#neither actually needs a helmet but here they are

[jackdaw-and-hattrick]

Phantom Driver/Punch it Old Man!

Danny and Danni on The Ghost Bike. Featuring Bottle the Bunny Backpack.

[bitchfitch]

I've started playing Potion Permit, and so far it's one of my favorite games I've messed around with, but the most big brained move the devs made was giving you a dog on day 1, and then making that dog able to track NPCs and lead you directly to them no matter where they are in the town.

[back2bluesidex]

We Need Practice - JJK (18+)

A Sequel to Novice.

Pairing: Pornstar!Jungkook X Fem!Reader

Theme: Fluff, smut

Wordcount: 2.1k+

Summary: Jungkook wants you to ride him and you are too bad at that.

Warnings: Unprotected sex, messy cock riding, cumming all over body, they are down bad for each other, more fluff than I intended to have, confessions. NSFW!!

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

Masterlist | Patreon

“Don’t judge a book by its cover” 

You have heard this phrase for thousands of times in your entire lifetime but you have hardly had any chance of actually implying the same in your life. 

But then you met Jungkook and you understood how true that one sentence can be. 

Jeon Jungkook is the text-book definition of what those cliched bad-boys or fuckboys would look like. 

With a hand full of tattoos, silver rings dangling from piercings, impressively structured body and a small waist that could rival female models, he really looks like someone who would be fucking people and putting on a show out of it. 

And that is exactly what he does. 

Pornstar Jeon Jungkook is actually very notorious. 

But Jeon Jungkook as a person is a completely different story. 

After that one encounter at that porn movie set, he asked for your number and you complied with his request thinking of he could give you some of the best fucks of your life (not that you have had many fucks to brag about in the first place). 

If you are being honest, then you never expected him to be the sweetheart that he actually is. Since the day you two exchanged numbers, he never once asked if he could come over during god-forbidden hours of night. He never once asked for your nude pictures, neither did he ever force you to meet him. 

Rather he sends you funny dog videos, funny tik tok clips and asks you how was your day. And you can’t lie about the fact that your heart has already started acting strange, like it flutters everytime Jungkook’s name glows on your dark phone screen. 

It’s been more than a month since you have been chatting regularly and now you are getting a little impatient. 

As much as you appreciate his good-boy vibes, you would like to see him again, touch him again. 

So you do what you have been thinking of doing for more than a week now. 

“Sleeping?” you hit send, praying to the universe that he doesn’t find you a desperate bitch for what you are going to do. 

The clock reads 2:15 am already, and just then his reply arrives, “nah. Can’t sleep. What about you?” 

“Me too. Can’t sleep.” 

You take a deep breath before typing the next message, “do you wanna hangout?” 

Just when you are about to add “at my place” to complete your proposition, his reply hits your screen, “Send me your address. And wear something warm before I ask you to come out.” 

Wait. is he? Taking you out? 

Even though you were trying to ask for sex but this option feels even better to be honest. 

So you send him your address and he texts you that he will be there within 10 minutes. Wearing your gray padding, you wait for him to arrive at your place. 

Another positive point about Jeon Jungkook is that he is punctual. You might even call him a green flag because your phone dings with a “I am here” text right on 2:27 am. 

The scene that unfolds in front of you once you come out of your apartment, almost leaves your jaw hanging mid air. 

Jungkook has arrived with a bike, dressed in complete black. If you drooled a little at the sight then you would never admit that. 

Once he sees you awkwardly walking towards him, he takes off his helmet and welcomes you with one of his infamous bunny smiles. 

Your heart does a little flip inside your chest. 

His big doe eyes shine amid the darkness as if those are made of some priceless stone. At this moment it’s really tough to believe that he is a pornstar, who fucks people on camera to earn a living. 

“Hey. you look beautiful.” he greets you with a compliment when you come close to him. 

“You look even more handsome today.” you return his compliment genuinely. And at that, the tip of his ears turn red. 

“Ah thanks.” he replies shyly as he hands you a helmet. And gestures to you to mount his fancy bike. 

You take the helmet, slip that on your head and hold him by his shoulders to climb on his bike. 

Once you have settled, he revves the engine. 

“Hold me tightly” he says briefly before setting the bike in motion. You wrap your arms around his waist and hold him just as he asked you to. 

The deserted road, the trees whooshing by, the buildings that look peaceful, everything feels so beautiful. 

Maybe it’s because of the hour or maybe it’s because you are with someone you like. 

The bike comes to a halt at a crossing and you slide up the windshield of your helmet, “where are we going?” 

He looks at you through the mirror, slides his own windshield up and gives you another sickening smile, but doesn’t say anything. 

5 more minutes later he parks the bike beside a huge lake. 

It looks like a secluded area. The lake is mostly hidden amid big trees and surrounded by fishing spots and some benches. 

Jungkook spreads his hand before you once you both are standing side by side. 

You take the cue and place your hand on his. He intertwines his fingers with yours and you start blushing. Thanks to the darkness, he wouldn’t be able to witness it. 

Once you are sitting on a bench, Jungkook starts, “I often come here to fish with my hyungs. This is my first time coming here with a woman.” 

When you look at him, you find him already staring at you, “Really? You look like the type to have a lot of girlfriends, you know?” 

“Is it because of my profession?” there is a hint of sadness in his eyes. 

So you press on his hand, which is still intertwined with yours and say, “no. not because of that. It’s just that you are generally very attractive and charming, Jungkook.” 

His face brightens up with a beautiful smile, “Too bad, I was about to say the same about you. But you snatched my words.” 

Your eyes widen at his compliment, “You find me attractive?” 

“Why? Why are you so surprised? Is it wrong to find someone attractive?” he giggles, staring deep into your eyes. 

“No. Th-that’s not what I meant. I mean, you know, you work with far more attractive women than me. So.. it’s kind of unlikely actually.” you fumble with your words. 

Jungkook chuckles at your explanation, “they are just colleagues, Y/N. Just like any other profession, we have a strict business relationship. And honestly, they are not even my type. You, on the other hand, fit perfectly into the category of women I would love to date.” 

Your eyes go even wider at his confession, “you.. You want to date me?” 

“If you let me. If you trust me despite the nature of my profession… I would love to make you mine.” Jungkook breathes slowly, his eyes drop down to your lips. 

Before you can voice your answer, your intrusive thoughts win and you reach up, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. 

“I think I would love it too.” 

And then you find yourself being pulled by the back of your neck as Jungkook crashes his lips on yours. It’s passionate, it’s overwhelming, it’s so beautiful and you never felt anything close to this. 

He licks the seam of your lower lip asking you to grant him permission, you let him inside your mouth. 

His tongue probes into your mouth testing each corner, you moan into his mouth. His other hand wraps around your waist pulling you even closer. 

And then you feel one, two, three and then multiple drops of rain falling on you two. 

He detaches his lips from yours, “fuck. It’s raining.” 

“Let’s go back to my place.” you reply, trying to cover your heads with your hands. 

It’s been one of your bucket list wishes to ride a bike in the rain with the person you love and probably it’s going to come true today. 

You hold him tightly, pressing your chest on his back, not in a sexual, but in a loving manner. It starts raining heavily within a few minutes, and Jungkook quickens his speed to reach your destination as soon as possible. 

“Where are you going?” you place your question, seeing Jungkook putting on his helmet again after dropping in front of your apartment entrance. 

Even though the rain has turned into drizzle now, it still can be quite dangerous to drive a bike in this weather.  

“Home. Where else?” he adds a little sheepishly. 

“Jungkook, it’s still raining. I don’t think it’s any wiser to go home now, you’re drenched on top of that. Come inside. You can leave after the sunrise. If you want.. I mean.” you propose, he seems to think for a bit. 

“I don’t think I should go inside, Y/N.” Jungkook looks at the ground as if it’s more interesting than your face. 

“Why? What’s wrong?” you are truly confused now. 

“I might not be able to control myself…” his voice fades by the time he manages to end the sentence. 

“Did I say I want you to control?” you bite your lip, hoping that you don’t appear to be too desperate to him. 

His eyes go wider inside his bulky helmet. 

Jungkook pushes your naked body on the mattress. 

“I couldn’t stop thinking of how good you felt that day.” He groans while biting down on the skin of your neck. 

Your hands roam around the smooth skin of his back. Everytime you scratch his back, he moans a little. 

“So pretty, so delicate, so perfect for me.” Jungkook groans again. 

One of his hands reaches down, finding your clit within a moment. It’s as if he has studied the map of your body with earnest interest. 

Drawing tight circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves, he pulls out melodic moans out of your throat. 

“Jun-jungkook mmm..” you moan again. 

“Yes baby. Say my name again.” he urges you while entering your heat with his middle finger. His digit plunges inside you, making you see stars indoors. 

“Jungko- I’m close” you manage to voice somehow. And as soon as those words fly out of your mouth, he empties you. 

You look at him being dumbfounded. He smirks at you, knowing what exactly he has done. 

“I want you to cum on my cock. I am hard as hell, baby.” he confesses blatantly. 

Just when you are about to hold him, he flips you around. So, now you are sitting on his thighs.  

“I want you to ride me.” he adds a little breathlessly. And you almost choke on your own spit. 

“What? I-I don’t..” 

“I will guide you, Y/N.” he cuts you off. 

He helps you in taking off his slacks along with his underwear. Once he is naked, he holds you by your waist and lines your entrance along with his cock. 

“Are you ready?” he asks briefly. You nod in affirmation. And then he is sliding you down his length. 

At first his length is overwhelming but you adjust fast. 

“You should move now.” Jungkook’s voice is laced with lust, his eyes are hazy, making him look even more attractive than he already is. 

You honestly have no idea how to move. So you try to implement your visual experience. However, it’s tough once you start bouncing on his cock. Even though Jungkook is guiding you well, you are messy regardless. 

Your moves and Jungkook’s thrusts don’t match at all and the experience is nothing like that day. 

You really are a novice. 

Even though the friction is delicious for you, Jungkook’s expression tells that he is very underwhelmed. So, you start trying your best. With a few more bounces, you cum all over his cock, creaming it perfectly. 

As soon as you are done, Jungkook flips you around again. He slips out of you and starts playing himself. 

Even though you are in your post-orgasm haze, it’s embarrassing for you. You couldn’t help him finish and he had to take the charge himself. 

With a few more pumps, he cums all over your body. Starting from your face, to your stomach, everything gets creamed in his white hot seed. 

And it’s hot. He is hot. And you are pathetic. 

“I-I’m sorry. I know it was bad.” you manage to voice once Jungkook is done with himself. 

“You are not bad, baby. We just need more practice together.” and then he is sealing his lips with yours again. 

You certainly need more practice with him. 

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

900 followers event. Congratulations!! ❤️You deserve all the love! Your writing is so wonderful, I love seeing you update! ♥️

Please take a break when you need it! 💕

"You have to catch me, okay?!"

Rooftop Shenanigans

Hi, nonnie! Thank you so much!! 🥰💙 This is about 500 words because I really have no self-control when it comes to Jason Todd

You are never letting Jason Todd talk you into anything ever again. I mean, what kind of person suggests traveling across Gothams rooftops for fun?

Sure, you're well aware of his whole Red Hood thing. But you? You are not a vigilante. But he was so convincing! And yeah, you were a little curious about what his nights looked like.

So, if you had agreed to take a glimpse into his world, you don't think anyone could blame you for that.

It had been exciting, at first, using the grappling hook to lift yourself to higher ledges, to jump from roof to roof. But now? The vertigo settled into your body tells another story.

He'd made a, frankly, ridiculous jump down to a fire escape, and you knew there was absolutely no way you could make it.

"I'm not doing it Ja– Red Hood. You have to come get me," you protest, stuck by your own fears at the edge of the roof.

"You can make it, sweetheart, C'mon. I'm right here. You know I wouldn't let you get hurt," he soothes, trying to persuade you into jumping.

You shake your head venomously, "Absolutely not. It's not you I don't trust, it's just that– I won't make it. I know I won't make it."

He tilts his head at you and lifts his arms, voice going low and coaxing, "C'mere."

Your heart skips a beat, and you waver, biting at your cheek anxiously, "You have to catch me, okay?"

"I will," he says, steady and unyielding, even in the face of your uncertainty.

You suck in a breath, steel your nerves, and squeeze your eyes shut. And then you jump.

It's a rush, the wind whipping past your skin, your adrenaline spiking, the slight fear that you might really, actually fall.

It's fast. It feels like your feet have only just left the ground before Jason has you in his arms, holding you securely by your waist against his chest. The air leaves your lungs in a relieved sigh, and you don't hesitate to tuck your head into the crook of his neck.

He laughs a little, giving you a light squeeze before carefully setting you to your feet, but neither of you seem ready to let go. "That wasn't so bad, right, sweetheart?"

You huff, only a little disappointed he set you down so quickly, "That. Was. Terrifying. Not all of us are vigilantes, ya know."

He laughs again, pulling back to see your face as his hands find your waist, "You'd be good at it."

You don't fight the smile that creeps on your face, pleased at his praise, "You think so?"

He nods, and he sounds smug as he taps your waist, pulling away to make his way across the fire escape, "I know so. That was a pretty big jump you made. On your first try, too."

The shriek that you make behind him only makes him laugh harder, and you grin wildly when he barely dodges the well aimed grappling hook you threw at his helmet.

It leaves you both in breathless giggles, when in return, he charges back towards you to lift you into a dizzying spin.

You decide then and there that spending nights roaming rooftops isn't so bad after all.

[petermorwood]

Interesting post about costume here.

This paragraph in particular caught my attention...

What we think of as “peasant garb” is actually the product of a game of telephone that travels back from Romantic Revival art, and many of those (urban) artists got their idea of what rural peasants wore from opera costumes. The costumers working at the opera were not going out to the country side to take notes on what farmers actually wore, nor did they want to. Opera is show biz, you want it to be evocative, but not ordinary. Their costumes would have been based on what urban folks were wearing, with extra little touches like a shepherds crook to make it look “rural”.

... because it was Wagner's Ring Cycle that gave us horned helmets.

They didn't originate with the Vikings. They originated with the 1876 costume designs for a bunch of operas, and those designs by Carl Emil Doepler still exist.

For reference, all the horny characters are mortals.

Those helmets were probably based on archaeological finds, even though all Northern European examples are, AFAIK and depending on context, either religious headgear equivalent to a bishop's mitre, or ceremonial headgear equivalent to a crown.

In addition, every single one predates the Viking Age by a period ranging from a couple of centuries to a couple of millennia so - makes vague handwave gesture - they're more appropriate for the sorta-kinda mythic Migration Era setting of the Ring than any Vik who ever inged..

Doepler's designs also feature WINGED helmets, worn by immortals like Wotan...

... and the Valkyries.

Something else I encountered when looking for pics to illustrate this was that other clichéd armour error, the boob-plate.

Here's dramatic soprano Karin Branzell wearing one...

...while here's heroic tenor Fritz Vogelstrom also wearing one.

He's singing the role of Siegfried but wearing the costume of Brunnhilde, at least that's how it looks to an operatic Philistine like me.

Anyway...

Winged helmets are even more historically dodgy - no archaeological evidence at all - yet are actually more feasible as working combat helmets.

The difference is that horns, being heavy, need sturdy mountings so a horned helmet both provides catch-points for incoming blows and handles for an enemy to grapple, while a winged helmet does neither. The wings, being light, wouldn't need solid fixtures so would just shear off under a weapon or come off in an enemy's hands.

I'm well aware that other times, places and cultures - Indo-Persia, Poland, Japan etc. - had helmets with wings, horns and all sorts of other stuff, but this is about how the popular image of Vikings that headgear came from opera.

And went all over the place... :->

[aangelinakii]

Hi I saw that your requests were open and I wanted to know if you would be interested in writing a headcanon where Jason's s/o is also a vigilante (they have powers maybe, like Violet Parr's with force field and invisibility); and strangely enough the villains quite like them (in a platonic way) they don't mind reader at all and actually have a type of frenemy thing going on? Wouldn't it be funny if while fighting the villains would just be like "I'll kill you Red hood! You too Batman and... oh hey reader!vigilante name :D how you doing? Have you thought about my invitation to the villains party?!"

If you accept my ask you can make as crack fic as you want, it is a funky prompt so 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ but feel comfortable to decline also 💖

-🎃

TWO FRENEMIES WITH FRIES ON THE SIDE.

— you're alright. him, however...

summary : you're on patrol with your equally as vigilante boyfriend, when you come across some havoc in the night. the two of you need to work together to defeat them. but it's less easy for jason tonight.

before you read : this will be a superrr unserious fic, so if you aren't prepared for some silly stuff to happen, you just aren't on the level of this fic

note : thank you so so much for requesting pumpkin !! or is that a jack o lantern ??? either way, i love your anon emoji, and i thought this request was so funny !! i turned it into a fic instead of headcanons because i had a better idea for it, so i hope it's what you wanted !!! again, thank you for requesting ml <3

second note : sorry it took a few days to write up,, i went through a mini writer's block, but i hope it's enjoyable nonetheless 🫶🫶

when you and jason had left the apartment to go on patrol that evening, neither of you had really been expecting to find the condiment king breaking into a closed mcdonald's to steal their condiments. and of course it had to have been you two to find him.

no one ever wanted to come across the condiment king. you're probably sitting here assuming it's because of how indubitably evil he is, and how his plans always invoke terror into the streets of gotham; the reason no one wants to find him is because it will make the night a lot of work in terms of saving the city.

well, you're wrong. sure, he made the night far harder than it needed to, by squirting ketchup and mayo all over your patrol gear.

one, it made you stink for the rest of patrol – and when you're out looking after the city, you can't exactly go home and change. two, it's incredibly difficult to get out of clothes, for the condiment king had chemically altered his condiments of attack to thicken when oxidising; it's like trying to get sticky tapioca out of a metal sift.

he'd spotted jason first, who'd jumped down from the shadows to apprehend him. after all, the condiment king had only just bust the door open; he was quite a poor excuse for one of gotham's villains.

there was joker, penguin, two-face... for batman's case, he'd encountered space villains, which seem a lot scarier due to their near-invincible powers.

but you two had been stuck with the condiment king.

"AH!" he screamed, jumping back at the sight of the taller male, scrambling for his tubes and fire-guns. "you shouldn't be here!"

"me?" jason gravelled from beneath his red helmet, his head tilting and white eyes glowing menacingly. "i think we both have two very different ideas about that."

without warning, red and yellow squirted all over jason's front, causing him to step back in surprise, groaning at the growing stench.

before him, the condiment king yelped as his condiment guns were kicked from his grasp, as you sprung from the shadows.

"no can do, buddy," you breathed, watching his guns scatter to the ground, the tubes attached to their bottoms popping as they ripped from the bottles. "besides, haven't you heard about the boycott? why not use taco bell nacho cheese?"

the condiment king gasped, stepping back as you arrived, though his worry ceased quickly as he registered the sight of you. "oh, (name)! didn't realise you were out tonight."

"didn't realise you were, either, buddy."

you moved to stand behind him, taking his wrists and pinning them against his back, slapping a pair of cuffs against the skin. "but you understand why i have to do this, right?"

with a sigh, the condiment king nodded, his stature weakening. "yeah, i suppose so... hey, did you ever receive my invitation?"

"invitation?" the red hood repeated wearily, hands still avoiding his messy now-orange chest.

"uh.. i did, yeah," you chuckled as you tightened the handcuffs around his wrists. "i'll have to see if you can make it, yeah? find someone to bail you out if you can."

"invitation?" jason repeated once more. "what invitation?"

with a smile, the condiment king looked up at the red hood, completely disregarding the sauce he'd messed his clothes up with. "it's my birthday in a few weeks. i invited (name) and some other people, no big deal."

from behind his mask, jason looked over at you, and you could practically feel his quizzical glare on you. "you were invited to this nutter's birthday party?"

nonchalant as ever, you gave a nod, accompanying it with a half-shrug. "yeah, i'd ask to invite you, but something tells me you wouldn't be too wanted there."

[sugaimhome]

next door again - jjk

pairing: yandere jk (though not so yandere anymore) x female reader

genre: smut, angst

18+

words: 1.8k

warnings: thigh riding, he's possessive, a bit yandere, he doesn't stop praising her. not much more than that tbh, don't want to spoil it but he cums too.

summary: jungkook doesn't like it when he sees you with taehyung, doesn't like it when taehyung won't step back. that's how you end up here, riding his thigh to prove who you belong to.

a/n: when i read this back i wasn't as proud of it as i hoped i would be... but i still love it lolol and i really love this couple. a special thanks to @zetaares who suggested thigh riding and deserves all the love in the world ty.

main fic

hardly proof read and not beta read ):

Monday had dragged on. After changing your weekend to spend time with Jungkook all you wanted to do was spend today with him as well, but one thought of those poor children with a substitute teacher… you had worked hard for this job and you weren't about to sacrifice it for some man. Even if that man was really good at sex. And was smoking hot. 

It's the end of the day, you're in the carpark waving goodbye to one of your students when two things happen simultaneously.

Taehyung places his hand on your shoulder.

Jungkook pulls up on his bike.

The thing is, you're still preoccupied with the first to really pick up on the second so as you turn to Taehyung, you begin the speech you'd had in your head since lunch. He'd sat next to you in the staffroom and failed to give you any room, his knee pressing against yours.

"Taehyung, I appreciate you as a boss but-" 

He still has a grip on your shoulder. You feel so uncomfortable. "But I really need some personal space" He tries pulling you closer by the shoulder. He's cornered you because he knows you won't make a scene with all of the children watching. 

He doesn't give up and he's looking at you as if he might-

"She said she needed her personal space." Jungkook's beside you, and you're grateful because there was no way you could have escaped that by yourself. You realise he has his hand on your waist only when he's pulling you closer to him and away from Taehyung. You don't consider what it looks like for a tattooed, pierced, sexy, motorcycle man to pull you close to him. Five year olds would never forget this. Neither would Taehyung, the look on his face. "And who are you?" Taehyung asks him.

"Her boyfriend, who is also a boxer, so don't try this again," he leans down and kisses your forehead. The action has you weak in the knees. You knew that he was only calling you his girlfriend to get Taehyung off your back but it was hot nonetheless. It sounded right. He holds your hand, pulling you away from the scene.

"Do you actually box?" you ask him as he pulls you away, a smile breaks out on his face.

"I'm a county champion" He's got that cocky smile on his face that you'd accustomed yourself too. 

"No way?" you exclaim, letting him hand you your helmet. 

"That idiot is still looking at us." He says, glancing at Taehyung. The area is pretty empty of children, a couple of mums hang about by the entrance, but they aren't paying much attention, and their children are running about mindlessly on the grass banks. "If there weren't children here." Jungkook turns and looks at you, his eyes wide and angry. "I would fuck you over this bike so he knows who you belong to."

"Oh" is all you can manage, heat rushing to your core. There's a part of you that would really like that, but you cringe at how weird and dirty it was so you climb onto the back of the bike behind him, snuggling into his back and gripping him tight. Jungkook revs the bike as he exits the car park. What a scene. You loved it. Taehyung would never bother with you again. Brilliant.

Your mind is clear of thoughts as Jungkook drives through the backstreets, he’s still careful when you’re on the bike with him, your confidence has risen, gripping him around his waist, pressing your whole body to his to keep stable. The helmet restricts the wind from running through your hair and you desperately wish it would, the bike gives you a feeling of freedom. It takes you half the time it would if you were to drive, Jungkook could easily skip the rush-hour traffic.  When you’re home, you climb off his bike and head to his house on instinct. You had practically moved in this weekend, and you had no intention of leaving any time soon. The second you walk in the door, you slip off your shoes and hang your coat up on the hooks, Jungkook walks past you, straight towards the living room where he sits on the sofa with his arms crossed and legs open wide. 

“What's wrong Koo” you ask him, and he huffs.

“Nothing” he mumbles, looking away from you.

“Hey” you say, concerned you’d done something wrong.

“Does that man always irritate you?” he asks.

“Yeah, but I am used to it.” you reassure him, unsure why jungkook's opinion on you and Taehyung even bothers you. It wasn’t as if you were dating.

Jungkook looks at you, then to his lap and you think he’s about to gesture for you to sit there, so you make your way over to him. Though he stops you before you can sit down, playing with the button of your trousers, when he goes to pull them down, you let him, watching as his eyes widen at the lacy lingerie you’d put on this morning, just for him. He spends a moment just looking at you before pulling them down and holding you as you step out of them. “So beautiful. All for me,” he tells you, and you blush. 

He looks up at you, as if to check you were okay. “Want you to ride my thigh.” Your eyes go wide, shocked at his want to please you. “Want you to leave a mark on my grey joggers.”

You shudder, your nipples hardening and heat rushing to your core as he spoke. You nod, and he grabs your waist to pull you towards his thigh. Your skin against the soft fabric of his joggers, and the hard muscles of his thighs underneath, makes you want to collapse, but he kisses you, still gripping onto your waist to keep in control of your body. With your lips pressed against one anothers, you bite and nip at his skin, desperate for him to let you move. When he pulls away you pout, “Jungkook please” you beg him, he smiles.

“What do you want, Love” Jungkook teases, as if he hadn’t been the one to suggest this.

“Wanna ride your thigh” you whisper, looking away from him as you speak.

“You do huh” he taunts, you're hot all over from the embarrassment of it. You hum anyways.

“Good girl,” he lets go of your waist, sitting back and resting his hands behind his head, relaxed as you slowly grind yourself against him. Trying not to moan, trying not to give him that satisfaction, because damn you’d never done anything like this before and it felt so good. He watches your cunt as it glides against his bottoms, hoping to get a glimpse of the wetness you’d leave there. 

“Do I feel good Y/N?” he asks, still watching as you rut against him. 

“Always feel so good Jungkook” you reply, letting a small moan fall past your lips in the process. Only causing Jungkook to smirk in response. You could tell he liked getting you off. “Do you like making me cum jungkook?”

“I do, could watch you cum every minute of every day.” he reaches forward, grabbing hold of your hips and helping you move on his thigh. The weight he applies onto your hips only increases the friction of your clit rubbing against his thigh. You shift your knee, grinding it against his clothed dick everytime you move forward on his thigh. “Fuck” he says, hissing though his teeth. From your mouth falls a constant chant of “oh my god, oh my god jungkook” in a repetitive circle. 

“This is going to make me cum in my boxers” he tells you, throwing his head back in pleasure, though quickly correcting himself when he realises he couldn’t see you with his eyes on the ceiling. You quickly make it your main priority to rub your knee against his confined cock, angry against the confinements of his boxers and joggers. 

The two of you are a moaning mess, receiving pleasure from each other in the weirdest way. You had never done anything so wonderful in your life. The warmth and firmness of Jungkook under you, the way your bare knee brushed his clothed dick.

“Jungkook-” you try to warn him, but you can’t speak, out of breath from the effort and pleasure of it.

“I’m close too” he mumbles, his ears red underneath his shaggy hair. “You’re so hot, so sexy for me.” 

You whine. “So good for me, my good girl.” the imprints of his nails will surely be embedded into your skin for days.

He’s just rambling because he's close to orgasm, but his words only make your release closer and closer. “Jungkook please” you say, though you don’t know what you’re begging him for.

“Damn it, I am cumming” he says, his hands still helping you grind against him. He throws his head back, and your orgasm hits when you see the dark patch of his cum stain the inside of his joggers. You sudder, hardly able to hold yourself up on his leg, you collapse forward, almost feeling like the world has paused for this moment where your mind goes blank of everything but complete bliss and satisfaction. It pauses for you and Jungkook, who runs circles on your waist with his thumb as you come down from your high. It feels like stepping off a rollercoaster, when your heart is still viciously beating. 

You’re breathing in sync with Jungkook until you both return to normal. Suddenly feeling one of your thighs cramping you sit up and use Jungkook's shoulder as an anchor to stand up. He hisses, cursing under his breath.

“Y/N, take my phone” 

You do, standing up on wobbling legs. “Take a picture of me from my stomach downwards”

At first you weren’t sure why, but once you took a few steps back you could see. His left thigh, where you had been grinding against him, was stained a darker grey due to your wetness, and his crotch is wet from his cum. He looked like some kind of sex god. You snap a picture, wobbling back to him and passing him back his phone.

“Might send this to your creep of a boss so he knows you’re mine.”

mini taglist:

@hoseokgrecns @chimmisbae @kkhope @hoseok666 @crazyforbangtan

ty all <3

[aoioozora]

THIS IS SO AMAZING OMG (talking about the Simon fanfic btw) YOU JUST EARNED A FOLLOWER ❤️❤️ we'd really appreciate it if you did a part 2? 🥹 Take care

Simon.

Part 2

Part 1 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost

Content: Biker! Ghost x Fem! Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, civilian au

Note: I was never planning on making this a series but here we go, I guess I'm invested too now >:) thank you for requesting and following! While this series is fluff only, I have a small warning for this part: there's swearing, crude jokes. And possibly incorrect usage of Scottish and English slang. Enjoy :) Photo credit: mus

“It's pishin’ it doon out here.”

Simon looked at his friend and sighed, “English, MacTavish.” 

MacTavish groaned. “It's raining fuckin’ hard.” 

“Then say so.” 

“I did!” 

Simon and his friend, John MacTavish or ‘Johnny’, as he was affectionately called, found themselves standing under the shade of a book café, helmets in hands, watching Simon's bike get drenched in the heavy rain. Neither of them expected a downpour, and were caught without raincoats. And so the two had no choice but to wait it out. 

“It was yer bloody brilliant idea to go on a road trip when I warned ye that it was gonna rain today,” Johnny griped, crossing his arms as he shook the rain water off his helmet. 

Simon didn't say a word. He copied Johnny in getting the water off his helmet, except that he wiped it off with his hand. As he hung his head down to do so, his messy blond hair fell over his eyes, and he shook his head to get it out of the way. He wiped his hands on a handkerchief to dry them, and then pulled his mask down below his nose to inhale a fresh gulp of the cold, wet air. When he had inhaled enough, he pulled the mask back on, and his eyes wandered to his motorcycle, which was surrounded by a foggy haze in the rain. 

His mind wandered to that night he saved a young lady off the dangerous streets. He remembered how he saw her from afar, and without a second thought, sped up to her assailants, half-intent on actually flattening them into crepes. He remembered how his engine pounded as adrenaline charged his blood, as he twisted the accelerator to full throttle, sending the vehicle flying. 

A pretty lady he thought she was. He didn't know why he called her his girlfriend; his brain decided that being a boyfriend was the second most powerful thing a man could be, the first being a husband. No other men would mess with another man's woman, that was for sure, unless he had a death wish. She acted well too, convincingly even. 

He pulled out his phone and turned it around. Nestled beneath the clear casing was a small, clear candy wrapper, the same one that the pretty lady gave him that day. He didn't know why he felt the need to keep it, but did anyway. He definitely wanted something to remind him of her. 

He had been in anguish ever since he dropped her off and rode away; he had completely forgotten to ask for her name. But who does that? They were strangers. What are the odds that two strangers would meet again? 

“I'm heading inside,” Johnny announced, “I want a coffee.”

“Get me some tea.” 

“Fuckin’ Brit.” 

Simon was about to correct Johnny by telling him that Scotland, where he was from, was also part of the British isles, but he bit back, not wanting to risk hearing a rant in exclusively colorful, and totally family friendly Scottish words and phrases. 

“Fine, I'll do it myself.” Simon rolled his eyes and followed Johnny inside the book cafe. 

The two men sat at a table and while Johnny peered into the menu, Simon sank back into the comfortable chair and looked at the yellow bulbs hanging overhead, casting a soft, golden glow on the smooth wooden tables, the floors, and the cutlery. The smell of coffee, cakes, and books filled the air, along with the soft ruffle of pages, clinks of tableware and cups and saucers, and the distinct murmurs of his friend across him as he figured out what coffee he wanted to have. 

A waiter came by to take their orders, and the two were soon left to their own, sitting in unusual silence as they stared out the glass windows at the relentlessly pouring rain. While Johnny hummed a tune to himself, Simon, tired of looking at the downpour, decided to amuse himself with people watching. 

He saw people working at their laptops, some reading and drinking, others chatting in soft murmurs, and staff doing their job. 

His eyes fell on one particular lady who was seated at a table across the cafe, back facing him, busily working on her laptop. He felt his heart stop for a moment. Her silhouette was familiar, particularly her hair; it looked just like her. His heart pounded beneath his ribs. 

He didn't realise how long he looked until Johnny's voice piped, “Wit ye lookin’ at?” which interrupted the momentary buzz of his thoughts. 

Simon turned to his friend, who was looking at him with mingled curiosity and confusion. “Nothing.” he replied, shaking his head and hanging it down slightly to look away, but his eyes immediately darted to the lady, as if she was a strong magnet. 

Johnny wasn't quite convinced, and he followed Simon's line of vision. “A lass,” he observed, smirking. 

Simon glared at his friend, but it only made him chuckle. The two watched as she stood up for a moment and turned around, intent on walking to the shelves to grab a book. That's when Simon saw her face, and again, his heart seized. 

“It's her.”

His breath lodged tight in his lungs and his body visibly stiffened. And the most unfortunate reaction of them all: his partially exposed cheeks had turned pink. His eyes were glued to her, and he was unaware that Johnny was still keenly observing him. 

“Ye ken her?” asked Johnny, his smirk widening. 

“You remember I saved a girl the other day?” He asked back. 

“That's her?” Johnny whipped his head back again to take another gander at the lady. 

She was furiously flipping through the pages of a hardbound book, as if desperately in search of something. Simon rested his elbow on the armrest of the chair and leaned his cheek on his fist; he watched with interest as she hunched over the book like a medieval scholar, and wondered what her occupation was. She went back to her seat, hunched over again, and the two men looked back at each other. 

“Go talk to her,” Johnny challenged.

“No.”

“Keep bein’ a fuckin’ pussy and ye won't get to fuck that pussy, ye ken?” 

Simon snorted at that, but then immediately and quietly hissed “Wheesht!” at Johnny to make him shut up, glancing back at the pretty lady. “Don't be disrespectful,” he added.

Johnny chuckled, ever amused at the fact that his Scottish vernacular was infecting the Englishman. He leaned forward, resting a hand on his knee, continuing to smirk, “Since when did ye care about respect, huh?” 

Simon inhaled sharply, since he was getting increasingly impatient with Johnny and at the fact that he was running out of arguments. It was also a bit hard to argue in a place where you're supposed to be quiet. 

“Just go already. I cannae see ye looking so stupid like this. The worst she can say is ‘fuck off’.” Johnny shrugged. 

Simon shot his friend and unimpressed look, making Johnny snort. “That is the worst thing she can say, you wanker,” he said, now mechanically rising from his chair. 

“Fuck off and get her number, ye gobshite, or else you'll just be wanking to her and not talking.” Johnny shook his head with a smirk and gave his friend a slap on the back as he passed him. Simon returned the gesture with a slap to the back of Johnny's head, particularly in annoyance at the latter part of his sentence. 

While Johnny whined quietly from how hard a slap he had been dealt with, Simon's attention was drawn when he heard her voice again, sounding a little agitated. His head whipped towards her table, and yet again, she was being hit on by some guy, and clearly looked like she was uncomfortably fighting back his unwanted advances. 

Simon glared at the man as he began his march. “If only she had a boyfriend by her side, a guard dog…” he thought to himself as he speedily, yet calmly stepped over to her table. 

He went around some tables and emerged behind the man, towering over him. Before Simon was noticed by her, his hand came down heavily on the man's shoulder, making him flinch. Leaning down, he whispered as the man turned to face him, “What business do you have with my girlfriend?” 

The man was met with Simon's glaring eyes that meant serious business. He froze up immediately. 

“Babe, he was trying to hit on me even though I told him I wasn't interested,” the lady's voice resounded, and a quick glance at her told Simon that her eyes glimmered with recognition. 

The “babe” made his knees weak for a moment, but he shook off the feeling and continued to glare at the man. No more words were needed. He immediately stood up from his seat and strode away, apologising without sincerity. When he was finally earshot, she sighed. 

“You alright, love?” asked Simon with gentleness unusual to him, glancing around again to make sure the man was nowhere in sight. 

“Yeah, I'm fine,” she sighed, also looking in the direction the man left. She looked back at him and smiled brightly, “But what a coincidence. We meet again, Simon.” 

“And I'm mighty chuffed about it.” he thought to himself as he nodded in response. “Funny coincidence, really. My friend and I were just about to leave on a small road trip and the rain,” he shook his head and clicked his tongue as he looked at the windows, “it rained on our parade, I guess.”

The unintentional pun made her giggle. Simon normally had a grip on his emotions, but that damned giggle threw off his train of thought. But regaining himself, he continued, “So we took shelter here, and I saw you. Thought I'd come talk and then I heard that guy trying to make a pass at you.”

She motioned to the chair for him to sit down, which he instantly did; he cursed himself for seeming so eager. 

“You heard?” she asked with emphasis. 

“Yeah?” he nodded, slightly confused as to why she zeroed in on that word in particular. “I was looking elsewhere, and then I heard you.”

She then glanced at her laptop for a moment and then pulled the screen down slightly so he wouldn't see what was on. As she did, she said, “I see. I'm lucky you came just then because I was having a hard time driving him away.”

“I could tell,” he answered slowly. He then decided to change the subject. “You come here often?” 

“Yeah, every day. This place is calm and quiet and the atmosphere helps me work.”

“What's your job?” 

“I'm an author.” 

“An author?” he blinked in surprise. He didn't expect that. “What do you write about?” 

“Fantasy and adventure… With a hint of romance.” She grabbed her tote that was on the table and pulled out a book from it, which she showed him. “This is my first published book.” 

“No kidding?” He took the book in my hand. It was titled ‘Firefly Trails’, embossed in gold. The cover was matte, showing a dark forest trail dotted with glossy fireflies and their greenish yellow light. Below the title was her name, and he read it in his mind slowly, his eyes spending more time taking it in more than anything else on the cover. 

“New York Times Bestseller.” he recited, smirking as he eyed the epithet on the top of the cover, “Don't they slap this on every book?” 

“They do, but this actually did pretty well in New York.”

“So you're famous then?” 

“Kind of?” 

“Tell me your Instagram handle, I'll need to see for myself.” Simon pulled out his phone and looked at her, waiting for her to tell him. 

She did. He immediately typed it out on the search bar and while he did, he rested his elbow on the table, holding his arm upright. His neck was craned upward slightly, and the lady couldn't help but stare at the way his Adam's apple moved as he gulped, and the way the sternocleidomastoid muscle tightened and popped from under his fair skin as he moved his neck. 

Her analytical, authorly eyes scanned him keenly, soaking in all she could make of his facial features; at his icy blond hair, short and styled in an undercut; his long eyelashes, his shapely eyebrows, his slightly pink cheeks under the black mask, the way his brown eyes reflected against the blue light of the phone screen; it was all a sight to behold. He was saying something, but her mind was so lost in trying to mentally string words together to describe the view in front of her in the most superfluous manner possible, in hopes that this information would be used in her future works. 

“Hey, you really are famous. You got quite a tonne of followers.” Simon, who was highly aware of her shameless staring, somehow managed to interrupt her flow of thought. 

She was successfully brought back to Earth from her daydream, and she nodded, now embarrassed to have been caught red-handed. He thankfully made no comment on it, not wanting to make things awkward.

She answered, “I suppose so. But they're not as many as bigger authors. I'm not complaining, though. I'm really happy to have a lot of people liking my work.”

“You're too modest,” he said, and she could see his cheeks rise to his eyes just a wee bit behind his mask, indicative of a smile. He now showed her her Instagram page on his phone. “There, I followed you,” he said, pointing at the grey ‘Following’ button.

“Are you sure? You don't look like the type of person who reads or is interested in author updates.” A slightly teasing smirk tugged the corner of her lips. 

Simon chuckled and shook his head slightly, making his short hair swish a little; she took notice of it. “I'm a voracious reader,” he bragged, lying through his teeth, even using a fancy word to make it more convincing. 

She smiled, clearly not quite convinced, but decided to humor him anyway. “If you are, then that book is a gift for you.” She glanced at the copy resting on his lap. 

“No kidding?” he blinked as he took the book in his hand to gaze at it. “Well, since you're so famous, I think I should get your autograph.” he said, and she could see one of his cheeks raised; an unmistakable smirk. 

“Oh, come on, you're making me blush,” she giggled, but took the book anyway.

"My intentions exactly," he thought as he watched her grab a pen and start writing on the first page. 

His phone buzzed a message in the meantime, and he took the device to have a look. It was Johnny. He glanced at the other end of the cafe at his friend, and found him staring, finishing the last sips of his coffee. 

Johnny MacTavvy: oi yer tea's getting cauld 

Johnny MacTavvy: Rain's stopped too. Let's go 

Simon now looked out the glass windows and the rain had indeed stopped, and a bit of sunlight was peeking through the cloudy skies. He sighed, not wanting to go just yet, but knowing Johnny wouldn't let him tarry any longer, he quickly typed a reply, which Johnny saw immediately. 

Fuckin’ Brit: ok 

By the time Simon kept his phone in his pocket, the lady finished her autograph and handed the book to him. “Enjoy.” She smiled. 

Simon murmured a “Thanks” as he received the book, and then rose from his seat. 

“Leaving already?” she asked, looking a little disappointed. 

“Yeah, my friend's annoying me to finish my tea so we can be on our way. The rain's stopped now, so…”

“Okay,” she nodded slightly, glancing out the windows to confirm for herself. Looking back at him, she smiled again, “Take care then.” 

“You too,” he inhaled. “Make sure you don't get hit on again,” he said, attempting to be casual and funny, but he felt like his attempt turned out to be so stupid. 

She shook her head, scoffing and smiling. “I'll be fine.” 

He was relieved that the attempt landed safely despite the turbulence, and he sighed. “Right then, I'll see you inna bit, love.” 

“See you, Simon.” 

He nodded once at her and then strode back to Johnny, feeling his knees get weaker by the second. He managed to reach his table and practically fell down in his seat. 

“Well?” asked Johnny with a smirk as he leaned forward and eyed the book in Simon's hand. “She gave ye a gift, I see.” 

“She's an author. Her first book.” Simon answered, handing him the book so he could see it. 

“For real?” Johnny took the book and flipped through the pages. The autograph on the first page caught his attention and he read it. His eyes widened slightly and he closed the book, returning it to his friend, who was drowning the lukewarm tea. “He completely forgot, didnae he, this bastard.” Johnny muttered under his breath, smirking. 

“What was that?” asked Simon, setting down the teacup. 

“Nothing. Let's go.” 

The two paid for their drinks and as they stepped out the door, Simon glanced back at her, and saw that she was also looking at him over her shoulder. This time, he felt a bit fluttery in his stomach. She waved at him with another of those pretty smiles and he waved back, already feeling his knees go weak again. 

The two turned away and exited the book cafe. While Johnny wiped the rainwater off the motorcycle, Simon took a moment to see what she had written as an autograph. 

“Dear Simon, thank you for saving me twice. I hope you enjoy the book,” was written, and along with that was her name and signature.

Below that was written in unmistakably bold and clear letters, “Call me,” along with her number. 

Simon felt like he had been struck by lightning. His face turned alarmingly red and hot to the point that he scrambled to pull his hood over to hide himself. “Fuck me…” he mumbled his exclamation as he processed this very clear green light from her. It was unbelievable. 

In the meantime, the lady herself  couldn't believe this whole thing just happened. He happened to be there, came up to her, saved her, and swooped her off her feet the second time. It was an amazing coincidence, a once in a lifetime incident, something straight out of a novel. And being an author, she couldn't let this go. She just had to shoot her shot by slapping her phone number in the autograph and now hope that he would call her.

But if there was one thing that sold her completely, it was the fact that he heard that she was in trouble, and came to her rescue. 

Feeling a flutter in her chest, she looked back at her laptop screen. A Google search result was displayed in bold:

“The name Simon means ‘to hear’.”

End of Part 2.

Part 3

[mooncalvin]

Across the hall (pt. 2)

Summary: just George and you getting to know each other a bit better.

Warnings: pure smut. Choking kink, Dom!George, and much more.

Words: 4k

A/n: I'll leave this here and go back to my cave. I just finished uni and now I have much more time for writing so let's just see how it goes. Hope you like this very much!

A few days later you two meet at the same caffee of the last time.

“So what about Georgie?”

You flush once again “I mean, he is really nice, I don’t really know much about him”

“It’s not like you have to know an awful lot of someone to want to fuck them” she stated “By the way, I think he likes you too, we went to see him on Tuesday and he couldn’t shut up about you and your paintings, and he isn’t really an artsy guy, you know?”

“But before this , he barely even looked at my direction, I’m sure he didn’t even know I existed” 

“Girl! The only reason I went for sugar to your house is because he said you looked nice and didn’t want to go by himself, we weren’t even baking a cake” her answer took you by surprise.

“Lily!”

You kept talking to her as the days went by, you were more similar than what you would’ve thought. But he wouldn’t stop bringing up George, dead-set on getting you two together.

You haven’t seen him since the last interaction at your apartment one week ago. So you were surprised when you saw him knocking at your door.

“Hi” you greeted him, failing to hide your smile “is there anything you need”.

“Not really” he answered “I thought it was only fair to invite you for coffee at my place since you invited me the other day.” he proposed to you shyly.

“Sure I would love to,” you said enthusiastically.

You walked to his flat, very different from yours, sober and modern style, almost impersonal, probably because he has recently moved in. You smiled when you saw some of his helmets and pictures of a much younger him from when he was in the lower racing categories. 

“You were cute here��� he smiled as a red layer covered his cheeks.

“Well, do you want to sit down? I can put on a movie or something while I prepare the drinks” he muttered.

“Yeah, sure”. After a while he returns and sits next to you, fairly close to you, but not enough. Neither of you started a conversation at first, feeling a bit awkward. It’s him who breaks the silence.

“How is your artwork coming?” you turn to him to answer.

“I finished the piece I was working on when you visited, now I’m working on a personal piece.” he hummed and turned his gaze to the tv. A while after, you turn your head to discover him already looking at you. This man has to be interested in you, right? The looks he’s been giving to you since you’ve entered his apartment screaming “I’m thinking about fucking you right now”. He wouldn’t be smirking and staring at you if he didn’t want to sleep with you. But were you going to act on it? Hell no.

“So, you are a formula one driver” you stated.

“I am indeed” he answered.

“And how is it?” you asked, genuinely curious about it.

“Well, I’ve been racing all my life and formula one is the top of racing, so it feels like an actual dream but it also has its flaws. I don’t really like all of the press stuff and how paparazzis and magazines intrude into your private life, ” he said. You bite your lip while listening to him.

“If you don’t stop biting your lip like that I don't know how much more I could control myself” he mutters so quietly that you almost can’t hear him, but you do. Your eyes go wide as you freeze, watching how he licks his lips as he approaches you “God I want to fuck you so bad.”

All the breath leaves your body, heat rushing to your core. Your cheeks are bright red, heart shaking as you look at him. 

He actually wants you. He wants to fuck you.

All you can do is look at him, muttering a quiet “George…” Before he is leaning over you, body pressing against yours, lips so close that you can feel his hot breath, hands gripping your chin. You can feel the slight hardness poking at your stomach so you look down briefly before looking into his eyes again. 

George’s blue eyes stare into yours, watching your every movement. Your lips are practically brushing each other. And his hand goes to your hip, pressing you close to him. A moan escapes your mouth before his lips are fully into yours, silencing you. 

It takes you a second to respond to the kiss. But then you feel his lips move against your and follow, kissing him with passion. Your hands come up to hold onto him. One pressing against his cheek and the other on the back of his head, so you can run it through his hair. He presses you harder against him as his other hand goes to your hair tugging it, leaving your neck uncovered, so he can start to kiss it and bite it.

He lets out a little moan when you pull his hair to bring your lips together again. 

One of his hands moves up to your neck, wrapping around it and adding a light pressure. You take his bottom lip with your teeth , pulling back and biting down lightly before pulling away from his lips entirely.

He stares down at you, hand wrapped around your neck as you pant and whine, legs wrapped around him squeezing while you attempt to grind into him.

“Do you like it rough sweet girl?” A laugh escapes him, fingers pressing into your throat a little tighter for a moment, you moan out, nodding your head.

Right now you feel like you’ve never before, relinquishing all your control to George as your mind goes fuzzy and your pussy gets wetter.

Both of you moan when George grinds his cock straight into you, the friction scratching right against your clit.

He buries his head into your neck befores going upwars, his mouth coming to rest beside your ear.

“I’m going to take you into my room and I’m going to eat this pussy before fucking you raw. Is that alright darling?” your pussy clenches as  and your head is nodding before he grabs you under your thighs and picks you up, walking through his apartment towards his bedroom.   

You bounce on the bed when he throws you down, giggling while you lay there and stare at him.

He stands at the end of the bed, tall and imposing.

You watch as he takes off his t-shirt, his body skinny but full of muscle, wanting nothing more than to rip the rest of his clothes, but he is quicker as he grabs your legs and slides you down the bed.

“Do you want this sweetheart?” he stares down at you with a smirk, palming his erection through his trousers. You glance at him, nodding your head. “Words, darling”

“Yes,” you mutter.

“Yes what? Your eyebrows furrow, and you take a moment comprehending what you heard before you realise. 

“Yes sir” you practically moan.

He lets out a groan at your words, hands rushing to undo your belt and take off your trousers, sliding them down your legs, leaving you in only your panties.

You’re grateful that you didn't choose to wear your teddy bear panties, maybe you knew that something like this could happen.

George moans when he sees your soaked underwear, a hand reaching your covered pussy. You whine and move your hips up, only hoping that he would do something else. “George…” Suddenly he is rushing to pull your pants down your legs, spreading them and throwing them over his shoulders as he kneels in front of you.

You lay there in anticipation as George lays open mouthed kisses on your thighs. He continues to tease you, coming closer to your core before moving away. Your whine at the teasing.

“So desperate for me, aren’t you?” When you look down at him, he’s still looking at you, lips puffy from all the kisses you shared. “If you beg me I might just consider going further love” he says before nipping the skin of your thigh. 

Your legs tighten around his head “Please, George, please, I need it so bad”. He scoffs against your leg, a hand going up to caress your ass gently, before laying a smack onto it, making your hips buck into him.

“I don’t think I remember what I told you to call me, was it that?” He says sharply.

“Please sir…” you let out another whine as he licks a strip up your pussy, getting the attention you needed.

“You taste so good, sweet girl” he says before diving back and running his tongue all the way to your clit, sucking it.

You moan out, and your hands fly to tangle in his hair and pull. He lets out a moan and brings an arm to hold your hips down, continuing his duty.

You cannot stop moaning, a pressure building up your lower stomach as he continues with his torment.

He fucks you with his tongue, his nose digging into your clit, one of his hands harshly gripping onto your thighs as they rest on his shoulders. All you can do is look down and watch him, eyes almost closed because of the pleasure.

His hand releases your leg and comes to your pussy, one of your fingers sliding into it, making your grip on his hair tighten. 

He puts another one not long after, curving both of them, hitting the spot that makes you see stars. He pulls his face away from you for a moment, his fingers still fucking you as he looks up at you, his chin covered in your slick. Your walls clench around his fingers, making him let out a laugh, motivating him to do it harder.

“Such a dirty little whore, aren’t you?” you tighten around his fingers as he says it, making him laugh again “You like that, don’t you? My little slut” you let out a moan indicating that you are going to come soon.

“I-I’m going to come” you stutter, not being able to form a coherent sentence.

“Yeah baby? Are you going to soak my fingers like the dirty girl you are?” you feel as he adds a third one, stretching you.

You moan as a confirmation, and he leans down again, sucking you hard as he continues pounding his fingers into you.

You feel your stomach pull tighter, as your release comes, moaning his name as you cum. Your legs shake, back arching as the pleasure invades you. That doesn’t make him stop, as he continues licking you through your orgasm.

He pulls away from your pussy, and lets his hand to his mouth, tasting your release as he lets out a moan.

He stands up fully, towering over you once again as you lay in bed, recovering from the orgasm that has just hit you.

You come back to earth as you feel him grab your waist and hike you up the bed, resting your head on one of the pillows that lies there. Then he dives down to connect your lips and your hands go up to wrap around his shoulders, nails digging into them. You continue to kiss as he grinds his erection over your pussy. You shake at the overstimulation, whining when his lips leave your mouth. You open your eyes to see him hovering over you, smirk on his face.

“From the moment I saw you I knew I had to ruin you” he says, eyes dark with lust. You moan at his words.

“Please fuck me George” you mutter, pulling him back down and kissing him fiercely. He pins your wrists to the bed, taking control.

He pulls away, releasing your arms and pulling you up so he can pull your shirt off, admiring your breasts in your bra before removing it. He pushes you back down and starts laying kisses across your chest until he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking it lightly and pinching the other one with his hand. You moan, your hips grinding on him and hands on his hair as he continues to lap at your breasts, switching between them.

He pulls away and stares at you for a moment, “I’m going to fuck you so hard” he says before pulling away undoing his pants so he can push them and his underwear down, revealing his cock to you.

He’s actually bigger than you expected, precum dripping from his tip. You can’t help but moan at the sight as your legs open on their own, almost like a reflex, exposing yourself to him again.

He laughs at your eagerness. “You don’t mind if I fuck you raw, do you, love?” you shake your head quickly.

“Please I need to feel you inside me” You whine, becoming desperate for him. He smirks at you as he climbs the bed, crawling on top of you, getting himself between your legs, dragging his cock across your wet folds, making you leave a moan as he brushes your clit.

He grabs your legs, pushing them up slightly as he holds himself up on top of you, guiding the tip to your hole, pushing it slightly.

Both of you moan, your back arched at the feeling and your eyes closed. But they shoot open when you feel George wrapping one of his hands around your throat, adding a light pressure “that’s right babygirl” he whispers “keep your eyes open for me”.

Then he begins pushing in, your walls squeezing him as you struggle to keep your eyes open, gasping.

He mumbles a “fuck” and keeps pushing in, hand squeezing your throat slightly.

“Oh George…” you whine when he bottoms out, him fully inside you.

The feeling is just amazing. The stretch of his dick and the feeling of his hand around your throat sends you into a state of bliss, making you struggle to keep your eyes open.

George is not much better, his eyes are also closed as he refrains himself not to start pounding into you like some kind of animal, wanting to give you a second to adjust to his size before fucking you fully.

His eyes are open when he hears you mutter a little “please”. And he looks at your face as you stare up at him, begging him to move and fuck you.

He doesn’t waste a second, pulling out of you before sliding back in.

You both moan at the same time and he begins pushing in and out of your cunt, picking up his pace.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and your hands come to grab his wrist as he continues to choke you, slowing your breathing in the most delightful way.

The coil is back on your stomach, this time faster than before. The feeling of his cock pushing against your walls is just as good as you had imagined, maybe even better.

You stare up at him as he pounds into you, his pace picking up as your eyes catch his. He slides the hand that was at your throat down your body until it reaches your clit, rubbing it.

“Open your mouth” he suddenly says. You can’t help but be confused, not really understanding why you should open your mouth, but you do it anyway. You watch as he spits in your mouth. “Swallow it”. You do it immediately, your pussy squeezing as he lets out a “good girl” after.

He lets out another moan before pulling out of you.

You whine at the emptiness, hands going to his arms before he’s grabbing you and flipping you over onto your stomach, grabbing your hips and pitching them up, hips in the air and face buried in the pillows.

George grabs onto your ass, kneading it before leaning down and biting you, spanking you after you let a little moan. “You’re just the perfect girl for me”. You hear him mutter before his hands go to your hips and he starts pushing his cock into you again, making you moan happily.

Now he goes pounding into you, pace fast and rough as he fucks you into the bed.

His cock glides in and out of you, the occasional smack on your ass as you moan out.

You feel so close to coming. “Harder George please!”, you call out, painting and gripping onto the sheets tight as his trusts get harder.

He grabs your hair, pulling until you’re leaning up on your knees, your back to his chest, hitting deeper with each thrust. You moan together, and you turn your face to his, your lips connecting in a sloppy but passionate kiss. Your hand cradles his head, the other grabbing his side, as he continues to fuck up into you.

You feel the coil tighten and tighten, bringing you closer to relief. And as if he had read your mind, George’s hand comes to your clit, making you cum all over him.

You moan loudly, body trembling as he continues to fuck you, your hand pullin his hair tightly, even louder when you feel the heat of his cum fill you as he comes inside of you, his own moans mixing with yours as he connects your lips again.

You keep kissing as you come down from your highs. Breaths steadying when you pull away from each other.

You stare into his eyes as he stares into yours, the both of you panting. A smile makes its way into your lips, one forming in his no long after. One of his hands comes to cradle the back of your head, pulling you into him to kiss you again.

He then slowly pulls his cock out of your pussy, making you whine at the feeling, already missing him. He gives you a short peck and helps you lay down on the bed before pulling away from you entirely.

“I’ll come back in a moment, love” he says. You nod and close your eyes as you feel the exhaustion creepin into you.

You don’t even know how long it went until George gets back. You feel him spread your legs a little before a wet cloth is cleaning away the cum that pools your pussy. You half open your eyes and watch him, a dizzy smile on your face at his caring actions.

He glances at you when he’s done, climbing back into bed next to you.

He pulls you into him, pulling you to rest onto his chest. You wrap your arm around him, squeezing harder when you hear his heart beating faster.

You feel him lean down and press a kiss to your head, sighing in contentment at the moment.

After what could have been hours but were just a few minutes settling after your littler encounter, you pull away from him a little bit, leaning up as you look at him, him looking back at you. A small smile rests on his face, and you lean forward to press a kiss to his lips, humming with joy as his lips press back.

When you pull away you look back at him.

It’s now or never.

“Would you go on a date with me?” you ask him, anxiety crippling.

He can’t help but laugh at your question.

“I’d love to go on a date with you”.

Taglist: @mysticalnightenthusiast @vildetry06 @rens-daylight

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

I'm not me anymore (and maybe you're not you)

love is not designed for the cynical - series masterlist here

pairing: jason todd x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.6k

genre: hurt/comfort, angst (happy ending)

warnings: reader is almost mugged and has zero self-preservation instincts but everything works out, jason doesn't know how to handle being in love, lots of talk of reader grieving jason after his death but it's fine because he's back, reader is vaguely / generally physically unwell

a/n: is this too similar to my dick grayson story? probably but we'll all just have to deal with that, tell me you still like it or I'll cry

It's late - too late for someone like you to be outside in Gotham. But sleep was hard to come by for you and working through the night meant regular trips to the bodega around the corner. You walked back to your apartment complex slowly, stepping one foot pointedly in front of the other as you sipped your energy drink. 

You heard Jason's voice in your head as you walked, slipping into an alley that provided a handy shortcut. 'Avoid the back alleys,' he'd said. 'I want you to be safe.'

And then you died, you thought bitterly. And now you're here but you won't actually be here for me and I had to learn to keep myself safe. And, my god, I'm tired of being safe.

Maybe it was stupid, the way you slouched against the brick wall and took a swig of your drink as the man stood in front of you, knife blade gleaming in the darkness and voice spitting threats and not-so requests for your money. 

You didn't even have a chance to respond, though, before Redhood himself dropped down behind him and put him down.

Jason. Jason. Jason.

But it wasn't Jason who walked towards you, you thought wearily. It was Redhood. And he was angry.

"You didn't even wait for the fun part," you drawled and his fists clenched.

"I'm walking you home," he said gruffly before turning and stomping down the alley, leaving you to follow him.

The two of you stopped by the entrance of your apartment building and you looked up at him, waiting for him to either talk or flee.

"You know you shouldn't be out this late. You're being reckless," he says stiffly.

"I want to talk to you," you respond. "Properly… preferably when I can see your face."

"I'm… working right now."

"Well yes," you sigh, "but presumably you stop at some point. Come by after. Please. I'll only ask you for this one thing." He straightens at that, a surprised sort of gesture, before reaching his hand towards you as if to cup your cheek the way he so often used to. He seemed to think better of it halfway through, though, as he let his hand drop back to his side.

"You can always ask me for what you need. I'm here. I'll… I'll be here."

"So be here. Whenever you're done, come by. I'll be awake." You don't let him respond to that, slipping through the door of your building and pointedly not looking back.

Just as you'd promised, by the time Redhood is standing on your balcony tapping gently on the glass, you're still awake. You look up from your laptop and gesture for him to come in, and he does, pulling his helmet off and sliding the glass door closed behind him before pointedly locking it.

"You shouldn't leave that unlocked. Anyone could get in here," he scolds as he comes to stand in front of you, eyeing the way you sit straight-backed on your couch.

You shrug. "It doesn't bother me." Jason opens his mouth to respond as his fists clench, and your eyes flicker to the duffle bag he has slung across his shoulder.

"You can shower first if you want," you say, nodding your head towards your hall. "I'm in no rush." Jason doesn't move, though. He stands, his eyes tracing over you silently in a way that makes you lean back from his gaze.

"You haven't slept yet?" he asks.

"Neither have you," you shoot back. He huffs and tightens his grip on the helmet in his hand.

"I'll be quick," is all he offers before stomping down your hallway towards your bathroom.

Sure enough, it's not long before he's padding back into your living room, t-shirt and sweats replacing his Redhood gear and hair damp and curling. You close your laptop and set it on the coffee table when he comes in, sitting across from you on the couch.

"Should I start?" you say quietly. "Or do you want to?"

"I'm sorry," he offers gently, and you feel the air leave your lungs a bit. "I'm sorry I didn't come for you when I got back. I'm sorry you had to be the one to call Bruce and find out what happened from him. I just…"

"It's ok, Jay." Your smile is small and sad and makes Jason's fingers twitch in an effort not to reach for you. "I left. I never expected you to chase me. And I didn't… I took my time coming back, you know. It's ok."

"Are you… back?" Jason asks tentatively, shifting where he sits. "Are you staying?"

You shrug. "I bought an apartment, didn't I?"

"That's not an answer."

"Well, I didn't call you here to talk about my life plans."

"What do you want to talk about, then?"

"I just… want to know what you want from me?"

"What?" Jason asks, bewilderment clear in his voice. "What do you mean?"

"Come on, Jay," you sigh. "I know you're around, watching me, looking out for me. But… I've been back in Gotham for a month and that's all you've done. I just want to know what you want."

Jason sights, a little oh escaping his lips as he slumps down into the couch cushions. 

"Nothing changed for me," he explains quietly, keeping his eyes trained on the empty space between the two of you. "There was you, always, and then I died. I came back… and it was still you. It wasn't… it hadn't been three years for me. Not really."

"I understand," you soothe gently.

"But - for you it was. For you, three years had passed and your boyfriend was dead and you moved away and I - I had to assume that was so you could build a new life for yourself and… I was there. I heard you on the phone that night with Bruce, saying you missed Gotham with or without me." You inhale sharply at Jason's words and he looks at you with big eyes.

"Hey, no -" he says quickly. "I'm not mad, baby. Never. I'm never mad at you. I just… I thought maybe you'd moved on. It would make sense for you to move on. But then you came back and I saw you and…" Jason trails off, looking you up and down again and you can't help but shrink back ever so slightly, aware of the ways in which you'd deteriorated since he'd been gone.

"I was just so worried about you," he continued. "I wanted to look out for you, that's all. I understand if you've moved on and don't love me anymore - really, I do. But I… I still love you. And I just - I want you to be safe. That's all."

You stare at him after that, letting him shift around in apprehension while your eyes get wide and your bottom lip trembles.

"Oh, Jason," you whisper before reaching out to him. He makes a small, alarmed sound at the tears that have begun dripping down your cheeks and pulls himself towards you instead of letting you reach out into empty space. His heart thumps painfully in his chest as he considers just how many times over the past three years you reached out into nothing, wishing he was there for you to hold on to.

"Hey…" he says gently as you pull him closer, hands fisting his t-shirt and face buried in his neck. He smoothes a hand over your hair and wraps the other around your waist, anchoring you to him as he feels hot tears on his skin where your face is pressed against him.

"You're an idiot," you mumble against him and he huffs out a quiet laugh. You pull away from him and he reluctantly lets you, holding your hips tightly as you stare at him, cupping his face firmly in your hands to make sure he looks at you.

"There was never an after you, Jay," you say, voice warbling slightly with more unshed tears. "It was always, always you. Forever. I'm… I'm sorry I ran away." 

"Well," Jason drawls, but you don't miss the thickness in his own voice and the way his eyes blink back tears. "In your defence, people usually stay dead longer than I did." You huff at that, a smile twitching against the corners of your mouth as you lean back into him. You bury your face back into his neck and hum appreciatively as his arms wrap back around you, holding you tightly to him.

"I'm sorry for acting like that in the alley," you murmur against his skin and he drops a kiss on the top of your head.

"Don't apologize for that, baby. You always have been tough on the outside."

"Yea but you did all that work to get through it when we first got together," you whined. "Now it's gone."

"No way," Jason responds lightly. "This, right here," he continues as he tightens his arms around you, "this is it, sweetheart. And besides… nothing would make me happier than getting to know you again."

"Yea?" your voice is cautious in a way that makes Jason tenderly pull your head away from his neck so he can press kisses across your face.

"Yea," he says sweetly. "Neither of us are the people we used to be, and we both know that. It'll take some time for us to relearn each other."

"Yea," you sigh. "I guess it will."

"Aw, cheer up baby," he says gently. "This is the good part. How lucky is it that we get to do it all over again, huh?"

"Yea," you say, the faintest hint of a laugh leaving your lip and making Jason's heart swell in his chest. "It's nice to have this back."

"Yea it is baby," Jason agrees as he cups your cheek in one of his hands, guiding your lips to his. "It's nice to have this back."

[photogirl894]

“Do not go far from me.”/”I won’t.” With a protective/ jealous Wrecker ❤️

Aw, my dear Wrecker! 😊 Hope this is to your liking, anon!

"A Change in Price"

1. “Do not go far from me.”/”I won’t.”

Pairing: Wrecker x fem reader

***

It was just another mission to get more intel for Cid, but somehow, you and the Bad Batch always managed to deal with the shadiest of people. Cid certainly kept questionable company, but that wasn't surprising.

You, Wrecker and Hunter were walking into a seedy bar on another planet to meet with a client while Tech, Echo and Omega were stationed outside in case things went south. You didn't like the unsavory way a lot of the men in the bar were staring at you...and neither did Wrecker.

Seeing how uncomfortable you looked, his arm came protectively around your shoulders and he pulled you closer to him. "I've got you, don't worry," he reassured you. .

You inched a little closer to him and pleaded quietly, "Do not go far from me."

With a comforting squeeze, he promised you, "I won't."

Normally, you did okay on missions on your own, but something about this place gave you a really bad feeling.

Finally, you guys found the client: a Zabrak male who was sitting at a booth cleaning his blaster.

"We're here for Cid's intel," Hunter said straightforwardly to the Zabrak. Then he signaled with his head to Wrecker to give the client the money he was owed.

Wrecker lifted the case he had in his other hand, removed his arm from your shoulders and opened it up, revealing the vast amount of credits inside. Then he set the case on the table and slid it towards the client.

The Zabrak eyed the case for a moment before taking a data disc. However, instead of handing it to Hunter, he held it back and stated, "Actually...there's been a change in the price for this information."

"What?" Hunter asked, taken aback.

The man leaned forward, a malicious grin on his face...as he turned his sights on you. "I want the money...and the girl."

Wrecker's arm immediately shot out and moved you behind him as he glared threateningly at the client.

"She's not part of the deal," said Hunter, his own tone growing darker.

"That's my price," said the Zabrak. "No girl, then no intel. Take it or leave it."

Hunter tried working a way around this deal in his head. They needed this intel for Cid or else she wouldn't give them the money they needed for more supplies, which they were dangerously low on, but there was no way he was giving you to this man. He would never do that in a million years. But what could they do? If they started a fight, then the whole bar would get involved and he wanted to be as discreet about this as possible. They could pretend to give you away, but that could potentially break your trust in them and he wouldn't do that to you either. Maybe they could--

"You can take your deal and shove it where the sun don't shine."

Both you and Hunter heard Wrecker's declaration and, to both your shock and Hunter's, Wrecker had taken one step forward and thrown a hard punch in the Zabrak's face before the guy could even react. The client slumped over on the table, unconscious.

You quickly jumped forward and pulled the data disc out of the Zabrak's hand while Hunter just looked to Wrecker, his disbelief apparent even with his helmet on.

"What? He deserved it," Wrecker justified. "No one threatens our girl like that."

Hunter just shook his head and, since the guy was out cold, decided he didn't really need the money, so the Sergeant picked the case back up and told you and Wrecker that it was time to go.

Before you went after Hunter, you took Wrecker's hand and told him, "Thank you for that, Wrecker."

He smiled. "How was I supposed to keep my promise to not go far from you if you get taken away?" he asked. Then he leaned down and kissed your forehead. "No one's ever gonna take you away from me. I've always got you."

In that moment, you'd never felt safer or more loved.

Photogirl894's Fluff/Romance prompts

Photogirl894's 1,300 Followers celebration fics

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Hi! Sorry, I'm new here 😊 congrats on your follower milestone!!

May I please request prompts 17 and 34 with my beloved Sergeant, Hunter? 🥰🥰

Thank you so much! Looking forward to seeing what you come up with 💜

@photogirl894 Hello love,

I know I said I'd probably wouldn't have time today, but turns out I had enough time to write this one out quickly. I hope you like it. I actually quite enjoyed this one.

Love oo,

Too Close

Warnings: Explosions, blaster fire, falling from a height, injuries, blood, shrapnel, medical procedure, angst, fluff, comfort, hurt. I think that's it, if I miss any please let me know.

Italics - Flashback

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

Hunter let out a sigh of relief as you both made it on board the Marauder. His eyes flitted over to your face, you were still unconscious, knocked out from the loss of blood, you’d be stirring soon according to Tech, but it wasn’t making his anxiety calm down. He couldn’t help wondering if there was something he could’ve done differently.

The fog from the explosions, dust and debris was getting beyond bearable, you couldn’t stop coughing as you hid behind the cargo crate. Your helmet had been shattered when you smashed it against the ground when your rappelling cable broke. Thankfully it was only when you were eight feet from the ground, but it could’ve been much worse than a broken helmet. 

Of course, it didn’t help that you were stuck hiding behind the crate with Hunter, because a piece of shrapnel embedded itself in your thigh, and was doing little to hamper the loss of blood. They always tell you to leave the shrapnel in, until you saw a medic, but at this point, you’d be lucky to just see the next twenty minutes. 

You pushed down hard on the wound, Hunter’s bandana doing little to help as he tried to wrap it around your thigh. 

“Hunter, leave me” you shouted over the explosions and blaster fire. These Separatist droids weren’t backing down. 

“Stop talking, it’ll make you pass out faster.”

“Hunter please!” You grabbed the lip of his chest plate and got him to look at you, “I can’t see you dying. So please, go!”

“I’m not dying and neither are you so stop distracting me and press on the wound!” His hand engulfed your thigh pressing down hard, stopping the trickle of blood that had pooled under your thigh. 

Before you could speak another rain of debris showered over you, Hunter pulled you under him as he shielded you with his torso. “Please… I can’t … I can’t see you get hurt because of me.” You pleaded to the man who held your heart and soul, your eyes welled up with tears as you looked at him, “Please, Hunt …”

His eyes widened, it was a nickname you reserved for him only during your quiet time together, only in the privacy of your quarters did you ever call him Hunt. You must have been in a really bad shape if his nickname slipped through your lips. 

“No! Listen, I don't care what happens to me. I'm not leaving you." He pressed his helmeted forehead against yours, as his now bloodied glove caressed your cheek, “I won’t. Now stay alive and stay awake. That’s all you have to do, Tech will get us out of here. So DON’T DIE ON ME! THAT’S AN ORDER SOLDIER!”

You chuckled at his demeanour, loving him all the more, “Yes, sir!” You saluted. 

He chuckled and focused back on the droids in front of him. He sent another ping to Tech, time was running out, he needed to get you to a medical facility soon. 

His eyes glanced back over to you, you were starting to stir. Your eyes fluttered open, as they looked around the Marauder for him, he gripped your hand, “Easy, easy. You’re safe.” His soft tone calmed you down. 

You squeezed his hand, as you looked him over, “Injuries?”

Hunter closed his eyes and shook his head, “I’m fine. Tech stopped the bleeding on your thigh and removed the shrapnel. We’re heading to a medical frigate now, you’ll be as good as new in a few days.” His hand reached up as the back of his fingers caressed your cheek. You closed your eyes and leaned into his hand.

“You didn’t leave.”

“I couldn’t.”

“But you could’ve been…”

“If you die, I’ll die right beside you. I’m not leaving you. Ever.”

You looked at him with a loving smile, and full of adoration in your eyes.

“What?” He chuckled.

You shook your head, as you looked at him smiling softly, “I just wanted to say thank you for protecting me.” You pressed a kiss to his fingers, “And that I love you.”

“I love you. But don’t ever do that to me again.” Tears welled up in his eyes, “I thought I was going to lose you out there…” his tone shifted as his breathing trembled, “I can’t lose you cyar’ika. I … I can’t …”

“Shhh, come here” You motioned for him to rest his head on your shoulder, as you hugged him close. It wasn’t the first time you’ve been injured but it certainly had been the closest you’ve ever been to shaking hands with death. You both held each other close, reminding each other you were still there. 

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[captain-mj]

So I got an idea I need to share-

Banshee Soap? I know Banshees are technically female but I'm just in love with the idea of Soap being a banshee in disguise and him having to reveal that in order to save Ghost or something-

Sorry I just needed to share this :)

I love this!! Sure! I feel it fix October vibes.

Ghost had heard the wailing of the spirits before. They were there the night Roba buried him alive. Howling and screaming at him. Wanting to get to him.

They had silenced once he had burst out of the dirt, but they had watched. He had no proof. Had not seen a damn thing. But he knew something was out there observing him. They had watched him shake each bug off of his skin.

He had heard men talk about the war as an entity. A being that screamed and called people to their deaths. Maybe they had been crazy. Ghost preferred that thought. Quite a bit actually.

But another part liked the guarantee that he wouldn't be dying alone. That no matter what, something would be out there for him. Watching him. Observing him.

Tonight, on this roof, he accepted that he'd hear those spirits again.

Soap sat next to him, guarding the entrances so Ghost could try to snipe who he could in relative safety. Someone kept trying to snipe him back, but they had just managed to hit the lip of the roof so far. But they were moving, making it hard to pinpoint where they were.

There were too many people. They weren't going to last forever. Ghost was running out of bullets. Soap's gun didn't have the range. The element of surprise had been lost hours ago.

He sighed. His biggest regret would be that Soap was going to die along with him.

Ghost refused to show fear though. "Just keep shooting Johnny. We'll get out of here."

Soap smiled at him. "Course we will, Lt. You're doi-"

A gunshot whizzed past their ears and Ghost quickly got back on his sniper. He sent a gunshot right through him, watching them fall down. Not the one that was moving, but they were a little safer. Ghost slowly let out a breath and relaxed.

Soap hesitated and looked at Ghost. "Lt?"

"Don't look at me like that. Just keep watching."

Soap frowned at him.

Someone whistled. Low and long.

Ghost heard the spirits.

"You religious, Johnny?"

"No."

"Neither am I. Guess neither of is going to pray."

Soap hesitated, stepping a little closer. "Sim-"

That sniper Ghost had been fighting with. The bullet went straight him. Blood splattered on the ground.

Soap stumbled but he didn't fall. He just stood there, blood dripping down. The next bullet went through his head and Ghost covered his face.

He didn't want to see.

How selfish.

But he didn't want to see.

The spirits. They screamed so loud and so long. Ghost scrambled to cover his ears and he tried to breath. Something was wrong. There was so much blood on the roof. It had to be an inch thick and it kept coming.

Ghost tried to stand up but the moment he wasn't covering his ears, pain would lance through him. The sound tried to drive itself all the way into his skull. Clawing his eardrums and worming its way into his brain until his temples were pounding.

The glass on his helmet fully shattered and Ghost started to scream himself. Anything to drown out the noise.

It started to hit him that Johnny was dead.

His partner.

His best friend.

Ghost screamed louder. Until the earth itself felt like it was tearing.

His hands felt wet.

Slowly, he started to pull his hands away, planning to just let his eardrums bust. Maybe let his brain hemorrhage.

Hands grabbed his and slammed them back over his ears. Someone straddled him, head butting against his so their foreheads sat together.

Ghost squeezed his eyes tighter and waited.

Time moved like honey through his fingers. Slow and languid but steady.

"Simon."

Ghost took a steady breath.

"Johnny?"

Soap was pressed them closer together. "Just breath. Your head must be killing you."

Ghost opened his eyes.

Soap was there. Gorgeous, but not solid.

Ghost stared.

"Sorry about that, Lt. Didn't mean to hurt you. Just keep your ears covered and keep your eyes on me."

Ghost shook his head slowly and looked.

Bodies. Dozens. Helmets shattered. Blood pooling out of the orifices in their face.

He tasted blood, realizing it was his own. Judging by the sun, hours had passed.

Ghost swallowed and shivered, feeling an intense cold.

Soap stood up, feet barely touching the ground. "Don't tell Price. Please."

"Kill me if I do?"

"Nae. Could never kill you Ghostie." Soap carefully helped Ghost get his helmet off. Broken shards of it falling out. He watched him lift his mask up and then off, blood smearing. "Let me get the blood out of your hair."

Ghost nodded and sipped the canteen of water he had on hand. Soap gently started to get the blood out of his hair. Gentle and loving. He kissed Ghost's forehead. "I'm sorry for hurting you. Are you okay?"

Ghost had a lot of feelings. Okay was not one of them.

"Yeah, I'm fine. What are you?"

"Banshee. There's a reason I never had a problem clearing out places when I was alone." Soap gently combed his fingers through his hair. "You're okay. I promise."

Ghost nodded and took a deep breath. "I'm okay..."

"You're okay." Soap said softly. "Try not to do this since usually it kills my companions but... I was pretty sure you'd be fine."

"Was dead anyway."

"Exactly. I had to take the risk. You'd either die or... maybe not die." Soap smiled at him.

Ghost nodded. "Glad you took the chance. Even if my ears are still ringing."

Soap laughed and offered his hand to help him up. They both stared for a moment.

Ghost realized he didn't have his mask and it must've showed.

"Don't worry. No living humans for miles. You're perfectly safe."

"There's you."

"Yeah. There's me."

Ghost took a deep breath, feeling it shudder in his chest. "anything I should know about banshees?"

"To see them usually brings misfortune, but I turned that off for you."

"Touching you is... fine?"

"Yeah, of course. Nothing different from before today."

Ghost nodded and slowly reached up. Soap went solid again beneath his fingers. He gently trailed his fingers over his cheek, smearing the blood.

Soap leaned up and kissed his cheek.

"Simon, we should be going. This is going to be hard to explain."

Ghost nodded and followed him.

He was pretty sure he'd never quite get rid of the tinnitus.

[cyb-by-lang]

Cascade (part 4)

And here we have the internship beginning.

(Kei notes some divergences from what happened in Shell Game in her narration as we go. For the most part, these can be attributed to having way less time to meet up with her teammates and get them acclimated to Japan.)

Sorry, Ingenium.

After saying goodbye to the other students at the Musutafu train station, neither Kei or Iida talked during the trip to Hosu City. 

While it wasn’t that uncommon for Kei to zone out completely on public transit, Iida would’ve said something out of politeness at the very least. There wasn’t that much of a crowd on the late morning train compared to either rush hour. They’d even both managed to find seats rather than clutching the overhead handles or the various vertical handholds. 

Instead, Kei dug a book out of her non-regulation backpack and read with her forearms leaning on her costume’s carry case. Every once in a while, she’d either shoot a deadly glare at someone trying to approach the more-recognizable Iida or look at her classmate in concern. The former scared off interlopers, while the latter had no apparent effect. 

Iida just sat there, like a super-tense robot. 

Kei wasn’t even as close to him as Midoriya and Uraraka were, so directly asking how Iida felt…didn’t quite work, in her head. She didn’t have the kind of rapport where she could just say what was on her mind. Or punch it out of him and remain friends after. That was a Gai thing. 

And we would not want that. 

Though guess being genuinely me could still go worse. With a sigh, Kei turned her attention back to her light novel. Hopefully, some fictional violence would take her mind off some of the impending actual violence for a while. 

Before she knew it, they were walking out into bright sunshine in a city Kei had patrolled once. Just not as herself.

Manual, the Normal Hero, turned out to be a plain-faced man with a generic ocean theme to his costume. His visored helmet even had a fin top, though nothing functional. Practical white boots, yellow gloves, and a skintight shirt divided evenly between blue and white rounded out the look. He greeted his case-toting interns with a smile and a wave and didn’t seem at all awkward about it. Manual didn’t seem to mind that Iida’s behavior and countenance was a little terse or that Kei tried to stay in Iida’s shadow all the way from the train station to his pro agency. 

While Kei’s counterfeit Quirk was stronger than his by orders of magnitude, Manual was really no weaker than the average Kiri-nin. Like most shinobi, he relied on water already present in his environment to do his work, but in a city, he was never that far from a fire hydrant. More importantly, operating in an urban environment usually gave him a lot of pro hero allies within shouting distance. 

For all intents and purposes, he was an ordinary pro hero with ordinary responsibilities in a city with a serious serial killer infestation. 

Kei felt kind of bad for him, because both of his interns brought ulterior motives along with their literal baggage. Not bad enough to confess to anything, of course, but the thought lingered.

“Well, now that you’ve both arrived safely, let’s get you situated.” Manual didn’t have the same kind of winning smile as, say, All Might, but he didn’t really need it. He beckoned them to follow him into the building. “To cut down on the commute somewhat, my agency will provide room and board for the week. We also have locker rooms so you can get changed quickly for our first patrol. Meal breaks may vary a little depending on what’s happening in the field, but we’ll take good care of you.” 

“Thank you, Manual-sensei,” Iida managed with a third of his usual bombast.  Still, he bowed. 

Kei clasped both hands over her costume case and mirrored him. “We’ll be sure to learn a lot from you this week, Manual-sensei.” 

“I have no doubt!” 

Kei’s borrowed room was smaller than her apartment’s bedroom, but it didn’t need to really be more than a cot and bathroom access to make her happy. Manual’s agency even had on-site laundry service, so the backpack she’d brought along would suffice for the entire week. Locking the door behind her, she quickly stripped out of her UA uniform and made the change to her “hero” costume. 

Unlike some hero students who a) thought out their requests and b) chose a company that could take criticism, Kei dreaded looking at what she’d be wearing for most of this week.  Even now, the design was a short, sleeveless kimono in dark blue wave patterns, long (unarmored) gloves that reached her biceps and only covered one finger apiece. It’d taken a round of angry revision notes to even get ultra-lightweight armor incorporated into the torso keep her vital organs covered. 

Maybe they’d only given ground because Kei destroyed the first iteration “by accident” during the USJ incident. She’d probably never know. It fell on the cot with a faint rattle, though, so at least the nano-whatever weave chainmail component was still there. 

Might as well get it over with. Kei took a deep breath and checked on the rest of the costume. 

While the boots included shinguards, the designers went with a tabi look for the actual shoe component. The pants appeared to be basically skintight swimming trunks, probably because her listed Quirk incorporated so much water manipulation. And for some fucking reason, there was an obi with a massive bow on the back, trailing behind her as she walked. Kei was going to trip and eat pavement because of that thing someday. 

Overall, what Kei pulled out of the case had barely been changed. She just got an extra belt with some pockets for stowing things like utility knives and little adhesive bandages for civilian boo-boos. 

When Kei inevitably did an about-face and started her career of villainy as Cascade, the City Drowner, she’d start with the support company and knock their building down brick by brick. Yes, a safer bet would be to go to UA’s Support Department and demand revisions from people who weren’t so obstinate, but it would be so satisfying. Vindictively. 

Still, she put it on. Including the hitai-ate that wasn’t Konoha’s. And the makeup to downplay her scar. The goal here was to appear as normal as possible—as a hero hopeful—to anyone observing her and not rock any boats. Certainly not literal ones, either. No matter how much looking at her reflection in the provided mirror felt wrong. 

“All right.” Kei clapped her hands together to shock herself awake. She closed her costume case and took a deep breath. “I can do this.” 

Kei emerged from her temporary quarters feeling as awkward as she had during the Sports Festival, but no longer concealed by her official gym uniform and a whole crowd of similarly-dressed kids. There was no more camouflage to be had. 

“Ah, Gekkō-san, right on time.” Manual got up from his desk and waved. “Once Iida-kun is ready to go, we can take on your first patrol as young hero-hopefuls.” 

“Thanks, Manual-sensei.” Kei crossed her arms as they settled in to wait for Iida in the agency’s lobby. It didn’t really help cover her discomfort, but it did make her feel slightly better. 

“Hm, that reminds me—what’s your hero name? I don’t remember seeing it on your paperwork.” 

“Oh. It’s, um, Cascade. The Mist Hero.” Ugh, I sound like such a fake. Kei managed to mutter a rather lackluster explanation involving deadlines, not really enunciating any of it. 

Manual gave her a thumbs-up likely meant to inspire confidence in the downtrodden.  “That’s all right, Gekkō-san. I’ll just be sure to use it so you can get used to how it feels. I’m sure you’ll live up to the aspirations embodied by that name!” 

More like live down to them. Heroes like Manual were so painfully earnest it made Kei’s hair want to stand on end. What did she do with that? “That’s…nice of you to say…”

“Well, here’s one more nice thing then: I think your hero costume looks good.” 

Kei winced. She felt her whole body lean into that scrap of honesty and hated it just a little. 

“I take it you don’t?” 

“…No, Manual-sensei. It doesn’t feel like me.” Because it wasn’t. Not really. 

“Maybe one of the goals you can work on for this internship can involve that, then.” Manual suggested it like it wasn’t a big deal. “Feeling comfortable with yourself.” 

To be fair, it probably wouldn’t be an important issue once Kei got into an actual fight. Most of the distractions faded away once her blood was up and there was someone who needed a beatdown. 

But in the meantime? Uuuuuugh. 

Thankfully, there was a shiny and chrome option right there. Manual also noticed, then waved, “Oh, Iida-kun! Over here.” 

Iida’s full-on Ingenium look was so much more complicated—visually and emotionally—and storied than Kei’s ongoing fight with support companies. He got to look like either a sentai villain or a turbo mecha, and his armor theoretically deflected attacks before he had to see if they’d bounce of his bones. It was one of the reasons that Iida was completely jacked, apparently. Besides, well, the whole running lifestyle. His hero outfit also came with a helmet that almost entirely concealed his face—except for his eyes—and made his voice echo in a simultaneously cool and kinda creepy way. 

Iida really should’ve taken a better internship somewhere else. Anywhere else. 

“Manual-sensei, I’m ready for duty,” Iida said firmly, despite Kei’s doubts. He was so serious about this that he didn’t even swing his arms for emphasis. “Please lead the way.” 

“Of course. Come along, you two.” 

Patrol as a concept was…fine. 

Mostly boring. 

Kei didn’t exactly mind walking all over cities. A lot of what Hosu citizens wanted out of their local heroes was a token showing. If that meant they also got help taking in their laundry or rescuing cats from trees, so much the better. She did a lot of the same things in Konoha when just starting out as an adorable little genin. There was little expectation of violence in broad daylight. Even petty criminals—those stubborn or uncreative enough to strike without any stealth consideration—were lying low for the moment. 

Basically, the point was deterrence. Though the Hero Killer had earned that title, he didn’t attack groups of heroes. No, he hunted solo operators. Or maybe just whoever separated from the pack, regardless of specifics. Now the city was crawling with potential fights and potential victims. 

Kei mostly hoped Iida didn’t plan to shove his way into the ring. When Ingenium was attacked, he’d been running ahead of his sidekicks and fought a guy specialized in close combat in a blind alleyway. Obito barely managed to get him to the hospital afterward, and if not for Kakashi’s tracking abilities, they might never have found him at all. From what Kei’s teammates said about it, there was a real chance Iida Senior would never get the full use of his left arm back. And the engine in it was probably beyond repair. 

“We’ll mostly be patrolling the local area so you can get a feel for how this works,” Manual said, living up to his name. “Later, we’ll branch out.” 

“Yes, Manual-sensei!” 

Still, Kei did miss running across rooftops with her friends. Her job today, though, was to stay firmly bound by gravity and societal expectations. And not hunt down Stain like the slippery bastard he was. 

So, Kei patrolled. Mostly, this entailed following Manual like a duckling while making sure Iida didn’t stray. Though that last part wasn’t said aloud. 

Broken up by meals, breaks, and gentle encouragement from their pro mentor, the first day passed peacefully. Almost too peacefully for Kei to sleep soundly that night. 

But the next day was similar, despite her worries. The absolute highlight of the entire eight-hour stretch was when Manual asked her to create water for him to manipulate and put out a car that had hit a light pole and caught fire. Iida managed to keep the victims calm while alerting emergency services, who then had to cut the driver out of the vehicle. Overall, it was a good deed and only ruined progress during rush hour for twenty minutes more than usual. 

And then, the third day. Honestly, Kei would’ve called it superstition if trouble had waited one more day into their internship, but it wasn’t to be.

On the third day, the patrol shift split between a morning and afternoon set. While Manual did lead Kei and Iida around until lunch, the next few hours after that involved a little bit of training and a lot of paperwork. According to Manual, almost everything pro heroes were responsible for involved forms in triplicate, and they’d be lucky if computers got involved at all. A lot of the smaller agencies loved their carbon paper. Even snagging the time for a nap amid the flurry of bureaucracy didn’t really improve Kei’s opinion of the whole thing. 

Suffice to say that when it was time to head out just before sunset, Kei was happy to see the sky again.

“We’ll be patrolling Kyoto a little later tonight,” Manual explained as they went. “Sorry this is so monotonous.” 

“No, it’s better this way,” Iida replied. 

Kei nodded along, taking a moment to yawn and stretch before a potential third night of nothing much. 

Instead of just continuing to walk until their feet all fell off, Manual drew up short and turned toward Iida. An unusually serious look was on his face. “Hey, Iida-kun. This is kind of hard to ask, but you’re after the Hero Killer, aren’t you?”

Iida startled. “How did you…?”

Manual’s expression went sheepish and self-deprecating laugh popped out of him. “I couldn’t think of any other reason you’d come to my agency.” Then his brain seemed to catch up with his mouth. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m glad you did, but…you shouldn’t be pursuing personal grudges.” 

Good thing someone wants to talk about that. 

“We heroes don’t have the authority to arrest people or punish them. The only reason we’re allowed to use our Quirks is because of the regulations put on them,” Manual pointed out. 

…Though that part’s still bullshit. 

“That’s why, no matter what their reason might be, a hero must not use their Quirk for themselves.” Manual actually glared at Iida. “If a pro hero used their powers solely for their own ends, it would be a very serious crime.” 

Iida lowered his head just the slightest bit, as though shamed. Just a bit. 

Conscious of the awkward atmosphere, Kei coughed to remind them both that she was still present. 

With that tiny reminder, Manual’s seriousness cracked. Using the kind of choppy hand gestures that Iida normally did, he stumbled his way through his attempt to downplay how serious he’d been. “I’m not saying the Hero Killer isn’t incredibly guilty! You just seem like the really earnest type, you know? I’d hate for you to focus on one goal and ignore everything else.” 

Like Iida doesn’t have tunnel vision fit for a train. 

“Thank you,” Iida said, giving nothing away. “I appreciate your concern.” 

Yeah, that wasn’t an actual concession. That was a very careful sidestep. 

“Oh, it’s fine as long as you get what I’m saying.” Manual turned to lead them onward. “So, we good?” 

He totally missed the way Iida’s fists clenched at his sides, the tension in his shoulders, or the weight still dragging him down. Or, if he did notice, Manual didn’t have the tools necessary to deal with Iida’s bellyful of vengeance before the Hero Killer finally put in an appearance. 

Kei tapped Iida’s armor with her knuckles as she passed, since he was falling a little bit behind. 

“Gekkō-san, what is it?” 

“Let me know before you do something reckless,” Kei told him, pitching her voice carefully enough that Manual’s helmet wouldn’t let him catch it. “Don’t just run off.” 

Iida didn’t say anything in reply. It was like he couldn’t acknowledge her concern without exploding, and thus needed to keep his focus entirely on putting one foot in front of the other. If it made him rude, maybe he’d be able to apologize for it later. When he felt better. 

But Iida also didn’t notice the tracking seal she'd just pasted to his black bodysuit, which Kei figured made up for that. 

[quillandink22]

Hey :) I saw you’re taking prompt requests! “Since when do you give a shit about me?" With Speirs x reader? maybe something that’s slightly angsty and spicy? Thank youuuu!!

Hey :) Thanks so much for your request. I love this idea. I was slightly nervous writing for Speirs, but I actually really enjoyed it. Might make a part 2 of this as I focused more on the angst on this one. (Can't forget about the spice.)

Solace

Haguenau, France.

You were supposed to be asleep, nestled under soft blankets, warm and dry. Yet here you were, beneath a brooding, starless sky. The occasional mortar round or flare bathed the crumbling street in ghostly, flickering light. Perched on the jagged rubble, you sat and smoked, the ember of your cigarette glowing like a solitary firefly. The sleet pelted against your helmet, seeping through your uniform and chilling you to the bone. The familiar cold seemed to settle your nerves, the ice creeping into your bones, your skin prickling, and teeth chattering in the numbing embrace.

It was madness. Perhaps you had indeed gone mad. After Bastogne, after the horrors of last night, you had every reason to lose your mind. The boys had long since sought refuge in sleep. Winters had offered them a lifeline—he had forged a mission, lied to the brass, and broken the rules he had always revered.

"Sergeant," Speirs' voice sliced through the silence, sharp and unyielding, yet you could hear the undertone of concern.

"Sir," you responded, your voice almost dripping with venom.

"What are you doing out here?" he demanded, stepping closer, his eyes narrowing in the dim light.

"What does it look like?" You shot back, almost cheeky, gesturing to the cigarette between your lips as if it explained the madness of your appearance.

"Get yourself inside. Winters didn't risk everything for us for you to sit out in the rain," he ordered, his tone brooking no argument.

"I'm fine," you spat back, the response almost drowned out by the blast of a mortar. Neither of you flinched; the noise was as normal now as the gentle patter of rain on a rooftop.

"Clearly not," he countered, his worry etched deeper into his expression, his brows furrowing.

"Since when do you give a shit about me?" you yelled, rising from your perch atop the rubble of a brick wall. You stood on your tiptoes in an attempt to meet his gaze head-on. "You pulled me from the patrol. I should have been there."

"You needed a break," he replied, his voice tinged with exhaustion. The entire second platoon was exhausted. They all deserved a break. What made you so different?

"Fuck you," you hissed, your voice breaking as you turned and left, looking to put some distance between yourself and him.

"Hey, Sergeant. You don't get to speak to me that way," he shot back, his tone hardening.

"Fuck you, sir." You spun around to face him, your words like daggers aimed at his heart. You hadn't expected them to strike so deep, but they did. His usual stoic demeanor faltered, his soft brown eyes locking onto yours.

You crumbled, the weight of months of suppressed pain and sorrow crashing over you like a tidal wave. Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling over as you shook with silent sobs.

He hadn't anticipated this. You had been a pillar of strength throughout the nightmare that was Bastogne. The men spoke of you as an immovable object, always there, always calm, always positive. They had failed to see how you were slowly disintegrating, absorbing everyone's pain and carrying their burdens as your own.

He stepped forward hesitantly. Emotions were a battlefield he was ill-equipped to navigate. He was a soldier, accustomed to giving orders, to leading and commanding. But comforting tears was an entirely different challenge.

You stepped back as he tried to close the distance. He saw your fear, mirroring his own apprehension. As though the simple act of a hug would destroy the walls you’d both built to protect yourselves from the onslaught of war. Exhaustion seemed to win out in you when he stepped forward again. You stood still long enough for his arms to encircle you as the sobs tore from your body. His embrace was awkward but sincere, a silent promise that in this moment, you were not alone. He knew what you were feeling. He saw his reflection in your eyes, a mirror of the soldier he portrayed. Yet there was a softness in you. You loved the men dearly, as though they were your very own brothers.

"If I was there..." Your words were almost smothered by your emotion. "I might have saved him. Saved Jackson. He was just a kid."

"You don't know that," he replied calmly. "There's no maybes in war. It's cruel and indifferent."

"I could have tried." You spoke more evenly.

"I'm sorry," he admitted.

You looked up at him, your tears still streaming down your face, but there was something more in your gaze now—something raw and yearning. Without thinking, you reached up, cupping his face with trembling hands. He hesitated for a moment, then leaned in, your foreheads touching, breaths mingling in the cold night air.

Slowly, as if testing the waters of a forbidden territory, you pressed your lips to his. The kiss was gentle at first, hesitant, but soon it deepened, a desperate and unspoken plea for comfort, for understanding. He responded, his arms tightening around you, pulling you closer as if to shield you from the world and all its cruelties.

In that kiss, you found a brief respite from the chaos. For that moment, you were no longer soldiers, no longer bound by duty and pain, but simply two souls seeking solace in each other’s embrace.

[starpeace]

here for the mandalorian rant ☕️

um well the first episode of the brand new season of disney+’s flagship star wars show was entirely... filler. the dialogue was incredibly bad, not even written badly but as if no-one had written it at all. entirely flat and devoid of life, in a show with a faceless protagonist whose dialogue literally has to carry all the weight. din continues to have no opinions, no emotion and nothing to say

as for the plot, what even happened in this episode? we open with the mandalorian covert ritually giving a child their helmet, but this is not explored at all, it’s only there to be interrupted with a giant monster fight for absolutely no reason, as if this show has been written by six-year-old me livening up clicking my barbies together by grabbing my toy dinosaurs. din has conversations with the armourer and bo-katan purely to rehash the information we’ve already been given, partly because half of it was in a bad show the casual audience won’t have watched. neither of these characters is doing anything.

din visits greef karga, who is now discount lando “gone respectable” but instead of having personality he’s just really into gentrification and this is presented completely uncritically. din, a character most charming for being the beaten up mercenary underdog of the galaxy, suddenly hates pirates and disorder (well, hates would imply he shows emotion—dislikes pirates and disorder? is mildly perturbed by pirates and disorder?), and pals around with high magistrates who offer him a position as a cop/landed gentry (they actually use the words “landed gentry”). there’s a couple of meaningless unfunny comic relief scenes because this is all that grogu is here for now, complete with a reference to, of all things, the rise of skywalker. in what is apparently the main plot of the episode, which is, i repeat, the first episode of the brand new season, din takes up a fetch quest to get a random droid part for an absolutely laughable reason that does nothing but completely negate a character arc from season 1 and everything we have been shown since, just reminding you that not even death will be allowed to have emotion or narrative weight, or prevent disney from dragging back onto your screen anything that will sell. he doesn’t actually do this fetch quest, btw, he just gets given it, because apparently we have to do multiple episodes of this

did i get everything? was that the whole episode? oh wait there was the fight with the pirates in space. i forgot it because there was zero tension. those pirates also earlier wanted to... have a drink in a school with greef, i guess, in a completely baffling scene? i can’t imagine there was any point to this pirate bit except to put fight scenes into this filler episode and force the visual effects people to carry the entire lumbering weight of this show. one has to assume that otherwise the pirates would have had personalities or motivations. oh, also purrgils appeared in this episode, because this is the Star Wars Cinematic Universe, and you’d better watch all the interconnected shows so all your beloved characters can eventually come together to swap lifeless quips on screen, just like you always wanted.

a droid drops a statue’s head on top of a murder droid to stop it, purely so din can say, “now that’s using your head.” if you were wondering what i meant about the dialogue.

i don’t even need to get into the politics of the story they’re telling. i don’t need to humiliate it further by comparing it to andor. it’s just bad to watch on a basic technical fundamental level, and it’s not headed anywhere better, because they will be churning out this story for cash forever with no goal or meaning, under circumstances where i cannot seriously even imagine caring about star wars anymore. hope this helps!