#made my best friend in those trenches but let's not do it again

[letterstoalonewolf]

Waves of Forever

Jacob Black x Reader

Summary: When Jacob surprises Y/N on their favorite beach, years of love come crashing together like the waves at their feet. As the sun sets on La Push, they realize that forever has always been within their grasp—they just need the courage to reach for it.

Continue reading below ⬇

───────────────────────────────

The sun dipped below the horizon, leaving La Push Beach bathed in shades of fiery orange and muted purple. The salty tang of the ocean filled the air, mingling with the soft rustling of the waves. Y/N sat cross-legged on a worn blanket, her toes buried in the cool sand as she gazed out at the horizon. The setting sun painted the water in brilliant hues, and for a brief moment, everything felt serene.

But Jacob wasn’t sharing in the peace. He was pacing back and forth, his bare feet leaving uneven imprints in the damp sand. His broad shoulders, usually so relaxed, were tense, and his hands alternated between clenching at his sides and raking through his short, dark hair.

“Jake,” she called, her voice light with amusement, though a trace of concern threaded through it. “You’ve been pacing for twenty minutes. If you keep this up, you’re going to dig a trench. What’s going on?”

Jacob stopped mid-stride, his lips pulling into a tight line. His gaze briefly met hers before darting away, his usual confidence replaced by something she couldn’t quite place—nervousness? For Jacob Black, who faced rogue vampires without flinching, the sight was rare and unsettling.

“Nothing,” he muttered, but his tone was unconvincing, even to his own ears.

She raised a skeptical eyebrow, her head tilting as she studied him. “Nothing? Jacob Ephraim Black, you are officially the worst liar I’ve ever met.”

He huffed a soft laugh despite himself, his lips twitching upward for a moment before the tension returned. “Okay, fine. It’s not nothing. But it’s not something I can just... blurt out.”

Her curiosity piqued further, and she leaned back on her hands, the corners of her mouth lifting into a teasing smile. “Since when have you ever been subtle, Jake? Just say it. Whatever’s on your mind, you know I can handle it.”

He stopped pacing and turned to face her fully, the golden light of the setting sun casting a warm glow over his russet skin. For a moment, he just looked at her, his dark eyes filled with an emotion that made her breath hitch. Then, as if deciding something, he stepped closer and crouched down in front of her, so they were eye level.

“Y/N,” he began, his deep voice carrying a vulnerability she wasn’t used to hearing. “Do you remember the first time we came here together? Just us?”

A soft smile tugged at her lips as the memory surfaced. “Of course. You dragged me out here at the crack of dawn because you swore it was the best time to surf, even though I had no idea what I was doing.”

He grinned, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “And you face-planted more times than I could count.”

“Hey!” she protested, swatting his shoulder lightly. “In my defense, those waves were huge! And you weren’t exactly the most patient teacher.”

Jacob chuckled, the sound low and warm, before his expression softened again. “Yeah, maybe. But that day... it stuck with me. That was the first time I realized how much I wanted you in my life. Forever.”

Her heart stuttered at his words, her teasing smile fading as her chest tightened with emotion. “Jake...”

He held up a hand, stopping her. “Let me finish,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “You’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember. My partner in crime. The person who makes everything—no matter how messed up—feel okay. You were there when I thought I’d never get over Bella. You never judged me, even when I was a mess. You just... stayed. And somewhere along the way, I realized you weren’t just my best friend. You were my everything.”

Her breath caught in her throat, a whirlwind of emotions swirling in her chest—shock, joy, love, and something she couldn’t quite name.

He reached into the pocket of his cargo shorts, pulling out something small and silver. Her brows furrowed as he held out his hand, palm up.

“Just take my hand, would you?”

She blinked, confused but intrigued. “What are you—”

“For crying out loud,” he interrupted, a hint of exasperation breaking through his nerves. “I’m trying to ask you to marry me!”

The world seemed to still. The crashing waves faded into a distant hum, and all she could focus on was the simple yet elegant silver ring with a small turquoise stone resting in his palm. The stone caught the last rays of the setting sun, glowing softly.

“Marry you?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her racing heartbeat.

Jacob nodded, his dark eyes searching hers as he bent to one knee. “Yeah. Marry me. Not someday. Not ‘eventually.’ Now, soon, whenever you’re ready. I know it’s crazy, but I’ve never been more sure of anything. You’re it for me, Y/N.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she stared at the man kneeling before her—the boy who had once pushed her into a tide pool for fun, the teenager who had stolen her fries, the protector who had always been there, no matter what.

“Are you serious?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Jacob chuckled softly, his nerves giving way to his usual charm. “Do you think I carry around rings for fun?”

A laugh escaped her, half-sob, half-disbelieving, and she covered her mouth with her hand as tears slipped down her cheeks.

“Jake, I...” She paused, her heart pounding in her chest. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Yes is a good place to start,” he teased, though there was a hint of pleading in his tone.

Her chest felt like it might burst as she nodded, a radiant smile breaking through the tears. “Yes,” she said, louder this time. “Yes, Jacob, I’ll marry you.”

The relief and joy on his face were immediate, and before she could process what was happening, he surged forward, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her off the blanket. She laughed through her tears as he spun her around, his own laughter mixing with hers.

“You just made me the happiest guy in the world,” he said, his voice thick with emotion as he set her down gently.

“And you’ve made me the happiest girl,” she whispered, cupping his face in her hands.

He slipped the ring onto her finger, the cool metal fitting perfectly, as if it had always been meant for her.

They sank back onto the blanket, the weight of the moment settling around them like a warm embrace. The sun had dipped fully below the horizon, leaving the sky painted in deep purples and blues. The first stars began to twinkle above, their light reflected in Jacob’s eyes as he gazed at her.

“So,” she said after a long moment of comfortable silence, “does this mean I have to learn how to surf properly now?”

Jacob laughed, the sound rich and carefree, filling the quiet beach. “It’s a lifelong commitment, babe. No backing out now.”

She smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. The warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the sound of the waves created a cocoon of comfort and love around them.

As they sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Y/N realized that the future she had once feared was now something she couldn’t wait to embrace. With Jacob by her side, she knew there was nothing they couldn’t face together.

[fetishfairytales2]

Besties 6 (Story)

This was originally written as a continuation of a story by [no longer active] called Besties.

—————

Besties 6: Alone with Ms. Lyndsey

“Heather, seriously?” I laughed; “is Connor really cool with all of this? Cause I know he’s not, y’know…” Heather laughed in response, walking out of the nursery, back to her bedroom. "No, he’s too much of a real man to give a shit about that," she snickered, pointing to Brandon, "Brandi just has a tight little ass that could milk a big dick and Connor likes to fuck it occasionally!"

Heather went back into the bathroom to wrap things up, leaving me alone with Brandi. "Connor gets it," she called out. "Sometimes I just want him to tear into Brandi’s ass because I get off on seeing it." There was a moment of silence. "Other times, Daddy Connor just wants to show her who the real man is in this household."

"Does Brandi like it?" I couldn't help but ask even though I already knew the answer. Heather emerged from the bathroom, rocking a killer outfit with her tight trench coat and those red heels, looking like a total babe. She had the biggest grin on her face. "The real question is," she giggled, "does she even have a choice? Now, Brandi, I'm heading out. You better behave for Ms. Lyndsey, be a good girl. Don't forget, if I hear any complaints, Daddy will find out!"

She turned and gave me a wicked grin. "He'll be getting punished either way, good girl or not. But if she acts up, let me know. I'll send you all the deets and instructions. Don’t forget, her dinner's in the fridge. Oh and do me a solid, share all the pics and vids I send you tonight with Brandi. She loves seeing Mommy's naughty side during my date nights!" She hugged me and lightly tapped Brandi's butt before strutting out of the room with a smirk.

I couldn't help but smirk as I saw Brandon, the man who was once so full of himself, reduced to nothing but a pathetic little sissy in a frilly dress and diaper, forced to face the consequences of his asshole behavior. I loved that my best friend had made it all happen. She took away his power, his pleasure, his whole life. I bet she wasn't done yet either. "Oh, look how far Brandi has fallen," I taunted as I grabbed his hair and pulled his head up to meet my gaze. "But don't worry, we can make you sink even further."

"You, like, have noooo idea how much shit I'm about to put you through, baby bitch," I cackled, eyeing Sissy Brandi's pathetic little frame. I pivoted, checking myself out in the mirror. This situation called for a whole different vibe. I came dressed down to Heather's place, but now it's time to bring out the big guns. I rummaged through her drawers until I found the perfect thing: a sexy black lingerie set.

Turning to Brandi, I couldn't resist poking fun at his sorry excuse for masculinity. "Heather and I have been swapping clothes and men since college," I said with a sly smile, knowing how much that would hurt his fragile ego. "All of them way better than you, of course." I held up the lingerie set and let him squirm in embarrassment. "But hey, some things never change, right?" I could practically hear him whimpering under that gag, clueless to what was happening behind him. Tossing the lingerie onto the bed, I couldn't wait to see his reaction.

I ran my perfectly manicured nails through Brandi's hair, feeling him tremble as I whispered, "Relax sweetheart, we have all night to play. No need to get too worked up just yet." A sharp slap on his ass made him squirm with anticipation as I continued my search, this time in the nightstand.

I pretended to be all innocent, asking with a sly smirk on my face, "Hm, I wonder if your mommy has any fun toys hiding in here?" I couldn't help but laugh as I found the handcuffs and the Hitachi wand, more evidence of Heather's kinky side. I turned again to Brandon with a smug look, ready to ruin his night.

"Anti-crucio!" I yelled, watching as Brandi immediately spun around to face me. My grin couldn't get any bigger as I twirled the handcuffs on my finger. "You have 12 seconds of freedom, just to hear how screwed you are, Brandi," I gloated, poking my finger into his chest.

[stereopticons]

fic pride friday

Rules: Post your favourite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

Thanks for the tags, @rmd-writes and @kiwiana-writes! I struggled with this because apparently I’ve never written anything in my life! So I’m sure once I post this, I’ll go oh damn I can’t believe I forgot x!

Tagging @hippolotamus @blackandwhiteandrose @rosedavid @indestructibleheart @mostlyinthemorning @filet-o-feelings @nontoxic-writes

Under the cut because it’s a lot of words

a long winter of indifference

The gap between their bodies is maybe six inches at most, but to David, it feels like miles. That little sliver of Egyptian cotton might as well be the Marianas Trench for as impossible as it feels to traverse, and every night they don’t cross it, it gets a little wider.

The crack on David’s heart gets a little wider, too.

David isn’t sure when it all started, can’t pinpoint a moment when it all began to fall apart. It was insidious; by the time he noticed something was wrong, the chasm between them had already formed.

If pressed, David would probably say it started with Clint’s heart attack around Thanksgiving. Though it was relatively minor—thankfully—the recovery was still long, and Patrick put a lot of miles on his old Toyota driving between Schitt’s Creek and West Canthor. David tried his best to be supportive, but the stress of keeping the store running while Patrick was away, of sleeping alone more nights than not, of constantly worrying about the Brewers—all of them—was caustic and ate away at the soft parts of him. The strain caused Patrick to shut down and to shut David out.

By the time Patrick was able to return to their lives, the holiday rush was in full swing. Neither of them had the time or energy to deal with anything that wasn’t the store, let alone the ever expanding rift between them.

The resulting infinitesimal shift in their marriage grew and swelled with each little stressor—the anemic sales throughout December putting a strain on their savings, the damage the cottage sustained in an early January snowstorm, all the little swipes and jabs they’ve taken at each other in the intervening months—and now David is staring at the rigid line of his husband’s back, afraid that something’s been irreparably damaged.

It’s been a long time since things felt this hopeless.

tangle and stretch

Patrick is thirty-two years old when David asks him if he believes in soulmates, and this time, he’s prepared.

“Yes,” he answers without hesitation.

David turns to stare at him. “You do?”

“You seem surprised.”

“Well…yeah,” David replies, still staring at him with his mouth hanging open. “I mean, you are the numbers guy.”

“Ouch, David,” Patrick teases. David rolls his eyes. “Do you want to know why I believe in soulmates?” David looks hesitant, his still-ever-present fear that the other shoe is going to drop evident on his face. Patrick takes his hand gently. “I didn’t used to. But when I was ten, I saw a boy on the cover of a magazine.”

Patrick tells him about the magazine, about the Christmas cards, about watching A Little Bit Alexis. About losing him and finding him again years later at a moment that he sorely needed him. By the end, they’re both in tears.

“That’s why I believe in soulmates, David,” Patrick says, gingerly wiping a tear from David’s cheek with his thumb. “Because how else can I explain how I ended up here?”

your secret’s safe with me

Of all the Big Relationship Moments in all those rom-coms David made her watch, Stevie never expected that “picking your lover up at the airport after a long time apart” would be a thing that she’s into. There’s nothing romantic or sexy about airports in general; in fact, airports are probably the exact opposite of everything she finds attractive. But despite all of that, there’s butterflies in her stomach and a tingling at the base of her spine when she sees Ruth appear at the top of the escalator leading down to baggage claim. It only intensifies when Ruth spots her and breaks into a wide grin.

They don’t leap into each other’s arms, but it’s a close thing.

“Hi,” Ruth murmurs, her breath ghosting across Stevie’s neck as Ruth pulls her into a hug. Stevie inhales deeply, wrapping herself in the scent of Ruth–a strangely intoxicating mix of her fancy perfume and the scent of paper and ink. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Stevie sighs, sinking into the embrace. She’s never been one for public displays of affection outside of making out in bars, but it’s been too long. She leans up and presses a kiss to Ruth’s soft lips, relishing the taste of her mango lip balm and the coffee she must have had on the plane. It’s a relatively chaste and quick kiss because, well, airports. But it still kindles a small fire low in Stevie’s belly, one that she hopes they’ll have plenty of time to tend to later.

let my love fix you up

He’s not able to finish the sentence but he doesn’t need to. Patrick already knows. He can’t say he hasn’t had the same feelings bubble up inside him, like when the store was robbed or when David was in a car accident last winter. It’s the price of loving someone, he supposes, the crushing fear of losing them.

with a hand on your side of the bed

Last night was a revelation, in more ways than one. Of course it was wonderful to have the privacy to finally connect, and he’s certainly keen to repeat the experience, preferably as soon as possible. But he was surprised to realize how nice it was just to be able to fall asleep together, and even nicer to wake to find Patrick still there. He hadn’t quite dared to hope for it—there were too many mornings back in his old life that he woke up alone and lonely in a bed far too big for one. But Patrick stayed. And despite the morning breath and the under-eye bags and whatever crime his hair was committing, Patrick still brushed a curl off his forehead and kissed him and told him he was beautiful.

And how, after all of that, is David expected to go back to sleeping alone?

Sighing again, he flips over on his side and picks up his phone. The glow of the screen lights up the room and he squints at it as his eyes adjust. He wants to text Patrick, but he’s likely already asleep. And anyway, what would he say? It seems too early in the relationship to say sleeping in your arms ruined me for ever being able to sleep without you, no matter how true it might be. (Actually, the truth of it scares David more than a little. It’s too soon to think like this, in always and forever but he can’t help it.) He could just say I miss you, because that’s just as true, but he doesn’t want to come across as too needy. They’re already past the point in a relationship when people usually get tired of him, so he feels like he’s living on borrowed time.

His phone vibrates in his hand and a notification from Patrick pops up.

Can’t sleep. Miss you. Thinking about last night.

Before he types out a response, David hides his smile behind his hand, even though there’s no one around to see it.

coming home to you

Stevie thought that if she ever got the chance, she’d put the town in her rearview mirror and never look back, but the chances did come, from David first, then from Mr. Rose, and both times she chose to stay. Somewhere along the line, sometime between when the Roses crash landed in her life and when they left again (some of them, anyway), the town grew on her.

It’s been years now, but every time they pull into the cottage’s driveway after she’s been away, she thinks back to that afternoon when she and David sat on the hood of her car and she told him he’d won. It’s been years now, but it’s still true. And maybe she won a little bit, too.

the lie between your teeth

David spent years meticulously building up walls, brick by brick, protecting the already charred exterior of his marshmallow heart. It only took Patrick a few minutes to find the tiniest chink in David’s armor, a few days to pull down the highest walls, flaying him bare in a way that so few people have been able to.

After that, David just gets angry. Angry at Patrick, angry at his parents for landing them in this situation, angry at Uncle Eli for the same, angry at everyone, but worst of all, he’s angry at himself. He should have had better self-preservation instincts than this, should have known that landing in a ridiculously-named tiny town in rural Ontario wasn’t going to fundamentally change the course of his relationships.

[free-rangewriter]

What if. . . The Slaughter

The General Pt.3

Logs The Last War of the World

There was a bang off in the distance. Jason Ducked down. The war started how many years ago? He didn't know. But the Spider needed him to take this hill. It was held by the Hated Fire—at least that's what this platoon called themselves. They served the Desolation, and their explosives burned to the soul. Jason would know; he had lost half his legs to it. He charged forward and Pan Pipes filled his ears. And he hated it. He hated his Spider-like body and he hated that he feared his leader even more. The Spider was soft but very Venomous.

Carl had found himself in what looked like a war tent. He had just been stitching up someone in surgery but now he wasn't. In the middle of the tent was a massive map of a place almost like Earth. But it was twisted and labeled weird. His home of North America was labeled Land-o-War? Then the tent opened and a face he thought he'd never see again was there. Maxwell. His childhood best friend. But his face was etched with pain and anger. And he could feel something deep within him wanted him to hate this face. But he couldn't. He trusted Max.

Madison screamed the scream of an old soldier who only wanted an honorable death. She was running across No Mans Land. Any guy who tried to cross this area died almost instantly. So her Beast-like Commander told her to hunt those who made this land uncrossable. She could almost taste the cold blood of the Ones of Death. There was the sound of a gun and pain flared in her chest. But her need to Hunt overpowered the pain. And she leaped into the trench, ripping into the cold and pale flesh of the dead. She wished they were more alive and warm. She hated the Dead.

Carl tried to ask what was happening but Max just raised his hand to stop him. Max sat down and sighed. The map shifted as things seemed to happen. "Took a lot of Willpower to get you here and not out there. You'd be lost so fast. But here you are fine." He said. Carl almost forgot how calming Max's voice was. So even and cool. "War and Bloodshed has taken the world. And the Fears fight for dominance." He'd continue as he pulled out a very old-looking Knife caked with blood. Max placed it on the table softly. Carl was still confused but he didn't know what to ask. "So I made you my Wartime Adviser to try and spare you most of the pain." Carl could tell Max hated this. But Carl could tell Max didn't know what to do.

James stood behind the lines of the Rotting One's soldiers. He had to hold back his nausea because he had a mission. Sabotage for the Stanger. Make sure the Creeping Rot didn't get their land from behind their own lands. The rotting skin he wore itched and almost burned with a fever. He stood next to a pile of what once was a woman but now was mostly worms. He flicked his wrist softly and suddenly there was a a crash as several old and torn tents fell to the ground. James smiled softly with teeth that were not his own. But he hated the smell of this place.

Carl sat and listened to Max explain it all. Beings of Fear that sat and reached into ours. But he was forced to bring them all in. All are controlled by a want for control and war. Caused by the Fear Max was forced to serve. The Slaughter he called it. Bloodlust and Random Unexplained Violence. And that he was connected to it since Paul's death, or even before that when he saw his own father die. Max didn't know. All he knew was that the world was now at war with fears. And that he was the General over it all. And he hated it. But Carl's resolve only hardened.

Madison sat and watched. Her binoculars landed on a small figure trying to hide in the dark shadows. But Madison's hundreds of eyes could see anyone trying to sneak close to the tower. She quickly loaded the artillery mortar before aiming. She didn't let an eye look away from the man in the shadows. So that was easy. BANG! The mortar shell was launched and the shadows were burned away. Along with the man who tried to hide in it. Madison hated anyone who tried to hide from the Eye.

Carl thought and tried to plan over the months of helping Max lead the war. On all sides and on none. Sending one platoon to their death and another to help. It was so painful still. He knew that these little symbols were people just like him. Suck in the control of a fear. But Carl was stuck under the reign of the top Fear right now. The Slaughter. Carl hated it. Not for what it was, but for what it did to Max. Max wasn't the soft and kind self that he was when they were kids. And Carl knew that the Slaughter did it. And he needed to stop it. One way or another. But that was a plan for another day. Max needed help deciding on the Lost Fighters or the Deep Ones to send into a Vast Cliff. And Carl helped his friend.

[fandomworld9728]

Team Free Will - Chapter 4:

"Good afternoon. I'm Katie Killjoy."

"And I'm Tom Trench. Chaos out of Pentagram City today as a turf war is raging on the west side, between notable kingpin Sir Pentious and self-proclaimed spunky powerhouse, Cherri Bomb."

"That's right, Tom. After the recent Extermination, many areas are now up for grabs. Demons all over Hell are already duking it out to gain new territory."

"Those two seem to really be going at it, huh?"

"Seems they're fighting tooth and nail for that hot spot."

"And I'd sure like to nail her hot spot!"

"You are a limp dick jackass Tom! Or should I say, no dick?"

"Not again!"

"Coming up next, we have an exclusive interview with the son of Hell's own head honcho, who's here to discuss the royal family's brand-new passion project. All that and more, after the break. Suck it up you little bi-"

~

Bouncing to try and ease his nerves, Lucifer focused on the light tapping noises his boots made against the floor each time. At least before hands on his shoulders made him settle. He knew he should be calmer and more confident, but how could he? His mom had asked him to fill in for her to talk about the hotel! He couldn't let her down. Couldn't destroy their dream before it even had a chance.

"Okay. You remember what to say?"

Letting Cain and Vaggie straighten out his clothes and hair, Lucifer gave a small laugh at their fretting. "Yes. Don't worry. I am so ready for this interview! My first public appearance since I was a kid. So exciting!"

"Just look at me and I'll mouth it to you."

"Come on Vaggie~ You have no faith in me."

Shaking her head at the pouting prince, Vaggie smoothed out his shirt one more time. This had to be perfect. "I do have faith in you. However, I also know you get nervous easy and tend to ramble."

Handing Lucifer a donut from the snack table, Cain wrapped his arms around his ward's shoulders from behind. Both to calm the shorter of the two down and because he loved any chance at contact with him. "While it is endearing and downright adorable, Katie will not have the patience for it."

Finishing up his treat, Lucifer leaned back into the warm body behind him and lightly held onto the arms around him. "I know, I know. Oh! Maybe I could-"

"Sing a song?"

Tilting head back, he gave Cain a small smile. "You knew what I was gonna say."

"Could you two focus and not start flirting in front of me?"

"We aren't flirting, Vaggie. Cain is my best friend and my guard. He just gets me."

"Right. My point still stands. Please don't sing. This is serious, and I promised your mother that I'd keep you out of trouble."

It was a shame that Lucifer attracted so much trouble, especially when he sang. He was good person. Had a good heart and a beautiful singing voice. But Vaggie had to make sure nothing happened. She couldn't disappoint the Queen.

"Well, you know~ I'm much better at expressing myself and my goals through song."

"Get off the table you goof." Picking up the fallen angel, Cain laughed at how readily he clung to him.

Ignoring the two, Vaggie tried to get them back on track. While Lucifer didn't think of their interactions beyond close friends, she knew someone in love when she saw them. Poor, poor Cain. "Life isn't a musical, hon. just please stick to what we rehearsed."

"Ugh~" Getting back on his hooves, the prince tried to get the pout off his face. "I make no promises. You know how my brain works~" 

< Previous

Next >

[agustdiv1ne]

here are my thoughts about each song that absolutely nobody asked for but i don't care 🤣

ok GROWING PAINS??? THE WALLS ARE CLOSING IN I'M FALLING TO MY KNEES I'M WAILING BC THIS SONG IS EVERYTHING TO ME. i loveee rock music and this is also reminds me a little of what i used to listen to when i was in the deepest trenches of my middle school emo phase (and continue to listen to bc my emo phase never truly left me),, THE GROWL. BEOMGYU FUCKING GROWLED. ME WHEN. ME WHEN. ME WHEN. *INSERT WEREWOLF MEME* i am just. obsessed. absolutely Obsessed. ALSO YEONJUN'S HIGH NOTE????? ACTUALLY FUCK OFF I'M ON THE FLOOR

chasing that feeling is very 80s new wave and it is Everything to me. i could go over everything in the mv but i'm j gonna focus on the song for now. i love the route they took for the tt, it's very like. dreamy? to me?? and laid back and yet it sounds like it would be part of some action movie????? like hero training scene montage and BOOM CHASING THAT FEEEEELINGGG in the background idk...the synths are making me ascend i swear to whatever is above whoever added those synths in the instrumental deserves the best fucking head of their lives. beomgyu opening fairy, bro always makes sure to EAT THAT OPENING BROOO I LOVE HIM. AND THEN TYUN HIGH NOTE WOOOOOOOOO that Healed me...and hyuka's "come and kiss me" YEAH. YEAHHHH. can u tell i'm obsessed w this tt yet???? i need it tattooed onto my ear drums right now

DREAMER MF DREAMERRRR BROOOOOOOOOO i've been waiting for an rnb song like this from them since 20cm i fucking swear. and this just. BLEW ME OUT OF THE WATER,, their falsettos are so mf pretty esp soobin's like his voice was just made for this song bro. i swear. and then we got beomgyu's falsetto too?????? wow. wowowowow. i need more rn. AND THEN YEONJUN BROO CAME IN W THE "LET ME BREAK IT DOWN FOR YOU" AND I'M DYING. LIKE ACTUALLY DYING PLS DO NOT RESUSCITATE

ahahaha deep down is like. so chill and i loveee the beat omfg. like this is a song that i am going to play when i go on late night car rides, bass boosted n everything bc the beat. the BEAT. i need it injected into my veins immediately,, def not like. my fav off this album but i still enjoyed it ^^

ok happily ever after has me in a chokehold rn. i'm being so serious. it's so fun and catchy it's like a little earworm that i can't get out of my head!!!! it makes me wanna dance and sing and AHHHHH. the beginning "oh ma gawd" that was so cute...def my pick me up song bc it's so cute n fun n i definitely didn't expect to like it as much as i do <3 the power of txt <3333 LIFE IS NOT A FAIRYTALE!!!! also soobin's falsetto got me again i'm ascending yet again my friends...i feel like this song is encapsulated by the ✨️ emoji pls don't ask me to elaborate.

SKIPPING STONES. MY ABSOLUTE FAV OFF THIS ALBUM. THERE IS NO COMPETITION I FEAR.....it's very reminiscent of music i'd listen to while growing up esp the songs my dad would share with me...idk why but that connection just makes this song so much more special to me. also sounds kinda like a day6 song and as someone who loves day6 i needed this!! i love the rock influences so fucking much guys i am so obsessed with this song,,,, i need more songs like this immediately. asap. ALSO hyuka's high note. guys. guys. what the fuck. he is such a talented man i cannot rn

as if i could forget about blue spring — when i told u i started crying??? yeah, i started crying right when it started playing. i love them so fucking much u don't understand 😭😭😭 idk why they autotuned my men like that towards the end tho,, but yeah. this will be my official crying song for the foreseeable future 😁

and then. chasing that feeling english version??? hello????? i typically don't enjoy english versions too much but this one is so good omg. i def like the og more but i did enjoy it and it was a nice lil surprise!!!!

i could keep writing more but i will leave it at that. i'm sorry if u read this far u deserve financial compensation for being so strong

[casimirt]

Dear Readers,

This is an Ineffable Husbands request from one of my dear mutual @theugliestcrown, called Falling From Above. It is also on my AO3, if that's more accessible for you x

It was noon.

By now, after their morning of activity, most of the bustling city traffic had ambled its way home. Weekends around the bookshop's slice of city were always suspiciously quiet. Almost as if someone had wished it that way. It was cool and bright, yet the sky had that feeling to it like something was coming. Probably more rain if we're to be realistic. 

It had rained the past three days and it made sense for it to rain again today. But that didn't stop the clockwork stroll of demon and angel through the miraculously empty streets. 

Their Sunday strolls had become ritual, ever since Crowley had officially, and not without complaint, moved into the little corner building. Aziraphale knew he was used to the vast and empty expanse of his old flat, so had begun to suggest getting out of the piles of books now and then. And so, their promenading of Soho was born. At times Maggie and Nina had likened it to letting him out for a walk and a wee. Regardless, no matter the weather Crowley never declined. 

Rugged up in a dark trench coat and tall boots, the demon was begrudgingly wearing a crimson scarf about his long neck as well. It was lovingly, and somewhat poorly made by Aziraphale, and despite it not being quite cold enough, he wore it anyway. Walking proudly by his side was a robust bundle of tartan, tan and layers. A little paperboy style cap was on Aziraphale's head and was a compromise he had made for Crowley. The jaunty little top hat had been far too much of a statement for a Sunday, so it had remained at home. 

Sometimes, if they were distracted enough by each other, they would walk for hours. On one occasion they had ended up so far away they had to take an Uber home. This was a novel experience in itself, and not knowing how it worked, Aziraphale had tipped the driver double what anyone would have done, even an angel. Today however they stuck to the usual paths, winding in and out of their favorite shops, talking and stopping in for the odd treat. 

One of their favorite pass times was reminiscing about different points in time. Mainly the ones where they had met with each other, those were the best in everyone's opinion... Though, between the two of them they had a whole library full of fanciful and dramatic encounters without the other being present. It was always nice to discover new things about each other after all this time. Crowley, to their surprise had found out recently that Aziraphale was at one point the muse and close friend of Oscar Wilde himself. It had then prompted them to read and scrutinize the entirety of Wilde's work. Just in case it divulged any more secrets. Sadly, it hadn't. 

A fun fact that sent the angel reeling about a month ago, was that Crowley had in fact co-wrote or at the very least inspired, a few of Queen's greatest hits. Aziraphale then found it a bit self-indulgent that the demon liked their music so much. Of course, part of that was because of the Bentley they'd have you know. It had caused a minute spat when Crowley likened it to Aziraphale having Wilde's complete works on his bookshelves. It ended abruptly though when they decided it was best to not dredge up any more sordid moments from their past. Best to let some things be lost to time...  All in all, their mark upon history, and undoubtedly each other, was profound. From escaping the French revolution, to meeting on the moors fully clad in armor, they had spent some interest time together. Now, after doing so much for their respective sides, it was time for them. They were due for some quality time, where they weren't tempting or helping or sorting some out someone else's drama. 

The sun shone weakly through the gathering clouds, and the rapidly cooling breeze caused them to huddle closer together. Crowley was enjoying Aziraphale's animated recount of the time they had turned all of Job's goats into crows. It was a tumultuous time for the angel and his wavering faith, so it was nice to see he remembered some parts of it fondly. The parts with Crowley that is. 

Somehow, they had ended up walking hand in hand. Neither brought attention to it, but if asked they would both use the excuse of keeping each other warm from the cold. The first drops of rain fell as they rounded the corner, the street leading home stretched out before them. It wasn't enough for them to quicken their pace, and they weren't in any hurry to cut this moment short. They chatted as they strolled along, the sky above getting darker and damper as they walked. The demon glanced up at the sky, the misting rain beginning to fleck their glasses. 

"Looks like rain, angel."

"Indeed. Nothing wrong with a little water, though."

Aziraphale smiled, looking at Crowley with rosy cheeks. They did however speed up a little just as it began to pour. While there was nothing wrong with a little water, they hadn't planned on getting soaked to the bone today. Especially not in this hat, Aziraphale would have you know. 

Crowley squeezed the angel's hand as they pulled him along down the street, Aziraphale laughing merrily as they dodged a few fellow pedestrians. The sky had opened up and it was bucketing down. Big fat droplets drummed on the rooves and washed the streets clean. Little trickles in the gutter had turned into raging rivers, and the pair were getting very wet. It hadn't rained this heavily in a while. The last few days had been grey and drizzly, but this was unusual.

A beacon of shelter was up ahead, a patch of dry footpath beneath a dark blue awning. Crowley’s long legs made short work of the distance, and the angel was being practically dragged behind them. Laughing and trying to catch their breath, the pair beamed at each other. Clothes soaked and droplets of water sunning down their faces. Their shoes squelched and their heavy breath formed little clouds as they laughed. 

They stood before each other, so close to home but not wanting the moment to end. Hands still clasped, chests rising and falling rapidly, faces pink from running and being painfully aware of where they both stood. Aziraphale looked up and smiled, his round face glowing with so much happiness it was infectious. Letting go of Crowley's hand, he reached out and gently removed the demon's glasses from their face. Golden eyes shone from behind them, fixed on the angel's sweet face. Aziraphale wiped them on the inside of his coat, but it was so wet it didn't do much to dry them. They had rested, but their hearts both beat rapidly still. The air was filled with a nervous silence, and the demon begged in his mind for Aziraphale to break it. He did, smiling fondly as he recalled a distant memory. 

"I remember our first time, getting caught in the rain like this."

"That was a long time ago, angel. The first rain too, I believe." 

"It was, and in Eden no less. I was quite nervous back then actually..." 

Aziraphale looked down, fidgeting with the metal frames in his hands. His voice was quiet when he spoke next, soft and a little hesitant. It was almost hard to hear him over the thrum of rain. 

"I, uh, I wasn't sure if you would remember me or not." 

His smile faltered for a moment, and it stung Crowley with the thought of him being hurt. Stepping just a fraction closer, Crowley smiled. He too spoke in a lower tone, as if he was coaxing a small, frightened animal towards safety. 

"How could I forget a face like yours, angel?" 

He crooned, gently lifting Aziraphale's face to meet his gaze. A single finger under his soft chin, as the rain drowned out any other sound around them. Crowley’s hand was trembling ever so slightly, but not from the cold. 

How on earth could they forget? It was their first time sheltering from rain together, and their first time talking out of heaven. Most importantly of all, it had been the demon’s first time falling for someone. The way Aziraphale had sheltered them, the enemy, without hesitation. It had reminded them both of when Crowley had done the same. He had been there, their angel, at the beginning of it all. Witnessing the creation of vast nebulas, glowing stars and the very place in which Earth would exist. Where they would spend time together, grow together. Standing before the vast expanse of the budding universe, mind a blaze with wonder and possibility, sheltering under a white wing. Aziraphale himself had been in awe, not at the colours or size of it all, but that he had never felt so strongly about another before. If he had been looking at the stars, it was only if they were reflected in the red-haired angel’s eyes. Something about their effervescent smile and pure excitement about it all was thrilling. He couldn’t look away…

Crowley swallowed hard, trying to rid the lump in his throat. They were never much good at this sort of thing. Aziraphale looked at them expectantly, wide blue eyes staring into their soul it seemed. His hair was wet, and the dampness had made it quite curly, more so than it usually was. Brow dappled with rain drops, his nose and cheeks were the most delightful shade of pink. Crowley wished he could stop and stare at his glorious face all day. They pushed back their fringe, water trickling down the side of their face. 

"You, Aziraphale, are not someone I'd ever forget. I remembered you." 

There was a tenseness that seemed to wash away as they said this, the angels face and shoulders relaxed, and he blushed. The toes of their shoes were touching, and Aziraphale was leaning in, a hand on Crowley's damp chest. 

"I'm very glad you did, my dear. I don't know if I could bare it otherwise!"

Crowley grinned, leaning down to press his forehead against the angel's. This. This moment right here with the rain, each other and their many memories, was perfect. There was a clap of thunder and another burst of rain. The warmth of each other's breath curled around them, and then the angel and demon kissed.

Any sound of rain, any feeling of cold was melted away by the heat of each other's lips. Perhaps it was real, perhaps it was just a feeling, but the two of them began to glow. Ever so slightly, and ever so warmly. It was the same feeling Aziraphale had when they watched the red-haired angel excitedly smile and gasp at their new creations. And, it was the same feeling Crawley had felt when the Angel of the Eastern Gate, had admitted to giving away his flaming sword. It spread through their chests, along their arms and to the very tips of their fingers and toes. Even the strands of hair on their heads felt elated with the ecstasy of this light. 

Crowley gently cupped his angel's face, wiping away any residual rain. He had wanted this, wanted Aziraphale for as long as he could remember, and he was going to savor it. Arms wrapped around the demon's waist, Aziraphale pulled him in close. The feel of Crowley's body pressed against his felt so right. Like nothing else in the world, the universe, was more wonderful than this. There was a hum of satisfaction from one of them, and neither wanted to pull away. The light emanating from them was not visible to the naked eye, but it came in steady waves, and seemed to push the clouds away. As they embraced beneath the awning, the rain began to cease. Sunlight was creeping back over the city, or rather the little portion that contained the book shop and Bentley. From within the window of a near by café, two faces were pressed against the glass, excited to see them together at last. With hands lost in hair or burrowed into coats, Crowley and Aziraphale silently agreed that they had perhaps cool off a little, and make their way home. With one last, lingering kiss, they Stepped out into the sunshine, hand in hand. 

With the golden rays warming their backs, they strolled  happily across the street. Giddy and full of love, the angel and demon walked home, and a bright ribbon of colour stretched across the sky.

[depressedbagpipe]

about liam payne

let me preface this by saying i never thought i’d be writing a “statement” at the ripe age of 23. as a disclaimer, i do not condone his abusive actions and find them incredibly disgusting and immoral, but i’d also be lying if i said i don’t have conflicting emotions right now. this is me trying to explore them. 

i don’t think i’ve ever stated this before, but one direction made me the person i am today. those five lads were one of my main pillars during my adolescent life. they became my main motivation to pay attention during my english classes at school, and thanks to that i’m now building my career out of my second language. i got into fanfiction, discovering a safe space for me to destress and interact with other fans –not knowing i’d be 21 one day and writing crappy ben barnes stories that people would seemingly love, yet again motivating me to make my life-long dream of becoming an author another reality–. i logged into twitter for the first time and essentially made it my whole personality, finding a whole new world of entertainment where i could bond with anybody around the globe. but, most importantly, i met my former best friend, whom i have had the most amazing adventures with as we both grew up with the boys. 

one direction was my haven i came back to every day. i had to endure all types of comments from society, calling me crazy, obsessed, and childish. everybody made fun of directioners for being fangirls, and made fun of the guys too, as if they weren’t real musicians. i had to hide my directioner badge more than once because i knew i wouldn’t be taken seriously if i showed my true colors. experiencing those levels of misogyny at such young age would’ve been devastating had i not had them singing about how much they loved us. sure, the relationship was entirely parasocial and borderline problematic at times (remember that time some girls hacked the airport security just to see the guys through their screens?), yet, for a twelve-year-old who had no power in her own life, that was the safest net she could’ve gotten. 

their hiatus hit hard, because we weren’t ready to say goodbye yet. how do you move on from a band that has become one of your safety pins, that held you when nobody else did? deep down, i hoped they’d come back. we never got any closure, after all. one direction first cracked the day zayn left, but now, it has shattered completely. 

learning about liam’s past was tough. how could someone you admired for so long do such terrible things? i wanted to find solace in the fact that he was no longer the person he shared the stage with harry, louis, niall and zayn. i really wanted to separate the art from the artist, but i couldn’t. i even resented being a fan and supporting such a person in the past, but now, he’s officially gone. his victims won’t get any closure, and the culprits of leading such a young person towards his own hell won’t get justice either. it just isn’t fair.

grief is a funny thing, though. we’re all mourning someone he wasn’t for almost a decade. we’re grieving our childhoods and adolescence. we weep, because what once was, won’t be anymore. we lament the man he became, and all the pain he caused. yet all i can think about now is that 11-year-old who listened to ‘what makes you beautiful’ for the first time. that little girl who fought in the trenches to be heard and respected, and was instead ridiculed and shamed. she’s the one grieving. and i don’t know what to do anymore to protect her, and i wish i could.

[protozoass]

Writing this here because I don't know where else to say it.

Nothing, and I mean NOTHING!!! On god's green earth could have prepared me for a graduate science degree. It's like being in the trenches. So much so that I often sign off my emails with "in the trenches".

It's just...soul sucking. You don't have time to do anything but study. There are always assignments due. There's always an exam coming up. There's always a paper that needs to be written.

And you may be thinking "well how is this different than undergrad?" IT IS.

IT IS DIFFERENT!!!

In undergrad, especially for biology-focused stuff, you just memorize. It's fairly easy (albeit stressful) to crank shit out in the final 24 hours before an assignment is due. In graduate school, not only are they looking for a higher quality of work, they're also teaching you how to think a certain way. You can't just memorize thinking habits. It takes times to carve out those pathways.

I am fighting for my life for B's. I just took a quiz in epidemiology and did so badly on it my professor is letting me take it again. Humbling.

There are a few redeeming qualities. The professors are kind. I've made some wonderful friends. I'm living on my own again. I get to explore a new city.

I truly think the most accurate way to describe grad school is that line from A Tale of Two Cities: "it was the best of times, it was the worst of times"

[genderjourneyjournal]

Gender Journal Day #114

Date 12/14/24

This is a personal journal about my gender journey my therapist recommended I make. Mostly about gender stuff but also anything else. Feel free to keep reading but keep in mind it’s going to be my unfiltered, personal thoughts.

It’s been a while. I’ve just been deep in the trenches with end of semester work. So I’ve been very tired and haven’t had much time to focus on myself.

I had a talk with a friend last night. I wanted to open up about how scary it is being trans right now. We got into a fight over how they talked about men. They have very valid reasons to hate and be afraid of men. Pretty much all women do. I just didn’t like the way she spoke about it. I know how it sounds but I just wanted to point out that she needs to recognize not all men are like that. The way she speaks can be very “I hate men, they’re terrible” and I was trying to explain how shitty men have already demonized women who talk like that as nothing but “whiny feminists who will complain about anything and just want to hate on men”. And this is bad because it teaches guys not to take women seriously. So if you want men to change you can’t blanketly demonize masculinity.

I understand why she feels like she can’t trust any man she meets or is even in the vicinity of a man. I feel bad because I really don’t want to invalidate some of the very hard things she’s had to live with. She’s one of my best friends. I think it just struck a nerve because she said something that rang bells in my head as sounding kind of TERF-y and I guess I got defensive. But I also didn’t want to lose a friend to those kinds of insidious ideas that prey on people’s vulnerabilities and fears. A trans masc friend of mine also told me she said that when she’s talking about men she wasn’t referring to him, which made me feel defensive of my friend even though he didn’t ask me too.

I just hope I didn’t hurt her feelings. Even if I didn’t get my point across.

Anyway, my point. Last night we were texting, and I wanted to open up to her about how scary it’s been. I try to be strong for her because she gets really anxious and is really upset with the political climate in the USA right now. I want to try to be a pillar for her and seem strong so she has someone to rely on as a friend. But last night I wanted to let her understand how it’s actually been for me. I wanted to let her know that it’s been scary and frustrating for me.

If I were to try and go out and experiment with my gender presentation like I want to, then I have to kind of be afraid of everyone. I wanted her to understand that the way she feels about men is how I’d have to approach literally every other person because trans people are kind of political enemy no 1 in the USA right now. And it sucks because my therapist is kind of right in that I’m going to need to actually try something in order to figure out my gender at this point. Like, even if I end up physically fine, how long will it be before I can feel safe trying for a different gender presentation? Because it’s going to be a long time before I get it perfect, not that I’m even sure how I want to present yet. Like, am I going to have to explain to my kids that I can’t pick them up from school because I needed to use a public bathroom once and got listed as a sex offender? I can’t afford to fail at gender presentation but that also means I can’t experiment. At least not in places that aren’t explicitly queer.

What hurts even more about it is that I’ve just started to get a taste of what I could have, too. I’ve dipped my toe in enough that I’ve seen what it could be. For so long it’s felt like I was living with like, a layer of tv static between me and the rest of the world. Just, it rarely felt like anything was real. But when I have a chance to experiment with feminine stuff, it feels like that veil of static is lifted for a little bit. I get to actually feel alive again. But before I can even figure out my gender identity and how I might want to pursue transition, trans people become the biggest political scapegoat. So now, I have to choose between putting myself in danger every time I leave the house, or continue feeling like I’m not alive for the next 4 years and hope that things aren’t too bad by then. But at the same time, by then I’ll be almost 30. I’d like to enjoy at least a bit of my youth. I’d like to not spend only the last 60% of my life actually feeling like I’m alive. I want to start now.

Unfortunately, I’m not sure my friend understood how I felt. It was late. And I didn’t explain it as passionately as I did here. But maybe that’s what I deserve for being so insensitive to her feelings.

It’s just frustrating. I finally know that I can feel like I’m alive again but can’t pursue that for years. Like, I don’t even have the comfort of denial anymore. Now I am VERY aware of how not okay I’ve been feeling because I felt how much better it’s possible to feel just by wearing a dress!

On the upside at least my new anxiety meds are finally kicking in I think. Despite how busy and behind I am with school stuff I’m not stressing out as bad as I normally do. I thought originally I just passed the point of being so tired and busy that I don’t even have the spare energy to worry or get upset at setbacks anymore, but I do think I generally feel calmer. Do kinda feel tired though. Not sure if that’s the meds or a lack of sleep.

[starseedfxofficial]

Rarely Discussed Moving Average Tactics for EURUSD Dominance Let me share a little story from the trenches of Forex trading. Imagine you’re at a party, and the market is the dance floor. Some traders think they can slow dance with a long-term trend, while others are ready to breakdance to every tick of the EURUSD. Guess what? They’re both wrong—because no one’s keeping up with the rhythm of Moving Averages quite like they could. The secret lies in knowing which type of average is asking for a waltz, and which one just wants to boogie for a few minutes. Welcome to the quirky world of Moving Averages, where patience meets impulse, and EURUSD is your dance partner. Advanced Strategies: Moving Averages—More Than Just Lines Alright, this isn’t just another Moving Average breakdown where I teach you what an SMA or EMA is. You already know that. Instead, I’m about to hand you a few insider secrets that separate the average Joe from the trading Jedi. 1. Long-Term Averages: Spotting the Big Movers Most traders stick with the good ol’ 200-day MA for long-term trends—but here’s the twist: Why not use the 195-Day Exponential Moving Average? Why, you ask? Because almost everyone’s staring at the 200-day, like it’s the gatekeeper of the market’s mood. By shifting to the 195-day EMA, you’re one step ahead. It’s like sneaking into the theater five minutes before the crowd gets in and grabbing the best seat. You catch trends just before the laggy MAs wake up—and trust me, catching that one extra movement can make a lot of difference. 2. The Magic Crossover Nobody Talks About Sure, everyone loves the golden cross (when the 50-day MA crosses above the 200-day MA), but we’re not here for the common stuff—we’re here for the ninja tactics. The 34 EMA crossing the 89 EMA is my under-the-radar golden cross. Why these numbers? They come from the Fibonacci sequence, and honestly, there's something oddly magical about applying the Fibonacci numbers to trading. Traders ignore this crossover because it isn’t the classic textbook example. But sometimes, going off-script is exactly what the market demands. 3. The 5 & 21 EMA Divergence Play Let’s switch gears to the short-term—because, believe me, the EURUSD knows how to party for just a few hours, and it’s up to you to know when to join and when to call it a night. My favorite trick is watching the 5 EMA and 21 EMA on a 4-hour chart. When the gap between these two EMAs starts widening faster than my nephew’s appetite at an all-you-can-eat buffet, it signals increased momentum—but not for long. As soon as they begin closing in again, that’s when the music’s about to fade. Perfect for scalpers wanting to squeeze those quick pips. Unconventional Approaches and Humor It’s wild to think that people are following these Moving Averages like they’re ancient scrolls. The truth is, the market changes, and so do the players. We’re in a game of chess, not checkers, and if you stick to predictable moves, guess what? You’ll be eating someone else’s dust. Just last week, I found myself laughing—yes, laughing—because the EURUSD kept bouncing between the 13 and 21 EMA like it had nowhere better to be. I thought, “Is this some kind of Forex version of ping pong?” So instead of watching in frustration, I made a quick play between these levels. Sometimes, humor helps you see opportunities, where frustration blinds you. Counterintuitive Wisdom: Don't Blindly Follow the Trend Now, I know you’ve heard it before—the trend is your friend. And yeah, it’s nice to be on the good side of trends. But what about those times when the trend suddenly becomes your clingy, annoying roommate? The one that’s always there, demanding more attention than you’re willing to give? This is where contrarian moving average strategies come into play. When I see the price hovering just above the 50 EMA and retail traders start piling in like it’s a Black Friday sale, that’s my cue to be cautious. Sometimes the trend needs to breathe, and a quick fakeout drop below the 50 EMA is just the shake-out that smarter traders wait for before entering. Hidden Opportunities with Moving Averages One of my absolute favorite hidden gems is using a triple EMA combination to identify false breakouts. Here’s the play: Use the 13 EMA, 50 EMA, and 100 EMA on the hourly chart. If EURUSD is breaking out above the 13 EMA, but it hasn’t yet crossed the 50 EMA, this often signals an indecisive move—a head fake. Wait for the confirmation above the 50 EMA and even better, see how the 100 EMA reacts. It’s a simple method that’s saved me from plenty of false breakout traps that left other traders wondering what went wrong. Data-Driven Ninja Tactics Did you know that EURUSD is statistically more likely to respect the 55 EMA on a 1-hour chart during periods of high volatility? According to recent studies (you know, those nerdy research papers from the Bank of International Settlements that traders like us don’t always read), this EMA often serves as a mean-reverting level during volatile sessions. Next time you’re trading the European or New York overlap, watch how EURUSD respects this moving average like it’s a VIP rope at an exclusive club. Practical Tips for Applying These Strategies - Don’t overcomplicate it: Start by plotting the 5, 13, 34, 50, 89, and 195 EMAs on your chart. You don’t need to use all of them every time—think of it like a toolbox. Pick the right tool for the job. - Be mindful of market sessions: Certain EMAs work best during specific sessions. The 34 EMA, for instance, has worked wonders for me during the Asian session—probably because fewer traders are looking at it. - Confirmation is key: The market loves to trick us. Don’t act on a single crossover alone. Combine it with a candlestick pattern or even volume indicators to confirm that the market is genuinely grooving to your beat. Conclusion: Stay Adaptive, Stay Ahead The dance of the Moving Averages isn’t something static—it evolves, shifts, and sometimes, just plain fakes you out. But that’s what makes it thrilling, right? It’s not just about knowing where the average price is; it’s about understanding the psyche of the market participants behind those price levels. Every Moving Average is like a piece of the market’s diary—a peek into what the collective mind thinks is a fair price. So next time you find yourself watching those moving averages, remember, it’s all about reading between the lines—and sometimes, just sometimes, it’s about making your own music instead of dancing to someone else’s tune. —————– Image Credits: Cover image at the top is AI-generated Read the full article

[sailor-hufflepuff]

Look, I have a fairly conservative background. I LOVE me a bucolic “3 kids and a picket fence” ending for my heroines. I will argue day and night for why an ordinary life is the best thing there is. Babies Ever After, yes please.

And I HATED Alina’s ending. To the point where I put down the book, said “WTF?” and immediately started writing a time travel fic where she makes completely different choices.

It’s pretty obvious what LB was TRYING to do: she was trying to give Alina an ending like Frodo, or Katniss, where the world is saved but the hero never fully recovers. Unfortunately the three heroes have completely different stories.

Firstly, Frodo is the story of an ordinary person who ends up having to save the world. He has no special abilities, and no desire for great things at all. The Ring is never a temptation for him the way it is for others: he never dreams of ruling the world. Instead, the destruction of the Ring lifts a burden he never wanted, never enjoyed, never would have chosen in a million years. It is a parasitic force, not a part of him in any way, completely outside of what makes him up as a person.

Second, it WORKS. With the Ring gone Sauron is destroyed, and while there’s still some minor clean up to do (the scouring of the shire), the world is saved, the great evil is gone, and all of his friends and loved ones are able to go on to live happy, fulfilling lives.

His ending is a treaty on PTSD, written by a soldier forced into WWI, who lost all of his friends in the trenches and came home to a changed England. It’s about finding the good in the world, and that even after everything his faith gives him hope for true peace in the next life (Frodo going to Valinor, JRR going to Catholic heaven). Because that’s reality; war sucks, and it marks you forever, and some people never heal.

Next we have Katniss. Again, she’s presented as a totally ordinary girl who is pulled into a Savior role against her will.

However, like Frodo, Katniss never once enjoys the power that she’s (supposedly) given. There are a few times she leans into the Mockingjay role, but it’s never for the pleasure of the role itself, only to get something she wants (survival, help for Peeta). Also, it’s made obvious over and over and OVER that Katniss has no real power - she’s a figurehead and a pawn being manipulated by forces outside of her control, to prop up their own agenda. The reader is aware of this. Katniss is aware of this. No one is ACTUALLY giving any real political power to the teenage girl from the boonies.

Second, like Katniss has removed BOTH of the powers that were playing with her. Snow and Coin are both dead, and Panem is starting again from scratch, in a society already familiar with the concept of democracy (even if there hasn’t been a true one for a while). She has performed her role as the Girl on Fire and burned the old world down, ready for a new one to rise from the ashes.

Finally, Katniss DOES lose what she held most dear. Every action, from the very beginning of the first book, has been to save her sister. Yes, she gains friends, yes she loves Peeta, yes she develops some political opinions, but her priority is first, last and always, her sisters well being. And Prim dies. Destroying Katniss’ entire world. It is only the things she has gained through her journey - her friends, her love for Peeta, her confidence in a better future - that she is able to find happiness.

Contrast Alina, who - after an admittedly rough start where she denies everything - grows to LOVE her power. She feels guilty for it, yes, but it is still stated, over and over, how much she values this thing that is a part of her, that lets her break free from the life she had lived before. She takes pleasure in being given a seat at the table, at making choices she believes will have a real effect on the world. (Ignore that those choices are horrible and accomplish nothing, she THINKS she’s revolutionary). This is a girl who had nothing, is now given immense power, and WANTS MORE, as evidence of her drive to gain all three amplifiers. Her main issue with the Darkling? That he lied to her and wanted to use her for his own goals instead of letting HER decide what to do. It’s the same reason she turns down Nikolai - she doesn’t want to be used as a pawn to prop someone else up, she wants to stand on her own. (At least when Mal isn’t in the room.)

Secondly, other than the destruction of the Fold, the world is exactly as terrible (and arguably WORSE) than it was before Alina showed up. They are still at war with Fjerda and Shu Han. The Lantsovs dynasty still rules. The Grisha are still second class citizens. Only now they have no protector, the military has lost its greatest weapon, and the nice guy on the throne is a bastard with only a tenuous hold on the court. Alina flitting away to the countryside occurs in the hour of her country’s greatest need.

And, of course, the only thing Alina loses that she cares about is her power. She had no real attachment to anyone that died (save perhaps Baghra and the Darkling). She doesn’t mourn her dead loved ones, companions who appeared in the narrative and then died only chapters later with no chance to grow attached to them. She does not mourn the innocence of a lost happy childhood. She mourns her power. It, and Mal, are the only two things she is ever shown as WANTING, and it’s pretty explicitly shown that she can only have one or the other: in gaining her power, she loses Mal. In losing her power, she gains Mal.

But WHY is it this way? Why can’t she have both? Because Mal is shown, from the very moment, to hate her power. Partly due to prejudice against Grisha, partly because he despises not being in the spotlight, but mostly because it gives her OPTIONS that aren’t him. With her power, she is Sol Koroleva, desired by Generals and Royalty. Without her power, she is Sticks, trailing after her only friend in the world for crumbs of affection.

Just the way he likes it.

THAT is why this ending is so unsatisfying. Had Alina been shown to hate her power, had it been portrayed as a painful, distasteful burden, then perhaps we would enjoy her being free of it. Had Alina lost Mal, instead of his magical resurrection, it would have felt like making a true sacrifice to save the world. Had Mal been supportive of her, shown her that he loved her regardless of whether she was an orphan or a queen, then her marriage to him might have felt like a light in the darkness, rather than an exile. Had Ravka been safe, then it wouldn’t feel like Alina was just saying “screw everyone but me and Mal” (again).

It is the text itself that makes Alina’s ending tragic, not the idea of an ordinary life and ordinary love.

I don't understand WHY Bardugo wrote Alina's ending the way she did. Did she think it would make for a bittersweet, satisfactory ending? (It did not.) Did she think it would be sharp and realistic? (It unfortunately was a bit.) Did she think she'd be subverting expectations?? Did she love Mal so much she went insane?? I just don't get it. I just don't get it. If by the end of the series she forgot to add in more love interest for Alina (because she obviously didn't want to consider the other two despite being fascinated with Aleksander) she could just have. Let poor Alina be alone. Why condemn her to such a fate? I think everyone I've talked about this has unanimously agreed they'd cease to exist if they were in her place. It's so. So strange

It’s all a consequence of the underlying conservatism and misogyny of the series. This is best illustrated through the fact that even in Alina’s “happily ever after” she is still regarded as a weird outsider while Mal is beloved by their new community. It isolates Alina in a way that the Darkling never could, it’s representative of Alina’s permanent dependence on Mal as a consequence of their marriage. Mal is allowed to have a life outside of his marriage, while Alina has to depend on him for emotional connection. She can only find fulfillment in her husband while Mal is afforded the freedom (and means) to seek fulfillment from other places.

What I imagine Bardugo thought, was that it would be heartwarming and pleasant for the “boy and the girl” to return to simplicity and live happily ever after. Hence the line: “They had an ordinary life, full of ordinary things—if love can ever be called that.” In isolation, it’s certainly a sweet sentiment that one might smile at in a different story. However, in this story, it’s a clear attempt to romanticize the dire (and downright depressing) circumstances of Alina’s so-called “happily ever after”. It looks like a happily ever after, but readers with a critical eye can see it for what it truly is. They are able to see the way Alina is disempowered at nearly every level, that she had been relegated to this role because she dared to want more out of life.

This gestures towards the fundamental reason why Malina is far more disturbing than the likes of Darklina. It’s disturbing because it reflects the ways women are pushed to settle down and sacrifice themselves for their man and glorifies that sacrifice as the healthy alternative to “greed”. Sure, the Darkling is villainous, but his actions are so beyond the normal scope of everyday relationships that they fail to land the same impact as Mal’s mundane assholery. Alina is considered greedy for wanting to excercise her power and influence for a noble cause, but somehow Mal isn’t greedy for wanting Alina’s full undivided attention despite her many other responsibilities? The narrative validates his unreasonable requests by presenting the ending as something wholesome and heartwarming. Mal’s selfishness and greed is validated by the text because it is societally acceptable and encouraged men to have those traits. He has to be the more powerful one in the relationship for this traditional happy ending to work.

Bardugo condemned Alina to a depressing fate because she was so fixated on the image of a fairy tale happily ever after that she ignored how Alina would be impacted by it. I think this reveals Bardugo’s strange affection for Mal, but it also shows how she failed to see how the realistic mundanity of Malina would not work in her favour. Because…yeah it’s realistic all right, realistically misogynistic that is.

[ramp-it-up]

It Takes Two

Pairing: Soft Dark!Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings:  18+, Minors DNI. Curate your own experience. Cursing, drinking, cheating, breakups, rehab, recovery, deception, lies, celibacy, manipulation, wedding planning, semi-public explicit, rough, sex, oral sex (m receiving), degradation kink, breeding kink, choking, dubiuous con (b/c of deception). Darkish! Scott Evans. This is not proofread!

A/N: @lovebittenbyevans gave me a great idea about still dealing with Chris when commenting on The One.  I thought that the Chris in that fic could really go left and get pretty Dark and dirty. And then.... 

Anonymous asked:

Imagine Chris cheating on Y/N …

That made me think up this fic. It is a sequel to The One. I hope you like it!

-----

You left him.

You flew to Montreal to surprise him on set, trench coat and lingerie and everything, and when you opened the door to his trailer, you saw Heidi on her knees giving Chris a blowjob.

You cussed him out, threw the ring back in his face and turned around and left. 

You blocked his number, moved out of his house and cut off all contact.  You were done.

The audacity of Chris being indignant about your warnings about Heidi when he was boning her all along.

You loved Scott, but you had to cut him off too after he tried to explain that Chris was drunk when you found him, and was going to rehab to deal with his issues. 

 It was classic celebrity bullshit and you didn’t have time for it.

You decided to center yourself, and swear off all relationships and sex. You wanted to purge your mind of all that weighed you down. 

You concluded that love, sex, and Chris Evans made you feel heavy as fuck. 

You moved to New York City. It was far enough away from Chris and your folks in Houston to give you some peace. 

You could still run your business and even think about a storefront.  It was the perfect location to live your best life, eat healthy, exercise, socialize and network. 

You fell in love with yourself, and you didn’t think much about Christopher Robert Evans at all.

Only every time you went on IG or Twitter, even though you blocked him and his hashtags.  And every time you went to Target, because his fucking movies and merchandise were everywhere. 

But you were cool, because you were doing you. You weren’t looking for love.

Of course, that’s when it found you.

Six months after you left Boston, you were at a natural beauty products expo in Brooklyn hawking your wares.  

Your business had taken off, with almost a half million dollars in sales, and you were being interviewed by a major news outlet of color when one of the correspondents caught your eye. 

You flirted, exchanged numbers and ended up going on a date. In another three months you were engaged to him.  

Kevin Watts made you feel safe, protected and loved. And he wasn’t just after sex. He was well off, and secure in himself and you.  It just felt right. 

When Kevin proposed, it was just you and him at your favorite restaurant. So romantic. 

Not like the rowdy family 4th of July party at which Chris asked you to marry him last year, in front of both your parents.

The laughter and the joy was just a little much. 

This was perfect. You didn’t miss Chris at all. You set about planning your wedding with a profound sense of peace and safety.  

You and Kevin were meant to be.

----

Chris was nothing without you.

Nothing but an award winning actor and producer, a multi-millionaire and founder of a major organization dedicated to bringing opposing political viewpoints together. 

All of that was cool, and it kept him going, but when he lost you, he lost his motivation.

Chris didn’t take any more roles after the sequel with Heidi, and he dumped her post haste. He did enter rehab and realized that he depended way too much on alcohol to dull his emotions. 

He got drunk off his ass when he was away from you because he missed you so much, and that led to him letting Heidi think that she could have him.

She’d had him physically, but never his heart. Or his mind. You owned those.

Chris followed your business closely, and was proud of your success. 

Of course he followed your social media on burner accounts and saw that you were doing well. 

You looked like you enjoyed being single and seemed healthy and happy.

He couldn’t ask for anything more for you.

Except to be his again. 

Chris was just biding his time for your reunion, deciding to give you a year before he made his move. 

Now he felt every emotion, and he knew that you must still love him too.

You just needed to realize that your life would be even better with him back in it.

The year apart would be just punishment for what he’d done to you, and when you came back together, it would be better than before.

Everyone speculated on his bachelorhood, wondering if he would settle down, speculating and gossiping about who he was with, but he just played coy and kept quiet.

No one would know that he was yours and yours alone, and that you were still his.  

You just didn’t know it.

But you weren’t going along with the plan that you didn’t know about. 

About seven months into his self-imposed purgatory, a complication started popping up on Chris’s feed. 

Kevin. 

And a couple of months after that, a post of a proposal, in a restaurant.

The asshole probably didn’t even ask or involve your folks.  Chris was in a rage for a week. 

He almost started drinking again, but as he got ready to drive to the liquor store, Kevin’s face flashed on his screen doing a report on the election.

Instead of making him even more angry, he smiled, elated at the thought that came to him.

Chris had a new plan, and it was going to be even better than before.

-----

The last three months had been a whirlwind, and you never thought it would turn out this way.  

You were planning your wedding with your mother, discussing the seating at the reception, and you deciding where Chris Evans and his date would sit.

What a time to be alive.

Your mother only let it slip a couple of times that you should be marrying Chris, but for the most part, she kept it cute.

You explained to her that everything was squashed between you and Chris, and that he and Kevin had a great relationship, were friends, even.  

They’d bonded over politics when Kevin interviewed him, and became buds before Chris even realized that you and he were together.

Kevin knew, but he wasn’t the jealous type, and he didn’t want to make things awkward. Surprisingly, Kevin insisted that he be at the wedding. 

You thought about it and decided it would be the ultimate closure for Chris to watch you marry someone else. 

You were pleasantly surprised at Chris. He was handling this very well. He never tried to contact you, and according to Kevin, never even mentioned you. That was growth. 

Maybe you too could be friends. 

You felt good about it. So much so that you unblocked him and started a dialogue.

-----

Hi.

Chris saw your number come across his apple watch and he practically did a dance. It was 9:24 pm.  He picked up his phone and stared at the word, forcing himself to wait and not respond.  He went to work out.

47 minutes later, he responded.

Hello?

This time, he sat and waited for your response, which came 7 minutes later. 

I just wanted to say, I appreciate the way you're handling this.

Chris bit his lip, imagining you sitting there, thinking of what to say and staring down at your phone.

I’m sorry, I don't know who this is. You may have reached a wrong number?

He grinned at the play. 

----- 

Your heart dropped. Did he no longer have your contact?  

Why would he do that?

You don’t know why you felt some kinda way; you’d blocked him. 

Maybe he had changed his number and this was no longer his. Your heart was beating fast when you texted back.

Is this Chris?  This is Y/N.  I was just texting about Kevin Watts.

You anxiously watched the thought bubbles on imessage.

----

Even though you’d texted back almost immediately, Chris kept you hanging for just a couple of minutes. His dick was hard at the thought of communicating with you. 

Fuck, you were such an aphrodesiac.

Oh shit! Y/N I’m sorry.  I got a new phone.. You know how it is…

He knew you wouldn’t believe that. That’s why he said it.

You just stared at the phone. That was bullshit. You can easily port your contacts into a new phone.  You just never believed that Chris would really move on.  And you didn’t know why. 

You had.

You took a deep breath and continued.

Lol, No worries!  Just wanna say thank you for being cool with my Boo. I’m gonna turn in now. Check you later.

You tried to keep it light.

Chris ignored the ‘my Boo’ comment and focused on the thought of you in bed. 

You usually slept in a tank top or t-shirt and panties, and the top would invariably come off because you got hot. 

And then things would invariably get hotter if he was in bed with you….

Cool! Sweet dreams. Check you later. 😉

Chris made sure to exit your message thread and come back so that you wouldn’t see the thought bubbles that he saw when you kept staring at the text.

You  were lost in the times that Chris always used to say that to you, and when he whispered “Sweet Dreams” in your ear when he was far away, you always had wet dreams about him. 

And that wink. 

How could a fucking yellow emoji turn you the fuck on?

You reached for your bullet vibrator as you continued to stare at the interaction.

Chis had already started stroking himself when you told him you were going to bed. 

Knowing that you were thinking exactly what he wanted you to got him close, and he didn’t even have to pull up your old videos to get off. 

Not tonight.

-----

Over the next few weeks. you’d texted a few times, Chris ‘made amends’ and you accepted his apology. 

Then, you started texting more regularly, mainly joking around about sports, your Celtics/Rockets rivalry ever raging. 

From your perspective, Chris was always appropriate and respected your relationship with Kevin.  You were glad because you’d missed your friendship with him.

You felt giddy that your life was working out so well, and you traveled to your weekend getaway in the mountains for your bridal shower with a light heart.

Chris attended Kevin’s bachelor festivities with only a week to go until the wedding.

——

From Chris’s perspective, things were working out better than he’d hoped. 

Scoring an invite to the wedding was more than he’d imagined, and Kevin inviting him out to his Bachelor party was just icing on the cake.  

Maybe he could make Kevin slip up enough so that you would dump him before the wedding. Chris was hopeful.

If not, Plan B was the nuclear option. 

-------

Kevin was following the stripper’s ass like a puppy. He was lit on booze and pills (that Chris provided) and his guard was down.

Kevin considered Chris a friend. 

Chris just wanted to keep Kevin close because he was the enemy.

They were talking about you.

“She’s so fucking innocent. A sweeter angel there never was. I’ll have to teach her how to fuck.”

Chris almost choked on his water.

“I'm sorry. What now?”

Kevin just barreled on, ignoring the question.

“That's how I know I need to wife her.” He was talking to Chris, but still staring at the stripper.

“She would never chase the D. Hell, she won’t even touch mine. You know, her being celibate and all.”

Chris raised his eyebrow and smiled, which Kevin never noticed. Chris shook his head at your antics.  His little beautiful love.

“That’s why I was never pressed that you are her ex. I mean, I’m impressed you were with her as long as you were.”  

Chris just smiled and nodded, curious as to where this was leading.

“A man like you don’t have to put up with that. You must have punani lined up for days, bro.”

Chris’s heart lept. This dullard did not have access to your pussy. HIS pussy.  Never has.

Chris could fuck a lot of people a million ways from Sunday with one text. Except for you. And you were all that mattered. 

“I don’t know about all that.” Chris put on his best, ‘aw shucks’ act.

Chris was over the moon. You were still his. In every way.

Kevin kept tipping the stripper and was trying to call her over. He asked her about a private lap dance.  Chris’s eyes lit up. This asshole was making it too easy.

The stripper nodded and went back to finish up her set.  Chris walked over to the bar.

“Aye!” Chris summoned tha bartender over. 

“What can I get you, Sir.” 

“I don’t need a drink.  I wanna take care of my friend over there. He’s gonna have a lap dance with Star. It’s his bachelor party.  I need it to be extra special.”  

Chris started peeling off hundreds so the barkeep could see. 

“And I need him to have some keepsakes, so he’ll remember it always.” 

More hundreds came off. The bartender’s eyes got bigger and bigger. “That’s no problem.”

Chris flashed his famous smile.  

“Great, let me tell you where to send them. Wanna make them a wedding present.” He wrote down an address on a napkin. 

He was now on Plan C. And it was perfect.

------

A week later and the rehearsal at the church was more fun than you thought it would be.  You weren’t allowed to participate, just watch, as the result of an old wives tale.

The church secretary found you in the pews. She handed you a manila envelope.

“This was mailed here yesterday, probably an invoice of something for the wedding, I put it aside for you, sweetie.”

You smiled back at her and tucked it into your purse, not wanting to distract yourself with more wedding bills. 

Later, when you and Kevin were in the back of the car to the restaurant for the Rehearsal Dinner, you pulled it out and opened it. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“What the ENTIRE FUCK KEVIN!”  

You threw the pictures of him fucking a stripper in his face, startling him out of staring at his phone.

He picked one up, his mouth dropped open and started talking. 

“Look, Baby, Baby! I can explain!...”

“DO NOT FUCKING LIE TO ME KEVIN!  WE HAVE OVER 300 PEOPLE HERE FOR OUR WEDDING TOMORROW MORNING.” 

Kevin was on his knees in the back of the suburban. 

“Listen to me.. Listen.  I’m a man. I have needs…”

“Kevin, I swear to god….”

“Okay, okay… I admit it…”

You listened to him and your heart went silent.  You couldn’t even absorb what he said.

When you pulled up to the restaurant, you straightened your dress and looked at him coolly.

“I am NOT going to deal with this tonight. Tonight was supposed to be a fun celebration of our wedding. I will decide later if it's still going to happen.”

Kevin was terrified.

“Right now, you and I will go into this place, greet our friends arm in arm and pretend that you are not a fucking narcissitic asshole who just ripped my heart to shreds. Got it?”

“Yes, but I-”

“Do NOT speak to me unless I speak to you first. Or it's automatically off.”

Kevin just nodded and cleared his throat.

You raised your chin and said, “Let’s go.”

-----

Two hours later, dinner was over, and you were lit on your way to TURNT.

Chris observed you, from the moment you entered holding hands with Kevin to the second you dropped his hand in disgust, to the way you held yourself away from him at dinner, but then put on a sweet face when everyone spoke, to Kevin, who was an absolute mess.

He figured you got the pictures. He suppressed the glee that was coursing through him.

But he couldn’t figure out why you were still going on with the charade.

Chris didn’t make a beeline for you like he wanted to, he just let the natural flow of the party lead you to him.  He was talking to your cousin when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around.

“Hey you.”  

You cocked your head at him in that way and looked up at him, your smile brightening your face.  Damn, he had to plant his feet. You smiling at him like that made him feel faint.

You both heard your cousin say something, but you didn’t pay attention, caught up in your own orbit.

“Hey.”  

Chris crossed his arms, and you swore that he was recalling the time when you told him your forearms made you horny. Fuck. Chris made you wet and you were fresh out of fucks tonight.

“So, I can’t have a hug?”  

Chris shook his head at your line and opened his arms to embrace you, keeping a respectable pressure and distance until you hugged him tight and pressed close.  

He couldn’t help but pick you up, but he put you down immediately, cleared his throat and backed up, looking uncomfortable.

That wouldn’t do. You wanted more of his scent, his warmth, his HIM. You pouted unconsciously in your buzzed state.

Chris’s cock stirred.  That fucking mouth had haunted his dreams for almost a year. He was pleased that you were flirting, but he had to work the plan.  Couldn’t go too fast.

“You look… great.  I can’t wait to see you tomorrow in your wedding dress. You will be a beautiful bride.”  

Chris broke his voice in just the right place to convey a wistfulness, making you think that he thought he lost you.

You felt bad.  Chris was so sweet.  You thought about him and you thought about Kevin. 

What was the difference between what Chris did and what Kevin did?  

And who did you have more chemistry with? Chris.  

Why were you even marrying Kevin?

You looked over at him looking at you and Chris like a lost dog.

You had no idea why you were marrying him.

“You look… Like Chris fucking Evans.” You two laughed.  

“I bet you’re fighting them off with a stick.”  You sideyed him.

Chris reveled in your interest in his sex life.

“Well, you know. After rehab, I’ve laid off the... physical part of my life. It only brought chaos, you know. I’m trying to be more… zen. Haven’t really had… that  for the better part of a year.”

He watched your eyes get big.  

“Word?”  You smirked. “So you…”

Chris held up his hand.  The one you knew he jacked off with.  You grabbed it and started drawing on his palm.  Chis pulled it back and cleared his throat again. 

You pouted again. Him being hard to get made you wet.

And Chris knew that.

“So… you ready to marry the love of your life?”

 Chris’s sea blues looked you deep into your cocoa browns. You were transported back in time.

“Yes.” 

 Then you snapped out of it.  

“I mean… the church is set up, the dress is bought, everyone’s here. I guess so.”

Chris laughed as if you were telling a joke.  

“I miss your sense of humor.”

You all made small talk and you caught up a little before you asked what you wanted to know.

“So what are you up to tonight?”

Chris looked at his watch.

“I’m actually about to go to my condo an turn in. I get up early to work out.” He felt your eyes sweep up and down his body, and he flexed even though he was fully dressed. It was true. Working out was a regimen. He wanted you drooling for him. 

“It’s the Marvel condo in Brooklyn?”

You nodded, remembering good times.

“So you have a car picking you up?”  Your mind was whirring.

“I actually have a rental.” 

You gulped your drink down, not daring to look in his eyes. Now, not only was your pussy wet, your nipples were hard as hell. 

“It’s in the parking garage down the block.”

“Well, I need to clear my head. I’ll walk you there, and you can drop me back?”

Chris looked down at your cute face, and then around the room, spotted Kevin and gave him a nod.

“You sure that’s a good idea?”  

You looked at Kevin, too.  You wanted to stick your tongue out, but you just took Chris by the arm and headed toward the door.

“I’m a big girl. Nobody owns me.” 

You looked up into Chris’s eyes and instantly regretted that statement. You played it off and pulled him through the door.

You didn’t talk at all the entire way, both of your heads deep in the clouds of you and him.  The chemistry was crackling the air between you.

You held on to his arm, and he let you, reveling in your touch.

When you reached the parking garage, Chris pressed the button with his knuckle and you got in, headed for the top deck.

You just stared at each other, both thinking the same thing. Chris chuckled.

“You’re dangerous, night before your wedding, you probably have cold feet, I’m here. Maybe you want to be sure that you’re sure…”

You cocked your head. “Who said I wanted to fuck you, Chris Evans?”

Chris cocked his head too, mirroring you.  “Who said ‘fuck?’ I was thinking you wanted to talk.”

He smirked and you scowled as the door opened.

Chris left you in the elevator stewing as he walked over to the black Tesla he’d rented. There was no other car on the deck.

You scoffed, and followed him out.

He was about to walk around to the driver's side door when you grabbed his arm before he made it. He stopped directly in front of the car.

“Do you mean to tell me that you don’t want me?”  You were hot, in more ways than one.

Chris leaned back against the hood.

“That’s not what we’re talking about, y/n. You’re getting married tomorrow. To someone else.”

You smiled and reached up, fingers grazing his neck and playing with the hair at his nape. You ran your fingers through his beard.  Kevin’s couldn’t compare.

“That’s tomorrow. Tonight I’m single as fuck.” 

You stood on your tip toes and brushed your lips against his, reveling in the moan that came from his throat.

Chris fought to control his urge and continued with his act. His fingers tightened around your waist and you thought this was it.  He turned you around in front of the car and then let you go, stepping back to pace back and forth.

“What? What is this? You’ve had almost a year. Kevin’s my friend. What do you want from me?”  

He advanced on you, and you had to remember to breathe.  He knew what you wanted.

“You. I want you, Chris.”

Chris attacked your lips with his own.  He took two seconds to savor them before he ravaged your mouth with his tongue.  You moaned and he broke from your mouth to re-discover your face, your neck, your cleavage.  He had to control himself not to rip the bodice of your blush pink chiffon dress.

He had a raging hard on, which you were feeling up, remembering how you always struggled to take him.  You wanted him to hurt you with it now.

“Give me this Chris… please…”

You were reaching into his pants, thumb caressing his wet, thick tip. He was leaking for you.

“Remember when you told me that I would meet you in a parking lot, and let you fuck me over the hood of your rental car? Even if I was with someone else?”  

You pulled your hand out and started sucking your thumb, closing your eyes at the taste of Chris after so long.  You pulled it out with a pop.  

“You were so right.”

Chris practically growled, grabbed your arm and spun you, pushing your back until your chest hit the hood of the Model X.  He leaned over you, pushing his covered crotch into the back of your dress, you moaned, wanting more.  His mouth was at your ear.

“Oh, so you want to be my cock whore on the eve of your wedding to someone else.”  You moaned because it was true.

“It’s been so long, Chris…”

He reached down in between you and flipped the flouncy skirt of your dress up, exposing you to the wind of New York City.  He looked at it for a minute, your ass always his favorite.

He caressed it with both hands, pressing into you with his thumbs.  

“So you want me to feel you up?”  He pulled his hand back and sucked one of them, practically jumping for joy when he tasted you. 

“You want me to pull your panties to the side….” and he did so, seeing your slick shine in the moonlight, and playing in it for a minute, tracing your lips and making you quiver around nothing.

The way you were moaning his name was everything right now.

Your face was pressed against the cool metal of the car, and it was the only thing tying you to the earth.

“Oh yes, Chris…. Please please yesss...fuck me… damn...stretch me out…”

Chris’s dick pulsed and he needed you around him. He moved close again and unzipped his pants, the sound making your knees weak.

He teased your cunt with his tip, collecting your arousal and smearing it not only around your pussy, but around your asshole.

“I know you’ve fucked him, but have you let him have your ass?  Am I still the only one…?”

Chris was still playing the game. 

“No, no, no… I haven’t let him… I haven’t given him anything. I’ve been celibate, too.  It’s still yours Chris. All of me is still yours.”

Chris almost came just hearing you say it out loud. He already knew, but hearing you say it was the shit.

He pushed into you with a grunt, and it was difficult.  He didn’t make it. Your cunt squeezed him out.

“Ffffuck, y/n. You’re practically closed down.  Is it true?”  

He started rocking his tip into your pussy slowly, both regretting and reveling in the fact that he didn’t stretch you out with his fingers beforehand.  Then he decided that he wanted you to feel this fully.

You couldn’t answer, only responding with moans has he painfully breached you. You welcomed it, though.

“Ah, ah, ah, ah… yes Chris.  Only you.. Since you and I….”  Talking about it and the fact that you were taking him again made you wetter, and eased Chris’s way, although your pussy was already stinging with his girth. Your eyes rolled back in your head.

You would never get over this and were so grateful for the feeling again.  

Chris watched you and had to grit his teeth to hold back from the reality that he was taking you again. 

He leaned over you, hot breath huffing in your ear, puffing and groaning as he fucked you slowly.  He was trying to feel every sensation. He wanted you to know that each and every millimeter of your glorious wet, tight pussy was his.

‘Ohhhh. Fuck Chris… YESSSS!”  Your voice echoed off the concrete walls, and Chris wanted you louder.

“This what you wanted?  You wanted your thick cock inside you again. Hunh?  You wanted me to stretch your walls and fuck you raw, hunh?”  He started speeding up in time with your moans.

“Such a fucking filthy cockslut for me, baby.”  Chris grabbed your neck from the back. “Why didn’t you let Kevin hit, hunh?”  

You didn’t answer, you just moaned and Chris smacked your ass, hard.

“Chris! Fuck!”  

You screamed. You missed his ruthlessness when you fucked, you missed him making sure that you knew that he knew that you knew. You belonged to him. 

 “Please!”

“I know why.” 

Chris stopped fucking you and pressed down harder on your back, reaching around to find your clit.  He swirled around it once, then started to press down slowly. 

“Because you would never beg him for that subpar dick that he has. You’re MY whore. You belong to me.”

He pressed down roughly, and you detonated around his dick.  He didn’t have to move.  Chris pulled out, leaving you cold and bereft.

You turned around and leaned up against the hood, panting and still desperate for him.  He stood there in front of you, dick sticking out of his pants, which were ruined, and still rock hard and ready. He was in a quiet rage.

“Why did you leave me?” 

You searched his face.  He sounded like he was about to cry.  You couldn’t quite see his entire face, but his eyes shone, bright with liquid.  You went toward him.

“You hurt me Chris.  I couldn’t stay. But let me take care of you now.”

You got on your knees in front of him, the hard concrete of the parking structure digging into your knees.  

Again, you welcomed the physical pain, distracting you from what you were doing to Kevin, to Chris, and to yourself.

Chris felt like he could fly.  You on your knees for him again was a dream. 

He took his cock in his hand, stroking it, while moving close to you. In no time, the back of your head was in his palm, and you opened wide to accept him, hand coming up to stroke what you couldn’t fit.

“Ah, ah. Let me.”  

You looked up at him to see an evil grin shine down on you. 

Chris looked down on an angel trying to swallow him whole. He brushed the tears away from your eyes as you struggled to breathe. You were perfection.

Moaning around him, you relaxed your mouth and throat and let him use you.  It was difficult, because you were out of practice, but you welcomed the letting go of all thought. 

You dripped down your thighs as Chris pumped into you, ready to accept what he had to give. 

After a few minutes, he stopped, and pulled out, grabbing you up to your feet. 

Then he bent down and grabbed you by the back of your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his waist, kissing him and trying to grind down on his still-erect cock as he backed you to the car.

Your ass hit the hood, and Chris reached between you to first tear your panties off. He put them in his pocket as he swiped his dick up and down your dripping wet folds.  

He looked back up to watch your face as he pushed inside you, now, an easier path to nirvana.

He pulsed as he watched the pleasure take over your face, with your mouth slack and your eyes glassed over. This was his main purpose in life and he almost lost it.

He brought his hand up to bring you closer, breathed into your mouth as he squeezed your throat. You were high instantly, and clamped down on his cock as your body was wracked with waves of pleasure.

Chris let your body descend back down to the car as he pumped his seed into you, his mind fantasizing that he was impregnating you. 

He shook your body as the last ropes of cum spurted out of him. He ran his hand down your body as he pulled out, zipping up his pants as you came back to your senses on the hood of the car.

You stared at the stars as you realized what you had done.  You sat up and adjusted your dress, gingerly climbing back down to the ground.  

Chris kissed you on the forehead, and this time you let him get into the driver’s seat. You got in the passenger side and Chris reached into the glovebox and handed you some wet wipes.

“Fix your face. And your knees.” 

He nodded down to your legs, which were dirty from the parking structure floor.  He watched you wipe your knees off, but stopped you as you went higher.

“No. I want you to feel me all night long.”  

You wanted to be a brat, but you didn’t feel like sass right about now. You felt kinda terrible.

You got another wet wipe and fixed your makeup as best you could as Chris drove you back to the restaurant.

“Chris, I…”

“I know.  None of that meant that we’re back together.  That was for some kind of something, I dunno, something Kevin might have done?” 

You looked down, ashamed. Chris lifted your chin up with his hand.

“I want you to come to me on your own.  You’ve gotten that out of your system, and I’m glad to be of service.”  You looked up into his eyes and at his wry smile.

“But remember, you still have a choice. I’m here if you choose me.”  

He leaned over and gave you a tender kiss in front of the restaurant.

You smiled at him and climbed out of the car, watching as he drove off.

Chris’s heart was beating out of his chest as he watched you turn and go back inside. He fought the urge to turn around. It was better this way.

----

You walked in the restaurant, and pulled Kevin over to the side of the restaurant in dark alcove. 

“Listen. Do you still want to marry me?”

He looked you up and down, taking in your state, from the faint marks on your neck to your scuffed knees.  He knew exactly what was up.

You raised an eyebrow at him.  

-----

Three hours later, a sleepy Chris answered the doorbell in Brooklyn.

He smiled at you, in the Captain America t-shirt and jeans that you’d stolen from him after a photoshoot, looking like his favorite Disney princess. You.

You took him in, clad in grey sweatpants that hung off his magnificently cut body.  He blinked at you sleepily.

“The wedding is off. Chris, I….”

He reached out and grabbed you, pulling you in the brownstone and shutting the door behind you.  He had you pinned up against the wall as you tried to speak.

“Shut up and let me taste you.”  

You grinned and wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you upstairs.

--- 

The next morning, Chris was on the phone with Scott.

“Yes, tell the workers at the warehouse to dump all the products….I don’t care, the river, the landfill…. Y/N can’t find out that I bought up all her stock…. We’re going to be married..... I know what the fuck I’m doing Scott. We leave for Aruba this afternoon. Listen, I’ll call you later.”

Chris hung up and turned to find you in the doorway, frowning and rubbing your eyes.  

“We’re going to Aruba?”  

You smiled and yawned, sleepily stretching.  That was all that you’d heard of the conversation.

Chris gave you his stunner smile.  

“Yes. It was going to be a surprise.” 

He reached down and swung you up in his arms, carrying you into the bathroom bridal style.

“Now let’s get in the shower.  You’ve been very naughty, gotta get you clean for your wedding day.”

You giggled as you relaxed in Chris’s arms. “It takes two to be naughty, Chris.”

He winked at you as he turned on the shower. “Don’t I know it.”

-----

I know it’s different. Let me know if you like it. Like, comment, reblog! 

Tags:

@olyvoyl @summerofsnowflakes @sillyteecup @riiyy @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @theselilwonders @lonelydance @chattykathysquietsister @anh1020 @nissameta1782 @afriendlyblackhottie @betterkeepmewetterthanabayou @jbrizzywrites @stilltoyou  @donutloverxo @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @kiwisa @food8me @aiikaa @marvelfansworld  @london-grunge @pheebsyells @thesecretlifeofdaydreams-bl-blog @douxtille @ximaginexx @fofisstilinski @bertieandberries @ladystrawberry @bit-of-a-timelord @chesca-791 @calimoi @fangirlfree @bbaengtan @karolsboo @aliceforbes @insertpithyusername @sickknik @photmath @whorekneebrain  @anacrcarvalho @iconicshit @spicybibimbap @chaoticsteverogers@txtsfromyourex @sadthotsonlylove @ikatieebabyy@nerdymugsharkempath @maroonsunrise83

[xinambercladx]

Dreams are rough sometimes.

The one I had last night was... doomful. There just was this unshakable sense of dread. It started off as if I was at one of those comic book conventions... but not really? Maybe it was a halloween festival. It was night and there were festival like decor around, with orange lanterns and booths for throwing rings on bottles. The festival was half-hearted. It was a distraction from the rising tensions over the Government's latest radical movements... and no one was happy about it. I ran into various friends I've had over the years. Then two different guys show up.

One was someone I had been interested in once. I'll call him Chris. I thought he had been interested in me too a couple years back, but when I made myself... available, and I gave him plenty of signs letting him know I liked him, he... retreated and ignored me. To see him show up was both disappointing and... confusing. Somehow he had heard I had a crush on Cad Bane. And he cosplayed as Cad Bane. It wasn't the best costume, but at least his 3D printed LL30's were perfect af. He fumbled around but again, retreated and never asked me out. Maybe he sensed my anger. Now you're chasing me? When I no longer have a thing for you?? The second guy (Let's call him Jack) was someone I knew during college. We were buds at the time. We hung out a lot. For some reason, he had also dressed up as Cad Bane. Jack always did have a thing for trench coats, now that I think back. He wasn't romantically interested like Chris, but his ego was.. well... let's say he was in love with himself, and he fancied himself as the badass bounty hunter. I rolled my eyes and simply said, "No... you'll always be a final fantasy guy. Like Vincent. Putting on a mask won't change who you are on the inside. Don't kid yourself."

Jack refused to accept that, as if dawning the look of a badass bounty hunter would empower him in some way. "No. I'm tellin' ya," he said in his New Orleans accent. "Just you wait." Leave it to Jack to ruin himself like he ruined his marriage, I thought. Maybe if you paid her as much attention as you do your costumes it wouldn't have ended so poorly. He always had a bad habbit of putting all his energy into things that ultimately didn't matter, as if the fantasy world was more important that real life. I wonder what that says about me, having dreamed all that. The evening fun ended, and the wind was hot, rising from the desert burnt pavement. I started walking home. In the crowds, I heard a boom. It was far away, but there was no mistaking how loud it was, as if a mountain fell. "What was that?" I asked, wide eyed and searching the distance. A woman replied gravely, "The Station. The military is coming." The Station. It was the first of the land-based aircraft carriers. The crowds became uneasy. "I thought the troops weren't coming until next week," someone said. "Since when does the Government tell the truth?" Another replied. The next morning the booms were much louder. The people who overcame their dread gathered to the edge of the city. Off in the desert, far too large for the road, a mass of steel loomed like a giant beatle. If an aircraft carrier and a tank had been kit-bashed together and then given legs... well. That's what I saw. It wasn't an AT-AT by any means. There was nothing elephant or likeable about it. It was a moving air base, nothing more. America was being occupied by it's own military. Ours just happened to be the first of many cities. Rumors were all we had to go on as to why it was happening, why the citizens were no longer trusted with their own safety or to run their own lives. Freedom was at an end and now we saw it coming with our own eyes. Ahead of the monstrosity were thousands of troops, America's own sons and daughters. They walked towards us through the desert like a monsoon dust storm. How the military would go along with this change in policy was baffling. Apathy was the worst kind of hatred. It was a self hatred. What else could it be? I stood there a long time watching the advance. I wanted to see their eyes, I think. When the troops were close enough, I found that I couldn't. All their eyes were covered in sunglasses. No-eye contact. No windows into their souls. ----------------- This dream has been bothering me all day. What the hell is it suppose to mean? I'm afraid of looking up any dream-interpretations. I know my subconscious is trying to make sense of my waking world, maybe trying to warn me of things as it always does. I just don't want to listen to this one. I'm scared.

[arc-misadventures]

White Knight: How did the first date between them go?

Sure! Lets see… Oh: Idea!

As First Dates Go

Jaune: That… That ended terribly…

Weiss: Y-Yeah…

Jaune: And it was going so well!

Weiss: It wasn’t entirely what I was expecting, but, it was really, really nice.

Jaune: R-Really? You were having fun!

Weiss: I was enjoying myself, far more than I expected. The meal was wonderful! I never knew such quaint restaurants could be so wonderful!

Jaune: I’ve been there by myself a few times before. I always thought it would be a nice place to take a date to.

Weiss: It was very wonderful. To be honest, if I didn’t still feel stuffed from my time there, I would go back for another slice of that apple pie of theirs.

Jaune: I know, the pie is my favourite part. D-Did you enjoy the dancing?

Weiss: I was aware you were good at dance, Jaune. But I didn’t know you were that good!

Jaune: Heh… you’re exaggerating, I’m not that good.

Weiss: Jaune, the art of the dance is to make your partner shine upon the dance floor. You made us appear like a light in the darkness. I was forced into dancing because my parents said so. That someone of my status had to learn how to dance. I always hated it, they made me dance because they wanted me to, not because I wanted to. Today is the first time I have never wanted to stop dancing.

Jaune: Oh! Okay, I… Uhh… T-Thank you, that means allot, Weiss.

Weiss: Honestly, I… I thought today was perfect…! Then… That happened…

Jaune: Yeah… That…

Weiss: To think they would spy on us?!

Jaune: And how they did it at that?!

Weiss: Does, Yang seriously think she can get away with a trench coat, a fedora and the fakest of moustaches, with that blonde mane of hair of hers?!

Jaune: Does, Nora even know how to be subtle?! She sticking her head out of a potted plant, in the middle of the dance floor?!

Weiss: And, Ruby’s rose pedals! I could see them all over the place as she tried to keep an eye on us!

Jaune: To be fair, the rose petals flying through the air did add a rather, romantic air to our dance.

Weiss: Okay… I’ll give her that, but it was distracting after I noticed it!

Jaune: I feel sorry for Ren, I know he didn’t want to be a part of this. No doubt he got dragged into this by the rest if them. Probably the same with, Oscar, actually.

Weiss: I don’t know, Oscar can be a bit curious at times…

Jaune: His curiosity worries me at times.

Weiss: Agreed.

Jaune: I am worried about one thing though.

Weiss: What?

Jaune: Blake… she just stood there and kept writing something in her book… I have no idea what, but I’m scared nonetheless.

Weiss: Best not to dwell on that…

Jaune: I can’t, it’s going to be one of those thoughts that haunts me forever…

Weiss: Yeah… Remind me to get her book so I can burn it later…

Jaune: I’ll help you burn it.

Weiss: Well… until our friends spoiled it, I really, really enjoyed our date, Jaune.

Jaune: It gladdens me to hear that, Weiss. Do you think we can go again sometime later… without our friends this time?

Weiss: I would like that, Jaune. I would like that allot.

Jaune: Till later then, Weiss.

Weiss: Till later, Jaune.

[indianamoonshine]

Girl Talk | Din Djarin x Reader | Oneshot

Summary: What does a gal do when she’s just been railed by the most notorious bounty hunter in The Galaxy? Call her best friend of course.

A/N: Just something to tide you over until the next installment of Strawberry! I have anxiety and I need to busy my hands without thinking too much! This takes place after season 2!

There’s a crackling on the other end of the receiver. The telegraph service majorly bites out here on Besiana, which has been dubbed “the trench of The Galaxy”. Getting connected to Gabriele at all is a miracle in itself, though not without exploiting a few (somewhat) illegal hacks by yours truly.

Hells, not even this shitty phoning service can put you in a sour mood.

When Gabriele’s voice sounds at the other end, it gives the air that he’s just awoken from a heavy sleep or he’s suffering a hangover. Probably both. “Now what the hell are you doing all the way out in butt-fucking-nowh…” he starts.

You’re quick to cut him off. “Take a guess.”

Gabriele groans and there’s a rummaging in the background. Something sounds as though it falls off a surface - his alarm clock, probably. He must be in the inner rim somewhere.

“Miss girl, I don’t have time to play these games with you. My head is pounding. Now tell me why you’re in the catacombs of The Galaxy’s ass and…”

Behind you, a body shuffles from outside the refresher door. Your heart thuds rambunctiously in your chest as you carefully peer through a crack of the opening. Din Djarin - The Galaxy’s most notorious Mandalorian- is taking a seat with his rifle in hand. You watch as he begins to disassemble it with great technical precision. Something about watching him take apart his weapon causes your stomach to flutter.

And your knees to weaken.

“I just had sex,” you tell him in a whisper.

Gabriele is silent on the other end for a moment and then lets out a sigh of great disappointment. “Congratulations. I’m going back to bed. Goodnight.”

“The best sex of my life.”

There’s another pause. “Oh?” His interest has piqued, voice more alert at the prospect of juicy gossip. After all, what were best friends for?

You let this linger in the air for a minute, just to marinate his curiosity, and then peek at Din again. He’s taking a rag and wiping the barrel of the rifle; if it weren’t for the helmet upon his head, you’d swear he was concentrating with furrowed and ascetic brow.

“Do you remember that Mandalorian who made a giant fuss a couple of years ago?” you inquire lowly, eyes unable to leave the steadiness of Din’s deft hands.

Those hands. You have to stop yourself from moaning at the recent memories. You swear you can still feel the ghostly sear they left in their wake. The naked skin upon your hips tingles at the sheer recollection, the slick still upon your thighs all-too prevalent.

“You’re lying,” is what Gabriele gasps, absolutely scandalized. You imagine him shooting up in bed and covering his mouth in awe. He was always so dramatic but you couldn’t blame him if he did. This was the exact reaction you were hoping for.

Din grabs another piece of his rifle and starts up again. You have to tear yourself away from looking at him and instead surmise yourself in the mirror. It isn’t very big in any sense of the word but it’ll do. You take a look at your face (blushed and bright) and then your eyes (dazed and dick-drunk). Hells, this man has ruined you.

“I know you have questions,” you reply, tapping at your cheeks. They feel softer somehow.

Gabriele squeaks a bit under his breath. “Did he take off his helmet?”

You shake your head, though he can’t see it. “No. And I think it awoken something in me.”

He tsks. “Damn. I wanna know what he looks like. Okay…”

“I know he’s a brunette,” you say slyly.

Gabriele shrieks at the other end and you have to angle the receiver away with a laugh. “Is it big?”

You recall the tactical consideration- albeit brief - it took to get his dick in your mouth. You did it though, ‘ole girl. You tap yourself on the shoulder with a proud grin.

“Oh, it is. It’s…it’s very nice.”

You find yourself looking out the door again. Din’s moved onto another gun - he’s already put together the last. You grow weary at the sight of his gloved hands alone, but when your eyes trail downwards you find yourself swallowing something thick in your throat. Which in turn, of course, reminds you of the tanginess still lingering upon your tongue.

“Gabriele,” you say seriously, voice so low you can barely hear yourself. “I came eight times.”

“Shut up. You did not.” Gabriele sounds more than just excited - now he sounds jealous. You can’t help but giggle.

You raise a hand to your chest in a show of honesty. “I mean it. Eight times. He went down on me for an hour.”

“I thought you said he didn’t take off his helmet?” Gabriele asks suspiciously.

You chuckle lowly. “Oh, that’s where it gets really good.”

Gabriele - one of the biggest sluts in The goddamned Galaxy - was no stranger to sex. So when you tell him that you were blindfolded during this portion of an absolute wild ride, you’re shocked to find him screeching once more.

You’re about to continue - to confide in him about the brutal rhythm of the ordeal - until a knock startles you. You press the receiver against your chest, still flushed and naked from the previous romp.

Din calls your name from the other side of the door. “Are you alright?”

You freeze, contemplating on everything you could say to this most bland of questions. “I’ll be out in a moment!” you decide, scolding yourself for being so timid. You were at the end of his dick a half-hour ago.

Din mumbles something and then departs. After he’s within a safe distance, you quickly raise the receiver and say, “I have to go. But I’ll tell you everything later.”

Gabriele gawks, “Was that him?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes. Now I really have to go.”

“Oh my gods, okay. Fine.”

You smile, clutching at the durasteel of the phone. “Promise. Love you.”

Your best friend sighs theatrically. “Love you too. Be safe, okay? I don’t even know who I’d call to go after him if something happened to you. No one would be stupid enough.”

The idea of Din doing anything to put you in harm’s way is inconceivable. You’ve only known him for a short amount of time - a couple of weeks at most - but you already trust him with your life.

“I’d die a happy woman,” you joke.

A short while later, you exit the refresher with sopping, clean hair and any traces of sex scrubbed away from between your legs. Din’s allowed you to wear one of his night shirts (an honor in itself) because your clothes had been soiled.

Din is placing his rifle upon its rack when you sneak by for the kitchen. You pour yourself a cup of Java - black, unfortunately, because of Din’s lack of sweet tooth. The liquid is steaming hot so you blow on it before bringing it to your lips.

“Do you want one?” you ask him, taking a sip. It burns. “Oof.”

Din turns, armor somehow so dexterous in its bulk. “No, thank you. But…”

In a surprising move, Din reaches for your hips and pulls you flush against him, ignoring the mug altogether. You shriek, worried it might spill, and set it upon the countertop, but he pays little to no mind.

“You took awhile,” he mumbles, hands grasping at the flesh of your hips. They’ve already been treated so roughly today, and now you were sure there’d be bruising. Good.

You chew at your bottom lip, desperate to know what his eyes might look like. You imagine he has dark eyes - like the color of the sky at nightfall. Maybe they became brighter in the light of the suns. Maybe they crinkled when he laughed - if he were capable of that, anyway. You’ve yet to hear such music.

“I didn’t realize you were waiting for me,” you confess, avoiding the steel gaze of his faceplate.

Din hums under his breath and taps your chin, lifting it just barely so that you can meet his stare. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You shrug, fluttering your lashes in a vain attempt to remain mysterious.

Din reaches for something behind you and reveals a scrap of fabric. “How about we try for nine?” The modulator of his helmet crackles a bit, causing his voice to sound more severe than what he may have liked.

But it does something to you.

You nod sweetly, a tiny grin threatening to sneak its way upon your face, before he takes you within his arms and lifts you upon the counter.

A shrieking, but playful, giggle bursts from your lips. “Din!” you chide, but tie the fabric around your eyes all the same.

The hiss of his helmet sounds, notifying you that he’s revealing himself to the elements now. You can hear his natural breath and feel the way it fans against your collarbones before he kisses you fiercely.

“Let me give you something to really talk about.”