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lotusbxtch · 2 months ago

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Ocean's Gold - An Offering of Frith story

Pairing: Jack Daniels / Agent Whiskey x f!Reader Word Count: 6.4k Rating: Explicit - 18+ ADULTS ONLY, MDNI Frith Challenge god: Ægir

Summary: Jack Daniels, retired from the Statesmen, signs you on as the business partner for his new brewpub. Sparks fly, and you wonder if it could ever be more.

Tags/warnings: Tags/warnings: alcohol (beer) is a major part of the story, consumption of food & alcohol, a sprinkling of angst, fingering (f receiving), oral (f and m receiving), protected PIV, Jack is an absolute consent king & safe sex advocate, semi-public sex (1 scene), absolute tooth-rotting fluff (these two are SO CUTE). Reader has she/her pronouns and identifies as female, has a name (not including it yet to keep it a surprise!) and some backstory but otherwise there are no physical details included - it's you, darling! (psssst: 2 other P boys make a guest appearance!)

a/n: This is my (belated) entry for @perotovar's Offering of Frith Challenge. My P boy/Norse god combo was Jack Daniels & Ægir. This is actually my first time writing Jack! It was such a fun challenge, and although I was honestly initially scared that I bit off more than I could chew, I ended up loving what I've written. I hope you do too! (See the afterword for more details on Ægir and other nods to Norse mythology/traditions that I sprinkled in!) Thank you Erin for hosting this challenge, and @for-a-longlongtime for being my cheerleader, beta reader, and telling me over and over that I could do this! Moodboard by @perotovar, dividers by @saradika-graphics.

Just breathe, you got this.

You straighten out your outfit in the mirror in an attempt to quell your nerves. Dark jeans, espresso leather lace up boots, cropped well-worn Fleetwood Mac graphic tee, and your favorite blood red blazer. You swipe on a matching red lip, nod at yourself in the mirror, and leave your apartment to walk down to the brewery.

The 3 block-long walk gives you time to review what you learned about the business opportunity. Jack was a recently-retired government operative who inherited a large sum of money and wanted to use it to open a brewpub. A smart businessman already, he knew that in order for his brewpub to be successful - regardless of how good his beer was - he needed to have a damn good pub restaurant, too. Which is why you’re swinging open the brewpub’s doors on a mild fall evening, CV in hand: as it turns out, you were looking for your next culinary opportunity. After working in a number of prestigious kitchens, you itched for the opportunity to build something of your own, something homey that you could be proud of. This position is exactly the kind of project you hoped for.

You step into the building, the interior clearly unfinished, but with good structure to it - high vaulted ceilings, good natural lighting, and two levels. Three, if you count the brewery on the floor below you to the left, where you could see the tops of large brewing fermentation vessels.

“Hello?” you call out into the barebones building, looking around for signs of life.

“I’ll be there in a jiffy!” you hear from someone below you, presumably Jack. In a moment, you see him emerge from the staircase leading to the brewing area, and you feel your breath catch in your throat.

Holy hell, you didn’t know he was THIS hot.

Walking towards you was easily one of the most handsome men you’ve ever set eyes on. Tall, incredibly broad-shouldered, and golden-skinned, Jack sauntered up to you wearing a white t-shirt stretched across his chest, dark jeans, black Wellingtons, and a belt with - is that a whiskey flask buckle?

“Rán, I assume?” Jack broke into a wide smile, offering up his hand. You shook it firmly, reveling in the warmth of Jack’s hand and how it dwarfed yours. Keeping your eyes locked to Jack’s amber ones, you returned his smile and nodded.

“It’s so nice to meet you in person, Jack,” you said, taking another glance around the interior. “The place has good bones.”

“That is does,” Jack responds, looking around as well. “I have high hopes for this place. And you seemed like the perfect person to hook up with to get it done.”

Your eyes bug out for a moment before you can school your face, but the heat starts creeping up your neck anyway. I’m sure he didn’t mean it that way…

“Oh, hell,” Jack sputters, “That’s not what I meant! I… dagnabbit, I’m already blowing it…” He runs his hand through his dark brown waves, thoroughly embarrassed. “I meant to partner with. On this business venture.” Jack looked at you, face flushed, eyes pleading. You couldn’t help but let out the giggles coming from your chest.

“Hardly blown, but maybe we can have some of that beer you promised me and start over?” you suggest, tilting your head towards the brewery. Jack looked relieved and nodded in agreement.

“Follow me, darlin’, and I’ll take you to my mad scientist lab,” he says as he motions towards the staircase. Following his broad frame (good god, those shoulders are so wide) down the steps, you emerge in the brewery, the heart of the business. Gleaming stainless steel fermentation tanks tower above, the immaculate floor wet, looking recently sanitized. The smell of malted barley and herbaceous hops permeates the air, and the brewery area is compact yet efficient. Everything looks perfectly kempt, a testament to how much Jack cares about his beer. On a wall hook near the entrance hung a black leather jacket and a black Stetson cowboy hat. You notice a small farmhouse table set up nearby the office area with two glasses set atop.

He set this up just for us?

Your eyes meet Jack’s, your mouth a bit ajar, and he smirks, pulling out a chair for you like a real southern gentleman. “Think I wouldn’t pull out all the stops for my hopefully-soon-to-be business partner?” You sit, and he walks to the carbonation room to fetch his brew of choice. Returning with the deep brown glass growler, Jack raises it towards you in offering. You nod, pushing your glass closer and he pours the liquid within out. A pale golden beer flows into your glass, creamy foam gathering on the surface. He pours himself some, then sits down at the other end of the table.

“This is somethin’ I’ve been workin’ on for the grand openin’,” he explains, motioning to the beer. “It’s a farmhouse ale, what’s usually referred to as a saison. I’m callin’ it Ocean’s Gold. I want it to be the flagship brew. Please, try it and let me know what you think.” Your eyes flick to the glasses, and then with a small smile, you bring it up to your lips and drink. The beer is full-bodied, malty but light, with citrus and peppery notes dancing across your tongue. The finish is dry, resulting in a beer that’s incredibly drinkable and refreshing.

“Holy cow, Jack,” you breathe out, astounded at his skills. “That’s so delicious. You’re one hell of a brewmaster.”

Jack chuckles, grinning warmly. “Why thank you, sugar,” he croons, making the heat rise up the back of your neck again. Damn those Southern nicknames, you think to yourself, willing your nerves to calm. “Hopefully I’m as good of a brewer as you are a chef. I’ve been askin’ around, and word on the street is that you’re one of the best and hardest working chefs people have worked with.”

“Well, that’s high praise,” you reply, “but I’m glad to hear it. I pride myself on my work ethic and food is my first love, as it seems like brewing is for you. What sort of place do you want the brewpub to be?”

Jack contemplates his answer. You see his face get more serious, but nothing but passion shines from his eyes when they lift to yours. “First and foremost, aside from serving up the best beer this side of the Rockies, I want this place to be ingrained in the community.” You sip your beer as Jack continues. “This place has given me so much, and I want to give back. I want a place where everyone feels welcome, ya know? Whether they want to share a pint with a friend, get a bite to eat with loved ones, or meet new people who share their love of good food and beer, I want them to feel at home.”

A wistful look passes over Jack’s face, and he pauses to meet your eyes again. “Now, I don’t wanna overload you with too many details, but this part is pretty important to me, and I wanna make sure that whatever business partner I end up with is on the same page.” You nod, encouraging him to continue. “Now, when I was growing up, my family didn’t have the most to live on. A lot of times we went hungry, and it was only through the kindness of strangers that we got to eat then. I have this idea for a ‘pay it forward’ type meal program. Folks can come in, pay $5, $10 for a prepaid meal ticket. We’d put those paid vouchers up somewhere and if someone is hungry and doesn’t have the money to pay, they can take one of those vouchers and we’d give ‘em a hearty meal, free of charge.”

Jack takes a breath and closes his eyes for a moment, then looks back over at you. You can feel your heart ache for this man who clearly had to work hard to be where he’s at, now wanting to share his wealth with those less fortunate than him. You try to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Jack, that’s… incredible,” you finally get out. This degree of selflessness wasn’t common in business owners in the circles you existed in. “I’d be honored to help you make that dream a reality.”

“Is that you sayin’ you’ll saddle up with me, sugar?” Jack looks at you with hope in his eyes. Your heart leaps, and you try to calm it down as you nod affirmatively. This is a business deal, your brain warns your heart. It beats fast anyway.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Jack beams, excitement rippling off his body. “Can’t wait to build this place up together.”

You grab the growler and fill your and Jack’s glasses, raising yours to his. “Cheers to a fruitful new partnership.” Your smile reflects Jack’s, and you both drink up.

The next 9 months are a whirlwind of activity. After your official business documents were drawn up and signed, you and Jack worked night and day to get the brewpub ready for the following summer. You designed the interior, fitting the place with warm dark wood and brassy golden fixtures. Chic firepits dotted the outdoor patio in the back. You included subtle oceanic iconography wherever you could – the sea was a huge inspiration for the both of you. Jack worked tirelessly on a signature lineup of beer, as well as a couple of seasonal offerings to add variety. Meanwhile, you toiled in the kitchen, experimenting with flavor profiles and dishes until you’d perfected your menu. You laughed and joked as you worked together, getting to know each other’s backstories as well as each other’s preferred workstyles. You talked and dreamed, debated and sometimes argued - after all, both of you were stubborn - but always worked things out. You kept him on his toes, and he kept you grounded.

Oftentimes, you and Jack used each other as taste testers, knowing the both of you would give honest feedback. On one particular evening in the late winter, you were sitting at the half-finished bar, sipping on a trial seasonal amber ale that Jack fermented in whiskey barrels.

“I never asked you where you got your name from, darlin’,” Jack mused, taking a gulp of his beer afterwards. “It’s quite unusual.”

“Ahh yes,” you responded, a smirk turning up your lips. “That would be thanks to my literary professor grandmother. She specialized in studying mythology texts from around the globe. Rán is the Norse sea goddess of death.” You saw Jack’s eyebrows twitch upwards in surprise, and you chuckled a bit before continuing. “That sounds intense, but she is also seen as the caretaker of those who die at sea. She helps care for them until they are ready to move on to the next realm. My grandmother wanted me to be tough, suffer no fools, but to also be kind and care for those that need it.”

Jack huffs in amusement. “Sounds just like you. She did a good job with that name.”

You smile, swirling your glass in thought. You look up at him, but his warm chocolate eyes are already on you, a flicker of something in them that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Jack?” you start. “There’s something I wanted to ask you about the ‘giving back’ part of the business.” You take a deep breath, your true passion project in your mind. “A long time ago, when I was much younger and just starting my culinary journey, I worked at an assisted living home, specifically for those with Alzheimer’s disease. It paid terribly, but I got a lot of experience in preparing food in a foodservice setting. It also deeply affected me. You don’t realize how important food is to people. Sometimes family members would ask if we could put something special on the menu, a dish their loved one used to make or loved to eat, to see if they would remember. We wouldn’t make any promises, but I’d always remember which request was from which family. When we were able to accommodate those requests, I’d see these people whose minds… for lack of a better term, seemed to be proverbially lost at sea… but they took one bite of their favorite food, and their whole face lit up. Sometimes it was simply enjoying the food, but other times it would trigger fond memories.”

Your eyes began to water, and Jack reached across the table and grabbed your hand, gently stroking his thumb across the top. You swallowed, continuing. “I hated that I had to leave that place, but my career wouldn’t go anywhere if I didn’t, and the money wasn’t nearly enough to pay the bills. I always thought, if I was in a place where I could give back, I would love to donate my time and supplies to cook for people like that again.” You look into Jack’s eyes, a swirl of emotions in yours. “Do you think… we could maybe do that with the brewpub? Take a day off every month or so to cook for an Alzheimer’s assisted living home?”

Jack squeezed your hand. “Of course, sugar. It means a lot to you, and it’s helpin’ the community. I couldn’t think of a more worthy cause.”

A tear slipped down your face as you smiled and mouthed “thank you” at him. But your breath caught in your throat when Jack reached up to tenderly wipe away the tear from your cheek. You stare at each other, a charge running through the air.

Kiss him, your heart whispers.

But instead, you clear your throat, squeeze his hand and throw on a grin. “I’d love some more of that ale if you got any more.”

Jack smiles softly. “For you? No charge.” You both giggle as he goes to grab another pint for you.

He’s just a business partner, your brain reminds you. But he’s become more than that, you realize.

A friend. A partner in dreams.

Maybe more, says your heart.

A few months later, the brewpub is bustling.

With the support of some of your industry friends - and your and Jack’s hard work - The Gilded Wave opens with a bang. Business is booming; the restaurant is constantly busy, and Jack is so swamped with the microbrewery that he had to hire two additional assistant brewmasters to keep up with demand. You are speaking to your front-of-house manager when two very familiar faces burst through the front door.

Your face lights up. “Pero! Ez! What are you guys doing here?” you exclaim as they wrap you up in a bear hug. You squeal as they lift you into the air with ease.

“We heard through the ever-whisperin’ grapevine that our sweet Birdie built her very own nest and we just had to come see for ourselves,” Ezra drawls, his characteristically charismatic smirk alighting his face while he takes in the brewpub. “What a perfectly festooned establishment you got here! I sure do hope the fine provisions match the opulence of the aesthetics!”

You shake your head, giggling at Ezra’s always-fanciful dialogue, as Pero rolls his eyes at his companion. “It’s lovely to see you, hermosa,” he rumbles, kissing your cheek.

“I missed you both so much! Wanna sit at the bar and I can set you two up with some beer & food?” you offer.

“That would be fabulous, Birdie!” Ezra exclaims, clapping his hands together. “I am in need of libations like an earthworm in the midday sun.” The two men plunk themselves down at the bar, and you turn to your bartender.

“Eddie, do you mind sending in an order of garlic fries and crispy artichoke hearts for these two gentlemen?” Eddie nods and starts punching in the order in the system. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Jack coming up from the brewery stairs, wiping his brow after checking on the brewing. “Jack! Come meet some friends.”

Jack grins, loping up the rest of the stairs. He swaggers up to the bar, looking at you expectantly.

“Jack, this is Ezra and Pero. We worked together in a bunch of restaurants over the last few years.” Jack smiles widely, shaking the hand of each man and exchanging greetings.

“Guys,” you say, “this is my business partner Jack. He’s the brilliant brewmaster keeping this place busy.”

“Aww, shucks, sugar,” Jack guffaws, “this place ain’t what it is without your excellent food. Only so long a man can survive on beer before he needs to eat. And what an incredible menu it is!”

You feel your cheeks heat with the compliment. “Jeez, don’t make me soft in front of these two. I’ll never hear the end of it!” You punch Jack in the shoulder playfully, and your friends snort.

“Rán? Soft? No way, only if she really likes you,” Pero gruffs with a laugh. “She used to make grown men cry when they’d try to start shit with her.”

You turned to Jack with a smirk. “I told you I suffer no fools.”

Jack puts his hands in the air playfully in mock surrender. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.” He turns to Pero and Ezra. “Would you two like to act as my beer guinea pigs for a moment? I have a new winter ale that I’m looking to perfect before the season hits us.” Your friends nod in agreement and thanks, and Jack turns to the bar, pouring from an unmarked tap that he keeps just for his trial brews. He slides the taster glasses to Ezra and Pero, and your friends sip in contemplation.

Ezra immediately starts speaking, as per usual. “Why, Jack, that is one of the finest ales I’ve ever had in my many turns around this here planet! The spice notes, they’re so unique! Is that coriander and ginger I’m picking up?” He sips again before Jack can speak. “Maybe some citrus?”

“Mighty fine palette you have there,” Jack responds. “It’s a white ale I’ve spiked with coriander, ginger, and orange peel. Gives that warm holiday feeling.”

Pero nods, eyebrows raised. “Now that, amigo, is a good beer.” He raises his taster in salute, then downs the rest.

You giggle and slap his hand. “Tovar! You’re supposed to savor it!” Pero only shrugs.

“It’s quite alright,” Jack chuckles. “They can each have a full pint with all the compliments they’ve lathered me up with.” You roll your eyes at your friends, and rub Jack’s shoulder in a “thank you” gesture. Pero clocks the move, and raises his eyebrows in question. You silently beg him to not ask anything.

Jack places two pints of the white ale in front of the men. “Well, fellas, thanks for coming in. I have to go back down to the beer lab now that I know this winter recipe is locked in. It’s been great meeting the two of you, and I hope to see y’all around again!”

Pero and Ezra bade farewell to Jack, who disappeared back down the stairs just as the fries and artichokes arrived to the two of them. Both men dug in, nearly moaning in pleasure at the food.

“Birdie, this is incredible,” Ezra exclaims, dunking a fried artichoke into the aioli. Pero nods in agreement.

“Thanks, guys,” you coo, pleased that two of your longest friends approved of your menu. The three of you are silent for a moment, a rare occurrence when around Ezra.

“So what’s with you and Jack?” Pero asks bluntly. You nearly choke on the garlic fry you swiped from the basket. Ezra giggles into the artichokes.

“Nothing is going on,” you stammer, coughing slightly. “He’s my business partner.”

“Hermosa, I know you well, and you’ve never rubbed my shoulder like that,” Pero levels.

“I will say,” adds Ezra, “I could detect a certain… aura around you when Jack came upstairs. I have also never experienced that around you.”

“Guys, we are business partners,” you assert. “We just got close ‘cause of how intertwined our work is.”

“Yeah, I’m sure there was some intertwining happening…” Pero mutters, and you slap him upside the head. Ezra titters uncontrollably.

“Alright, Birdie,” Ezra relents, “we’ll leave you alone about handsome Mr. Jack for now. But his winter ale did alight some thoughts in my head about a certain gathering…”

You groan. “Ez… we just opened up not that long ago. I can’t in good conscience ask Jack to let our ragtag group of friends take over the brewpub for our yearly winter debauchery.”

“But what if we profusely pledge to be on our most upstanding deportment?” Ezra begs, batting his eyelashes comically while putting on his best puppy face.

Pero snorts. “Fat chance at that. But I do like the idea.” He turns to you, raising an eyebrow.

You stare at them for a few moments more, and then your resolve crumbles. “Alright, you two hooligans, I’ll ask. But NO promises, okay?” Ezra cheers and wraps you in a tight hug, while Pero gruffs in agreement and stuffs a handful of fries in his mouth.

Surprisingly (or not so surprisingly, as he is so sweet and accommodating), Jack is enthusiastic about hosting your friend group’s annual winter party, saying how excited he was to meet your friends. You and Ezra planned for weeks, and Pero came through to help you and Jack decorate the place. The warm wood is hung with pine and holly garlands, twinkling string lights criss-cross along the walls and ceilings, and pine cones are tucked into various corners of the space. A yule tree sparkled in an alcove, decorated in reg, green, and gold. And you made sure to pin up a few sprigs of mistletoe, one of your favorite traditions of the season. Back at your apartment, you slip on a sumptuous golden silk dress that clings in all the right places and flows beautifully to show off your figure, and strap on matching gold heels. Swiping on the same crimson lipstick you wore when you met Jack as a finishing touch, you smooth your outfit and walk back to the pub.

Soon enough, your friends began to pour into the space, bringing with them various foods and drinks. Jack made a special batch of wassail for the occasion, and Ezra dramatically waxes poetic about how good it is while Pero rolls his eyes at him, as usual, in the corner. The space fills with laughter, clinking glasses, and the smell of delicious food. You and Jack act as the gracious hosts, making sure no one’s glasses are empty and all the plates are full. As you’d hoped and prayed, Jack gets along amazingly well with every single one of your friends. He jokes and roasts; listens intently and carefully to people’s stories. He extends a warmth and familiarity to all, and more than once you get nudged suggestively, eyebrows wiggling and giggles whispered into your ear about how wonderfully well you and Jack work together. You flush with heat every time, and it’s hard to deny the chemistry between the two of you. Beyond being fantastic business partners, you admire Jack’s adeptness, his dogged cleverness, and most of all, his heart. Jack’s got one of the biggest hearts you’ve ever come across.

And, even if you fight it, you realize that Jack’s worked his way into your heart, too. All night you’ve been exchanging charged glances, sly smiles, little winks here and there. Jack places a warm hand on the small of your back while passing you. You press your body subconsciously against his while reaching for another glass. Fingertips brush, sparks fly.

By the time your friends trickle out into the night, merry and full, the heat between the two of you is palpable.

You’re cleaning up the bar area when Jack approaches you, two glasses of wassail in his hands. “Outstanding shindig you threw, darlin’,” he observes, passing you a glass. You clink your cup against his and take a sip, savoring the way the ale, sweet honey, and spices swirl across your tongue.

“We threw the party, Jack,” you correct. “You were just as good of a host as me, if not better.”

Jack smirks. “Well, it’s easy when you have such fun friends.”

“They are fun for sure, although I was worried they’d be a bit… much,” you admit.

“Pfft, I’m used to dealing with strong personalities,” he scoffs, nudging you pointedly. You roll your eyes but your grin remains, and you scoot closer to him, pressing the side of your body against his. You both lean against the bar, facing the interior of the brewpub, admiring where your hard work has taken you.

“Can you believe this place is real?” you muse, sipping again. Your eyes roam the space above you, when you stop and smile to yourself.

“Yes, I remember you waltzing into this place when it was nothing but concrete and pipes and my brewing equipment, a pretty thing with red lips and determination,” Jack reminisces, ignorant of what you’ve spotted.

Your heart skips a beat. Pretty.

“Oh yeah, cowboy? ‘A pretty thing’?” you purr, turning slightly to face him, your red lips pursed in amusement. Jack looks slightly hesitant, worried he crossed a line, until you point upwards and his eyes follow.

A sparkling sprig of mistletoe hangs between the two of you, above your heads. He meets your eyes again, all hesitation gone.

“Are you gonna just stare, or are you gonna respect tradition and kiss this ‘pretty thing’?” you whisper, your lips curled flirtatiously.

A smirk spreads across Jack’s face. “I thought you’d never ask, sugar.” And with that, he pulls you into his body and your lips connect.

It’s a slow, sensual kiss when it starts. Jack is gentle, all brushes of the lips, presses and caresses of your body. You lean into him, feeling your nipples press against his dark button up while he cups the back of your head tenderly. A small whimper escapes your lips, and Jack pulls back with concern.

“Is this still okay?” he murmurs, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs. You don’t answer with words, you just nod and pull him into another kiss, gently biting his plush lower lip. Jack moans gruffly, sliding his hands down the lines of your body, pausing to cup and squeeze your silk-covered ass. You feel wetness start to gather at your entrance, your arousal rocketing by the second as your kisses get more and more impassioned. Jack trails wet kisses down your neck, licking at your pulse point and right behind your ear, ripping another whimper from your chest.

“Sugar, I need to taste you so badly,” Jack groans into the junction of your neck and shoulder, biting softly.

“Please, Jack,” you breathe out, and Jack lifts you onto the bar counter, rucking your dress up. You spread your legs, helping to pull the golden silk out of the way. Jack pauses, then another smirk blooms on his lips; he takes his black Stetson off his head and places it onto yours in a quiet act of possession. You pant while you watch Jack pull up a barstool in front of you. Seating himself, he spreads you even wider, his eyes glittering with desire when he sets his eyes on your glistening center. You didn’t wear any panties, and he groans at the realization.

“Fuck, you’re prettier than a picture, honey,” he rumbles, tracing his large warm hands up your inner thighs, triggering more slick to seep out of you. Using his thumb, Jack spreads your wetness around your folds, and you inhale sharply, whimpering again. When Jack spies the pearl of your clit, he runs his thumb across it slowly, encouraging it to harden.

“So fucking pretty,” Jack murmurs to himself, thumbing your clit again and reveling in the twitch of your thighs as he does. He leans down and runs the flat of his tongue across your entire pussy, from bottom to top, swirling around your clit deliciously slowly. Wanton moans snake their way from your throat. You grip Jack’s hair, keeping his face pressed against your most intimate parts. He groans into your folds, devouring you like a man starved, as you whine and whimper and shake for him. He’s observant, noticing when your body twitches and your cries pitch higher, using that information to bring you to the simmering cusp of your orgasm.

“Come for me, darlin’,” Jack pleads, slicking up two fingers and sliding them inside you, your pussy gripping him tightly. You throw your head back, legs shaking from the intensity, when he reaches a spot deep in you.

With a few more pressured strokes of his fingers and a gentle suck of his mouth on your clit, you shatter around him, cunt clenching and dripping onto his fingers.

“That’s it, such a good girl coming for me when I ask,” Jack coos, his fingers continuing to work you through your orgasm, squelching from your release. Your moans are music to his ears, rapidly hardening his cock. Once you recover a bit, Jack slips his fingers into his mouth right before your eyes, growling quietly at the taste.

“Sweeter than honey,” he grits out, swooping in for a kiss, your own taste lingering on his lips and making you moan yet again.

“Jack, I need you inside me,” you beg between fevered kisses. Jack pulls away to meet your eyes.

“I don’t want to fuck you here,” he explains. “Can we go to your place? I want to lay you out, fuck you proper like you deserve.”

“Yes, of course,” you breathe, and he slaps your ass lightly before helping you off of the counter. You giggle, wobbling slightly in the aftermath of your pleasure. Jack helps right you and wraps a steadying arm around your shoulders while the two of you walk the three blocks to your apartment.

As soon as you enter the door, Jack is on you again, grinding his clothed cock into you and kissing you deeply. You walk the two of you backwards to your bedroom, clothing and shoes coming off between lips locking and hands groping, exploring. Both naked, you climb onto your bed, Jack following. Your legs fall open, and Jack can’t help himself from lunging forward to lick at your drenched pussy at the first sight of your slick lips parting. A whine hitches from your lungs, and Jack pulls back, shifting up to kiss you deeply again. Tongues tangle, lips are bitten, breathless moans exchanged. He pulls back again as you chase his lips, but he stops you.

“Hold your horses, sweetheart. Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, eyes shining with both hope and concern. “I don’t want you to move faster than you’re ready for.”

Your heart clenches at the display of care and consent. A smile lights your face as you respond, “Yes. I’ve been wanting this for ages… I was just too scared to be wrong about you feeling the same way for me and ruining an amazing business partnership. I’ve been dreaming of you in my bed for months, and now that I have you here, I’m not going to let you get away so fast.”

Jack’s eyes light up, and he presses a soft kiss to your forehead before getting off the bed. He rummages through his pants briefly until he pulls a gold foil square from his wallet.

“I’ve got a golden ticket here for you, darlin’, but I want you to know that I get tested regularly and that I’m clean,” Jack informs you, a smile warming his face when you giggle at his corny joke. “Is that okay with you?” He climbs back onto the bed, leaning down to kiss your belly.

You nod affirmatively. “So do I, and I’m on the pill.” Sitting up and holding your hand out for the condom, you ask, “May I?”

Jack hands you the packet. “Be my guest, angel.” You lean forward, pressing your lips once again into his, and he groans in surprise as you flip him onto his back in one fluid motion. Climbing up his legs, you push them apart to make room for yourself in between. His impressive cock is achingly hard, viscous droplets of precum bubbling at the tip. You lap them up eagerly, Jack’s head falling onto your pillows with a muffled thump and a whine of pleasure.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” Jack breathes. You suckle at the head, humming in pleasure as the salty-bitter taste floods your senses. Slowly, you begin bobbing up and down his shaft, swirling your tongue across his silky length, making his moans louder and more ragged as you go. After a couple of minutes and an intense suck later, Jack actually whimpers into the thick air of your bedroom, begging you for more. You tear open the foil packet carefully, then suck his cockhead one more time before settling the condom on top and gingerly rolling it down his thick cock.

You rise to your knees and shuffle upwards, leaning down one more time to kiss him. With your lips locked, Jack presses you back a bit and scooches his body up to sit against the headboard. You settle into his lap and slide yourself down his cock slowly.

The stretch is exquisite. Both of you moan in sync, your hands planted on his tan chest, his hands coming up to grip your hips to keep himself tethered to the moment. You feel as if every empty space in your body is filled; he fits perfectly inside you, like he was meant to be there.

He feels like coming home.

Once he’s bottomed out inside of you, you both take a moment to breathe and be present. Jack’s eyes are closed, forehead resting against yours, breathing each other’s air. His hands slowly and gently knead your hips while you adjust to his thickness stretching your walls deliciously. Bringing one of your hands to his face, you admire his blissed but tense countenance. It seems like the both of you are barely keeping it together; your pussy throbs against his cock, which twitches in response. Your breathing is heavier. And so is the tension and desire.

You kiss Jack’s lips softly, tracing your thumb down the line of his jaw, and his eyes flutter open, utterly melting when they focus on you. “Baby,” you murmur, “can I ride you now?” A groan claws out of Jack’s mouth, and his lips part as he nods his head affirmatively.

“Please,” he begs, and fucks up gently into you. Your center clenches in response, and you begin to work yourself on his shaft, rolling your hips as you grind down and back up. The sensation is intense, intimate, and all-consuming.

You clutch at Jack’s well-muscled shoulders, pressing kisses wherever you can reach and nipping his neck. His groans deepen and lengthen, his cock swelling even harder with the feeling of being buried inside you, surrounded by hot velvet. Hands gripping harder, he thrusts back up into you each time you slide down, punching into a spot deep inside you that makes you see stars. Dizzying ecstasy lights up your veins as your moans and whines pitch higher with your arousal. The slick, obscene squelching of your pussy only serves to intensify the experience for the both of you.

“Oh god, sweetheart, you’re so fucking wet and tight for me,” Jack slurs, lost in his reverence of you. “Could never get enough of you.” All you can respond with is a devout chant of his name, moaned and sighed and whimpered. He reaches down and slicks his thumb with your juices, swirling it gently around your clit. You keen sharply.

“Jack,” you moan, “don’t stop, you’re getting me there.” Jack hushes you as he works your pearl firmer.

“C’mon, sugar, I wanna feel you come all over my cock,” he encourages urgently, massaging that spot deep in your pussy while he swirls, swirls, swirls with his thumb. Your whines sharpen, your body beginning to shake.

“Oh fuck, Jack, you’re gonna make me come,” you yelp desperately, your pussy contracting and squeezing his cock tightly. Jack digs his fingers harder into the meat of your hips, trying to stave off his own orgasm, as he continues his ministrations.

He leans forward, sucking and kissing your neck, up to your ear, and licking the spot right behind it gently before murmuring, “Come for me, beautiful.”

You shatter.

Flames lick along every nerve ending, and you shove Jack as deeply into you as possible when your high hits you. Wailing his name, you grip his hair, your cunt gushing and contracting against his length, and that’s enough to push Jack over the edge with you, your name tumbling off his lips in a whimper as he buries himself deep and empties his seed into the condom.

Waves crashing together, the wheel of fate bringing you two to each other. He is meant for you, and you for him.

You both come back into your bodies, breathing heavily with your faces nuzzled against each other. Jack kisses your lips gently, and you part them to allow a deeper kiss to blossom. Slowly, languidly, your tongues dance, lips press and pull. With the tiniest peck, the two of you separate, and Jack brings his hands to cup your face gently, fingertips stroking your soft skin. His eyes shine like the sea on a sunny day, and you see golden flecks catch the light from your bedside lamp.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, mesmerized.

You huff a laugh. “Hardly,” you reply, “but I feel like we’re perfect for each other, no?” Jack nods.

“Perfectly suited for each other,” he agrees. “You are my fire, and I am your ocean. You motivate me to push myself and our business further, and keep my passions burning.”

“And you go with the flow, move with the tides, helping me get through rough waters,” you mutter sweetly at him, kissing his strong, aquiline nose. You both sit and absorb each other’s presence, soaking in the new stage of your relationship.

“Where do we go from here?” you whisper to Jack. Your lover, your confidante, your partner in business - and now, in life.

“I don’t quite know what our future holds, sugar,” Jack responds, kissing your forehead, “but where your heart is, there I will be also.”

a/n part 2: Thank you for reading! Below I've included the brief that Erin wrote about Ægir, as well as some details/inspo from the fic. Disclaimer: I am not inherently familiar with Norse mythology or traditions, so apologies if there's anything that is off-base!

-- Beers are inspired by Allagash Brewing's saison and seasonal Ski House Wheat.

-- The winter holiday party decorations are inspired by traditional Norse decorations for Yule.

-- The "wheel of fate" and the last line Jack says are a nod to traditional Norse wedding vows.

-- For Erin's Frith Challenge, Thor was assigned to Pero Tovar, and Tyr was assigned to Ezra.

God: Ægir Character: Jack Daniels / Agent Whiskey

God of the sea and brewing ale. A Jotun (which translates to “devour” or “consume”, despite being connected to “giant” more often), suggesting that he would devour or consume the ships that would sink into the sea, and his wife, Rán (the death goddess of the sea), would consume the men upon the ships.

“The brother of air and fire”. Father of 9 daughters, who themselves are the waves. Not only represents the sea, but also personifies it. Symbolizes the strength and power of the ocean, so many view him as a great warrior.

Framed as a terrible and devouring Jotun, he’s also a welcoming host. It’s said that Thor and Tyr would visit to have some of Ægir’s ale, and every winter, the gods would come to feast in his hall. This makes him a great match for Rán, the caretaker of those who died at sea, as his hospitality would be extended to them through Rán. This could be seen one of two ways: that either the dead would reside in their hall, or that they would rest there until they were ready to move on.

The sea was seen as a source of great wealth, since sailors would find treasure through industry, trade or plunder. Gold itself was referred to as “Ægir’s Fire”, because he “lights his hall with gold in his hearth”. He’s wealthy, but he shares that wealth as he entertains his guests.

However, he sort of wanted to get out of being the gods’ host. He said he’d do it on the condition that they find a big enough cauldron to account for the amount of ale he’d have to make, since the gods liked to party so much.

To follow Ægir is to be hospitable to those who enter your hold seeking comfort.

Offerings: Ocean/water iconography. Gold. Fire/flames. Ale/alcohol.

Tags for those who may be interested: @mountainsandmayhem @alltheirdamn @sin-djarin @nerdieforpedro @mermaidgirl30 @missredherring @morallyinept @qveerthe0ry @guiltyasdave @almostfoxglove @almostempty @schnarfer @kedsandtubesocks @djarinmuse @agentmarcuspike @gasolinerainbowpuddles @yopossum

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #jack daniels #frith challenge #agent whiskey #kingsmen the golden circle #offering of frith #pedro pascal cinematic universe #kingsman #kingsmen golden circle

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merlyn-bane · 3 months ago

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Brought to you by ao3 being down during a slow night at work, please have the fade to black scene from chapter one of home (is where you build it), um, un-faded. Spice below the cut ;)

Obi-Wan isn’t quite certain how he ended up here.

“Ah—ah—!”

He’d managed to deliver the leftover pizza successfully, despite the debacle at the front door. The firefighters on shift had all seemed to be very grateful for the surprise of free food, despite the fact that it’d been cold and there certainly hadn’t been quite enough of it to go around. He’d been invited to come in for a bit, and watched several of the men appear to wrestle over the rights to the pizza—only to ultimately lose out to those smart enough to wait until they were distracted—while Cody and Bly introduced them by name.

“Fuck,”

Cody’d asked him out for a drink after that, Obi-Wan remembers. Apparently he wasn’t actually scheduled to be on duty that night or something and was only there to help Bly out with—something, so he’d been free to leave. Quin had naturally been far too happy to hang out at home with the already-sleeping kids so Obi-Wan could socialize.

He certainly isn’t complaining now.

Cody shifts between his legs, rocking up to press his mouth to the sensitive spot just under Obi-Wan’s ear once more just to listen to him gasp. He lets a bit more of his weight press down against Obi-Wan, pinning him between the solid heat of Cody’s body and the creaking leather of the front bench seat of Cody’s truck. Obi-Wan grips at Cody’s shoulders, scrambling to hold on when the other man rocks forward.

One of Cody’s hands finds its way up underneath Obi-Wan’s shirt and settles just above his hip, burning like a brand, and Cody lets out a low moan when Obi-Wan can’t help but arch up into it.

They’d gone to some—small bar, or brewery? Obi-Wan’s fuzzy on the details, now. He certainly can’t remember the name of the establishment, or even really what the beer he’d had had tasted like. All he remembers is Cody’s smile, and how easily the conversation had flowed once Obi-Wan managed to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

Cody’s fingers—thick, clever fingers—find the closure of Obi-Wan’s jeans, and that more or less constitutes the end of his musings on the subject.

The buttons and fly put up very little resistance, and then Cody’s pushing his pants and underwear down past his ass. Obi-Wan makes a questioning sound when he stops there rather than removing them entirely, and Cody huffs a little laugh before pushing himself up with one hand just enough to allow him to press a series of brief but heated kisses against his mouth.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Cody pants in between kisses, “I don’t have any lube or condoms on me.” Obi-Wan whines a wordless complaint high in his throat—he believes him, Cody certainly does sound very disappointed and very contrite, but Obi-Wan would rather desperately like to be fucked—and earns another breathy chuckle from the devastatingly attractive man on top of him. “I wasn’t expecting a pretty thing like you to fall into my lap tonight. I know, I know. Trust me, I really wanna fuck you, too. I bet you feel so good, Obi, fuck.” Obi-Wan whines again at the words, at the low timbre of his voice, at everything, helpless not to. Cody shushes him softly, only for Obi-Wan to buck and gasp when warm calloused fingers wrap around his cock unexpectedly. “How about this, hmm? Can I stroke you off? I bet you look so pretty when you come.”

“Damn you,” Obi-Wan swears emphatically, boiling under his skin. He bats Cody’s hand away—immediately mourning the loss—and then goes right for the other man’s belt buckle. Cody stares at him, slack-jawed, only to hiss when Obi-Wan wraps his own fingers around Cody’s cock to pull it from his underwear.

Oh, holy fuck.

Obi-Wan forcibly shakes himself from the oncoming stupor before he spends the rest of the night simply staring at the other man’s gorgeous, thick cock, ignoring the way his hole clenches around nothing with how badly he wants it inside him. They’ve already established that they can’t tonight, and if Obi-Wan doesn’t at least get to come, he may actually expire.

He takes hold of one of Cody’s hands and then makes deliberate eye-contact as he licks a broad, wet stripe across his palm. Cody’s jaw all but falls open in his surprise and—if Obi-Wan’s reading how blown his pupils have become—arousal, and Obi-Wan holds that eye-contact as he thoroughly coats Cody’s hands with as much saliva as he can manage. Cody makes a wounded noise and Obi-Wan sucks one of his fingers into his mouth; a little mean, perhaps, but he can’t help it. Honest.

Cody growls low in his throat and then pulls his hand away from Obi-Wan’s mouth, his breathing already ragged. Both of them let out broken sounds at the first brush of their cocks together, thrusting into it, and then Cody is pumping, and pumping, his grip firm and sure and warm and every other wonderful thing, slick with Obi-Wan’s own spit as he strokes them both off together.

“Hold your shirt up for me, baby,” Cody pants out, “I don’t wanna ruin it.”

Obi-Wan moans but somehow manages to find the brain power in between thrusting up into Cody’s hand and against his cock, fisting the bottom hem of his top and yanking it up clear past his collarbone. Cody groans as his nipples are exposed, pebbled already, and squeezes just a little tighter—

Obi-Wan gives it up with a ragged cry and Cody follows right behind him, ropes of their combined spend painting Obi-Wan’s stomach and chest.

“Shit,” Cody breathes out, and Obi-Wan can’t help but agree.

#why yes i am deranged and posting this at almost two o'clock at night thank you for asking #home is where you build it #extended scene #spice #codywan #teacher au #codywan teacher au #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #star wars #star wars: the clone wars #writing #my writing

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theetherealbloom · 2 years ago

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THE SILVER LINING — CH. 1

Chapter One: The Mercury Keeps Rising

Summary: After aiding the Republic and the fall of the Empire, you left the Jedi Training Clan on Bogden 3 to help families in need of medical care with the call of the Force. You are a kind, warm-hearted healer on Nevarro, treating the citizens and albeit the bounty hunters as well. Imperial remnants still linger in the shadows, waiting to strike at the perfect moment. Leading you to assist the Mandalorian with rescuing the Child has somehow led you to your biggest adventure yet.

Paring: Din Djarin x Empath!FemReader

Warnings: Violence, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, Eventual SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, People pleasing, Flattery, Blood, Blasters, War, Religion References, Aliens, Sith, Character Deaths,

Word Count: 6.7k

A/N: YA’LL IM BACK TO WRITING MY SOUL OUT HERE YAY! I feel like this is gonna be a weekly updated fic or updated twice a week if I’m feeling speedy hehe. Did I turn to the Enneagram again? Yep! You are an Enneagram Two for this fic! Yay! (Cause I’m an Enneagram Two :>) And Din is an Enneagram One, so ya’ll are romantically compatible. Anyways, my thoughts and explanations are gonna be in the end notes! Leave a comment to let me know if you want this series or if I should scrap it. :)

Song: The Great War by Taylor Swift

Next Chapter | Series Masterlist

NEVARRO, 9ABY – DAWN

Just a little longer now… Shouldn't be much longer. Wait, what is this about? You’ve been having trouble sleeping since you were young. The nightmares were nothing new, but the sharp flares in your chest and side kept bothering you recently. Your nervous system's acting up and now being awake feels unsafe as you lay there in your cot, clutching your chest, feeling each breath that escapes from your nose and out through your mouth as you stare at the ceiling above you.

You were a long way from Bogden 3, where you were raised. Nevarro wasn’t the ideal place to hide. It was situated within a sector of the Outer Rim Territories, in a system with a singular star and asteroid fields. An ashen world of black sands, with rocky and volcanic terrain that consisted of regions of rocky flats and hills along with vast fields of lava, which contained lava rivers both on the surface and underground.

The planet became a bounty hunter hive after the fall of the Empire. The Bounty Hunters’ Guild owns hubs throughout the Galaxy. One of such hub is located on the Outer Rim planet Nevarro, which functions as a cantina. The cantina works around the clock, has its brewery, offers a wide selection of drinks with snacks, provides coolness from the air conditioner, and is a favorite place for rest and meetings of bounty hunters.

By some luck or the unknown ways of the Force, no one had recognized you nor put a bounty on your head yet. After aiding the Republic during the revolution against the Empire and after the Battle of Yavin as a healer and a medic, you left to medically aid those in need after the war. If you were being honest, you missed your friends in the Soaring Hawkbat Clan and the people who raised you. However, you knew that what you were doing needed to be done.

Droids may sometimes be unreliable, and no matter how sophisticated technology becomes, there is no substitute for the human touch. No droid, no matter how dexterous, can offer compassion. It might be able to store and process more medical information, but only people can offer a truly sympathetic ear. As one of the few who possessed the knowledge to provide primary care to the sick and wounded, Greef Karga eventually established a small medcenter a few blocks away from the cantina.

You decide to push yourself up and away from your cot, seeing the glimmer of light peek through the window. Cleaning up, getting dressed, and after quickly eating a piece of purple fruit, you sling your brown satchel over your shoulder and hurriedly make your way to the medcenter. As you enter, you greet the 2-1B droid which had modular limbs that allowed them to use a range of surgical tools and other medical instruments based on their patients' needs. You made your way over to your desk, setting down your bag and then sterilizing your hands afterward.

Different energy and buzz were happening around Nevarro. As you patched up one of the Trandoshan and sold them a couple of cans containing bacta for a good amount of credits, you had overheard them talking about receiving a job from the Client and planning a flight to Arvala-7. Living on this bounty hunter-infested planet taught you to listen for information and to use it to your advantage when necessary. They were usually given a holopuck, a simple holographic device used to display an image of the quarry and the bounty payout. However, they were only given a tracking fob, the Trandoshan briefly flashing it to you before tucking it away in their belt.

The next few hours were spent treating different families with various illnesses and injuries, then sending them off with some medication and a specific date to return. This was your usual routine, nothing new to note except for that tiny piece of information from earlier.

The sound of the doors hissing to life causes you to turn your head. If you were being honest, this was the last person you expected to show up in your medcenter. Your mouth gaped open as you take in the sight of the tall and imposing figure in front of you. The unmistakable shape of the Mandalorian helmet and polished silver causes you to nearly choke on your saliva.

“Do you have any bacta spray?” The sound of his rough and modulated voice causes you to try and gather your composure as he walks towards you, which proves to be slightly challenging. You clear your throat and look at his vizor, “Yeah, let me just go to the cabinet to get some.” He doesn’t respond, leaving you to awkwardly stand there for a few more seconds before moving to retrieve the bacta spray.

You usually aren’t this nervous or anxious around anyone, but the Mandalorian was completely different. As you rummage through the cabinet, you try and fight the overwhelming urge to sense his feelings, but it is no use. He radiates with deep hurt from his past but tries to bury his soul in the dark. This Mandalorian weights living heavy on his spine. A man who has created mistakes grips at them until his hands are bruised and burning. You wince at that, nearly dropping one of the bacta sprays but manage to catch it, turning to the Mandalorian keenly observing you as you make your way over to him, trying to ignore the waves and streaks of grey and silver glowing around his figure, you quickly hand it to him while saying, “I hope three is enough for now.”

He curtly nods, “How much?” You shake your head, “You don’t have to pay. It’s fine.” The slight tilt of his helmet almost causes you to blush, you feel his curiosity and concern, “I insist.”

You blink and shake your head again, “Nope. Just… be careful on your journey. That’s enough for me.” You sense his confusion and interest before he turns and walks away, leaving a trail of gray streaks only you could see, hearing the slight clink sound of beskar, and the doors closing.

Once you’re sure he left, you bring both of your hands to the side of your face, using two fingers to rub into your temple, sighing in embarrassment and disappointment for allowing yourself to nearly reveal who you truly are. Having strong Force empathy abilities involved picking up impressions of an individual's feelings and general emotional state. There was no explanation for the aura you could see around individuals, a specific color for each living creature that encompasses their character, personality, morals, past, present, and sometimes, a rare glimpse of their future emotions.

You try and ground yourself by closing your eyes and breathing, controlled and steady breaths of air as you reassure yourself that you’re safe. The peace doesn’t last long, as flashes of visions begin to cloud your periphery. Loud explosions on Nevarro, blaster fights, the unmistakable loud cries of a child, and the Mandalorian at the center of it all. You fall to your knees, clutching your chest tightly and the other to hold your upper body. You sensed the dark side, anger, fear, aggression, and a lust for power from this planet long before, but now you sense there is something much more sinister approaching.

NEVARRO, 9ABY – NOON

After a few days, you intercepted a transmission from the Mandalorian successfully capturing the bounty from Arvala-7, and must be directly given to The Client. While the Mandalorian was gone you had been secretly training, meditating, and gathering more information about whoever this Client may be, allowing the Force to guide you to the path you must walk on.

You step out of the medcenter to see the Razor Crest preparing to land on the settlement's spaceport and disembark. You toss the hood over your head and use a scarf as a mask, hiding in the shadows, watching the Mandalorian and a hover-pram pass you by swiftly and you catch a glimpse of a green creature inside. Your mouth slightly drops open in shock and the quiet feeling of the Force settles inside of you as you eye the baby.

You follow the two of them from a distance, not wanting to be noticed or seen. The Mandalorian turns right into an alleyway, and you wait a few seconds before trailing him. You hide behind one of the stone pillars, keenly observing his movements. The Mandalorian pounds loudly on a metal door and a TT-8L/Y7 gatekeeper droid, a simple photoreceptor mounted on a retractable eyestalk. The Mandalorian shows a disc as proof of identity. You notice The Child reacts in surprise as the droid retracts.

The door unlocks, and you realize you must follow them without getting caught. Your eyes close as you calmed yourself, deep breaths in and out, registering the light and sound waves around you, every particle and atom. Tiny pieces of music, notes in the air that only you can hear, each sound of your heartbeat, you hold my breath and try to swim. Making infinite room for hope and oxygen, every cell across your skin comes to life, and slowly willing the light particles to bend and render you invisible to visual and audio detection.

When you open your eyes, you silently gasped, seeing a pair of Remnant Stormtroopers exit the house, and watching The Child lowers its ears and head. Your hands clench in a fist so tight you reminded yourself to breathe, following after the Mandalorian and the Stormtroopers before the door slides shut behind you. Inside the corridor, one of the stormtroopers roughly yanks the Child's cradle. Your eyes narrow in agitation and annoyance, the Madalorian is quick to say, “Easy with that.” To which the first Stormtrooper snarkily replies, “You take it easy.”

The stormtroopers lead you to a frail old man who you assume to be the Client and to a familiar-looking doctor on the side, the Client is delighted, “Yes!” He holds the tracking fob and approaches the Child, “Yes, yes, yes! Yes.” The Doctor begins to scan the child with a device, eventually, the scanner beeps to his delight, “Very healthy. Yes.”

The Client stands taller to speak to the Mandalorian, “Your reputation was not unwarranted.” The Mandalorian isn’t the least bit flattered, opting to question him, “How many fobs did you give out?” To which the Client responds, “This asset was of extreme importance to me. I had to ensure its delivery. But to the winner…” He walks over to the desk, bringing out a large container, “Go the spoils.” After a few buttons are pushed, the sides of the container bloom open to reveal bars of Beskar. The Mandalorian comes closer to the center table, holding two bars of beskar as you frown in disappointment.

“Such a large bounty for such a small package.” The Client says, and the Child cries and coos for the Mandalorian as he is taken away by the doctor. He can’t help the guilt that bubbles inside of him, he asks, “What are your plans for it?” The Client isn’t amused by his inquiry, “How uncharacteristic of one of your reputation. You have taken both commission and payment. Is it not the Code of the Guild that these events are now forgotten?”

Two more Stormtroopers appear from the room to the right, standing behind the Client, “That Beskar is enough to make a handsome replacement for your armor. Unfortunately, finding a Mandalorian in these trying times is more difficult than finding the steel.” With that, the Mandalorian places the two pieces of Beskar inside the container. No longer speaking and leaving with his prize as you follow him outside undetected.

Once you were in the main streets of the city, you pull back your cloak and render yourself visible, watching the Mandalorian walks through the marketplace and down the steps into the sewer below. You feel the heavy weight on your chest, unsure if the emotions you feel are coming from him or if they are your own. You shake your head and make your way to the Cantina, needing a drink after all of the information you’ve gathered.

You were taught about Master Yoda, a legendary Jedi Master and stronger than most in his connection with the Force. Small in size but wise and powerful, he trained Jedi for over eight hundred years, playing integral roles in the Clone Wars, and helped in the upbringing of Master Luke Skywalker, to which your clan members were deciding to join him or not. Could this Child be another one of his kind?

The Cantina doors opened and you were immediately greeted by Greef Karga, “Well, look who we have here our favorite medic! Never thought you’d step foot in this place.” You shrugged in response, trying to shake off the stares of the different guests in the Cantina, “I gotta support Mikgel from time to time. Besides, he said he owed me a free drink.” You walk a bit closer to Greef Karga’s table as he asks, “Why would a woman like you, so carefree spirited need a drink?”

You sit on the other side of the booth, placing both of your arms atop the table, “Would… finding out about Imperial Forces hiding in out in a safe house on our planet count?” Greef Karga chokes on air and winces, you tilt your head down and raise an eyebrow, “Did you think you could keep this from me? What the hell are they doing here?”

He regains his composure and leans forward to whisper his reply, “I never intended to keep it from you. I was trying to protect you.” You scoff in disbelief and annoyance, “Protect me?”

To which Karga says, “Yes! Protect you, if they knew who you were and what you are they’d–” You rarely get angry, always choosing to see the good in people, but you sense the feeling of Karga’s greed and mixed lies.

You raise your hand, palm facing him, “Don’t lecture me about something I’ve lived and fought through. Giving them your services makes you an accomplice, a rat, and a damn coward.” The taste of acid and the waves of color that is radiates off of Karga is a mix of a bright lava orange and red, his simmering anger hisses at you, “Look who’s to talk. Hiding all your life. Running from your own future. Isn’t that a bit selfish and cowardly?” You deflate at that, understanding that he is partially right.

But before you could respond to the sound of the doors hissing open, you turn your head to see the Mandalorian entering the cantina, which silences its patrons as everyone gazes at him. Completely decked out with shiny new armor, he is completely unbothered as he approaches the table where you and Greef Karga are conversing. Karga heartily laughs, “Ah! Mando! They all hate you, Mando. Because you’re a legend!”

You try and get out of the booth and leave but Mando uses his right hand for you to stay put, so you settle back down again. You raise your eyes to hear the raspy voice of the Mandalorian confront Karga, “How many of them had tracking fobs?” Greef Karga scoffs and gestures around the Cantina, “All of them. All of them! But not one of them closed the deal. Only you, Mando. Only you.” The Mandalorian looks at you, “What about her?” To which you look up at him and frown, “No. I’m just a medic getting a drink after a tough day. But congratulations, I guess.”

Greef Karga continues, “And with it, the richest reward this parsec has ever seen. Please sit with us, my friend.” The Mandalorian obliges and unclips his Amban sniper rifle, placing it on the side of the couch before you move a little to the right to give him room to sit next to you. He took up almost half of the booth with his width and physique. You feel your left arm warm up with how close he was, the comfort that allures you to his orbit was unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. You choose to look straight ahead, trying not to acknowledge him pressed up beside you, luckily Greef Karga opens his mouth to talk, “They’re all weighing the Beskar in their minds, but not me. No. I, for one, celebrate your success. Because it is my success as well.”

Your right leg bounces up and down in anticipation Karga continues, “Hell! Even I’m rich.” He chuckled and digs into his breast pocket to reveal the two bars of Beskar he was given by the Client. You roll your eyes in annoyance, but the Guild Master says, “Now, how can I show my gratitude to my most valuable partner?”

Mando cuts to the chase, “I want my next job.” Greef Karga takes a sip of his drink before placing it down on the table, he eyes him with confusion, “Next job? Take some time off. Enjoy yourself. I’ll take you to the Twi’lek healing baths.” You frown at that and Mando doesn’t seem to care, “I want my next job.” Karga sighs, “Sure. Fine.”

“You hunters like to keep busy, right?” Karaga says with an amused tone, “Well, these are all far away.” He places a bunch of holopucks on the table and the Mandalorian reaches out to grab one, “The further, the better.” Karga smiles, “Well, take your pick. You’ve earned it.”

Mando places the holopuck on the table and it whizzes to life, showing an image of a Mon Calamari. “Ah. That’s the best one of the lot. A nobleman’s son skipped bail. Looks like you’re headed to the ocean dunes of Karnac.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything and simply takes the puck and moves away from the table, grabbing his Amban sniper rifle, seemingly satisfied with his pick. You turn to watch him go but he freezes, and you use the force to reach out what he’s feeling, to be flooded with waves of guilt. Your eyebrows knit together as you hear Mando ask, “Any idea what they’re gonna do with it?”

Karga is packing the rest of the holopucks, “With what?” The Mandalorian turns to face him, “The kid.” Karga shakes his head, “I didn’t ask. It’s against the Guild Code.” Mando’s voice goes deeper as he points out, “They work for the Empire. What are they doing here?” You raise your eyebrows at Karga, as you smile smugly at him, “I asked the same thing.” To which he says, “Are the two of you working together? The Empire is gone. All that are left are mercenaries and warlords. But if it bothers you both, just go back to the Core and report them to the New Republic.”

You rolled your eyes and the Mandalorian grunts out, “That’s a joke.” Greef doesn’t give a remark about his statement, instead, he says, “Mando, enjoy your rewards. Buy a camtono of spice. By the time you come out of hyperdrive, you will have forgotten all about it.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t reply and simply takes his leave. You shake your head, scoffing at Karga and he calls out your name as you near the exit, “I suggest you keep yourself out of sight with those Imperial troops. For your safety, of course.” You say nothing and leave the Cantina, you feel the ground shaking under your feet and feel the pressure building until you can't breathe.

You shake your head, and the temptation of the dark side calls to you, to give in to your rage and hatred, you internally fight it off, gritting your teeth as you say, “No.” You catch your breath and focus, rationalizing your decision to break into the Imperial Remnant safe house to save the Child, then you will yourself to move towards the medcenter.

You swiftly walked towards your desk, grabbed your satchel, and opened the flap of the leather. Finding the fabric that wraps around the object you were searching for, you pull it out of the satchel and unwrap it. The lightsaber hilt that you haven’t touched since the day you left the clan, weighs heavy in your hands but the familiar cool touch of silver and gold metal forged into one grant you a sense of comfort. You wrap the hilt once more, not yet needing your lightsaber, placing it inside your satchel and instead arm yourself with a blaster. As you were gathering a few bacta sprays, the double doors sounded open, you don’t look over your shoulder as you say, “We’re closed for the day.”

“I need your help.” You feel your eyes expand and widen, the familiar voice of the Mandalorian causes you to wince a little bit as you turn to see his figure standing a few feet away from you.

You try to act nonchalant ask you ask, “What did you um… need?” Mando steps a bit closer to you, which causes your back to hit the cabinet door, his grave voice echoes through the modulator, “I need your help with rescuing the kid.” You swallow away your nervousness, “What? Why would you ask for my help?”

“You never showed up to the Cantina until today. You were asking Karga about the Imperials and you were curious as to why there were here. You never carry a weapon with you so I’m assuming you’re about to infiltrate their base. It looks like our interests are aligned,” Mando stated plainly as you quietly shook your head, “You don’t know me. So why trust me at all with this?”

It takes him a moment to form a response, you watch as his shoulders rise and fall with every intake of breath, then he says, “I’ve heard the good you’ve done for the people of Nevarro. No judgment or malice. Sometimes giving them medical care for free. You’re right, I don’t know who you are or what you’ve done before. But right now, I do know you’ve only done the right thing. So, I’m asking for your help.”

You were startled by his response, completely breathless by his honesty and directness. You had thought he didn’t know who you were, just some medic around Nevarro, plain and simple. But it seems the Mandalorian also keeps tabs on the citizens around the town.

The color aura of the Mandalorian returns as you blink at him, feeling his emotions bouncing off of him and you becoming the receiver. Sparks of white and silver illuminate him, sensing his sincerity and need to save the Child. You lick your lips as an anxious tick and then nod, “Okay. I’ll do it. What’s the plan?”

The sun was beginning to set, casting shadows on your figures as you swiftly walk down the marketplace and down the alleyway to see the giant green metal door to the Imperial safe house. You make a right to find the hovering pram in the dumpster, and you feel his rage beside you. Like wildfire within him, mountains made of ash and clouds of smoke. It's fight or flight buried in his mind as alarms will sound.

You both climb up to the rooftop of the building across, positioned on his stomach, using his sniper rifle to listen to his targets. Clicking the side of his helmet to which the device whizzes and the static could be heard as you lay flat next to him. You figured he was listening to the targets and waiting for him to relay the information. After a few seconds, the Mandalorian quickly says, “We need to get the kid out of there before they leave.” You nodded as you lifted your hood up, “Okay.”

You both climb down off the rooftop. The Mandalorian bangs on the green door and is greeted by the gatekeeper droid. However, the Mandalorian violently grabs the stem, causing it to screech and rips off the droid's head, causing it to short circuit. He quickly walks away to the side, causing the two stormtroopers to come out to investigate.

One of them tells the other, “Check the perimeter.”

You and the Mandalorian plant a grav charge on a nearby wall, he grabs your wrist to hide behind another wall, “Cover your ears.”

You follow his instructions, using both of your hands to cover them, the beeping chirps louder, then sparks begin to fly, blowing a hole in the Imperial compound. Alarms are blaring, as you both walk into the corridor, positioning yourselves and waiting for the stormtroopers to advance.

The yellow lights flicker and eventually short-circuit, catching a glimpse of sparks flying on the side of the wall. You see the stormtroopers pass you and the Mandalorian to inspect the giant hole in the wall, using the flashlights on the side of their blasters to find nothing.

You both appear from behind the stormtroopers, the Mandalorian shooting the both of them from behind. Another stormtrooper enters the corridor and finds his fallen comrades, one of whom has a smoking hole in his chest. The Mandalorian once again appears from the shadows, knocking him down with his blaster and shooting him as well.

So far you hadn’t even needed to draw out your blaster, Mando is truly skilled. You walk through the corridors of the facility, checking each corner for stormtroopers. You and he venture deeper into the compound where he traps a fourth stormtrooper with his grappling cable and stabs him with his vibroblade.

You shoot a door open and the stormtrooper manages to get a hit on this shoulder pauldron, causing him to jerk backward but manages to shoot the stormtrooper inside the laboratory. You both walk inside and you spot the doctor and an IT-O Interrogation Unit. The doctor begins to plead for his life, “No, no, no, no, please. Please. No. No, no.” You raise your blaster to shoot down the IT-O Interrogation Unit, watching the pile of junk collapse on the ground.

Mando raises his blaster to shoot at the doctor, but he begs you both once more, “No, please. Please don’t hurt him. It’s just a child.” You and the Mandalorian walk toward him and he continues to plead, “Please. No. No! Please. No. No, no.” Mando grabs him by his chest and shoves him to the side, causing him to fall to the floor. He points and clicks his blaster at him, and he curls into a ball with his arm stretched out begging. You make your way to the machine keeping the child, finding him deep asleep.

You feel the Mandalorian break at the sight, alarms are still blaring, but it's too late for holy water now. He points the blaster, angrily asking, “What did you do to it?” He doesn’t get an immediate response which causes him to repeat the question harshly, “What did you do to it?” The doctor shakingly replies, “I protected him. If it wasn’t for me, he would already be dead! Please! Please. Please.”

The doctor whimpers as you quickly grab the Child and leave with the Mandalorian. You make a right but here the doors open, Mando grabs you and presses you up against a wall to hide behind some of the storage crates. You suddenly feel nauseous and can hear your own heartbeat flutter as you register the cool kiss of his armor against your warm flesh. You close your eyes as you feel the rise and fall of your chest and hear Mandos’ quiet breathing.

You try to push down your powers and senses, not wanting to feel his emotions at this particular moment right now. You feel the strings and waves radiating and intertwining with yours, the silver wisps curling with your bright shining colors. You tightly shut your eyes, hoping that you were almost out of this compound.

Suddenly, you hear the Mandalorian whisper, “They’re gone.”

Your lashes flutter as you open your eyes to meet his gaze through his vizor, there is a spectrum of color, surrounding you both. Your mouth partly opens to say something but there is no sound. For a moment, you believed he felt something too, the pull of gravity within your orbit. However, Mando pulls away from you and the colors disappear once more as if it was never truly there.

Neither of you spoke as you trail behind him and walk into a storeroom. The unexpected sound of the door opening catches you and Mando off-guard as two stormtroopers with flashlights attached to their armor try to shoot you both down. One of the stormtroopers says, “Split up. We’ll flush him out.”

You see their flashlights give away their positions, giving you and him time to defend yourselves. You turn to your left to give Mando the Child, letting him carry it, and make your way to the other stormtrooper.

“Give it up. There’s nowhere to–” You hear the groan of the stormtrooper being taken down by Mando, and you do the same to the other one, hitting him over the head with your blaster before knocking him out completely.

Another stormtrooper announces his arrival, “Hey!” To which you grab Mando’s Ampan sniper rifle on the floor, electrocuting him with the fork end of the device.

As you both exit the storeroom only to run into a stormtrooper. You both exchange gunfire, the sharp whizzing sound of blaster fire echoes in your ears, and the Mandalorian shoots him down. A second stormtrooper blasts his way through, and he unleashes his flamethrower on the second stormtrooper, scorching him. The Child looks away as this happens. The charred stormtrooper falls to the ground.

You groan in annoyance, “How many are there?” Mando hums, “Way too many for the Empire to be considered gone.”

You follow him and enter the meeting room with him holding the Child. Seemingly empty you walk straight to the exit doors, however, they open to reveal four more stormtroopers, “Freeze!” You three are completely cornered, “Don’t move! Hands up!” One of them yells, “Drop the blasters!”

You glare at the stormtroopers as Mando speaks calmly to them, “Wait. What I’m holding is very valuable. Here.” Mando gestures to you to do the same as you get down on your knees to place your blasters on the ground and he gently places the Child on the floor as well. “Now turn and face me!”

A stormtrooper commands, but neither of you moves, allowing yourself to have faith in the Mandalorian’s plans. You watch him clench his fists, and you hear the device on his arm chirp to life. “Stand up!” They command once more but you don’t follow their orders. A beat passes. The sharp sound of whistling birds creating fireworks as he unleashes them onto your enemies, you hear them groan in pain as it takes out all of the stormtroopers.

Mando gently picks up the Child and his blaster to which you grab your blaster from the floor, quickly exiting the compound. You walk side by side with the Mandalorian through the streets of Navarro, feeling the menacing stares of each bounty hunter. You spot their tracking fobs have been reactivated, loudly beeping as they point it towards your direction. Soon enough you are surrounded by several armed bounty hunters.

You spot Greef Karga stepping into view, “Welcome back! I’m surprised to see you ask for help from our talented healer. Now put the package down.” You analyze the several bounty hunters, trying to find an escape. “Step aside. I’m going to my ship.” Mando said, and Karga softly chuckles, “You put the bounty down and perhaps I’ll let you pass and our medic can be easily forgiven, after all, she’s done for the citizens of this town.”

Mando doesn’t relent and states, “She and the kid are coming with me.” You turn to look at him in surprise that he wouldn’t just leave you here to face the consequences of your actions. “If you truly care about the kid and her, then you’ll put it on the speeder and you’ll let her walk away as if none of this ever happened and we’ll discuss terms.” An R6 astromech droid, on the speeder, turns its head.

“How do we know if we can trust you?” You asked and Karga scoffs, “Because I’m your only hope.” You watch Mando walk over to the speeder and you feel your eyes begin to fog with oncoming tears. Karga says your name, “Walk away and we’ll discuss this later.” You clench your jaw and glare at the bounty agent before turning your back toward him, and placing your hand on your blaster as you sensed it, the tingling in your spine and throughout your body.

Mando whirls around and shoots at the other bounty hunters, jumping onto a repulsorlift vehicle carrying luggage. You quickly take cover and shoot down the other bounty hunters running towards the Mandalorian and hopping onto the repulsorlift. Deep and commanding, he demands the astromech droid, “Drive!”

The droid shakes its head in disapproval and Mando raises his blaster at him, “Drive!” The astromech screeches in fear and drives the repulsorlift vehicle while you and Mando are shooting down as many bounty hunters as you can.

You aim for the sniper above and shoot while Mando covers the ground as you drive by. The astromech is shot down by Karga, you see bright yellow sparks and you hear the droid power down. You hear Mando whisper, “Are you okay?”

To which you hum and nod, “Mhm. I’m fine.”

It’s now deadly quiet as the rest of the hunters step closer toward the repulsorlift. The fork end of the amban rifle peaks through the luggage as Mando aims and blasts bounty hunters into ash. Different species groan and clamor to hide behind various objects.

“That’s one impressive weapon!” Karaga states and Mando’s voice booms as he announces, “Here’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna walk to my ship with her and the kid, and you’re gonna let it happen.”

“No. How about this? We take the kid and the medic, and if you try to stop us, we will kill you and we strip your body for parts.” Karga says menacingly, and suddenly you feel someone pull your leg, dragging you and you yelp out in fear and surprise.

Mando is quick to your aid, using the butt of his rifle and then shocking him with the fork of his weapon, completely stunning the first bounty hunter while you shoot down the second.

You spot the rest of the hunters advancing towards you with their weapons, firing every part of the speeder.

Greef Karga yells, “Don’t hit the target or her!” As a last resort, Mando activates his flamethrower, which causes the bounty hunters to fall back for a moment, only for it to run out of fuel. You lay down next to the Child, craning your head to the right to gaze at his peaceful sleeping form.

You feel the sudden weight of Mando hovering over you and the kid, trying to protect both of you til the end. You hear the Child coo beside you and smile in adoration.

You reach into your satchel and dig for the lightsaber hilt, readying yourself to defend Mando and the Child the moment it comes down to it. Without notice, you hear the whooshing sound of rockets streaking through the air to hit one of the bounty hunters straight through the chest. Fortunately, several fellow members of the Mandalorian Tribe, donning jetpacks and blasters, come to your aid, taking out several bounty hunters.

You watch in awe as the Mandalorians skillfully use their weapons in taking out the remaining bounty hunters, the head infantry lands close to the speeder and says, “Get out of here! We’ll hold them off!” To which Mando replies, “You’re going to have to relocate the covert.” The head infantry responds, “This is the Way.” And Mando echos back, “This is the Way.”

The firing continues and Mando carries the Child and helps to pull you up. You and the Mandalorian board the Razor Crest, but are soon cornered by Greef Karga, “Hold it right there.” You both turn to face Karga as he states, “I didn’t want it to come to this. But then you broke the Code. And you,” he turns to talk to you, “Since you’re with him they will come after you too now. And the Imps will soon follow.” You raise your chin as you steadily replied, “Let them try.”

The Mandalorian uses his grappling hook to trigger the carbonite chamber, unleashing some tibanna gas in an attempt to blind Karga. You expertly doge his attempts to shoot at you only for you to outstretch your hand, using the Force to let his weapon fly out of his hands, he stands there completely stunned and Mando uses his blaster to shoot him off of the Razor Crest.

The hatch closes and you strap yourself in, the Razor Crest takes off, watching the other Mandalorians provide covering fire through the window. You comfortably soar into the skies of Nevarro. You spot the head infantry flying beside the ship and salute him before flying off.

The Mandalorian makes a remark, “I gotta get one of those.” And you snort in amusement. The Child is seated beside his lap and is reaching for something. The Mandalorian unscrews the metal ball on the stick and gives it to him to play with before taking the Razor Crest into space.

End Notes:

YAYYYYYYYYYYYY! SPACE DAD STORY!

You are a force-sensitive empath! HORRAY!

You can force cloak yourself because this skill tends to come to people as more of a natural talent, for it is extremely difficult to learn otherwise; thus, the reason the ability is rarely seen.

The reader is an Enneagram 2! You are a part of the Heart Center; The benevolent, embrace of the good in other people, engage in every emotional love, you experience and feel their emotions more than anyone else. Helpful, natural nurturers, understanding, generous, supportive, mistaken as the passive, embodiment of what love and embrace look like.

The Mandalorian is an Enneagram One personality type with a Nine wing. Enneagram Ones belong to the body center, along with Eights and Nines, and they naturally make decisions based on gut instinct. The Mandalorian likes to feel in control, particularly of his physical environment. For Enneagram Ones, freedom and independence are important.

SO THAT'S A GLIMPSE INTO THEIR PERSONALITY TYPE AND THE WAY THEY MAKE CHOICES!

All will be revealed in the coming chapters! I can’t wait for you guys to read them AHHHHHH

Thank you for all the reblogs, comments, feedback, and likes! Ya’ll really are too sweet and I truly appreciate your kind words. SEE YA IN THE NEXT CHAPTER!

TAGLIST:

@wastingspaces @avengersheart @lunatic1012 @keepingupwiththeskywalkers

#din djarin x empath!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x jedi!reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #din djarin #the mandalorian fic #mando x you #The Silver Lining #The Silver Lining Masterlist #The Silver Lining Din Djarin #din djarin x fem!reader #pedro pascal x reader

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nintendette · 6 months ago

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A guide to finding the "Quieter" Pride Events

[US-centric post]

Despite what tumblr would have you believe, there are absolutely Queer Book Clubs, lectures, art events that take place during Pride and all year long!

They won't be on your feed organically until you follow them; they won't pay to send you ads. So you have to be intentional to find out!

I can't make a guide for your individual city. These are leads + starting point. Their instagram will boost other events, there might be a list-serve.

Queer Bookstore - Follow a Queer Owned or Queer Friendly Bookstore on instagram or check their events page. This list has some from 27 states.

A University's: Sexual Health Department, Sexuality Studies/ Queer Studies Department, Queer Resource Center - Many of their lectures/events are open to the public, you don't need to be a student. They want to contribute to the community too.

Sex Shop - Find a local queer friendly sex store. Do not think they only sell things! Mine has a library of sex-ed books and events like self-dense classes, non-monogamy talks, support groups etc.

Queer Library - Likely only in bigger metros, but they host events and lectures.

Pride at Museums - Many museums do unique events/exhibits just for pride.

Pride Organization - Many cities' pride teams need jobs all year round so they do smaller Community and Education events year round. E.G. one is a queer book fair at a lesbian-owned brewery.

Queer friendly [Activity] /Business - For example an Improv club I like does a monthly queer Improv Jam.

Facebook - Queer exchange group, people post things on there or you can ask

I understand you may be from a small town or less progressive city, and these may not be available. I just saw a post with thousands of interactions from someone in Washington DC saying they don't have any 'non party' events, so this is my response.

I think the tumblr myth that there's no queer friendly events for people who don't drink party is way too pervasive. People like you are planning and organizing in your community.

Below the read more are specific examples for Minneapolis/Saint Paul. I'm going to feature some events/orgs to show you what kind of events are out there and to guide for what you can search for in your area.

Bookstore: Moon Palace Books + Black Garnet Books

University: Eli Coleman Institute for Sexual and Gender Health Gender & Sexuality Center for Queer & Trans Life

Sex Shop: Smitten Kitten

Queer Library: QuatreFoil Library functions as an event space as well

Museum Pride at Mia + Mill City Museum

Year round Pride Programming: Gayme Nights, Book Fair, Community Ed

#pride month #pride #queer events

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theehorsepusssy · 1 year ago

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TheeHorsepussys Portland : Vaseline Alley aka Stark Street aka Harvey Weinstein ( I always get that mixed up) Harvey Milk Blvd

Documenting some gay-ass history for the kids

Red Arrow - 2 blocks to Touche. Not gay but spent most of the 90s in that bar. Fancy looking dining room/pool room but mostly service industry clientele. Hard to find a spot to do drugs discreetly.

Green - Everyday Music. Where to sell vinyl for dope money.

Yellow - Big BIG abandoned, scary building. Looked haunted. Was eventually renovated. But gave you the heebie-jeebies walking past it at night. Gay bashing zone

Green Arrow - The City Nightclub. Underage nightclub. Chicken Hawks(is that Gus Van Sant?), lots of drugs, good DJ downstairs, GREAT DJ upstairs

Red - The Henry Weinhard Brewery (demolished) Made the area smell really, really awful. Gagging thinking of it.

(Stark Street starts to the right here. It looks like they built some weird barrier in the intersection..probably cuz drunk gays in middle of street)

Orange - The Bathhouse. Home away from home. I would sell rip-off size bags of meth to subsidize my habit. Sucked a huge penis here. Gagging thinking of it. Gay bar downstairs was called either Flossies or Silverado or both. Male strippers. Would buy my shitty little bags of dope.

Blue Arrow - at one moment in the 90s, a sex club I think owned by Fantasy Video. Robert would meet his side piece there . The director Todd Haynes, I fuzzily recall reading, was a patron. I went once. Weird vibe. There was a plaque on the wall outside the entrance commemorating the recording of Louie, Louie.

Orange - The Eagle. Bar where it was common to have sex. I saw a guy take a foot up his butt. Cops started randomly coming in to cock block. There is a new bar called the Eagle up in NE Portland up by the Heroin Fred Meyer (I suppose they all are now)

Blue - Transient hotel above the store I hated buying cigarettes from but can't recall why. Maybe it was expensive.

Green - Greasy spoon called Roxys. Horrible breakfast food 24/7. I think it used to be down the street on Everett. Had a tiny basement bar. Moved to Vaseline Alley in 90s. Had ginormous picture of Quentin Tarantino or some shit. Very 90s

Yellow - Three Sisters (Six Titties) dive bar/gay bar. Never really went there. At some point was a male strippers bar. Robert had me escort one of his side pieces there. Kid thought the stripper was really into him. I tried to explain. I won $600 on the poker machine and drove the kid home.

Orange - Django Records. Large amounts of cheap used records. 3 for a dollar bins! I bought Eyehategod In the Name of Suffering here. Also the Cruising soundtrack...33cents!

Red - Fancy, expensive hotel. Yell really loud underneath the windows. They like that. Cops always parked along this stretch. Drunk gays got their first DUIs around here.

Mint- block of amnesia. I don't think it existed

Red - Boxes. Gay bar where you did lines of coke/mda/meth in the bathroom without hassle. TV sets with Oprah or Steel Magnolias, shit like that on. Spartacus Leather fetish store was down a couple doors. Inside Boxes, you could take a wood paneled passage through the fish restaurant kitchen ( I don't think anyone ever ate there) and end up at.....

Green - the Brig. Named because dance floor had bars around it like a jail cell. Imagine the creative dance moves as the queens grappled bars, ass out while Madonna songs played on a loop. Your meth dealer could be found here, doing a fan dance. Don't wear black. Semen stains show up under the blacklights. (or do)

Yellow - the house paint store. Eventually became the Panorama in the age of MDMA. Rave type music. Went there once to meet a dealer. Obnoxious experience.

White - Silverado. Country Western night most nights. My roommate dj'd andtaught line dancing but dance floor was like 10 sq ft so it was just the gays holding hands and boot scootin' in a little circle for eternity. Bar I could get into underage.

Orange - Ben Stark Hotel. Like outta Barton Fink. But really,really seedy. Had some weird sex in there. Now a boutique hotel owned by some Donald Trump guy Gordon Someone who did something once. Probably haunted.

Brown - Scandals. Beer /wine bar. Big windows so you can people-watch and talk shit. Used to go in there underage until I got thrown out snorting a rail of MDA off the tabletop. Had electronic darts and video poker in the 90s. Me and Robert had a domestic dispute there.

Red - row of funky vintage/antique shops. Someone used to broadcast a pirate radio station somewhere around there in the 90s

Blue - Portland Underground. Small venue had some big shows early 90s. Top floor is where I swear I saw Econochrist play. But it's an office building. Maybe confused

Yellow. OBryant Square aka Paranoid Park. Skateboarders and street drugs. I got "chased" by AF Nazis here. Probably more like I ran my fat ass up the street after this girl I knew screamed "run!" And they probably just laughed. I didn't look back. I think it's demolished now.

White arrow- up the block toward the Galleria. Second floor toilet was really cruisy. Careful of cockblocking rent-a-cops. Kiosk by cafe I think was only place downtown to buy pipe to smoke pot

#long ass post #TheeHorsepussys Portland

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mirai-e-jump · 1 year ago

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Dengeki Tokusatsu Tsushin Vol.7 (Spring/2002) "FACE UP 2002" (Free Talk Segments) ft. Kamen Rider Ryuki Cast Members (translations below)

Publication: January 3, 2002 (before broadcast start)

"FACE UP 2002" Part 1: Takamasa Suga (page 5)

Suga: The location we filmed at today was so cold. The wind near the ocean is so strong…man! I was shivering. I want to apologize to the staff for the times I wasn't able to speak, or when I kept giving NG (no good) takes. Furthermore, today was already the beginning of Spring, so I already feel out of it. "Wow! Are you serious?" is what I kept saying (laughs).

Suga: I was actually riding the bike that was used during filming. That one's really slow. No matter what I do, it won't go any faster. But, I guess it'll be in my care for a year.

Suga: Draft Master?* I didn't understand it. If you can pour beer, then you're already good at it (laughs). I actually attended one of their course's at Kirin's headquarters. Learning things like, the temperature of a glass at which the best bubbles are produced, or something like that. During the audition, Director Tasaki asked me, "So what is a Draft Master? At that moment I thought, "Now's my chance!" So I said, "Either way, I like beer!" He responded with, "Well then, next time I'll ask you to pour me a beer, haha!," (laughs). Later I though, "I really screwed up." But, I really do like alcohol. Whether it's sake, shochu, wine, or whisky, I can get into just about anything. (*beer pouring course provided by the Kirin Brewery Co.)

Suga: As for food, I don't like green beans, celery, and other things that share a similar taste. My favorite food is sushi! Eel especially. Oh, and soba. I really like Japanese foods in general. My parents own a sushi restaurant, but I actually hated it. The raw stuff they made wasn't good at all. I would always eat dinner at the counter, and the last thing they would serve me is toro (tuna), or something else I hated, so I couldn't leave until I ate it (laughs). I would eat it while crying, and say, "Are you for real?…Dad…" (laughs). I overcame raw foods when I was in junior high, and now I don't have anything I don't like.

Suga: For the past few years, I've really gotten into Kabuki. The fact that I wore a kimono when I went to Washington DC for the stage production of "THE SAMURAI" was an incredible feeling. I was playing the role of a ninja at that time. If you say "ninja", you're considered a superhero over there. It made me think that Japanese classics are something I can proudly share with the world. At that time, I also had the opportunity to meet the sister of a Kabuki and Noh actor, and their movements were completely different from mine. They have to decide on what to decide on. Even the way they stand, the way they walk, and the way they step are all different. I think these kinds of things must have there roots in Kabuki, right? That's why I go to see Kabuki plays.

Suga: Wearing a kimono makes me feel refreshed, or rather, it's almost calming…It's like it's in my DNA. I'm not sure what I'm saying, but it just makes me feel better. I like that feeling of being relaxed. "Fasten your obi" makes you feel tense, doesn't it? I think that's where the expression "Tighten up" comes from.

Suga: The costumes of the stage actors are also incredibly gorgeous. It's like, a ten flower pattern, or a variety of patterns…the four seasons are represented by these patterns. If you look closely you'll say, "Ah, cherry blossoms. It's Spring." Kabuki has been around for about 300 years. And they've hardly change the model at all. When I think, "People 300 years ago must have watched the same kind of thing," I shiver…it makes me feel something. Kamen Rider has a long history, but I can feel the spirit of those who have been doing it within the previous century. I thought there was a connection between "Rider" and "Transformation." Kabuki actors wear makeup…you paint it white with black shading for villains, a single layer of red for good actors, and so on. In a sense, this is a transformation. I would watch it and think, "Transformation, there must be some similarities between the two."

Suga: Ryuki is a work that will surely be interesting enough for even your mother to watch, so please watch it without getting bored or dropping it. Finally, make sure to watch how Shinji Kido will grow, don't forget that there's a 24 year old guy named Takamasa Suga, and most importantly, don't forget to pay attention. I mean it! (laughs).

"FACE UP 2002" Part 2: Satoshi Matsuda (page 7)

Matsuda: The filming is rather interesting. However, all three directors are extremely talented. When the director changed, I felt as if there were alot of scenes that seemed incomplete. When I first heard about the change, it made me think that we're still not ready for this. However, I'm looking forward to this change up, since I've already learned how to play.

Matsuda: When Suga-kun and I talk together, we mainly talk about serious things. The scenes between the two of us will be the best part of the show, and by the time Summer rolls around, both of us will have improved in many ways, as we've decided to grow together, even if it's just the two of us. Even on the location bus, we're always rehearsing our lines.

Matsuda: Dinner on location is served rather early, isn't it? I eat at 6, or 7 at the latest, but I'm still hungry by the time I get home. If I get up around 11 to eat again, and work late into the night, I end up eating five meals a day. Recently though, I've had a personal obsession with the pasta series sold at convenience stores. It's a very popular trend to buy a certain dish the night before, cook it in the morning, then eat. It's delicious. I like the peperoncino ones the most.

Matsuda: For favorite foods, I've actually been incredibly unbalanced lately, as I've been eating alot of steak. I like meat. There's a steak restaurant in my neighborhood that's famous for its quality. I end up eating alot of food there. I'm also thin but gluttonous. If I eat a big meal, I gain weight, however, I also tend to lose weight quickly. I'm actually proud of this, as I have no food likes or dislikes. I love natto, I like bell peppers, I like anything really. I've also eaten frogs and other luxury foods. It tastes more like chicken meat than actual chicken. It's still shaped like a frog though.

Matsuda: Cooking is a pain in the ass. Like boiling pasta in the morning, you know? Although, sometimes on Sunday nights, I do think to myself, "Maybe I'll try to make that~." For me, pork kimchi, pasta in general, and paella are the only things I can make. Paella happened by chance. In the past, some of my friends decided, "Let's eat paella together," so I looked it up in a book and worked really hard to make it. When I served it, everyone said, "It's delicious!," and it made me so happy, that I ended up making it over and over again. As I've fed it to multiple people, it's become a perfected paella (laughs). Before I knew it, I could make paella without looking at a recipe, however I still can't make curry (laughs).

Matsuda: I'm finicky. I've always been that way, even when it comes to toys. It doesn't matter what it is. I feel that lure fishing, which is mainly a hobby for elementary school children, has reached a point where perhaps I should outgrow it. I don't have it anymore, but I was most happy when I caught fish using a lure I made myself out of balsa wood. I used it until it started falling apart. There are lures on the market that can catch more than 100 fish, but the paint peels easily…on the other hand though, the peeling paint seems to actually attract a lot of fish, doesn't it? And the minnow lures are shaped just like the small fish.

Matsuda: There's this book that I thought looked interesting at the bookstore. It's a book that I can read in my spare time, as it's something like a cross between a children's book and a regular book. I think it's incredibly easy to understand. It's a book with a strong message, and its appearance is like the title, so the impact is also strong. The concept of this book is to have a better world view, or atleast that what I think…sometimes I buy books like this. Books that are like, "What does it mean to be human?," and such.

Matsuda: The gap between the characters played by Suga-kun and myself in Ryuki is very clear, and will be very easy to watch, which is why opinions are already divided. There will be those who will only like Ryuki, Knight, Shinji or Ren. In that sense, I see Suga-kun as my rival, but we are working together everyday to produce the best work we can. Please look forward to watching and supporting us, as we try our best with filming on location.

"FACE UP 2002" Part 3: Ayano Sugiyama (page 9)

Sugiyama: My favorite foods are vegetables and fruits. I especially like hot vegetables. I recently conquered natto, but instead of just eating it plain, I eat it with kimchi and grated daikon. Since I discovered this way of eating it, I enjoy it so much, that I eat it every day.

Sugiyama: I can also cook by myself! On days when I can stay home until after 10 a.m., I'll make my own miso soup. I like Japanese food, but in the winter, the only thing growing are all the stumps, and the piles of straw in the shape of houses. I always thought people lived in them (laughs). I'd like to live in them~ (laughs). The other day I made chikuzenni. I'll always have it with kinpira gobo. I've also been cooking for my mother more recently, and she'll say, "I'm so happy, it's delicious, I'm really enjoying this!"

Sugiyama: Today we filmed episodes 5 and 6. Finally, Yui-chan was attacked. At first, I wasn't sure about my role as Yui, but everyone said, "We'll help you," to which I responded with a, "Yay!" I had kept thinking, "What am I going to do! oh man…", but when I finally saw their vision of Yui-chan, what did I think? Isn't she kind of strong willed?…It was totally different from what I was expecting, and there are some parts of her where I thought "huh?," but overall I'm really happy. Today, Knight, or rather Ren, saved me. I'm attacked by the third Rider. It's strange, isn't it? Because in this series, they're all fighting against each other…

Sugiyama: When I was small, I loved "Changeman," with ChangeGriffon being my favorite. What I'm really into right now…is Disney, I love it. That's why I've been collecting alot of Disney merchandise lately. Not only is it my favorite, I need all the support I can get right now, so it's the only thing on my mind.

Sugiyama: When we're on location, it's very early in the morning. I feel amazing though. A special skill of mine, is that I can fall asleep in 30 seconds. I;m able to fall asleep very quickly. When they say we're traveling by location bus, I have to get my favorite schedule book ready. The pattern in it changes depending on the month. I have alot of plans right now, so I always keep a schedule book on me at all times. Sometimes, I'll also write in my diary. My most favorite one has "The Little Mermaid" on it. I'd like to become a mermaid~. When I was a kid, I watched The Little Mermaid so many times on video and would always cry. I also loved "Beauty and the Beast," which also made me cry. I'm guess I'm abit of a crybaby (zzz…). Recently, I was in the makeup room talking with everyone while waiting, when suddenly, without realizing it, everyone became quiet and I feel asleep. I was already a good sleeper, but now even more so. I've been sleeping even better thanks to Ryuki (laughs).

Sugiyama: Ryuki has a bitter feeling, including the battles between the riders. Because of the strong interactions between people, I think it might be alittle difficult for smaller children to understand, but, I think adults and even high schoolers will enjoy it. Furthermore, it's very bizarre. I haven't revealed everything, about Ren-kun and Yui…but, it will slowly be revealed.

Sugiyama: I really like to move my body. I like to go out to take walks and do other things. I'll usually walk around the neighborhood at a brisk pace for about 40 minutes. I'll walk past 3 train stations to have dinner and say, "I've met my goal~!" I tend to walk on the roads of the local rice fields. The atmosphere of rice field is completely different depending on the season. In the Spring, the fields are covered with lotus roots, and in the Summer, it's flooded and rice planting begins. In the Fall, the rice ears stick out and dragonflies are everywhere.

Sugiyama: Ryuki and Knight's Suga-san and Matsuda-san are both cool, but I'd like everyone to also focus on Yui-chan as well. Furthermore, if you see me on location or at a fan meeting, please don't hesitate to call me "Yui-chan." I love children too, so taking pictures is totally OK, in fact, I'd be more than happy.

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the-desert-beast · 6 months ago

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The Black Wolf Brewery

"Within Lion's Arch you'll find many kinds of criminal. Some, are sly, inconspicuous. Others, are brazen and brutish."

"Some, you'll never even know were there, right in front of you."

"Of these sorts of 'hidden in plain sight criminals' you'll find out dear friends, the blackwolf brewery. A simple brewery, that has been closed and shut up for years. Or so the newest owner would have us all think. Their name is unknown to nearly all but myself. Esyld runs quite the little business out of that musty old shack she calls a 'brewery.' I've never been allowed inside. I've never been allowed near her 'family' either, but people talk if you have the mind to listen. Kirari never shuts up when she wanders the streets at night. My theory is that, for one reason or another, I am immune to that little memory wipe charm that hangs from her ear. Whenever I ask other people about her passing by just the night before, they look at me like they've never even seen a woman before. They can recall everything from the night before, except Kirari's presence. Her brother Yuuji isn't always subtle either. He's quite awkward at the shops, quite blunt some days. I can barely read the Miyake siblings. Although, Yuuji seems to have a soft spot for one of the shopkeepers he visits every other morning. A young man. I've pestered the boy about Yuuji's presence but he too, never can recall the Miyake's face. I noticed just yesterday his new earring. Curious. Are they onto me? Or is it a precaution?"

"If Esyld has caught on that I've been watching them all, she'd rend me to pieces. Best to keep it subtle in the coming weeks. That revenant was always too clever for the rest of them. Lucky little me, that I'm never considered a threat. Too pretty or frail I suppose. Esyld of all people would know a pretty face hides a thousand lies."

"Arlais is the most difficult to trail, I can never tell when those, 'ghosts' or whatever they are of her's have spotted me or not. Rangers. She never leaves the brewery either, she's always within line of sight of that place. Dedicated, I'll give her that. Gods that woman has legs- I wish she were as short as I am, maybe then I could keep up without risking her pets spotting me so easily. "

"Last of all, there's Iniss. They barely ever leave the underground. Eachtime I've spotted them leaving it's always late at night when I'm trailing one of the other nightowls."

"All of this information is useless unless someone has a death-wish! The entire company keeps their deals and smuggling perfectly underwraps, I've never even seen one holding a package for nightmare's sake! Iniss nearly caught me the other night as well, now I have to think of a way to cover my tracks."

The journal entry ends there, the pages stained with blood. No skilled informant would ever allow a mole to squeak, or be so blind. Kirari hums to herself on her way back to the brewery, Esyld should be pleased.

aka, I wanted to talk about my EU alt OCs crew, and this is the braincell that struck me. so we got Esyld, (she/it/any), revenant, kingpin. sylvari, ex-nightmare court. butch pansexual. ⬆ these two are siblings ⬇ Iniss, (they/them), masculine honorifics; mister, king, brother, boyfriend, etc. Thief, weapons collector & smuggler. sylvari, ex-nightmare court. gay. (wriothesley from genshin impact inspired.) Miyake Kirari, she/her, mesmer, informant. allegedly human. (Secretly a mists demon Kitsune) (yae miko from genshin impact inspired.) sexuality; wouldnt you like to know weather boy Miyake Yuuji, he/any, elementalist, manager of sales & inquirys. (kamisato ayato from genshin impact inspired.) queer. Arlais, she/any, debt collector, ranger. human, canthan descent. (ningguang from genshin impact inspired.) lesbian.

The blackwolf brewery; an old brewery thats been abandoned for years. esyld bought it after rising through underground ranks and raising enough money to have her own crew.

#ocs: blackwolf crew #ocposting #gw2 ocs #gw2 #myocs

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deathofpeaceofmiiind · 11 months ago

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high infidelity | two

Put on your records and regret meeting me, I bent the truth too far tonight I was dancing around it *Noah’s POV* Damn, this girl was something else. I won’t ever admit it but I saw her and her friends before I even went on stage. During the show I was looking for my in-ears backstage and I saw her from the corner of my eye with her friends. I had to chuckle watching them dance around and sing every word during Dayseeker’s set. She stuck out amongst her friends though, her long jet black hair, bright red lips and golden skin really caught my attention…she had this glow about her that I couldn’t describe. When we came onto the stage I found her immediately and had a hard time keeping my eyes off her. Every time I walked past her, I kept noticing new things about her. She had a rose tattoo on her sternum, Roman numerals down the side of her neck and a full sleeve of butterflies and peonies on her right arm. I even made a conscious effort to sit near her during Who are you? and as soon as I saw her bright green eyes flash at me, it was game over. I knew I needed to meet her. Then I met her without even trying.

You can’t tell me that wasn’t fate even though it was super embarrassing she found me in the women’s bathroom. I thought I was in the clear since it was just my band and crew backstage but that was a terrible calculation. Also have you shared a bathroom with a bunch of other dudes? Sometimes you just need your own space and the women’s bathroom had a bigger shower.

She really did have to use the bathroom so I gave her some privacy but I waited outside in the hall for her. Her scent of salted caramel and vanilla lingered under my nose and I couldn’t get enough. The guys and I were going to head to a brewery after the show and since Seattle wasn’t far we planned to travel there in the morning instead of overnight. This was our first time in Vancouver so we wanted to make the best of it.

I texted our photographer Bryan about her before putting my phone back in my pocket. He was surprised at my actions considering that I never entertained women on the road, let alone a fan. Something was telling me she was different. I heard the hand dryer going in the bathroom before she opened the door. Her eyes widened as she saw me standing there. “So do you just hang out inside and outside women’s bathrooms?” “Yeah, I was told if I got caught again it would be my third strike.” She laughed and had a huge smile on her face. Fuck, even her smile was gorgeous. She flashed me her green eyes again and I could’ve melted at her feet. God what was she doing to me…

“Sorry, I hope this isn’t too forward, but me and the guys are heading to this brewery down the road. Do you want to come?” “Sure. I’ll just text my friends, they’re back here somewhere.” She replies as she pulls her phone out. I catch myself watching her every move. Her nails were painted a dark maroon and she had the hidden leaf village symbol from Naruto tattooed on her thumb. I smirked, not what I was expecting us to have in common. “I just realized I never caught your name.” I managed to get out. Her eyes find mine and suddenly I’m putty in her hands. “Elliot, but you can call me El.” Why was that suddenly the most beautiful name I have ever heard? *Elliots POV*

Before I knew it we were all sitting at a large table at this cozy brewery having drinks with Bad Omens and their crew. My brain couldn’t process what was going on at all. The boys seemed to have picked one of my friends to talk to and we were hitting it off really well. Noah went up to order some beers for us, I offered him my credit card but he said this round was on him. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him as he walked back to me. “I really couldn’t decide what to get so I got some of those beer flight things to try everything.” He smirked as he sat beside me. His leg brushed against mine and blood rushed to my cheeks again. “That works for me.” I shrugged. “Everything here is really good.” Noah crosses his arms on the table and brings his gaze to me. Those beautiful brown eyes were causing me to go into a spiral. The brewery was so loud but damn, when he looked at me it got quiet. He had a way of making you feel like you were the only one in the room. I was trying so damn hard to not get caught up in it because I didn’t know who he really was. For all I know he could do this every night when he was on tour. I also wanted to live in the delusion that I was the first girl he ever asked out after a show. Get a grip, Elliot. “Do you come here much?” He asked breaking the silence and snapping me back into reality. “I’ve been here a few times, but there’s just so much to choose from living here.” “Do you have a favourite?” “Yeah I do. There’s actually a bar in my neighbourhood I go to a lot. It’s actually a wine bar where they make their own wines, they have the comfiest couches and the best charcuterie boards.” “Sounds like my kind of place.”

Our drinks come to the table and he immediately wrapped his hands around the darkest beer we got. I grabbed one of the lighter looking beers and look a sip of it before we swapped to try each others. Both of our faces scrunched up in disgust before we immediately switched glasses again. I studied the tattoos on his hands as he grabbed the cold glass from me, noticing the heart he had on one of his fingers. I forgot what we were talking about…

“I really like Vancouver so far.” He continued. “It’s like Seattle but the people are way nicer.” “Canada is definitely the superior country.” I chuckled.

He raised his eyebrow at me before moving onto the next beer, “Well, I am looking for a new home base.”

“Not loving California anymore?” “It’s not that I don’t like it…” He pauses to take a sip of his beer. “I’ve always wanted to live in the Pacific northwest area. The weather is more to my liking and people seem to leave us alone. I really like my privacy and people in LA are starting to recognize us more and more. I know it comes with the territory but after quarantine I realized how important it is to have a home base where you can be yourself.” “I get that.” I replied. “Every one deserves to have a safe space to come home to every night.” “Do you have that?”

“I’m working on it.” I muttered, knowing my home life was in absolute shambles. The more drinks we had the more comfortable we got with each other, not like we needed that much liquid courage though. We talked like old lovers picking up where we left off and I admired how respectful he was being towards me. I put my hand over his by accident but he didn’t seem to mind, he just squeezed my hand with a Cheshire Cat smile on his face. I noticed he had the same Naruto tattoo on his hand that I had and we ended up having a long conversation about the anime. We oddly seemed to have the same opinions on it and he showed me a photo of his thigh tattoo of Itachi he recently got. A few moments later I excused myself to the bathroom to gain my composure. I pulled out my phone and found my lawyers number. It was time. “I’m ready.” “Come see me tomorrow…I’m so proud of you for finally doing this, Ellie.” I took a few more breaths before walking back towards our table. I sat beside Noah and his cheeks were getting rosy, it was beyond adorable. His hand grazed over my thighs as he reached for my hand again. Euphoria filled my body and didn’t want it to stop, I didn’t want him to stop touching me. “Do you want to get out of here?” Noah whispered in my ear. “Wow you move fast.” I joked as I pushed his hair out of his face, almost pouting because his hair was so much shorter now. Still, it gave him a Disney prince kind of vibe that I adored. “Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just wondering if you wanted to go for a walk or go somewhere more quiet.”

“A walk at this time of night? Are you going to murder me, Noah?” “Oh god no - I was - I -um-“ He was stuttering over his words and I couldn’t help but laugh. He was getting more embarrassed and covered his face with his hands. “I’m kidding Noah.” I reassured him by moving his hands away from his face, “there’s another bar I like we can go to. It’s attached to the Hyatt down the street.” “That’s our hotel.” He smirked before finishing off his beer. We got up from the table and said our goodbyes to our friends. Danielle shot me a look and I just shrugged my shoulders at her cause I had no idea what I was doing. We got outside and started to walk towards his hotel slowly, we didn’t say much but he reached for my hand and I grabbed his with no hesitation. After seeing his bands reaction to us leaving together, it definitely told me he didn’t do this very often. This started to feel genuine and I knew I had to tell him the truth. Noah’s POV She was such a calculated risk and I knew that. Honestly, I wasn’t really one to find a girl at our show and try to take her home. Most of the guys would invite some of our female fans to chill with us but I wasn’t interested. All these girls just wanted to be with us because of who we were. Sure, Elliot knew who we were but after spending time with her she made me feel like she saw past the bullshit and saw me as just Noah. She stopped halfway up the stairs to our hotel and her energy had shifted as she dropped my hand. Her green eyes deepened as she looked up at me, causing my heart dropped into my stomach. “Noah, I need to tell you something.” “You can tell me anything.” I partially lied because I didn’t want to know what was next. “I’m in the process of getting divorced.” She bit her lip and looked down at her feet. “I wanted to tell you sooner but...” Go figure, the first women I’ve fallen for in years was still married. “What?” I could feel my voice trembling. I looked at her and I see tears forming in her eyes. I knew this wasn’t an easy thing for her to tell me, but I couldn’t fight off the anger that was boiling inside of me. “So you wanted to see where this was gonna go before dropping a bomb like that? “Noah…Please.” A few tears fell down her face as she looked at me. “Can you blame me? You’re in a fucking band! How the fuck was I supposed to know you don’t take a girl home every night?” “So this is my fucking fault then? You assumed I just fuck my way though my tours?” “NO!” She yelled at me causing a few people to look at us. “No…” She repeated, this time in a whisper. I could feel my own tears forming as I felt myself losing her before I even had her. She looked in the opposite direction of me and I could see her mascara starting to run down her face. I wanted to desperately wipe it away but my heart was telling me to walk away and forget about her. I swore off love years ago and I should’ve kept it that way. “Good night Elliot.”

#noah sebastian #bad omens #fanfic

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calmthefuckdownalright · 2 years ago

Note

Hi! Can I request headcanons for a few different Wilbur versions (do whichever ones you’d like, please include Ghostbur tho) with a reader who likes to steal their sweaters/uniforms? Thank you!

A/N: We love some cute Fluff pieces 😁. I'm gonna do scenarios with HC bits under them instead of the usual HC format bc its just easier and more fun

<><><><><><><><><><>

Ghostbur

"Y/N Darling have you seen my-" Ghostbur spots you on one of the counters of his brewery snuggled up with your knees to your chest and covered by a way oversized yellow sweater that obviously belongs to him.

"Oh hey Love." You wave at him with a sleeve covered palm. Your hand is no where to be seen under the yellow fabric and on top your knees, again completely covered by the sweater, is a book. A book stained with blue on the cover and scribble handwriting for the title.

"What're you doing down here?" Ghostbur smiled and stepped over a puddle to your side.

"Reading your potions recipes." You responded and tucked your chin under the sunshine colored wool.

"Are you cold?" He asked with a smile and you nodded. Ghostbur tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and moved an empty brewing stand so he could sit beside you and read out what words you couldn't read due to a smudge of blue dye or slip of his handwriting.

"Y/N?" Ghostbur poked his head into your room after you responded he could come in.

"Just back here Ghostbur." You called out and he followed your voice. You were sorting something and as he approached he recognized SEVERAL of his own clothes. Sweaters of differing shades of yellow and cool tans alone with a few sky blue ones he hardly wore.

"Is this where they've all gone?!" Ghostbur exclaimed with a bright smile. He slipped his arms around your waist from behind and hovered up to put his chin on your head.

"What? Your sweaters?" You smiled mischievously. "Yeah, I get cold at night so I stole a few and then a few turned into a few more."

"You could've come found me." Ghostbur pouted a little and you turned around and pulled him down to your level, giving him a kiss to the cheek.

"I know but you wander sometimes and come back smelling like the sewer. These sweaters always smell like you." You protested.

"Well if you're going to keep stealing them I'm gonna have tio ask you to let me see how you look in them." Ghostbur begged and tickled you until you gave in and gave him a front row seat to your own fashion show.

All the same pants but several upon several oversized sweaters with blue stains down the middle and flowers seemingly sprouting from some.

Ghostbur loves it when you wear his clothes in other words. He likes how you look so swallowed by them and how warm you seem. How happy.

He tries to stop wandering and smelling like the sewer when he comes back so that you snuggle him instead of stealing his clothes.

Don't get him wrong, he loves seeing you just walking around in one of his sweaters but the guy has to wear something.

Deep down I think he feels like you going in public in his sweaters is kind of like a mark of him. Like everyone knows your his now. Deep down I think Ghostbur likes that aspect as a reminder that he still is a fragment of Alivebur.

Speaking of....

Alivebur (Pogtopia Era)

Wilbur hung his head where he stood in front the Nether portal and sighed heavily. It was pointless to try and win L'manberg back. They were tied and doubts were creeping in. Poor Tommy. Wilbur thought of Tommy now and how crushed he would be if they lost their nation to Dream and Schlatt.

"Would that really be so bad?" Wilbur thought and surprised himself. L'manberg was his melody. His symphonic masterpiece.

"Wil? You alright in there?" Your voice snapped him back to the living world and he turned around to see you. His sweet Melody. You were his anchor. If not fight for Tommy or L'manberg then you.

"Woah Darling what're you wearing?" Wilbur chuckled as he spotted your attire. A black and orange jacket that engulfed your arms and bore the logo of what looked like a gas station pump.

"I found this in a chest and thought it looked warm. The draft was getting to me." You explained and held our your arms to reveal the sleeves much too long. "But I think it's a little big."

"Well obviously. Could you not tell it was mine?" Wilbur lifted the hanging sleeve and found your hand under the fabric. He made quick work to shoving his hand down the sleeve and intertwining it with your fingers. A chill ran across his own and he realized just how cold you were.

"Really? It is?" Wilbur examined the old thing and felt nostalgic of L'manberg and his first moments in this new place so far from his desert homeland. Of course he hadn't told you about Utah yet and didn't plan on it either.

"Yeah. Its got my initials on the tag and everything." Wilbur pointed our and pulled you close to him. "Though you can keep it. Old thing needs a new home anyway." Wilbur smiled and kissed you softly. Your free hand came and cupped his cheek with the sleeve limp against his face as well.

This made him smile. His beautiful Song engulfed in his jacket. A perfect picture untouched by the madness that crept in his heart.

"Darling why are you wearing that?" Wilbur asked with a sharp edge taking his voice to a lower level. You stood before him wearing his trench coat and a beanie the color of fresh blood over your ears and framing your face rather beautifully. Wilbur couldn't deny even now in his foul mood that you looked pretty.

"It's cold and my coat practically falls off my shoulders. Techno's potatoes aren't exactly the most filling thing." You responded and curled beside him under the oak tree he sat against.

It was raining and Wilbur was brooding. The ravine echoed horribly like a train was rumbling above them when it rained and it often conflicted with the rebellion leader's thoughts. (How ironic for the state of his future.)

"I'm sorry." Wilbur muttered and kissed your head absently.

"Do you mind me wearing your clothes?" You asked him shakily and Wilbur realized how pissed he must've sounded.

"Oh no! Not at all. As long as you're comfortable my love." Wilbur thought of his plan. His promise to Tommy if they lost and what would happen to him, to you both, after it was done. "I was just irritated at myself, I'm sorry for my tone."

"I know this is stressful Wil. Don't worry, we'll get L'manberg back." You said and rested your head against his shoulder.

"Promise me Darling that whatever happens to me you'll stay this optimistic." Wilbur laughed and you smiled faintly, sleep already taking you from his words.

Pog!Alivebur really doesn't mind. As long as you're safe and warm he doesn't care and actually encourages it. I don't have a lot else to say really.

He knows what's going to happen soon and just wants your last moments with him to be happy ones. Even if he is a brooding emo villain boy at the time.

Alivebur (L'manberg Era)

Wilbur crept through your cottage carefully. The night chirped with his footsteps as he avoided the creaky planks from the poor architecture. Once L'manberg was finally at peace he'd build you a real house with a cellar to keep all your fancy wines, or whatever you collected, and a shed out back for storage, and a porch that you could watch the sunset on next to him. For now though he had to focus on not waking you.

Wilbur poked his head into your room slowly and nearly tripped over himself as he stood up straight in the doorway. You didn't have any blankets and only one pillow that was bent to rest under your head and be held by your soft hands close to your chest.

For warmth you were snuggled under what appeared in the moonlit room as his uniform coat. The startling blue fabric encompassed you completely and Wilbur couldn't help but stare.

"Wil?" You muttered and only then did Wilbur realize he had walked over and was caressing your cheek gently as if it were porcelain.

"Y/N? Is that you?" Wilbur rubbed at his eyes and shuffled over the grass to your side. It was late and you couldn't sleep.

Ever since the war had been declared you hadn't felt safe going home so you were living in the van with your general boyfriend and his forever cooking potions.

"Did I wake you?" You clutched the coat that swallowed your body closely against the bitter night wind.

"No of course not. I just got colder than usual. " Wilbur kissed your temple and put his head on your shoulder. "Are you wearing my coat?" He asked.

"Oh yeah, I thought it would be chilly out here so I grabbed it. Do you want it back?" You begin to shrug off the blue fabric but a hand stops you abruptly.

"No No, you keep it. It's about time Dream sees who's side you're on." Wilbur smiles.

"Only yours Wilbur."

"That's just what I wanted to hear Darling."

He melts honestly. Ugh and when you take it off and it smells like you? Instant joy.

Wilbur is a man of passion and to see one of the things he's passionate about sporting one of his jackets or sweaters or whatever it just destroys him.

You've tried wearing his glasses a few times but that doesn't always work out bc he ends up not being able to see you all that well.

Simpbur

Wilbur didn't pay attention to his clothes a lot so you thought it'd be fine if you took one of his spare sweaters. Just one from the stash he kept at your apartment. Nothing serious and it wasn't like you were going to steal it forever, you were just cold and lonely now.

"Y/n, why are you wearing that?" A growl responded to the jump of your body to the sound of a creaking door.

Turns out his lack of attention to such objects does not decline their attachment value.

"I got cold. Sorry, you weren't home and I needed to work in the garden so a sweater seemed more practical than a blanket-"

"Why are you still talking? Of course it's fine, but if you're going to wear my clothes go out in them." Wilbur was clingy when he was home and was practically rubbing on you like a cat. "Show the world that you're mine." He uttered in your ear and a chill ran along your arms.

"Are you still cold? Why don't we go to bed early, or take a hot shower. It's been a long day darling, lets just spend the night together. You can wear my jumper and boxers if you'd like." Wilbur nuzzled your neck and you chuckled.

Wilbur was sweet like that. You'd do something you'd never done before and he'd basically get right on board with it like now.

"Wil you're gonna smother me!"

Simpbur is very encouraging about this kind of stuff. He adores you in his clothes and just wants to show the world that you're his for sure in such a way.

Might seem a little angry at first but really he's just kicking himself for not thinking of such a scenario in his head already, like damn. He's a creative musician madly in love and he didn't think of the most cliche couple thing ever? Ugh.

Revivebur

Revivebur wasnt exactly the most attentive partner after his second chance and for a while he wasn't around at all and you didn't so much as see a glimpse of his shadow around the SMP. Then one day when you're curled up in an old sweater you found laying around he barges back into your life like he hadn't just ignored you for half a year.

"Darling darling I am so so sorry I've been away, I've had to see everything since my revival and I just-" He stops dead in his theatrics and pauses on the moth bitten item of clothing you wear.

"What is that?" He asks. You look down at the fabric, analyzing the deep blue stain running down the middle and droplets of the same color right along the collar.

"An old sweater of yours. From when you were first here." You mutter and pull the sleeves over your hands in melancholy contentment.

"Take it off." Wilbur's voice demanded.

"Excuse me? You hardly have any authority to tell me what to do right now and much less to tell me, no to demand, that I remove a SINGLE article of clothing when you've hardly as much as looked my way since you earned your 'new lease on life!'" You were in Wilbur's face before you knew it and an incredulous look was on his own. A response quick on his tongue as he hissed.

"Darling, I know I've done you wrong but if you're going to wear my clothes its not going to be remnants of a weak and pitiful man that has been dead for nearly fifteen years." Wilbur was quiet in his words and his hands made quick work of keeping you close to his chest, his lips a ghost over the shell of your ear.

"There'll be plenty of time for the 'removing of clothing' as you put it, after we talk like civilized people."

"I loved that 'weak and pitiful man' and the ghost that replaced him. You are hardly a shell of what they were." You shit back. You thought Wilbur would be the same when you got the news of his new life. You should've read the clues of the ones who told you. The grave faces and sunken eyes, the grief and fear that laced their words like drugs in candy at a college party.

"You take that back." Wilbur growled and you pulled away from his tight grip.

"I'm going to talk to you Wilbur but I will not apologize until you prove yourself worthy of the same love I gave to Alivebur and Ghostbur." You stated and clung to the stained sweater. It didn't matter if the stain was the blood of the man before you or the one that died November 16th, this was Wilbur's sweater and it was all you had right now.

This was the only scenario I could really think of for Revivbur bc I've only been able to imagine him as very possessive and dismissed of his past selves, so yeah. Very aggressive and kind of *ahem* needy when he finally says hello to you.

<><><><><><><><><><>

I know I know its not exactly "Stealing Clothing HC's" or whatever but I thought it was cute and fit the request. If you would like me to do it again but in a different way you're welcome to request that. I'm also not opposed to doing a specific HC bit for just one of the Bursonas if that is what some of you would enjoy as well.

Anyway, hope you all liked it. I know I said it would've been out yesterday but an emergency came up considering my Thanksgiving celebration and had to be addressed by moi.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone and see you all very soon 💛💙

#ghostbur x reader #revivedbur x reader #simpbur x reader #alivebur #c!wilbur soot x reader #c!wilbur #c!wilbur soot #dreamsmp #dream smp #dsmp #dsmp c!wilbur #wilbur soot #ghostbur #requests open #requested

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tododeku-or-bust · 2 months ago

Text

Y'all I had the funniest fandom/OC crossover dream last night.

So there was this bar, like a brewery type bar or whatever. And it was for vampires. So naturally, Lestat and Louis are there (Claudia had retired for the night, Louis would end up following her but that's another dream I had). Ofc Lestat is being himself, drawing a crowd.

So anyway, in walks in Achilles, Patroclus, and my OC their daughter Philia. I guess they're vampires too. So they get drinks, they're laughing, having a good time, across the room. Philia is talking to a group of some people, and Lestat turns and he sees her. And he does that weird, wide eyed obsessive look he gets when something interests him.

At that moment, Philia's entire view gets cut off because Achilles steps in, sips from his whiskey, places the cup on the table, and folds his arms on said table. He looks Lestat right in the eye, crazy white man to crazy white man. Across the room, everyone's still moving, and they're having a full silent interaction.

It's a look that says "if you gone razzle, I'm gone dazzle, so what's good? Is this what you want?"

Y'all, I have never subconsciously cackled while watching my own dreams before 🤣🤣. Achilles was not having it, not his baby! This is a household where we love and respect our Black husband and daughter 🤣

Anyway, Philia clearly must not have been worth the smoke, because Lestat just cuts his eyes and goes back to what he's doing. Man. I wish Claudia had been there for that. Woulda made her day. And she'd have had another Black girl vampire to talk to 😭 but yeah I was proud in that moment. I know that's right. 😤

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polutrope · 11 months ago

Note

For the holiday prompts:

26. Accidental drunkenness with Celegorm, Caranthir, and Curufin! Thank you, love your writing 🤍

Amazing prompt Anon, and thank you! This is also for @melestasflight who requested Caranthir with the same prompt and @grey-gazania who requested Caranthir + Ugly sweaters. 1.5k words, Rated T for a lot of swearing and drunkenness. These guys are awful. Posting these to AO3, here. Prompt list (prompts closed). Little context: Curufin owns a craft brewery and Celegorm works for him. Maglor's referenced boyfriend is Daeron. See Beleria Cast of Characters for the full scoop!

Curufin cleared their empty glasses and wiped a wet cloth over the bar. He didn’t usually like to drink at work, even after closing, but they’d tapped a keg of the new Red River Winter Ale to sample.

Curufin had been wound tight all month worrying that it wouldn’t be ready for bottling in time for Yule gifting — and it barely was. But it had turned out perfect: not too heavy, with a warm spice. He’d use the late release to his advantage, slapping plain handwritten labels on the bottles and marketing them to panicked shoppers as a limited release last-minute gift. They could sell the rest of the batch under a new label in the New Year.

That weight off his shoulders, combined with the loosening effect of the alcohol, had put Curufin in a light mood. But not so light that he fell for Celegorm’s suggestion to have another pint. It was a Tuesday, and while that might make no difference to Celegorm, he had to get Celebrimbor to school in the morning.

“How did you get here?” he asked Celegorm, who was mopping the floors.

“I rode the bike. Why? You need a ride?”

Curufin shrugged. He’d hoped his brother would say he’d taken the bus. He wouldn’t have minded the company on his commute tonight. A ride would be nice, in theory, but Curufin hated being crammed on the back of Celegorm’s motorcycle.; he hated being forced to cling to his brother like a limpet as Celegorm careened around the corners… but it was a cold, and late…

“I can take transit,” he said.

“Yeah, I know you can. But you just asked me how I got here, sooo.” Celegorm dropped the mop in the bucket and crossed the floor. “You’re obviously looking for a ride. I can drop you off, bro-nut, no worries.” His hand came down hard on Curufin’s shoulder and he jolted forward.

“I’m still your boss until your shift’s over, Tyelko,” Curufin grumbled. “So you can’t hit me.”

“Oh? I assumed my shift was over when we poured the brewskies.”

“It wasn’t,” said Curufin. He sighed, considering the pros and cons of accepting a ride—

—when the front door banged open.

Curufin shot daggers at Celegorm. “What the fuck, you didn’t lock the—! We’re closed!” he shouted at the intruder.

He was cut short by the entrance of a tall, black-haired man with an unmistakable red mark on his left cheek, currently dimpled by a broad grin. Caranthir gave a throaty laugh at the look of shock on his brother’s faces.

“Moryo!” Celegorm bounded across the room and smothered him in a hug. Curufin twitched sympathetically. “When the fuck did you get into town? Didn’t think you’d be here until the twenty-fourth. How you been? ”

Celegorm might as well have been Huan, yapping and bouncing around his brother as if they hadn’t just seen him two weeks ago.

“Never mind that,” said Curufin, “what the fuck are you wearing?”

He sneered, indicating the heinous sweater his brother had on: a chunky red knit that looked like someone’s first disastrous venture into a new hobby. Too short in the sleeves and too wide in the torso, with an awful depiction of a light-garlanded cat (orange, clashing terribly), snarling in what might have been intended as a smile but which looked like an oddly anthropomorphic grimace.

“Oh yeah,” Caranthir said, spreading his arms to display the garment. “It’s hideous isn’t it? It was free, though. Don’t get rich saying no to free shit, Curvo.”

Curufin rolled his eyes. “You’re absurd. So why are you here?”

“Got some freight I can’t take to the port until the morning so I’m here for the night. Then it’s back east and time to replenish my social arsenal before I hunker down in the trenches for the battle of Yuletide.”

By which he meant spending three full days with their family. Many (Fëanor chief among them) were baffled as to why Caranthir, who had been offered scholarships to pursue a PhD fully-funded by some of the best economics programs in Endor, had instead taken up a career as a long-haul trucker. Curufin wasn’t. It wasn’t about the job, which he hardly needed with his investments. It was about the solitude. Curufin could relate. Curufin resented him for it.

“Do Mom and Dad know you’re here?” Curufin asked.

“Hell no, and don’t you dare tell them. ’All’s they know I’m not here until the twenty-fourth like I said. Anyway stop being such a dick, Curvo — you should be honoured that I chose to spend this precious evening off with you.”

He, too, slammed his hand down on Curufin’s shoulder. Curufin withdrew behind the bar to shield himself from any further assaults.

“As if.” Curufin snorted. “You’re only here because Cáno wouldn’t let you stay with him. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re not wrong.” Caranthir perched on a bar stool and grunted. “But fuck Cáno. He has a whole spare room now that he’s fucking his roommate, but do you think he lets anyone use it? Nope! He’s ashamed of us, you know. Doesn’t want his environmentally-challenged boyfriend knowing his brothers are capitalists.”

“I’m not a capitalist,” said Celegorm.

Curufin and Caranthir both looked at him incredulously, then silently agreed not to respond.

Caranthir slapped the bar counter. “What’s on tap, brewmaster!”

“Nothing, we’ve closed up. Tyelko and I were just about to leave. I have to get home, it’s late, and—”

“Nope,” said Caranthir.

“Nope what?”

“Nope, you’re not leaving.”

“Nope!” Celegorm seconded, and jumped onto a stool beside Caranthir. “Come on, Curvy Scurvy, pull out some glasses, just one more round.”

Curufin frowned. He worked hard not to let on, but he felt as much the baby around any of his older brothers as he had since he was— well, an actual baby. He’d been seven when Amrod and Amras were born: it was too late to rewire the psychological violence inflicted growing up with four (gifted, brash, adored) older siblings. And now Celegorm and Caranthir leered at him from across the bar with those taunting smiles, and his resolve buckled under the desire to please them.

“Yeah, okay, sure,” he said, pulling out two glasses.

“Nah nah nah nah.” Celegorm wagged a finger. “You’re having one, too.”

“No, I’m not,” said Curufin. “I have to wake up early to take Tyelpë—”

“Oh boo-hoo-da-loo,” said Caranthir. “I have to be at the port at six a.m. Drink, Curvo. It’ll be no fun if you’re just sitting there watching us.”

Curufin ground his teeth. “Fine. A small glass. And then I’m kicking you out of here.”

“… and then she says: ‘Yeah okay, thanks dude. You can leave now. I know how to replace a tire.’”

“What a bitch,” Celegorm slurred.

“What?” Caranthir said. “No, man, that’s hot as fuck.” He tipped back the last of his beer then reached across the bar and refilled it directly from the tap, sloshing more of it on the floor than into his glass.

“Yo, careful!” said Curufin, then laughed. He looked into his own glass, which was disappointingly still empty. Had he had a third? He didn’t think he’d had a third. No, he’d only had two. Or it might have been three. Well, he’d just have half to be safe. He dumped half of Caranthir’s pint into his.

“Hey!” Caranthir grabbed for the glass, but Curufin had already chugged most of it down.

“Sorry, gone,” he said, then gripped the edge of the bar as he felt himself swaying backwards.

“You know what’s funny,” Celegorm said, staring at the wall. “I have no idea why Aredhel is with me.”

“Oh god, please don’t be a sad drunk,” Curufin begged. He dropped down and rested his head on the bar. “I’m so tired,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “So fucking tired…”

“No, but really, you guys. I’m such a loser. Why would she be with me? You know, I almost told her I love her the other day. I mean, I’ve told her that when we were together before, but I haven’t said it again since we got back together and what not and— damn it fuck, you guys, I do love her.”

“So tell her,” Caranthir said, then barked a laugh. “Or at least don’t tell me— I don’t give a shit.”

“You think?” Celegorm asked earnestly. Curufin groaned. “Yeah, I should tell her. Why hide?”

Curufin’s eyes squinted open just long enough to catch Celegorm picking up his phone. He flung his arm across Caranthir to smack it from his hand. It crashed to the floor.

“Hey!” Celegorm yelled.

“Don’t tell her now you dumb bag of dick rockets!” Curufin shouted, and sputtered over his lacklustre name-calling efforts.

As he stumbled to retrieve his phone, Celegorm said, “Fuck you, you broke the screen.”

“It was already broken,” Curufin lied. He snuggled against the crook of his elbow and closed his eyes. “Guys,” he muttered, “how we gon’ get home? I’m so sleepy…”

“Agh, hold up.” Caranthir bumped Curufin’s shoulder as he reached for something. “I’ll call Nelyo to come get us.”

“Good idea…” Curufin said, "Nelyo'll fix it..." and fell asleep.

#anon #celegorm #curufin #caranthir #holiday prompts #modern au #beleria au #my fic

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