon’s cheek as I moved to straddle his lap. We went slow, his arms holding me as I shook a little. Scared and excited as we just shared the same space. 

“I’ve gotcha, Sweetheart,” Simon said softly before he pressed his lips to mine. 

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[darcydarlingdabbles]

Tantalizing Television

RadioApple with a side dish of static - Hazbin Hotel

Explicit: Teasing, jealousy, Vox kinda gets cucked, secretly!est RadioApple, (switches/verses.)

4.5k

//Just so happens I was gonna do this anyway, now it's radioapple week. So it's meant to be right XD first time writing these characters and this ship...and I decided to make it harder on myself. Inspired by an IG Reel by akrcos. So naturally the song is Neon Medusa by The Midnight//

In one of the far wings of the Hazbin Hotel, a translucent form flickered to life in a plush red room. 

The hologram glimmered and Vox smack a hand into his screen. “C’mon ya piece of shit, work.” The overlord grunted, his projected body covered with blue static as it tried to stay solid. 

His flat eyes blinked, before his trademarked grin spread across his square face—Alastor’s dark hotel room finally becoming clear. And Vox was finally inside it.

Technically.

“Let’s see what the pompous ass is hiding.” 

Vox’s projection drifted forward, his half-corporal boots making no sound on the plush crimson carpet. His feet tangled in something on the floor—because he was still getting used to walking without feeling his footsteps—and because the place was a damn mess. 

“So much for a fastidious freak.” Vox snickered to himself, only to hiss out more garbled curses as he reached out to a dresser drawer. His translucent cyan fingers passed through the handle once, twice, before he focused on solidifying just enough to grasp it. 

Thinking he just might spare the projectionist demon who sold him this janky spell, Vox rummaged through the drawer. Looking for anything embarrassing—or juicy—to hold over Alastor’s head. 

Instead, his hand closed around something small and rubbery. 

Vox pulled out a bright yellow duck. 

“What the hell…?” He muttered, in utter confusion, as he uncovered an entire collection of rubber duckies.

The TV demon let out a grunt of frustration, squeezing one of the blasted things in his fist, making his hologram flicker as the toy let out a shrill little squeak. 

“Well well well, what do we have here?” A mocking lilt startled Vox, causing the duckie to go bouncing across the floor. It landed right at the high-heeled boots of the King of Hell himself. 

Lucifer was leaning casually against the four-poster bedframe, arms folded, and a devilishly smug grin on his lips. 

“Ah! Y-your Majesty!” Vox panicked, nearly backing into the dresser drawer he’d just opened. He’d been ready to kick some ass, now he had to prepare to kiss some.

Damn projectionist told him he was going to the room where Alastor spent the most time, not the archangel’s bedroom! 

“An Overlord reduced to snooping through drawers?” Lucifer clicked his tongue, his smile nearly as sharp as Alastor’s. “My my hell really has gone downhill with you guys in charge.” 

Vox felt his signal glitch with panic. 

“Now, I know you’re not stupid enough to try to sabotage my daughter’s hotel with me in it, right?” Lucifer took a few steps forward, and Vox wished his hologram could just vanish into the wall, but he was stuck until the spell ended. 

“No no no Your Highness, I’d never!” Vox said plaintiff, throwing a hands to play up his innocence. “I was just looking for Alastor, you know, old rivals. Messing with each other…ha ha.” 

The truth sounded like a lame excuse when he was saying it to Lucifer. 

“Trying to find him in my room is a little under the belt, don’t you think?” 

“Below the belt…you mean?”

“What did I say?”

“You said this was your room, sire?” Vox demanded, his flat screen head snapping around. “Fucking projectionist piece of shit.” 

The fallen angel’s yellow eyes narrowed on Vox’s form. “You’re using a projectionist, are ya?” Lucifer grinned. “Oh, that’s an old school trick—I with an old weakness.” The angel raised his hand, and snapped his fingers.

“Shit!”

Glowing golden ropes materialized, binding Vox’s projection from chest to ankles, before a flick of the blonde’s wrist sent him flying into the plush chair by the rumpled bed. 

Vox thrashed against his restraints, his shape lagging and distorting where the binds held him. But even his real demonic body would be nothing against pure angelic power. 

“Sir! I mean, I’m doing you a favor.” Vox protested, unable to help himself but trying to gab his way out. “The projectionist—he sent me where Alastor spends the most time in the hotel.”

Lucifer raised his eyebrows, his black lips suddenly pressed into a line—like a toddler with a secret. Vox was too busy pleading to notice. “You realize this means Alastor must have been spying on you, right? So so I’m letting you know! No need to get your feathers in a fluff!” 

“I decide when to fluff myself!” Lucifer snapped back, before making a face. “That sounded wrong, didn’t it?”

Vox opened his mouth, only to have it filled with static.

“Yes, darling, it did.” When a shadow stepped up from the half-lit room.

“Well now, Vox. You’ve gotten yourself into quite a conundrum, haven’t you?” The radio demon’s eyes burned with amusement and his sharp grin grew impossibly wider as he took in the scene. “Delightful to see you stooped so low as to rifle through my rival’s chambers.” 

“Hold the fuck up.” Vox’s screen flashed red. “You’re calling him your rival now?” 

Alastor and Lucifer glanced at each other, the angel’s face giving away more than the radio demon’s ever-present grin. 

Vox was too outraged to notice. “We’ve been at each other’s throats for fucking decades and suddenly this guy waltzes in!” He thrashed against his binds again. “And you’re making enemy goo-goo eyes at each other?!”

Alastor’s glee was practically luminescent. “My my, I did take you for the jealous type. But this, my good man, is a new low.” He leaned forward, arms folded neatly behind his back as the light of Vox’s screen glinted off teeth—and he twisted the knife in. “Though I hardly need to look to the king of hell to find a more interesting company than your static-filled nuisance.” 

“You smug son of a—” Vox leaned against his restraint, ready to bash his monitor into Alastor’s face—when the radio demon was suddenly a safe distance away. 

Lucifer stepped in front of Alastor and stuck a sharp heel squarely into the captive demon’s chest. The hologram flickered, but somehow held, tied in place by the divine rope lashed around him. 

“Watch your tone, buddy boy.” Lucifer gave a contemptuous sneer, about as much as his diminutive form could manage. 

“Now, now. Where are your manners, my friend?” Alastor chided, practically gleaming with sanctimoniousness. He loomed just behind the angel, his red-tipped fingers curling over Lucifer’s shoulders in a way that was almost…no, it couldn’t be. This was Alastor. And Vox knew damn well the radio demon didn’t invite contact. 

“I do adore it when you are ruthless, Your Majesty.” Alastor’s voice had gone smooth, almost purring. 

Vox’s screen flashed, like his circuits couldn’t compute an obvious flirtation from Alastor.

Even if Lucifer’s answering chuckle and the tilt of his head towards the smiling demon brought their faces closer than Vox had ever seen a living being get to his old nemesis. If they were still alive.

“Well now, Alastor, you old dog,” Vox taunted, seeing Alastor’s ears flick with irritation. “If I didn’t know ya better, I’d say ya needed the King of Hell to fight your battles for you now.” 

The radio demon straightened up, stiff as a rod, and Vox knew he’d dug under Alastor’s skin. Lucifer bore his heel further into Vox’s chest. If this projected body could bleed, he might be already. 

“As ever, Vox, I am more than capable of handling you myself.” His smile twitched. “But why get my hands dirty when I can watch the master at work?”

“He’s your master now, huh? Is the untouchable Alastor cozying up to the big boss down stairs?” Vox snapped.

Radio static burst through the room. Alastor answered to no one. And no one would imply otherwise. But, before he could put the demon in his place, the angel in front of him had to go blustering and bleeding heart.

“Listen here, you big piece of shit!” Lucifer glowered, his red pupils disappearing in a terrifying radiance. “Say anything like that again, and I will personally ensure that you spend the rest of eternity in Hell’s deepest, darkest, shittiest sewer. Got it flat face?” 

The angel yanked the captive demon forward, until his projected form was glitching all out of shape. Lucifer, the sweet fool he was, looked up at the smiling demon like a cat that had presented him with a half-dead mouse.

Unfortunately, Alastor loved cats. And dying things.

He had to regain control somehow. And that meant reigning in the devil himself. 

“You say the sweetest things when you’re threatening my enemies.” Alastor’s slender fingers gripped Lucifer’s face, curling deftly around the angel’s chin, and pulling the blonde’s gaze back to him. 

It worked like a charm, perhaps too well. 

Lucifer leaned into the touch, his cheeks impossibly redder, and his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When he opened them again, they were filled with an emotion that even Alastor could not be prepared for. 

Leaving him unguarded for what happened next. 

Lucifer, the sweet fool that he was, surged forward to kiss Alastor. Right in front of a gaping Vox. 

The radio demon should be livid. He made it clear their personal lives were not for public consumption—in any form.

Only for the petite archangel to hold nothing back in his gaze every time their eyes met.

So, why was Alastor melting into the press of lips, regardless of who was watching? 

A shiver ran down Alastor’s spine, taken in by the fierce protectiveness in that kiss. Misguided, clumsy, foolhardy, and vowed to shield him from harm with everything he had.

Which would be just lovely, if Alastor didn’t have to consider the crumbling reputation he’d just glued back together.

But, when his red eyes found Vox, already wearing a brilliant smile like he meant to expose this level of affection all along—he saw something he should have expected. 

The television demon’s eyes widened in shock, circuits buzzing with disbelief. His screen went blank like he’d overload, until the color blocked test pattern displayed the words ‘please stand by.’ Like his entire system had to reboot. 

He’d stunned the picture box—and that, the radio demon could work with.

“What the fuck, Alastor?” Vox crackled, outrage written over his features. “You don’t like being touched! Isn’t that your whole damn shtick?”

Crimson eyes slid to Vox with barely concealed loathing. Alastor tutted, lips curling in a mocking sneer. Soaking in that glorious, irrational, jealousy.

“Oh, I don’t.” Alastor said simply, turning a softer smile to Lucifer, knowing the Overlord was watching with wrapt attention. “Not by just anyone, and particularly not by you, Vox.” 

Vox’s screen fritzed again, eyes flashing with fury. 

“Oh-ho, I know that green-eyed monster when I see it~” Lucifer taunted in a sing-song voice. His hand tightened around Alastor’s waist. 

“This all started with your silly little obsession, did it not?” Alastor mused with a dark chuckle. And the radio demon, utterly amused with this revelation from his rival, leaned in to the assumption. “When did you realize your propositions to have me on your team turned into utterly pathetic advances?”

“Cocky fucking bastard!” Vox’s voice distorted and crackled. “Don’t act so high and mighty! You just found a higher power to whore yourself out to!” The Vox hologram rocked violently against its bindings, wild with jealous rage, somehow even more deranged and unhinged without a corporeal form to ground it.

Static burst throughout the room, lights flickering and shadows distorting. As Alastor’s smile stayed perfectly in place. 

The radio demon leaned forward, teeth glinting with pure malice as he tapped his microphone against Vox’s screen, making the cyan distortion appear again.

“If you think it wise to spread gossip about me, by way of blackmailing Our King…on your head, be it.” He said in a sadistic purr. “No one will believe a thing you saw here.” 

Over his shoulder, he felt his shadows banished. Lucifer had his back with a flash of divine light and power. 

And nothing felt better than rubbing salt into Vox’s wounded ego.

Alastor reached out a clawed hand, pressing the tip of a nail into the hologram’s chest. The projection wavered and warped under his touch, but still provided a just hint of resistance. 

“Then again, this isn’t really you, is it?”

He felt Lucifer’s hand tighten at his waist. “It’s a hell projection dear, “ he explained, his voice amused. “Meant to torture sinners by allowing them to touch, but never be touched in return.” 

“Oh.” Alastor’s ears perked up. “How inspiringly cruel.” 

He straightened up, shooting Lucifer a wicked smile, before he grabbed the shorter man by the lapels, and shoved the angel back into Vox’s lap. 

Both men appeared completely taken aback.

Vox’s screen glitched between showing his two-dimensional eyes wide with excitement and indignation.

“Al, you sure about this?” Lucifer’s face was painted with the same shock, but with a bit of delight curling his lips. Wondering if the radio demon was serious. 

Alastor caught his eye with a smirk. His long nimble fingers making quick work of the buttons, revealing the scarlet dress shirt and black suspenders underneath—shedding his coat entirely and tossing it onto the bed. 

Vox had never seen Alastor in a scrap less of clothing before, and those slim shoulders and narrow waist made something hot and hungry twist in his gut. 

Lucifer was already reaching for the demon, knowing this was the signal that his partner wanted to be handled. 

  Alastor moved to straddle the King of Hell with his long legs, caging his rival overlord as well, while he captured the angel’s mouth in a searing kiss. 

Lucifer groaned against his lips. 

“I can still fucking see you sick perverts!” Vox snarled, face burning with humiliated fury. 

Vox was having a conniption. Since when did Alastor let anyone touch him, let alone paw at him and his immaculate clothes? But here the radio demon was, sitting astride Lucifer’s lap, and kissing him like he wanted to devour him. 

Alastor tsked, wagging a chiding finger as he nuzzled against Lucifer’s cheek with a rumbling purr. 

Vox watched Lucifer’s hand slide down the demon’s waist, gripping his hips to pull him in even closer.

Alastor’s low chuckle met the gesture, that clawed hand grabbing the chair behind the other demon’s head. As he lifted his hips and rolled them against Lucifer’s. 

Through his eyelids, Alastor could see Vox’s screen flashing and flickering, a sound of disgust—and abject envy hitting the deer demon’s ears. 

Though his delight at Vox’s outrage was shriveling in comparison to the familiar delight of Lucifer’s hands on him. He’d never wanted for touch, never felt so starved without it, until the first time he’d felt the angel’s lips on his own. Now, he was always famished.

“Get off me, you sick fucks!” Vox snarled, struggling against his bonds as he tried to buck them off.

With a sharp intake of breath, Lucifer pulled away from the kiss. A sly grin played on his lips as he cast a fleeting glance at the flat screen mounted behind him. “Voxy might not really be here.” he purred, his hands sliding up along Alastor’s torso, hooking into the black suspenders he wore, and the demon let himself be pulled forward. Just to see the TV glitch. “But I can feel him getting hard.” 

The television behind Lucifer flashed a brilliant, blushing red and Alastor laughed at this tantalizing little tidbit. 

He leaned in, his forehead pressed to the angel’s as he murmured. “What a shame I cannot be recorded…” he taunted, his lips drawn over the angels with pure want and sweetness that he gave to no one else. “I suppose you shall have to commit it to memory.” 

“Fuck you both,” Vox growled, his projection flickering with impotent rage. Practically frothing at the mouth. Because beneath the anger and the jealousy—was the shameful desire. The longing to be touched and wanted by Alastor the way Lucifer was. 

“Oh, you wish chatter box.” The angel snorted, only to have the radio demon’s claws pull his attention back. 

“No, I—” Vox couldn’t even get the protest out of his mouth. It was…he couldn’t be jealous of Lucifer? Or Alastor…Or…both. 

He didn’t know anymore, and that was the greatest torture of all. 

The two seemed too lost in each other to give much of a damn about him. 

“Darling~” Alastor purred, moving to stand with as much grace as he could manage in this state. Causing two breaths to hitch. “I think…we need some privacy. Don’t you?”

“Mm, couldn’t agree more.” Lucifer’s eyes sparkled as he stood and ran his hands up Alastor’s chest, finding his tie and undoing it with deft fingers. Before pulling his collar to bring him back nose to nose. “I want you all to myself.” 

A full-body shudder rippled through the lean demon at the intimate words and touch. They’d been playing a game of teasing, hardly doing anything more heavy than petting—but it seemed Lucifer was ready for more than just a little light handling. 

The angel’s fingers slipped into Alastor’s hair, tilting his head back and leaving a searing trail down his neck, popping open the collar of his shirt in his wake. 

Exposing more of his skin than Alastor intended. 

“P-Perhaps we shouldn’t give our...captive audience too much of a peep show,” Alastor managed, static crackling around the words. 

Lucifer pulled back, reading something through Alastor’s stiff smile. “Oh, Al—!”

The demon pressed his pointed fingers to the angel’s lips, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Clumsy as ever, but affectionately honest. And Alastor wanted to kiss the apology off of his lips.

“You can’t just leave me here!” Vox’s screen flickered and glitched, his useless hands clenching at his side. “While you go off and—”

Vox couldn’t even finish the thought, his mind rebelling at the images that flashed before his eyes. Alastor and Lucifer, tangled together in the sheets, their bodies moving as one. Alastor’s head thrown back in ecstasy, Lucifer’s name falling from his lips like a prayer.

The real men in front of them were leaning into each other again, like they couldn’t surface from each other long enough to care that Vox was here. 

Alastor nipped at Lucifer’s ear, voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur only they could hear. A thrilled laugh spilled from the fallen angel at whatever filthy suggestion was offered.

“You’re a singularly wicked thing,” he praised, squeezing Alastor’s hip meaningfully. “Wouldn’t dream of denying you.”

With a casual flick of one hand, the glowing angelic bindings holding Vox constricted suddenly, forcing his projection into an awkward, hunched position on the chair. 

Alastor smirked at the muffled noise of frustration.

Alastor sauntered over to where Vox’s bound projection fought against its ethereal bonds. He tsked in mock disappointment, crouching down to meet those twinkling electronic eyes, seeing how they darted to the open collar of his shirt. 

And how the rope criss-crossed his screen, gagging Vox at last. 

“Such unbecoming behavior from an esteemed colleague,” he chided, all velvet and menace. “Though I can’t say I’m surprised—you were always dreadfully uncouth.”

Vox’s screen flashed furiously, the test pattern barely holding. Alastor watched the frantic display with undisguised relish.

“No witty comebacks? No desperate pleas?” He feigned a pout. “Disappointing. Then again, you always are.” 

Straightening, Alastor’s microphone staff materialized in one hand with a crackle of static. He gave it an experimental twirl, grinning madly.

“It’s just a shame you won’t be able to feel yourself burning in the lake of fire.” With an oddly graceful sweep of the staff, a swirling vortex sparked to life at their feet—a hellish portal yawning open. Searing brimstone fumes billowed forth, carrying the roar of raging flames. 

“Do enjoy the sight of your flesh melting though, ta-ta!” Alastor gave a teasing wave as Vox’s projection was lashed with his shadow tentacles, and dragged into the fiery pit itself. 

Lucifer watched the whole display with rapt amusement from the bed, crimson eyes glittering. As Alastor turned back towards him, snapping away the vortex with a casual flick, the fallen angel reclined with unabashed hunger written across his handsome features.

“I do love it when you do you evil, Al.” The angel grinned, popping onto his boots. “It’s hot as hell.” 

Alastor rolled his eyes at the terrible pun, but couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped him. The man wore his heart on his sleeve to an embarrassing extent. 

What made Alastor find it so inexplicably pleasing?

“Then you must be perpetually hot and bothered. Sounds like a terrible state of affairs to be in.”

“Not one you can relate to, huh?” Lucifer grinned, wrapping his arms around Alastor’s tapered waist.

The taller demon ducked, smirking only broader when he stayed just out of the reach of the Lucifer’s lips, to the King’s visible frustration. 

“I may relate, as of late.” 

That was all the shorter man needed to reach up and grab Alastor in for another kiss. 

“I can help with that.” Lucifer offered sweetly, pointed fingers curling into the radio demon’s hair to demand a deeper kiss.

Lucifer, with a level of gracelessness that was miraculous for an angel, pushed Alastor back onto his rumpled bed.

The slender radio demon's body relaxed into the mattress, his long legs splayed indignantly—so he thought. Though there was no hint of mirth in his lover’s yellow eyes.

Lucifer was already on top of him, forked tongue sliding past his lips with desperate need.

Alastor felt Lucifer's sharp teeth glided along his jaw, marking a trail of small kisses down his length of neck.“Impatient, are we?” Alastor attempted a tease, but his ever-practiced voice faulter under the angel’s undaunted enthusiasm.

“Oh, honey. I know how getting one over on someone gets you going.” He lifted his head, only to waggle those damn eyebrows. “Do you want me to slow down?”

Lesiurely, Lucifer made a scorching path down the demon’s chest and torso, pushing apart his blood red shirt inch by inch.

“Fuck you.” Alastor gripped at his golden blonde hair, trying to shove his head down further.

Lucifer resisted the force like a tiger swatted by a house cat—sending another thrill down the demon’s spine.

The angel was pausing to swirl his tongue into the grooved indents of lean muscle and hipbones. Lucifer’s clever mouth worked lower still—until finally he freed Alastor’s hard cock and enveloped him in the welcoming heat of the angel’s mouth.

The radio demon arched up from the bed with a strangled cry of static, clawing at the crimson sheets as Lucifer’s mischievous skills swiftly robbed him of breath and higher cognition. Alastor’s legs fell open wider as debauched sounds hissed from between his teeth. 

Lucifer hummed his approval around his mouthful, that damned tongue of his flicking ceaslessly as he sucked Alastor down.

The demon was already trembling under him. Too damn easily.

Only when Alastor’s sounds reached a true crescendo of desperation did Lucifer finally pull back with a filthy pop.

“My, my...it seems the great Alastor turns quite tame with just a little bit of attention,” Lucifer purred, sinuously licking his lips clean.

“Consider yourself fortunate that pride flatters you, darling.” Alastor snarled hoarsely, eyes burning crimson and fangs bared as radio noise crackled around him.

With a snap of Alastor fingers, their clothes vanished, only to appear folded neatly on the nearby chair.

Lucifer quirked a brow as Alastor reached down to hastily prep himself. The radio demon’s long fingers deftly worked, slicking himself with conjured lubricant.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” Alastor growled out the demand. 

Lucifer’s grin stretched wider, all too eager to oblige.

He surged up to capture that snarling mouth in a hungry, devouring kiss. Pinning Alastor’s wiry body back against the bed, careful to align perfectly with the demon’s entrance—before snapping forward in a brutal thrust.

Alastor threw his head back with a guttural groan of blissful torment.

Static discharged in a blistering wave, scattering signals and causing lights to flicker in their room. The radio demon’s slender fingers scrabbled for purchase, digging into Lucifer’s back as his legs wrapped vice-tight around the angel’s powerful body.

Lucifer leaned in close, to the constant rumble coming from the demon’s stretched lips.

“Growl for me all you like, my dear,” he purred darkly. “I know exactly what you need.”

Lucifer set a punishing pace—plunging into Alastor’s willing warmth over and over.

The demon keened brazenly beneath him. Clinging with a desperation that belied centuries of scheming and solitude, finally crumbling to primal need.

Their power swirled and clashed in wild waves.

Alastor’s shadows swirled and snarled, his eyes burning bright in the room's dark as he fought to keep them open, his teeth gnashed together.

Lucifer’s vast angelic grace responded—six resplendent wings unfurling in stark juxtaposition—keeping Alastor’s demonic power in eclipsed beneath him.

The angel groaned deep in his chest at that exquisite sight his tightly buttoned partner made when he finaly let go. He drank it in with reverence.

And that undeniable dominant power shattered the last strand of Alastor’s restraint.

He came with a harsh cry, clenching to the angel’s cock as he came. Making a mess of them both, knowing that was exactly what Lucifer wanted before he was spent inside Alastor.

Lucifer panted harshly, sweat beading his brow as the pleasure rolled through him.

For long moments, they simply clung together, chests heaving and hearts pounding violently.

Lucifer nuzzled into the crook of Alastor’s neck, relishing their closeness, the scent and taste of his lover’s bliss. He felt utterly sated, lethargic in the most delicious way.

Alastor panted still, almost silently, arm thrown over his face as he attempted to compose himself. Hiding his mouth as he drew ragged breaths.

But when at last Lucifer made to pull away, shadowy tendrils lashed around his waist, refusing to let him go.

Alastor whimpered faintly as he drew the fallen angel back down atop him, long limbs winding around Lucifer to keep him nestled close.

The blonde chuckled, the sound warm with fond amusement as he happily settled in the circle of Alastor’s embrace.

Trailing reverent touches along those deceptively delicate features, he murmured, “My sweet little deer demon...”

A ragged growl vibrated low in Alastor’s chest at the endearment. But there was no real threat behind it as he clung to Lucifer—soaking up every caress, every brush of affection in still, sated bliss.

When Lucifer’s fingers carded through his disheveled hair, he even leaned subtly into the intimate touch like a cat being stroked.

“Hush now,” Lucifer purred, placing a soft kiss to Alastor’s brow. “Let me take care of you...”

Alastor’s only response was a halfhearted grumble as he tucked his face into the curve of Lucifer’s neck, content to let the former archangel dote on him.

Just for now.

[jokeroutsubs]

Interview with Joker Out's member Nace Jordan, from Slovenian magazine Kranjčanka!

"Enriched by a special experience"

We caught up with Nace Jordan, bassist of Joker Out, a week or so after the Eurovision show in Liverpool, a few days after the show in Zagreb, and just before they left for the show in Dublin, where they sold out their first show in twenty minutes… On stage, they kept company to the Irish performers.

The fact that this guy, who is otherwise from Mlaka (T.N: small village near Kranj), is fully booked, can be confirmed by telling you that he moved into a new flat in March of this year - he has been living in Ljubljana for some time now - but he has spent less than 14 days there until it was time for the Eurovision Song Contest. He still returns to Kranj at least twice a week to visit his mother and to stay true to himself: he decided to get a personal trainer a while ago, so now he also goes to Kranj to train there.

Nace Jordan came into contact with music in primary school. He first played the guitar, which he soon replaced with the bass guitar. "Around the fifth grade of primary school (T.N: 10-11 years old), I became interested in instruments and a classmate and I decided to start a music group. He bought a drum set and I bought an electric guitar. Then we quickly saw that there were no bass players. So I sold the guitar and bought a bass guitar," he explains. He has no formal musical training, but says he has been lucky that wherever he has gone in life, there has always been a good mentor who has been able to guide him.

I: How long did this primary school group last?

N: In those days it was a well-known Kranj band called Success. We did a lot of gigs. It's interesting that all the band members from that time are now living off music. They are, for example, the guitarist Nejc Ušlakar, Tajda Jovanović - also from Mlaka - who is a top classical singer and used to sing at the famous Scala in Milan; if I am not mistaken, she is now teaching classical singing in Dubai. We just created an environment for ourselves and stayed in music. The drummer and keyboard player, Aljaž Bernik and Miha Petrovič, have, for example, a very successful wedding band, called Pop Deluxe.

I: What came after primary school? (* (T.N: In Slovenia, primary school lasts for 9 years, from ages 6-15)

N: I enrolled at the then Iskra University, majoring in mechatronics, but just before graduation I started working - actually playing on a cruiser. By some chance I found myself at a jam session open mind in Kranj, where the Kranj drummer Rok Rozman was looking for someone to go on the boat with him. He was impressed with me, I auditioned and of course they weren't very happy at home when I confronted them with the fact that I was going to take my final exams the following year. I was just 18 years old.

I: Was that a cruise ship?

N: Yes. We were travelling in the Baltic Ocean. I remember that we started in Germany, in a port north of Hamburg, then continued on to Gdansk, St Petersburg and to the Scandinavian countries.

l: That was probably the only time you've been on a cruise ship of that kind, a tourist cruise ship?

I've had a lot of people ask me if I would ever go on holiday on a cruise ship. Probably not. But I would go and have another look at the one I played on.

I: When you came back to Slovenia, did you graduate from high school? N: I didn't and I still regret it a little bit. When I came back from the ship, I started working with the singer Katarina Malo. During that time, I was also taken under the wing of two musicians from Primorska (T.N.: a region in the South-Western part of Slovenia) - that's what I mentioned: I found myself somewhere and then a mentor came along. I learned a lot from them. They were David Morgan and Denis Beganovic - Kiki. The first one is a top jazz drummer from the coastal area, he organises a lot of stuff, and he also plays with Avtomobili (T.N. slovenian band), I think he even played with Plestenjak (T.N. Jan Plestenjak, a famous Slovenian pop singer) at one point. Whereas Kiki is a multi-instrumentalist. He's an extraordinary talent. He has worked with Kanzyani and other famous DJs and musicians from abroad. He has made a lot of music, and he also led the Big Band from the coastal region. That was a really nice period for me. I even moved to the coastal region for a short period.

I: Why music, why not football?

N: Certainly not football (laughs). It's the sport I'm least talented in, or rather, all ball sports fall into that context - be it table tennis or football; and, even though my surname is Jordan, I'm the worst basketball player in the world (laughs). Just two days ago, I met my first grade teacher, and of course the topic of music and Eurovision came up. She told me that she knew even back then that school was not for me, but that I would definitely do something creative in my life. It brought back memories of how bored I was at school and how I would rather draw under my desk than listen, even though I was not a bad student.

I: You haven't been a member of Joker Out for long.

N: Since last year. Martin Jurkovič, the original bass player, felt at some point that music was not his main path. He is also an extremely talented programmer and is studying in that direction. He wants to study abroad and decided to finish that chapter. I knew the lead singer of the band, Bojan, from some mutual friend groups before, and the guys were looking for someone who was around their age, professional, good at what they do, and they thought of me. And Martin was in favour of me coming into the group instead of him.

I: And did you imagine that the band would continue the way it did?

N: From the beginning I went into the band with a bit of hesitation. I even suggested a test period. I had learnt that there has to be chemistry between the members. And if we didn't get along with each other the way we do, we wouldn't have performed on the Eurovision stage. We would have had a fight otherwise.

I: Do you spend a lot of time together?

N: First there were the Eurovision showcase concerts, and now there is the summer concert tour in Slovenia. We also have quite a few problems, because we get a lot of calls from abroad. It's logistically difficult, so we're looking for a solution to link some of the concerts to the tour. After the Eurovision Song Contest, we really started to get noticed abroad.

I: Was this your first Eurovision Song Contest?

N: Yes. But I have been to EMA (slovenian national selection for ESC) several times before.

I: Was it as you imagined it would be?

N: Even better. I can say that everyone who has been through this kind of experience has told us that it will be really tough: there will be a lot of work, but that we should also expect crazy parties. But in the end, it was much less exhausting than we expected. In fact, we had such a busy schedule beforehand that Eurovision itself was almost easier for us afterwards. We were practically in the Arena for five days, the rest was socialising, interviews and other commitments. In principle, we like that.

I: You seemed to be well received.

N: We were lucky enough to have connected with practically all the performers. We were always in a good mood, which was seen and felt both in the performances and in the interviews, during the statements. We came home really enriched by a special experience. And it was really nice to see how the people at home supported us. After the first semi-final, we got some footage of how they were watching us and we were just amazed how behind Bežigrad (Ljubljana district), let's say, they watched the first semi-final show in an organised way. The energy was crazy, like at a match.

I: What about Liverpool? Was there any time to "play tourists"?

N: During Eurovision, not really. We were in Liverpool before, because we were shooting a video. I think it was after Barcelona, and we did a lot of walking around the city then. For those who like the Beatles, Liverpool is great.

I : How did it come about that you went to Eurovision in the first place?

N : When I came into the group, the guys and I immediately started talking about whether we would go to this year's EMAs. We decided to go. We knew we would definitely be one of the favourites because we have a really big and extremely loyal audience. Well, then the EMA didn't happen. The jury decided to make their own choice, from the five entries who had the most songs of the week during that year. And I think only two of us ended up applying. There was no EMA, and they sent us to Liverpool.

I: You mostly use Slovenian in your songs.

N: Of course. We have a few songs in English, but we mostly sing in Slovenian. We were talking about how we would work going forwards, and we agreed not to bother with the language. We are proud of our Slovenian language. It's really something beautiful when you see an adult Peruvian man or a five-year-old Spanish girl singing our song in Slovenian. In that moment you understand the athletes and you are proud to be Slovenian.

I: How is it on the street? Do people recognise you? You often hear: is that the bass player of Joker Out?

N: Yes, quite. Most of the time it's people who say something nice to you, or want a selfie. Of course, there are also some "admirers" who stick gum all over my car or leave messages. There's a good side and a bad side to being a public personality. Sometimes it requires of you to spend three hours taking photos - but if you enjoy doing something, that's not a problem either.

I: Do you think that it is actually the fact that you get along well in a group that "pulls" in the audience?

N: The energy between us is definitely something that is contagious. I don't know if it's what makes the audience really like us, but it's something that puts even someone who is in a bad mood in a good mood.

Translation by @kurooscoffee (jokeroutsubs). DO NOT REPOST!

[randomanimehoe]

Yurio x Reader who grew up in agriculture. Part 2!

Part 2

Alrighty everyone I’m back with round two of this post. Since y’all seemed to like it I made a part two! Enjoy :3

Description: Yurio attempts to help with farm chores: it doesn’t go well

One day during the off season you and Yuri made plans for him to come visit your family. After settling in for a few days you tell Yuri that you have chores to take care of due to the fair coming up. Out of curiosity (and not wanting to be left alone with your dad who barely spoke) he decided to join you.

he didn’t know what he was getting into 

Wasn’t expecting to be woken up at the ass crack of dawn but you know, he wanted to help. He would slowly get dressed and trudge into the kitchen to find you waiting with a hot cup of coffee for him- which he down’s gratefully 

After y’all head to the barn to feed the animals. He watched with great interest as you show him the clipboard of the different nutritional needs of all the different animals and is amazed at how fast you prepare the feed. Seriously he’s only mixed up the feed for one horse and you’ve already fed 4! 

Once the horses are fed the both of you bring hay out to the cattle(he struggles lifting the bales)

Finally it’s time for his least favorite animals: chickens

He’s hesitant to enter the chicken coop. He says it smells…

He’s actually afraid of your larger laying hen Bethany who chased him around the day he arrived

You laugh and tell him to quite whining. 

He’s shaking as he’s filling the feeder and cleaning the water dish.

You roll your eyes and collect the eggs.

Once morning chores are done it’s time for breakfast and oh boy he has never been so hungry. (I think he normally has a very small, light breakfast because of skating. )

You both go inside to find your mother and sister setting the table with trays of eggs, bacon, French toast and fruit. You have to drag him to go wash up because he’s standing there with him mouth open, practically drooling. You can bet that once he finally gets to get he practically chokes with how fast he’s eating…

The day isn’t over yet though.

After breakfast it’s time to tend to the family garden while your dad takes care of the larger fields of feed corn he’s growing. Even still, that family garden is a lot bigger than Yuri anticipated….

Still he has fun weeding. The both of you make it into a game of who can pull the most weeds within a certain time period. You guys just repeat that until all the weeds are gone which takes about an hour. 

After that you divide and conquer with the watering: he does the smaller plants with the watering can while you handle the larger ones with the garden hose.

It’s not time to harvest anything yet so you guys are done with that for the day. 

Now it’s time to work your show steer and after exercise a few horses before turning the rest out.

This is the part that Yuri is excited for!

You catch your steer and show Yuri how to lead him around as well as the basics of showmanship. He drinks in every word you say about body composition, weight, muscle, behavior etc. Congratulations you now have a wannabe 4H kiddo

He gets a little sad though when he learns that the steers get sold to market. (Please give him a hug he’s in tears)

To cheer him up you decide to show him the horses and honestly he’s a little scared of them at first, they’re just so big-

You notice this and hand him a chunk of apple to give to your horse, showing him to hold his hand flat. He chuckles when he feels how soft the muzzle is and perks right up. 

Should I make a part 3?