#please let Brittany see this

[graveyardcanine]

Why does Brittany Broski look like Shakespeare’s wife Anne Hathaway…

[sadprose-auroras]

On Top – Hazel Callahan x reader

Hi! I have been able to think of literally nothing else but this character, so I simply had to. Shoutout to all the incredible writers who have been doing the lord’s work writing for Hazel already, you’re all amazing <3 I just had to add my little contribution.

Content: mild violence, sexual themes and making out, cursing, out of practise writing, no use of y/n.

Summary: Cheerleader!reader and Hazel have the hots for each other. Other stuff contextualises that, but it’s not as interesting. That’s about it. Please let me know if you enjoy! Word count: 4.4k

You first heard about the club when PJ and Josie approached you in the hallway as you were searching desperately for a book in your locker.

“Where is it?” you mumbled to yourself, when the pair came up behind you suddenly.

“Hey!”

You yelped in surprise, whipping around.

“Oh, hi. PJ. Josie.” You smiled. You weren’t particularly close with the two best friends, but you were friendly. Josie, more so. It wasn’t hard to be a little annoyed when you saw PJ treat Hazel the way she did. Okay, so maybe it infuriated you. Sure, your immense crush on Hazel might have had something to do with it, but nobody deserved to be tossed aside carelessly like that.

“What’s up? Um, we have a proposition for you,” Josie said. You frowned.

“Okay, what is it?” You were suddenly a little nervous.

“We think there is a serious lack of female solidarity at this school,” said PJ.

“Agreed,” you nodded. And you really did.

“So we’ve started this women’s, uh, like, um, solidarity club, to help us, y’know, come together, beat the patriarchy, learn to defend ourselves, it’s in the gym after school if you feel like coming along?” PJ asked.

“That actually sounds great.” You were excited. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t slightly terrified of everything that was going on.

“Really? Great! And we were thinking that maybe you could bring along, y’know, some of your friends? Like- oh gosh, for example, Brittany and Isabel? Or-or- any of your, y’know fellow cheerleaders.”

You suppressed a smile. They were so not obvious. But you were down. Although you were considered fairly popular being a cheerleader, you were keen to hang out with some other girls. It felt like nobody truly understood you.

“I make no promises about Brittany and Isabel but I’ll ask! I’ll see you guys then,” you smiled, closing your locker. The bell rang, and you said your goodbyes as you headed off to class. You gave up on finding your book. Classes were weirdly short at your school, anyway.

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It didn’t take much convincing to get your friends to join you. Isabel was immediately excited about the club, and Brittany, bless her soul, followed Isabel anywhere she went. Your shoes awkwardly squeaked on the gym floor as the three of you walked in and approached the group. All eyes turned to the three of you, some sitting, some standing, and a silence fell among everyone. You cleared your throat, speaking up first.

“Hey, this is the women’s solidarity club, right? We want to join.”

To your surprise, Hazel was the first to bound over and smile. Your heartbeat rapidly increased and your cheeks warmed, so you quickly looked down, avoiding eye contact.

“Hey you guys, come on in! We were just about to start-“

“Trust exercises.” Josie interrupted.

“Wrestling- wrestling each other.” PJ said at the same time, her eyes locked on Brittany. “It’s a fight club, actually.” You frowned. Surely if you were going to start a club, you’d have a clear picture of what it was going to be first? They seemed to have no idea what they were doing.

Your friend seemed completely ignorant, or at the least unphased by PJ’s crush on her. Hazel cleared her throat, and you felt a surge of sympathy for the girl. Not that you would ever tell her that. You could barely look at her without melting into a puddle. Her big, dreamy eyes that you could pretty much drown in. Her smooth-as-honey voice. Her radiant smile. The way she was so sweet to everyone, even if they didn’t deserve it. How she was simultaneously so sure of herself, seemingly so confident. Her floppy hair that was always getting in her eyes, and just looked so soft that you always wanted to just reach out and-

Oh shit. You were definitely staring now. You looked away quickly, heart racing.

“We’re not supposed to talk about th-“ Josie mumbled to PJ. “It’s a self defence club,” she explained to the group. “Come on,” she gestured, and you all gathered in a circle, sitting down. Hazel sat next to you, and you had never been so aware of somebody’s physical presence before. All you needed to do was move your leg over a few inches and hers would be touching yours. You were vaguely aware of PJ explaining that you were going to practise defending yourselves against each other, but you were only half listening. You were too busy staring at Hazel’s knee. It was so close to yours. You were snapped out of your thoughts by her knee nudging yours. You looked up at Hazel, mortified that you were caught out.

“That’s you,” Hazel said.

“Huh? What? Oh,” you laughed nervously, putting two-and-two together. Josie had said your name. You gulped. You really didn’t want to go first. Surely fighting each other was counterintuitive for solidarity? You sat up, moving to the middle of the circle.

“And um… Hazel.” Josie said. Your eyes widened. You particularly didn’t want to fight her. What if you hurt her?

“Right, okay,” Hazel chuckled awkwardly, standing up to move into the middle as well. You smiled at each other nervously and began circling each other.

“C’mon!” someone shouted.

“Hit each other!” somebody else yelled even louder. Your heart racing, you took a step forward, swinging your fist, nowhere near as hard as you could have, cringing as you did so. Hazel, thankfully, ducked, and you missed. Continuing to circle each other, you both laughed nervously.

The group shouted encouragements, egging you both on. Hazel swung this time as you attempted to dodge. You didn’t quite move fast enough though, and her fist made contact with your cheekbone. You bit back a smile. It was not okay how much you enjoyed it.

“Get her, Hazel! Slay queen!” Sylvie shouted, as she swung again, and this time you ducked quickly. Using the opportunity, you thought you’d better try again, and attempted a right hook, cringing internally when your fist made contact. Hazel smiled. She actually smiled.

“Nice one,” she said, hitting you again, knocking you down onto your back. Amidst the shock, you were vaguely aware of your lip bleeding from where Hazel’s ring made contact. Before you could move to get up, she was on top of you, hips straddling yours, pinning down your wrists. The way her body was pressed against yours made your head spin and your breath quicken. Not to mention the throbbing between your thighs. Your cheer skirt had ridden up in the process, and it was difficult not to notice the only thing covering you were the thin bike shorts underneath.

“Ready to give up yet?” she asked, smirking. You smiled, using all of your strength to push her off you, the two of you rolling over so now you were on top of her. There was something about this particular situation that was making you so much more brave then usual.

“Definitely not,” you replied. There was a bit of back and forth as you rolled around, eventually ending up on your back, Hazel on top of you. Not that you were complaining. The soft noises she made, grunting and groaning as you fought, were possibly the hottest sounds you had ever heard in your entire life. It made you wonder what she sounded if they were noises of pleasure, instead of pain, if she might moan in delight if you were to kiss her neck, if you were to be between her legs, how she would gasp-

“Hazel wins!”

Oh fuck. Your train of thought had absolutely distracted you. You literally had forgotten to keep fighting back, too busy enjoying yourself. Hazel stood up, the loss of the feeling of her against you a large disappointment. You picked yourself up as well, wincing at the pain. Hazel was looking pretty worse for wear as well, blood dripping from her nose, hair mused. You vaguely wondered if it was normal to find it incredibly sexy.

“Well done,” you said, as she reached out to shake your hand. God, she was so endearing. You tried to ignore how much sweat had pooled on your palms.

“You too,” she said, “you were amazing.”

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The next few weeks in the club were truly amazing. Despite the fighting being the thing to bring all of you together, you really felt like you had bonded with every single one of the girls more than you could have imagined. There was a beauty in the trust you put in each other’s hands to be that violent with each other.

More than anything, you felt closer to Hazel. You could actually speak to her without feeling like you were going to explode with anxiety, instead wanting to explode with affection. The pair of you had developed a habit of sitting next to one another, and after every meeting you would hang around after everyone else had left, caught up in conversation. Those small moments were such a safe space, they felt electric; you felt like you could tell her anything and she would listen. And vice versa.

Well. Almost anything.

The two of you were sitting cross-legged in the middle of the gym floor, facing each other. You couldn’t even remember how long ago everyone else had left.

“I dunno, I just feel like this is the first time I’ve had actual, real, friends in school, you know?” Hazel said. The sadness in her eyes and twitch in her brow made you want to scream, to grab the shoulders of anyone who didn’t want to be her friend and ask what the fuck was fundamentally wrong with them.

You nodded sympathetically.

“Me too. I mean, I love Brittany and Isabel, but we didn’t even talk about anything that wasn’t cheer or schoolwork or petty relationship drama until we joined the club. Now we talk about real things.”

“That’s so great,” Hazel said softly, turning your insides to mush.

“You’re so great,” you breathed out quickly, gently placing your hand on her leg before you could think. You cleared your throat, drawing your hand back and placing it back in your lap, clasping your hands together.

“Thank you,” she said your name, and you fought the urge to melt into the floor at the way your name passed through her lips.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and you both whipped your heads to see who it was. PJ wandered in, and you stiffened.

“Hey, I left my backpack.” She jogged up, grabbing it off the ground and swinging it onto her shoulder. “What are you guys doing?”

“Nothing,” you said, possibly a little too defensively.

“Yeah, just talking,” Hazel said, standing up. You basically deflated with disappointment.

“We still on for tonight? I really need some help,” PJ said to Hazel expectedly, and she nodded in response.

“Yeah, for sure. See you later,” she smiled at you, and you tried to hide your disappointment.

“Bye guys,” you waved, waiting until they left to lay down on the floor and groan.

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“PJ, you’re a liar!”

“Yeah, well, you have no friends and a skank as a mom, so…”

The pain on Hazel’s face was evident. She looked like a kicked puppy. Your blood boiled. How dare PJ say that, after everything Hazel had done for her? Enough was enough. You shot up, stalking over to PJ, rage burning inside of you. With one swift movement, you swung your fist right to the centre of her face, knocking her clean onto the floor.

It suddenly dawned on you what you had done. All of your friends watched in shock, mouths hanging open. Nervously, you turned around, Hazel gazing at you in shock.

“I-uh-“ you stuttered, utterly humiliated. Before you could apologise to PJ for taking it too far, before anyone could say anything, Hazel darted off, the doors shutting loudly behind her.

“PJ, I’m sorry, I-“ you stuttered out to the girl still laying on the floor, before taking off after Hazel.

“Haze, wait!” You followed her figure out the gym, down the hallway, around a corner, and into the toilets.

You entered, taking a deep breath. Hazel was leaning against the sink, chewing on her fingernails.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, that was uncalled for. I know you don’t need me to stand up for you, and I know you like PJ, and that was so not my place, and-“ you said quickly. “I’m just really sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise to me,” Hazel sighed. “You were incredible. I should be thanking you, really.”

“Oh.” You took a small step forward, hands clasped behind your back.

“I don’t like PJ, by the way,” she shook her head, chuckling. Your stomach rolled and dipped.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” she smiled softly.

“I just hear the way she speaks to you, and I don’t know, I think you deserve better than that,” you shrugged.

“I know I do,” she said, shuffling back and forth nervously. “I just always want to see the best in people, I guess.”

“I love that about you,” you said quickly, without thinking. Blood rushed to your cheeks. You were getting dangerously close to confessing the entirety of your feelings for her. She was the one who made you feel brave. Hazel looked away shyly at this, grinning. God, she was beautiful. You took a moment to admire her.

“That doesn’t mean that you can’t be self-assured and brave at the same time,” you continued. “Really, I’ve always thought that you seem so confident.”

“I’m not as brave as I could be,” she said quietly, scanning your face. “As you.” She inched ever so closer to you. Her eyes were burning into yours, making you feel positively dizzy. “There’s so many things I wish I could do, but I just… don’t have the confidence.” Her voice got quieter and quieter as she spoke.

“Like what?” you asked, nibbling at your bottom lip. You didn’t even remember when you got this close to each other, all you had to do was lean forward just a bit and you would be-

“Oh my god, Hazel are you okay?” the door swung open, and you both jumped back.

“Y-yeah, thanks Josie,” Hazel replied, her adorable face reddening. “It was a wake-up call, if I’m honest.”

“Between you and me, PJ had it coming,” Josie said, placing her hand on your shoulder. You smiled at her gratefully. “Someone had to do it. I really think she’ll come to her senses and realise that she needs to treat you better, Hazel.”

“Thank you. Honestly, I don’t even care that much anymore,” she shrugged, stealing a glance at you. Your breath quickened.

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It took a few weeks, but everything pretty much went back to normal. PJ was genuinely showing Hazel how sorry she was, appreciating all of the work she did for the club. You and PJ were fine, as well. You forgave each other. Meetings went back to normal, and you found yourself constantly grateful for the group of strong, brave, kind-hearted, supportive girls.

You were currently sitting on your bed, books sprawled out in front of you, ‘studying.’ Okay, so maybe you weren’t entirely concentrating on science homework. Maybe, just maybe, you couldn’t get a certain brunette out of the forefront of your mind. Particularly a certain near-kiss incident. You always presumed there was no way she liked you, that she liked PJ, but now you weren’t sure. Would she have kissed you if you hadn’t been interrupted? Your doorbell rang, and you sighed in relief at the distraction from your rumination. Being home alone, you went down your stairs, heading towards the door and opening it before checking who it was. Nothing could have prepared you to see Hazel standing there, looking incredibly nervous and incredibly adorable. She was wearing a back and white shirt paired with a black vest that should have been illegal to look that good in.

“Hey!” you said, perhaps a little too cheerfully. “What are you doing here? Do you wanna come in?”

She grinned that smile of hers that you swear could cure any disease.

“Yeah, thanks. Just came to see you, if that’s okay? I know it’s a bit weird, I hope I’m not interrupting anything?” You shook your head as she wiped her feet before entering, and you shut the door behind her.

“Just studying. So boring. I’m grateful for the distraction,” you chuckled. And you truly were grateful. It’s as if all your worries and anxieties about Hazel disappeared as soon as she was in front of you. Because it was just Hazel. Your Hazel. Your friend. And no matter what, you loved her. And you knew she cared for you, romantic or not. And that wasn’t going to change.

“Look, I-“ she started, taking a deep breath, and then beginning again. “I’m trying to be brave like you are. To say what I feel when I feel it.” Her voice was steady and even. You wanted to correct her, tell her that you don’t say what you feel, but she continued.

“And what I feel, is that I might just die if I don’t kiss you right now.”

Holy shit.

Instead of responding, you placed your hand behind her neck, both of your bodies moving in sync towards each other. The moment your lips met, you exhaled through your noses in sync. As if you were both saying, finally. Her hands found your waist as your lips softly grazed one another’s, testing the water. You parted your lips slightly, deepening the kiss. Kissing somebody new usually felt daunting as you learned to navigate it, but you had never felt safer. Hazel’s hands moved back and forth on your waist, as her tongue darted out ever so slightly. You moaned softly into the kiss, hands gently threading through the hair at the bottom of her neck. It was just as soft as you imagined.

You pulled apart for a moment, faces close to one another. Neither of you could contain your smiles. You vaguely wondered if it was possible to faint from feeling so many butterflies. Not being able to help yourself, you reached up and brushed her hair out of her eyes.

“Wow,” you exhaled.

Hazel was the first one to move this time, crashing your lips together with more urgency this time. The kiss grew more passionate as you wrapped your arms around each other, yours draped around her neck, hers engulfing your entire back. It was as if you couldn’t get any closer, as if you were drowning and kissing each other was oxygen. Pulling apart ever so slightly, you gave her one last kiss, then another, because you simply couldn’t help it.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” You giggled, arms still draped around her neck.

“Me too,” she whispered, before kissing your forehead. God, could she get any cuter?

“Really?” you raised an eyebrow, as you both began to move to get more comfortable on the couch, sitting beside one another.

“Yeah, are you kidding!?” she said dramatically. “But you’re like this hot, popular cheerleader, I never thought I’d have a chance with you!”

“I’m hot? Have you seen you?” you asked in disbelief.

She blushes a deep shade of red, mouth opening slightly as if she was going to say something, then closing it again.

“I didn’t even know if you were gay,” she eventually says.

You laughed.

“Don’t you remember the first time we fought? That was like, a sexual spiritual awakening. That was the gayest shit ever.” Hazel threw her head back and laughed, eyes crinkling at the sides.

“I can’t ever forget.”

“Oh! Also…” you said, grinning from ear to ear, absolutely giddy with disbelief that this was actually happening. You pulled your top up slightly to reveal your ribs, where a small tattoo of a pair of interlocked scissors resided. You both laughed. Hazel’s cheeks reddened, and she stuttered.

“Well, I- I mean… maybe you want to be a hairdresser?” she laughed, eyes glued to the tattoo.

“God, that’s so hot,” she mumbled under her breath. “Can I?” she asked reaching out, and you nodded, heart lurching at her care for asking. She gently traced the tattoo, and you let out a shaky breath. She was barely touching you, and yet her effect on you was all-encompassing. Goosebumps prickled your skin everywhere, not just where she was touching you.

“Hazel,” you whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear. “You can take it off if you want.” Your voice came out shakier than you anticipated. Hazel gulped, nodded, then pulled your top off, your arms stretching up to help her. She tossed it on the floor, eyes scanning all of you as if she couldn’t quite take it all in. You were in a plain cotton bra, still wearing your cheer skirt, but Hazel made you feel like you were wearing the most expensive, fancy lingerie ever. You cupped her face, thumbing her cheek, before pulling her in for a kiss. You kissed her with less urgency this time, taking the time to explore each other’s mouths slowly and passionately. She pulled you onto her lap, so you were straddling her, her hands resting on your hips. You slowly began to move against her in rhythm, moaning into the kiss.

Hazel murmured your name against your lips, breathing shakily.

“I want- I- you’re so-“ she tried. “Jesus fucking christ,” she said as she buried her face in the crook of your neck.

“Tell me what you want,” you whispered, running your fingers through her hair. Hazel began to kiss your neck, leaving a trail of kisses up to your ear. Shivers ran down your spine, and you sighed in pleasure.

“Whatever you want. Do whatever you want with me,” she whispered into your ear, and you quite literally nearly came right there and then.

“No, what do you want?” you asked, thumbing at her lip. She opened her mouth, sucking on your thumb before releasing it with a pop. You swore, she was going to actually put you into cardiac arrest. Despite this action, you could tell nobody had really asked her that before, and she was at a loss for words.

“I want to make you feel good. Is that okay?” you asked, instead of letting her answer.

“God yes,” she basically moaned, kissing you. Meanwhile, you pushed her vest off, making quick work of undoing the buttons of her shirt. You tossed the items on the floor, barely breaking your lips apart for a moment.

“Lay down for me,” you moved off her lap, letting her get comfortable. This gave you the perfect opportunity to run your eyes over her body. She was left in a soft black crop top and jeans. Looking down at her, her chest rising and falling, soft skin to die for, eyes wide with desire, lips plump from making out, it crossed your mind that you had never, ever, ever, seen a more heavenly sight.

“You’re so beautiful,” you breathed out, moving to straddle her again, intertwining your fingers together above her head.

“You’re the most beautiful,” she retaliated, nudging your noses together. You both giggled, and you kissed her softly.

“Take the compliment, baby. I mean it,” you said, kissing her again, before she could respond again. Still holding one of her hands, you moved the other down her tummy, lightly tracing patterns on her skin. Her eyes fluttered as she bit her lip.

“Touch me,” she said. You smirked.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” you chuckled, glad she was asking for what she wanted.

“Can I take these off?” you blinked at her, fiddling with a belt loop on her jeans.

“Please,” she said breathily, arching her back slightly. You undid the button, the zipper, then stood up so she could shimmy out of them, you yanked them off her legs a little too hard, your feet giving out beneath you as you stumbled backwards, landing on your ass on the floor in shock. You looked at each other for a second, before both bursting out laughing.

“Smooth,” Hazel said between loud laughs. “Really smooth. How did you even manage that?” she teased, getting off the couch, instead onto the floor with you, crawling towards you. Your eyes drifted down to her cleavage, then back to her eyes. You inhaled sharply.

“Shut up,” you teased back, as she moved on top of you, pinning you down.

“I feel like we’ve been here before,” Hazel mused, holding your wrists down.

“I’m definitely getting flashbacks,” you laughed. “Except this time, I can just…” you kissed her, a little sloppily, but neither of you cared because it was so hot.

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The very next day, you and Hazel walked hand in hand into a club meeting, giggling and whispering to each other. You were the last ones to arrive, having gotten a little distracted in the janitor’s closet.

Everyone turned to look at the pair of you, all seemingly realising what was happening at the exact same moment.

“Oh my god, FINALLY!”

“You fucked! Finally!”

“You were so obvious!”

“Slay queens!”

A chorus of excitement engulfed you, as everyone crowded around you, hugging the pair of you. PJ included.

“I’m really happy for you guys. This-“ she pointed back and forth between you, then made some inappropriate gestures, “makes a lot of sense.”

“Thanks, dude.” Hazel smiled at her.

“Okay, let’s start!” Josie chimed, and you all sat down in a circle. You didn’t let go of Hazel’s hand for a moment. “As per our new protocol, we’re drawing names for pairings.” She held up a hat full of slips with all of your names on it, shaking it around. She stuck her hand in, swirled it around a little too long for dramatic effect. She drew a paper out, reading it aloud.

“Hazel!” You internally groaned. You didn’t want anyone else to get that close to your girl.

“And….” She picked another piece, reading your name out. You grinned.

“Are you game?” Hazel asked, and you nodded enthusiastically.

“Only if you are.”

“Are you kidding?” She leaned into your ear to whisper. “Any excuse to get you on top of me.”

[jordyn14]

I’m all yours | Joe Burrow

Summary: There’s always that one girl you can’t stand, but when they drool all over your boyfriend, it’s impossible to stand by and watch.

Pairing: Joe Burrow x first person fem eader

Words: 2281

Notes: this fic contains smut, 18+ only please // I know this is shorter, but I wanted to get something out. I hope you enjoy!!

“He did so well in the last game though. You did absolutely incredible. It’s a bummer that this season is over.” Britany, a players sister said from the left side of Joe, basically throwing herself onto him for the 100th time tonight. Today, Britany was hosting a little party for all of the players and their close families to celebrate the season. The whole night, Britany was throwing compliment after compliment in Joe’s direction, completely disrespecting the fact that I was his girlfriend of almost 5 years and sitting right across from Joe so I could see it all. Of course the seating arrangement had him sitting right next to her since it was her house.

Ever since the first day she met a joe at training camp last year, she's taken an interest in him, and I mean, who wouldn't? Joe was amazing in almost every aspect of his being. Not only was he stunningly beautiful with his huge muscles, tall frame, amazing hair, and amazing blue eyes, but he was brilliant, talented, kind, charismatic, nerdy, upon many more things. But at the end of the day, the only person that was truly allowed to drool over him was me, not his teammates sister who obviously would be down to fuck him right in front of the whole dinner party. What aggravated me even more was the fact that Joe wasn't saying anything. He didn't ask her to stop or move his arm away from her when she clung to his arm while having another one of her laughing fits at something he said that nobody else found that funny.

All I could do was eat my food, mingle with the rest of the people at the party, and look like I am having an amazing night, all while watching Britany basically fuck my boyfriend right in front of me. I've never been the jealous type. I have always been cool, calm, and collected around every single one of Joes teammates girlfriends or sisters and respected them, but that's because not a single one of them acted the way she has around him. Plus, I have had to watch her do this for months and months while the season was going on since she had a family pass, and I'm so fucking glad that after today, we will be done with her since her brother got traded. At every single team event that allows family, Brittany is always practically stuck to his side. Although the annoyance in Joe’s face and actions towards her are very evident whenever he's near her, it still doesn't mean I want her anywhere near him.

"And I am just so happy that you kept the facial hair, it really looks great on you." Britany said. Joe thanked her awkwardly and took the compliment, but then his gaze shifted to mine, knowing I was pissed off. I could feel that the entire dinner party was a little weirded out at her comment since they all know I am Joes girlfriend. “It was actually my idea. I'm glad you agree with me. I just think it makes him look...so much more desirable, y'know?" I said with a fake smile and laugh when Britany nodded and laughed. After I said this, her smile quickly faded, speechless after I said Joe was desirable. I picked up my fork and stabbed a piece of steak off of my plate and then brought it up to my mouth. While I slowly put the steak in my mouth, I looked at Joe who was shooting bullets at me. Once the steak was in my mouth, I dropped my fork to the plate and glared at Joe too, daring him to look away first and towards Brittany who was obviously changing the subject.

Swallowing the piece of steak in my mouth, My jaw clenched repeatedly over and over again, annoyed by the way he was just letting Brittany drool over him. "Joe, although my brother is leaving for Houston, I would love to hang out sometimes. You can bring your girlfriend too, if you want." Brittany said and then looked at Joe with a wild smile. "Bitch." I said under my breath so nobody could hear it. While still making eye contact with Joe, I took the napkin off of my lap and onto the table next to my plate and stood up. "Excuse me, I'll be right back." I said with a fake smile and stormed off into the bathroom where I could be alone and not see the two of them. For all I know, as soon as I closed the door, Joe bent Britany over the table and started fucking her.

The sight of the two of them angered me so much that I didn't even know what to do with myself. My blood was boiling and all I wanted to do was go home with Joe. Instead, I'm in Britany's bathroom-where she's probably fingered herself to the thought of Joe-pacing back and forth, deciding when or even if I should return back to the dining room where everyone else is. All I could think about was the image of Joe bending Britany over the table and doing exactly what he does to me. I imagined him pleasuring her as much as he pleasures me...when pure ecstasy and adrenaline is pumping through both of our veins. This thought only made me even angrier and made me contemplate whether I should just tell everyone I was sick and that I would call a cab to take me back home.

With my back turned towards the door, I heard the door swing open. Shit, I forgot to lock it. I turned around quickly and basically yelled out an apology, feeling bad that I let someone walk in on me, even if I was just standing there. But, as soon as I turned around, I locked eyes with the one and only Joe burrow. With a roll of my eyes, I let out an annoying sigh that sounded more like a growl and crossed my arms over my chest. "What are you doing in here?" He asked me. I scoffed as he shut and locked the door behind him and put his hands on his hips. "Shouldn't you be out there helping Brittany with her orgasm right now? I mean she was basically cumming right on the chair just by hearing you talk." I said, probably being a little too dramatic, but he still deserved it nonetheless. Joe shook his head and then scoffed.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Joe asked me. My fists were clenched as I turned towards the mirror instead of him and started to fix my hair, trying to ignore him. So many thoughts ran through my head and I couldn't stay quiet. I quickly turned back to him and walked a step closer to him. "Are you seriously going to stand there and deny the fact that Britany practically drools all over you when she sees you! It's like she doesn't even acknowledge me." I raised my voice and glared at him, not worried about anyone hearing since it was loud enough out there. "Is someone jealous?" Joe asked with a smirk. How was he going to stand in front of me and deny the fact that she was drooling over him? Hell, she's been drooling over him since the first day they met at training camp. The second she saw those bright blue eyes, tall frame, and big muscles, he became like a drug to her.

"What- no, I am not jealous. I'm fucking annoyed. Annoyed at Brittany and the fact that you Don't seem to notice it." I said. He sucked his teeth, making multiple "tsk" sounds and then began walking towards me. Breaking eye contact, I faced the mirror and walked towards it, putting my hands on the edges of the sink. Joe came up behind me with his huge frame and I finally made eye contact with him. Fuck. He was hot. "You don't think I haven't noticed? I see the way she drools over me and ignores your presence." Henry said. We both held each other's gaze in the mirror. "Then why don't you do anything?" I asked. Joe took a step closer to me and said, "Because, 1, as a professional athlete, I'm going to be around people I don't like but have to be around, and 2, you're the only woman in this world I care about. I am yours and nothing can change that." He said.

All of a sudden, he came up close to me that I could feel his huge boner pressing up against my backside. I sucked in a breath but maintained eye contact with Joe who towered over me. "Who do I belong to?" He asked me and began to drag his fingers up my arm and to my shoulder where he moved my hair out of the way. "Me." I said quietly. Joe smiled slightly but then began to kiss my neck, not breaking eye contact. A soft sigh fell from my lips. His lips detached from my neck, leaving me longing for his touch again. A pool formed in my panties and my core ached, wanting- needing- Joe inside of my right now. "What was that?" He asked again, wanting me to say it louder. "You are mine." I said.

As soon as I said this, Joe grinded up against my ass. I practically moaned at the feeling, needing him inside me right now, the desire for him proving to be too much in this moment. "What do you want? Do you want to go back to the party? Or do you want me to fuck you in Brittany's bathroom?" He asked from behind me. As we held each other's gaze, his eyes were clouded with lust and it only turned me on even more. "Fuck me in Brittany's bathroom." I wined out to him. In a matter of seconds, Joe removed his hands from my body and started to work on undoing his belt from his pants. Luckily, I was wearing a skirt, so I just pulled down my panties. When he was done, he got closer to me and I could feel him line himself up with me. "Don't be too loud, now, alright?" Joe asked me. I nodded quickly.

The tip of his dick hit my clit and then slid down to my aching core where he began to slide it up and down my slit. "Please, Joe." I begged. In a matter of seconds, and with a smirk on his face, he thrusted himself into me, not giving me any time to acclimate to his length and girth. A pornographic moan slipped from my lips. No matter how many times we have sex, I still never get used to the size of him. My body tensed up quickly as my walls closed around his dick, making it hard for him to push himself into me. "Calm down, just let me in. Take a deep breath for me." Joe said. I nodded and then quickly took a deep breath. When I finally let him inside of me, he started to pick up the pace, snapping his hips against mine quickly. While Joe began to fuck me, he bent me over the sink and grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled my head back. "Look at me." He grunted as he thrusted into me, his hips hitting mine at a fast pace.

Joe was filling me up and stretching me out so much to the point where it felt impossible to look up at him. But, the pain that filled my body was slowly getting replaced by pleasure, making moan after moan slip out of my parted lips. The grip on my hair got tighter and he lifted my head up even higher. When most of the pain was replaced, I brought my eyes up until we made eye contact. Knowing Joe was watching me and only me while he fucked me and not worried about Brittany only made me want to get fucked harder by him. Joe was mine and not Brittany's. "There's my good girl." He said. He loved to see the way my fucked our face looked. With every snap of his hips, he pulled my hips closer to his so he could plunge into me harder and deeper each time.

"D-don't stop. Fuck." I moaned out as he thrusted into me. Without warning, his other hand was brought down and started rubbing slow and gentle circles into my clit, helping me reach my orgasm faster. Knowing how loud I get when I reach my high, he put his hand over my mouth tightly. With how hard he thrusted into me and the way he rubbed my clit just right, I let go of the knot that was in my stomach, getting pushed over the edge from the pleasure, and my orgasm washed over me in waves. "Joe!" My loud moan was muffled by Joes big hand that was placed tightly over my mouth. My whole body began to shake and my legs folded, but was held up by his strong arms. My eyes were sealed shut and I felt a twitch inside of me, followed by a warm liquid that overflowed and began to drip down my legs.

My legs shook and once I felt Joe pull out of me, I opened my eyes slowly and met his gaze. "Oh wow." I said, breathlessly. Joe’s chest rose and fell quickly, out of breath too while he said, “I’m all yours.”

[no-droids]

Another Rough Day

gif credit @chrishemsworht

Part Twenty of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 13.7K

Warnings: Angst, violence, canon-typical blood and gore, language, hurt/comfort

A/N: i wanna thank yall for sticking around during my hermit era, in the time ive been gone i am now officially a junior at a university majoring in aerospace and it’s a fuckin nightmare and i hate everything and god help us all literally kill me and I will be posting INCREDIBLY slowly because of that (I’m talkin weeks or months in between updates yall, im sorry I can’t dedicate more time to this but I am going to finish this fic within the next handful of chapters idk maybe 5 or 6 so you shouldn’t have to wait too too long).  As a heads up there will be hard angst as we enter the final arc, there will be hurt and it’ll get dark but everything is gonna turn out alright so thanks for sticking with me and continuing to stick with me. im sorry if you dont like it or your expectations were subverted or if this isn’t what you’d hoped it would be after following and waiting around for so long but this was planned a long time ago and it took me a good year or two to recognize that I started writing this fic for me and now I’m going to end it writing for me and I hope yall can respect that

ALSO I asked my best BEST FRIEND in the entire world @cptnbvcks to collaborate with me for this after we both took a very long break from creating and she drew some GORGEOUS artwork for this chapter so it will be posted at the end, everyone please go follow her and say hello

ps brittany girl you’re a fuckin menace i had to use my own two ears and listen to ethan literally say the words “the mandalorian cums, hard” what the fuck was that im actually suing

anyways chapter below the cut lets get serious yall

---

You take two of them down before they even realize they’re being attacked.

Your aim is as swift and steady as if Din were behind your shoulder right now, calmly pointing out which stationary tree to hit next in rapid succession.  You’re positioned perfectly at the bottom of the ramp to take full advantage of the ambush, the only thing running through your mind is strategy and the constant calculating of angles and ricochets.  The other three troopers are trapped inside the open Crest and you’re right next to a large boulder that you can step behind for cover, but it proves unnecessary as the rumors were apparently true.

They’re… awful.

Not a single blaster is even fired in your direction—you think you see maybe one panicked red shot bounce around in the hull, but that’s it.  The troopers fumble for their guns and trip over each other at the unexpected attack—a few scream like children through the modulators, but you’re temporarily deaf to anything besides the screech of your weapon hitting its target and the crumpling of armored bodies.

Later on, if someone were to ask you to describe exactly what happened—who died first, who ran for cover, who cried out for help—you don’t think you’d be able to.  You don’t even really feel like a person right now.  The entire thing is cold, robotic survival instinct, pure ruthlessness rising in your soul for the first time in your life.  It feels sick.  Wrong in your bones.  Born from preemptive defense in fear of your life, but that doesn’t mean you stop.  Not until all of them stop moving.

You empty the entire fucking canister for a handful of stormtroopers, firing plasma and char marks across every square inch of the pristine hull even after the last one drops.  Your heart is beating too fast, your finger keeps pulling the trigger multiple times even after the blaster clicks uselessly, completely empty and beeping a warning that it must’ve begun emitting ages ago.  Being out of ammo scares you—you suddenly feel vulnerable, even though the very far away logical part of your mind reminds you that they have to all be dead at this point and no physical threat was ever able to graze you.

Regardless, you quickly spin behind the boulder and grab another canister from your belt, giving it a spare check for leaks while the empty one slides and drops to the rocky ground.  It’s the first time you’ve ever had to reload this weapon instead of just pointing and shooting, but the mechanics are relatively simple and your brain makes up for your lack of coherent thoughts with lightning fast perception.  What's difficult is that your hands are starting to shake now that you’re not aiming, you’re not breathing correctly because you’re not really breathing at all.  You can’t tell the difference between the adrenaline-fueled dissociative silence that muffles everything around you or if it really is just that quiet now.  No more clatter of armor, no modulated voices or terrified screams.  No blasters, no footsteps along the ramp, no birds singing.

You quickly pause to lift your elbow and check the enormous eyes blinking up at you, tiny claws still holding tight to the fabric of your tunic and completely unharmed, and then you force yourself to move.  The blaster is held out in front of you while you walk forward and your finger rests on the trigger, begging to be pulled again.  It’s suspenseful and terrifying in a different way than before—now it’s less about psyching yourself up for confrontation and more about the fact that any sudden movement could mean your very swift end.

Silence.  Silence.  You’re numb and raw at the same time, walking up the ramp as your eyes fly everywhere, not even registering the blood or gore, just searching for movement.  You don’t know if you feel like a predator or prey, you’re that much more brutal and inhuman because of how fucking terrified you are.  You count four stormtroopers in the hull laying crumpled and still on the metal floor, but the one in the far corner only has blood on his shoulder.  You quickly swing the blaster around to remedy that, but then—

“P-Please don’t kill me!”

His words remind you of something.  Reality, maybe.  A world outside yourself and the kid’s survival, the living beings behind the bloody armor your enemies wear.

It’s a miracle your finger stays hovering over the trigger, and you watch him throw the blaster at your feet with a clang and scramble to show you his empty hands.  “Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me—I’m not loyal to the Empire, I don’t want to be here, please, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die—”

Behind the mask, your expression furrows.  Stormtroopers are loyal to the bitter end, what is he saying?  They embrace their expendiality, it’s the only thing that makes them any sort of a real threat.  Kuiil told you horror stories about them during your childhood, the cloning facilities and the propaganda they’re force fed since infancy.  It’s nearly impossible to find one who hasn’t been raised from birth to serve the Empire, no matter how crumbled and trace its remaining authority may be.

No, this is a trap, it has to be.  Your expression twists with dread after hearing him speak, readjusting your aim with the blaster and preparing yourself for the years of nightmares that’ll follow—but then he cries out, “Wait!” and then removes his helmet with trembling hands.

You pause, staring down at him in shock.

It’s him, you recognize him immediately.  It’s the same face from a hologram puck you bore into your memory, spent multiple days staring at so you’d be able to spot him under any disguise or circumstances.  Oshua Ryler.  Your quarry, the fifth puck, the one Din was out Maker knows where searching for before this entire mess happened.  A stormtrooper?  His puck said nothing about the Empire, this doesn’t make any sense.  What is he doing here?  Stormtroopers don’t have pucks, they don’t have bounties or relatives or loved ones searching for them.  They’re brainwashed, replaceable, faceless soldiers in suits of armor and they don’t even have names.

“Please don’t kill me,” he begs again, staring at you with wide eyes even as he cowers.  “I have a family, I-I just want to go home, please—”

“Shut up.”  You can’t think straight with him crying like that and you’re wasting so much time just standing here trying to process when your brain had to literally shut itself down to even do the things you’ve already done.  You have to kill him and escape, you have to—you can’t trust this complication, not with the tiny claws currently digging into your back and reminding you of your purpose, but it was so much easier when he had on a helmet.  You hate looking at his face.  It’s going to haunt your dreams now, just like the man you stabbed on Corellia.

“Please don’t kill me—please don’t kill me,” he screws his eyes up and breathes over and over instead, and your stomach wrenches with disgust.  His posture and expression are so fucking pitiful, you can barely keep your eyes on him through the overwhelming nausea and aversion that climbs up your throat.  He’s with the Empire, and they’re looking for the baby.  You know what needs to be done.  Pull the trigger, just one small movement from you and it’ll be all over.  It would be the easiest thing in the world, it would be so easy.

But then instead, you ask, “Why are you a stormtrooper?”

“I’m n-not—I hate the Empire—”

“The Empire is ashes.”  You don’t know if you’re yelling or whispering with how much blood is roaring through your ears.  “They hold no power anymore.  Why are you with them?”

“Because the one thing they have left is money!”  The quarry shrills the words at you, ghostly pale to the point of turning green.  “Th-They buy troopers now—they opened up a whole new market for the smugglers, there’s a base nearby that’s used for training and…”  He stares wide eyed at you and gulps.  “C-Conditioning.”

Your brain is already going a trillion lightyears an hour and it doesn’t have the capacity to empathize or understand anything beyond the child’s survival and the relevant details right now.  “Were they expecting the baby?”

“W-What?”  He squeaks up at you.

“Was the bounty put out on you a trap set by the Empire?”  You ask him, lifting your free arm just enough to flash him the tiny child clinging to your side.  “He said they’re coming after the baby, so tell me if this was planned from the beginning.”

“Who is ‘he’?”  The stormtrooper asks, furrowing his eyebrows and looking around.  “What are you talki—”

“Tell me if the bounty on you was a trap to take this baby!”  You roar, your blaster shaking as you aim it down at him.  Your mind is acutely focused on the tiny claws hanging onto your tunic, the continued safety of the kid and the life or death situation facing him that you were given absolutely no information about.  “Now—”

“If it was I didn’t know!”  He quickly cries out, pleading with you and clamping his eyes shut in terror under the barrel sight.  “I don’t know anything about a b-baby, or a bounty!  They just put blasters in our hands and told us to search for a ship and to bring back anyone we find alive, I swear!”

You’re silent for a moment, biting your lip under the mask and caught halfway between discerning and stalling.  You could still kill him.  You should still kill him, time is ticking down and more troopers could be heading this way any second.

Shit.  “Who put the bounty out on you?”  You ask sharply.  It might not be a completely fair question, but he can’t exactly blame you for not feeling completely fair right now.

“I—I don’t know,” he gasps, clutching his bleeding shoulder.  “Could’ve been anyone—my mother, Cyra, o-or my dad, Obediah, or Thia, or Benja, or S—”

“Thia,” you interrupt his rambling, catching the slurred word and repeating it back to him.

“Yes!”  Oshua jerks his head up, tears and hope immediately filling his eyes at the sound of her name, “Yes, Thiadura Celi Ryler, that’s my sister!”

Maker, if he’s lying, then he’s fucking brilliant at it.  You look towards the cockpit of the ship, biting your lip under the mask.  Get to Nevarro, tell Karga and he’ll… something.  Din was cut off before he finished.  Help?  Know what to do?  You’re lost, but you have a clear directive and the precious seconds are sliding by.  The controls are right up there, two steps to the ladder and less than a minute until you’re rising into the atmosphere.

But then you think back to the terror in Din’s voice.  The blistering panic that made him speak faster and with more urgency than you’ve ever heard from him.  Get to Nevarro.  Tell Karga.  Get to Nevarro.  Tell Karga.

You look back at the quarry.  “How many of you are there?”

“At the base?  Around three hundred,” he immediately spills.  “Half of us are in the hole right now getting brainwashed, they do it in shifts, but they can be mobilized in a few hours.  There were a lot of bodies outside when we were ordered to split off, maybe a third of our squadron, but the rest were still shooting at whatever was—”

“So around a hundred left,”  You finish breathlessly, almost wanting him to speak faster and cut to the chase so you can calculate quicker.  “How many were dispatched on the search?”

“Uh, there were eight groups of five sent in each major direction,” he informs you, still trembling on the ground.  “Told us not to come back until we covered the entire sector.”

Of which, four you’ve already taken care of.  In other circumstances, you’d be nauseated at the thought, but right now, it’s just another number to subtract, just more panicked math in Din’s frightening absence.  That leaves at least sixty troopers left wherever the base is, minimum, and likely a couple more hours before they’ve combed the sector.  If this wasn’t a preconceived trap purposefully set for the kid, then that means reinforcements haven’t arrived yet but likely will soon.  And if this is a base meant for training and conditioning, then that also means there’s a chance not all of them will be loyal yet.

You make the decision immediately.

“Okay,” you announce, clicking the blaster’s safety switch and holstering it, sounding lightyears more certain than you feel.  “Then you’re going to help me carry out a rescue mission, and I’ll take you back to your sister.”

“You…”  He looks uncertain, blinking at your blaster and slowly lowering his hands.  “You want to rescue the men?”

Ideally?  Sure.  Realistically?  You don’t say anything in response.  Instead, you kick his regulation firearm at your feet further away from the quarry just in case your judgment is flawed, and then turn around and grab one of the bodies behind you.

Your adrenaline is still blaring so fast that you only just barely note the severity of what you’ve just done and what you’re continuing to do.  The corpses aren’t real to you right now, they’re inanimate things that you need out of your ship before you can close the doors to it.  They are, however, heavy as fuck, but the only other adult here has a wound in his arm from the gun on your hip.  Regardless, you have experience with lifting dead weight without a big, strong, capable man to do it for you.

“Help me out here, kid,” you mutter over your shoulder, and in response, you feel his claws dig in and climb up just a little bit until he can peek out in front of you.  Thankfully, the burden is suddenly lifted and you can quickly slide the dead troopers down the ramp with ease.  It takes hardly any time at all—you just yank and haul and release and all four of them tumble the rest of the way all by themselves.

When you stand back up, Oshua hasn’t moved and he’s looking at you with a pale, queasy expression.  Glancing down, you see that your white robe is now stained with streaks and patches of rusty blood.  Instead of swallowing back bile at the sight and bolting to the shower to scrub off every last remaining trace, you breeze past it, noting nothing more than a change of color.  Dirtying your white, pristine clothing with the consequences of protecting this baby—you’d rather have blood-soaked fabric with an unharmed kid clinging to you than any other combination of those things.

“Can you make it up to the cockpit?”  You ask the quarry, kicking his rifle off the ship before closing the ramp and then gesturing up the ladder.  Your voice is calm and steady but your hands are beginning to shake again.  “I need as much information as possible about the base.”  You know that’s where Din is, judging from the wall of blaster screeches that drowned him out through the comm.  Logically, you know you could be headed right into a trap, and every instinct inside you wants to find safety, but… you just cannot imagine flying the ship away from this planet without Din onboard.  It isn’t fucking happening, you’ve made your choice.

Without waiting for a response, you climb the ladder and plop down in the pilot’s seat of the Crest.  While Oshua finds some way to clamber up the steps behind you in bulky stormtrooper armor with one good arm, you hold the kid closer on your lap and begin flight checking.  Din will be fucking furious, but the scolding you’ll be sure to get is the least of your worries right now.  Following his instructions and going back to Nevarro is just making shit infinitely more dangerous for him, turning what could be a potential rescue mission into an undeniable suicide mission.  Even if Karga somehow decides to send a few guild members along to infiltrate the base, it’ll be a war you want to avoid.

Besides.  What did you always tell him about running away from him, even when he instructs you to?

It’s just… not really your thing.

---

They’re everywhere.

They crawl like flies out of the base, and for every single body that falls, three more spill from the open doors.  Rapid fire plasma beams launch from the end of Din’s blaster, melting white armor with every twitch of his gloved finger.  Their aim is terrible, as is to be expected, but the sheer number of them more than makes up for it, as is by design.

Din’s heart pounds with exertion, his breath comes in ragged huffs through the modulator as his helmet identifies and isolates which body is closest to him, which body he needs to bring down next.  His blaster is so hot it nearly burns his hand, even through the thick gloves he wears.  When he runs out of ammo, he holsters the pistol and swings his rifle from around his shoulder, spinning to catch a handful of troopers behind him in the obliterating blast.

He’s not thinking much.  He can’t think, even though your safety and that of his son is currently dangling by a thread.  If he focuses on that, he’ll be dead before he can even picture your faces.  He just reacts, he maims and kills without a single thought in his mind.  Blood splatters, screams and sirens blare as he becomes surrounded by more and more troopers.  Din can hear the sound of plasma colliding and ricocheting off his armor; every single one of them is a potential injury he could currently have but might not even be able to feel right now.

His helmet starts beeping rapidly and he turns just enough to see, highlighted in bright red on the screen, two enormous artillery turrets slowly rising up out of the roof of the imperial base.  He feels a fierce flash of anger burn in his chest, it’s like a lightning strike to his veins.

Din needs to go.

And yet… if he was another man.  If he wasn’t a father, or a husband, if he had no family and no attachments like the creed declared he should, he would go.  With just a twitch of his fingers, he could be launching into the sky and retreating as far away from this battlefield as he could reasonably get.  He’s never been the type to run from a threat, but this isn’t just a threat.  Dozens of troopers are gaining on him, they’re trampling their own dead to get within range.  Plasma pings off his shoulder, another one hits his back as they flank from behind.  He can feel the heat through the sizzling beskar, he can see them surrounding him on all sides, and the propulsion trigger for his jetpack is right there under his wrist.

Din holds his ground and continues firing, he plants his feet firmly to the dirt with only one thought in his mind.

Run, sweet girl.  Run.

---

You type in commands to scan for Din’s signal, quickly locating it through the Crest’s computer onboard.  Not far from here, three minutes or less.  The ship rumbles to life beneath you, slowly lifting off the rocky ground and rotating in place as it hovers.  It’s not on autopilot but you feel like you are, you can barely feel your hands as they move the yoke forward and the Crest takes off in the direction of Din’s blinking frequency.

“Tell me about defenses,” you instruct Oshua, restlessly bouncing your leg while the baby coos.

“Two plasma turrets on top of the base,” the quarry quickly answers.  “There’s usually guards stationed around the perimeter, but everyone who’s capable will be outside right now.”

Your mouth twists downwards under the mask.  Blasters don’t scare you much from this high up, but Din’s armor doesn’t cover every inch of his body, he’s not completely invincible.  Doubt churns in your stomach, but you have to stay focused on one task at a time so you don’t get overwhelmed.  The turrets, then.  “Are they automatic?”

“Manual,” he corrects with a shake of his head.

“Radar?”

“Old.  Only engages above fifty meters.”

You eye your altitude and dip the Crest considerably, beginning to weave through the rocky canyons and dodging crumbling cliffs while you travel.  “What about ships?”

“None,” Oshua says, “except for a passenger shuttle used for transport.  TIEs are flown in the Vesta sector, this base is remote and used for basic training only.”

“Anything else?”  You ask, stomach twisting with the knowledge that barely four questions is all you’ve got.  You’re planning to drop into an imperial base to save the man you love and you can’t think of a single other question?  

The quarry shrugs, and your heart slams, does somersaults in your chest at the mere notion that you could fucking die here.  Today, in two minutes or less, you could die here.  The child in your lap looking over the ship’s front panel with a quiet determination in his eyes could die here.  Din could already be dead—that signal broadcasts his location to this computer regardless of whether he’s still breathing or not.  He could already be gone and you’d be flying the baby right into a trap without knowing any differently.

Whelp, you think while taking a deep breath, some strangely calm existential acceptance beginning to flood your soul.  If he isn’t dead, he will be soon if you don’t make it to him on time.

You immediately lift your wrist and speak into the communicator.  “Mando?”  You have no idea if he can hear you, but you need to try anyway.  Your voice is still firm, there’s a strength to it you don’t feel in your chest, but it certainly sounds convincing.  “I’m coming to get you.  Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside.  If you can’t, I’ll just… uh.  Try to figure something else out.”

That’s it.  That’s it, improvise until you don’t have to.  Even if you’re lacking confidence, you can at least scrounge up some conviction.  Your arms gain feeling again while you veer the Crest through the stony terrain, the familiar reverberations under your feet begin to fill your body with a powerful sense of purpose.  Your breaths begin to come steady, every falling rock you see through the transparisteel feels like it drops in slow motion, allowing you to evade them easily.  It would normally be stupidly dangerous to fly this low with so many unexpected obstacles and hazards narrowly missing the ship, but considering what you’re flying into, a few boulders seems comical.

“Where’s your helmet?”  Oshua asks out of nowhere, and for a second, you don’t think you heard him correctly.

But then it strikes you all at once what he’s attempting to imply, and the sheer lunacy of the thought is enough to make you laugh while you clutch the controls.  “I’m not a Mandalorian.”

“You wear the armor of one,” he points out… rather fairly, you have to admit.  “You cover your face like one.  You have a blaster that fires Philithiorium, a rare and expensive gas native to Mandalore’s stratosphere, and you’re a bounty hunter—”

“I’m not a Mandalorian.”  Your words are short and cutting, you have a daunting task to focus on and don’t feel like having small talk right now.  “I’m not a bounty hunter, either.”

But then again, Karga made you a member of the Guild, didn’t he?  He handed you Oshua’s puck and said this one is for you to find, and you are technically part of a Mandalorian clan.  All of this seems like it happened without your knowledge.  You may be marrying a Mandalorian, you may wear his armor and mother his child and shoot a blaster with his signet branded into it, but war isn’t in your blood.  This robe was a costume when you first made it, this armor was a relic that was restored as a hobby.  In a sense, it still feels that way.  The mask covering your face lended itself to a temporary surge of bravery earlier, but beyond that, the only thing that’s keeping you moving forward now is your family.  The man you love that may or may not be alive right now, the baby holding tight to your leg while the ship sways and weaves through the stony landscape.

Your eyes quickly flick down to the child in your lap, both of his three fingered hands clutching onto the stained fabric of your knee without moving a single inch.  He’d know, you tell yourself.  If his father is gone, he’d already know somehow.  Din is still alive, and he’s counting on you.

---

There’s too many for Din to handle.

They swarmed him, overpowered his endless artillery with massive numbers and there’s nothing he can do anymore.  The backs of his knees are kicked from behind and he slams down to the ground with a clatter, his sizzling hot blasters are ripped from him, and Din folds his hands calmly behind his back even as one of the stormtroopers barks out, “Binders,” to another one, who disappears quickly in response.  In the meantime, a few of them apparently decide to just attempt holding his arms in place, and their measly combined grip is almost enough to make him roll his eyes under the helmet.  These imperial soldiers are even more pitiful than they usually are, but his silent resolve to stall to ensure your escape is enough to keep him stationary and compliant for the time being.

Eventually, a few voices call out from beyond the crowd and there’s some movement from the back.  Dozens of troopers with their blasters all pointed at him begin to shuffle to make way, careful to keep their barrels aimed at him while a path slowly forms.  The crowd of white parts and a stormtrooper with a singular red pauldron on his right shoulder saunters confidently towards Din as he kneels on the ground.

An officer, he assumes.  Conveniently missing from the firefight, the scanner inside his helmet would’ve caught the change in color and Din would’ve made sure to kill him first.

“Well now, what do we have here?”  Comes his thin metallic voice through the tinny filter.  The officer studies him curiously for a few moments, before slowly looking down by his feet, reaching out one cheap, plastic covered foot to gently nudge the body of a dead trooper on the ground with a sigh.  “What a shame.”

Coward, he thinks, his lip curling with disgust under the helmet.

“This is an imperial training base,” he turns his attention back to Din to inform him when he doesn’t immediately respond, rather stupidly he might add.  “How were you able to find us?”

Silence.  The grip on hands held behind his back is even looser now.  He just tilts his chin up slightly in defiance, the scanner inside his helmet locating each weapon strapped to the man’s body and highlighting it red.  Small text boxes blink into existence under each one with a manufacturer and classification—a BlasTech E-11 rifle, a Merr-Sonn thermal detonator, a Kolvo vibroblade—and Din is severely unimpressed with the quality.  The detonator is the only weapon that even catches his eye, and that’s only because the chamber inside that houses the explosive baradium has a release mechanism that’s completely dead.  Useless, then.  Good to know.

After a long moment of quiet tension where Din refuses to speak and the officer continues to confidently scrutinize him, in some strange sort of silent battle of egos that only one seems to have a genuine interest in, another stormtrooper makes his way to the front, shoving past his fellow soldiers to address the superior in charge.

“Commander, we’ve sent out an alert for an intruder,” he tells him, slightly out of breath from running through the crowd in the lightweight armor.  Din wants to roll his eyes, but what he says next makes him snap to immediate attention.  “The fleet informed us that Moff Gideon is currently on route.”

Gideon.  The last time someone spoke that name, it was a quarry on Coruscant and you just barely managed to stop Din from suffocating the bastard for even saying it aloud before freezing him in carbonite.  It would’ve meant half the return on a hunt that lasted nearly a month but he saw red and his hand was crushing his windpipe before he realized what happened.  But he’s dead, Din thinks with a clenched jaw and fists tightening behind his back, he watched that TIE fighter explode and slam into the ground, crushing the man inside it.  The wreck was unsurvivable, he can’t be alive.

“For what?  This Mandalorian?”  The trooper in charge scoffs in response, and Din remains completely mute.

“Yes, sir,” the other one confirms.  “Orders were to capture him, alive.”

“Hm.”  The officer turns his attention back to him, less analyzing and more musing while he tilts his head.  “I see,” he eventually says, and he sounds like he’s grinning, before strolling slightly closer as Din stays completely still on his knees.  “He must want the beskar.  I’m sure it’s worth more than this entire battalion combined.”

All of a sudden, a gloved hand carelessly catches the rim of his helmet and tugs, and Din’s movement is explosive.  He launches off the ground, arms easily slipping from the pathetic grip they were being held in and his fist colliding with the side of the officer’s flimsy white helmet, the plastic making a deafening crack against his face.

Multiple hands immediately rush forward to grab him and yank him back down again while the commanding trooper stumbles backwards in shock, and Din amicably drops to his knees and folds his hands behind his back once more like nothing happened at all.

“Binders!”  A trooper behind him roars loudly once more, and a few men surrounding him begin trotting away this time.

The officer in red stands a few feet away from him now, grabbing his helmet and twisting it back to its proper position on his head where it was skewed.  There’s a shattered hole near his jaw where the material splintered and busted like the cheap piece of banthashit it is, and while he might normally feel pleased with himself for being able to see his skin peeking through, it just fills him with more righteous fury.  It’s such a punchable jaw.

After a few awkward moments of silence, the other one clears his throat and continues.  “He… has inquired about the location and status of a child that should be accompanying him.”

Din inhales deeply through his nose and grinds his teeth.  He wants to snap their necks one by one for even just mentioning his son, but there are just too many, more than even his whistling birds can neutralize.  Still, he gave you as much of a head start as physically possible.  You should be rising into the atmosphere right now, making the jump into hyperspace towards safety.  Karga will know what to do—he’ll protect his family, separate you and the boy so the threat is evenly dispersed instead of collected all in one place, and arm dozens of trained hunters to keep watch over you both individually.  It’s the best Din can do, and it’s the only thing keeping his knees planted on the ground and his body completely motionless while they continue speaking.

“We are combing the sector for a ship with as many men as we can afford to lose,” the trooper in red says, but his voice filter is shattered and now sounds like a puny little droid with a broken voice box, “but our numbers are unimpressive.  Assistance may be required.”

It’s too late, Din thinks, mouth twitching under the beskar with a satisfied smirk.  They’re wasting their time, looking for a ghost.  You’re both long gone by now.  They’ve got no idea you even exist—

“He also spoke of a girl.”

And then he feels his heart stop in his chest.  Every single cell in his body turns to fire, it’s a fucking miracle he doesn’t move a muscle in response.  His sweet girl, the one so far removed from the nightmare of the Empire that she made best friends with the orphans of it.  How the fuck did he know?  He shouldn’t even be breathing, let alone gathering information about you, how did he know?

But then Din thinks back, remembering your makeshift bed on the floor, your panicked eyes and heaving chest as the quarry taunted him with a sick little smile.  Who’s this, Mando?  She’s just darling, isn’t she?  Does Gideon know your crew has a lovely new addition?

“A girl?”

The trooper nods.  “Moff Gideon insisted that if the Mandalorian did not have a child with him, then a girl would likely be protecting him instead.”

He’s going to kill them, Din decides.  Every single one of these imperial pigs, every single soldier standing right now is a dead fucking man.  The blood pumping through his body suddenly turns to acid, deadly black hate poisoning his soul.  His heartbeat morphs into a war drum, the armor strapped to his limbs is the barrel of a gun.  He’s going to fucking kill them and leave an imperial base full of bodies to greet his old nemesis upon his return, and he’s going to enjoy every single second of it.

Except, then—

“Mando?”  The sweetest voice in existence suddenly crackles through the earpiece under his helmet.  “I’m coming to get you.  Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside.  If you can’t, I’ll just… uh.  Figure something else out.”

And, as Din kneels there in surrender, surrounded by a crowd of enemies he thought he destroyed long ago, all the anger—all the fury and defiance and murder surging through his veins—suddenly morphs to fear.

The emotion is so foreign and old to him, it feels like a face he barely recognizes and a name he can’t remember.  He’s panicked before.  He’s been in situations where a threat has made him blind with rage, he knows what it’s like to look death straight in the eyes and say that he’s busy and to come back another time.  This is different.  This is ice cold that freezes over beskar.

He can’t speak out loud to warn you—he can’t move his hands to press the button on the back of his helmet and allow him to talk without detection.  There’s plasma turrets on the roof of the base, he can see them right now.  The helmet’s scanners say they’re manned and engaged, and though he is outside and this is how you retrieved him before whenever he needed a quick escape, he has fifty fucking imperial blasters trained on him and you know absolutely nothing about this threat.  You’re flying right into a war zone and if either you or his son dies, he won’t ever be able to forgive himself.

Behind the helmet, his eyes fly to each and every trooper, wondering which blaster will be the one to do it.  Which weapon is going to be the one he can’t block in time when you descend, the one that’ll kill him right in front of you.  Which turret will be the one to obliterate the Crest with you and his son inside of it.

“Maker, where are those fucking binders—” he hears someone behind him snarl, but the white noise of pure terror roaring through his ears drowns them out.  His chest starts heaving against his will, sheer panic begins to blur his vision.  For the first time in his life, his armor feels too heavy, his lungs feel like one of these boulders are sitting on them instead of beskar.

All too soon, his helmet starts making a familiar sound that signals quietly in his ear, alerting him of an incoming ship, and the only thing he can physically do is count down the seconds to prepare himself for what is to come.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…

Like lightning, Din breaks the grip of multiple troopers and surges up, tackling the officer in red to the ground.  There’s a clatter as they both slam into the rocky floor, but in the ensuing scuffle, he easily snatches the thermal detonator from his side holster and holds it up for everyone to see, before pressing the red button on the front and hearing it begin to beep rapidly.

---

You’re right on time.

The Crest rises up through the rocky cliffs surrounding the base and you spot the turrets you were warned about.  Weapons controls are already engaged and you’re too low to be detected by radar—you fire once, twice, and blast both of them to smithereens from behind before they can even rotate around to target you.

Alarms start wailing but the guns are destroyed.  It’s not comforting, though; blasters won’t touch you up here, but that doesn’t mean they can’t fire at Din on the ground.  Your eyes dart across the sea of white, looking for a flash of silver anywhere, and then you spot him instantly in the chaos.

For some reason, the troopers in his vicinity all seem to be bolting away from him.  Their rifles are down, clutched in their hands while they nearly fall over each other to run away as fast as possible, and your heart soars when you spot his jetpack firing up.  Din launches into the sky while another trooper is revealed underneath him, seeming to juggle something in his hands and then throw it into the crowd of retreating soldiers, but the sight of the man you love rising into the air while a flurry of blaster shots from the far edges of the imperial structure follow him gives you the confidence to immediately turn the guns down towards the horde of troopers.

“Which ones are in charge?”  You ask Oshua breathlessly, who leans forward and points out the transparisteel.

“Red pauldrons—” he barely has time to say it before you aim and fire at one of the troopers wearing red that was closest to Din, the plasma beam launching from the Crest so powerful and devastating that it outright obliterates the surface he’s laying on.  Pieces of shattered armor fly and a smoking crater of rubble is all that’s left behind, but your mind is whirling and you’re already onto someone else wearing red at the edges of the complex, and then two more near the doors, and then another—

To their credit, you think the sixty or so soldiers in training seem to figure out that you’re not aiming into the enormous collection of them.  If you were, the damage would be catastrophic and spraying everywhere, but you’re precise and meticulous with your shots, and the only ones who are loyal enough to the cause to hold still and raise their blasters at the incoming threat tend to be the ones you need to mow down anyways.  The rest of them scatter in all directions, scrambling over each other to escape and then disappearing into the distant boulders surrounding the base—but you notice that not a single one of them runs back inside the safety of its open doors.

The hull dips with the weight of Din dropping in, and relief floods your soul even as you continue raining hell down on the superiors in charge.  Any flash of color you see is a target, your eyes lose focus of everything, your vision blurs and turns monochrome as you just search for red.

“Lift up!”  You hear Din’s voice roar from the hull.  You can hear his rifle unloading through the open door.  “Now!  We have to go now!”

You press the button to shut the hull door with Din inside and punch it, rising so fast that the shove of gravity makes it difficult to keep your head up.  Through the sudden surge of downward force, you just barely manage to raise your incredibly heavy arm to push the button that pressurizes the Crest and ignites the launch boosters, preparing the vessel for space travel.  Outside the transparisteel, the gray sky begins darkening as the atmosphere eventually disappears.  The ship’s engines roar, burning so much fuel at once that you’re actually accelerating through the climb, you’re boosting through the gradual ease of gravity as the planet’s curvature and glow becomes softer and softer below you.

As soon as the blackness of space begins to fill the windows, the slight subsiding of force allows you to plug in the coordinates for Nevarro with less difficulty, but you’re still moving, still rising, still escaping.  You can’t find it within yourself to slow down, but then something catches your attention.

Claws suddenly dig sharp into your thigh, sharp enough to sting and cause you to wince, and you look down to see that the kid has gone incredibly tense.  Deadly tense.  Your heart is still pounding even though you’re away from danger, you’ve got Din in the hull, everyone is safe, and yet—

It flickers into existence all at once.  One second it’s just space, just the endless depths of nothingness spread out for light years in front of you, and within the blink of an eye it’s suddenly there.

A star destroyer.

Your body freezes in horrified awe, having never seen a ship so fucking big in your entire life.  It looks like a massive satellite, the size of an enormous asteroid instantly appearing in your vision and dwarfing the vastness of space around it.  All the stars you used to dream about are suddenly blotted out within a fraction of a second, terror so immense seizes your soul that you stop thinking.  You stop calculating, you stop being yourself for a split second that lasts an entire lifetime.

Before you can move a single muscle, the computer beeps quickly and lurches the Crest into hyperspace.

---

The stars streak across the transparisteel like so many times before.  Utter silence nearly deafens you with how abrupt it is after so much noise, but the peace it used to bring does nothing to quell your fear.  Everything is the same as it always was, same bursts of light as you hurdle faster than it towards Nevarro, same quiet, same rumbling hum of the ship.  But now, everything has changed.

You hear the quarry next to you suddenly inhale and exhale loudly, and it shocks you a little bit, reminds you that there’s a person next to you and another is on your lap.  Other people exist outside of the vision of death that just flickered out of existence just as quickly as it appeared.  They’re breathing, Oshua is shakily unbuckling his seatbelt, life is continuing on in the quiet cockpit but you can’t seem to move like he is.  You can’t seem to breathe like he is.  It’s only when the baby slowly maneuvers himself around on your thigh and blinks up at you, placing a tiny hand on your stomach that you finally feel air enter your lungs.

After a moment, you reach down and click open your seatbelt with trembling fingers, scooping the kid up in your arms and slowly attempting to stand.  Everything feels wobbly and dreamlike, you have to brace yourself on the headrest to prevent yourself from falling back into the chair again.

“That was…” Ryler mutters, his voice sounding foggy and distant, “uh.  A close one.”

You look over at him, recognizing that he’s speaking but not quite able to understand the words right now.  Red catches in your vision, and you blink down at the way he’s clutching his left shoulder, the smear of blood darkening the white armor he’s wearing.  You blink a few more times at the sight of it, and though it feels like you normally would be sickened at the wound, somehow shocked out of your state of shock, it does nothing to you.  When you look back up at his face, his expression seems strangely grateful, even when it’s screwed up in what you know must be excruciating pain.    You did that, a quiet voice whispers in your mind, even though the rest of it seems incredibly blank.

Instead of responding, you stumble a few steps over to the ladder, spinning around and hesitating for a moment.  You’re severely lacking in coherent thought, but one thing seems to break through.  You’re not sure if you have enough coordination to do this safely right now.  However, when there’s movement in your peripheral and you look to see Oshua gently offering his right arm to you, seeming to understand you’d like to use both hands for this, you snap back to your senses just the slightest bit and hug the baby tighter to your chest.  Carefully, you begin making the slow climb down the ladder with the kid, still trembling with the aftershocks of adrenaline.  Your limbs feel extra heavy, but eventually the floor meets your feet.

Din is standing there when you slowly turn around, armor gleaming and still as a statue, but he has his back to you.  His helmet is tilted down at the ground, and when you follow his gaze, you’re met with the sight of the bloodstains of dragged bodies that leave dark red streaks all the way up the ramp.

You feel something this time.  It’s… cold.  A burning, searing cold that creeps into your skin.  Like your heart decides to pump nitrogen through your chest instead of warm blood.  You did that.

There’s a sudden urge inside of you to speak, to address him and inform him of your presence, tell him everything is okay, everything worked out, but you can’t find it in yourself to say a single word.  You can’t find a single word to say.  The kid twists as best he can in your clutch, his ears drag against your chest to greet his father, but for some reason, there’s still a strange sense of fear in your bones.  It’s enough to wake you up slightly, it’s enough to tell you it’s not over yet.  There’s a terror in your heart that hasn’t left since he first called over the comm and begged you to run, a crippling dread that you thought climaxed after seeing that star destroyer appear, but it’s somehow only increased after laying eyes on him like this.

You watch as his helmet turns, slowly meeting the pauldron on his shoulder, and for some reason, you feel yourself harden.  Your feet brace against the metal floor like this is another threat you have to face, you let its unyielding metallic strength transfer up through the souls of your boots to your heart in your chest.

But the second you hear cheap white armor clatter as the quarry steps down the ladder behind you, Din bursts into movement.  He suddenly spins and storms up to you in one single step while catching your holstered blaster on your hip.  It’s out and aimed in the blink of an eye, and it’s a miracle you remember how to speak before he remembers how to kill.

“Mando—” you warn, just in time for the quarry to land on the floor of the hull and turn around to reveal his face.

Din holds there for a second, his helmet locked on Oshua’s features.  His gloved fingers twitch wildly on the trigger of your gun held over your shoulder, like he has to remind himself multiple times not to.  You hear Oshua’s armor clack while he likely raises one good arm in surrender, but then Din’s helmet moves a fraction of a millimeter to your face and holds there.  He just stares down at you, and the air feels heavy, your body feels heavy, the feather light child in your arms feels heavy.

Slowly, he lowers his arm, lets it fall while he continues looking at you from behind the visor.  You look back at him, unblinking, unfeeling, and there’s a few seconds that last an utter eternity where nobody moves.  Nobody speaks, nothing happens, but then a soft coo comes from your arms before you can finally break eye contact, knowing there are still some things that need to be done.

You eventually turn around and lift your chin to address Oshua.

“You have to go into carbonite,” you inform him quietly.  Your voice sounds strange, like it’s coming from outside of yourself.  “We’re taking you to Nevarro, and then you’ll be transported to your home planet. When they unfreeze you, your sister will be there to collect you.”

He looks uncertain, one hand still raised while the other hangs uselessly at his side, and you don’t blame him.

But you also don’t feel like saying anymore, not unless he decides he doesn’t want to go in willingly.  Normally you might’ve tried to empathize, offer him further reassurance beyond just a couple short sentences, but you don’t.  Speaking feels difficult, thinking feels difficult.  You’re still in survival mode, not active but reactive.  There’s also no reason for you to lie to him about this, and you can see him glance at Din standing silently behind you, who hasn’t moved a muscle.

He eventually nods and you walk him over to the chamber without another word, watch him turn to face you as he backs into the opening while you reach up towards the control panel.

But then there’s a moment.  One where you hesitate slightly, one where your vision flashes back to the sight of those bloodstains on the floor, and that burning cold fills you again, so cold it feels completely numb.

“I’m… sorry,” you whisper quietly to him, though your voice sounds so empty.  There’s so much emotion that should be there but isn’t, so much regret and pain that should break through but can’t.  “I’m sorry I… killed your friends.”

Later, you’ll think about how you felt absolutely nothing saying it.  Your heart doesn’t constrict with remorse at the mere words leaving your mouth, guilt doesn’t flood into your soul, pain doesn’t wrack through your bones.  You could’ve been saying anything at all and nobody would be able to tell the difference.

He blinks at you, flicking his eyes between yours for a second or two, but then you press the proper button and watch the gas quickly freeze him where he stands.  He’ll be conscious the entire time, but Karga will send him to the correct location and you have no doubt that this elemental purgatory is leagues better than where he just escaped from.  It’s a benefit being the last quarry to be retrieved—he’ll only have to spend a few days trapped in here before being reunited with his family.

When that’s done and Oshua is a complete statue in front of you, bulky white armor now colored a dull metallic gray and frozen in time, you will yourself to finally turn around to face the enormous mountain of a presence behind you.  The baby gently reaches out for him, but Din doesn’t move from where he’s stood.  Your blaster is still clutched tightly in his hand, and he isn’t looking at you.

Slowly, you walk over and stop directly in front of him in the middle of the hull, blinking at him while the helmet subtly moves to lock onto your face.  The kid begins wiggling in your arms, making soft impatient noises while you both stand in complete silence across from each other.

After a few moments, you hear him flick your blaster’s safety on by his side and then toss it carelessly to the ground.  It skids along the floor, light enough to be mostly quiet.  Gloves reach out as he carefully takes the kid from you and settles him in the crook of one arm, and then he looks you up and down, still not saying anything.

Your eyes follow his movement, watching his arm slowly reaching out to you, and you think he’s going to cup your jaw, or brush your hair back.  Give you some sort of physical reassurance since he hasn’t spoken a single word of it.

Instead, Din suddenly grabs the armor clinging to your chest and starts ripping it off you with one hand.  It clangs to the floor so loudly in the silence of hyperspace, the kid’s ears twitch and flutter with each shattering bang.  You hold still while he does it, you barely respond except the unavoidable movement your body experiences as the pauldron is yanked from your shoulder and thrown against the ground.  The ammo belt is tugged over your head and hurled away, the thigh braces are snatched from your legs and they clang to the floor, and the pearly, opalescent fabric revealed underneath is stained in dead man’s blood, rusty and in such great quantities that it shows up as brown instead of red.

“Are you hurt?”

He sounds… dead.  So monotonic that you can’t possibly gauge his emotional state.  He doesn’t move.   His fists don’t clench, he says every single word like it means the same exact thing as the last.  If nothing at all was a person who could speak, they’d use his tone of voice.

“No,” you eventually whisper.

The helmet nods once, and then he spins around and walks away without anything else.  Without saying anything, without touching you, or double checking you for injuries in case you were lying.  You stand utterly still while Din climbs the ladder with the kid cradled in one arm, and you don’t even flinch when the door to the cockpit slides shut behind him.  You have no idea how long you stand there in the splitting silence afterwards, numb and unmoving.

You feel… nothing.  Absolutely nothing.

The hard defenses you strapped to yourself today to reconcile the things you had to do are still high and strong, guarding your soul even if he stripped away your physical armor.  Self preservation is still animating your body, and your facial expression barely changes.  Your first thought, as soon as you remember that you can have one, is that there are things that still need to be done.  Tasks to complete.

Alone, you shower the lingering traces of blood off your body, the normally clear and refreshing water running a sickly, toxic brown.  Alone, your stomach rolls and suddenly decides to empty itself of the very little that was in it as the scalding drops rain down over you—mostly liquid and bile that easily rinses down the drain.  The water is too warm, it beats down on you like blazing hot sand pelting your skin in the desert.  You feel like you did those first few months with Din, where the silence was suffocating, where you’d only interact with the baby if he was on a hunt or if you could tell he didn’t know how to calm him when he was fussy.  If you were in hyperspace, you usually spent time by yourself in the hull while he lived in the cockpit, and if he decided he needed to be in the hull for whatever reason, then you’d trade places with him.  It was… isolating.  Lonely by yourself.  The quiet used to haunt you before it became your cherished friend, but now it’s a betrayer, a ghost that whispers memories and nightmares in your ears.

When you finally finish rinsing the blood from your skin and get dressed, you see the sheets that used to make up your bed now have fried holes in them from your charred plasma marks, the inside of the hull is covered in them and the trails of dried blood where you dragged the bodies down the ramp.  Your armor is still strewn about the hull, the kid’s hovering shield lays dead in the corner.  Everything you meticulously cleaned and organized and collected and created, now the scene of a bloodbath.  One committed by your hand, your blaster still laying uselessly on the floor forever linked to this atrocity.

You spare a glance towards the ladder, but you don’t want to come face to face with Din yet.  You already knew he’d be furious, but… you had hoped that he’d at least…

What?  At least what?  Comfort you?  Coddle you after you deliberately ignored his instructions?  What exactly, in the past year or so of learning Din’s inner workings and intricacies, would ever give you the impression that he’d come give you a big hug after you purposefully defied him?  You flew the kid directly into an imperial base after being told to protect him, you ignored every order he gave to you in the moments he thought would be his last, and though you did it to save his life, you have a feeling that Din has never valued his life even a fraction of what you do.

The misery stabs at your soul, but your mind is finally beginning to process things logically.  He’s alive, the kid is alive, the quarry is secure, and you’re all onboard the safety of this ship hurtling through hyperspace where nobody, not even the Empire, can touch you.  You weighed the consequences before making your decision, you did what you had to do.  If he wants to be mad, then he can fucking well be mad and you’ll find some way to comfort yourself.  At least he’s here being mad, at least he’s alive and safe and breathing and mad, and your rare act of disobedience is to thank for that.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize it’s probably easier than it should be to reconcile the punishment.  Right now, you welcome the exclusion, the negativity and sorrow beating itself into your soul.  Four innocent people died today on this ship, gunned down under your blaster while they panicked and ran for cover.  You keep hearing their screams.

So you start to clean up the hull, needing another task to focus your thoughts on.  You work to erase every inch of the evidence of your deeds, make it disappear like the pool of blood Din once cleaned up while you were sleeping and never acknowledged again.  You only allow the bloodstains to fuck with your head for a single moment, and then you swallow back the nausea until you’re a blank slate again and sink to your knees with a rag in your hand.  After that, your vision stops focusing and it just becomes red contrasting against gunmetal gray, and you work tirelessly to get rid of all remaining traces of it.

Then you start on the blaster marks, you need them gone.  After a few informed attempts at mixing cleaning chemicals, you find one concoction that allows you to wipe them away like they’re nothing more than dirt that got tracked in.  The Crest’s oxygen recycling system works overdrive to constantly purify the air so you don’t get high or pass out, but your nose still stings.  It’s fine, it’s sterile, it burns a bit but it smells sharp and metallic and keeps you hyper focused on the task at hand.

After that’s done, you pick up the charred blankets and ball them up to throw into the trash vent.  You don’t feel anything as you do it.  You don’t think about how long it took you to collect these over months and months of being stuck on this ship, how comfortable they were when everything else was industrial and rigid, how many nights you spent with Din curled up in their softness while he breathed easy and warm.  Sheets are just luxuries, they can afford to be lost.

Next, you gather your armor and wipe it down with the rag, put it away along with your blaster.  The stained robe goes in the trash, along with the sheets and the blood soaked cloth you used to clean everything.  They’re all ruined, you’ll never be able to make them right again.

The hull is sparkling clean when you decide to take another shower.  Nothing on you is dirty except your hands, but you feel filthy.  Wrong, cold, numb, cold, stained, cold.

After scrubbing your skin raw under the water and changing clothes again, since you don’t really know what to do with yourself anymore, you slowly climb the ladder to the cockpit, keeping perfectly silent.  When you reach the upper platform and come face to face with the closed door, you can just barely hear Din’s whispered voice speaking quietly to the baby beyond it.

You raise your hand for a moment, hovering your knuckles over the metal, but then it eventually falls.  Instead, you look over and spot the corner, the same corner Din bunched himself into when he snapped at you for even suggesting going on a hunt with him, blew up at you for the mere notion of something happening like what happened today.  You back yourself into it in defeat and slowly sink down on the floor, resting your head against the metal and hugging your knees to your chest since you don’t have a tiny baby to take their place.

You can’t sleep.  You don’t even try, it’s pointless.  The concept feels foreign the longer you sit here by yourself.  You don’t hear Din or the baby anymore, but you feel… so fucking awful that it’s fitting that you don’t knock or go looking.  You don’t want to hold that sweet child with hands that were covered in blood just a few hours ago.  You killed more people than you can count on your fingers today, and of the ones who had done nothing wrong…  They screamed like younglings, ducked for cover and were able to fire off one single useless shot in the mayhem before you closed their eyes forever and left their bodies to rot in armor that wasn’t ever their choice to wear.

You didn’t know they were kidnapped and smuggled and forced into that situation.  You couldn’t have known, but that isn’t the point.  In this case, knowing doesn’t make one bit of difference.

You also can’t face Din yet, not like this.  You don’t want him to see you cowering, shattered with guilt over the decisions you made under pressure.  How will you ever get him to forgive you for not listening to him when you can’t even forgive yourself for the result of your choices?  Din is a hardened man who grew up in blasterfire and bloodshed, just because you love him doesn’t mean he’s going to magically become someone he isn’t.  You’re here letting guilt sink sharp claws into your chest over four dead men when he had a good fifty or more corpses scattered on the battlefield around him.  You decided to wear that armor, you decided to fly into an imperial base with the kid on your lap, and this is now your penance.  You’ll accept it with your back straight and your chin held high.

Figuratively, of course.  Physically, you’re smaller than you’ve ever been.  Crumpled up into a ball, taking up as little space as possible, curling up as tight as you can like an animal protecting all your vulnerable parts during a brutal attack.

So, since he isn’t here to comfort you himself, you just try to think about what he would tell you.  A long time ago, what would he tell you?

Din would tell you… that you killed someone.  Multiple people, this time.  He’d also tell you that it doesn’t matter what he tells you, what you could have reasonably foreseen or what you should have done.  The end result won’t change.  You own this now.  You’ll carry their deaths with you.

You take a few deep breaths, self-soothing with the undeniable truth that would be murmured matter of factly from his quiet voice.  He wouldn’t argue with you.  He wouldn’t deny the decisions you made or the consequences of them.  It happened, and at the end of the day, you either learn how to handle that, or you don’t.

And, for the four you did shoot, you were responsible for freeing ten times that amount.  You’re responsible for reuniting Oshua Ryler with his family, even if your place in yours is momentarily shunned.  You’d rather be out here alone than in there with the kid, wondering where his dad is or if he’s even still alive.  You rescued Din and now he gets to be here to shut this door on you, hold his son, and whisper calm reassurances to him.  If you listen really hard and imagine, you can pretend they’re for you, too.

That’s it.  Focus on them both, alive and well together.  Focus on the bodies wearing white armor that were moving, the ones that were bolting away from the imperial training base as fast as they could, free from the torture of imprisonment and conditioning.

Finally, you close your eyes and slip into unconsciousness.  It’s not a testament to your exhaustion, but rather just how long you’ve been left to sit here by yourself.  Hours, maybe.  Time is strange in hyperspace.

You dream of a faceless man ringing bells.

---

When you wake up, a small baby has been placed in your arms, and you’re being dragged into a strong, secure beskar hold on the floor.

“Din,” you suddenly lift your head as soon as you’re conscious and nearly bonk it into solid metal, apologies rising in your throat before you even remember where you are.  You did what needed to be done to keep your family alive and together and you’d do it a thousand times again if necessary, but that doesn’t mean you won’t apologize anyways.  After the deeds you’ve committed today, regret feels as natural on your lips as speaking your own name.  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I know you’re mad at me but I—”

“Shh,” he whispers, running his gloves through your hair.  He’s still wearing his helmet, he hasn’t taken anything off yet.  “Don’t say anything.  Just… stay here, stay right here with me.”

“I tried to save you,” you croak, tears instantly flooding your eyes.  You did save him.  You saved him and the baby and yourself but you’re so physically and emotionally exhausted that all you can recall is your intent.  “I tried.  Wasn’t gonna leave you there by yourself.  I tried to be brave, like you—y-you wouldn’t have left without me.”

His arms tighten around you, cradling you in such a strong embrace that you burrow into him, you find a place for your head on the hard metal strapped to him and bury yourself there, wishing that you had shovels of dirt being piled on you to justify the death you still feel staining your soul.  Your heart is starting to pound now that you’re remembering, your body is starting to shake with tremors of shock now that you’re aware of your own skin again.

“I was so sc-scared, Din, I didn’t—didn’t know what was happening,” you lament through watery eyes, gasping it out in hopes that it’ll relieve the slightest bit of the gut wrenching guilt just mercilessly crushing you.  It caught you before you could protect yourself against it, that armor you built around yourself isn’t on when you first wake up.  “I-I didn’t want to kill them, but they were already on the ship and y-you said—you said they were coming after the kid s-so I had to, I had to—”

“Stop,” Din whispers, voice so quiet that you can barely hear him.

“I-I cleaned up the blood,” you turn your face against the cold beskar to let all the positives you listed for yourself before scrape across your throat.  They don’t sound comforting anymore, they just sound like excuses.  “It’s gone, it’s like it never happened, everything is okay now, I got the quarry, I protected the baby, I saved a bunch of people, you’re both safe—”

“Stop,” he chokes out.  The modulator cuts off before you can hear his next breath, but you feel it shudder under your body.  “St-Stop it, please.”

Your eyes clench shut so tightly you feel like the streaking stars outside are behind them, tears drop down against his pauldron and you press your face tighter to it like it’s a wound, like the pressure will somehow ease the bleeding.

“Listen to me,” he says very quietly, and you instantly brace yourself.  The walls you just let down shoot right back up, your body physically tightens in preparation for another pain, another trauma, another scar you’ll carry, and you stop shaking.  You stop breathing, even when his hand comes up to ease your face away from his armor.

“You,” he whispers, holding your chin so you’re staring right at him, and your eyes flick fearfully in between his behind the visor, “are a sweet girl.”  Din’s leather thumb brushes along your skin, dragging over the tears below your puffy eyes.  “Not,” his voice catches, “a Mandalorian.”

Your heart goes cold.  Again, everything turns numb.  It doesn’t matter that you already said this yourself out loud earlier today.  It doesn’t matter that you acknowledged this fact, verbally insisted it more than once to hammer home the truth and felt some sense of comfort in it.  For some reason, hearing the words from his mouth is a fucking knife to your chest.

“I taught you how to fight, how to shoot a blaster,” he murmurs, thumb catching every single tear that continues to fall as he speaks.  “I taught you everything I know, everything that’s been taught to me.  I taught you how to defend yourself, how to protect yourself when you’re in danger.  I gave you your blaster, I gave you my armor, I gave you everything I could give you to keep you safe.  And when I thought you were ready, I let you loose on Sanctuary II.  Do you know why I did that?”  The helmet tips forward the slightest bit at the question, probing deep into the most shattered part of your heart.  “After all those months of fighting, and shooting, and training, do you know why I told you to run?”

You blink silently at him, a shaky breath quaking through you, and your expression wants to crumple under the reprimand.  You’re so fragile right now, taking hit after hit after hit to the softest parts inside you, and you want to just give up.  Let the guilt and remorse take you, let it wash you away.  But then, instead…

There’s a flicker of something inside you.  Something strong, endlessly strong, and it makes you want to revolt against what he’s saying.  It replaces the hurt and fear and desperation for comfort with a strange sense of insurgence, like it did earlier when you were hiding behind a boulder, cowering and trembling and not wanting to die.  You’re filled with a quiet urge to defend yourself in the face of this, stand up for yourself and refuse to be beaten down any longer.

“Because you needed to know how to escape danger,” he answers himself when you don’t.  “You needed to know how to disappear, how to outsmart any pursuer and find safety, even the trained ones.  Especially the trained ones.  Anything else was meant to be your last resort.  Not your choice.  Not something you chose.”

“I couldn’t leave you,” you admit to him quietly, voice shaky and tears still coming even as you try to speak up for yourself.  The regret you carry has nothing to do with this, and you decide right now that you won’t feel bad for saving him.  Your hurt comes from the meaningless things, the ones without any need whatsoever, not the necessary ones, and you tried.  You repeated his words to yourself over and over again, told yourself to run, told yourself to get to Nevarro, and it wasn’t going to happen.  “I couldn’t do it.  It wasn’t a choice.”

“It was,” he tells you.  He says it softly, whispers it like it’s the gentlest thing in the world, but the power and inherent distance of the armor strapped to his body finds its way into the words.  “And it was the wrong one.”

“What was I supposed to do?”  You ask, just a hint of that rebellion swimming to the surface now, rising out of the waves of self doubt, the one that feels like a spine growing in your back, an energy coursing through your veins that makes your heart start to beat faster.  Din’s hand slowly drops from your cheek but you don’t care.  “Was I supposed to run away and just let you die?”

“Yes.”  It’s quick and blunt and completely emotionless.  Delivered like a punch to the vulnerable parts of yourself he taught you how to protect, and the utter silence following this single word is comparable to the physical pain you learned to defend against.  It jabs hard against everything good and sweet and tender inside of you, and you’re left speechless even as he continues impassively.  “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do.”

It takes a second, but then that unfamiliar feeling suddenly surges up, breaches with the power of an entire ocean.  Your voices may be nothing more than whispers in the dark, you may be clinging to each other, holding each other with the softest, gentlest love in your hearts, but the strength of your conviction on this would rip metal apart.

“No.”  The word holds the might of your entire being, and it stands alone and defiant in the face of everything you fear, everything that threatens you, him, and this child.  Never.  You’ll die before that happens.  “I love you, and there’s nothing in this galaxy that would ever make me do that.  Not fear, not danger, not the Empire, nothing.  Not even you.”

Din stares at you.  His visor reflects your hardened expression back to you, the force in your soul and the purpose in your eyes, and you don’t even realize the gravity of what you just said because like your love for him, gravity is a constant.  It’s a fundamental truth cemented into the rules that govern your actions and it stays true no matter where you are, no matter what terror you face, or how scared you become.  You have him, you have this little boy in your arms, and if that’s all you have, then you have everything.

After an eternity of this, of feeling his eyes pierce deep into you from behind the helmet while you refuse to wither under his stare, you watch him slowly turn and look down, landing on the sleepy child tucked between you both.  He holds there for a long time, before finally whispering, so quiet that the modulator barely picks it up, “It was the wrong choice.”

You stay quiet.  It happened.  What’s done is done, you can’t change the past.  He can scold and reprimand you about this as much as he wants, but you did the right thing and that decision is the only reason he’s even here to be able to do so.  This exhausted child was reunited with his father because of your choices, and this exhausted father was reunited with his child.  You won’t argue anymore, but it’s a certitude that lives deep in your heart now, builds a home there right alongside the both of them.  Din eventually looks up, his eyes find yours again behind the visor, and his hand rises once more to gently cup your jaw.

“I… thought I’d enjoy seeing you in my armor,” Din finally whispers.  It’s not what you expected, but his voice sounds… weak.  Broken.  “You wore mine once before, and it was…”  He brushes his thumb along your cheek, and then his head shakes slightly, pushing the thought away.  “It wasn’t real.  It didn’t fit.  It dwarfed you, it made you look out of place, it made everything soft and innocent about you stand out.  I liked it because it wasn’t real.”

“Was it… really that bad?”  You whisper back, partially to ease the tension just slightly but quickly breaking eye contact with him when you realize it doesn’t land correctly, it just sounds self conscious and sad.  You try to find that conviction again, that strength and assurance that propped you up so sturdily before, but…  Not a Mandalorian, he’d said.  Of course not.  Of course not.

“It wasn’t the armor.”  Din gently tugs up on your face so that you look at him again.  “It was you covered in blood.  It was you purposefully putting yourself in danger.  You killed multiple armed soldiers of the Empire, you dragged their bodies off the ship.  And then you flew into an imperial base, where you killed the officers, too.  You…”  He shakes his head slowly at you while speaking, and although you can’t see his face, you don’t need to in order to hear the horror in his voice.   “You… collected a quarry… in the middle of a massacre, sweet girl.”

Not a Mandalorian.

“You don’t chase down bounties,” he tells you.  “You don’t fly into war zones.  You don’t kill imperials, you don’t collect quarries, you don’t sacrifice yourself, or our son, to save me.  You said you tried to be brave… like me.”  His fingers tighten against your cheek, he dips his helmet to make sure you understand.  “I’ll never ask you to be brave.  I’ll ask you to survive.”

“I’m… sorry,” you finally whisper, and his arm drops from your cheek to join the other in wrapping around you and holding tight.  They hug you and squeeze, encasing you and the baby in a beskar shield and staying there for a long time.  Long enough for you to tuck your head back into its proper place under his helmet, long enough to start to feel okay with the silence again.  It brutalized you the last time you were surrounded by it, it made you feel alone and desolate and barren inside.  You greet it warily now, settling into it for an unknown amount of time until it’s forgiven once more.

After a while, Din quietly breaks it.

“How many?”  He murmurs to you.  You already know exactly what he’s asking, there's no more clarification necessary on his behalf.

You slowly close your eyes and think back to the smoldering craters, the blood soaked ramp, the fear in Oshua Ryler’s eyes as he begged you not to kill him.

“That didn’t deserve it?”  You ask, clenching your eyes tighter at the memory.  “Four.”

And maybe, maybe six or eight months ago, you would’ve begged for some guidance on how to reconcile that.  Hell, maybe a few hours ago, you could’ve used his arms around you exactly like this, his low voice repeating the same things he’s already told you before, over and over again, if only for some semblance of stability when everything feels turbulent and uncertain.  You’ll never be able to change it, though.  This belongs to you now.

This time, all Din says is, “I’m sorry, too.”

And that covers everything.

The silence envelops you both again, but… there’s something else.  Something that still sits deep in your worries, an image that isn’t a scar of what’s happened but a dread of what’s to come.  You need to tell him.  You don’t feel like saying it, you don’t want to speak it aloud for fear of bringing it into existence, but you need to tell him.

“Din?”  You breathe out, and he makes a soft noise in his throat while cuddling you on the floor.  “I saw…,” you whisper, every word sitting tight and reluctant in your throat.  “Right when we made the jump, I was looking through the window and I-I saw…”

“A star destroyer.”  He says it like… like it’s the worst thing in the world and also completely expected at the same time.  He says it like he already knew, yet can’t even imagine.  You lean every bit of your weight against him since you can’t hold him in return, squish him as best you can against the small corner and curl up even tighter in his arms for comfort.

He takes a deep breath, a shuddery sound you don’t think you’ve ever heard him make before.  It holds untold anxiety, unsaid conflict, uncertain action, an unknown path forward.

“I don’t know what to do,” Din eventually whispers to himself, to you, to the baby in your arms.  His voice is barely a breath through the modulator, his fingers digging into your skin with how many emotions he’s repressing.  “What do I do?”

He sounds so distressed that you automatically feel your soul find the floor—instantly, you become steady and calm and you locate all that rationality that kept you going today.  All your worries still twist deep down, all the guilt and the turmoil wrestles with your soft, easy nature until you can only find bits and pieces of it in the most vulnerable places inside you, but if he’s struggling this terribly, then the least you can do is offer some good, true, unwavering faith in times of uncertainty.  You’re in hyperspace, everything worked out, and it’s going to stay that way for right now.  If he doesn’t know how to talk about it yet, then you trust him enough to wait for him.

“It’ll be okay,” you tell him with a newfound confidence and purpose, carefully easing the baby into one arm so that the other can find its way to the other side of his helmet and pull him closer.  Din tucks his head and allows you to brush your lips against the metal, whisper the words soft and steady to him.  “We’ll figure it out together.”

---

@cptnbvcks thank you so much for the incredible art!

[corroded-hellfire]

Time For Toys and Time For Cheer - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish story

Collaboration with the El to my Max, @munson-blurbs

Summary: When Brittany’s Christmas presents for the boys come in, it’s evident that “it’s the thought that counts” doesn’t apply.

Note: Jingle bells, Brittany smells, please enjoy this fic today!

Warnings: mild violence, Eddie being a perv, Brittany being Brittany

Words: 2.3k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me.”

Eddie lets the scissors drop down onto his mattress as you peer into the box he just opened. Seeing Brittany’s name on a box when you picked up the mail for your boyfriend was enough to irk you for the rest of the day—especially since Eddie wouldn’t open it until after the kids were in bed because it’s probably their Christmas gifts. The silver lining though, was that you saw Brittany is going by her maiden name again. You hope to God she changed it legally; she doesn’t deserve to be a Munson. 

The box did contain gifts for the boys but as you look inside you see what pissed your boyfriend off. You reach in and pick up a box of Legos that were made for a kid half Ryan’s age. The Blue’s Clues coloring book that Eddie takes out is just as insulting. Should she get credit for knowing Ryan likes Legos and Luke likes coloring books? Not in your opinion. Not when she lived with them for most of their lives. Not when she gave birth to them and should know how old they are and that these presents are not age appropriate. 

“Is this really a bunch of Lego kids on a bus? Oh look, they’re soccer players on a bus.” You scoff and roll your eyes as you set the gift back in the box it was shipped in. “Yeah, ‘cause Ryan loves sports so much.” Eddie’s eldest was in agreement with his father that sports are stupid. You think his mother would’ve known that. Then again, his mother is Brittany. 

“He’d put that together in less than five minutes,” Eddie says, nodding towards the Lego set. He sets the coloring books back inside as well and pulls out a small white paper that got stuck to the bottom of the box. “Looks like they’re from Wal-Mart. Nice of her to send a gift receipt. Almost as if she knew her presents were shit.” 

Any irritation you feel for Brittany doesn’t come close to the love you have for Luke and Ryan, and you’d do everything in your power to make sure they have a wonderful Christmas. 

“Think Wayne will watch them for a few hours after dinner one night?” you ask, eyes scanning over the gift receipt before meeting Eddie’s deep brown ones. 

“If we buy him a mug, he might watch them for the whole weekend.” Eddie puts the gift receipt back in the box and closes it. He looks over at you and an adoring grin grows on his face. “I fucking love you, babe.” He takes your face in his hands and presses a wet, smacking kiss to your forehead. 

Eddie falls a little bit deeper in love with you every time you do something for the boys without any hesitation. And since it’s a frequent occurrence, it’s safe to say that he’s head-over-heels for you. 

A few nights later, Eddie brings the car to a stop in front of his uncle’s trailer. He puts it in park and looks over his shoulder at his sons in the backseat. Ryan doesn’t seem bothered one bit that he’s being dropped off at his grandfather’s. Luke, on the other hand, looks like you and Eddie just told him he’ll never be able to eat another cookie again in his life. 

When Eddie’s eyes meet Luke’s blue ones, the little boy groans and drops his head back against his seat, curls smooshing around his head like a halo. 

“Why can’t we go with you?” he whines. 

“Luke,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “You hate clothes shopping for yourself. Let alone anyone else.”

“Yeah,” you say as you turn to face him as well. “And I can take forever in dressing rooms. I can never decide what I like better.”

“Plus,” Eddie adds with a smirk, knowing a foolproof way to get the boys out of the car, “you really wanna come with us and watch us kiss the whole night?” 

The moment Eddie leans in towards you, both boys groan and Ryan slaps his hand over his eyes. Checkmate. 

Luke is quick to scramble out of the car, his older brother right behind him. 

“Go!” Luke practically shouts. “Take your time! Make sure you get a nice dress.”

“Yeah,” Ryan adds. “Has to look nice for your work party.”

It’s hard for both you and Eddie to keep a lid on your laughter while the boys are all but pushing your car down the road to get you away from them. 

“Be good,” Eddie calls out the open window. 

“Yeah, yeah…” Luke mumbles as he trudges up the front steps of the trailer. Ryan follows behind him and gives you and Eddie a wave before they head inside the house. 

The moment they’re inside, Eddie turns to you and raises his eyebrows. 

“Can we buy you a new dress?” he asks. 

“Why?” you ask with a laugh. “You’ll want me to buy a sexy one, then not want me to wear it out anywhere and let people see me in it.”

“Ah, fuck,” he mumbles as he puts the car in drive. 

“Maybe after we return the baby-fied toys that are in the trunk and get the new ones, we can look at some lingerie, though?” you tease.

“Deal.”

The Wal-Mart parking lot is a madhouse; Eddie circles it three times before finally snagging a spot all the way at the back. He scoops the presents from the trunk and the two of you make a beeline for the return counter, with you holding onto his jacket sleeve to avoid losing him in the crowd. 

“Okay,” Eddie says, once you’ve secured the gift card that contains the store credit. He looks at you with sheer determination. “We gotta divide and conquer. You shop for Ryan, and I’ll shop for Luke.”

You make your way to the Lego aisle; Brittany had the right idea, but the wrong execution. After perusing the shelves for something more age-appropriate, your gaze lands on a kit to build a Statue of Liberty replica. 

Just as you grab it, you feel someone tugging on the other side. “Um, sorry, I’m taking this one,” you try to explain, willing your voice not to waver as it often does during confrontation. 

The man who’d reached for it as well scowls at you. “Yeah, I don’t think so.” He yanks it from your grasp triumphantly. There’s a nasty sneer on his face as he looks down his nose at you. He’s around Eddie’s height, bald as a cue ball, and has a beer belly that’s larger than most pregnant women’s bumps.

“Hey! What the hell’s your problem?” The words slip from your mouth before you can stop them. 

The man smirks menacingly. “What’re you even doing in this aisle? The Easy Bake Ovens are down that way.”

When he points to his left and lets his guard down, you seize the opportunity to pull the Lego set from him. 

“What d’you think you’re doing, bitch?” He reaches out a meaty hand to snatch it back, but he’s jerked back by his collar. 

“You calling my wife a ‘bitch’?” Eddie growls, eyes blazing with fury. You can’t remember the last time you saw him this angry. He shoves the man, now wide-eyed and fearful, into a display of Tonka trucks, which catches the attention of a security guard. 

He marches over to the men, waving his hands and shouting. “Hey, break it up!” The guard pulls Eddie away from the man. “You two,” he looks between Eddie and the guy, “get outta here!”

Eddie sputters. “Wha—no, he called my wife a bitch!” he tries to protest, but the guard just pushes him toward the exit. “This is bullshit!”

Despite the gravity of the situation, you can’t help but feel butterflies at the way he said, “my wife.” It has a much better ring to it than just, “my girlfriend” or even “my fiancée.”

Your awestruck demeanor vanishes as you stare at the back of Eddie’s head in disbelief while the security guard leads him away. You’re left hanging in limbo, unsure if you should follow him out or buy the toy—he is going through a lot of trouble for it, and you’d hate for his efforts to be for naught. 

As if he can read your mind, Eddie looks over his shoulder and gives you a wink. “You know what Luke likes, baby,” he calls out. 

You can only nod as you hold onto the Lego box for Ryan. 

“Meet you in the car,” Eddie says before turning back around, wincing when the guard shoves him out the door. 

It’s hard to shake off the fact that Eddie just got kicked out of the store and proceed to shop as though nothing has happened, but you know you need to find something for Luke. Something that isn’t made for a preschool demographic. 

“Okay, Legos for Ryan. Luke still likes coloring books. Just not Winnie the Pooh ones.” Brittany was at least on the right track with her gifts for the boys—just a good number of years behind.

The coloring books are a few aisles over and you chew on your bottom lip as you check out the collection. There are lots of Disney ones full of princesses and mice, but Luke only really enjoys the movies made by The Mouse, not any toys or games.

Scooby Doo catches your eye and as soon as you pick that one up, you see a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles book.

“Hmm…” you hum, but then chuckle to yourself. Of course he gets more than one.

You cradle those two books in your arm with the Lego set and also grab Pokémon and a monster truck one.

You’re welcome, Brittany, you think. You sent three but now he’s going to think you sent him four. None of this is for Brittany’s sake—both you and Eddie know that. The boys would be the ones disappointed, not their mother. There will come a day when they recognize her absence and carelessness, but you don’t want to help point it out; you just want to show them love and support.

On the way to the register, you do a double take when you see a mostly empty shelf of wrapping paper. Brittany didn’t bother to wrap the presents before she sent them, but that’s something else the kids don’t need to know. 

Making sure to get a paper that’s very different from any of the ones back at the apartment, you add a Frosty the Snowman roll to the pile in your arms. This way, they’ll differentiate these from the presents left by Santa. 

Most of the registers are crowded, which makes you huff, but you’ve had your share of fighting for the evening. Instead, you wait silently until the woman behind you in line starts speaking to you. “Last minute shopping for your kids, too?” she says with a laugh. 

You nod. “Yeah, it’s been quite the adventure,” you offer, not wanting to relay the near-WWE match that occurred in the toy section. 

“I’ll bet,” she chuckles, hoisting a toy Batmobile. “Boys or girls?”

The question catches you off-guard for a moment. “Boys. Two of them.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t imagine having two sons. I have one, and he’s a menace.”

You smile. “Yeah, but they’re my menaces.”

On Christmas morning you’re not entirely sure what’s up first: the sun or the boys. Eddie looks like a zombie as the two of you initially follow the boys out to the living room. Once they see the tree and the mountain of presents scattered about, their joy and excitement are almost as good as a cup of coffee in waking you and your boyfriend up. 

Heaps of wrapping paper pile up as they tear open their gifts: action figures and Hot Wheels for Luke, books and science kits for Ryan, and a handful of VHS tapes for them to share. 

Once the heap of presents begins to dwindle down to the last handful, Eddie stands up.

“Don’t wanna forget the gifts from Mom.”

The boys instinctively glance at you before they realize that their dad is referring to Brittany. 

Eddie hands them the carefully wrapped packages, assessing their expressions to gauge their excitement. 

“No way, this is the Lego set I wanted!” Ryan cheers, beaming at the toy. 

Luke is equally impressed with his gift. “Yes! New coloring books!” He stands up and does a little happy dance that looks very reminiscent of something you’d see one of The Peanuts characters doing. 

Eddie smiles, knowing all the bullshit of dealing with Brittany, in the past, present, or future, is worth it to keep his boys happy. 

“You guys wanna call Mom and thank her?” Eddie asks.

They nod, racing each other to the phone so they can get back to playing as soon as possible. There’s a part of you—a petty part—that hopes their phone call wakes Brittany up from a peaceful sleep. Just because you play nice for the kids doesn’t mean you can’t have small moments of joy at the thought of that woman being inconvenienced. 

“Your kids are crazy,” Eddie says to you, plopping back onto the couch and flinging his arm over your shoulder. “You should really rein them in.”

You give an exaggerated sigh and shake your head. “I’ve tried, but their father is even worse. Just enables the insanity.”

Eddie laughs, kissing your cheek before tilting your chin towards him so he can press his lips to yours. 

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

“Merry Christmas, Eddie.”

[katherines-imagines]

“Stupid bitches, be stupid bitches.”

pairings: hazel callahan x reader

warnings: angst, fighting, mean PJ, bad writing

summary: PJ starts yelling at Hazel, but her girlfriends not having it.

A meeting was called for the fight club after their revenge on Jef. As the girls started coming in, each had a mischievous yet proud smile adorning their faces. Y/N walked towards the back where her girlfriend, Hazel, was saving a seat for her. Sitting down, Y/N took Hazel’s hand into her own, playing with her silver rings. When everyone arrived, PJ began to speak.

“Alright, well, some of us clearly have a different definition of egging.” The girls gave each other knowing looks. “But if we keep our mouth shut, stay calm, we’ll be fine,” PJ finished.

“They’re gonna shut us down, aren’t they,” Sylvie asked sadly.

“What,” PJ laughed nervously. “No, we don’t know that. Why-”

“Principal Meyers will believe whatever Jeff and Tim say,” Brittany pointed out. “I don’t really see how we recover from this.” She was right, and all the girls knew it. As much as they could hope that the club would continue, after their little stunt, the club would be shut down.

“Man. Fuck,” Sylvie sad dejectedly.

“It’s been real guys,” Hazel said, looking bittersweetly to the group. Her girlfriend lovingly tracing her hands, nodding in agreement.

“Okay,” PJ interrupted. “Let’s not jump to conclusions with the, goodbyes,” she waved her arms around.

“I’m gonna miss you guys so much,” Hazel said, ignoring PJ. Y/N’s heart felt heavy from the break up for the group. These were her friends. This was her safe space. Now it would end, but she didn’t regret joining at all, and that made it all the more bittersweet.

“I’m like,” Sylvie started while standing up. “At least we went out with a bang,” Sylvie referred to the bomb Hazel made, causing the group to laugh sans PJ and Josie. “I mean, that was fucking insane!” The group laughed louder. “It’s just like, fire, everywhere” she continued, playfully hitting the girls.

“Wait, wh, stop,” PJ stuttered. “We don’t, wait, no, we don’t know that for sure,” PJ tried to deny, but the girls had already accepted it.

“PJ,” Annie stopped her with a sad smile. “Don’t be sad it’s over. Be happy it happened,” she smiled towards the fight club members, them smiling back.

“Alright, can everyone calm the fuck down please,” PJ said exasperatingly. “The club is not over, Josie? Right?” PJ motioned to her best friend, a hand motioning in her direction. Josie kept silent, PJ turning in disbelief at the lack of answer.

“No matter what,” Isabel started. “This club has brought me so much. I feel..” She took a deep breath before continuing. “So much more powerful, and, protected.”

“Me too,” Josie agreed, eyes showing vulnerability like the rest of the girls. PJ let out a sarcastic laugh

“Great,” PJ said. Hazel, tired of her attitude, interrupted her.

“Oh my god PJ, okay,” Hazel stood abruptly, her hand leaving Y/N’s grasp, causing her to jump at the sudden movement. “I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted out of this group, but I think the rest of us did.” She motioned towards the girls with a smile.

“Oh,” PJ spoke sarcastically. “Good for fucking you Hazel.” Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed, not liking how PJ was speaking to her girlfriend. “I’m glad that you finally wrote one email. Accomplished a lot.”

“I actually did, I practically ran this club for you and Josie,” Hazel said frustratedly. Y/N nodded harshly in support.

“Let’s calm down, maybe,” Josie said, trying to deescalate the situation, but it was too late for that.

“You really think that your the reason that we have this club,” PJ asked rudely.

“The reason? No, but I can tell everyone that if you want,” Hazel shot back. The girls heads snapped to Hazel at the comment, none of them expecting Hazel to have a mean bone in her body. Y/N stood up next to her girlfriend, hand going to the small of her back in support. As much as Y/N wanted to tear PJ a new one, she knew that Hazel had to do this part, at least, by herself.

“Hazel, uh hey, let’s calm down,” Josie said to Hazel. Y/N glared at Josie. Clearly PJ was the one who needed to calm down, not Hazel.

“You’re really ungrateful,” PJ snapped at her. “You’re so lucky that we even let you be a part of this.” How dare PJ try and glorify herself?

“PJ, your a liar.” A silence followed after Hazel’s retort, eyes turning to PJ for an explanation. PJ scoffed in disbelief.

“Yeah, well,” PJ started. Y/N had a feeling that the next few words that would come out of PJ’s mouth would make Y/N’s patience snap. “You have no friends, and a skank as a mom, so,” PJ smiled maliciously, as Josie looked at her feet. As the girls stared quietly, Y/N yelled at PJ.

“How dare you say that? She has friends, and you have no right so say something so atrocious to her,” Y/N said angrily, while Hazel stared in disbelief at PJ. Before Y/N could continue, Hazel looked at her friends in pain before picking up her stuff. Y/N followed Hazel’s lead, picking up her and her girlfriend’s stuff before following Hazel down the bleachers. Before leaving the gym, Y/N went to PJ’s face and spoke coldly, “If you every say shit like that again, I’ll fuck you up. Don’t you ever, disrespect her.” Shoving PJ with her shoulder, Y/N followed Hazel out the gym. While the rest of the girls watched them leave, Josie calling out for Hazel. When Y/N caught up to Hazel’s fast walking, she stayed quite. After a few minutes of walking quietly, Hazel spoke softly.

“What did you say, hun,” Y/N asked softly, not hearing what Hazel had said.

“Could you please hold my hand,” she shakily asked, quiet tears streaming down her face. Instead of answering, Y/N simply took Hazel’s hand in her own, comfortingly rubbing her thumb across her girlfriend’s hand. They walked in silence before Y/N spoke up.

“She’s a bitch.” Hazel let out a startled laugh of disbelief. “And not even a good one like me,” Y/N added, hesitantly looking at Hazel to see if it was ok to talk. Hazel laughed quietly, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. Y/N stopped the pair, Hazel looking curiously for the reason why. Y/N dropped their bags and took of her jacket, using the sleeve to wipe Hazel’s tears before putting it on Hazel. When Y/N picked up their bags, she took Hazel’s hand and continued to walk. “Don’t listen to her Haze. You know what they say about girls like her?” Y/N waiting until Hazel hummed in question.

“Stupid bitches, be stupid bitches.”

Hazel laughed loudly, hugging Y/N’s arm to stop her from falling.

“Y/N,” Hazel laughed.

“Hazel,” Y/N responded seriously. Well, semi-seriously. She couldn’t help the small smile growing on her mouth. Sighing gratefully, Hazel tugged on Y/N’s arm to stop.

“Thank you, love,” Hazel said, looking into Y/N’s eyes with love. Y/N swore she could feel her heart melt, warmth filling her up.

“Of course, pretty girl,” Y/N spoke softly, hugging her girlfriend tightly. Y/N was not going to let PJ get away with this.

No one spoke to her girl like that.

a/n: first imagine since I came back! if you have any requests from any fandom, please let me know. if I know the fandom, I will try and do it! Hope you guys like this one as much as I did.

[gr4veyardsblog]

can you please write hazel x cheerleader!reader where hazel has a massive crush on/obsession with reader and either doesn't speak to her at all out of fear or says the dumbest shit because she's so flustered but reader finds it cute?

Not so obvious.

Summary: Hazel has a big crush on reader but is too scared to even talk to her which makes reader begin to think she hates her

A/n : I’m sorry if this is bad but I haven’t written in like 5 years would love some tips in the comments or anything thank you just need to let my feelings out on my obsesión with Hazel- 😼

It was obvious Hazel didn’t like you. How could u not know with her always running off when you come even remotely close to her.

“Hey hazel” you practically yell at you spot her by her locker barely getting there and reaching for a book. But as quick as you see her, as quick as she disappears.

Another time you spot her having a conversation with pj and Josie but this time in class so thought there was no way she could go anywhere. Boy were you wrong.

“Hey guys” just as you were coming up you see hazel speed walk out the classroom door.

Your shoulders slump as you feel slightly off putted by the erupt exit.

———————————————

“Just talk to her” pj said with annoyance in her voice

“It’s not that simple rather just ignore it and act like it doesn’t exist” Hazel says shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head

“Dude it’s way better than you just leaving like she has some sort of virus or something

Hazel shakes her head and sees u walking towards them and quickly looks around for an exit route but thoughts are cut short by your body coming I to view

“Hey guys I was wondering what you guys were doing after school”

Hazel stops listening as she thinks to herself that this is finally her chance to talk to you. Just say hey how are you you look really pretty today. No she’ll think your a total loser today

Suddenly she blurts out as pj is explaining what the club is.

“I love woman “ all three stop and look at her. The tip of her ears turning a bright red eyes widen not believing she said that

“I-I think what she means if we all love and want to suppprt woman” pj said trying to save the conversation

“ so if ur into that stuff you should totally stop by and i don’t know if u want to , bring some of your friends with you like idk” she pretends to think “ maybe Isabel and Brittany for instance just throwing that out there”

Josie shakes her head and grabs pjs arm

“Uh yea I’ll see if they wanna come. I’ll see you all later “ you say walking off after they both said their byes except Hazel

Hazel comes out of her shock and shakes her head

“ what was that” pj said looking at Hazel

“I don’t know it just came out”

“Dude u need serious help if that’s how you flirt “

“ you don’t just blurt I love woman ur lucky I saved your ass”

————————————————————————

“ always be on time “

Pj turns around being cut off with the sound of the gym door opening and seeing you, Isabel and Brittany walk in

“You guys haven’t started right” you chirp out

“No your just in time we were about to start our lesson”

You all sit in a circle awaiting instructions on what is going to happen next.

“Ok we are gonna have two people in the middle fighting- training in self defense”

“First pair” pj looks around the circle smiling to herself and stops at you “y/n and uhh idk hazel”

Hazel freezes and looks at pj with wide eyes as you both stand up and go into the middle

You both begin to circle each other no one making a move to hit the other

“Cmon Hazel! HIT HER! “ hazel widens her eyes too scared to talk to you let alone touch you but goes for it and swings her hand with barely any force to hurt a fly, it slightly grazing your chin

It’s quickly over shadowed by you swinging your fist and it coming into contact with hazels nose

Hazel drops to the floor. Blood all over her nose as you rush down worried

“I’m so sorry Hazel here I’ll help you take care of it”

You help her up you wrapping her arm around your neck as you support her body weight under you as to not drop her.

————————————————————————

You grap a paper towel and run it under the faucet and bring to hazels nose as she sits on the counter of the girls bathroom

She slightly hisses but quickly stops as you lay your hand on her thigh

“I’m so sorry Hazel” you say “ you probably hate me more than what you already do I bet”

Hazes brows furrowed as she looked at you with confusion slapped on her face

“You think I hate you?”

“Well duh, you always leave when I come by or just flat out ignore me when I’m talking to you or to anyone around you. Just assumed the obvious”

Hazle just shook her head and grabbed the paper towel from your hand.

“Hate you? That’s far from it.” She takes a deep breathe this is the time to do it, it’s now or never “i just get so nervous and scared that I’m gonna say the dumbest thing around you. Then you’ll hate me and god how can I recovery from that” she goes on rambling but let’s out a big breathe and calms herself down.

“What I’m trying to say is, I like you more than like you “

You pause and turn a light shade of red not believing what your hearing

“If I could explain in words I would but I could not express how I jamble over my words because of how much I- “ she stops cut off by you grabbing the sides of her face and crashing your lips into hers.

She leans in eyes fluttered close as she lets out a sigh of relieve from the fact that she now knows that you actually like her back.

[roughdaysandart]

Rough Day Comic 0-1 "Other Talents"

💗PLEASE REBLOG TO SUPPORT!💗

SERIES MASTERLIST

Based on Rough Day by @no-droids

SERIES GEN WARNINGS: non-canon typical gore/blood, violence, light language, implied nudity, implied trauma (Blood, depression, anxiety, bullying, sexual), typos and general lore errors possible (plz lmk if you find any I enjoy accuracy)

See end for bonus content and credits.

LISTEN TO THE ACCOMPANYING MUSIC LINK(S) FOR A CINEMATIC EXPERIENCE! (LINKED AS YOU GO)

TRACK 1 (only) LINK: REPROGRAM

END CREDITS TRACK: A FRIEND -GUITAR COVER

Up Next: CH 0-2: "Rules and Habits"

"And yet, only when she was absolutely certain he wouldn't see ...shed let that nagging curiosity goet the better of her, make an exception...and-"

AUTHORS NOTE:

Well, this is the moment we've all been waiting for, sickos! I'm so proud of what Ive learned and been to accomplish these past few weeks (digital-art and writing in general), and have so much gratitude for all of the wonderful people who have followed along and encouraged me thus far. Most of all, thank you to the wonderful @no-droids for creating the fic in the first place. I cant wait to continue posting what's in store these next few (probably) years.

Thanks so much for reading! I hope you'll consider checking out my homepage for updates, sneek peeks, more depravity, the star wars mega-pinterest boards, and the unofficial soundtrack! 💗

Next chapter coming.....whenever its ready...in-person school is aboutta start and im going to pace myself and figure out how to balance going in person for the first time in a year...workin' and well...life, which includes this depravity and you all 💗!!!

Cheers, Sweet Girls. 💗

-M (@roughdaysandart)

CREATOR CREDITS

Credit to @saradika-graphics for the amazing dividers!

Credit to all of the talented artists making covers of the songs I link!

Credit to Brittany Broski for introducing me to RD/Ao3 this late in my life

Credit to...anyone else my mushy brain forgot (lmk ya'll)

credit to my drug-induced psychosis?

ERRORS/DISCREPENCIES/INNACURACIES (feel free to add)

on page 9, there is a spelling error (talens--> talents)

Sweet Girl was drawn on the cover before her design was finalized, and so her clothing as well as her body are not exactly the same as how she appears in the series.

On page 5, Din is supposed to be laying in the cockpit's main compartment listening to the closed door, not in the mini hall where the ladder resides.

On page 12, the rendering of the Crest's hull is a bit too wide (most dramatically apparent by the fresher door's length), the hull should be a tad more narrow. In addition, the flooring coloring is somewhat inaccurate, needing to appear more metallic instead of similar to the roofing textures and colorings

on the page beginning with "to say the least", the mini-halls' roof is suppposed to have a window. Therefore, the lighting of the space is somewhat innacurate.

[jedi-luca]

Avenger Lane Chapter 10: Bad Romance

Summary: You and your wife Quinn move your family outside of New York City to Avenger Lane; a small private suburbia. There you face your toughest obstacle of your marriage. Will your marriage with Quinn be strong enough when a certain redheaded beauty captures your attention? 

Parings: Quinn Fabray x Reader / eventual Natasha x Reader(slow burn)

Warnings: Reader has a Penis, mentions of drug use

Previous Chapter. Next chapter

You were sound asleep when the door busted open. You gasped, jolting awake still half asleep.

“Oh my gosh!” Quinn gasped, falling out of bed thankful you both had clothes on.

“Happy boythday papa!” Finley beamed holding a cup cake and Beth holding breakfast.

“Aw thanks sugar booger.” You say sleepily as your daughters climb up in bed.

“Mom, can you light it please?” Beth urged her mom handing her the lighter.

“Hmhm.” Quinn blinked awake taking the cup cake and setting it on Beth’s table. 

Finley climbed up on the bed with a huge smile on her face. “Papa, it’s your boythday! Yayyyyy!” She clapped.

“Hmhm.” You yawned, smiling.

Quinn smiled sleepily as she and the girls began singing happy birthday.

“And many more on channel 4, and scooby do on channel 2, and a big fat lady on channel 80, and all the rest on CBS!” Beth giggled, finishing along with a great attempt from her little sister.

“Aw thank you sweets.” You smiled, kissing all of your girls on the cheek. 

You lift the cinnamon waffle and give your daughters a piece as well as your wife before eating yours.

“Hmmm tasty!” Finley hummed.

“I’m still hungry… I think I need a little girl to eat!” You began tickling Finley and Beth’s laughter filling the house. 

Quinn recorded all of it on her phone and posted it on social media. Where your neighbor Natasha just watched. You looked so happy and so did the girls. The secret Tony gave her is eating her up inside.

Nat turned her head seeing you snuggling with your family as you all watched a movie.

‘Ugh how am I supposed to tell Y/N?’ she thought to herself.

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

So far your birthday was going great. You spoke to your parents for a while, leaving out the tidbit of Quinn getting pregnant. You were coming back from dinner after dropping off your daughters with their aunt when you opened the front door.

“SURPRISE!!!!” 

You jolted in place, placing a hand over your heart with a grin. “Aww guys!” They’re were streamers everywhere and a large banner that read ‘Happy Birthday’

“Surprise motha fucka!” Santana and Brittany jumped you.

“Oof!” You felt the air leave your lungs feeling Santana give you a hug.

“Happy birthday best friend.” Mike smiled, taking the next hug.

“Thanks man.” You grinned.

Soon the gleeks all hugged you at once finally allowing your new found friends to get in on the love.

First Tony, the Barton’s, Steve, Peggy, and Bucky of course. Thor lifts you up along with Val and Carol. The Stranges nodding towards you. You completely forgot about them. They’re the only ones your wife truly liked. Truthfully you found Steven Strange a bit of an ass thankfully his wife keeps him in check.

Wanda and Vis, May and Happy. The Quills, Scott and Hope, Shaun and Kate, Marc and Layla, but the best was for last.

“Happy birthday, Y/N.” Natasha smiled softly, hugging you close.

“Thanks Nat.” You squeezed her back.

Quinn loudly clapped her hands, startling you. “Alright drinks and karaoke time!”

You let go of Natasha and all of you made your way to the back.

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

“Hey I was wondering where you went off too.” Natasha smiled seeing you in the kitchen.”

“Just needed a breather.” You muttered vaping your weed pen.

“Sure it wasn’t because Rachel is singing with Quinn?” The redhead kinked her brow.

“…No.” You muttered drinking the rest of your drink. You were crossfaded and ready to get shit faced.

“Hmhm.” The redhead chuckled sitting on the counter where you were leaning.

You grinned looking down at her jean covered legs.

“I got you something.” She said softly, taking it out of her pocket.

“Whhhat? You shouldn’t have.” You chuckled, taking the small box in your hand. You unwrapped it, opened the box and took out a necklace with the initials of your daughters on it.

“If you look through the top you’ll see them.” She smiled watching your jaw drop. You could see a picture of you and your little girls from the time you were in Natasha’s pool.

“Nat this is… thank you. I love it.” You chuckled, hugging her tightly against you. “It’s a really thoughtful and sweet gift. I love it.” You hand her the necklace to place it on you. She leaned in, unclasping the hook before placing it on you and leaning back again. 

“You’re welcome.” She said softly, you were both close and you don’t know if it’s her scent or being crossfaded but you have an urge to take her like a caveman. God, you get so horny when you drink. Her arms are still loosely hanging around your neck. You’re so close between her legs she can feel your bulge growing she leans in lightly kissing your cheek. “Happy birthday.” 

“Thank you…Where is Bruce?” You ask softly, stepping closer feeling her legs nudge you closer.

Natasha shrugs, she doesn’t have the energy to lie, not when she’s buzzed and can smell your scent.

“He doesn’t deserve you Nat.” You say boldly caressing her cheek.

She’s just going to tell you. Tell you her marriage is a sham, tell you that Quinn is the one that doesn’t deserve you. The words are on the edge of her lips when you start leaning closer “Y/N-” She husks arching her back ever so lightly to lighten the ache between her legs.

“You deserve so much better.” 

“The same could be said for you.” She whispers her hands now cupping our cheeks. She can feel how hard you are and God she just wants you to take her right there on the counter with your bitchy wife right outside. She arches once more so she can rub herself against you ever so slightly. You both hold eye contact as your hands hook beneath her legs. You’re both so close to pouncing one another when the back door opens. You both feel like the bubble has been burst. You both clear your throats as she pats your chest gently pushing you back a bit so she can get down. You turn slightly to rearrange your package discreetly.

“Hey Y/N.” Rachel cleared her throat, eyeing Natasha. “Quinn is looking for you.”

“Right.” You sigh softly remembering who you are married to. You feel a little sick thinking of the way you almost just ruined it due to a buzz. You walk away without giving Natasha another look afraid Rachel will sniff out what just transpired.

“So Quinn is right, you do want Y/N. It’s funny how they’re onto us yet they haven’t done anything about it.” Rachel says softly looking around the kitchen.

“Truly do not know what you’re talking about. I’m sorry, who are you?” Natasha furrowed her brow.

“I’m Rachel Berry.” The small brunette looked almost offended; everyone who had watched a musical or walked down Broadway knew her. “I started the glee club. Went to school with Quinn and Y/N. Tony award winning actress?”

“Ahh I see.”

“You know…” Rachel walks closer standing next to the Russian redhead. For once she met someone who was her height. “Maybe we could work together?” The starlet shrugged.

Natasha’s eyes widened realizing what she was implying.

“I can admit they would be better off divorced. Don’t you think?” Rachel furrowed her brow. “They’re both obviously unhappy.”

“I think you may be a little crazy.” Natasha chuckled, starting to walk past Rachel.

“Call me crazy but I see the way you look at Y/N, and I saw the way Y/N looked at you. You were seconds away from christening this countertop. You almost had Y/N. Almost. Your demise was doing it here in the kitchen. You’d have to do it somewhere no one would barge in and catch you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Y/N and I are friends. I am married.”

“Hmm. Hmhm. If it helps I’ve never seen Y/N look at any woman like that before. Not even Quinn. If we work together we could have them ya know… it wouldn’t take much. Their marriage has been threatening to crumble for a year now.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, but if you’re implying breaking up a marriage it’s sickening.”  Natasha gripped the handle when Rachel stopped her.

“I know you want Y/N. I’m not afraid to tell you I want Quinn. I’ve wanted her since high school. Y/N treats Quinn great no doubt but Quinn? The same can’t be said for her and everyone knows it. Just think about it huh? This little convo stays between us.” With that Rachel slips out of the back door like a snake as Natasha stands there in shock.

Natasha steadied her breathing a lot just happened and she needs to go back outside and act like it didn’t. God she has so much to tell you now and no idea how to do it.

The door opens again this time revealing Wanda. 

“Hey, there you are! Come on Y/N is about to play us a song Quinn got them a new guitar… are you okay?” Wanda quickly notices that her best friend was absolutely not okay. 

“I have so much to tell you.” Natasha sighed.

“Do you wanna get out of here and talk about it at my place?”

“No, no, I want to watch Y/N play. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

“Okay.” Wanda hugs her best friend tightly, helping her relax a bit. “Come on, I'll make you a drink.”

They both make their way back to the party when you are getting ready to play. Tina is back on bass, Blaine is on the keyboard, and although you’re missing Finn on drums Carol takes up the mantle claiming to be a drum God.

“Hey dude you okay?” Mike asked as you took a bump of coke. “How’d you even get that?”

“Santana.” You mutter taking a shot.

“Hey I haven’t seen you this way since Finn died. What happened?” He asks, taking you aside making you put the joint down.

“I think I almost just fucked up my marriage.” You hissed.

“With who?” Mike’s eyes widened. This was not you whatsoever. You lived for your family, you would never be the type to cheat.

“Nat.” You whisper.

“Oh wow. What happened?”

“She gave me a gift and I… Mike I got bricked up and we almost… We almost kissed and if we had I would have-” You inhale deeply about to have a panic attack.

“Heyyy whoa… Breathe.” He said holding your shoulders. “In.” He inhaled with you. “Now out.” He exhaled, nodding. “That’s it. Listen bud you didn’t cheat. Did you almost… yeah probably but you didn’t. You’re high and buzzed. I know Brittany gave you a mushroom you microdosed with her, vaping from your pen, drinking, and I don’t even know how much coke you’ve been doing. The thing is you’re out of it right now. It meant nothing.”

“I don’t know Mike.” You shook your head. “I was so close to ruining everything.”

“Hey stop it. It’s your birthday. You got carried away. You both probably won’t even remember this tomorrow. Now take a deep breath and go play your heart out.”

“Mike… Do you think Quinn doesn’t deserve me?”

Mike’s eyes widened a bit in a state of shock.

“Do you think I made a mistake marrying her? My parents did… Finn did…Sersi and now Nat-”

“Hey come on you’re spiraling.”

“But-” 

“You’re spiraling.” Mike shook his head. 

“Hey there you are!” Quinn smiled.

“Come on, everyone wants to hear you play!”

Quinn ushers you on the patio platform in front of the mic.

“I just want to thank all of you for coming out tonight. Thank you to my wife for setting this all up. Thank you all for the gifts and the drinks-”

“The drugs!” Santana cackled Quinn glaring at her.

The neighbors all chuckled. “I’ll take some!” Tony laughed as Pepper smacked his arm. “Ow honey I’m kidding.”

“Anyway thanks for letting me jam out with my old band. This one goes out to Finn I really fucking miss you man.” 

“Here here!” Mike clapped with the rest of the gleeks.

You pour one out for your old best friend before downing another shot.

You turn around counting with your band. Carol nodded and began drumming the first few beats before you and Tina joined in shredding it up.

“All her signals are getting lost in the ether

(That's what she wanted) 

She's a landslide with a city beneath her

(That's what she wanted)

So take a good look so you'll never forget it

(That's what she wanted)

Take a deep breath, I know I'm gonna regret it

(That's what she wanted)

Holly's lookin' dry, lookin' for an easy target

Let her slit my throat, give her ammo if she'll use it

Caution on the road, lies, lies and hidden danger

Southern Ohio’s breeding mommy's little monster

She's got a mission, and I'm collateral damage

(That's what she wanted)

She's the flower that you place on my casket

(That's what she wanted)

Savor the moment 'cause the memory's fleeting

Take a photograph as the last train is leaving”

Quinn always hated this song; she just knew you were singing about her. How could you not? 

“Holly's lookin' dry, lookin' for an easy target

Let her slit my throat, give her ammo if she'll use it

Caution on the road, lies, lies and hidden danger

Southern Ohio’s breeding mommy's little monster

“Think she’s singing about Quinn?” Tony asked leaning up to speak to Natasha. The redhead nodded, not saying a word. Truthfully she’s still thinking about what almost happened.

“(Better run, run, run, run, run) Holly, let me out

(Better run, run, run, run, run) Holly, let me out

(Better run, run, run, run, run) Holly, let me out

(Better run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run) Holly, let me ouuuut!”

“Yeahh!” Tony cheered loudly, clapping his hands.

“Damn I didn’t know Y/N could jam like a rockstar!” Sam chuckled.

“Kind of sexy.” Bucky muttered.

“Really?” Steve huffed.

“Okay but they’re super gay right?” Kurt whispered to his husband eyeing Steve and Bucky. 

“You can see it from space.” Blaine nodded.

“Poor Peggy.” They cringed seeing her sit next to her husband.

“Alright I'm gonna need my wife, Kurt, Mercedes, and Santana to come up here.”

You turn around briefly whispering to your band mates before turning around and strumming your guitar.

“Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh Caught in a bad romance. Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh Caught in a bad romance”

“Ahhh this is my song bitch!” Santana laughed as the rest of the women and Kurt stand around the mic.

Everyone began to cheer before singing along. It was always a hit. Thankfully the gleeks remember whose part is whose.

“Rah, rah-ah-ah-ah Roma, roma-ma Gaga, ooh-la-la Want your bad romance!” Kurt sang.

“Rah, rah-ah-ah-ah Roma, roma-ma Gaga, ooh-la-la Want your bad romance” everyone sang next.

“I want your ugly, I want your disease I want your everything as long as it's free I want your love” Tina sang before moving so Mercedes could sing next.

“Love, love, love, I want your love (hey) I want your drama, the touch of your hand (hey) I want your leather-studded kiss in the sand I want your love

“Love, love, love, I want your love (love, love, love) (I want your love)”

Quinn stood next to you and began singing the part that always drove you crazy.

 “You know that I want you And you know that I need youI want it bad, your bad romance.” She bit your ear before you sang next looking right at Natasha.

“I want your love, and I want your revenge You and me could write a bad romance (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh) I want your love and all your lover's revenge You and me could write a bad romance Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh Caught in a bad romance”

Natasha gulped, were you sending her a message or was this just ironic? 

“Oh my god what happened in that house Y/N was totally singing to you!” Wanda hissed near her ear.

“Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh Caught in a bad romance”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow.” Nat muttered.

“Ugh, the suspense is killing me.” Wanda whined.

“Rah, rah-ah-ah-ah Roma, roma-ma Gaga, ooh-la-la Want your bad romance”

“I want your horror, I want your design 'Cause you're a criminal as long as you're mine I want your love” Mercedes sang. “Love, love, love, I want your love”

“I want your psycho, your vertigo shtick (hey) Want you in my rear window, baby, you're sick I want your love” Santana sang.

“Love, love, love, I want your love (love, love, love) (I want your love)”

“You know that I want you And you know that I need you ('cause I'm a free bitch, baby) I want it bad, your bad romance”

You desperately wanted to know what Natasha sounds like if she sang that part. You shake your head before singing your part.

“I want your love, and I want your revenge You and me could write a bad romance (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh) I want your love and all your lover's revenge You and me could write a bad romance Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh Caught in a bad romance”

Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh Caught in a bad romance Rah, rah-ah-ah-ah Roma, roma-ma Gaga, ooh-la-la Want your bad romance Rah, rah-ah-ah-ah Roma, roma-ma Gaga, ooh-la-la Want your bad romance

Walk, walk, fashion baby Work it, move that bitch crazy Walk, walk, fashion baby Work it, move that bitch crazy Walk, walk, fashion baby Work it, move that bitch crazy Walk, walk, passion baby Work it, I'm a free bitch, baby

“I want your love, and I want your revenge

I want your love, I don't wanna be friends 

J'veux ton amour, et je veux ta revanche

J'veux ton amour, I don't wanna be friends (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh) No, I don't wanna be friends (oh-oh-oh, caught in a bad romance) I don't wanna be friends (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh) Want your bad romance! (oh-oh-oh)” 

Damn Santana still has it.

“Caught in a bad romance Want your bad romance I want your love, and I want your revenge You and me could write a bad romance (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh) I want your love and all your lover's revenge You and me could write a bad romance Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh (Want your bad romance) Caught in a bad romance (Want your bad romance) Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh (Want your bad romance) Caught in a bad romance Rah, rah-ah-ah-ahRoma, roma-ma Gaga, ooh-la-la Want your bad romance”

Everyone cheered and clapped.

“How often do you think they play this song?” Pepper glared at her husband. “I’m just saying they all had a part.” Tony shrugged.

“How many times must I remind you. They were in glee club together in high school.” Pepper grit.

“Good times!” You chuckled as the gleeks hugged and walked off the makeshift stage. “This next one was Finn’s favorite song so it’s a must. Feel free to sing along and pour one out for my boy.”

“Bet.” Sam Wilson nodded, pouring some into the grass.

“Sam it got on my boots.” Bucky gruffed.

“It’s for a fellow fallen soldier Buck, show some respect.” Sam Wilson glared.

As soon as the band began playing the intro Steve stood jumping up and down. “This is one of my favorites too!”

“Oh my.” Bucky muttered, clearly judging his booyfriend.

“Doo doo doo, doo doo-doo doo

Doo doo doo, doo doo-doo doo

Doo doo doo, doo doo-doo doo

Doo doo doo”

“I'm packed and I'm holding

I'm smiling, she's living, she's golden

She lives for me, says she lives for me

Ovation, her own motivation

She comes round and she goes down on me

And I make you smile, like a drug for you

Do ever what you wanna do, coming over you

Keep on smiling, what we go through

One stop to the rhythm that divides you

And I speak to you like the chorus to the verse

Chop another line like a coda with a curse

Come on like a freak show takes the stage

We give them the games we play, she said-“

“I want something else to get me through this

Semi-charmed kinda life, baby, baby

I want something else, I'm not listening when you say good-bye

Doo doo doo, doo doo-doo doo

Doo doo doo, doo doo-doo doo

Doo doo doo, doo doo-doo doo

Doo doo doo

The sky was gold, it was rose

I was taking sips of it through my nose

And I wish I could get back there, someplace back there

Smiling in the pictures you would take

Doing crystal meth, will lift you up until you break

It won't stop, I won't come down

I keep stock with a tick-tock rhythm, a bump for the drop

And then I bumped up, I took the hit that I was given

Then I bumped again, then I bumped again

I said

How do I get back there to the place where I fell asleep inside you

How do I get myself back to the place where you said

I want something else to get me through this

Semi-charmed kinda life, baby, baby

I want something else, I'm not listening when you say good-bye

I believe in the sand beneath my toes

The beach gives a feeling, an earthy feeling

I believe in the faith that grows

And that four right chords can make me cry

When I'm with you I feel like I could die

And that would be alright, alright

And when the plane came in, she said she was crashing

The velvet it rips in the city, we tripped on the urge to feel alive

Now I'm struggling to survive

Those days you were wearing that velvet dress

You're the priestess, I must confess

Those little red panties they pass the test

Slides up around the belly, face down on the mattress

One

And you hold me, and we are broken

Still it's all that I wanna do, just a little now

Feel myself, heading off the ground

I'm scared, I'm not coming down

No, no

And I won't run for my life

She's got her jaws now locked down in a smile

But nothing is alright, alright

And I want something else to get me through this life

Baby, I want something else

Not listening when you say

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye

Doo doo doo, doo doo-doo doo

Doo doo doo, doo doo-doo doo

Doo doo doo, doo doo-doo doo

The sky was gold, it was rose 

I was taking sips of it through my nose 

And I wish I could get back there 

Someplace back there, in the place we used to start

Doo doo doo, doo doo-doo doo

Doo doo doo, doo doo-doo doo

I want something else

Steve clapped and whistled loudly. “Fuck yeah!” 

“He said a bad word.” Tony snorted.

You walked over to the Natasha with a grin.

“Sing a song for me?” You asked the redhead.

“Oh I don’t know-”

“Please? It’s my birthday. You can pick the song.”

Natasha sighed and nodded, taking your hand. You gave a lopsided grin and kissed the top of her hand.

You lead her up the patio. “What do you wanna sing?” 

“I think you know.” She kinks her brow and you know exactly what to play.

You take up your acoustic guitar and begin picking the strings before looking over at her.

“Boy, tell me, can you take my breath away?

Cruisin' down a heart-shaped highway

Got you swervin' lane-to-lane, don't hit the brakes

'Cause I'm feelin' so safe

I'll be your baby, on a Sunday

Oh, why don't we get out of town?

Call me your baby, on the same wave

Oh, no, no, there's no slowin' down!”

You grin at her, your eyes never having left hers and join her in the chorus.

“You and I, I

Ridin' Harleys in Hawaii-i-i

I'm on the back, I'm holdin' tight, I

Want you to take me for a ri-ide, ride

When I hula-hula, hula

So good, you'll take me to the jeweler-jeweler, jeweler

There's pink and purple in the sky-y-y

We're ridin' Harleys in Hawaii-i-i”

Quinn is bristling at this exchange especially when the redhead stands up and threads her fingers in your hair.

“Let me run my fingers through your salty hair

Go ahead, explore the island

Vibes so real that you can feel it in the air

I'm revvin' up your engine”

Natasha taps your chin and continues the song.

“I'll be your baby, on a Sunday

Oh, why don't we get out of town? (Why don't we get out of town?)

Call me your baby, catch the same wave

Oh, no, no, there's no slowin' down (let's go)”

“Quinn is going to kill Y/N.” Kurt muttered

“Okay but I’m loving this, their chemistry is through the roof!” Blaine smiled.

“You and I, I

Ridin' Harleys in Hawaii-i-i

I'm on the back, I'm holdin' tight, I

Want you to take me for a ri-ide, ride

When I hula-hula, hula

So good, you'll take me to the jeweler-jeweler, jeweler

There's pink and purple in the sky-y-y

We're ridin' Harleys in Hawaii-i-i

No, no

You and I (you and I, I)

Ridin' Harleys in Hawaii-i-i

I'm on the back, I'm holdin' tight, I

Want you to take me for a ri-ide, ride

When I hula-hula, hula

So good, you'll take me to the jeweler-jeweler, jeweler

There's pink and purple in the sky-y-y

We're ridin' Harleys in Hawaii-i-i

I'll be your baby, on a Sunday

Oh, whoa

We're ridin' Harleys in Hawaii-i

Call me your baby, catch the same wave

Oh, whoa

We're ridin' Harleys in Hawaii-i"

You quickly placed the guitar down and clapped whistling to cheer her on. You looked towards the crowd but didn’t see Quinn. Low and behold you couldn’t find Rachel either. You save that for later and focus on Natasha.

“That was beautiful Nat.” You chuckled and hugged her.

“Damn she’s sexy, Russian, and can sing?” Santana gawked with her wife Brittany.

“I know! No wonder Quinn is so jealous of her.” Brittany muttered.

“Where is that bitch anyway?” Santana squinted her eyes as she scanned the crowd.

“She went inside and so did Berry.” Brittany looked at her wife.

“Fuck Quinn.” Santana groaned.

Steve walked over to Bucky. “Buck.” He hissed. 

“What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost, or worse a naked woman.” He chuckled.

“Well.” Steve inhaled looking at you and Natasha.

“Oh shit you did.” Bucky chuckled. “Who?”

“Quinn and Rachel.” He whispered.

“What!?” Bucky exclaimed, making some people look over.

“Keep your voice down. It’s Y/N’s birthday.” He grit.

“I knew Quinn was no good.” Bucky muttered.

“Well we aren’t either. We are doing the exact same thing.”

“Hey take it easy, you said you were going to tell Peggy before she leaves again.”

Steve nodded watching Quinn and Rachel trickle out of the house.

“Do they know?” Bucky asked, looking away from them.

“No but they know someone knows. I broke a vase; I was in such shock.” He muttered.

“You’re going to have to tell Y/N.”

“Fuck.” Steve sighed he hated cursing but he knew this situation called for it. You and Quinn seemed so happy but then again he and Peggy did too. He knew he had to tell her and fast.

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

“Okay spill.” Wanda said, placing a steaming hot cup of coffee in front of Natasha.

“Ughhhhh Wands!” Natasha whined banging her head on the table.

“Stop! Start from the beginning.” Wanda placed a plate of pancakes down.

“Remember how we had a football match back in August?”

“Yeaaaah.” Wanda nodded. “I had major FOMO that day.”

“Well Tony dropped a bombshell on me. Apparently someone close to Y/N turned down their full ride to MIT.”

“Oh my gosh!!! Shut up no!” Wanda gasped, her hand going over her mouth.

“Yes!”

“My money's on Quinn. She probably got scared Y/N would leave her and Beth or something.”

“I think it’s her too but Tony said we can’t just assume we need to talk to Y/N, but-“

“Neither of you want to break their family apart.” Wanda nodded. “That’s understandable.”

“So now I have this bigger secret than my fake relationship with Bruce, and now on top of that I have another that I don’t even know what to do with!”

“Oh my gosh what?! You’re killing me!” Wanda whined.

“Y/N and I had a moment in the kitchen last night.” Natasha sighed.

“Nat.” Wanda sighed. “Y/N is married-”

“I know!”

“I told you that gift was too personal-”

“But-”

“But no Nat. Listen. I love you but this is wrong.”

“I know.” Nat sighed. “I think it was just the alcohol… the only reason I brought that up is because of Rachel Berry.”

“The short one that kept singing broadway songs?”

“Yes! Anyway she cornered me right after and suggested we break them up.”

“What the hell? Hasn’t she been their friend since highschool?!”

“Yes!”

“What did she say?”

“She said she knows I like Y/N and she likes Quinn and thinks they should divorce that they aren’t truly happy together.”

“What a weirdo.” Wanda gasped.

“She told me to think about it. Now I have to tell Y/N that their career was stolen from them, and their old friend is a snake.” Natasha sighed. “Wands what do I do?” 

“Honestly, I would like to know if it happened to me.”

“But how do I even begin to tell Y/N? This is going to break Y/N’s heart, and worse, what if they don’t believe me?”

“You’ll have to treat it like a band aid.” Wanda sighed, taking a sip of her coffee. 

“This could ruin their relationship.”

“Or it could strengthen it.” Wanda raised her brow.

It was quiet for a beat when Vis walked in.

“I think the real question is Nat do you have feelings for Y/N?”

“Vis what the hell?” Wanda grit.

“I’m sorry I was hungry and didn’t want to interrupt!” He said, grabbing a plate.

“What do my feelings have to do with what happened?” Natasha asked.

“Because if you have feelings and you are both married granted yours is a sham-”

“Vis!” Wanda smacked his arm.

“I just mean if you have feelings for a married person you need to distance yourself.”

“Oh don’t worry after I speak with Y/N I’m sure they’ll stop talking to me.” Natasha smiled sarcastically. She was stuck between a rock in a hard place. One she's falling for you, two she needs to tell you her marriage is a sham, three someone stole your chance at MIT. How does someone even begin to unload all of that information?

[marvelobsessed134]

Can you please write a threesome with brittany furlan and tommy lee or pamela anderson and tommy OR brandi brandt and nikki sixx sorry if it's alot

Plus one

A/n: ok guys…so I don’t know if this fic will be considered weird or not but this request intrigued me. (Pam is so mommy sorry not sorry) I might write some Pam x reader fics cause I love her sm.

Pairings: Pamela Anderson x Tommy Lee x Fem!reader

Warnings: age gap (Pam and Tommy are both in their 30s and reader is 23), dom!tommy, switch!pamela, sub!reader, MFF threesome, squirting, praise kink, light degradation (Tommy calls the girls sluts lol).

Summary: your new best friend Pamela has a proposition for you and it’s one you’ve never expected.

You were laughing about something Pamela said as you sat in the living room of her and Tommy’s gigantic house. The TV was ignored as the two of you were focused on getting tipsy.

Suddenly, Pam’s hand slid up your bare leg. Goosebumps arose. Of course you’ve developed a little crush on your best friend. Who wouldn’t? But you weren’t jealous of Tommy either cause you also have a crush on him. Bi things.

“Umm Pamela?” You asked a little nervously but felt that familiar tingling sensation in your core.

“Me and Tommy, well mainly me was wondering if you’d be interested in having a threesome with us?” The question shocked you.

Your cheeks were red as you thought of an answer. Your breath was picking up along with your heart rate. And you found yourself blurting, “Yes.”

The blonde smiled and called out to her husband, “Tommy!”

And that’s how you ended up sitting on their bed, just in your lingerie. You tried to hide your body and your blushing face. “Aw look Tommy, she’s nervous.” Pamela said, moving your hair out of your face. Tommy looked at the interaction with hungry eyes.

“Why are you nervous sweetheart?” Tommy asked, the nickname giving you butterflies.

“I- I um- never been with a girl before or done…this.”

“We’ll show you. Right Tommy?” Pam asked, biting her lip as she looked to her husband.

“Of course. You should show her how it’s done.”

The blonde woman giggled before sitting next to you and kissing you passionately. Your eyes widened in surprise but you kissed her back. The two of you moaned into each others mouths before removing each others lingerie.

Once your boobs were free she began to massage them, caress them, and suck and bite your nipples. You squirmed and squealed, throwing your head back in pleasure.

You nervously looked at her chest and she took your hands, pulling them towards her. “It’s ok, you can touch.” She moved your hands to rest on her breasts and you gave her the same treatment she gave you. Out the corner of your eye you could see that Tommy was already stripped down and sitting in the chair across from the bed jerking his large cock watching the two of you.

“Don’t forget about me.” Tommy said teasingly.

“Of course not. Come with me Y/n.” Pam said. You followed her and got down on your knees next to her.

She allowed you to get the first lick, so you ran your tongue up from the base to the slip and swirled it sprung his head.

“Aw, fuck.” The drummer moaned.

Then, you wrapped your lips around him and began sucking at a steady pace. You felt Pamela move closer to you and push your head down so you were choking on him.

“God damn girls…” the brunette moaned causing the blonde to giggle. As you were forcefully being choked by his cock, you felt her hands move down towards your pussy before slowly pushing two fingers inside your hole.

You moaned around Tommy’s cock as she began to pump in and out slowly before going faster.

“I think someone’s close..” she teased.

“Let her cum babe. She deserves it.” The drummer moaned.

And so, she continued to move faster while rubbing your clit before you squirted all over her hand. She squealed in surprise while you let out a scream.

“Did you see that Tommy? She fucking squirted!” She laughed excitedly, sucking your cum off of her fingers.

You continued to suck Tommy off until he came down your throat, “Fuck you’re so good sweet heart.”

The three of you decided to move to the bed after Pamela had her turn at sucking his dick. Tommy laid down while Pam straddled his waist and he pulled you over to sit on his face.

Soon enough, your best friend was riding her husband while you were getting eaten out by him.

Moans can be heard throughout the house if you were anywhere inside. Since you and Pamela were facing each other you both leaned in and started making out passionately. Groping each others tits and kissing each others necks.

“Mmm…Pammy…!” You whined with pouty lips as you felt yourself getting closer again as Tommy was licking your clit.

“What is it baby?”

“I’m close again.”

“Me too I’m so close Tommy you’re so good baby!” She cried out as she bounced on his dick faster before she clenched around him and came.

You also came, squirting again except this time all over Tommy’s face. “Fucking hell Pam, your friend tastes so fucking good.”

“Mmm she does doesn’t she?”

Then positions were changed once again. Pam laying down while you were face to face with her dripping core. Tommy behind you entering your tight hole.

You’re not really sure how to eat out a woman but you did what felt right. And clearly you were doing something right since she was moaning.

You licked inside her folds up to her clit as Tommy started to fuck you harder.

“Mmmm Tommy…” you moaned, tears springing in your eyes.

“Oh god such a good girl.” Your best friend praised.

The drummer smacked your ass before saying, “Fuck I’m so lucky having two sluts in my bed.” His derogatory words turned you on even more, and you felt yourself getting your third orgasm.

Pamela came all over your face with a cry and you clenched around Tommy cumming once again before the brunette finished on your back.

After the three of you got cleaned up-it was surprisingly not awkward-Tommy suggested you guys do it again sometime and Pamela happily agreed.

You guys ended up downstairs watching movies afterwards.

What a night.

[murdrdocs]

hellohello! i absolutely ADORE your writing and i would be honored if you would write something for me.

i'm thinking something like this;

the idea is that the whole group is watching a movie together, and reader and ethan are sitting across the room from each other, however, they're texting each other throughout the movie, each message riskier and riskier to the point where ethan has to excuse himself to the restroom. reader follows him and well the rest is history 🤷🏼‍♀️

plzplzplz do not feel pressured to fulfill this anytime soon and please take your time. drink some water and do something productive today !! mwah mwah 💋

tysm for the sweet compliments !! this is only suggestive 16+, no smut :)

there was a running joke in your friend group that something always went down during movie night. the first time, sam accidentally burned popcorn and the whole building had to evacuate. the second, mindy (somehow) spilled soda on the outlet with the TV plugged into it. the third, chad had an underlying, very contagious, stomach bug, and the entire group was out of commission for a solid week and a half.

tonight, there was nothing. the tara-sam-quinn apartment was fairly quiet, save for the boisterous laughter that erupted throughout the living room due to 'white chicks' playing on the (new) TV. the entire night was fairly quiet. there was nothing out of the ordinary happening.

not even your texts to ethan. mostly since those were especially ordinary.

it's not either of your faults that this relationship was going really well so far, even if the others aren't exactly aware of it.

which is why you sit on the loveseat with chad, and ethan sits on the couch with anika and mindy, both of you across the room from the other. you're alternating between looking down at your phone, watching the movie, and watching ethan's reactions to your texts.

the way his eyes would widen just a bit, and he would shift restlessly in his seat, was addicting to you. you couldn't help but continue to text him, letting your messages consistently get riskier and bolder, just so you could see his ears redden.

from the beginning of the movie, to terry crews singing 'a thousand miles', your texts to ethan got to the point where you had to lower your screen brightness and shield your phone from chad. which, not like he was paying attention. he had recently claimed that 'white chicks' was a national treasure that wasn't talked about nearly enough.

you hit send on another message, scrolling up to see how you went from saying 'hey' to ethan at 9:32, to telling him how you were wearing his favorite pair of underwear just a minute ago.

his phone vibrates twice, he picks it up without looking away from the screen, and then he glances down at the phone in his hand. you watch as he visibly gulps, and starts to type a response. you beat him to it.

'really craving your cock rn e :(( my fingers aren't cutting it anymore'

ethan jumps up so fast that mindy cranes her neck to look at him.

"dude, what the fuck?"

"sorry," ethan rushes out, his phone falling onto the sofa where he was previously sat. "just gotta ... take a massive piss."

mindy's turning back to the TV with a murmur of ethan's exclamation being "TMI", and you're watching ethan walk out of the living room and towards the bathroom, throwing a "sure" over his shoulder when chad asks if ethan can bring him another soda on the way back.

you manage to slip out less conspicuously, a prepared excuse on your lips that thankfully wasn't required. as soon as you're slipping into the bathroom behind ethan, he has his hands under your shirt and over your ass, pulling you into him with a rough kiss so that you can feel the bulge stiffened in his jeans.

unfortunately, chad doesn't get something to drink from ethan until the real brittany and tiffany reappear.

[jjsmaybank20]

please could i request a top!reader x bottom!santana.

It’s like she acts all big and bad in glee club and R always calms her down then someone talks bad about her, like Rachel with the stripper line about her and the usually calm and collected peace keeper R changes at a snap of a mf finger. You see Quinn and Britt’s eyes go wide asf and Santana goes to cuss out Rachel but R stops her, putting a hand on her chest and sitting her back down and does the sweetest smile toward Rachel.

Quinn and Britt be like: oh you messed tf up that’s her murder smile!

Santana gets confused and hurt like wtf why is her gf letting yentl bad mouth her but then sees the murder smile on her gf and sits back folding her arms and smiling evilly.

In the end R gets sent home and Santana drives her taking the rest of the day off too.

Once they get to R’s room santana is like ‘that was so hot’ and decides her knight in shining flannel armour deserves a reward for saving her from the big hairy beast called Rachel Berry and her tall lap dog and lets R do whatever she desires to her😏

My Defender

Santana Lopez x fem!reader

Summary: You protect your girlfriend form Rachel's hurtful comments, and in return you get to do whatever you want to her.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI fluff, oral (Santana receiving), fingering (Santana receiving)

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Hope you like it! My smut isn't spectacular.

navigation glee masterlist

---

A lot of people wondered how you and Santana had such a healthy relationship, but your close friends knew it was because you balanced each other out. She was the chaos, and you were the power that reigned it in. Every time Santana would want to go off on someone, you would be the voice of reason, the voice that talked her down. Now, as you were approaching Valentine’s Day, you and Santana were so wrapped up in each other that nothing could bother either of you. Nothing except for one Rachel Berry.

Mr. Shue begins to write something down on the board, announcing that week's lesson. “Alright guys, I have one word for you.” Brittany raises her hand enthusiastically, and Mr. Shue calls on her when he turns around. “Is it love?” She then turns to her boyfriend and quietly says, “Totally gonna graduate now.”

Mr. Shue and some of the Glee members look at her, confused, before shaking it off and getting back on track. “Valentine’s day is coming up. So, for this week's lesson, I want you guys to pick a partner, because you're going to sing to them what you think is the world's greatest love song. Yeah, find a song that communicates all the things that love means to you. Now, partner up.” You and Santana glance at each other, smiling and already knowing that the other person would be their partner. Finn raises his hand before asking, “Mr. Shue, can I say something?” Mr. Shue waves him up and Santana rolls her eyes at the boy.

“I just wanted to point out that for the first time, an entire week has gone by without any one of us getting slushied.” Everyone looks around for a second in surprise before beginning to clap. Almost everyone stops clapping as Finn continues on with his speech. “I think the fact that I led the football team to a conference championship might have something to do with it. The fact is that I’m the closest thing that this Glee club has to a celebrity right now, and just like a famous athlete, I want to give to a charity. You guys. So I’m setting up a kissing booth. For a dollar a smooch. And donating the proceeds to Glee club, to help us-”

Mercedes rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, interrupting him. “Don’t even act like you tryna help this glee club out, you just wanna kiss a bunch of girls.” Your girlfriend scoffs next to you before piping up, saying, “I’ve kissed Finn, and can I just say? Not worth a buck. I would, however, pay a hundred dollars to jiggle one of his man-boobs.” You sigh exasperatedly when she brings up the fact that she has kissed him, and she grabs your hand in comfort.

“Do you ever get tired of tearing other people down?” Santana pretends to think about it for a second before leaning back. “No, not really.” Finn shrugs his shoulders, sounding smug. “Cause you always just seem to be meddling in other people’s business.” Santana rolls her eyes, looking around the room.

“Oh please, you guys love me. I keep it real, and I’m hilarious.” You nod in agreement, and you see that Quinn and Brittany are nodding as well. “Actually, you're just a bitch,” Lauren states from where she is sitting next to Puck. Everyone ooos and Santana scoffs angrily. You begin to get angry as well, but you don’t show it as obviously on your face.

Rachel stands up from where she is seated, and that’s when you knew that shit was about to go down. “The truth is Santana, you can dish it out but you can’t take it. Okay, maybe you're right, maybe I am destined to play the title role in the Broadway musical version of Willow, but the only job your going to have is working on a pole.”

Everyone looks at the two of them in shock, but Quinn and Brittany watch you carefully. They see your eyes darken in anger and they watch as you clench your hands into fists. Santana doesn’t seem to notice, and she stands up to cuss Rachel out. “Okay, fine. You wanna be like that? ¿Voy a ser stripper? Bueno, todo lo que vas a ser es una vieja bruja de Broadway sin amor-” You grab her waist and pull her down before giving Rachel a sickly sweet smile.

Santana looks at you, confused and hurt that you were being so nice to the girl who said such an offensive thing about her, but then she sees Quinn and Brittany mouthing for her to take a closer look at you. She sees the smile on your face, and she instantly recognizes it as the one that people call your ‘murder smile’. It was the same smile you had on your face right before you broke Karofsky’s nose for throwing a slushie on Santana. The Latina leans back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest and grinning evilly.

You slowly stand up and turn around to face Rachel, who still has a smug and satisfied look on her face. You tilt your head to the side, still smiling at her, before bringing your fist back and punching her straight in the face. Her head flies back and you move to continue hitting her, but Mike and Sam restrain you before you can do any further damage.

Mr. Shue sends you to the principal’s office, and Principal Figgins decides that you need to be sent home and that you are suspended from school for a couple of days. You accept your punishment with no regrets, not at all angry to be getting in trouble for defending your girlfriend.

She decides to take the rest of the day off and drive you home, and you know that you are in for a treat when you see her lustful gaze on you the entire car ride to your house.

---

When you get into your room, you drop your things on the ground. When you turn around, you see your girlfriend stalking towards you before she wraps her arms around your neck. She places a kiss on your lips before saying quietly, “You punching Berry was hot. I think you deserve a reward for being my defender, so I’m going to let you do whatever you want to me.”

You grin in excitement before you push her down onto the bed, kissing her passionately. Your hands explore her body, and soft moans escape her mouth as your bodies fit together perfectly.

''You're so pretty, Santana Lopez.'' Your hand makes its way to clasp her face, staring into her eyes fondly before kissing her hard. Smiling into the kiss, Santana feels her cheeks warm up at the compliment.

''I'm going to fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.'' Santana pushed her body up against yours, but you press back, maintaining control and making her fall onto her back. Staring at you in a haze of lust, she watches as you climb on top of her.

Your hands cup her breasts over her top, and you help her strip into her underwear. You kiss down her body, watching her shiver beneath you. Biting her thighs softly as you make your way closer to her dripping center, your hand stroked over her damp underwear. Smirking, you look up at Santana. Your hands make their way to the top of her underwear and you pull them down her thighs.

You begin lightly sucking on her clit, watching her shake with pleasure. Your fingers were playing with her opening, as you moved your tongue in circular motions. Santana's back began to arche up as she moaned loudly into the room, her hands grasping onto your hair pushing your head further between her thighs.

''Fuck, it feels so good. Please don't stop.'' her breath turned into pants as she moaned, moving your head with her hands. Riding your tongue, your fingers getting deeper and deeper inside her with every movement.

You continue this motion until you feel Santana’s body begin twitching, getting ready to climax. You moved away from her, removing your fingers from inside her and watched as she whimpered. Her eyes teared up as she tried to move against you to gain some type of friction.

''Please, let me cum Y/N,'' Her body was still twitching, her clit pulsating. ''Please.'' Santana begged, whining at you. You begin playing with her nipples, twirling them between your fingers as she gasps at the touch.

You wait for a few moments, watching Santana pitifully beg to be touched by you before placing a singular finger inside of her. You move your face so that it is inches away from her clit as your girlfriend moans with pleasure above you.

''You told me that I could do anything to you. Now, I might be nice, and I might let you cum, or I might not.'' there was an evil glint in your eye as you spoke, and a big smirk was plastered on your face.

You move slowly inside of Santana, watching her whimper for more.

''Please, be nice,'' she gasped, biting her lips as your free hand continued to play with her nipples.

''Only because you asked so kindly.'' You pinch her clit between your fingers, pulling a scream from the beautiful girl above you. Her legs were shaking as you inserted another finger inside of her, curling them up and pressing on her G-spot. 

You bury your face in between Santana’s legs, licking her clit with your tongue as your fingers move quickly inside of her. Santana’s hands moved back to clasp your hair, riding your face once more. Moaning loudly as her body twitched, Her eyes rolled back and she shook violently.

''Fuck, I'm cumming-'' she moaned loudly into the room.

You continue to push your fingers inside of her, helping her ride out the aftershocks. When she pushes your head away due to overstimulation, you crawl back up her body and kiss her lazily. She moans at the taste of herself, and you roll off of her making her whine. 

“Relax, baby. I’m just getting a cloth so that I can clean you up.” She shakes her head and pulls you back down next to her, snuggling into you. You don’t fight against it, knowing this is what your girlfriend needs. “Seriously though, thank you for defending me against Berry. I could have done it myself, but still. It means a lot to me. I love you.” 

You hug her closer to your body, and you place a gentle kiss on her head. “I love you too, baby. I’ll always protect you, no matter what.” The two of you cuddle together until you feel yourself drifting off. You know that when you wake up, your beautiful girlfriend will still be there with you, and you can’t help but dream about how much you love her.

---

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[lesbianjobutupaki]

Art practice by trying some other artist's styles that I'm a huge fan of!

From Top Left to Bottom Right:

@ghostishere0 - the original reason I started this doodle, as I wanted to draw a "shepherd lovers squad" and their OC (who I don't know the name of F) was the perfect fit for it.

@luminesparkz - the best interpretation of Pom pikmin. If I were Mr. Nitendo, I would make them the official comic creator along with the manga comics.

@marblyso - If I was a little more unhinged and made a shrine to Erma Shepherd, it would be mostly marblyso's art of her, it's my absolute favorite Erma depiction <3

@rexscanonwife - another OC that I don't know the name of, but she makes such a cute pair with Shepherd and has such cute art that why not, let Shepherd have multiple canon wives at this point.

@citruscrisp - I think this is secretly Alph in an alternate universe where he makes comics about himself, because citrus has Alph's character SPOT ON, and also loves to put that boy in a situation (which I am happy for, I enjoy seeing that boy in a situation)

@daisythecomic - oooaaaaaaaaaa they look like little mice people they look so soft and sweet I love them so muuuuuuuuuccchhhhhhhhh

@louie-posting - I can't not include actual Louie Pikmin on this list.

@kiwilittle - the soft, the sweet, the one who makes the best family style art, really making me wish I was an inch tall so I could go to holidays with the olimar family, also their wife design is so cute that if Olimar didn't already get it I would shoot my shot for her m a a m

@pikbugz - really nails the soft aesthetic that makes pikmin such a calming series, and their coloring style is so soft and good that it gives me the ratatouille nostalgia flashback moment.

@splitster - more than just the wraith au guy, they are the one who makes incredible and funny comics; I've seen so many fics with the rescue corps where I can pick up that yes, this trait came from a splitster comic, and that's a GOOD thing. Made me actually LIKE Dingo, the nerve.

@diesaur - I can't do diesaur's incredible, unique art justice, they are amazing at using geometrics and have the best charlie (his little teefs...)

@solluxander - Cars, one of my favorite pikmin Ocs I've ever seen! Collin deserves a slightly unhinged sentient fluffball boyfriend, and I always love seeing the new ways Cars will interact with him.

@sillypikmin - all hail the best pikposter, who I'm still convinced is an actual leafling living on actual pnf-404, literally every time I have a bad day I look at drawings of Moss and feel better.

@eggpathy - thank goodness they came back to give us old man yaoi. I keep their drawing of olimar kissing the pikmin good night on my phone and look at it before I go to sleep and so far I have yet to have a single nightmare.

@the-knife-consumer - the only person I trust with Louittany, toxic yuri my beloved, I just adore their beasty brittany design so so much, I wish I could have a small brittany to live in my house...

anyway they have the best headcanons for our beloved blorbo hamster people

@natibranch - there's a voice line of Louie going "wa-ha!" in this really cute sing-song voice and every time I see any art by natibranch I hear that sound in my head as a little burst of serotonin, they just nail that exact feeling so so well.

@pikked-min - Another of my favorite Pikmin OCs, Yuva! A really interesting and unique character concept with a lot of thought put into the worldbuilding, followed by a strong unusual personality that had me looking at the pikmin world through a new perspective entirely. Please, someone, give them some sunglasses. Read the fic it's so good

@ssserf - artistic and deep while still somehow looking like official nintendo tm art, genuinely the best at the pikmin proportions, how could I resist trying my hand at the classic amazing beautiful Brittany Fruit Sweater moment, literally SO iconic

@kashi-pon - while I was working on the part of this that was just kashi's various highlife dresses there was a part of me that wanted to dedicate the rest of the space to paying homage to the joke comic of Louie lifting his skirt to show Olimar that he's wearing shorts, except this dress....well......

@diamondwerewolf - the reason we got louie in a little bunny outfit anyway, and thus why we got kashi's dress version. you single-handedly turned Louie into a tumblr sexyman, how could you

[730bliss]

detention (part 1) [hook x female reader]

you get a detention and your least favorite person decides to join you. female reader.

warnings: angst, bullying, gossip, middle school trauma, shootings, manipulation, nudes, swearing, suicide, intimidation, bad puns, revoked privilege

this is slightly based on personal experiences and my own schools stupid attendance policy ♡

For the third time this week, you left the house too late. For the second time this week, your car wouldn't start. And for the first time this week, you received a detention.

What a stupid policy.

You'd think school would be the one place where being late is forgiven. People would be kind and empathetic towards you and understand that there are millions of factors going into being in class before 8AM, most of which are out of your control. Right?

Wrong.

Well, surely you'd only have to make up the five minutes of class that'd you have missed? It's not a big deal.

Also, wrong.

Fifty minutes for every tardy after the two "freebies" as they had called it. So there you were, sitting in detention. Detention started at 3:35. If you were late, they sent you home, and you had to serve a second one. You made sure you were there by 3:33, at the latest. There were a few people already there. You sat a table by yourself. Two to a table, please. There came in a few more kids after you. It was a busy day for detention.

"Julia?" The teacher, Mr. Regal, called.

"Here," she said.

"Brittany?"

"Here,"

"Adam?"

"Here,"

"Max?"

"Here,"

"Tyler?"

"Here,"

"Y/N?"

"Here,"

That's when you stopped listening to roll-call.

The aforementioned Tyler sat next to you. Not because he wanted to, but because it was the last open seat available, and he walked in last. Tyler was basically the embodiment of everything a dad wanted his son to be. Young, handsome, athletic, seemingly well-mannered. But to you, he was everything but well-mannered. He was nothing except a cold-hearted devil.

Even though you've been going to the same school your entire life, it'd been hard to make friends. The closed off community you had been forced to surround yourself with was filled with nothing but elitists.

(a/n: see what i did there? imso funny hahaha please laugh)

Your first run-in with Tyler was in first grade. He sat at your table. He took scissors to your hair. When the teacher came over, it looked like you were the one who did it. He never said sorry and was mean to you for the rest of the year. You got your scissor privileges taken away. His friends joined in on teasing you sometime during second grade.

After fourth grade, they stopped being mean to you in your face and spread rumors instead. It earned you a visit to the principals office with police officers waiting for you. A list had been found by a "concerned student" and was brought to the schools attention. The student said he believed it to be you. Except, the handwriting looked nothing like yours. It was messy and gross. Kindergartener-like. You thanked Ms. Aubrey for bringing it up during your visit. You were let go.

Eventually, the teasing and school shooter rumors turned into notes in lockers. Notes with lines of daring you to kill yourself and condemning you to hell. You never reported them. You didn't bother. You had other things to worry about, anyway. Better things, like the spelling bee. You won the spelling bee in 6th grade. Tyler was the other finalist. It felt really, really good. You smiled at him when you won. He just squinted his eyes at you, trying to intimadate you. But nothing could intimidate a world-class champion, such as yourself.

He didn't start bothering you again until the end of 8th grade. He asked you for pictures. You told him no. He still told everybody you sent them to him anyway. You were deemed "too slutty" for anyone to want to be friends with you after that. That was the consensus all the way up until now. Junior year.

Now you were sitting across from the one person who had made your life a living hell for the past 10 years. You didn't even know why. You've never done anything to him. Did he resent you for something? Or was he just trying to entertain himself with the shy kid with a different sense of style? Maybe it was none of the above.

Thoughts like this crossed your mind as you pretended to read a book. You looked at the clock. It was only 3:45. You looked at Tyler. He was already looking at you. You gave him a weird look and went back to fake reading. He slid you a note.

"why u reading that?" it said.

You quietly opened your pencil pouch so as not to draw attention to the highly punishable note-passing. Mr. Regal enforced rules by the book, and you did not want to spend another day here wasting your time. You could hear a pen drop in that room. Any sort of noise would mean certain death.

"i found it in the library," you wrote back.

Tyler was writing some sort of response until a hand snatched the paper away. You looked up with a hint of fear in your eyes.

"Passing notes?" Mr. Regal exclaimed. "You two know better. Especially as juniors. That's another detention for you both!"

If looks could kill, Mr. Regal would be dead on the floor. You had incredibly important napping plans for tomorrow. Tyler probably had lacrosse practice or something sporty like that. You and Tyler looked at each other, but you quickly went back to pretend reading. It was only 3:50 at that point. Could time go by any slower?

You actually started to find yourself interested in the book you were reading, and you quickly got lost in its world. But that was cut short when Mr. Regal said everyone could go. It was 4:25 by then.

You were walking to your car when you heard a voice call behind you.

"Hey!" it said.

You looked behind you.

Here we go.

"What, Tyler?"

"I just wanted to say that's my favorite book you were reading," he said with a slight smirk.

You rolled your eyes.

"Whatever," you said.

You began to continue your walk to the back of the parking lot. You didn't like to park next to others.

He followed you to your car. You checked your phone and the time read 4:32.

"What?" you said, annoyed.

Your back was to your driver-side door. He put his hands on either side of you.

"I just think it's impressive someone like you could read such profound literature," he said sarcastically.

"Shut the fuck up, Tyler. It's literally your fault we have to go back to detention tomorrow," you said.

"You didn't have to answer back," he said.

"You didn't have to talk to me in the first place," you snapped back.

"I wanted to talk to you," he answered.

"I didn't," you said while crossing your arms.

"I think you're a liar," he whispered.

"I think you should eat a dick, bitch," you said aggressively.

The tension was ever-rising between the two of you. Years and years of hate between you both had finally come to its peak. All the while, he had you pinned beneath him, and you had nowhere to go. Your faces were only inches apart. His eyes locked into yours. After a few seconds, you looked away. You'd die if anyone saw you like that with Tyler of all people. Luckily, no one did. He didn't seem to really care. He sighed and walked away.

You got into your car and went home.

The time was 4:56 when you got to your room.

You took a nap, which you didn't wake up from until 6:45 the next morning.

School went by really fast that day. And when you got to the detention room, luckily it wasn't Mr. Regal. It was the principal, Mr. Khan. He was nice and understanding, but a lot of times, he let things fly under the radar. He seemed to only punish people for small things - like being late and note passing.

Unluckily, it was just you and Tyler that day. He sat across from you again.

this got too long so part 2 will b out soon ♡

[hollywoodfamerp]

Hollywood Fame is heading to the most magical place on earth!

Pack your bags for Walt Disney World, a place where dreams come true and a little pixie dust goes a long way! We will be staying at Disney's Animal Kingdom Lodge, which features exotic animals, dazzling pools, award-winning dining, and more. Who knows? You may even meet a new friend right outside your window! Under the cut, you will find the roommates list for the trip. The roommates were arranged by a RANDOM generator. Unless we got a message from you telling us you wanted to be with a specific person or your FC was listed on the ships list, you were included in the generator.  As we get more people into the roleplay, we will update the list. If you do not see your characters name on this list, please message us POLITELY and let us know! Mistakes happen, and the generator isn't perfect. Hopefully, everyone is accounted for - if not, we’ll fix it! As stated before, as we accept new apps before AND during the event, this list will be updated. This is also applicable if FCs are unfollowed/leave the group, so please understand that this list is subject to change. So, that being said - please LIKE THIS POST so you can not only keep track of this list but also so we know you saw this notice.

Akanishi Jin and Lee Sunmi

Ana de Armas and Louis Tomlinson

Andrew Garfield and Lily James

Anne Hathaway and Jade Thirlwall

Ariana DeBose and Ariana Grande

Awsten Knight and Miley Cyrus

Bella Hadid and Thomas Doherty

Billie Lourd and Dylan O'Brien

Cari Fletcher and Victoria de Angelis

Cha Eunwoo and Choi Soobin

Chloe Bailey and Gareth Southgate

Choi Minho and Kim Ahyoung (Yura)

Chris Evans and Naomi Scott

Colby Lopez (Seth Rollins) and Rebecca Quin (Becky Lynch)

Dakota Johnson and Sam Heughan

Danielle Campbell and Joe Burrow

Danny Amendola and Olivia Culpo

David Tennant and Harry Kane

Demi Bennett (Rhea Ripley) and Ashley Fliehr (Charlotte Flair)

Dove Cameron and Aaron Tveit

Dua Lipa and Joseph Quinn

Emilia Clarke and Park Seonghwa

Emily Blunt and John Krasinski

Emma D’Arcy and Hailee Steinfeld

Erin Moriarty and Fryea Allan

Ethan Torchio and Damiano David

Florence Pugh and Cillian Murphy

Georgia Tennant and Jason Sudeikis

Glen Powell and Meryl Streep

Hailey Baldwin and Luke Hemmings

Harry Styles and Ashton Irwin

Hwang Hyunjin and Bang Chan

Jackson Wang and Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul (Ten)

Jamie Campbell Bower and Tate McRae

Jenna Ortega and Halle Bailey

Jeon Jungkook and Choi San

Jessica Chastain and Claudia Jessie

Jonathan Bailey and Simone Ashley

Jordyn Woods and Bae Joohyun (Irene)

Josephine Skriver and Aaron Taylor-Johnson

Josh O'Connor and Troye Sivan

Joshua Hong (Hong Jisoo) and Olivia O'Brien

Jung Wooyoung and Brittany Baker (Britt Baker)

Jung Yoonoh (Jaehyun) and Lee Taeyong

Kang Seulgi and Byn Baekhyun

Kelsea Ballerini and Joe Keery

Kim Hongjoong and Diamanté Quiava Valentin Harper (Saweetie)

Kim Jisoo and Christian Yu

Kim Mingyu and Sana Minatozaki

Kim Taehyung and Chou Tzuyu

Kit Connor and Michael Evans Behling

Kylie Jenner and Billie Eilish

Lauren Jauregui and Bill Skarsgard

Lee Jeno and Na Jaemin

Lee Know (Minho) and Lee Felix

Lee Taemin and Kim Jongin

Leigh-Anne Pinnock and Emma Stone

Lucas Wong and Kim Jungwoo

Lupita Nyong'o and Tessa Thompson

Madelyn Cline and Anya Taylor-Joy

Maia Mitchell and Alycia Debnam-Carey

Maika Monroe and Sydney Sweeney

Mark Lee and Lee Donghyuck (Haechan)

Matt Smith and Jonathan Good (Jon Moxley)

Maxence Danet-Fauvel and Hunter Schafer

Mazz Murray and Jang Gyuri

Min Yoongi and Kim Namjoon

Nicholas Galitzine and Taylor Zakhar Perez

Nick Robinson and Jake Gyllenhaal

Nicola Coughlan and Liam Hemsworth

Olivia Cooke and Austin Butler

Olivia Rodrigo and Isabela Merced

Pamela Martinez (Bayley) and Mercedes Justine Varnado (Sasha

Banks)

Pedro Pascal and Kendall Jenner

Renee Paquette (Renee Young) and Niall Horan

Renee Rapp and Barbara Palvin

Robyn (Rihanna) Fenty and Drew Starkey

Romee Strijd and Elizabeth Lail

Ryan Gosling and Gigi Hadid

Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively

Sabrina Carpenter and Hannah Waddingham

Sam Claflin and Chris Pine

Samantha Gibb and Megan Jovon Ruth Pete (Megan Thee Stallion)

Saoirse Ronan and Jack Lowden

Sebastian Stan and Margot Robbie

Selena Gomez and Nick Jonas

Shawn Mendes and Jeon Wonwoo

Sophie Turner and Logan Lerman

Taylor York and Hayley Williams

Tom Hardy and Perrie Edwards

Tom Holland and Natalia Dyer

Travis Kelce and Taylor Swift

Troian Bellisario and Lucy Hale

Vanessa Hudgens and Zac Efron

Vanessa Merrell and Solana Rowe (SZA)

Veronica Merrell and Rylee Arnold

Walton Goggins and Ella Purnell

Wong Kunhang and Mason Mount

Xiao Dejun (Xiaojun) and Yoo Jimin (Karina)

Xu Minghao and Jennie Kim

Yoo Siah (Yooa) and Kim Minjeong (Winter)

Zendaya Coleman and Paul Mescal

Zoë Kravitz and Lili Reinhart

[owl127]

Can youuuu…mayyybe…please write something containing a 🗡️ character and a jockstrap. Ugh something about jockstraps, mouth guards, and feminine girls doing masculine things is so hot🥵

read on Ao3

Reading @lexa-griffins talk about wanheda’s dagger got me inspired, so… *throws confetti in the air*

Lexa’s boots kicked dirty on her way to the bus stop.

“Lexa!” The cries behind her continued, along with the annoying click of cleats against asphalt. “Lexa, wait!”

Ignoring the girl running after her, Lexa climbed onto the bus without looking back. The driver looked her pursuer and rolled her eyes, signaling for the dirty athlete to hop into the campus bus.

“Thanks, Carla!” Lexa heard, and of course she would be friends with the bus drivers, because apparently, Clarke Griffin is very friendly with people. Girls in particular.

Lexa looked straight ahead as Clarke Griffin, captain of the soccer team, president of the debate club, LGBTQ+ alliance vice-president, and a fucking player sat next to her. Clarke swore at the mud tracks following her and lowered her socks with a long sigh.

“Lexa—” Clarke tried, but Lexa mmf-ed and turned her back to the alpha. “Okay, this is getting ridiculous.”

“You’re the one tracking mud on school property.”

“Brittany is like, nothing, she’s—”

“Have you slept with her?” Lexa turned to look into Clarke’s eyes, searching for honesty, trust, anything that would make the last three months she dedicated to this woman worth it. She found honesty, yes, but regretted it immediately.

“Not recently!” Clarke defended. “She likes to cheer in every game, and she keeps saying we’re seeing each other, but Lex, I haven’t been with her since before I met you!”

Lexa squinted her eyes, watching a bead of sweat forming on Clarke’s forehead.

“Okay, maybe once after we met, but we weren’t exclusive back then!”

The logic part of Lexa’s brain argued that Clarke had a point, and even Lexa had been on a fruitless date after she met Clarke. Had she thought about Clarke all the time? Totally. Did it in the end it help her see she was actually into the charming athlete? Yes, but irrelevant at the moment, since now the unreasonable part of Lexa’s brain kept replaying Brittany’s voice: “And that’s Clarke, number 10. She’s the captain. She’s also delicious.” A pink tongue over lipstick gloss had accompanied that statement, and a graphic image of that girl on her knees for Clarke had made Lexa escape the match as soon as she could.

Clarke had seen the iteration from the sidelines and had abandoned the bench in obvious pursuit.

“Are we exclusive?” Clarke asked when Lexa refrained from commenting. “I… I thought we were.” The girl swallowed, setting her face in the same hard angles as when she kicked a penalty. “I want us to be,” she said, extending a hand between them.

Lexa signed and took the offered hand in hers, feeling how warm it was, despite the fall leaves rushing past the bus window. She loved how warm Clarke’s hands were, a dichotomy to her always freezing extremities. Lexa mumbled something, and Clarke leaned closer, asking, “what was that?”

“Maybe I overreacted,” Lexa confessed, the almost empty bus a witness to the fact. “I hated seeing that girl talking about your dick like she owned it.”

Red crept into Clarke’s cheeks, making its way to her ears. “Well… she doesn’t,” Clarke said, one hand around Lexa’s waist. “You do,” she whispered, and Lexa’s face flushed with heat. “I want to be exclusive. If there’s any girl out there bragging about my dick, I want it to be you.”

“How romantic.”

“You’re into it,” Clarke argued, her bright eyes following Lexa’s scarf until it hid inside her jacket.

Logic once more piped up in Lexa’s mind that the girl had a point. The thong she had worn to celebrate Clarke’s game dampened with proof.

“You didn’t bring your phone or anything?” Lexa asked. “You just ran after me?”

“Of course. I couldn’t let you go looking pissed like that! And Octavia will pick up my shit.”

“So it’s not the first time you abandon your team celebration to pursue a girl?”

Panic flashed in Clarke’s eyes and Lexa felt merciful. “I guess from now on you’ll only be doing this for me.”

“Yeah.” Clarke kissed Lexa’s cheeks, sighing in relief. “My apartment is not far from here,” she said, the kiss lingering. “And I’m in desperate need of a shower.”

“Oh.” Lexa’s heart picked up, her cold hands warming up in her fingerless gloves. “If it’s out of desperation, we need to stop.”

“You’re so kind.”

With Octavia and the rest of the team still back at the football complex, there was no reservation for stripping as soon as they stumbled into Clarke’s apartment. The spare key with her neighbor was worth it (the assistant professor had looked the couple up and down and threw the key in their direction before closing the door and turning her TV colossally loud). Clarke’s shirt and cleats didn’t make it to the hallway, and Lexa’s pants puddled by the bathroom’s door. Lexa pulled the athletic shorts down and met the hard resistance of a jockstrap cup.

“Isn’t it uncomfortable?” she asked, drumming her fingers on top of the hard carbon fiber.

“Right now it’s pretty uncomfortable.” Clarke chuckled and kissed Lexa’s neck hard enough to bruise. “But that’s your fault.”

Lexa focused on Clarke’s high ponytail next, letting the blonde tresses free under the white light. “Yeah,” Lexa said, “it is.”

“Feeling possessive, huh?” Clarke nipped at the soft skin under Lexa’s chin while stepping out of her shorts, completely nude. Clarke moaned at the hands exploring her broad shoulders, digging into her trapezius, and scratching her deltoids. Lexa admired Clarke’s curves, but she salivated at her muscles.

A moan froze in a gasp as Lexa felt for Clarke’s erection, now free from the confines of jock straps and tight, athletic shorts. “Very possessive,” Lexa said, moving her hand in deliberate slowness, pushing eager hips back when Clarke tried to increase the pace. “You can be the leader of your team, but here” — a strong squeeze that made Clarke whine — “I��m captain.” The exhale on Lexa’s shoulder was nothing but a moan.

“Fuck,” Clarke said, her head surrendering to Lexa’s biceps as she mercifully started moving her hand.

Clarke smelled like sweat, and heat, and vetiver, and Lexa had it all for herself. She inhaled deeply, her brain creating a new pathway for that scent of love, need, and lust. Lexa prided herself on being an omega in full authority of her body and desires, but as Clarke groaned on her neck, Lexa surrendered to the primal need of control.

“Come for me, babe,” she said, softly albeit with a command, and poor Clarke followed like a trained puppy.

Lexa held her close as Clarke trembled, expending the last of her strength over Lexa’s olive skin. When Clarke’s knee threatened to buckle, Lexa guided the exhausted girl under the hot shower stream.

“I’m sorry.” Clarke mumbled as water covered her mouth. Lexa distracted herself with shampooing Clarke’s hair, and the fresh scent of mint and vetiver filled the fogging air.

“About what?”

Clarke turned to look Lexa in the eyes, all half-lidded and yawning. “I’m sorry for not being clear about being exclusive before. I was afraid.”

Lexa nuzzled the shampoo suds away from Clarke’s cheek. “Afraid?” she asked.

Clarke hugged her under the water, their wet bodies molding together. The water soothed Lexa’s skin, but Clarke remained her major source of warmth. “I was afraid you’d say no.”

“How could I not?” Lexa kissed her girlfriend — seemed safe to call her that way — until they were out of breath. “I hate sports, and you got me outside in a chilly morning just to watch you kicking some balls.”

“It’s one ball.”

“Whatever. Come here.”

Clarke obeyed, her hand sliding down beautiful curves to elicit a moan from Lexa. She responded in kind, hardening between them.

Octavia was pissed when she arrived home from their game and there was no hot water.