#going to be honest didn’t love the little speech at the end

[colinfeatherington]

I have very mixed feelings!! I think it’s hard for me to say how I actually feel because the hype was so intense and my intial feelings are probably skewed but I’m kinda disappointed right now. would love to hear others thoughts and have my opinion swayed!

[izzyy-stuff]

𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐃 - 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍

choi soobin x afab!reader

summary: After you found out the smarty-pants in your class was in love with you you thought it would be fun to play around with him a bit, but things take a wrong turn when he is the only one you can text when you are horny and he doesn't hesitate and runs to you, making you feel better than any of your ex boyfriends could.

words count: 3.9k

warnings: smut content, she/her pronouns used twice (in the texting part) sorry 🙏, oral, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex (don't!!), cum eating, gentle sex, squiting, idk tbh

You glanced to your side, watching the black-haired boy on the other side of the classroom as he wrote down some notes. If you were to be honest, you weren’t paying any attention to what the teacher was saying, so you had no idea what he was writing down either. But it didn't matter anyway, you knew he would let you copy his notes later. 

It was one of the perks of having the class’s smarty-pants be in love with you. You chuckled when you saw him look your way too, smiling at him before you turned away again. 

“What's going on there?” The black-haired girl next to you asked, her eyebrow raised as she pointed at the male on the other side of the class. “Why do you two keep stealing glances at each other?” 

“You know Yeonjun, right?” You asked, watching as the girl next to you nodded. “Who doesn't,” your best friend scoffed. “What does he have to do with anything?” 

“Well, he is the one that told me last week our little nerdy here has a crush on me. It all makes sense now if you think about it. I couldn't wrap my head around why he would always send me the lesson notes when I asked for them but not to others. I told Ryan he could ask Soob because I thought he wouldn't have any problems with it, but it turns out he only sent them to me to get me to like him, or something,” You explained, watching as your best friend laughed quietly. 

“It's kind of cute though that he does that.” 

“But I don't want ‘cute’ anymore,” you rolled your eyes. “I want someone who can actually make me cum and not just stare at me questioning why I wouldn't finish as if he even tried.” 

“Okay, I know the last boy was a fail as fuck, literally, but who knows,” the black-haired girl shrugged. “You want to tell me you think he of all people could make me cum?” You scoffed. “Please, he probably hasn't fucked a girl in his life.” 

You said that, but God, you had no idea what was coming your way. 

“Who are we gossiping about?” You turned as you heard the male’s voice, scoffing at how needy he was for the tea. “No one,” you shook your head. “Your rival,” your best friend grinned, answering instead when you didn’t do so. The blond boy scoffed, looking at the black-haired boy. “Oh yeah, I am so sure he didn’t fuck a girl - or anyone else - in his life,” he agreed. 

“I am pretty sure I’ve been with a girl more times than he has,” Ryan next to him nodded, joining their conversation. “Kinda crazy,” you commented, laughing. Before you could say anything else, you were stopped by the teacher hitting the board with his hand, making you look his way. “As I was saying,” he started his speech again, giving you a warning look before he turned around, facing the board again so he could write down a few things. 

Your head fell on the table soon after out of boredom, and before you could even start paying attention to what the teacher was talking about, the bell rang, announcing the end of the lesson. 

“Okay, guys, who is coming with me to grab lunch?” Your best friend turned towards you and the two boys behind you. “I am passing,” you mumbled immediately, not even fully sitting up and simply turning your head towards her. “I am going,” Ryan proclaimed, already standing up from his place, the blond following him right after. 

“Okay, I see you guys later, then,” you smiled at them, waving them off as they left the classroom. You knew you should get up too and move to your next class, but you were starting to feel unwell, and the thought of getting up sounded terrible. You sighed, closing your eyes for a few seconds. You knew this classroom was empty for another hour or so anyway. 

“Hey, are you alright?” You opened your eyes again upon hearing the soft voice and feeling the tap on your shoulder, blinking a few times to make your eyes focus again. “Mhm, sure I am,” you mumbled, sitting up straight as you looked around. The class was empty by now, only the two of you were left there. “Why? Were you worried about me?” You chuckled, teasing him. Suddenly, it was as if your headache completely disappeared when you saw the nervous look on his face. “Relax, I am joking,” you shook your head, but couldn’t hide your smile. 

“I don’t want to annoy you,” you started, slowly packing your stuff as he stood beside you, waiting like a puppy. “But do you think you could give me today’s notes, Soob?” 

“You-” he gulped, trying to ignore the nickname. There was simply something about you calling him Soob. “I don’t want it for free though. You could consider it as me owing you one and helping you when you’d need it?” You suggested as you stood up, grabbing your now packed bag. “Uhm, sure,” he nodded, not even paying full attention to what you were saying. 

“I’ll text you tonight about the notes then,” you beamed happily, looking like a completely different person as you placed your hand on his arm as a sign of thank you. You were devastated minutes ago, but whoever would see you now wouldn’t believe him if he told them so. Soobin wasn’t sure why, but he was glad you looked fine again. 

Soobin threw his bag on the side of his room, jumping into his bed immediately after the long day. He laid down on his back, simply staring at the ceiling of his room. He reached into his pocket for his phone, seeing two unread messages from his best friend. He opened his phone, staring at the two texts. “Look at Instagram” “Thank me later” There wasn’t much for him to question. Even though to many it might seem confusing, he knew exactly whose Instagram he should check. There was only one person that the two of them talked about together after all. 

The black-haired male clicked on the icon, waiting for the story to load for a second. Then his eyes widened at the sight. It was a picture of you, but not just any picture. He sat up immediately, looking properly at your body. You were wearing a white top, cropped slightly above your waist. He couldn’t help but notice you weren't wearing a bra underneath, your nipples showing through the fabric. Then he saw the black miniskirt, that you definitely pulled higher than you should. He gulped, remembering how you touched his arm earlier today, your fingers brushing on his skin as your hair fell in front of your face. 

He whined silently as he felt his boxers becoming tighter the more he stared at the picture, your body curves exposed for anyone to see. He shared the story with Yeonjun, his best friend, and immediately texted him how good you looked. 

Only, did he not know it wasn’t Yeonjun he shared the story to.  

Soobin stared at the messages, screaming as he turned his phone off faster than ever before. He couldn’t believe it. He just told you he needed you. There wasn’t anything worse that could be happening at the moment. Not to mention the image of your body was still stuck in his head, making him hard. 

He stared at the messages again, his heart fighting with his brain at that moment. He didn’t want to make you do anything, he felt like it would be too forced, even though you were the one suggesting it. But a part of him knew this was his only chance. There was no way he could get you differently. He knew about your dating history, so he also knew you had never been with anyone like him. It was always the boys like Yeonjun, who just understood how to talk to girls properly, how to make them fall for them. But he wasn’t like that, he had no idea what he was doing. 

And just like that, he was in front of your place, rethinking his decisions as he knocked on the front door, trying his best to ignore the boner in his pants that still hadn’t gone down. How could it be when you shared a picture like that with him?

“You came,” you mumbled as you opened the door, looking up at him. Soobin looked down on you, noticing the same top you had in the Instagram picture. He gulped, his eyes then falling on the bottom part of your body and the white panties that were the only thing you were wearing. “How could I not?” He whispered, making sure this picture would stay in his mind. 

You grabbed his hand as you took him inside, closing the door behind you immediately. It was only now that you noticed how big his hands were against yours. You just hoped he could use them too. 

Soobin blindly followed you to your bedroom, his mind full of thoughts about how he should go about this, while his eyes were stuck on your ass, unable to look away as you walked in front of him. 

“Can I-” he started as his eyes followed you while you sat on your bed. “You can do absolutely anything, Soob,” you interrupted him, watching as his face turned red. “Soob? Soobie?” You smirked, noticing what the nicknames did to him. “Is that what turns you on?” 

“Everything about you turns me on,” he admitted, slowly getting closer to you while you moved back, not taking your eyes off him. You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t. You simply bit your bottom lip as you found him above yourself, holding eye contact. This was becoming more intimate than you thought it would. 

“Is it okay for me to kiss you?” He wanted to assure himself one more time. You thought about it for a second, not wanting to give him any hope, but also desperately needing his lips on yours. You nodded to him in the end, grabbing the collar of his shirt and bringing him closer to yourself, pressing your lips on his, your mouth slightly opened which only made it easier for him. 

His right hand found its way to your boob, carefully sliding under your top, his cold fingers brushing over your nipple. You groaned into the kiss, clenching around nothing but thin air. It felt pathetic. He had barely touched you and you were already getting wet. 

Soobin left your mouth for a second, getting a disagreeing whine immediately that made him smile as he started placing wet kisses all over your neck, slowly moving down to your collarbone and then between your boobs. Your lips parted as you breathed out from the pleasure, raising your head to look at him. “Mhm, take it off,” you whispered, your hand reaching for his sleeve. He didn’t hesitate for a second and listened to you, taking his shirt off while you took down your own, exposing your breast to him completely. 

“Fuck,” he groaned at the sight, feeling more and more uncomfortable in his sweatpants. He ran his fingers through his hair, looking at your body one more time before his lips found their way to your breast again, his hand cupping one of them as he pressed kisses on your other boob, his tongue making wet circles around your nipple. 

“Fuck,” it was you groaning this time, quiet moans escaping your lips as your nipples became hard at his touch. “Soob, please,” you whined, throwing your head back into the pillow. “Please, what? Hm?” He asked, not even looking up and just continuing what he had been doing until now, his lips moving down again, leaving wet traces on your stomach now as his hands found their way to your waist. “I don’t know. Just- fuck,” you moaned out again when you felt his lips on your clit through your panties. 

“Just?” He asked again, looking up at you. You could swear you had never seen anything better in your life. The male was in between your legs, his breath landing right on your clit as he looked at you, absolute need in his eyes. 

“Just fuck me already,” you begged, watching as he took down your panties, his eyes fixated on your already leaking pussy. “I don’t think so,” he informed you, moving up again so he would face you. “I doubt you could take it just like that,” he whispered, moving his fingers to your lips. You didn’t need to hear anything else and immediately opened your mouth, sucking on his fingers. 

Before you could even register his actions you felt him slowly inserting his two fingers into you, carefully watching you. He did so to make sure he was doing everything right. You weren't completely wrong when you said he probably hasn’t been with a girl in his life. He couldn’t say he would have much experience, but all of his friends were sex addicts - and now he could finally see why - and they couldn’t keep their mouths shut every time the topic came up, so it was only natural for Soobin to catch on to a few things. 

You gasped, your eyes rolling back. You knew there was an obvious difference in your hand sizes but god, his fingers were bigger than you thought. “Fuck, curl them now,” you commanded, not daring to look down. He did as you said, feeling his precum on his boxers. He wanted nothing more but to fuck you right then and there, but he knew he had to wait. 

It didn’t take much longer for you to squirt on his fingers, especially after he added pressure to your clit too, his thumb making slow circles around while his fingers were stretching your inside. 

“Can I eat you out, please?” He asked, looking up at you again, his thumb still rubbing your clit slowly. “Please, y/n,” he begged, making you go crazy. You weren't sure if it was the way he begged you, the way he said your name, or because of his breath on your skin, but you couldn’t say no to him even if you wanted to. “God, please do,” you whined out and just like that, his tongue was pressed on your pussy right away, not wasting any second of the time he had with you. 

It had been months since you had cummed thanks to a boy, so you didn’t have any expectations for him when you invited him over. But you were wrong when you thought no boys knew how to take care of their girls anymore because he did exactly what he should, making you cum on his tongue a few minutes after he went down on you, not leaving your trembling cunt even then, letting you ride out your orgasm as his nose was pressed on your clit, his tongue carefully licking every last bit of your cum. 

“Soob,” you groaned, pulling his hair, making him finally raise his head and look at you. “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he mumbled, going up again to kiss you. “And delicious,” he informed you, pressing his lips on yours. “Fuck, Soob, you’re too good,” you mumbled before you kissed him again, slowly sitting up. “Come closer,” you said, grabbing the hem of his pants, and pulling him closer at the same time. 

He groaned, his eyes shut tight, his lips unable to stay away from yours. You smirked into the kiss, your hand grabbing his trembling cock over his pants, making him moan. “I don’t usually do this but…” you started, breaking your kiss so you could look at his body properly. “You were so good earlier,” you praised him, not breaking your eye contact as you changed your position so you would be kneeling. “Pants off, baby,” 

That alone was enough to make him go crazy. You calling him baby just did something with his head. And with his dick. 

“Fuck,” You breathed out when you finally pulled down Soobin’s pants and boxers, your pussy clenching around nothing again. You knew he would be bigger because of his height, but this was more than you had expected. 

He cupped your cheeks, making you look up at him. “Are you sure?” You chuckled, simply nodding. “I can take good care of you too, you know,” you proclaimed, looking up at him as your right hand wrapped around his cock, not breaking your eye contact. You knew it must have been making him go insane. 

You started slowly, simply kissing his tip and licking off his precum. Then, you decided to try to take his full length into your mouth, but stopped shortly after getting to his half, already feeling like you were going to gag any second. There was no way you could do this. 

However, Soobin saw it differently. To him, it looked like you were playing with him, moving slowly and carefully on purpose to tease him. His hand found its way to your head, carefully tugging the hair that was getting in front of your face behind your ears before he held your chin up, making you look at him, his dick still in your mouth. “Think you can go faster, pretty? Please,” He asked, hoping maybe begging would help him. 

He groaned when he felt you suck harder, trying to go faster too but failing miserably. He chuckled at the sight, his hand in your hair so he could control the speed himself. “If you want to stop, just punch me, or something, okay? Try not to bite my dick off if you can’t take it anymore, though,” he told you, and before you could even look up at him again and question what he was talking about, he was moving with your head on his own as if you were just a toy to fulfill his needs. If you were honest, you were glad he did so. It was turning you on more. 

“Fuck, just a bit more,” he moaned out, thrusting his hips into your mouth as you sucked on him. He didn’t dare to look at you just yet, he felt like he would stop if he saw you in the moment, scared he might have been hurting you by determining his speed. 

When Soobin finally looked at you there were tears in your eyes, and his cum was all over your mouth. He cupped your cheeks, wiping the tears from your eyes with his thumbs. “Sorry,” he mumbled. You looked up at him, high on all the pleasure you felt until now thanks to him. God, you knew you needed to do this more often from now on. You licked the corner of your mouth, making sure not a single drop was wasted. 

“You’re not done yet, are you?” You asked, your puppy eyes almost making him cum again right away. “Fuck, no I am not,” he answered, leaning down to you to kiss you again. 

Soon after, Soobin found himself sitting on the edge of your bed, his back pressed against the white walls while you sat on him, your head on his shoulder, biting into his skin so you wouldn’t get too loud as he fucked you. Holding your ass, he was helping you remain at the same speed, moaning along with you. “So close, Soob,” you cried out. “Hold in a bit more,” he whispered, closing his eyes as he felt himself getting closer to finishing again, too. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out, a mixture of your own and Soobin’s cum leaking from your pussy. You raised your head slowly, your cheeks completely red as you looked into his eyes, still sitting on his cock. “Soob, this was the best sex I’ve ever had. God, you were so good.” He bit onto his bottom lip, watching your fucked out face. “Oh, yeah?” He asked, even more embarrassed than you were. “Does that mean you’ll let me fuck you again next time?” 

“Soob…” you mumbled, just watching him for a second before you carefully got off him. He just shook his head before you could say anything else. “I know, I know, don’t worry,” he muttered. “I still needed to try it,” he smiled awkwardly, his dimples being the cutest thing you had ever seen. “Let me help you clean yourself up before I leave. It's the least I can do,” He suggested. You nodded to him, convinced this was the last time you were together like this. You couldn't be more wrong though. 

You knew you couldn’t stay away from him for too long when he helped you to get into your bathroom and his fingers found their way to your clit again, making you melt at his touch. Even worse was when he carried you to your bed after he switched your bedsheet for you, asking you to let him eat you out one more time before he would leave you alone for good. 

You just couldn’t let him get away. 

“Fuck, Soob,” you mumbled, sitting on the edge of your bed, watching him kneeling in front of you, begging to feel your cum on his tongue again. “You’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?” His innocent eyes looked up at you, his hands rubbing your thighs. You sighed, “Just stay here.” 

You could swear you saw sparks in his eyes as the words left your mouth. “Really? Can I?” 

You nodded, agreeing. “Sleep here tonight, I’ll let you eat me out again next time.” 

Soobin smiled proudly, his hands squeezing your thighs. “Only next time?” 

“God, just come here,” you proclaimed, pulling him up from the floor into a warm kiss, feeling his hands roaming on your body again. The night was still nowhere to be done.

[verstappenf1lecccc]

Regrets

7140 Characters 1343 Words 🦋

All Lando did was regret everything, he regretted the moment he snapped at the only girl he actually started to love. He didn’t even remember the words he threw at her; he knew he stepped way out of the line. Their relationship was blurry; they were not together, not in the slightest.

She was free to date whoever she wanted, and yet Lando’s blood boiled looking at her interact with anyone else but him, especially when she talked to Oscar. Everyone always mentioned how well they complimented each other; he seemed like he would be perfect for her.

So when Lando saw her hug and congratulate Oscar with such joy and passion, all he saw was red. It felt like salt was being rubbed onto his raw wounds.

Only he could get hugs from her; only he could make her smile to the point where her little dimples showed; only he could be that close to her. He was jealous, and in his jealousy, he ruined his only chance of being with her.

Do you know what it feels like to be completely disrespected and have your words being thrown at you in the worst possible way? Not a feeling anyone would want to feel, but unfortunately, fate hadn’t spared her of that feeling.

She hated herself for opening up to Lando; why did she think he would be any different? Everyone she ever loved always ended up hurting her and inflicting more pain and anguish. She didn’t know what she did wrong; she knew she didn’t deserve that. It wasn’t her fault that Lando was driving like crap.

His words ripped open both old and new wounds, but how long was she going to let people do that to her? Her parents, her sister, her family, and now Lando? When will she ever be free of this type of betrayal? She didn’t want to believe that it was Lando who said those nasty words to her; his words were almost as bad, if not worse, than the words the media used to call her.

Her swollen red eyes and the dark red scratches all over her arms were proof that it was Lando’s words that caused her such anguish.

She knew she had to change; she wanted to hide and cry her eyes out, but she knew this was a sign to change and become a stronger version of herself who lives for her own dreams and not for anyone else. The love she was searching for was never really found, so she decided to love herself.

It had only been a couple of days since Lando let himself lash out on her, too many days if you’d ask him. He knew he needed to pull something massive just to get her back. He wanted to tell her how he felt and why he did what he did, but each time he rehearsed that speech, he sounded more and more like a jerk.

Lando needed help, and he knew only one person could help him, much to his dismay it was Oscar, the other Aussie.

Lando still remembers the way she told Oscar how adorable his accent was; yeah that ticked Lando off. It was almost like she tried to tempt Lando into lashing out on her. It was at this moment that Lando realized that he was Lando Norris. (A terrible realization) he didn’t need her; he had a hundred girls willingly throwing themselves at him.

Who cared about a girl who was flirting with her teammate to get back at him? Lando didn’t understand how stupid he sounded in that very moment, and so it goes the pictures get out of Lando sucking faces with a pretty blonde.

Those images were the wake-up call y/n busmante needed. She left the paddock in a haste, finding it more than necessary, especially when she saw the ugly snarl Lando sent her when she bumped into him. It was almost as if he didn’t realize how bad his words hurt her. Lando’s eyes snapped down to the sheer cover-up she wore; he would see the red marks.

To be honest, he didn’t care. She wasn’t his problem; she won’t be messing with his head again. It was her fault that he lost; the pretty blonde who had her arm around his bicep made him feel powerful.

Lando felt like a weak little boy, looking at his favorite toy being thrown out or donated, but having a new toy in hand, he didn’t realize the significance his old toy had. The excitement of gaining something new overcame any stinging pain that the loss of something so valuable and important made him feel.

Y/n decided that she was done with men in orange; it was one of fate’s twisted games. She left the paddock in such a hurry that she didn’t realize she bumped into Oscar.

Her raced breathing and red eyes made it obvious to even the blindest man, but it made it clear for Oscar, someone who had kept his eye on the younger busmante sibling since the day she walked into the paddock. Oscar saw the way she looked at his teammate; there were often times he wanted her to turn his way and look at him the same way; he’d give her the world if she wanted it.

Oscar saw the faint red lines on her arm. In a hasty decision, he dragged her to his driver's room. He was always known as a gentleman, always asking for permission before letting his hands wander. But the way Oscar pulled y/n in was urgent; he knew something was wrong and was secretly hoping that Lando had done something to her so that he would have an excuse to beat the crap out of him for it. Most importantly, though, Oscar wanted to know if his girl was okay? She looked up at him, eyes glossy and looked like they hurt based on how red and irritated they looked. She looked so sad and quiet, the Aussie didn’t know what to do or say to make her pain go away.

All it took was one tight hug; the moment Oscar's buff arms made contact with her, she lost control. Her eyes bled more tears, each one a stab at Oscar's heart. He wanted to rip Lando apart limb by limb for doing this to her. Oscar had heard everything.

The day Lando ended up DNF-ing, Oscar went to his room to talk to him. What he heard made him never want to look at his teammate again. He sat there holding her for an hour, both seeking comfort. Oscar slowly raised the sleeves of her cardigan to look at the damage she had inflicted upon herself. A slight whine came out of the girl, a weak protest, but she didn't really care. She felt mentally drained and didn't know why Oscar was bothering so much, but it did feel good that someone cared.

When his rough fingers made contact with her irritated skin, the moment felt intimate. He ran his fingers through her hair, coaxing her to spill all her deepest thoughts and darkest secrets. She complied, incoherently mumbling everything Lando had said to her and how he had acted. All while being hugged close to Oscar's midriff, his scent intoxicating her, making her feel calm.

It was funny, really, when you looked at it from an outsider's perspective. Two young adults sitting on the floor, one holding the other, while the older one stared intently at the wounded younger one.

The moment looked like a scene in Shakespeare's plays, where instead of Romeo and Juliet, it was Benedict and Beatrice, the calmer, more stable ones.

Oscar knew she was hurting; he saw the pain in her face each time she mentioned him. "Will you go back to how it was if he comes up to you and apologizes?"

That simple question made her blood run cold.

She knew the answer, but she didn't want to admit it to anyone, most importantly herself.

tag list -: @dessxoxsworld @laneyspaulding19 @hc-dutch @slytherinholland @landoslutmeout @socially-awkward-eliza @ilovechickenwings @fanficweasley @ushygushybaby @bbl32 @the-untamed-soul

thank you to everyone who asked to be tagged and to everyone who sent suggestions obviously there will be a part 3 but it will be out :) as always let me know how this was :)

[bugboioli23]

Swerve x Human!Reader

Disclaimer: I haven't written fic for a few years so my skills are gonna be a bit shit to be honest, any criticism is welcome and id love to hear what you guys think 💚

THIS IS 18+ - size difference, valveplug, oral sex, fingerfucking, doggy style, riding - 2911 words - AFAB reader but no pronouns are used

You and Swerve had been friends since you stepped foot on the Lost Light. Something about his chatterbox personality and sitcom-like humor had you beaming whenever you were around him. The best nights were spent perched on the edge of the bar counter, rambling for hours on end with Swerve. Tonight was one of those nights. It was after the doors had closed, the bar empty and silent aside from the laughter ricocheting from the both of you. 

“Really?!” You yelped, eyes wide in surprise as you stared at the grinning minibot.

“I'm telling you! You wouldn't believe the amount of mechs who come by here asking for you!” Swerve replied with a chuckle, shaking his helm in shared disbelief. “Not only that but they actually think they could frag you! I'm probably one of the few bots on here who could frag you full sized.” Swerve paused, face freezing for a second as he quickly backtracked on his statement. “I mean- not that we would- NOT THAT I WOULDN'T WANT TO- I'm sure you’d make a lovely frag- NOT LIKE THAT- I JUST MEANT- im sorry- ” Swerve seemed to shrink in on himself as he continued to mumble to himself anxiously.

Your face burned red at the idea. The thought of a bot being stuffed between your folds, trembling at the foreign sensation of the wet flesh of your cunt. You wondered about the anatomy that laid hidden under the panels of your metallic friends. How similar are you compared to them? Just how compatible are your species? You already had gotten an enlightening talk from Brainstorm about Cybertronian anatomy after you explained human anatomy to him. (For his holoforms of course. No other reason.) You knew what you could take, but the fresh reality that this could happen left blood rushing south. 

“Uhm…  ____? You good? I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or anything. I should’ve kept my mouth shut, I’m sorry.” Swerve looked at you apologetically. His light pout and the puppy eyes you could barely see behind his visor brought forth images that made warmth surge through your body once more. How would Swerve act if you asked him to fuck you? He seemed like the type of Cybertronian who wouldn’t mind a little experimenting with humans. He seemed like the type to whimper; the type to beg. 

Heat flushed through your face as reality caught back up to you. You flashed him a bright smile and waved your hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m alright. Just thinking.” You glanced at Swerve, who looked unconvinced. “Hey, weren’t you and Blurr going to open a bar before you came here?” You asked out of nowhere, hoping to turn his attention onto something else. It seemed to work because he was already telling you about how Blurr was secretly his best friend. While the bartender was distracted, you let your thoughts turn back to the ideas at hand. You found Swerve to be adorable, the way he seemed to always work with a smile despite people talking poorly about him. His fascination with your species’ tv and music and how he would light up when you offered another film for movie nights. After tonight’s conversation, you decided it’s now or never to shoot your shot with him.

“Swerve?” You looked him up and down with a smile, interjecting his speech on Blurr’s latest record break. “Do you think fragging a human would be possible?” You spoke sweetly, letting your voice fall an octave to emphasize your intentions. 

“Uhm, wouldn't Ratchet be better at answering that than I would?” Swerve thought he was hearing things. In his mind there was no possible way that you just asked what you had asked. His head must've made that up. It had to be some kind of self inflicted auditory hallucination. The way you smiled softly and rested a hand on his arm before leaning closer must also be a trick of the optics.

“Swerve, darling. I asked you for a reason.” You replied coyly, glancing up at him with an endearing grin. He felt his intake hitch and a sliver of charge run down his frame. 

“Oh.” He choked out, face tinted with the rush of energon. His cooling fans kicked on with just the mere suggestion of what tonight could entail. “I- I suppose we could- figure it out…” He grinned shyly.

“That’s a good mech.” You purred, wide grin never faltering as you hopped down from the counter. You sauntered out of the bar with a new sense of confidence, only pausing to gesture to him to follow before the doors closed behind you. Swerve had to take a minute to collect his thoughts before practically sprinting after you.

Your habsuite was uniquely modified for your species. Instead of a hard metal berth, you had a cushy soft bed adorned with a mass of plushies, pillows and blankets. Soft lighting glowed from lower points in the room instead of one harsh light from above. It had your special charm to it, and Swerve wanted to spend every moment he could in there with you. 

“So,” You started plopping yourself down on the edge of your bed, patting the spot next to you, “I’m going to skip all the pleasantries here, I want you to fuck me.”

Swerve let out a whine, feeling a surge of arousal flooding through his systems. His spike pressurized quickly, becoming heavy behind his panels with an embarrassingly loud thud. “Did you have to be so bold about it?” He hissed through clenched dentae as you gazed at him with desire. 

“I think it’s more fun to watch your reactions.” You hummed contentedly before climbing into his lap, “Can I kiss you? Would that be okay?” You spoke softly, but your eyes never left his face. Swerve nodded hastily, servos hovering above your body anxiously. His intake opened to start a flood of questions but you cut him off with a kiss, exploring the foreign texture of his pliable metallic face. The strange rubbery feeling of his glossa felt wonderfly new against the soft muscle of your tongue. You let out a soft noise of pleasure against his mouth before you were interrupted by a snap of panels retracting and an enticing pressure laying heavy on your thigh. 

“Oh- Slag, sorry I- you’re so- I wasn’t able to-,” Swerve began, but you pressed a finger to his lips as you looked down to study the new part of him. It was about 8 inches long, the red tip of it already leaking prefluids. It was mostly white, with a stripe of red along the underside decorated with biolights which pulsed needily. You trailed your hand lightly along the length, your fingers barely unable to touch around the girth of it. You looked back up at Swerve who was hiding behind his servos, face tinted pink with energon. 

“Listen… I know I’m not as big as other bots but please… don’t stop whatever you were planning to do.” Swerve mumbled shyly, peeking at you between his digits.

“Oh, hun. You don’t have to worry about anything. You’ve got more than enough for me to enjoy.” You smiled, sliding off his lap to kneel between his legs. “May I?” You asked, wanting to explore his anatomy further. 

He let out a shaky exvent with a nod and you ran your fingers along the grooves and panels of the Cybertronian anatomy. It wasn’t until you had gotten eye level with his spike that you had noticed his valve. It was dripping with transfluid and the hooded node was glowing a beautiful blue. You looked up at him from your position, eyes full of lust. 

“Change of plans. Lean back for me, I’ve gotta taste you.” You purred, firmly pushing against his midsection lightly as he rested his back against the wall of pillows. You gently pushed his thighs open and trailed two fingers against the slick folds of his valve, coating your fingers in the sticky substance. You studied your digits before popping them into your mouth. The pink fluid was metallic and sour, but addicting in a strange way. You wanted more. Spreading his folds with one hand, you delved into his valve. Swerve watched, entranced by the way you slid the flat of your tongue against him. The sensation made him let out soft groans, which encouraged you more. You took your other hand and gently circled his anterior node, ghosting the edges of it teasingly. Your tongue dove into his entrance and you felt the inner calipers twitch and throb with need. 

“Oh frag… you’re good a-at this. I’m- hnghh… I don’t have enough stamina for t-this!” Swerve whined as you moved the hand separating his folds and you backed away from his plush valve.

“Don’t worry, you are doing so good. Just lie back and let me take care of you, okay?” You cooed and went back to lapping at the transfluid that fell from his folds. One hand finally gave his anterior node pressure while your other hand went up to stroke at his spike lazily. The result of your combined actions had Swerve clawing at the sheets, his intake falling open as he gasped and mewled out so many words you couldn’t tell what he was saying until it was too late. 

Warm fluid gushed over your face as he overloaded while you were still tongue deep in his valve. His spike throbbed in your hand as you felt more transfluid land in your hair and shoulder. 

“FRAG- Ah- hah…!” Swerve whined as his frame trembled through the aftershocks. “Oh slag im so sorry!” His visor came back online just in time to witness your mouth and jaw covered in dripping pink fluids.

You licked your lips and wiped your face with your shirt before taking it off and tossing it aside. “Hey.. hey no worries. It’s okay. You’re okay.” You kissed his cheek, patting his thigh softly. “You did amazing. I’m so glad I could make you feel good.” 

Swerve let out another high whine, seeing your chest bare before him. He slowly raised his servos to graze the flesh around your nipples. You sighed softly and raised your hands to press his servos more firmly to your skin. Swerve was still panting from his previous overload but he leaned in to press his lips gently against your sternum. His servos wandered up to press and massage at your nipples, circling them like you did to his node earlier. Your back arched, pushing your chest further into his servos as your mouth fell open softly. Swerve looked up at you, visor glowing with excitement and awe. “You’re stunning. I mean- frag, look at you, coated with my overload. Mine…” He breathed out, eyes trailing down your body to rest at your pants. He seemed to swallow before shakily continuing. “D-Do you still want me t-to..you know.. t-”

“I still want you to fuck me, Swerve.” You finished for him, moving your hands to swiftly undo the buttons of your pants, pulling off your undergarments at the same time and tossing them behind you. You grabbed onto his wrist and guided his fingers up towards your wet folds. Swerve got the hint and gently worked one finger into the tight heat of your cunt. He could feel the gentle pulse and pull of your walls around his digit, and he could barely imagine what it would feel like around his spike. After he felt you loosen up a bit, he slid in a second digit. You let out a gasp and a soft groan at the stretch, knowing that this was just the beginning if you wanted to be prepared to take his spike. 

Swerve gently curled and flexed his digits, exploring your sex thoroughly as his processor worked overtime to memorize which movements felt the best for you. His audials turned to max sensitivity to be sure he could hear every whine and murmur of praise that fell from your lips. He could feel the second rush of energon repressurising his spike the more he pumped his digits into you. You glanced down between the both of you to smirk at his array before leaning in and pressing another kiss to his jaw.

“Awh, look at you,” You cooed, lifting your hips up to grind the tip of his spike against your clit. Swerve let out a strained whine as his hips bucked up involuntarily. Your smirk only grew. “You’re such a pretty mech for me.”

“Hnf s-stop…” Swerve whispered bashfully, turning his helm away as energon rushed to his faceplates once more.

“I mean it.” You continued, slowly easing yourself down on his spike as you guided his gaze to meet yours. Swerve’s intake fell open and his spinal struts arched as your body enveloped his length. His servos flew to your hips when he finally bottomed out inside you. The heat of your cunt pressed upon every sensor and node on his spike with such certainty that he could barely concentrate on your words. 

“Hhoh fraggghh, how are you s-so- so-ooHHFRAG-” Swerve had started to speak but you decided that now was the time to lift your hips and slam yourself back down. You started to ride the mech like an animal, your hips popping up halfway only to quickly push him back inside. Swerve let out a chorus of moans and yelps as his servos twitched against the soft plush of your thighs, squeezing every now and then to ground himself. It wasn’t until your legs started to burn that you were reminded of something. You quickly stopped your movements and grinned down at Swerve as he abruptly gasped and looked at you with a beautiful expression of desperation. 

“Wh-why- why’dya stop?” Swerve asked, his speech slurred from the sudden absence of pleasure.

“Sorry, but I just remembered that you’re the one who’s supposed to be fucking me.” You pulled yourself off of his spike and he let out a pathetic mewl at the loss of your body. His pout was quickly wiped from his face when he witnessed you getting down on all fours and slyly shaking your hips at him. You turned to smirk over your shoulder at him as he gawked at you. Not another second had passed before Swerve was on top of you, his spike easily finding its way back into your slick folds. He started pounding into you, the weight of his body pressing down nicely on your back as he mounted you.

“Mnh, there you go, good boy Swerve.” You moaned out as his spike pistoned in and out of you, shoving your body into the mattress. Swerve was brought to a mindless ramble as your pussy sucked him in deeper and tightened around him.

“Ahfraggingprimusyouretight-“ Swerve whimpered as you clenched around him harder. Your body trembled as you felt his spike throb inside you. Swerve hovered over you, intertwining his servos over your fingers as he thrust into you rapidly. “F-Frag, ____ I’m not gonna l-last much longer-“

“Good, keep going. I want you to fill me with your transfluid. Overload in me like the good mech you are.” You grinned against the mattress, turning to look at him smugly, reaching down between your legs to rub at your clit. Swerve leaned down to mewl and whine against the back of your neck as he chased his own pleasure, pushing your hips further up with every pump of his hips. 

“Fuck, Swerve- I’m-!“ You felt your eyes roll back at the drag of his thickness against your walls and you let out a filthy moan as you hit your climax. You felt the slick of your cum coat his panels as your sex tightened  around him. The whimper that left his vocalizer was angelic as he let his spike empty itself within you. Thick ropes of transfluid coated your insides, the warm sensation of sheer fullness bringing you back down from your high. Your body continued to pulse around his spike, milking him of the last of his overload as he gave a few final lazy thrusts. 

The two of you lay there panting for a while before he slowly pulled out of you, watching in awe as his cum started to slide down your thighs. You slowly turned and sat up, feeling your combined fluids seeping out of you and onto the sheets. 

“Ah… that was… let me get you a towel.” Swerve gasped, stepping to the closet to grab a towel to wipe you down with, wetting it with warm water before gently cleaning you. He lifted and placed you on the other side of the bed, putting the used towel over the wet spot after cleaning and closing his panels. 

You stared at the red and white mech with unveiled adoration as he finally sat next to you again. You leaned in and peppered his face with kisses as he gently rubbed your thigh. 

“Swerve, you do know how to keep your mouth shut about some things, right?” You murmured sleepily, hoping the bartender could keep his mouth shut for at least a week or two before word got out that the human is a mechfucker.

“Uhuh, yeah. Definitely.” Swerve nodded with determination. You sighed with a small smile, already accepting that your next appearance in the bar would not be the same after this.

[egcdeath]

going the extra mile

pairing: patrick zweig x reader

summary: patrick takes care of you after a rough day at work. 

word count: 2k

warnings: domesticity, established relationship tooth rotting fluff, so much fluff you might have to visit your dentist, brief mention of alcohol, eating, baths, mentions of sex but no explicit scenes, so sappy, very lightly edited

author’s note: this fic is part of my succession au (previous part here) but you don’t need to read it to read this! all you need to know is that patrick and reader are engaged. 

“Honey, I’m home!” you called out as you stepped through the door of your shared apartment, voice a little flat from an exhausting day. 

What began as a joke after you first moved in with Patrick quickly began a critical part of your evening routine, where whoever got home from work later called the cheesy phrase out to the other person, then was excitedly greeted at the door. It was a cute routine and something for you to look forward to after a long day at work—much like the one you just experienced.

Just as you predicted, Patrick appeared at your door shortly after you announced your arrival, beating your equally excited cat by just a few seconds.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted you warmly before entering your space to give you a quick forehead kiss. “How was your day?”

“Stressful,” you huffed, allowing Patrick to take your work bag and hang it up for you. You squatted down to pet your cat, who was now enthusiastically rubbing her chin on your shin.

“I figured it would be. I know big presentations aren’t your favorite,” he acknowledged, ruffling your hair from where you were petting your cat. “So I picked up a bunch of food from that Italian place you like. Want to change into something comfortable then eat?”

“Oh Patrick,” you sighed in relief, looking up at him with love in your eyes. A huge feast was exactly what you needed after such a rough day. “You might be the best fiancé ever.”

As promised, when you returned to the kitchen after putting on a satin pajama set—one that Patrick randomly gifted you early on in your relationship—a variety of takeout boxes sat on the counter from one of your favorite restaurants. You didn’t even think that they did take out, but Patrick must’ve convinced them somehow. Knowing that he would go out of his way to do something like that for you made you want to grab and kiss him. 

You grabbed what you wanted then sat down on your couch, not even bothering to care about marinara stains that might end up on the very expensive piece of furniture. At that point, your comfort mattered more than any material items—a sentiment that you were sure that Patrick would agree with. 

Your fiancé joined you not too long after you sat down, bringing you an offer of focaccia and a glass of wine. 

“You know me so well,” you practically purred, a soft smile on your lips as you gladly took the glass of wine from him. 

Patrick smiled back at you in response, not outwardly acknowledging your praise, but the light dusting of pink on his cheeks letting you know that he appreciated it anyway. You always loved seeing the effects your compliments had on him, even if he didn’t immediately speak his mind. 

“Do you want to watch a movie? Want a foot massage?” he offered, remote to the television already in one hand. It was sweet how he seemed to be going down a checklist of all of the things he knew you liked after a long, stressful day. 

“I think I just want to enjoy your company for now. Maybe an early debrief? Tell me about your day?” you suggested, setting down your glass of wine to take a bite of the food on your plate. 

“My day was pretty boring, to be honest,” he sighed. “We did some run-throughs of Glenn’s speech, then went back to the office and got some boring work done that you don’t want to hear about.”

“Maybe I do wanna hear about it,” you challenged, sitting up slightly straighter to indicate your interest. “Or maybe I just want to hear you talk a little more?” you added, figuring that it would be better to be honest. 

Information about the campaign Patrick was working on would probably go in one ear and out the other, but his voice was always a comforting, grounding thing for you. After having such a busy, stressful day, you couldn’t think of a single better way to unwind than to hear Patrick talk endlessly to you. 

Being the supportive fiancé that he was, Patrick did exactly that, telling you about all of the ins and outs of his day until you finished eating and drinking and were halfway into a food coma. 

Sensing your sleepiness, Patrick paused in his storytelling. “I was gonna run a bath for you, but I wanted to wait so it didn’t get too cold while we ate. What do you think?”

“I think I want to marry you right now,” you gushed, thrilled at the prospect of a warm bath to help you fully unwind from the day. 

As promised, Patrick set up a bath for you, complete with a candle-lit room and the soothing aroma of a bath bomb. You sat in a fuzzy robe and watched from your bedroom as Patrick set up the bath for you, flattered by his commitment to giving you a relaxing evening. 

After he was satisfied with the bath he put together for you, Patrick retrieved you from your bedroom and led you to the tub, as if you didn’t already know where it was. 

“Just yell for me if you need anything,” Patrick told you, letting go of the hand that he was holding.

“What if I need something now?” you questioned as you shed your robe and stepped into the warm, soothing water of the bath.

“What do you need?” he asked curiously, already preparing to get whatever it was that you wanted. 

“Well, I don’t need it, but it would be nice if you joined me. If you want to,” you added shyly, still worried about accommodating your partner years into your relationship. Patrick wasn’t always in the mood to do super romantic things, but after giving you such a nice night, it seemed far more likely that he would accept your offer. 

Your request was received even better than you expected, with Patrick making quick work of stripping and getting into the tub behind you, before letting you recline against his chest comfortably. 

The two of you sat in the tub for a long time, occasionally talking about whatever came to mind, but mostly unwinding in silence and sharing the intimacy of having skin-on-skin contact. 

Once again, you were sure that you could fall asleep right then and there, relaxed by a tiring trifecta of your dinner, the warm bath, and your fiancé’s comforting presence. 

“I never wanna get out,” you sighed contently, turning your head to dreamily look at your partner. 

“I don’t either, but I’m starting to worry that if I stay any longer, my skin’s gonna start falling off,” he showed you his pruning fingers to prove his point. 

“Ew,” you said simply, that being all you needed to hear to get you out. Besides, the water had gone cold a long time ago, and you were itching to lay in bed. 

“I want to get out, but I don’t think any of my muscles work anymore,” you explained as you watched Patrick wrap a towel around his waist after stepping out of the tub. 

“Is this your way of asking me to carry you to bed?” he asked with a hint of laughter in his voice. 

“Depends. Are you offering?” you fluttered your eyelashes at Patrick as if that would somehow sweeten the deal. 

Patrick gave you a wordless grin, one that told you that you were about to get exactly what you wanted. He helped you out of the tub and carried you to bed as he promised, before setting you down and tossing some pajamas at you.

After he cleaned up the bathroom, Patrick joined you in bed, where you were chewing on your bottom lip as you answered a few work emails. 

“Put that away,” Patrick gently chided you, shutting your laptop for you. “They can have you tomorrow. Let me have you for now?” 

You couldn’t argue with that logic, not protesting when Patrick took your computer and set it on the nightstand on his side of the bed. Though you really would like to get more work done, your partner was accurate in his assessment that nothing would change if you answered that night rather than in the morning, other than your peace of mind. 

Once your laptop was out of the way, Patrick wasted no time pulling you in for a passionate kiss, which felt like the perfect way for you to end your night. As his hands eagerly roamed your body, you thought about how this was something that you both earned, with Patrick treating you to such a lovely evening, and you needing this one final action to complete your night of relaxation. 

Just as Patrick found his way between your thighs, your heated moment was interrupted by the dejected sounding meows of your cat at the door, wanting to be let into the room. Both of you groaned, knowing that if you didn’t address the angry furball waiting for you, you really wouldn’t be able to enjoy your night. 

“We’ll pick this back up in the morning,” he promised you as he got out of bed. 

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” you laughed, sitting up and pulling your discarded nightgown back on while you watched Patrick open the door for your pet. Predictable as ever, she jumped into your bed and sat down where she always liked to sit between you and your fiancé.

“This has to be the most spoiled cat in all of human history,” Patrick commented as he sat back down next to the two of you in bed. 

“Whose fault is that?” you teased as you pet the purring feline. Though he would never admit it, Patrick somehow loved your pet even more than you did. You often found him holding and cooing at the cat, or doing research on new toys and puzzles to enrich her.

“We share responsibility for it,” he dismissed, causing you to giggle. 

“Sure,” you replied, not even bothering to hide the incredulity in your voice.  

As the two of you sat in bed, you settled into your typical evening routine, with Patrick reading a book beside you and you catching up with your friends over text. 

Out of the blue, your partner spoke up, grabbing your attention. “You still haven’t told me about how the presentation went.”

You groaned aloud and turned to look at your fiancé, reading glasses perched on his nose and an open book laid on his chest. His beauty, even in a moment of not being all put-together, felt like it should be a crime. 

“It wasn’t my best work,” you confessed. “It was kinda my fault. I’ve been so preoccupied with all the wedding stuff, that I basically just let Art throw together the presentation. I just felt so unprepared, but it’s fine, I guess.”

“I’m sure you did better than you think you did,” he assured you. “And if you didn’t, that’s also fine. It’s over, and I don’t think anyone’s gonna remember that you were a little unprepared.”

Though you’d reassured yourself with similar words, it was nice to hear it coming from your partner. 

“You’re right. Presentation aside, thank you for making me forget about the real world and all of my problems for a little while,” you leaned over and kissed his cheek, and felt your cheeks warm as Patrick followed up your kiss on the cheek with a real kiss. It amazed you how even after years of being together, he was still able to give you butterflies. 

“That was the goal,” he was obviously happy to see that this evening of sweet actions had the intended outcome, based on the wide smile on his face. 

You bit your tongue to hold back a sappy love confession, knowing that Patrick surely wasn’t in the mood to return you one, but you couldn’t think of anything else more obvious than the mutual love you felt sitting in that bed, thoroughly pampered after a rough day. 

As you laid there next to your grinning fiancé, you couldn’t help but wish that your wedding would come even sooner, so you could look forward to endless nights of domestic bliss. 

[fabled-fiction]

Not Canon

Spider!Reader x Miguel O’Hara Implied

Summary: You’re a Spider and so is Miguel, which means it just isn’t meant to be. No matter how hard Miguel tries to convince himself otherwise.

Word Count: 687 (issa short blurb)

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR SPIDERMAN: ACROSS THE SPIDERVERSE.

You weren't canon.

At least, not for him.

There was a very specific formula that everyone had to follow, that he had to follow.

It has his word, basically his gospel. In order to keep the multiverse, the infinite web of realities together from collapsing in on itself. Never diverge from canon events.

He knew if he got too close to you he would absolutely diverge, or worse. You would get close to him and your world as both of you knew it would crumble.

And oh how he loved how much you loved your Earth.

Your Earth, the one that you fought oh so valiantly to protect. You were different from the other Spiders he could tell. Sure every Spider took their role with grace eventually, they always did. Some took some convincing while others only needed a few days. But you were different. 

You didn't even question your role after you were bit. Despite having no idea or clue as to what a Spider person was, it was like you immediately knew that you were destined for greatness after that bite. You transformed your role almost as quickly as that spider had transformed you. 

That's why you were recruited for the Spider society. It was an easy decision, sometimes he thinks it was too easy of a decision that he had made. That Jessica had made, that Layla had barely put a word in for. You were a Spiderperson for less than a month, but just like your role as a Spider you took your role in Spider society in an instant. You were a natural. 

Maybe it was the fact that your spider events weren't necessarily the same as every other spiders. That's what Miguel told himself whenever he let his mind wander a  bit too far, whenever he wanted to convince himself that maybe your timeline could be different. That you and him could pursue each other. 

He told himself that whenever he found himself looking too long at footage of yourself. Whenever you were away from the society, valiantly defending your Earth from the known enemies of the Spiders whenever they decided to finally pop up in your reality. Or just when you were here, thwiping about and teaching new charges about their roles in the ever expanding web.

Whenever he found his heart beating a little too fast. 

Whenever he had himself almost convinced that his aching hand could finally be cured by the hold of yours.

You were supposed to end up with an MJ. Those were just the rules. Just because you had not found your MJ yet didn't mean Miguel could occupy that space until the time came. Cause if he was being honest with himself the minute he made you his he wouldn't step down. He had taken the role of someone else before, he had replaced someone else’s role on another Earth.

That Earth was gone now, because of him. 

He would not go through that again. 

He wouldn’t let you EVER go through that.

Whenever he found himself lecturing the newest recruit that was taking the news a little too hard that a loved one had to die, saying his infamous speech about how saving one person was not a valid reason to doom thousands that little voice in the back of his head would begin to speak up. 

Because if he was being honest with himself, he was a hypocrite. 

And maybe that was the irony of his situation. That he was already breaking canon, that he would break canon just for you to be happy. But it was his canon, and other’s canons that he was metaphorically sacrificing just for yours to remain.

He would let a thousand Earths fall to ruin before he could even imagine letting you see yours fall. 

“Hey Miguel, you got a second?”

He would let every Earth burn just for a moment with you, you didn't even have to ask.

Because that's all he would allow himself. Faint moments, passing glances, and a few words exchanged. It was just barely enough to satiate his thirst for you. But it was enough to get by.

Because he wasn’t canon.

At least not for you.

[manias-wordcount]

Drinks with a Devil (Mephisto Pheles)

Kinktober 2024 Day Three: Biting/Marking

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

You think you’re tipsy by now. No, not think- you know you’re tipsy by now. But arguably, it’s not your fault.

The two of you were just supposed to be talking over dinner. He just invited you one day with the promise of an entertaining and “productive” night when it came to both of your futures and goals. And naturally, you accepted. Simple as that, really. And when the day came, he just took you to a private room at his place where there was a spread already laid out for the two of you. A cute little traditional Japanese-style dining room designed after the customs of a nation he loved so dearly.  

And over dinner, he made great conversation. Even when the things you both were conversing about didn’t feel so pleasant. And even when you weren’t exactly sure you could trust him on his words. After all, he would weave stories into his speech. It’s in his nature. Exaggerations and lies and occasional truths and half-truths being sprinkled in here and there is an action that comes to him like second nature. And sometimes, he would smile knowingly whenever you would talk too. Like there was a secret about you that only he knew about. A secret that he was one day going to let you in on. But only one day. Though at the same time, he was an encouraging host. An inviting one. A great one.

Because not only were you served the most delicious delicacies you have had in a while, but you found that whenever you would empty your cup, he would always be right there- filling it up with another round of warm sake for you to enjoy. So soon enough, one cup turned into two. Then three. Then four. And perhaps a shot or two of whatever spirit he had stored by the table. And maybe something else that couldn’t quite remember. But it’s not your fault that you ended up this way. Honest. Because at this point, it almost seems he planned for this to happen. Like he wanted this to happen.

“Mmm…I’ve been looking forward to this, you know?”

Like that was the whole reason he invited you over in the first place.

“Mephisto…” You whine his name softly through ragged breaths, unable to bring yourself to raise your voice louder or put any more behind your words. You squirm slightly against him, but there’s an arm tightening itself around your waist that keeps you from moving too far away. After all, he needs you to be still. He said that to you earlier- that you have to be still for him. Otherwise, he would run the risk of hurting you more than he initially intended to. Not that it mattered much for him, of course. “Mephisto, please!”

He’d be able to have his way with you no matter how much blood he draws.

At your cry, the man in question makes a sound of acknowledgment, but he doesn’t stop what he’s doing. Instead, he just continues to occupy himself with your neck. Kissing at the parts that were once exposed by your attire for the evening. Licking at the sensitive spots across your throat. And of course, sinking his teeth into your flesh and sucking hard while one of his hands travels and teases its way up your dress from the bottom.

The pain his actions caused you nearly forced you to sober up very quickly. But he was even quicker with placing more bottles and glasses of booze against your lips before you could truly start coming down from the very sweet, warm, buzzy feeling that your previous drinks imparted onto you.

Though truly, all of this started tonight when you began to sway while sitting on your floor cushion. Your vision was swimming a little by this point. And some of your words started to slur together. But you were supposed to do another shot with him. He insisted, after all. Though when you seemed too reluctant to pick up your glass, he beckoned you over to his side of the table and placed you on his lap. The next thing you knew he started groping you over your clothes and promising to treat you well if you’d promise you’d be his for the night. And at this point, you only half-remember the response you gave him. But you know it made him happy judging by the image of the self-satisfied smirk you recall him giving you. But now that he’s gotten started, you’re not sure you can quite handle what it means to be his. Even if it’s just for a night. 

Because when he kisses your neck? The kisses are soft- like any lover’s should be. But when he bites it? He bites like the demon he is. He bites using his canines to dig in, and he uses the rest of his teeth to leave big, nasty indents and grooves that he promises will go away eventually. He bites hard enough to draw blood and licks that same blood up with his tongue and an all too satisfied smile. And he bites hard enough to cause you to whimper and whine and groan in pain while he makes some claim about how he needed to do this. About how he had to.

“I simply just cannot help myself, my dear,” He had once murmured in between the hickies delivered to your skin. The pleased hum in his voice and the rustling of fabric as your body presses against him fills the room. He has you right where he wants you. Right where he wants you. But is this right where you want to be? “This was far too good of an opportunity to pass up on. You understand, don’t you?”

You don’t understand. But at the same time, you feel like you do. You’ve heard the way he was purring at you all night. You’ve seen the way he has looked at you before this night. You’d be stupid if you said you’ve never realized that he was being more than obvious when he was flirting with you. Still, you had been alone with him before. He has so many chances to do this to you. To do this exact thing to you. So why now? Why after all this time?

And why is he marking your skin and your body like you’ll still be his after tonight? Why is he treating you like something to be claimed? Something to be owned. By him and him alone.

You whine and thrash when he bites over a particularly sensitive part of your neck- the junction between that and your shoulder. He’s quick to hush you with soft praises you could never imagine coming out of a demon’s mouth. Things that are so sweet and so tantalizing that you would have nearly fallen for him if the part of your brain that was still a little more sober than the rest of you decided to give in. But you saw the way those devilish eyes looked at you. You know what he’s like. You know what he’s truly like. 

But you were stupid enough to drink from a demon’s cup. You were stupid enough to let your guard down in front of one another and let yourself become completely and utterly vulnerable.

So is it really all that surprising that you’re just now realizing that perhaps you’re stupid enough to enjoy this too?

[kyoteugly]

If not Buddie, why Buddie shaped? #2

Following my theory that season 7 and 8 are new seasons 1 and 2 on abc, where the writers revisits the big events from character’s pasts and retells them (you can read it here) I want to look closer at new episode 8x06 “Confessions”.

This is all fresh in my mind, I watched the episode like 4h ago, there is a chance I’ll miss something.

Like I said, I think we’re going to see at least 4 more big moments revisited (or rather the emotional state those events invoked) from previous seasons before Buddie goes canon. Kitchen scene, well, will and shooting arc. And one of those happened in this episode! But also so many other things! 

EDDIE:

Starting with Eddie in the confessional. I can’t help but see his fight club era here (call me bias, I love season 3 Eddie so much!). An attempt to find a healthy outlet to his emotions. He’s struggling and fighting with his inner demons, this time instead of rage it’s sadness and loneliness. 

And he is doing it with an outsider's help. Father Brian is like Lena Bosko. Why Lena and not Frank? I think Eddie would just shut on therapy at this point. He needs someone to talk to, someone with opinions and advice, caring enough to want to help but also not afraid to go straight to the point and call his bs - Lena and Father Brian did just that.

Ok. Time to revisit a big event from Eddie’s past - the well. ABC put the call with the little boy trapped in a pipe in episode promo as the red herring. The real purpose of this call was to remind us about the Eddie Begins episode. The important thing from Eddie Begins is that Eddie was alone in the dark pit - and in the end he saved himself. 

So the real connection between those two episodes is not in the call where 118 saves the little boy, but between Eddie coming out from underwater, drawing a deep breath and Eddie shaving a mustache, shedding his mask and dancing, breathing fully again.

sorry for the meme, I'm tired

It’s also interesting that the moment Eddie allowed himself to feel joy Buck knocked at his door.

BUCK:

This one is pretty straight forward. Like I said before, Tommy represents Abby - a transformative relationship - like Buck said himself. The fact that Tommy was engaged with Abby is a really beautiful way to further connect and close both relationships. What leads to the break up from Tommy’s side is also similar. Tommy knows he would fall deeply for Buck, and Abby didn’t come back because she knew she would lose herself in Buck. They were both protecting themselves.

And here is also a little parallel to Ali. Like her, Tommy offers Buck a proper and honest break up, showing maturity, understanding and clear reason why. And yes, Ali was also protecting herself, ending their relationship before they broke each other's hearts.

And one more thing from Buck’s side. The whole Abby thing throws him off. Maddie tells him it’s not a big thing, Josh tells him not to judge Tommy (honestly, Josh’s speech is amazing!) - this calms him down in the end, dating the same woman doesn’t feel awkward anymore. But the questions Josh is asking leave Buck confused. Taking the next step, moving in together - it’s like Buck is trying to prove he really feels those things Josh was talking about (or maybe even compensate for his “freak out”, confirm he’s fully into this relationship). And on some level Buck has those feelings, he cares about Tommy, but more than that, he simply feels he should be on the level Josh suggested and he wants this to work. It’s Buck’s impulsiveness coming to play, an action that causes reaction in a form of big gesture to confirm his feelings - a nod to his relationship with Taylor.

Fortunately Tommy explains those feelings to Buck (and to the audience) in a very kind way. 

Honestly, their relationship (the last two episodes especially) was handled beautifully, without unnecessary drama, without too much spotlight. It started with fireworks, naturally progressed and faded gently.

The cherry on top: Evan meant something more, something special for Tommy. Ending his goodbye with Buck means “we’re friends now”.

BUDDIE:

There are two things here I want to mention.

Ever since Gerrard separated Buck and Eddie this is the episode where we can see them working together as partners again. And this finally wraps up the divorce era.

The ending scene represents different scenes for each of them, ending different arcs.

For Buck the couch scene represents Abby’s comeback in season 3. He watched her ride off in the ambulance with her fiance (with Eddie solid by his side), and later he got closure from her.

For Eddie this scene represents him being embraced by the 118 after he dug himself out from the well. He’s connected again, no longer alone. 

And of course, the most obvious and sweetest thing - it’s the right couch (and they finally drink that beer).

Bonus MADNEY:

Couldn’t help but notice some revisits here.  Maddie’s postpartum depression is addressed very clearly, nothing to add here. During the pandemic Chimney stayed at Buck’s place, afraid to put pregnant Maddie in danger of catching the virus. Something happened on a call that changed his mind, made him overcome his fear and enjoy the future with his family. The same in this episode. But there is a little twist here and it involves brothers. In season 7 the new audience learned about Kevin. Guess who wasn’t yet introduced (and also took care of Maddie during the pandemic)... yes, I believe this season we will see Albert again. 

That’s it for now. Let me know if you want more posts like this. Feel free to contact me if you want some clarification or just to talk.

Tagging some people who may be interested (if you want me to remove you from this post let me know): @buddiebeginz @stagefoureddiediaz @lemotmo @inell

[steddieas-shegoes]

Hey! I love your writing so much so I figured I’d send a little request!

Could you doing something like Steve hase always noticed Eddie but Eddie is completely oblivious? With some first kiss/love confession?

OH ANYTIME!!! Thank you :) I am always here for pining and love confessions. The sappier, the better. The more nauseating, the better. The more I want to punch a wall, the better. I hope that happens here for you with this one! - Mickala ❤️

--------------------------------------------------------

Steve Harrington’s bisexual awakening was Eddie Munson.

He was 14 years old at summer camp for the last time because “teenagers just don’t go to summer camp, Steven.” Which was ridiculous because it was a summer camp for teenagers, but whatever, not worth arguing with his father about.

Eddie was there, hair longer than most of the other boys, floppy and curly like he was trying to grow it out but didn’t know how to manage it.

If there was anything Steve could do, it was manage hair.

So he walked up to him and offered to show him his routine.

Eddie laughed, honest to god tears falling from his eyes as he slapped his leg.

Steve just stared at him, not used to being laughed at, only with.

But Eddie seemed to sense that he was serious, so he calmed down, but kept a small smile on his face.

“Thanks man, but I can’t afford the shit you do. I just gotta deal with it.”

“I mean, you can have mine at the end of camp if you want. I’ll just buy more.”

Which felt like the right thing to say, but Eddie just looked down at the ground and shook his head.

“Nah. Don’t really need your charity, dude.”

He walked away before Steve could explain it wasn’t charity, he just really like his curls and wanted him to take care of them.

------------

It was hard not to notice Eddie at school. He made sure he was noticed.

Everyone said it was because he was a “fairy” and thrived off the attention, even when he was getting beat up.

One particularly nasty rumor said he liked being beat up.

So when 15 year old Steve heard all this, he obviously knew he couldn’t ever say a damn thing about himself or any interaction he’d had with Eddie.

Which was really just the one time he’d accidentally insulted him.

His hair was longer now, just past his chin. The curls looked a bit better, though Steve could tell he didn’t use any type of conditioner, and he tried not to let that bother him.

He watched him though, secretly, when he could get away with it. In the halls or the cafeteria was easiest since he could always say he was staring at a girl if someone asked.

The way he just always walked with his head high, his confidence unlike anything Steve had seen from anyone that wasn’t a jock, made Steve’s stomach flutter.

He heard Carol say “confidence is sexy” enough times to start believing it was true, and that was before he watched Eddie strut around the school like he wasn’t constantly being thrown insults.

He watched as Eddie formed his own little ragtag group of friends, all outcasts because of one thing or another, only building his confidence more.

He watched as Eddie started driving a beat up van to school, making a name for himself as the guy who would sell liquor out of the back on Fridays.

People still teased him, still beat him up, but they were giving him money for liquor for their house parties left and right.

Steve watched.

------------

Nancy was amazing, everything Steve wanted and everything his parents wanted.

She was going to have an incredible future, and encouraged Steve to work hard to have one too.

He loved her. He did.

But he still watched Eddie.

Eddie who was standing on tables in the cafeteria, giving speeches that honestly, weren’t that dramatic. Maybe if he was anyone else, people would actually listen.

Eddie who started dealing weed in the woods behind school a few days a week, admitting the liquor thing wasn’t for him when he saw how many idiot kids still got behind the wheel to drive home after the parties he supplied.

Eddie who was unapologetically himself in all the ways Steve wished he could be.

Nancy was beautiful, she was smart, she was determined.

But Eddie was like a forest fire, a small spark that ignited with just a small fan of the flame, his best qualities hidden behind the smoke.

And Steve wanted to burn.

------------

Steve graduated. Eddie didn’t.

He didn’t get into college, so his dad made him get a summer job.

Eddie didn’t really hang out at the mall, wasn’t really his scene, but he did come into Scoops occasionally, and apparently only when Steve worked.

His coworker, Robin, rolled her eyes when Steve insisted on scooping his ice cream into the cone, ringing him out at the register, and watching him walk out.

“Are you poisoning him slowly or something? Are you planning on doing something stupid? What’s happening?”

He never told her anything, just shrugged in response.

Until the Russians. Until their stupid truth serum made him spill his guts literally and figuratively in the mall bathroom.

Robin listened as he talked about every moment, every look, every doubt he ever had about his feelings. About how he loved Nancy, he did, but she would never be the one he thought of first when someone talked about a future, about love, about a life.

Robin listened as he cried, sobbed really, explained how he knew it would never happen, but it didn’t stop him from wanting.

She listened until she couldn’t anymore.

“Steve, you’re not alone in this okay? I’m…You know Tammy?”

“Thompson?” He sniffled, finally looking up at Robin.

“Yeah. I’ve had a crush on her for like, two years.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah.”

“But why her? She’s kind of awful.”

Robin laughed, a real laugh, not a drug-induced one.

“Yeah, but she’s also kind of not.”

Steve nodded.

“I know what you mean.”

They were trauma bonded, sure, but they were also just bonded through life’s fucked up ways of bringing people with similar qualities and interests together.

------------

If Steve knew the next time he saw Eddie Munson would be when he was wanted for murder, a small part of him actually may have believed you.

Not because he thought Eddie was actually a murderer, but more because he knew what the town thought of him, and would have expected nothing less in the face of the unexplainable.

The three-time senior was kind of fucked if they didn’t figure this out, looking at a lifetime in prison for a murder he didn’t commit.

Steve focused on thinking about that anytime his mind wandered to how Eddie held a broken bottle to his neck, his other hand pushing him back, his leg between Steve’s to keep him there.

Robin pinched him when she could see his mind starting to drift. She was the best.

And as they worked to figure things out, and fight their way through Vecna’s curse, Steve managed to have actual conversations with Eddie.

They weren’t really ever completely alone, no one was while they were figuring things out and making a plan, but they still managed to talk.

It was enough for Steve. Enough to know he could maybe be friends with him when this was over and done. Maybe go to his graduation, maybe help him leave the town that was ready to burn him at the stake.

He didn’t expect it to be it. To be all he got.

So when he saw Dustin sobbing over a bloody body, he didn’t waste time. He had Nancy put pressure on the worst of the wounds, made Robin get Dustin out, he needs to go, started begging, pleading quietly with Eddie to just survive.

“You can’t let the fire burn out yet, idiot. Not now, not like this.”

Nancy didn’t acknowledge what he was saying, but he knew she knew.

He was tearing his shirt into pieces, makeshift bandages the only option for holding him together as Steve found a way to carry him to the trailer and through the gate.

It wasn’t easy, but nothing about any of their Upside Down trauma had been, and Eddie was worth it.

------------

Steve waited hours.

Then he waited days.

When a week had gone by, Wayne pulled him into a hug and practically begged him to go home and get some rest.

“Our boy will wake up and we wanna look our best when he does, right?”

He couldn’t really argue with Wayne, not when he’d let him sit by Eddie’s bed with him for days.

He didn’t tell Wayne about his feelings, didn’t really know if Wayne was a safe person to tell, but he figured Wayne knew anyway.

When he managed to sleep for a few hours in his own bed, shower in his own bathroom, and eat an actual cooked meal, he found his way back to Eddie’s room. The nurses no longer paid any attention once Owens and his government buddies cleared Eddie’s name.

He walked into the same scene he’d watched for a week now; Eddie asleep, hooked up to more machines that any human should have to, chest rising and falling slowly.

But Wayne hadn’t made it back yet, hopefully getting more sleep than Steve had been able to.

So he took the chair closest to Eddie’s head, gently brushing some of his hair from his face and reaching down to hold his hand.

Even like this, bruises and scars littering his body and face, he was beautiful.

His fire was still burning, Steve could see it.

He managed to fall asleep like that, holding Eddie’s less injured hand in his, head on the bed against his leg.

------------

A hand in his hair woke him up.

Expecting it to be Wayne or Robin, he blinked his eyes open and slowly sat up, ready for another long day of waiting.

But it wasn’t Wayne or Robin.

“Eddie!”

Steve resisted throwing himself at him, knowing he would be in pain, but he let his hands hover over him to show he wanted to.

“Hey Stevie.”

God, his voice was so nice. It was like actual music to his ears. He never wanted to go so long without hearing it again.

“How long have you been awake? Do you need the nurse? Pain meds? Where is the pain?”

Eddie chuckled quietly, small smile visible under his oxygen mask.

“I don’t really know but the pain is everywhere.”

“Shit, okay. Let me go get someone. I don’t even know who’s on shift right now. I don’t know how long I slept.”

“Stevie.”

“Yeah?”

“Calm down.”

Steve let out a disbelieving laugh, barely more than a huff of air.

“You almost died, Eddie! And you’re hurting. I almost-” Steve choked on a wet sob, his throat closing up as tears flooded his eyes.

“You didn’t though. You saved me. I’m here right?”

Eddie’s voice was barely above a whisper, and it clearly pained him to even talk, but he was doing it for Steve.

Steve suddenly realized there was far too much space between them, that if he wasn’t feeling the heat of Eddie’s flames against his skin, he couldn’t convince himself he was still alight.

He gently sat on the edge of the bed, taking Eddie’s hand back in his own.

“I almost didn’t make it in time. You were so pale, Eds. So bloody.”

“But you did. You made it.”

Steve took a shaky breath.

He knew he needed to say it. He needed to tell Eddie why he did everything he could to save him, why he hasn’t left his side except at Wayne’s insistence, why he was panicking so much now.

Eddie squeezed his hand.

“Stevie, you think I didn’t see you watching me? I started to think you were gonna kill me sometimes with how often you just stared at me.” Eddie took a few breaths, closing his eyes as he focused on what he wanted to say and not the pain. “I figured it out there. After Nancy. That’s why I came to Scoops so much. Loved that little outfit.”

Eddie was smirking at him and Steve let out a snort.

“I hated that thing. Robin did too.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that Robin never helped me when I came in either. It was always you.”

Steve couldn’t look at him, not while he was being seen so clearly.

“And all this? With the monsters and crazy people in this town trying to kill me? But you were the quickest to believe me. The one making sure I wasn’t going crazy. And then the one who got me out of there alive, even though I didn’t think there was any way I would.”

“Why didn’t you stick to the plan? You could’ve escaped with Dustin, been safe.”

“Because the world couldn’t lose Steve Harrington.”

“It couldn’t lose Eddie Munson, either.”

Eddie shook his head.

“I think you’re the only one who feels that way.”

“Really? You think Dustin could have handled losing you? Or Mike? He’s a shit, but he cares. And me? How was I supposed to?”

“Steve…”

“No! You don’t get to decide that you don’t matter to people. Everyone loves you and everyone would have been devastated to lose you. Wayne’s been sitting in this stupid plastic chair for a week waiting for you to wake up. You think he would have been okay with losing you?”

“Eventually, yeah.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’ve heard.”

Steve shook his head.

“How do you not see how much people love you?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Steve didn’t quite know what to say to that. It’s not that he believed he was expendable, it’s just that if it came down to someone having to die, he’d rather it be him. Not to play hero, but because picturing anyone else dying was too much to bear.

“You’re loved, too. Every single one of those kids love you like a brother. Robin would probably marry you if you had boobs. I was willing to die to keep you safe, Steve. How can you not see it?”

“It wasn’t just me.”

“No. I wanted all of you to be safe. But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t the thought of you dying that made me cut the rope.”

“Why?”

“Because I watched you, too. All the time. I did things for your attention. I thought that was obvious.”

Steve shook his head. No way he was telling the truth. He constantly ranted about the popular kids, about how much he hated them and everything they represented. The hierarchy of high school continued into life and he wanted no part of it.

Eddie groaned as he adjusted a bit in the bed.

“I may need to continue this later, Stevie.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. Let me get the nurse,” Steve muttered as he got up.

The nurse bustled in only a minute later, followed by Steve, who thought through the entire conversation he just had with Eddie.

Did Eddie…like him?

No way. He couldn’t possibly like Steve. He hated the whole King Steve thing. He’d said so multiple times over the years.

But so did Steve.

He zoned out while the nurse asked Eddie questions and checked his vitals, thinking back to all the times he’d been watching Eddie in school.

How almost every time, Eddie had already been watching him.

How Eddie’s theatrics always waited until Steve was in the same room.

How Eddie glared at Nancy, even when she was helping him.

Steve watched as the nurse put a new bag on his IV pole, explaining to him that this would be a morphine drip that would probably knock him out for another 12-24 hours.

He watched Eddie nod along, past the point of caring what was happening and just wanting the pain to stop.

The nurse finally left, and Steve didn’t wait.

He walked over to the bed, leaning over Eddie.

“You are an idiot,” Steve said, leaning in closer to his lips, grateful that the nurse had removed the oxygen mask and replaced it with a small nasal cannula.

“Am I?’ Eddie asked with a smirk, the lids of his eyes slowly getting heavier.

“Yeah. And I can’t believe I love an idiot so much.”

Eddie’s eyes widened for a second before they started to close again.

“You gonna kiss the idiot or make him fall asleep without one?”

Steve rolled his eyes, but leaned in to place a soft kiss on Eddie’s dry and cracked lips.

Eddie smiled into it, but didn’t seem to have the energy to kiss back right now.

Steve pulled away and rested his forehead against Eddie’s, gently, like he would break if he put too much of himself against him.

“You owe me a good one when you’re not high on morphine, deal?”

“Mhm. Deal, sweetheart.”

Steve blushed at the name, but Eddie’s eyes were closed.

Wayne walked in only a few minutes later, eyes wide.

“The nurse said he was awake?”

Steve nodded from his spot in the chair, Eddie’s hand in his, fond smile on his face.

“Yeah, she gave him morphine so he can rest some more.”

“Good,” Wayne visibly relaxed. “He tell you he’s in love with you yet or do I have to keep waitin’?”

“Well, not in so many words, but, kinda.”

“And you? You told him?”

“I called him an idiot.”

“Close enough.”

Steve laughed. It felt so good to laugh.

Eddie’s fire had spread quickly, the smoke clearing away just enough to let Steve be engulfed in his flames.

Steve was burning, and it was everything he hoped it would be.

[mamaskillerqueen]

Have A Beer For Me || Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

A/N: This is sad, and short, and contains mention of Jake being with a woman. There is also a main character death. If you'd ever like more to this story, I'd be happy to add more to this world. Also! Got inspo from this song.

“Well, I have the most beautiful girl in the world waiting in my bed for me… and I don’t have it in me to make her wait much longer,”

All of the men around the table made a collection of noises. All are in the booing category. It made Hangman chuckle lowly with a shake of his head.

“I have one more cheers in me, and then I really gotta get going."

Everyone at the table quickly lifted their glasses, clinking them together as Jake started the speech he had dragged them all out to hear. Everyone knew it was coming but not a single soul was ready for it.

“Boys, I do gotta ask a favour… you know, if I don’t make it back from this one.”

“Hey man, that’s not going to happen. We all know you, you’re gonna pull through without a scratch,” Bob interrupted but with a singular glare from Hangman he snapped his mouth shut. Any protests that would have ensued were quickly shut down.

“As I was saying, if I don’t make it back, I need a few things from y'all. For starters, I don’t want any tears. My girl will have that covered. I want y'all to have a beer for me, and to keep my truck going. Big off-road treks that get the old girl dirty,” Jake laughed, trying hard to not think about how mad his girlfriend will be at his friends when they come to steal his truck.

This was the part he was dreading the most. This was where he was going to beg them to keep an eye on her. He was devastated to be going on this solo mission. It was surely a suicide mission, and prior to having met her, he was all for those. She had changed everything and he hadn’t had enough time with her. The little diamond ring that recently found its home on her finger was a testament to that.

“I need y’all to keep an eye on her, and when the time is right, you gotta find her someone who will love her like I would have. You know she deserves the world and more.”

No one acknowledges the break in his voice or the hint of tears welling up in his eyes. If all of the guys around the table were honest, they knew that this was what tonight was about. How could they not? Seeing the usually unshakable Hangman in near tears was messing them up more than they’d like to admit.

“And to end this sap fest… I’m proud I’ve gotten to be a part of this squadron. It’s been good to know y’all. Thanks for givin’ me a chance. I know I haven’t always been the best, but don’t you forget to cheer for them Longhorns on the away teams side any chance you get.”

As Hangman pulled his glass to his lips and finished off his beer the rest of his friends slowly followed suit. Rooster was the first to finish off his drink after, watching Jake carefully as he shrugged his jacket back on. They made eye contact, and Rooster couldn’t deny the sinking feeling this was the last time he’d see his newishly found friend. A nod was shared as Jake placed a hand on Coyote’s shoulder.

Javy quickly rose to his feet and followed Jake out the front doors. This was the hardest for him of everyone. He was doing his best to not let it show. Jake never talked like this. Then again, he was never ordered to a suicide mission by himself before either.

“We were gonna get married. Gave her Meemaw’s ring and everything. You’re my best man. Just needed you to know.”

Javy let out a heavy exhale, because of course he was. There would have never been a question of that. He appreciated the sentiment though, and as much as he knew he had to let his friend leave to see his girl, he really didn’t want to.

“I know, man. Always did,” Javy finally answered. His voice was a little more shaken than he would have liked it to be but neither of them acknowledged that either.

Javy held his hand out, waiting for his friend to shake it. When Jake slipped his hand into his friends they pulled each other into a hug afterwards.

“Take care of her while I’m gone,” Jake whispered.

“You got it, big man,” Javy returned in the same whisper.

Javy watched his best friend walk away, and climb into his precious truck. They used to joke that she was the only thing Jake would ever love. Boy were they wrong as ever. Javy watched as the truck disappeared into the dark, knowing it would be the last time he ever saw his best friend.

Jake’s plane ended up going down behind enemy lines. There was no rescue team. All that returned was a folded flag. Javy handed it off to his best friend's other half at his funeral. They both cried as the guns went off. In fact, there wasn’t a dry eye in the whole squadron.

The whole squad, including Phoenix and Halo, had gone to almost every Longhorns home game just so they could sit on the visitor's side and cheer as loud as they could for the home team. And every Friday night, the first and last song played on the old jukebox at the Hard Deck is always Slow Ride.

Javy and the girl who had turned his best friend into the man they had all become so proud to know took that old truck out for a nice long joy ride at least once a month. He had even introduced her to a good ole boy Jake would have hated but was exactly the kind of guy he would have wanted for her. She hasn’t been ready though, and Javy wasn’t sure she ever would be. That dainty little diamond still sits nestled right where Jake left it.

Whenever the sun starts to set, and the sky is a brilliant shade of reddish purple, Javy finds himself with a beer that isn’t his brand down by the shoreline. He whispers the latest updates of life to his best friend, holds the beer up for a cheers, and tells Jake just how much he’s loved and missed with tears in his eyes.

[coloursflyaway]

Ok, so I’m a big fan of your dbda fics and I saw you were asking for prompts. I have 2, one of which is inspired by one of your reblogs.

1. Charles kisses Edwin at the worst possible time, maybe ending in them getting captured and Edwin giving him a lecture on “time and place”, Charles arguing with “you’re one to talk about time and place”, referring to the hell confession

2. Preferably very angsty, Charles wants to kiss Edwin to try and figure out if he feels the same way, and Edwin stops him, saying something along the lines of “if we did kiss and you didn’t feel the same way I don’t think I could bear it”

Obviously no pressure to write either of them, but I would love to see how you would develop these ideas more.

Hiii, thank you so much for these ♥♥♥

I'm keeping the second one for later, because I really like that, but here's a little ficlet for the first prompt!

It’s not like Charles plans it to go like this, is it?

In fact, he isn’t sure if he could plan it like this if he tried, he’s not sure if anyone could.

It’s just something that happens, because, to be honest, it was always bound to happen at some point, and it’s not Charles fault that Edwin, well. Stood there. Looking so pretty with his perfectly coiffed hair and his kind eyes and high cheekbones.

Not even the look of slight exasperation had detracted from how much of a vision he looked, maybe because Charles has gotten more than used to it in the thirty-odd years they have known each other.

(He knows exactly how many years it’s been, how many months and days too, could probably reconstruct it down to the hour, but that gets to be his little secret, only admired sometimes in dark nights and especially bright mornings, when Edwin is reading or doing research or concentrating on something else enough that the tip of his tongue peaks out between his plush, pink lips.)

And Charles didn’t decide to take a step towards him, just like he hadn’t decided to reach up and put one hand on Edwin’s cheek, feeling the sudden breath Edwin had taken.

Two decades ago, Charles had persuaded Edwin to try breathing again, at least occasionally, as a little luxury, a little treat, and it still makes him smile to see Edwin do it, made him smile in that moment, too, and maybe that had been a decision.

But leaning in and kissing Edwin, that hadn’t been a choice at all.

Just something he had to do in that moment, because there was a little smudge of chalk on the edge of Edwin’s jaw, because Edwin had looked at him and behind and around and between the exasperation, he had looked so fond.

And Charles had thought, he loves me, and then, I love him, too.

What other choice did he have than kiss that love onto Edwin’s lips?

Only that when he pulls back, a smile on his lips and, if possible, even more love in his heart, Edwin is looking him with wide eyes and his lips kissed pink, but not curved, not smiling.

“Charles”, he starts, and Charles isn’t certain he has heard this tone in his voice before; it makes him giddy to think that this is something brand new he gets to find out about his favourite person in the world. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry”, Charles starts out of habit, then stops himself, brow furrowing. “Actually, no, I’m not sorry at all. That was great and I’ll do it again. And again.”

He grins at Edwin, happiness bubbling in his chest until he feels like he’s bursting; a sound drips from Edwin’s lips, something in between a gasp and a whine.

“There’s a time and a place-”, he begins a speech Charles has heard before, and it’s so easy to interrupt him this time, because Charles usually doesn’t mind the scolding, but there’s more important things right now, like kissing Edwin again.

“You mean, like not in the middle of summoning a demon? Yeah, maybe. But I’m not sure if you really get to talk about times and places. At least it’s not on the stairway to Hell, is it?”

And Edwin’s eyes widen even more, if that is possible, and not that Charles doubted it before, but God, he really does love him.

Without thinking, he moves his thumb to wipe the chalk from Edwin’s skin, and Edwin sucks in a breath, then, with the quietest, most hopeful voice, asks, “You do mean it, don’t you? You’re sure? This isn’t just a-”

“Of course I mean it”, Charles cuts him off, before Edwin can say anything else, can think that Charles might not be serious about this for a moment longer. “Have never meant anything more than this.”

Another breath, one that Charles can almost feel against his skin, and Edwin nods.

“Maybe, then, after the demon, we could-”, he starts, but doesn’t get to finish this sentence either.

“Sod the demon”, Charles says, and means it.

This time, when he kisses Edwin, it’s a choice, and it’s the best one he’s ever made.

[disventure-rewrite-takes]

As a Jake kinnie and supporter, an Aiden enjoyer, and Jakeden shipper- deadass the story would be more exciting if they dated.

Hear me out- Tom x Jake? It’s cute, but it honestly feels a little empty. If ONC wanted to focus on the Jam ship, they should’ve added more. The stupid “will they won’t they” should not be in my indie gay show!!

James x Aiden- nothing. No seasoning. No spice. No chemistry. Just fanservice. In my opinion, it doesn’t help that the first kiss they ever had was a little non-consensual. Aiden agreed to kiss him for like 2 seconds- not 10. Aiden was probably really uncomfortable considering that he didn’t like James at the time. Plus James’ entire personality is “Aiden” and “Social media” it feels like he’s an NPC.

So what if in DCAS Aiden used to love James, he really did. But recently, every kiss feels fake, every hug feels fabricated. James still loves Aiden, but Aiden doesn’t feel the same anymore. Getting back into the show was perfect! Maybe he could have the privacy to talk to Lake, maybe the spark between him and James would relight! But as soon as Aiden walks onto the plane, he spots Jake. Aiden LOVED Jake in season one- so he has a little fanboy crush as is. James gets voted off, and Aiden doesn’t really feel that upset, if anything he’s a little glad he won’t have to act super lovey dovey. He had a conversation with Lake before she gets voted off, and she basically tells him “It’s okay to not be in love anymore. Things happen, you should just be honest with him and break things off when the show is over.”

Jake on the other hand gets jealous of Tom and Aiden hanging out- but this time.. it’s not because of Tom. Jake is jealous that Tom is hanging out with this cute boy. Jake tells himself that he’s jealous of Aiden, as Jake has slowly begun to realize that him and Tom just might not be meant to be and he needs to move the fuck on. Eventually, Jake starts to realize that he’s thinking more and more about Aiden and tells this to Ashley- and she basically says “Well it sounds like you got a crush on Aiden, not Tom.” Jake understands this now- but because he’s bad with his feelings, he still acts kinda passive aggressive with Aiden. Yet he can’t help but joke around with him sometimes. When the merge happens and Connor gives everyone the speech, Jake realizes that he should be more honest with Aiden. So Jake and Aiden start to develop a friendship! Episode 13- the superhero one! At the end of the challenge! Make Aiden kiss Jake in the moment!! Because over the course of the show- Aiden was like “God Jake is so pretty” and then their friendship arc made him go “God Jake is so cool” then after the challenge- Jake and Aiden talk to each other- and become a couple.

This adds more to Jake’s character! He’s finally in a relationship that isn’t based off looks, they have chemistry, they have a genuine relationship arc and not that “will they won’t they” bullcrap. Then when Aiden gets voted off! Jake is like “I need to win this for me, AND Aiden!”

Also the moment when Jake finds out James is his helper in the final challenge? That “James.. oh g o d” is so much funnier because Jake and Aiden are dating now. And Jake has no idea about how James feels about that. (Don’t worry they establish that James and Aiden break up in the motel episode- James is sad but he understands)

hey hey hey as a big jakeden fan i am NODDINGGGGGGG

this is my own personal bias but i'd love to add james to their relationship anyways, jajames enemies to lovers is SO FUNNY - but i can totally get behind just jakeden. seriously they had so much chemistry.

i think i would change the kiss though, i'd let them get a kiss just maybe in the finale, granted that jake is in it. just so everything is consensual and sorted out, so we don't have to bear with 'cheating' drama with jaiden. they can still have those nice, awkward & romantic moments, like the hug in the lie detector episode (my god was that peak jakeden. that whole episode was spectacular for them)

i fw this hard

[ravenalla]

I think overall the main problem season 3 is having is the same as TBOBF, which is not giving the audience a well-established storyline and so not giving them a reason to care. This is probably gonna be long so bear with me.

Throughout the first two seasons, we had a clear goal for our main character. Sure Din did other things all the time, the “side quest” as the fandom liked to joke, but it always made sure to remind us what the motivation behind all of this was, keeping Grogu safe, finding him a Jedi. The story still introduced other characters concepts, but it made sure to always keep Din tied to them in some way that made us understand why this would affect him and why we should care. The side adventures never felt random, they all had a clear step by step progression as Din tried to get closer towards his destination. Moff Gideon was also not just a threat against Grogu, his rule under the Empire was responsible for the destruction of Din’s people. The conflict between them was personal, both because of Din’s newfound love for the baby and because of who he is. It all tied together to give us this intriguing but fun and adventurous story.

On the other hand, stuff in Season 3 just feels like it’s happening at random. It began looking like the main drive this season would be Din trying to regain his identity and the restoration of Mandalore as a whole. Instead, the former was solved in a matter of two episodes with little fanfare compared to how serious they made the situation out to be. No we get pirates both we and the characters have never seen before and have no reason to give two shits about. They’re gone for a while. Then suddenly back as a big threat we are suppose to take seriously for some reason. Din and the rest of the covert do not show any indication they are ready to rally the Mandalorians and take back their planet up to this point. Oh nevermind now they want to. Like there’s no motivation for our main character happening between episodes behind the random monster of the week stuff, nothing the covert is working towards.

Things are just happening out of nowhere, nothing feels like a cohesive narrative and Din isn’t getting any new development or character moments to make up for it. Aside from two things that have nothing to do with the actual Mandalorian, Bo and the New Republic.

Bo-Karan’s story is interesting, and I like her developing a relationship with the covert, but this is not her show. You should not be ending every episode with a shot of her like this has always only been about her journey, at least not here. It’s fine to have more than one main character, but you can do that without throwing away everything you spent two seasons developing with another one. I don’t even know why Din and Grogu are here to be honest. Are they really any different from the background Mandos at this point? Din’s speech was cool, but there’s not really been tight moments of friendship this season for us to get super emotional about him coming to Greef’s rescue from these random Disney channel villains on planet gentrification. It’s obvious now that Bo’s going to be the one to lead, so him showcasing traits of leadership probably also won’t even matter. Din is obsolete, and the heart-wrenching relationship between father and son is now being used for cheap Grogu brownie point moments when they actually remember they have to include them.

As for the New Republic, yes, as people have said this does expand the world and relate to stuff that is going to happen later that we don’t yet know about. The problem is, this is a completely detached event from the main character. Nothing (aside from the random reveal of Moff Gideon’s escape) relates to our main characters situations at all, and it is so clearly ideas from rangers of the new republic shoved in so they can squeeze already established plots they didn’t want to abandon. Because we don’t know why this matters at all towards Din, there’s really no reason to care at this point. Again, you can say there’s plot happening, but it’s all disconnected in a way that doesn’t keep us anticipating any type of ending. And look I’m not saying the show needs to spoon feed its audience or explain everything right away. My problem is everything is that Din is given nothing to do anymore. All of his problems that were built up for two seasons have been solved instantaneously, and we don’t even get many conversations between Din and Grogu as we use to, the driving force of the show. Neither do we get simple explanations for things like where the hell did all the new Mando’s come from or why they decided to settle there. It is both so busy and so empty.

The Mandalorian was never just about finding Grogu a home as quickly as possible, it took the time to show us Din’s personality, his relationship with himself, and the new relationship he formed with his son. So why is the show treating it like none of that stuff was important enough to take up screen time? That Din and Grogu had to take a backseat because showing two former Imperial officers having a meaningless conversation about a planet’s history was more important, that dedicating every emotional beat to Bo-Katan’s changing feelings left no room for exploration of the main character’s own when he is suppose to have been his most changed and isolated self yet, that setting up major plot lines and characters which will bleed into other shows was worth sabotaging what made the show so popular in the first place? The Mandalorian can have a bigger plot, it can have more characters, but when those elements feel like they can exist without that main character being there? That is just bad writing.

[remylebeaugambit]

So, I decided to wait a little to think this show over. As a Gambit fan I’m still pretty much bitter about it all. However, as an X-Men fan, I can say I understand why people love the show. But I also believe there’s an exaggerated amount of praise due to the fact that we’ve been starving for good X-Men content. 

I was going to write a much angrier version of this text (I actually outlined an angry rant but there were too many fuck yous), however I’m trying to be reasonable here. The animation is mostly impeccable (don’t like the way the women are drawn, but that’s a minor complaint), it’s colorful and vivid and fluid. The action scenes are mostly awesome too. So, yeah, there’s a lot of good in it. Having said that, there’s tons of problems as well and the great majority of fans are willingly blind to them because of, you know, the good and the lack of content for years. 

I want to be bluntly honest and say I’m glad that the showrunner had been fired. I wholeheartedly don’t believe he is deserving of all the praise he’s been getting because my biggest issues with this show come from the writing. It’s amazing and exciting to see scenes from the comics being brought to life in beautiful animation? Yes, definitely. But it’s not enough when the writing is rushed and lacking.

First, I thought I was biased because I hated what they were doing to Gambit, but now I really, truly don’t think this show that amazing. The first half of the season was mostly decent, there were things I didn’t like but that wasn’t enough to called it bad. Episode 5 was when the show peaked (although to be fair Gambit wasn’t in it much, it was the way he went down that made it memorable) but after that it just went downhill.   

All the plot holes, the playing favorites, the inconsistencies, the rushing through storylines, the terrible pacing, the loose ends, the weak motivations, the terrible character development, the retcon to characters’ relationships (so Ororo and Jean are sisters now? Ororo was way closer to Rogue in the original cartoon, but, you know, Rogue had to be isolated for her disgusting retcon and inconsistencies of character and decisions to work out. Newsflash asshole: they didn’t. Rogue was character assassinated. And though I love her in the original show, I wouldn’t be this angry if it hadn’t directly affected Gambit the way it did), and, of course, all the foreshadowing of Gambit becoming Death left to be (hopefully) resolved in the second season. That means there was no payoff. I repeat: the show was mostly curveballs and no real payoff. With a cast that big, you don’t expect all the characters to have satisfying character arcs but in this case if you aren’t a Jean, Scott or Magneto fans you’re left hanging. 

Storm, who has been friends with Gambit, simply didn’t even mention his death. The excuse was that ended up on the cutting room floor, but don’t be fooled, there was enough time for Ororo to smile and hug Jean and later tell her platitudes (what a boring, cheesy speech!). There was also plenty of time for all those insufferable Magneto moments. “You killed more people than the Nazis? Awwww that’s fine, cause you’re family.” 😉 None of it was cut, right? That leads me to my biggest gripe with his show: fucking Magneto. I hate that took so much space and was unironically written as an old man who groomed a teenage girl (they can lie all they want and say she was an adult. She WASN’T. She was a teenager with serious emotional issues), manipulated her, gaslighted her, isolated her and told her pretty things to bang her. I guess that’s what’s called romance nowadays. I mean, the show runner didn’t even try to hide his fetiches for the old creep. All those plot contrivances and conveniences to accommodate someone’s wet dream. 

Ok, so, I don’t want to go ad hominem on the show runner here, but to be fair, he’s been dishonest with us fans this whole time, he’s lied straight-faced, said a lot of stuff that hasn’t panned out, given dubious answers, manipulative and evasive comments, asked for our trust, even though he’d been lying and giving us false hope (trust is earned, dude; I stopped trusting him after the first lie, if ever), and there are people, Gambit fans, still being hopeful and taking his words at face value. Fucking seriously? THAT dress was just another spit in our collective faces. Wake up!), also he’s self-indulgent, and pathetic in his comments about being the master of magnetism (ok, I lied. So what?).        

All in all, I don’t think that show is as good as so many people are making it out to be and I’m way too happy about the firing of the show runner. To him, I say, thank you for tainting the legacy of something dear and pure from my childhood. Good riddance, please, don’t ever come back, sink into oblivion and go fuck yourself (ok, I needed at least one fuck you, he’s had it coming). 

Ps. Romy fans, mark my words, the old creep will be making passes at Rogue and since she has no personality in this, we can expect the worse, like little Charles next season or anything else that is just as irreversible. I’m mean, an old man fucking a teenager is already irreversible to me. But that’s me. 

[gingerlurk]

Lovers' Crest | Chapter 12: The Visit

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: You have more questions than before. The same goes for Din.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn, non-canon (the Razor Crest never gets destroyed, it also gets upgraded with a cabin), post season 3, Calvinball with canon and Mandalorian lore (making it up), light angst.

A/N: A short chapter here, will post the next one fairly soon. Been an interesting week to be a Din Djarin/Pedro Pascal fan hasn't it? Hope you're hydrating! Thanks for reading, big love.

--

The leader of the revived Mandalorian people is not so proud as to deny you to work on her speeder. She has a refreshing air of keen intelligence and frank regard. You like her.

Bo-Katan Kryze stands beside you as you fiddle with a mess of pistons and shaft lines. She asks an occasional question, but mostly looks out across the work site. Her people move about with quiet efficiency. They’re on a ranging operation – a huge group surveying a ruined city. Din had said he needed to go out there to see her – pay respects or something. So, after a terrifying meeting with a leader named simply, the Armourer, your group of three had flown the Crest out to join them.

The shade of the hangar is surprisingly cooling in the rocky, hazy clime. You spy Din by himself across the expanse, lifting crate after crate from a transport tray and stacking them neatly against a craft. You make a mental note to bother him later about adequate rehydration.

You’ve decided the person standing next to you is your best option to ask about what’s been gnawing away at you in the time it took to reach Mandalore. She and Din seem to hold each other in a profoundly high esteem, and you can see she deeply cares for him, and Grogu.

And, since Din’s big speech about the ‘sacrifices’ you made and the ‘honour’ and ‘loyalty’ you exhibited in retrieving that beskar cache, she’s ensured you’ve been welcomed and your offers to assist their rebuilding efforts accepted.

Although it was mostly when she’d reached up, removed her helmet and looked you dead in the eyes that did it. When you realised there was so much here you didn’t know. So much about Din Djarin the Bounty Hunter. So much about Mandalorians. What little you’d gleaned from discs and stories. It was nothing at all.

Still, it was just the one question you couldn’t shake at the minute. Just ask it. She’ll give you an honest answer, you think, then you’ll know.

You twist a coil of wire around and around the kit, worrying at it over much as you force the words out.

‘What does sha--’ you pause on the unfamiliar word, push it around your mouth. ‘What does shareekah mean?’

Bo-Katan turns to you sharply, but keeps an even gaze that takes in your pinched features and nervous fiddling with the bit’s end.

‘Cyar’ika?’ she asks, putting more softness on the final syllable than you had managed.

‘Sure, yes. That,’ you strip more rubber from the coil and continue twisting.

You glance sidelong at her, see Bo’s eyes soften. Then you look out into the glare. She follows your gaze to see the lone figure straighten and stretch out. 

‘It’s a form of endearment,’ she murmurs. ‘Generally, it means “darling”, “or “sweetheart”.’

The part ready, you slip it into place, plugging the ignition gauge into the new switch you’ve created, trying to remember how to breathe. You can handle this.

But, Bo continues. ‘It’s meaning is contextual though. In certain contexts, it can also be held to mean, “most beloved”.’

Oh. Force the new question past dry lips. ‘What kind of contexts?’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she shrugs, arches a brow. ‘Bringing a stranger with no clan to a secretive people’s home world and convincing everybody present it was a really good idea?’

You jam the speeder’s hatch closed a touch too hard. Bo looks back at you. You give yourself a shake and huff, ‘Okay, she’s ready.’

A couple of flicks to the dash and the machine hums to life.

‘You’re going to see a lot more room at the top end now. And the glide will be tighter. I suggest heading out somewhere flat and opening her up.’

Bo-Katan gives you a small smile, a hand on your shoulder. ‘Thank you,’ she says. She replaces her helmet and swings a leg over the saddle, wasting no time zipping out from the sheltered spot. The engine roars overhead a moment later and you hear an honest-to-gods, ‘Wooooo!’ fade out.

That makes you smile. It’s a relief.

Another speeder glides in and you prepare to begin again. The towering rider dismounts and takes up a stoic vigil behind you, leaving you to your thoughts. You glance up and see Din out in the sun, looking back at you.

After witnessing a compelling ritual of armoured Mandalorians filing through a mess tent, some taking to gather around dotted fires to remove their helmets and eat, and others stepping away, fanning out to private spots – including Din, hand first squeezing your shoulder gently – you excuse yourself, begging fatigue, and head the short distance back to the Crest. 

The dusk air finally brings a cooling breeze, and you settle on letting that carry your simmering nerves back down to the earth. Seating yourself in the opening of the ship, feet thumping out a nervous pattern on the ramp, you breathe the sharp air and try to calm. You’d been growing aware of the true depth of Din’s feelings for you – even before you’d finally reckoned with each other. The conversation with Bo-Katan confirmed it. And now you’re left to wonder why it has sparked such a sharp panic within you.

There was no question you’d fallen hard for Din Djarin. Who wouldn’t? You thought you’d experienced great, epic loves before – but they all paled compared to this.

A problem was that when those old romances had crashed and burned, you’d never been sure you could piece yourself back together. And now this. What would happen to you if you lost this? You angle to the side and lean hard against the wall of the Crest, willing its cool hard surface to draw you down into yourself. It seems to hum back.

‘Be honest,’ you say aloud. ‘Am I completely fucked?’

Silence. Your breath ghosts against the wall of the ship.

Another problem was the one that had settled hard over you since stepping foot on Mandalore. This was a devout people, with a troubled and difficult history. The customs and culture were rigid, out of a survivalist’s necessity. And, as far as you could tell, their beliefs revolved around mystic superstition and ancient scriptural doctrines. Even the more pragmatic among them, like Bo-Katan herself, had an air of fateful intent around everything they said and did.

It had all given you the distinct feeling that what you and Din had found together did not fit into their way.

Even if it did, what did it mean? 

What did the love of a Mandalorian mean, ultimately? Where were you heading? What was Din expecting? You know he takes it all incredibly seriously – it’s his identity. How do you fit into all this?

You don’t know how to ask these questions. So, with an avoidant will, you push them to the side. Ferry them away like so much else. For now, you think dimly.

Out of the darkened evening, you spot a pair of lights heading for you. Din and Grogu emerge into the glow of the Crest a moment later. Grogu hurries forward to hop into your lap and you nuzzle the top of his head, enjoying his content purr and feeling calmness wash over you finally. 

Din takes you in, huddled in the door of the ship with his son. ‘Shall we get some rest,’ he asks, approaching you with a hand outstretched. You take it and stand, letting him crowd you around and into the hold.

--

Later, when you’re asleep against his chest, cool breath tickling his neck, Din once again thinks back to his conversation with the Armourer. 

After depositing the beskar and engaging in a stilted exchange of formalities, you and Grogu had been dismissed. You’d shot him a puzzled look as you followed the kid out. A what-the-fuck-is-her-deal kind of look.

Once alone with the Armourer, the two of them had sat down and discussed the best use of the beskar.

‘We have many needs, now that Mandalore is revived,’ she’s saying. Din just nods and agrees with whatever she suggests, flattered to accept an upgraded flamethrower. He’s just waiting for the inevitable. The Armourer’s perception and intuition were always an intimidating thing.

And sure enough, once the ingots of precious metal have been allotted, she goes still and stares hard at him.

He waits. Feeling not entirely ready.

She looks to the door you’d exited through, then returns her gaze to him.

‘You have coupled,’ the Armourer says.

‘Yes.’

‘She is not Mandalorian.’

‘No…’

A long, pregnant wait. She leans in.

‘Have you ever removed your helmet?’

‘No.’

‘Has it ever been removed by others?’

‘Never.’

‘This is the Way.’

‘This is the Way.’

She stands and strides to her forge.

That wasn’t so bad, he thinks. But then he’s thrown.

‘Do you know why we follow the Way, Din Djarin?’ she asks. He’s not sure what answer she is seeking. ‘The main reason?’

Once again, he waits.

‘To survive,’ she says. ‘We have been a diaspora, carved apart and hunted. We’ve followed the Way so we may continue. Do you think that holds true now that we are a united people of Mandalore?’

She turns back to him, seems to be genuinely waiting for an answer. He says, in all honesty, ‘I don’t know.’ 

It hadn’t even occurred to him to question it.

She tilts an appraising helm at him, moves back to sit opposite him again. He’s never witnessed her so restless.

‘Neither do I,’ she says, low and intense. He’s floored. ‘But I contemplate this question, every day, seeking the answers for the good of our people. As I do so, you should contemplate the questions that plague you now. Where do you fit? And where might she?’

The Armourer lets that shockwave wash through him. Then, changes the subject.

‘Your apprentice, Din Grogu, is due for his first Sojourn of the Will with his fellow students. There is one coming in a single moon’s turn. It is an important undertaking for every apprentice.’

Din welcomes the change in the course of this discussion and thinks. He knew he would have to face Grogu taking part in one of these things eventually. Had been dreading it actually. But it had to happen sooner or later.

‘I suppose now is a good time,’ Din ponders. He doesn’t want to be apart from his kid. But the Armourer’s right, it is an important rite of passage.

And, it means alone time with you. Time to figure all this out.

Time to tell you how he truly feels, maybe.

--

Prev | Next

(I am ambivalent about the movie announcement - swinging hard in positive-negative directions. But I don't think I like the new artwork that came with it at all. Something about the light reflected on Din's helmet is giving me BSG Cylon vibes? And is that an exploding ship he's jet-packing away from? Because if so, how is the poor child breathing...? Anyway, those are my thoughts byyyye.)

[alezangona]

The Shadow of Khansar (Salaar Fic)

Part 8 - Dawn of a New Empire

Part 7 | Part 9

Note: Slight NSFW I think?

If Varadha was being honest with himself, he didn’t really know how they’d gotten to this point. The last vivid memory he had was of Deva being worshiped like a god in Mahit’s garden. Then the space cleared, leaving him and Deva behind as silence surrounded them like a blanket, unable to voice the emotions bubbling beneath the surface. The stillness continued to unfurl, shrinking and expanding in its journey, till finally they found themselves navigating an unexpected terrain, together yet alone. 

Then came the days of battle, where they had gained and lost so much in the span of so little time. There were many moments of glory that brought the men together in celebration and fewer moments of loss. Those are what stood out the most at the end of it all, where soldiers mourned for their fallen comrades, their will to fight vanishing just as fast as it would reappear when the unquenchable desire for vengeance was reignited by Varadha’s rousing speeches. 

Through many of those moments, Deva was physically next to Varadha, refusing to let any harm come his way. Yet, there was a fragile distance between them that he wasn’t able to give name to. Maybe he could’ve if he tried hard enough, but it scared him beyond measure to even consider it. Not when it had been days since they’ve felt each other… since they’ve held each other. 

So, their army continued to fight. Varadha and Deva continued to stay at a loss for words.

Now they are here, in his father’s throne room: Deva holding his sword to Raja Mannar’s neck. 

Varadha considers if he should be feeling more anger after their earlier interaction where his father expressed his disdain towards Varadha, how he regretted having him as a son, how he was a shame to the Mannar clan. Even now, Varadha knows he should be irritated as Raja Mannar refuses to dignify his presence by keeping his gaze firmly on the fuming outline of Radha Rama, his pride and joy, who stands by the entrance of the hall, unable to act. But at the moment, he feels nothing. So he gives the order and his father’s head rolls to a stop at his feet.

A few days later, the scene would appear in his sleep. He would startle awake and cry as regret consumed him. He would wish that he could somehow rewrite the past. He would wish he could’ve stopped his father from killing the Shouryanagas and that he could’ve preserved the loving relationship they had during the first ten years of his life. 

That was to come in a few days' time. 

Then it would continue to haunt him for the rest of his life.

For now, Deva removes the large bracelet from Raja Mannar’s arm and throws the husk of his father’s body across the room. Varadha doesn’t look, but he hears the corpse thud loudly against the wall. Deva steps to the side, gesturing for Varadha to take a seat on the throne marred by blood. He tries not to think too hard about the squishing sound that envelops him as he takes a seat… or about the barbaric scene in front of him, where so few people were alive to witness this hoax of a coronation. 

“All hail to Khansar’s rightful heir!” Deva’s voice booms through the room as he holds up the thick bracelet. “Your Kartha– Varadha Rajamannar!” 

Varadha hears shouts of joy from his soldiers and friends as they go down to their knees. The only emotion he feels in that moment is relief when he sees that his family is okay, bowing towards him with large smiles on their faces. Then his hand is lifted from its position on the throne and Deva slips the heavy band on his arm. Their gazes catch for a moment, grasping on with steadfast determination, forcing time to stand still. Varadha isn’t sure what Deva sees in him though, because within seconds, he’s also kneeling by the foot of the throne.

The only person who remains standing is Radha Rama, pure hatred oozing from her striking eyes, clouding the room in a dark fog that jostles Varadha to his core. He knows at that moment that he should let his guard execute her. That it would be the only way to quell the tempest that would approach in his future. Except, he’s sickened by the massacre and tired of how alone he feels in a position he firmly believed he wanted just a few days ago. 

So, he continues to stare at her, unfeeling and uncaring as he waits for the inevitable consequences that will follow.

~*~

He doesn’t know how it happens, but within the next few days, the palace is cleaned up so well that there isn’t a trace of blood to be found. Even the streets are spotless, soon filling with the chatter of people milling about in their daily lives, the gore of turmoil forgotten easily. The change in atmosphere is enough to give Varadha whiplash, but there’s no time to ponder it for too long.

Preparations are made promptly for his official coronation. Amidst that and all the meetings with delegates to figure out the logistics of his court and new policy implementations, Varadha doesn’t have time to breathe, much less relax. Even the evenings, where he should technically be free, are spent holed up in a room with Baba and Mahit as they draw up plans for the future of Khansar. 

When he does have time to let his thoughts wander, he thinks about Deva. Deva who he hasn’t seen or talked to in weeks. Not properly anyway. They would see each other during certain weekly meetings, where they would be situated on two different ends of the room, speaking no more to each other than was necessary. Then, Varadha would leave with his team to handle his duties as Kartha, and Deva with his own team to handle matters of national security. 

With how much their army and people admired him, it was a no-brainer to appoint Deva as the Commander in Chief. At least it was to Varadha. The look of disapproval on Mahit’s face made it obvious he believed otherwise. He later approached Varadha telling him it was a bad idea to let Deva hold so much power over the whole of Khansar. His opinions on that particular matter were never brought up again after Varadha’s angry rebuke. 

Finally, a few days after his coronation, Varadha catches sight of Deva wandering in the palace gardens and gives up on maintaining any semblance of aloofness. He pulls on a thin, black robe and makes his way through the wing, a single destination in mind. 

“Why won’t you talk to me?” Varadha believed the question would come out sounding a lot harsher and a lot more annoyed than it did. He just sounds tired.

“You’ve been the one keeping me at a distance for weeks now,” Deva doesn’t even seem surprised by Varadha’s appearance, turning to face him slowly. “So maybe I should be asking you.” 

“I haven’t been-”

“Don’t.” It’s the first time Deva has ever spoken to Varadha harshly, and it’s enough to stop him in his tracks when he hears bitterness layered beneath the word. “Don’t lie to me. You haven’t talked to me or looked at me the same way since that morning.” He runs his hand through his hair, tugging at it in frustration. “I was hoping we could fix it, but you gave me nothing. What was the point of trying after it became obvious that what we had was over? You made it obvious that it was time to move on.” 

“Over?” Varadha flinches harshly beneath the moonlight, the pleasant breeze suddenly unbearable against his skin. Deva doesn’t say anything, staring blankly at Varadha and it infuriates him that he can’t read the thoughts running behind those charcoal eyes. 

Still, the phrase is enough for a sudden barrage of memories to dance across Varadha’s vision. Every moment since that morning, seen in a different light than before. 

Nausea begins to set when he thinks vividly of his coronation ball. It was nothing more than an event Baachi insisted he throw to celebrate their victory and build his network within the inner circles of Khansar. Yet, every time he would jump from conversation to conversation, he would catch a glimpse of Deva sitting in the furthest corner of the room. At first, he was alone more often than not, a relaxed set to his shoulders that signified to Varadha that he was happy not being bothered. 

Then, at some point of the night, there was someone else. They were draped elegantly in a smokey, silver sari, thick hair plaited together in a braid that dropped over their shoulder, a bright red rose tucked into the top. They were introduced to him at some point as Ila, a journalist there to cover the event. Varadha didn’t think much of it then, mind filled with a checklist of duties to complete. But now, he remembered the way the two of them sat together the entire night. The way that Ila waited with Deva till the very end of the party, following him out the door… 

“Moving on as in, you’ve been seeing someone else?” Varadha whispers into the darkness. Deva’s brows pull together. 

“What?” 

“That journalist from the party? Ila.” Varadha can’t control the sharp edge to his voice, his eyes narrowing accusingly in Deva’s direction. “Or if not them, other people? Is that what you’re telling me?” 

“That’s not what–” Deva suddenly sucks in a sharp breath. “Hilarious coming from you when you’ve been attached to Mahit’s hip for weeks now. What right do you have to be mad at me?” 

“Stop it,” Varadha takes a step forward, hands fisting at his sides. “I would never do that. I would never insult what we have by moving on the second there’s a bump in the road. I wouldn’t do that to you because I’m not capable of forgetting you as easily as you did me!” 

They glare at each other, bodies wound tight with frustration as the sounds of night surround them. From far away, an owl hoots into the night, its melodious cry carrying gently in the breeze. Every so often, bats pass overhead, the strong beat of their wings echoing in waves around them. As the crickets chirp, uncaring for the plight of humanity, the fresh, green smell of the garden inhabits the space between them, imploring them to break their silence and join the conversations of night.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” Deva starts, hands tucking into his pockets. “It would kill me, but I wouldn’t stop you from being with someone you deserve. Not when I’ve been a monster… and I don’t regret it for a second, Varadha. When I found out Rudra was the reason you got hurt, I couldn't think beyond that. I told you before and I’ll tell you again– no one is allowed to touch you, to harm you. If they try, they won’t make it a step past me. They both had to die that day.

“Then you came down that morning, and you didn’t know how to react. You didn’t know what to do. I never meant to put you in a position where you couldn't recognize who I was. Where you were scared of me. And I tried, I tried to come talk to you… but you looked at me differently than before and it broke me. I thought it’d be best to give you space, to let you approach me.” Deva shrugs. “You don’t owe me anything Varadha. I have no right to be mad. Regardless, I’m still on your side, I always will be. In whatever capacity you want me.” 

The words ring strongly just as they did that first night between them. It takes all of Varadha’s strength not to drop to the ground. Instead he moves closer to Deva, coming to stand chest to chest, his hand gripping the arm with the tattoo. 

“What made you think I was scared of you?” The incredulity rings strong. “I was taken aback because it’s always been too much for me Deva. Every time I start to believe I know who you are, that I know what your limits are, you do something I never could’ve expected. Every moment from the electrical shock, to Naarang’s head, to Rudra’s death… you go so far for me, and I can’t even begin to fathom why.” 

“You know why.” Deva turns his face up to the sky, begging for strength. “There’s no one else for me but you, Varadha. Your name is carved into every inch of my being.” He brings his hand up to Varadha’s neck, pulling him so close that their bodies finally align, slotting together perfectly. “You are my sun and I am your shadow… I simply don’t exist without you, ra.”

“Deva, I–” Varadha gives in, finally understanding the extent of Deva’s devotion, and reaches up to press their lips together. The feeling of being able to do so after so many days makes his knees quake and within seconds, Deva’s arms are wrapped around his waist, supporting him. “I love you.” He allows himself to say it, to voice the emotion that has consumed him since he was a child. 

Deva’s grip around him turns to vice, a strangled sound leaving his lips as he really looks at Varadha. Then he’s back to where he was before, devouring the taste of Varadha in the cold of night. He refuses to break, hands moving across the planes of Varadha’s body, re-exploring the length of him in fervor, and attempting to melt into him. By the time Deva pulls away, his thumb rubbing gently against his pulse point, Varadha’s pleasantly light headed, choosing to support himself by grabbing onto Deva’s bulging biceps. 

“I love you too, Varadha. So damn much…” 

~*~ 

“There’s a swing in your step today.” Mahit raises a brow at Varadha when he steps out onto the balcony for their meeting.

“What?” Varadha questions, blinking at the man through his sunglasses. “No there isn’t.”

“Mhm, could’ve fooled me.” Mahit doesn’t push him too much though, nodding at the seat across from him. “Anyway, I was going through the Nibandana and am worried that some of these regulations clash against a few of the laws we’re trying to implement. I wanted to discuss a couple of thoughts and concerns I had with you before my meeting with Krishnakanth and the legal team.” 

They spend the next hour diligently looking over any and all issues, cross referencing them with the pages of notes they had taken down, before putting together a file of information for Mahit’s meeting with the legal team. Anand approaches right on time, bringing with him a tray of coffee that Varadha downs all too happily.

“Okay come on, now that we’re done with this, what’s with the sudden burst of energy?” Mahit’s lips quirk up into a teasing grin.

“Is it a crime to be happy, Mahi?” Varadha shrugs, looking away as he feels himself flushing lightly. 

“No, not at all. Not when you look like this.” His eyes sweep up and down Varadha’s form approvingly. 

“Okay, that’s enough of that.” Varadha rolls his eyes and sits up a little, fixing his posture to be less casual.

“Fine, your wish. But I hope you know I’m just telling it how it is. Happiness is a good look on you.” Mahit shrugs casually. Then he notices something behind Varadha and his face brightens even more. “Devaratha! Come, join us!”

“Baba’s calling you Mahit,” He responds dryly, coming to stand being Varadha’s chair. “Something about drafting the trade agreement with the Russian Bratva.”

“We did that already, I thought?” Mahit frowns, pulling out his notes and flipping through them. “Did he say what exactly about them?” 

“No, just that he needed you.” Deva rests his hand on the back of Varadha’s chair and leans casually to the side. Mahit groans, standing up and grabbing the necessary files.

“Fine, feel free to make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back as soon as I’m done with Baba.” Once he leaves, Varadha turns to look at Deva, skepticism written on his face.

“I thought Baba was supposed to have a meeting with the Ghaniyaars today?” 

“He does.” Deva shrugs, coming to stand in front of Varadha. 

“Then what was that about?” He flicks his chin to the side, staring up at Deva in amusement.

“He was getting a little too comfortable with you,” Deva steps forward, leaning down to pull Varadha’s sunglasses off his face. “It was getting on my nerves.”

“Oh?” Varadha observes with open interest as Deva straddles him in the chair, placing the sunglasses off to the side, wrapping his arms around Varadha’s neck.

“Yeah…” Deva leans in, kissing him with teasing nips and licking between his lips. Varadha’s fingers dig themselves into the flesh of Deva’s hips, a low rumble forming in his throat.

“Not that I don’t appreciate this, but he’s going to catch us when he walks back in.” Even as he says it, he doesn’t really make an effort to nudge Deva off. 

“So? Maybe he’ll finally get it into that thick skull of his that you’re mine.” Deva gently bites into the flesh of Varadha’s bottom lip, pulling it out slightly before releasing it. He watches greedily as the skin begins to swell, sensitive to the assault, particularly after the events of the previous night. Varadha meanwhile, swallows hard.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep Deva.” His hands lift higher, making their way to rest under Deva’s shirt, coming into contact with his warm skin. “If you’re going to show him I’m yours, I expect you to do it properly.”

Deva’s pupils darken and without further prompting, he tugs at the gray scarf wrapped around Varadha’s neck, peeling it away to reveal the love bites he had peppered on his skin earlier. He places soft kisses across the length of his neck, coming to nibble gently at his earlobe as he brings his hands under Varadha’s shirt to run his nails over the muscles of his abs. Varadha lets out a sigh of pleasure, tilting his head back against the chair and allowing for Deva to explore his body as he sees fit. 

Deva slips himself out of the chair, getting to his knees in front of Varadha, who acknowledges the action by gazing hungrily at him from hooded eyes. Deva wastes no time in reaching under Varadha’s black dhoti, wrapping his fingers around his hardening cock to pull it out. He runs his thumb over the tip of Varadha’s head, leaning down to blow at it softly and bites back a smile when Varadha twitches with anticipation. 

Deva begins to lick at the tip while his hands pump the length of his cock leisurely. He tightens his lips, inching his way down Varadha’s shaft, pulling back up before going back deeper each time. Soon, he’s bobbing his head at a rapid pace, his tongue exploring every inch of sensitive skin, lapping up pre-cum as the hairs of his beard scratch teasingly across the surface of Varadha’s dick. 

Varadha moans at the feeling, fingers twisting themselves into Deva’s hair as he begins to thrust up into his mouth, impatient and desperate to chase his pleasure. Deva hollows out his cheeks immediately, allowing Varadha to take control and to use him for his own gratification. Deva begins to play with Varadha’s balls, tugging and squeezing, while running his other hand across the skin of his inner thigh. 

“Fuck,” Varadha whimpers, his cock twitching between Deva’s glistening lips as he continues to shove his dick into the warm cavity. “God, Bangaram. You’re the only one who does this to me. You’re the only one who drives me crazy with need.”  

Deva watches from below as the Varadha’s face twists with pleasure. His eyes are closed, lips forming a small O, and chest heaving with aroused breaths. Deva slowly swallows around his cock, savoring the salty taste of him against his tongue as he manages to pull another groan from between Varadha’s lips. 

That’s when he catches sight of Mahit frozen in the room overlooking the balcony, shock painted across his features at the unexpected sight. Their eyes meet and Deva feels a burst of possessiveness overtake him. Instantly, he hollows out his cheeks further, taking Varadha so deep into his throat that his nose touches against his stomach. Two more thrusts is all it takes for Varadha to come crying in his mouth, falling back against the chair and swallowing heavily as he tries to control his breathing.

Deva meanwhile, keeps his gaze fixated on Mahit, swallowing the musky taste of Varadha, his tongue darting out to swipe away at any excess lingering on his lips. Mahit’s eyes snap to capture the gesture, his eyebrows furrowing for a second before he turns to leave the room, the door closing quietly behind him. 

“Come here,” Varadha grabs Deva by the collar, pulling him back into his lap to steal eager kisses. He then buries his face into the crook of Deva’s neck, laughing to himself. “God, I love you. Do I tell you that enough? That I love you so fucking much?”

“I think you could stand to tell me a little bit more, actually.” Deva replies, a burst of happiness exploding within him upon hearing the words from Varadha’s mouth. 

“I’m glad I have your permission, because I’m going to spoil you rotten with those words. I love you, Bangaram.”