#can't have nice things out west

[nightwingandhissquad]

ah the good old cancelled by “technically” not renewing us 

[unclewaynemunson]

Pt2 to this post

'Is something wrong?' Nancy asks, not long after the two of them have taken their familiar spots on the hood of Steve's car. They're basking in what might be the last warm sunlight of the year, looking out over the quarry, at a safe distance from the edge.

It's become a tradition the two of them share, ever since they reconnected back in March. It calms them both, to just sit here and take in the view, no one around but each other. Nancy is one of the few people Steve can share a comfortable silence with: sometimes they sit here quietly for what feels like hours, side by side, listening to music or to nothing but the birds singing around them. But they also have their best conversations here: it's the place where Nancy entrusted him she wanted to break up with Jonathan; it's the place where they talked about their shared past and decided they would always love each other as friends; it's the place where they finally talked about Barbara in a way they couldn't when they were younger. It's where Nancy talked about the ghosts still haunting her and Steve talked about how lonely he sometimes felt.

Steve huffs. 'How did you guess?'

'When you frown, you always do it with your whole face,' Nancy notes. 'So it's hard to miss, really.'

Steve glances at her side profile. There's a serenity to her features that's still relatively new. It means she's healing, slowly learning how to be happy again. It means she stopped waiting for the end of the world and started believing in a real future again. It makes Steve proud of how far they both have come.

'I had a fight with Eddie,' he confesses. 'And with Dustin, I guess.'

'What happened?'

He sighs. 'It's complicated.'

'Wanna tell me about it?'

The look in her eyes is kind and inviting. Steve hesitates. He wants to, but he doesn't know if he can. It's a risk. It's scary.

But he can't imagine Nancy Wheeler ever being careless with his secrets. He can't imagine her judging him, can't imagine her being as small-minded as most people in this town.

He was planning on telling her anyway, because things had been going so well with Eddie lately and – no, he shouldn't think about that right now. But maybe it would actually be nice to talk about it with Nancy.

'So, um...' His throat feels tight and his hands are sweaty. 'I recently discovered some things about myself. I-' The words get stuck somewhere on the way to his mouth, and he clears his throat.

Nancy doesn't push, but only gives him an encouraging nod, waiting for him to find his voice again.

'I found out I like boys,' he finally manages to confess. 'And I need you to know that – that that doesn't mean that what I felt for you wasn't real. It was. I loved you, and now I fell in love with a boy. And-'

'Steve.' Nancy's hand suddenly covers his, causing him to finally jerk his head away from the view over the quarry, to focus on her face again instead.

Her eyes are wide, and she squeezes his hand.

'You don't have to explain yourself to me,' she tells him. 'We're good. But thank you for telling me. For trusting me with this.'

Steve heaves out a relieved sigh, and Nancy smiles; it's that genuine kind of smile which reveals all kinds of dimples and soft lines across her face.

'We might be more similar than you thought,' she tells him, a faint blush spreading over her cheeks.

'Really?' Her words make his breath catch in his throat. He squints at her, trying to see her in this new light. 'Are you saying what I think you're saying?'

She shrugs. 'I don't know. I'm not sure yet,' she admits. 'Still figuring things out.'

'Take your time, there's no rush,' he tells her. 'But...' He bumps his shoulder against hers. 'When you're done figuring it out, talk to me, okay?'

She nods. 'Okay.'

For a while, it's quiet between the two of them. Some kind of raptor circles high above them in the sky. They both follow it with their eyes until it disappears among the tree tops west of the quarry.

'Is it Eddie?'

Steve blinks dumbly a couple of times.

'Wha- what?'

'The guy you were talking about. The one you fell in love with. It's Eddie, isn't it?'

'Jesus, Wheeler, what kind of sorceress are you?' Steve exclaims.

Nancy laughs again. 'You're not being as subtle as you think,' she tells him. 'The two of you have been hooking up for a while now, haven't you?'

Steve huffs dramatically. 'This is unfair. You know everything; I can't even tell you my own secrets anymore!'

'So what happened?' Nancy asks. 'You said you had a fight with him?'

'It's fucking stupid,' he sighs. 'Dustin was getting way too excited about the fact that I was gonna be hanging out with you, so I told him I was seeing someone. Next thing I knew, he was telling Eddie all about how I was seeing a girl.' He waves his hands around to make annoyed air quotations. 'I wanted to tell Eddie it was a misunderstanding, but Dustin was there, so I couldn't out us just like that, and he looked so betrayed and heartbroken... He didn't wanna listen to me.'

Steve sighs; he still can't manage to forget that look in Eddie's eyes when Dustin delivered the big news. 'I wish I would've talked about what I felt for him earlier. I should've been honest when I had the chance, y'know. But I was afraid he wouldn't wanna label what we had, that he wouldn't feel the same way – and now we're in this whole mess. God, he must hate me right now, Nance.'

To his surprise, Nancy gives him an unexpected slap against his arm.

'Ouch, what the hell was that for?!'

'What are you even doing here with me, Steve? You should've gone after him, tell him how you feel!'

'I tried, obviously, but he didn't wanna listen to me!'

'So make him listen! You're in love with him, he obviously feels the same way about you, and you let him leave to wallow in a broken heart he doesn't even need to have!' She rolls her eyes and slides off the car, adding something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like an exasperated 'Boys!' before she pulls Steve off the car as well. 'C'mon, time to get your ass over to the trailer park. Right. Now,' she says through gritted teeth. And, well, Steve knows better than to argue with a determined - and truthfully quite terrifying - Nancy Wheeler.

Read the last part here Taglist: @withacapitalp @ultimatedreamer104 @irregular-child @jcmadgirl @estrellami-1 @myguiltyartpleasure @hallucinatedjosten @jaybren @thew1ldblueyonder @melodymeddler @alycatavatar @zoeweee @lolawonsstuff @fairy-princette @saramelaniemoon @phirex22 @krazyperson @xxsky-shockxx (I only put people on this list who explicitly asked to be tagged. That's really no problem, I love to do that so dw about asking, but I got a lot of relatively vague reactions to the previous post that i'm not gonna dissect and interpret, bc I don't wanna clog anyone's notes unwanted. So just to be clear: i consider it a huge compliment if anyone asks for a tag but please do it clearly if you do!)

[astonmartinii]

loving on a sunday | lando norris social media au

pairing: lando norris x reader

y/n and lando, the grid and an honest attempt at a sunday roast

masterlist if you want to leave a tip x

yourusername

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 601,239 others

yourusername: warning !! do not own a nice country house and farm because you will get lumped with the annual post season grid dinner, SEB PLEASE COME BACK I CAN"T TAKE THIS RESPONSIBILITY @landonorris what are you going to do when they find out you can't cook?

view all comments

user1: learning that lando can't cook is the least surprising thing in the entire world

user2: i'm sorry post season grid dinner? brb just going to cry my eyes out why haven't we heard of this before

user3: for my mental health i need photographic evidence asap

landonorris: way to bait me out in front of the whole world, thanks babe

yourusername: i'm sorry but if this crashes and burns i need people to know that it was your fault (because it defo would be)

landonorris: where is the faith? you back me to win every race but won't back me to make some roast potatoes :(

yourusername: babe when i was sick you burnt the soup so bad we had to throw the pan out

landonorris: I TRIED I WAS STRESSED YOU WERE SICK

yourusername: awwww babe, but it was le crueset and literally cost more than my life

sebastianvettel: it's been an honour to host it but i know you and lando will do great, send me all the photos !

yourusername: thank you seb, please come visit the farm at some point xx

landonorris: see i knew seb would have faith in me thanks mate

user4: lando's gf being a farm girl makes so much sense but also no sense what so ever

yourusername: tis the south west babe it's either banksy or farmers and nothing in between

landonorris

liked by maxfewtrell, yourusername and 1,023,677 others

tagged: yourusername

landonorris: should be peeling potatoes right now she's too pretty

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user10: oh to be a kitty cat being cuddled by y/n

yourusername: you're such a smooth talker babe but those potatoes won't peel themselves

landonorris: my years of being teammates with carlos has come in clutch

yourusername: you still suck at flirting i just love you so i still swoon, any other person would probably laugh in your face

landonorris: gonna ignore the insult and focus on the fact that you love me

user11: i swear every time i see y/n she's with another animal i've never seen before

yourusername: my farm is a safe haven for any animal, if they find themselves there they'll leave with a full tummy and a good load of cuddles

maxverstappen1: if lando is on potato duty does this mean we won't get them? they're my favourite part of a roast y/n PLEASE STEP IN

landonorris: oh wow i see how it is

maxverstappen1: i'm dutch i'm so serious about my potatoes

landonorris: i also don't fuck around about roast potatoes HAVE FAITH

user12: can we start a petition for lando to stream this? like at least the cooking portion

yourusername: watching my nervous breakdown live would not be ethical

landonorris: it's true she threw a carrot at my head the first time she cooked for my family

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, estebanocon and 590,455 others

tagged: yourusername, landonorris

oscarpiastri: officially a farm boy for the week (also known as third wheeling for seven days)

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user15: omg oscar went early? my mclaren heart is so full

yourusername: so so happy to have you here osc!! though you're not any more trustworthy in the kitchen

oscarpiastri: i'd defend myself but we've all seen me fail to boil an egg

yourusername: you tried your best !! but you've mastered the english tea which is a massive asset

oscarpiastri: i think i'd lose my seat if i couldn't make a cup of tea

user16: obsessed with y/n dragging everyone for being menaces in the kitchen

user17: love how oscar was like: post lando? no. post ducks? yes.

landonorris: mate you asked to come early don't complain about third wheeling now

oscarpiastri: i know i asked to come early but if y'all could lay off the soft porn for two seconds would be appreciated

landonorris: don't pretend you don't enjoy it mate ;)

yourusername: lando don't be mean :(

landonorris: i'm sorry oscar, i'm sure you don't enjoy watching us be happy

oscarpiastri: thanks i guess?

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 1,034,560 others

charles_leclerc: sad to announce i've been banned from the kitchen:( even banned from making drinks as well

view all comments

user18: this is defo the banning i agree with, we all saw the vlog with the pesto pasta

user19: tbf i've come to the conclusion the one person y/n would let into the kitchen is seb

yourusername: you're not wrong

user20: i need a chick in my dungarees right now

yourusername: why are you complaining about a free pass to sit on the couch and have someone else cook for you?

charles_leclerc: well when you put it like that ....

landonorris: let me revoke all of my previous complaints

yourusername: you know i like to treat you baby

charles_leclerc: why thank you y/n but that's an inappropriate thing to say while in a relationship

yourusername: it was in reply to lando's comment charles 😭

landonorris: guy forgot he could read for a second

charles_leclerc: MY BAD

user21: i know charles didn't come to a farm in all white

yourusername: i regret to inform you he did (it's all designer as well)

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 702,340 others

tagged: landonorris

yourusername: sunday roasts are my love language, so happy to host the grid dinner with the love of my life

view all comments

user23: at first i thought she was being a bit too serious about this but that roast looks like it BANGS

user24: legit i need one asap

georgerussell63: carmen wants the recipe please and thank you

yourusername: bring her to the farm next time we're free and i'll teach her in person

carmenmundt: thank you darling

yourusername: anything for you

landonorris: ummm what about the guy you called the love of your life in the caption?

yourusername: i love you but i've tried to teach you to cook way too many times

user25: i'm sorry lando is so sexy

user26: forget lando, every pic i've seen of this house is the sexiest thing in the world

carlossainz55: thank you for hosting y/n and lando!! i had a great time see you on new years

yourusername: no worries chilli

maxverstappen1: the roast was the best thing i've ever eaten, i'll only dock points because i had to top and tail with daniel

yourusername: i didn't see you complain when i walked in on you guys cuddling

danielricciardo: you told me you loved it :(

maxverstappen1: i did !!! i enjoyed all of it, especially the roast though

landonorris: second to a roast @danielricciardo that's tough

landonorris

liked by alexalbon, yourusername and 1,208,943 others

tagged: yourusername

landonorris: so honoured to host the grid dinner and take over from such an inspiration in seb!! but mostly thanks to y/n for hosting at her farm and putting together an amazing dinner and weekend - also thanks for not killing the grid, i defo would have

view all comments

user27: i would've given a kidney to be there for real

lewishamilton: thank you for having us and for the sick nut roast

yourusername: we love you and roscoe !! and vegans are always welcome on my farm

user28: ROSCOE WENT?

yukitsunoda0511: thank you y/n i no longer think that english food is an abomination

yourusername: wow thank you yuki, i knew it would be hard when your only exposure was ... milton keynes

landonorris: wow my girlfriend is a miracle worker, and you're welcome yuki san we loved having you

user29: watching lando go from rookie to hosting the grid dinner, i'm soft

oscarpiastri: i love it here i'm sorry you're not getting rid of me

yourusername: no worries osc, you can stay as long as you want

landonorris: no complaining about third wheeling though, you're basically our child now

user30: experienced racer and rookie teammate friendships are so special to ME

danielricciardo: glad i managed to get my seat back just for this roast tbf

landonorris: not cause you missed me?

danielricciardo: eh i guess so

yourusername: just let me know when you're in england and you can come over for another

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Cân i Gymru 2024

It has just occurred to me that I can actually recreate Cân i Gymru for you all through the power of the Internet and Tumblr and such like. Given that Eurovision is out this year, please enjoy the Eurovision of my people.

The artists are much less important to us than the songwriters. Sometimes those are the same people, but sometimes not. The winners of this contest are the songwriters, though, the artists are just a necessary evil.

So! The entries!

First up! Heno, meaning 'tonight'. The songwriters wanted to write something that would make everyone want to dance :). The artists are therefore a sexy Eurovision-style singer who hits notes I previously have only heard autotuned in Crypt of the Necrodancer, and a funky DJ man. This is the most Eurovision-y song, probably.

Yr Un Fath (The Same Thing), by Jacob Howells! He wrote this one himself. Lovely lad, from Llanelli. A gentle ballad.

Again, singing their own song! These are the songwriters! Exciting. This is Cymru yn y Cymylau (Wales in the Clouds), which is a very nice song about how no matter where they go in the world, they see Wales - and by extension their Welshness - in the clouds, staying with them. A route back home.

Mêl (Honey). Same again, they wrote their own song. This is a song about late stage capitalism and the environment and having hope for the future told through the metaphor of bees. Slight funk/soul vibe. The stage backdrop was increasingly filled with clipart bees.

Cysgod Coed (The trees' shadow). A ballad about lost love and broken promises. The songwriter is teenage girl Efa Rowlands, the singer is classmate Gwion Phillips.

This one felt the most like a Swedish Eurovision entry. The singer is half of Welsh band Lofi Jones, but no one even mentioned that, because he didn't write the song, so it's not about him. The song Pethau Yn Newid (Things Are Changing) instead is about how life is moving too fast and we should appreciate the time we have more, because he's aging and everything is changing and he can't keep up. They probably should have gotten someone older to sing it.

Absolute vocal powerhouse ballad, Ti (You) is part-written and all-performed by music teacher Sara Davies. The lyrics were a love letter her grandfather wrote to her grandmother before he died; Sara then wrote the music for it. The background photos are her grandparents. Her grandmother was actually in the live audience on the night.

And the last one! Goleuni (Lights) is by a pair of songwriters (one music teacher and one West End star) who wanted to write a song of hope for the dark times, because the world is shit but Still We Persist. They're both talented and established songwriters. The performer is a seventeen year old schoolgirl in the class of one of the songwriters.

~~~~

So!

Anyway I disagreed with the first second and third placings of the Welsh public so hmu Tumblrs who are we choosing

[radiantvader]

Pairing : Anakin Skywalker x Jedi Master!Fem Reader

Warnings : 18+ (MINORS DNI) !! | Slight Enemies to Lovers | Dirty Talk | Unprotected Sex (wrap it before you tap it babes) | Degradation Kink | Slight Choking | Dom!Anakin | Sub!Reader | Let me know if I missed something :)

Word Count : 2.3k

Summary : In which you and Anakin are on a mission to sneak onto General Grievous' ship and capture him. Your constant banter and teasing throughout the mission frustrates Anakin, and in the end, he finds a way to let out all of his pent-up anger and frustration.

The starfighter hummed with anticipation as you and Anakin soared through the vastness of space, lightspeed blurring the stars into streaks of light, en route to General Grievous' ominous flagship. Inside the cockpit, the hum of the engines was accompanied by the low murmur of Anakin and Obi Wan discussing details about the mission. Anakin shot you a sideways glance, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.  

“So, Master" he began, the title dripping with irony, eyes fixed on the star maps. "Any brilliant ideas on how we're going to sneak onto Grievous' ship?" you smirked while leaning back, studying the holographic blueprints you had received. "Well, Master Skywalker, it seems we have a spy to thank for these detailed plans. You see that hanger over there?" Anakin scowled at the use of the title 'Master' but kept his mouth shut, trying to avoid conflict. You reactivated the holographic blueprints and showed them to him, a smirk etched onto your face. He nodded, eyes burning with impatience and anger. 

"That hanger is our way in. This is General Grievous we're talking about, so we already know that every square inch of this ship is going to be on lock. 20 droids guarding every access point are signal rotated. So once they're on the move, we only have 35 seconds until the next round of 20 droids replace them, we need to be quick. The eyes and ears are in a security room in the west hall, there are 97 motion-sensitive 8K cameras with an overlapping field of vision so there are no natural blind spots. They are always watching, always listening, blasters ready to fire. Getting through the corridors and reaching the command center is going to be easy. Now, here's where things get a little tricky, the doors to the command center have been improved, they're military-grade biometric portals made of a foot and a half of solid titanium. So we can't blow them up, we'll need to use the heat of our lightsabers to melt a hole big enough for us to go through, which might take time considering the thickness of the doors. So while I do that, I need you to cover me from the droids. Once we get into the command center, General Grievous will already be alerted to our presence and will probably have called for backup. So, the moment we enter the command center, we need to drop a smoke bomb, use the force to sense the droids, take 'em down, and then capture Grievous before the smoke clears." You explained the plan and relished Anakin's perplexed face. 

"What? Not used to having a good plan? It must be an honor to be in the company of a highly intelligent Jedi with a higher rank. Perhaps some of my brilliance will rub off on you." Anakin's perplexed face dropped and his scowl deepened, his annoyance palpable. "Brilliance, huh? We'll see about that." You smirked as Anakin sassily rolled his eyes.

As you approached Grievous' ship, you used the Force to mask your presence from the patrolling droid fighters. Anakin expertly piloted the starfighter, dodging and weaving through the asteroid field that surrounded Grievous' vessel and you couldn't help but admit that despite his impulsiveness, he was a formidable pilot. "Nice flying, Skywalker" you complimented, a hint of genuine admiration in your voice. "Save the praising for after we're inside" Anakin quipped. You rolled your eyes, about to retort, but quickly shut your mouth as you approached the hangar bay. Your starfighter hovered in front of the hanger; you were waiting for the perfect moment to go in. The moment the battle droids were switching posts, you and Anakin slipped into Grievous' hangar undetected. And as the ship's bay doors closed behind your starfighter, you both breathed a momentary sigh of relief. 

Stepping out of the starfighter, you and Anakin moved through the dimly lit corridors of Grievous' ship, lightsabers ignited and senses heightened. The air was heavy with tension as you encountered patrols of battle droids. You deflected oncoming blaster shots, not hesitating to take jabs at Anakin. "Careful Skywalker, wouldn't want you tripping over your own bravado." you quipped, voice laced with sarcasm. He shot you an irritated look, "I've handled tougher situations than this." Anakin muttered, deflecting blaster bolts effortlessly. "Of course you have, Chosen One" you snorted, swiftly dispatching a pair of droids with calculated strikes. His jaw clenched, but you caught a glimpse of a smirk he couldn't suppress. Your banter echoed through the metal corridors as you navigated through the labyrinthine ship. The occasional sparks of your lightsabers illuminated the path, creating an otherworldly dance of light and shadow.

As you both neared the command center, the droid resistance intensified. Waves of battle droids surged forward, blasters firing in unison. You and Anakin moved with synchronized precision, your contrasting styles weaving together seamlessly. But when you both reached the command center doors, you quickly got to work. You thrust your lightsaber into the titanium doors and hummed, pleased when the lightsaber melted through the titanium quicker than expected. You drew a decently sized circle with your lightsaber and with a powerful kick, a large circular piece of the titanium doors fell onto the floor, the command center coming into your view. Grievous, who was alerted to your presence, awaited both you and Anakin with his spinning lightsabers, surprisingly with no reinforcements. 

The battle with Grievous unfolded like a chaotic dance, Anakin's acrobatic moves clashed with Grievous' relentless onslaught. Meanwhile, you circled around Grievous, strategically analyzing his patterns, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. "Now!" Anakin shouted, distracting Grievous for a split second. Seizing the opportunity, you lunged forward, lightsaber slashing through the air and delivering a powerful strike that sent Grievous reeling. With a few swift moves, Anakin cut off Grievous' mechanic arms and legs. 

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Returning to the Jedi Temple, you both faced the Council. Yoda and Obi-Wan listened intently as you recounted the details of the mission. Yoda's wise eyes bore into yours, assessing not just your words but the unspoken dynamics between you and Anakin. "Hmm, impressive, your teamwork is," Yoda noted, a twinkle in his eyes. "Learn from each other, you must." he continued, and Obi Wan, ever the diplomatic voice, added "Your cooperation has proven fruitful. May the Force continue to guide you both." When the debriefing concluded, you and Anakin made your way back to your quarters in contemplative silence. However, the tension lingered. You leaned against a wall in the secluded hallway and crossed your arms, a teasing smirk etched onto your face.

"Hey Skywalker, do you ever wonder what it's like to be a true master?" He clenched his jaw, balling up his fists, knuckles turning white. "I've got enough on my plate without you constantly annoying me, shut the fuck up for once." He jeered at you, but you just stepped closer, voice dropping to a teasing whisper "Perhaps you're just afraid you'll never measure up."  

Anakin snapped. In an instant, he had you pressed against the wall, his eyes ablaze with fury and frustration. "Enough! I don't care about official titles, I will not allow you to talk to me like that. Learn your fucking place." He seethed, his hand wrapping around your throat painfully. Yet in the charged atmosphere of your conflict, a different kind of energy simmered, a potent blend of unresolved tension and the unspoken truth. And in an inexplicable twist of fate, your shared animosity acted as an irresistible force, leading to a momentary pause that culminated in an unexpected collision of your lips—a fierce, passionate kiss born from a volatile mix of anger and desire, leaving you breathless and conflicted. Like opposing magnets pulled by an invisible force, your bodies surged together.  

The kiss deepened and your breathing became ragged. As the hallway filled with your gasps and fervent whispers, you felt your resistance crumbling completely as Anakin's lips claimed yours with a hunger that mirrored your untamed passions. It was as if the world around you had vanished, leaving only the two of you entangled in the most primal of embraces. "You make me feel things I shouldn't..." you whispered, voice rough and hoarse. Anakin only responded by deepening the kiss, his lips and tongue exploring yours with a zealous intensity that left you breathless. Your bodies continued to strain against one another, their tempo growing more desperate with each passing second. Your breathing grew shallow, the only sounds in the empty hallway were the soft moans of pleasure and the frantic rustle of your clothing. Anakin, driven by an insatiable desire, reached out and grabbed your hips, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. As you continued to kiss passionately, Anakin unbuckled your belt and hurriedly undressed you, the sound of your lightsaber hitting the ground filled the hallway as Anakin tossed your attire aside with a harsh motion, his eyes never leaving yours. He was certain you could feel his heart beating rapidly. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt the cool air against your skin, the sensation heightening your desire for him, nipples hardening. You reached for the fastenings of Anakin's pants, your fingers deftly unbuckling and unzipping him with ease. His erection sprang free, standing rigid and throbbing before you. He groaned into your mouth, his own hands now exploring the areas of your body that his fingers had only briefly touched. He reached between your legs, his fingers brushing against the wetness that had begun to seep through your underwear.  

"Fuck" he whispered, his voice a hoarse growl, as he felt the evidence of your own arousal. You let out a soft moan as Anakin’s lips brushed against your neck, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. He grasped your underwear, sliding it down your legs, his gaze never leaving yours. As the fabric slipped away, exposing your wetness to the cool air, you felt a shiver of anticipation ripple through your body. Anakin's hands traced the curve of your hips, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs as he guided himself towards you. He felt your warmth, your wetness, and the knowledge that you were about to be one with each other sent a surge of desire coursing through him. With a deep, shuddering breath, Anakin positioned himself at the entrance to your core.  

He looked into your eyes, his own mirroring the raw intensity of your passion. You closed your eyes, bracing yourself, but right as he was about to slide in, he stopped, "Beg for it." You looked up at him with wide eyes, "What?" you asked perplexed. "I said beg for it." He smirked, toying with you. "C'mon Anakin, please... I need you..." you muttered, embarrassment seeping through your bones. "Oh come on, you and I both know that you can do better than that." He smiled mockingly, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance. Tears prickled the edges of your eyes as you looked up at him desperately, considering throwing your pride away for a moment. "Anakin please, I'm begging you. I need you so badly... It hurts..." your face flushed in embarrassment and Anakin let out a pleased hum, grinning wickedly. Then, with one swift, powerful thrust, he drove himself into you.  

You gasped, your eyes widening in amazement and pleasure as you felt the fullness of his size fill you, the stretch sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. "'s too big..." you whimpered when Anakin started thrusting, both pain and pleasure coursing through your veins, "Take it like a good girl and stop whining" Anakin grunted, his thrusts growing steadily more frenzied as the passion of the moment consumed you both. Your bodies moved in a symphony of ecstasy, each thrust a testament to your shared hunger and unspoken longing. Anakin thrust into you with vigor, your fingers dug into his back, the press of his hips against your clit causing you to moan softly with each stroke. Your own arousal grew, your inner walls tightening around him with every thrust, your body eager to take him deeper, to draw him in.  

His tip delightfully hit your cervix, causing you to throw your head back as a moan of pure ecstasy was ripped from your throat. Your hands travelled upwards and grabbed Anakin’s hair, tugging harshly, eliciting a groan from him. “Fucking slut.” He growled lowly while his movements sped up. Anakin gripped onto your hips, roughly pulling you closer to him with each thrust. “Look at you, not so talkative now, are you?” Anakin jeered with a coarse voice, but the only response he got back was a soft mewl. “Aw, did I fuck you dumb already?” He mocked you, enjoying the way your eyes rolled back into your head.  

Anakin's pace was relentless, he had a bruising grip on your hips, thrusting fast, deep, and hard into you. You could feel the pressure build in your lower belly and your walls clenched around Anakin. As his own climax approached, Anakin’s thrusts got sloppier, sweat dripping from his hair and forehead. But as he reached down to fiddle with your overly-sensitive clit, you broke. You clenched around him, letting out a sputtering moan as you came. The feeling of you squeezing around him, soaking him, was enough to send Anakin over the edge.

Heavy and ragged breaths came out of your mouths as Anakin slowly dropped you down from his arms and helped you get dressed. The silence that ensued wasn't awkward, it was tense. Both of you knowing how this could change everything. 

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A/N : Guys please don't expect my writing to be perfect, I'm not a professional writer, and It'll take time for me to learn and progress. Also btw the plan in the beginning was inspired by that one scene in the movie 'Red Notice'. It's a great film, you guys should definitely watch it! Anyway, I hope you guys liked this, if I made any mistakes or if you have any tips, please don't hesitate to let me know! <3

[silassinclair]

Yandere Wild West Outlaw x Reader

CW// Possession, Obsession, Yandere Behavior, Jealousy, Suggestive Content, Gaslighting, Maddox has a housewife fetish (16+)

Masterlist

When Maddox first saw you hiding in your wardrobe after having killed your Father he was shocked to see such a pretty woman inside. He knew your Father had a daughter but he didn't know she'd be a fierce and beautiful young woman.

Maddox knew he had to have you. No way was he going to leave you in this bumfuck town in the middle of no where. You're too valuable.

He ties you up and takes you away from your hometown. You're his now so he's taking you with him wherever he goes. Having a pretty little accessory like you will give him bragging rights after all.

He takes you to saloons while he plays cards with his buddies. Has you sit still and look pretty on his lap while he drinks and plays. His friends say dirty things about you. Commenting on how submissive you are for Maddox. Maddox eats their comments up like a full course meal.

"You boys wish you had this fine piece of ass. But she's mine."

When you're at his temporary house he has you play housewife. You cook his food, clean his laundry, and most importantly you take him like a good girl and let him use you to pleasure himself.

"You like that yeah? You don't? Then shut your pretty little mouth n' take it anyway. Don't make me mad now."

But over the course of a few months and after spending more time with you he sees you less as an object to brag about and more as a companion. He sees you everyday so of course he develops feelings. Feelings he denies of course.

"You think cus' I'm being nice lately you can just skip doin' laundry? Well you've been a good girl this week so I'll let it slide... But you're doin' it tomorrow! No excuses!"

Maddox takes you to the saloon with him again as usual. This time the sexual comments his friends say make him see red. He draws his gun and shoots them all dead where they sit.

"I should have never let em' say that vulgar shit bout' you. Shoulda never let you in that shithole in the first fuckin' place. C'mon, we're goin' home."

Fucks you gently this time and prioritizes your pleasure over his. You're so cute mewling beneath him. Praises you instead of degrades you.

"You can take it princess, c'mon! Don't tell me to slowdown when I can feel how good you feel on me. Yeah that’s it, good girl. Doin’ so good for me… Ya’ feel divine~"

He slowly starts bringing you into town less often. When you ask why you can't come with him he simply says that you're safer at home.

A month goes by and you're tired of being holed up in his house. So you take the risk and leave while he's taking his afternoon nap.

Bad Choice….

"You thought you could leave me?! Baby I love ya', I really do but sometimes you're real fuckin' stupid."

Locks the doors, windows, and always has his eye on you. When he has to go out he keeps you tied to the bed by the ankle.

Every night he holds you close to him. He's a light sleeper, he'll feel if you move and try to escape him. If that happens he'll embrace you in a nearly bone crushing hug.

He’ll wrestle with you if you try and fight him, but he’ll never strike you. He’d never do that after seeing the abuse his Mother endured from her customers at the brothel.

Comes home one day with two golden rings. He wears one and forces the other onto your ring finger. It's a perfect fit.

"You're my wife now and I'm your husband. You'll address me as such, got it?"

No wedding, no priest, no judge, no documentation. He says you're his wife now and that's that.

"There's names engraved inside the rings.? That's just the name of the jeweler I got it from... Don't worry your pretty little head about it."

You two never get to settle down. You hop from one abandoned home to the other. After all he needs to always be on the run from the law. It's a stressful but exhilarating lifestyle. Danger lurks at every corner.

Loves calling you by his last name. Though your last name is still legally L/n; Maddox says that since you’re his wife you have his last name. After all you two are wearing the rings to prove it!

"Thank you for the meal Mrs. Graves, God you're perfect. Where have you been all my life?"

He adores your body. Doesn't matter what body type you have. Chub? He's kneading it with his hands while he praises you like the goddess you are. Insecure about how the outline of your ribcage is visible? He traces his fingers down to your tummy and then goes even lower... He can't keep his hands off.

Favorite thing to do is hug you from behind and just press your backside against him while you do chores. It feels so domestic and it makes him feel like he isn’t a wanted criminal for a moment.

Kisses? He loves to kiss you! His favorite spots are your ankles, tummy, and forehead. And your lips ofc!

Whenever you have to slip your stockings on he swats your hands away and does it. He’ll pull them up sensually and slowly, trailing kisses from your ankle up to your thigh as he does so.

“Your skin’s so soft princess, just wanna take a bite. You’ll let me right?”

He loves animals. His horse Jasper is his best friend. Jasper won't let anyone ride him except for you and Maddox. Anyone else gets thrown off and stomped on.

Since this is the 1800’s people don’t really bathe as often. But Maddox is different. He can’t stand having grime on him for too long after you called him stinky once. So now he bathes more often than most. And you bathe with him too. You have no choice in the matter.

“Mmm love it when you wash my hair sweetheart… Ya’ fingers feel like heaven..”

Maddox is a tough guy. He's taken bullets, stabs, you name it. He even survived a hanging once. If anything happens to you he'll fight God himself just to keep you safe. Even if it costs him his life.

"GET YA' MEATHOOKS OFF MY WIFE YOU FUCKIN' ANIMALS!"

Tells you he loves you everyday. And if you don't say it back? Well he'll just bug you until you say it. After your "marriage" he doesn't really punish you anymore. You’re his partner for life, you deserve the world.

Respects women. His Mother worked in a brothel so he witnessed how men mistreated women. He could never do that to you... Even though he did early in your relationship. But he'll never admit that! Bring it up and he'll call you crazy.

"Sweetheart I never harmed a hair on your head, quit talkin' nonsense."

Teaches you how to fire a gun just in case. Hopefully you'll never have to use the skill though.

Spoils you whenever he can. Maddox has a decent amount of money but it's still pretty tight. Buying you things isn't an option because being on the run means you need to have minimal baggage. So he treats you to dinners and cute little dates.

Overtime you get used to this life. You forget he ever even killed your old man.

Anyone is free to request anything! Don't be shy! I'm hyperfixiating on this oc so I'll happily write anything for him. As long as it isn't blatant NSFW :-)

[enviedear]

omg maybe some fluff/angst abt billy being protective. like maybe gf/wife!reader is getting hit on and she can normally protect herself but maybe some guy gets a little too handsy with her and then billy steps in to protect his baby:(( i think i would actually die

protective!billy bonney...

babe i'm always down for protective!billy, because he's just intrinsically protective. and that's hot.

tw— violence, a bullet graze (not billy or reader), men being mysogonistic (this is the wild west idk what to tell ya), unwanted touch (on the waist, no private areas)

request

it'd been a long day already, and the sun hadn't even struck noon. rowdy ranch hands, drunkards, and gang members littered the town square. their minds hazy from drink, worsened by the hot sun.

it was a day of celebration, according to them. the lot of them managed to wrangle up a pack of wild coyotes the night before, the same pack that'd been laying waste to everyone's animals and supplies.

it was a gruesome yet necessary job, but the parlay in town has your ears steaming. they've already ruined an innocent game of catch the local kids had been playing and you roll your eyes when they start to approach you and the rest of the ladies standing outside the dress shop.

you avert your gaze, looking into the crowd for your fiancee. with no sight of billy, who's probably held up at the general store, you focus in on your dusty boots. you'd rather stare at them than the haughty men on their rampage.

"ain't you billy's little thing?" a gruff voice calls out.

you lift your head to find a impish man with tufts of blonde hair, "yes sir, that'd be me." your tone is kind, but your words clipped.

the man draws closer, spitting to his left before giving you a drunken snd sly smirk, "got himself a pretty one, ain't he?"

his question is redundant, and you opt not to answer. instead you give him a smile, slowly backing away and inching toward the entrance of the shop.

the women around you won't be any help, too worried with fending off the other rambunctious men. you're going to have to get yourself out of this one.

the man continues his pursuit of you, "gimme your name, girl. m'bettin' it's real nice."

your fingers find the doorknob behind you but your eyes widen when the door refuses to budge. damn shopkeeper, locking up when you need a safe haven most.

"i'm sorry, sir, my fiancee must be looking for me." your excuse is lame, but you pray it works.

the man steps closer, his hand reaching out to grab your arm. you flinch away, but he manages to grip you tightly anyway.

"come on now, don't be shy," he slurs, pulling you towards him. "what's your name, pretty thing?"

you struggle against his grip, but he's too strong. panic sets in as you realize there's no one around to help you, and you start to fear the worst.

"you need to let go o'me. my fiancee will kill you." you've grown desperate, enough so to lay your strongest card on the table— billy.

the man let out a hearty laugh, "fiancee? ain't no man gonna tie you down, little lady. not till you've had a taste of a real man."

you grow angrier by the second, but you can't help but laugh at his ignorance, "i think that's you giving yourself too much credit, sir," you reply, your voice dripping with sarcasm, "i' got myself a real man, the man i love. now if you don't let me go, you'll be sorry."

the man grows more forceful, pinning you to him, breath brushing your ear and hands groping your waist, "do you well to learn to shut you mouth, girl."

but just as you're about to give up hope, frozen in fear as the man trails his hands over you, a gunshot rings out, piercing the air like a sharp knife.

the man releases you, his face contorting in pain as he clutches at his leg. you inspect the wound as he falls away, just a graze, but you're sure it hurts like hell.

you turn away from the drunk, eyes finiding billy only yards away, his revolver still smoking in his hand. his face is cold and hard, his eyes blazing with anger.

"you heard the lady," billy speaks with a low and menacing voice. "i don't want to kill you, but if i so much as see you touch her again, you'll regret it."

the other men back away, pulling their injured friend with them, fear written all over their faces. they know better than to mess with billy, especially when he's in a foul mood.

you rush towards him, throwing your arms around his neck. his embrace is tight and fierce, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"you okay?" he asks, his voice softening as he looks down at you.

you nod, voice shakey, "i am now," you whisper, feeling safe in his arms.

together, you walk away from the chaos of the town square, grateful for the love and protection you've found in each other.

—reblog and like if you enjoyed, let ur local writer know you like her work !

[goosita]

no no billy taking you out on his horse and showing you the reigns but it’s a bit hard to concentrate with him and his wandering hands pushed up behind you

oh my god you don't understand this is peak romantic fantasy for me on GOD

riding around out in the fields with billy because he has a day to himself, and he wants to spend it with you.

and we all know billy loves his horse, and he's so good at riding the animal and taming it. he asks if you wanna go out with him for a ride and you're reluctant at first. of course, this is the wild west. lots of people know how to ride horses, it's a huge mode of transportation. but...you had never spent that much time around them. you lived in town and didn't tend to stray from there, and your interactions with the animals were mostly limited to carriage rides where someone else was in control.

"c'mon angel, it'll be fun. promise," he says, giving you those imploring blue eyes all round and wide. you agreed, knowing that billy would never let anything happen to you. not that you were scared. just a little uneasy, is all.

but then the afternoon comes and he's got you sat comfortably right in front of him in the saddle. his chest is warm and solid against your back, your bum is settled nicely in the cradle of his hips and his thighs, keeping you right there against him. your hands rest on the saddle horn while his arms are resting around your waist, holding the reins.

lady, his horse, wanders around where he guides her. she's a pretty horse, white with speckles and she's very calm. you can tell that her and billy have a quiet kind of trust between them.

"see?" he grins, leaning his head down to peck your cheek. "not so bad, is it?"

and it's not. it's not bad at all, really. you can tell your thighs might be a little sore later from the unconscious way you're clenching them to feel balanced, but this is actually kinda nice. the sun is perched in the middle of the sky, warming the fields and your skin. bugs and wildlife are buzzing around you as you ride, and billy seems so relaxed and content behind you.

"you wanna take the reins for a bit?" he asks, patting your thigh and giving it an affectionate squeeze. he likes to do that, give you these little pets and caresses sometimes. just because he can.

"oh...um....i don't really know-"

"nonsense, it's easy. here." he cuts you off gently, placing the leather reins in your hands. he explains to you what actions the horse will take as cues, and you don't dare do anything but encourage the animal to keep on moseying forward like she had been. billy chuckles softly at your hesitance, but he doesn't make fun. he lets you do what you're comfortable with.

you try to focus on directing lady where you want her to go, but it starts to get harder when billy's hands slide up and down your outer thighs slowly. you know he's probably not trying to distract you or rile you up, but you can't help the way your body and mind react to his touch.

billy rests his chin on your shoulder and hums, some silly little folk tune he must have stuck in his head. you can feel the vibrations of his voice against your back and it makes your tummy flutter with butterflies. no matter how long you and billy have been together, even little things like this make your heart stutter like a lovesick teen with a crush.

"you're doin' great, honey," he murmurs, and you can feel his smile against your cheek where he still rests over your shoulder. it makes you feel better, the praise. you like it when he praises you, even for little things like this.

his hands begin to wander, though, and you're not sure you can stay focused on controlling lady. billy brings his hands up to your hips, his fingers dipping into the waistband of the pants he'd loaned you to ride in. it's not inherently sexual, the way he's touching you. a little intimate to be touched out in the open like this, a little against decorum, but you're alone out here anyway. he strokes your skin softly, adoringly, like he just wants to feel you under his fingertips. as much as you like it, it's too distracting.

"here," you blurt, handing him the reins back. "can't think straight with you around." it comes out more playful than scolding, though, and billy chuckles.

"alright. whatever you want, angel," he tells you, pressing another kiss to your cheek before taking over again.

let's talk about billy, baby!

[bubbysawyer]

how the slashers sleep (with reader)

billy lenz:

stares. he stares at you a lot. he can't sleep...well, or often.

WILL trap you in a snare of limbs when he eventually does fall asleep. you may not escape until he is ready

clingy. clingy, clingy, clingy. clingy. you're his, deal with it

probably talks in his sleep?

wakes up a lot and wakes you up in the process; but it's normal and you just kiss his head and will him back to sleep.

brahms heelshire

his sleep schedule is mandatory, duh, so. you're going to sleep when he does or he'll throw a fit

he's an honestly very cuddly man when it comes to you. he loves you, he's glued to you, he's addicted to you

he LOVES waking up with you in the morning and going to the kitchen for breakfast (that you make)

he absolutely disrupts you making breakfast with kisses

jason voorhees

he's undead, he doesn't sleep, but he pretends for you!

he loves watching you sleep, he strokes your hair and sighs to himself about how beautiful you look

might doze-not-sleep with you next to him. you soothe him.

he makes breakfast before you get up. he's a master of making breakfast.

the collector/asa emory

tells you how much he cherishes you as his favorite pet (probably giving you physical gratification as well) before lying beside you

very into cuddling you. touching you in general.

WILL NOT sleep until he makes you feel special. no negotiation.

sleeps like a stone. you cannot wake this man yourself, but he does wake up for other things...such as alarms.

makes you an amazing breakfast in the morning.

this man essentially worships you as his little pet, and he is your beloved master.

chop top sawyer

will most likely want to make out

music. at least two albums before be can get tired, this dude is god damned Energy As Hell and music helps him get tired/relax

...might try and grope you a bit, so, uh.

falls off the bed a lot, usually head-first. does not wake up at all. hope you like seeing your boyfriend snoring upside down with his face on the floor bc that's your normal morning

pyramid head

will just look at you. he doesn't sleep. does he?

BUT he loves lying down with you in a soft mattress. it's nice on his back.

he WILL at least try to shove his weird, long tongue into your mouth bc that's...how he kisses you, so

he might doze off a bit for a while

purrs in his sleep when he feels you hold him

any noise in the night will alarm him and you will probably have to grab his arm or w/e to keep him inside. it is safest inside; but it is hard for him to relax bc he does not want any threat around you

herbert west

goes to bed at a certain time or a random time due to him being a workaholic freak

showers each night, puts on his night clothes

kisses you deep and tugs you tightly to him, muttering into your ear just how much he needs you, how much he wants you here

he knows he's...like how he is, and in the past he did not make it clear how much he NEEDS you with him

sleeps on his back but ends up tangled up with you in like 45 minutes.

he talks in his sleep. not loudly, he literally mutters his own notes.

[kiwisbell]

Told Before and Told Again [din djarin]

One time you saved Din, and one time he saved you.

series masterlist

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags and warnings: established relationship, dubious consent due to sex pollen, unprotected piv (no following the leader), the helmet stays on, actually everything stays on, but reader gets nakey, animal handler!reader, grogu being a good kid, protective din, dirty talk, fuck or die, creampie, fingering, rough sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, thighplate riding, masturbation, top din, soft din, din fucking the babysitter, extreme amounts of fluff, allusions to animal abuse, din djarin being actually the biggest mess to ever inhabit the galaxy, happy family, din is in love, mando'a pet names

word count: ~ 7k

this is installment one of my din djarin series entitled told before and told again. please enjoy din being very bad at his job, a mysterious pouch of pink powder, and din coming to your rescue. emphasis on coming.

Told Before and Told Again

You’re getting sick of staring apprehensively into pitch-black tunnels, waiting for your warrior to emerge from the darkness. 

Next to you, a worried gurgle emanates from the floating pod. You press your lips together. “Yeah. I know, sweet one. He’s going to be okay.”

He grumbles his disagreement, reaching out a three-fingered hand toward you. You shuffle closer to him and let him clutch your index finger. “How long has it been?” you ask him. “It can’t have been that long. Right?”

Lothal is about as Outer Rim as you can get. It's a pretty planet, when you aren't trudging through a wind-blown desert to find the mountains. Not that the mountains were hard to find: they erupt from the earth in the west, snow-capped and bridged by rocky plains. The air is temperate, but you shiver, waiting for him. Always waiting for him. 

Never get brave for me. Understood? 

Something clatters to the slick, rocky ground and lands on your foot. “Ow,” you gasp, picking up the blaster and pinning Grogu with a stare. He stares back, owlish and yet somehow stern. “You know I can’t shoot this for the life of me.”

“You're holding that thing like you want to choke it out.”

You huffed, trying to loosen your grip around the blaster. “Like this?”

“You're not supposed to be scared of the weapon you're holding.”

“Unbelievable.” You closed one eye to home in on the target: the severed head of his latest bounty, a raper and pirate. “My last boss never micromanaged this much.”

The air behind you shifted. A rough, gloved hand slipped around your waist and pressed on your belly. It was an adjustment of your posture, straightening your spine, but you knew, and he knew, that he had pulled you just a little bit closer to him. His voice, modulated and raspy in your ear, knocked your knees together. “I'm not your boss. Open your eye.”

“What if it kicks back?”

“It won’t. It’s a blaster.”

“What if they take it from me?”

He covered your hand with his, shifting your fingers to tighten around the grip. “Hold onto it,” he said plainly.

You rolled your eyes and levelled the weapon at the raper’s head. The shot missed by a foot. “Better,” he said after a beat.

“Now you’re just being mean.”

“My job is to keep you safe,” he said, “not play nice. Now try again.” He placed his hand on your lower back, tightening your posture, his armour cold on the back of your thigh through the thin material of your dress. You held your breath to keep from visibly trembling against him, but he noticed. Of course he noticed. “You’re allowed to breathe.”

“You’re making me nervous.”

“Good. You should never be relaxed in a fight.” He lifted your elbow slightly. “Shoot.”

“You just said I was allowed to breathe. Now I can't relax.”

“They're not the same thing, and you're stalling. Don't be difficult.”

You fired a shot at the severed head, and it blew past the target by a wider margin than the last one. You huffed, “Some people aren't meant to fight, you know.”

You sensed that he was amused. “And what were you meant to do?”

“Look pretty. Give moral support.”

The noise that rumbled out of his modulator definitely seemed amused. “Then I’ll be the fighter. You just need to know the right time to shoot.”

You turned in his grasp, forgetting wholly that you were holding a blaster. “And what if you aren’t there?”

A glimmer of sunlight blinded you as his visor shifted, tilting downward. “I’ll be there.”

You relented, firing another shot, then two, three, at the pirate’s head. Only the second one managed to graze the greasy, wily strips of hair that sprouted from its ugly head. When it was over, you slumped, pouting, against your firm warrior. 

“This is hopeless,” you told him. 

For a moment, he said nothing, and you wondered if he'd finally snapped with impatience. 

“You are, you know,” he said.

“What?”

“Pretty.” He nudged your finger back onto the trigger. “Now go on, dangerous girl. You're not done until I say you are.”

You try to peer into the tunnel but it’s so shrouded in darkness you would have to peel it aside like a curtain. When you take a step forward, the cave wails. Or, more accurately, someone inside the cave wails, howling with pain. It’s not your Mandalorian’s voice, which makes your body deflate. “See?” you say to Grogu. “He’s fine.”

But a roar erupts from the depths of the cave, followed by the telltale echo of your warrior’s pained groan, and you decide that it’s best to intervene. You’ll chew him out later. “Stay behind me, cyare,” you tell Grogu. He gurgles worriedly, but you grip the blaster firmly in your hand and press your back to the wall of the cave. 

“This is stupid,” you tell yourself. “This is very… very stupid.” You skirt along the wall, its jagged rocks catching the fabric of your shirt as you keep your blaster up near your shoulder, pointed away from your body. 

Never point the bad end toward you.

Don’t patronise me. I’m holding a deadly weapon.

Well, I’m holding a dozen. And I’d prefer if you kept your face.

My pretty face?

Shoot properly and I’ll tell you.

“Mando?” you call out, cursing the way your voice trembles. You cannot call him by his real name while he pursues a bounty. You cannot give them a weapon to wield against him. 

No one answers your call. You don’t particularly expect him to, but it still makes your stomach plummet as you navigate the darkness until the light is barely a pinprick in the direction you came. Grogu coos to signal that he is still floating behind you, but you lift your forearm and press a button to close the roof over his pod. You hear a faint clank as he pounds a fist against the door, but you will risk the consequences of his tantrum when this is over. You will not risk his life. 

You come to a fork in the cave, but another deafening roar makes the decision for you. You leap to the other side of the cave and keep your back flush to the damp, cool walls as you shuffle past the narrow opening. Grogu’s pod scrapes along both sides as it floats along, making you grimace. Another cry from the creature in the depths of the cave, something mammalian, high-pitched, screeching. It grates your ears and makes you wince as it gets undeniably closer. 

This is so stupid. For some reason, the acknowledgement of it makes you feel better. 

The cave yawns into a wide opening—one that drops precariously into blackness after two steps. You gasp, jumping backward to avoid toppling over the edge. It seems deliberate, this pit: you can see a platform skirting around the gaping width of it, and your stomach churns as you peer into its depths. You fumble for a match and strike it against the wall. When it falls, it bounces off another wall and illuminates that it's really not all that deep… 

But there's something curled up inside, and it's covering the body of your Mandalorian. 

Behind you, Grogu’s pod wedges itself into the narrow passageway. You keep your body square in front of him. All you glimpse, before the match bounces against the thing’s coiled horns and fizzles out, is a pair of black, glowing eyes. Covered in coarse black fur, breathing like a charging rancor through its large nostrils. It's got four legs and it's purposefully pinning the Mandalorian down on the floor of the pit with one wolf-like paw. You wonder how it even managed to squeeze inside this cave and squeeze back out to hunt its food. When you strike another match and catch a pair of legs out of the corner of your eye, you understand. 

The legs connect to the immobile body of the Lothalian bounty you'd come all the way to this planet for. You aren't sure if he's dead, but it doesn't matter. He keeps this creature as a pet, and it's got your warrior in its clutches. 

“Mando,” you hiss. It's a complete wager: one that doesn't pay off. He’s clearly unconscious, and the terror of it throbs in your chest. The creature’s head tilts in your direction. 

Shit. 

You think back to your days as an animal handler. The first day a Mandalorian warrior appeared on the doorstep of your facility. Your first day of adventure.

“I need a babysitter.”

You looked up from your embroidery—you wanted to hang it up inside your newest ward’s cage; he was a runt-of-the-litter loth cat who didn’t know any better, but you wanted to make it special for him—and peered around your boss, who was speaking with a man dressed in silver armour.

You don’t remember thinking much of him. You do remember looking down at his feet and gushing over the tiny, green, big-eared thing at his feet. You fell over yourself to introduce yourself to the little guy before you even looked up at the warrior. Your boss had been humiliated (“That is a Mandalorian ,” he later scolded you with a firm grip on your ear), but you think it’s exactly why the Mandalorian hired you. 

“I can pay you well. Just… protect him with your life.”

The little green thing was nestled in the crook of your arm, cooing happily and twisting your hair around his three fingers. You looked up at the masked warrior and said, “I don’t care how much you can pay. I’ll keep him safe all the same.”

To your credit, you did. Over and over again. 

You don’t remember how or when your job description began to include keeping his father safe, too.

You spent your days handling small creatures left out on the street. You don’t know how to handle this gargantuan, snarling beast. Skirting around the pit in the ground, you point your blaster at the monster’s head. It growls, lashing out with one giant paw, and you yelp, jumping backward and pressing yourself up against the wall. It backs away when you turn the blaster away from its face.

You take in your surroundings. The Mandalorian’s blaster, smashed to pieces in the pit with him. The Lothalian bounty does not carry a blaster, but you spot a plasma rod strapped to his belt. It’s the sort of tool an animal handler recognises: the length of a forearm, white as the heat of a flame, the hilt cold steel, built for a strong grip. It’s similar to an Imperial baton, but you could pick this weapon out anywhere. You were used to confiscating them from clients.

The realisation sparks to life in your head. You lean down and set the blaster on the ground. Confirming your suspicions, the creature’s gaze follows it. 

There’s a large rock nearby, so you pick it up and begin to smash the pieces to shrapnel. The beast watches you all the while until the job is complete, and your hands lifts into the air to show it that you’re unarmed. 

It shifts off the Mandalorian as it rises to all four feet and approaches you. But you aren’t afraid when it sniffs your hands. “Hello,” you say softly. 

It snorts, the smell of its breath like death in your nostrils. “That’s my friend you’ve got there.” You indicate with your head the Mandalorian, stirring slightly out of unconsciousness. You doub the creature understands you, but you keep talking. “If we take your master away and let you free, will that make you happy?”

The beast snorts again, and there’s some spittle on your clothes, but you smile. “That would make me happy, too.”

In the pit, the Mandalorian awakens with a star, rolling over onto his back and pointing the flamethrower on his vambrace at the beast. “Stop!” you cry, your hands flinging out. “Don’t hurt it!”

“Don’t hurt—” The helmet turns to look your way. “What?”

“We are going to take our bounty, and we’re going to free this creature.” You pin your warrior with a glare. “Got it?”

For a moment, he says nothing. The beast sits back on its haunches and waits patiently. Finally, the Mandalorian scrambles to his feet and lifts himself out of the pit. The first thing he does is point his finger in your direction. “I’ll deal with you in a minute.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re welcome.”

Just because he’s in a grumpy mood, you let him drag the unconscious Lothalian out of the cave. He takes a different route than you did, though: it’s much larger, big enough to fit the beast if it were to squeeze through. If you had only taken a left, you would have had a much more pleasant journey into the cave.

“Come on,” grunts the Mandalorian, pulling the Lothalian by the ankles.

You shake your head. “I won’t leave it. It might think I’m abandoning it.”

His helmet levels you with what you guess is an incisive glare. “You—”

He stops himself and seems to decide it isn’t worth it. Next to you, Grogu opens his pod and gurgles curiously at the creature. The beast lumbers out of the pit once his master disappears and sniffs your fingers some more. “Look at that,” you coo at your green companion. “Our new friend.”

Grogu lifts his head toward the entrance of the cave and you can feel the Mandalorian’s presence behind you before you hear his voice. 

“C’mon. Time to go.”

The beast follows dutifully as you depart, though it struggles to fit its great width through the cavern passageway. Once you see light again, you're so blinded by the shift that you trip over a rock while shielding your eyes. A firm gloves hand steadies you at your lower back. 

Once your eyes adjust, you find yourself staring up into those giant black gems in the beast’s head. For good measure, it stomps over to its Lothalian master and gives him a firm kick in the ribs with its paw. While the Mandalorian manhandles the bounty onto the Crest over his shoulder, you turn to the beast. It bends its head low to your face and nuzzles as gently as it can against your cheek. Grogu coos next to you, and the beast turns to lumber back down the cliffs. 

You follow the Mandalorian into the ship and find him already in the cockpit, polishing some blood off his pauldron.

“Are you hurt?” you ask him.

“No,” he says.

With that settled, you stalk toward your warrior. “You’re a complete and total mess.”

He cocks his head to the side. A challenge. Oh, you’re willing to challenge him right back. Your ears are burning and your chest is heaving.

“You're clumsy.” To punctuate your point, you poke him in the chest. “You're a great warrior in an ancient line of great warriors, and you're clumsy. Why do you have to be so… so… ugh!”

You can only throw yourself against him and wrap your arms around his neck. It's metal and cloth, cold and smooth, and the faint grunt of surprise you can hear from the helmet. His arms steady you, gloved fingers on your back, cradling your head, a warm assurance. He’s alive. He’s a moron, but he’s alive. 

“Look at me.”

He gently guides you away from him. You feel rough, cracked leather swipe away a frustrated tear from your cheek. “Dangerous girl,” he says, whisper-quiet. “I’ve told you to never get brave for me.”

“It wasn’t brave,” you say firmly. “That Lothalian was just a coward. He enslaved that poor creature. You were too big and dumb and impulsive to stop and think that it might not be fond of plasma.” Your fingertip comes to rest on the barrel of his blaster. “It’s a damn good thing you have me, Din Djarin.”

His thumb and forefinger hold your chin in place, looking up at him. “I know that. Next time—” He slips a hand around your waist and digs each finger against a rib. He knows every breakable part of a body; you wonder if he finds those parts of you on instinct. “I’ll send you in first.”

When you both strap yourselves into your seats and he begins to flick switches, you find you aren’t quite finished.

“Five minutes.”

He pauses with his finger on a switch, his helmet turning to the side. “What?”

“Five minutes, Din. I left you alone for five minutes. How can you manage to get your life so fantastically endangered in five minutes?”

He swivels in his chair and folds his arms over his broad chest. “Are you hurt?”

You purse your lips. “No.”

“Then everything’s fine.” And he swivels back around. Neither of you speak again until the ship lands. 

~

“No.”

“I haven’t even—”

“But you’re about to, and the answer is no.”

“How do you know—”

“Because I know you. You stay.”

“I’m not your dog, Din.”

“No. A dog listens.”

“Oh, my sweet, charming warrior. Remind me again why I like you?”

“I’ll let you know when I find out.”

The bounty was already dead when Din finally managed to track him down on some backwater skug hole in the Otomok system. It took a day of tracking the fob through a waterlogged forest. The bounty is propped up against a tree. Something seemed to have struck him like a sickness: he's human, but a shadow of one, sallow and ashen and stiff as bone. Din curses, checking the bounty’s pockets for anything of use. All he can find is a small pouch, one Din doesn't open. He pockets it himself and leaves the body behind. 

You're dozing in the cockpit when he returns, Grogu tucked away in his compartment. Din watches you for a moment. You're peaceful when you sleep, so unlike the whirlwind he's come to know. Your smiles and your zeal and your beauty: it all knocks him off-kilter. It's distracting. It's always been. 

Your heart is something he sometimes has trouble contending with. It's so big. It spills through his fingers. He cannot comprehend how a soul like you can settle for blood and space and silence. Selfishness defies the Creed, but it is this one thing that he indulges in: you. 

You stir, mumbling, your eyes peeling open. His footsteps are quiet, but you sense him nonetheless. Your sweet voice makes his name sound like something to be loved. 

“Din?” You rub the heel of your palm into your eye. “‘Dyougetthebounty?”

He shakes his head and produces the pouch from his pocket. “Just this. Bounty was dead.”

You frown, taking the pouch and squishing the contents around over the canvas. “Feels like powder. Was he a spice runner?”

“Gambler,” corrects Din. Your fingers begin to untie the twine that keeps the pouch closed, and his gut rolls with instinct. “Don’t—”

But there’s a small opening at the top once the knot is loose, and a cloud of pale pink powder bursts in your face. 

In your shock, it drops to the floor, but Din lurches forward to catch it, hastily tying the knot that will keep it closed. You begin to cough, standing up and backing into the wall as you try to hack out the powder in your lungs. 

“Shit,” you rasp. “Shit, Din. What the hell was that?”

He shakes his head, crowding you with his body. You know he's assessing you, but the heat of his closeness lights a fire that licks at the ceiling of your brain. “Din,” you croak, blinking hard, “I’m… fine.”

His hand closes around your wrist, and the fire spreads. It's napalm where he touches you, the flame coursing throughout the rest of your body until it singes your nerves. “‘Fresher,” he commands. “Get it off you. Could be dangerous.”

You know it’s the right thing to do, but your body disagrees. A whine slips out of your mouth when he releases you. You’re hot. Your bones are candle wax, your blood lava flowing from molten rock. You need…

You don’t know what you need. 

You break away abruptly from Din and hurry out of the cockpit, scrambling out of your clothes before you can even lock yourself in the ‘fresher. 

You scrub and clean and stick your face in the stream of hot water, but when your hand glides idly down toward your cunt and swipes the washcloth over your clit, your knees buckle. 

Oh. 

You cover your mouth with your free hand when you abandon the washcloth and press your fingers to your clit, rubbing in slow circles that ease the slow drag of flames over your skin—

“Din.”

The fire only roars when you buck your hips in a desperate attempt to deepen the friction. It isn't what you need. It isn’t good enough. 

You need—

“Din.” It's a pathetic, wrecked whisper. One that rattles your brain long after it's left your lips. The ‘fresher dries you off, but your forehead is cool with sweat and your core turns and tightens with the cloying, sickening need you have. 

The powder. It’s the powder. It will not leave your skin. It's infected your bloodstream. You stumble out of the ‘fresher and rush to find Din. Your gut churns with the trembling of alarm bells. You're sick. 

Something is wrong. He knows it the instant his eyes take their fill of your face. You're paler, swaying on your feet, your pupils engulfing your irises. You hold onto the doorway to steady yourself, as if Din isn't already there, catching you around the waist. As if he isn't the only one who can truly right you. 

“Hey.” It's soft, a little panicked, his hand brushing your hair away from your face. “Tell me what's wrong.”

“Don't…” You swallow, trying to look at—or maybe look through —his visor. Your eyes are glassy, unfocused. “Don’t know. I feel…” 

He sees the minute shift of your body toward him, your chest pushing out and your hips seeking contact with his, weapons and all still strapped to his belt. He grasps your hip, kneading the bone gently with his thumb, and the soft whine that slips from your mouth makes him squeeze his eyes shut behind the helmet. 

“Din…”

“Cyar’ika.” 

Between you—neither of you are sure when—a game starts. Your voice is thick, raspy, desperate when you say his name. “Din. I… I think—”

Your eyes flutter shut and he winds an arm around your waist, picking you up and depositing you in his pilot’s seat. You’re hot to the touch even through his gloves. It strikes terror inside him: your lively eyes dark and shrouded, your body quivering, your sweet smile twisted into a grimace of pain as sweat springs to life above your brow. 

He thinks back to the bounty he found dead. Powder in pouches, passed discretely from planet to planet. A drug, most likely. They can dull the senses or heighten them. This one seems to have the latter effect on you, and if your heart continues to beat at the pace it does now to keep time with the rest of your body, it could give out. 

He kneels in front of you, and your eyes meet, your lashes spidery on your flushed cheeks. “Am I sick?” you ask him. 

He nods, honest as ever. “The powder,” he says, surprised by how weak his voice sounds. He needs to be strong for you. He needs to help. His fingers brush your hair out of the way. It’s matted with sweat. “Tell me what you feel.”

Your hands grapple for his shoulders. “I feel hot ,” you whimper, squeezing your thighs together. “I’m—fuck, I’m so hot, Din. Need to…”

When you pull your hands away and tearfully grab at the ties on your pants, he goes blind. “Wait,” he tries, barely above a whisper, but you're pulling off your shirt, shucking off your pants, and your lashes stick together with tears as you pull your panties down your legs. 

He rears back, his cock stiffening in his pants at the sight of your wet cunt, unabashedly bared to him. You're lost in the haze of desire, your entire body trembling and perspiring with the lust that rapidly floods your senses. And yet, it feels senseless and desperate as your fingers dip to your clit and press down. Your hips buck, and he hasn't once torn his eyes away from your core since you presented it to him. 

“‘M sorry, Din,” you cry, one hand squeezing your bare tit as your fingers frantically rub your clit. You're so drenched that you spill onto his seat. His seat. “I can't… I feel like I’m dying.”

You've said things like that before in times of mild inconvenience, but he's always called you dramatic. Now, he's certain you don't have enough of a mind to hyperbolise. You may very well be dying, and his cock is so hard in his pants that he has to refrain from reaching down and squeezing his length to relieve the tension. 

Why can't he move?

A moan, pathetic and mewling, slips past your lips. He's never been more frustrated that he can't kiss you. He needs to grab you everywhere, melt your body into molten steel and shape it the way he wants, burn his lips on your scalding softness. He needs to possess your body. He needs it to take all of him, a shadow swallowing flame. 

And you're reaching for him, the way he now reaches for you. You do not understand what is happening to you. But Din will be good to you. That isn't his job—his job is to keep you alive. But he can do both. He will. 

He thinks he’ll die if he doesn't touch you, too, and he hasn't been assaulted by a faceful of pale pink powder. 

Your body is bare, confronted with all of his armour, and then it’s the cold press of beskar steel to your chest, your stomach, your thighs as he drags you out of the chair and turns you around, replacing you in his seat. You're on his lap, pushing your tits against his chest plate and breathing hard. His visor fogs up when you rest your forehead to his. He keeps you there with his hand cradling the back of your head, cooling you down with his body. 

“Feel me,” he tells you, and it feels like a command, even as his voice comes through the modulator like a prayer. It's soft as your name on his mouth. “You’ll die if you don’t move, cyar’ika.”

Your arms wind around his shoulders as you begin to grind down on his thigh guard. “Din,” you whisper, your brow furrowing in the pleasure of your clit sliding up against that cold steel. “Always… always feel like I’ll die if I don't touch you.”

“Now you're being dramatic,” he huffs, his helmet tipping back to get a better view of you. You're a vision, the movement of your hips mesmerising as you take pleasure in his warrior’s steel. Your lips are parted, a perpetual picture of desire, your body heat spiking in his thermal reader. 

He cannot grasp enough of you in his hands, so he holds you in place around your ribs while his other hand brushes over your hard nipples. You gasp at the touch, back arching and chest pushing toward him. Your cunt soaks his thigh guard, your body heat blurring the clear reflection in his armour as you burn and writhe on top of your Mandalorian. He’s so hard it aches, but watching you take pleasure from him is worth delaying his own gratification. The Creed propounds patience.

And yet, his fingers dig into the spaces between your ribs, watching your lungs expand beneath your skin. He watches you as if he wants to dissect you, spread you open, display your delicate bones for him to see. He needs to know that they are unbroken. He needs to ensure that you never know pain again. 

“Oh, Din,” you moan, grinding hard and fast on his thigh, your voice syrupy and breathless. He pinches your nipple and you gasp, the air pushing out against his visor and expanding your ribs beneath his hand. It's fascinating: knowing he can make you feel like this without shedding a scrap of his armour. 

You want all of him, all the time. You don't need skin to find it. He is this . The warrior beneath you, connected through generations to the steel he wears, unwavering in his beliefs and his strength. He is the armour as much as he is the man beneath it, the face you've never seen. You're just fine with that. 

“Take what you need,” he says, his voice pitching up a little through the modulator. Your mouth drops open and your head falls back, your chest pushing out even more. His cock twitches in his pants. “That's— nnh, that’s my girl.”

Ice water douses you as you come. Your body is electric; every touch, every wisp of air caresses your body like cold fire, sensitive and overstimulated even as the pain returns. Your scent envelops him. It's sweet and tangy. Your cunt has soaked his thigh guard, dripping over your own thighs, making a mess of yourself. Your lips find a spot just above his visor and rest there in a half-kiss, panting his name. 

“It hurts,” comes your soft cry. 

His heart cleaves in two. “I know. I know.” He’s grabbing at you desperately now, gritting his teeth when he kneads your ass but can't feel your soft skin behind his damned gloves. 

“You have to…” A shudder racks you, and you begin to clamber off him. “I’ll go. I’m… I’m sorry. Never should have—”

“Stop.”

And you do. His command washes over you like glass, sharp. It cuts incisions into the doubt that creeps in until all that's left is the debilitating need for something to satiate the fire. 

“You’ll die,” he tells you, his hands firm at your back, keeping you close. You’re straddling him, your thighs bracketing his. “If you don't take…” 

His forehead finds yours again. “Take. I want you… to take.” At his last words, his fingers slide leisurely down your body and two of them drag through your slit. 

“Oh.” You can only moan, clutching his pauldrons as he stokes the flame with his fingers pressed firmly to your clit. The scrape of the leather is delicious when he begins to rub them in circles. “Can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he urges. “Just look at me.” 

Your eyes slide up toward his visor, peering through your lashes into that black nothing, picturing eyes staring right back at you. He is watching you. He's breathing just as heavily from the aphrodisiac that is touching you. Just touching you. 

“Pretty,” he grunts, his helmet sliding along your cheek. “You're so— pretty.”

You mewl, warm water he can cup in his palm. His fingers work your clit until you seize, your body shattering. He does not relent when he feels the gush of warmth from your cunt, because he knows it isn't over. His gloved fingers, soaked with your wetness, make a squelching noise when they disappear inside your needy hole. You suck them in eagerly, your moan long and low as his palm drags against your too-sensitive clit. 

If it were any other person on the planet grasping at his cowl the way you do now, he would shoot off their fingers. But it is you, and you're just trying to hold on, to keep him close as he helps you through your sickness. He's stunned by the affection in your eyes, the reverence in your gaze despite the poison dancing atop your pretty skin. You want this as much as you always have. The circumstances are different, but it's you: the same woman he gets to indulge in. You're sweeter than the first breath of air when he finds solitude and takes off his helmet. You're the last gulp of freshness before he puts it back on. 

“Please,” you gasp, not sure what you're begging for. More of him, probably. 

He understands. His thumb rubs your clit until you come again. Your cry is delicious and clicking with saliva. “Easy,” he says softly as your hips buck against him, your body listing in pleasure before he steadies you. Always steadying you. “Take it easy.”

“Need more,” you gasp, your eyes falling to where his fingers pull out of you with an obscene sucking sound. “Din. Please.”

“Take me out,” he grunts. “Go on.”

You’re hasty and trembling in your rush to unbutton his pants, and it would be endearing if not for the constant reminder of the sweat on your brow, your skin that’s scalding to the touch. He's a firm and guiding hand. Always. He's there to catch you. 

You reach into his pants and pull out his cock, stiff and leaking. Spurts of precum stain the polished steel of his breastplate. Your mouth waters with the need to taste him but it's his hand squeezing your thigh that reminds you, through the haze of desire, that you need to take him. 

Clutching his cowl, you lift your hips and sink down on his cock. 

Din’s whole body jerks with the swiftness of your movement, how easily your hot, wet cunt sucks in his whole length in your desperation. He groans, cracked and high-pitched, bruising your hips with his thumbs. Your head falls forward at the first roll of your body, pressing yourself so tightly to him that your thighs tremble with the effort of holding yourself up. “Relax,” he whispers into your ear. The cold steel nudges your cheek to rest on him, and you do. 

Having his hard, twitching cock buried inside you is a balm to the fire licking your skin, but it isn't enough. You need to move, you need his fingers, you need him everywhere, all at once. It won't stop until—

You don't know. 

Maybe you will die here, knowing nothing but the need for him. But he's lifting his hand to your face and cupping your cheek, and you know he will not let it happen. 

“Hold onto me,” he says. 

What else can you do but obey?

He moves with your cunt still swallowing his cock, depositing you on your back on the floor, hard and cool and uncomfortable. The show of strength makes you whine his name. Din manhandles your thighs around his hips and shoves his cock so deep that the tip pummels your cervix. 

Your cry is sharp and tears are filling your eyes with the relief of having him buried inside you. Your fingers wrap around the bars of the grate on the floor as he establishes a rhythm, fucking you into the metal without a shred of mercy. It's exactly what you need. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” is vaguely what he hears from your mouth over the roar of blood in his ears. His eyes dip to where you connect. Your cunt seals around his thick cock, your slick leaking out around him and forcing filthy noises from your joined bodies with every smack of his hips into your thighs. 

“Din, oh, yes.” It’s bright and blinding when you say his name, your core tightening as your head tips back and your cunt clenches down around him. 

He doesn't once stop fucking you into the floor even when your orgasm wreaks havoc on your entire body. “Din!” you sob, grasping for his shoulders and failing, your hands falling back to the grate underneath you. 

Your chest is beautifully flushed, the colour returning to your skin, but you aren't finished. Neither is he. 

He pulls out only to turn you around, forcing you onto your hands and knees and swiftly sliding back inside your hot, tight cunt. “Nnnhh,” is the sound you hear through his modulator, rough and coarse as he fucks you from behind. You aren't much more articulate, but he's perfectly content to hear you moan in the shape of his name. 

His grip on your body is relentless, the pounding of his hips against like small shockwaves as he sucks the fever from your marrow. At some point, your hands slip, crashing onto your elbows. Your knees scrape against the grate and your body is shoved into the floor. You smell the tang of metal and your own arousal smearing against him. He tears another orgasm from your body without even touching your clit and continues to fuck you hard, your cum making it easier for him to slide inside you. 

Your throat clicks and your mouth will not close, a pleasure-touched frown perpetually creasing the space between your brows. Your eyes try to find his visor, but they slip to the back of your head when he grinds deep, the leaking head of his cock prodding your spongy front wall. 

“Din,” you croak, ruined even as your body still seeks him in your feverish need. “Wish… wish I could—”

“Me too.” His hand finds your shoulder blades, pushing down, pressing and insisting until your upper half lowers to the ground. Your cheek slides against the floor panels and it's humiliating and filthy, but it’s cool. Relieving. 

“Need…” You swallow around your groan, your hips wriggling in your need to be impossibly closer. “Need to come.”

You're so pliant and keen on this position, your cunt soaking him over and over as he bends you to satisfy the merciless demands your body gives you. It's working. So well, in fact, that he's so close to coming he can barely see through the blur of tears in his eyes. You look so beautiful, the shape of your body something made to be worshipped as your ass arches up toward him. Your hair is a mess and your body is rubbed raw from the wandering of his gloves. He gets to have you. It’s him, and no one else, who sees you like this… who makes you like this. 

“I know, cyar’ika. I know. You feel—ngh, you feel so good. My pretty girl.” He’s the only thing holding you up now, one strong arm snaking around your waist to rub your clit. “Give it to me. C’mon, save your life.”

You begin to shake from the overstimulation, your thighs squeezing together. Din shoves them apart with his own and bears down harder on your body, covering you with it as his fingers work you faster. You can't think, speak, see, hear. You can't do anything but reach blindly backward to hold onto something as you come harder than you knew was possible. 

Your fingers find his utility belt and hook into one of the loops, burying your face into your other arm. Din groans behind you, you think. You're clamping down on his cock with the force of your orgasm, gushing around him and sucking him in so deep he wouldn't dream of exiting your body. 

And he doesn't. His helmet is slick and cool between your shoulder blades as he makes a cacophony of raspy groans in your ear, his cock twitching and pulsing as he drowns your cunt in thick cum. It's that rush of liquid heat which finally douses the flames. Your body melts, your thighs so weak that even he cannot hope to hold them up. 

You both slip to the floor together, his arm shooting out to stop himself from crushing you. He rolls you into your side, his cock slipping out of you. He lands on his back, panting loud enough for the modulator to pick it up, and hastily tucks his spent cock into his pants. You hear the intermittent splatter of his cum onto the floor. Neither of you move, but he watches the gleam of sweat on your chest as it heaves. The haze in your eyes finally clears. 

“Cyar’ika.”

“Mmmmdin,” you mumble, your eyes closing. 

He holds your chin and turns your head to the side to look at him. “Give me your name.”

You tell him. 

“Now mine.”

Your blink is slow and sleepy. “Din Djarin.”

“Good.” He rests his forehead on yours, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “You're okay.”

You nod faintly. “I’m okay.”

You try to cling to consciousness by staring into his visor, picturing the eyes he's told you are brown. You picture his brown hair, you picture his mouth, and you picture it producing the sound of your name. Your body cools, the pressure uncoiling, the sweat dissolving. There's colour in your face and he can see the map in your irises again. He loves to trace the shapes inside them with his eyes. 

“I never thanked you.”

In your heavy-lidded, half-asleep daze, you draw shapes over his breastplate, where his heart is. “Hmm?”

His hand covers yours. “For saving my life.”

You manage to prop yourself up on your elbow and capture his visor in your gaze. “You should try things my way sometime,” you tell him with the wicked grin that he thinks about when he closes his eyes. “You always say to know when to shoot. I know when not to.” Your brows lift expectantly. “So tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“How grateful you are.”

Din chuckles, his helmet making a faint clank against the floor. “You're my hero.”

You roll your eyes and tuck yourself back into his side. “We’ll work on the attitude.”

[thechekhov]

Dungeon Meshi Quick Reacts: CH38

Rip to these promising mages. I assume they will not survive this massacre.

IS that where her lungs and kidneys are? Because like. She's huge. Her entire body is behind her. Do you really think she'd keep her vital organs in the little human bulb on the front?

I mean, he has a point. What are you going to do? Fight off more hoardes of dragons?

oh noooo, Kabru.... too bad. That's so unfortunate.... anyway.

It's curious that Laios only got knocked away. He was just as likely to have had his head squished like a grape.

Guys, this is absolutely not the time to be concerned for her privacy.

Yes, queen. Free the tiddy. Murder everyone in this dungeon. I support women's rights and women's wrongs.

.......that's. One way to do that. I guess.

.......what's that rock about.

Oh, I see. That's convenient.

This guy dungeons! Maybe he even dragons.

So we got north (tallmen? dwarves?) and then the easterners.... and now the elves of the west?

He's going to give her to the Americans?! ಠ_ಠ

To be fair, at least they HAD a plan. And they executed it. It's more than you did. I don't mean to point fingers but... at least they... ya know... did something.

Kabru's like 'no, no, hang on, I need to hear what batshit fucked up thing this dude is going to say next, this is important'

Laios is so stressed he broke character.

Then again, maybe it's healthy to let them slug it out a bit. Get it out of their system.

It's true. They wore fitbits and everything.

...hey, hold on a second.

Now hold on a minute.

Damn, this is. Kind of even worse because. I guess I could have guessed that Toshi was just pretending to be polite, like you do. Cultural differences.

But the painful thing is, Laios doesn't seem surprised. He just seems resigned. He's been told before that he's difficult to get along with. To the extent that he doesn't even consider Marcille and Chillchuck his friends? Even though they arguably both care about him? But because Toshiro didn't bother to be deadpan about him being a bit odd at times, Laios thought it meant that was fine.

And that kinda hurts. Like damn. Laios just wanted to make a true connection. And I can't really blame Toshiro either, he was just trying to keep the peace but. Damn.

Free her! Let her do her illegal magics! She deserves it! （︶^︶）

Thoughts:

Senshi just being annoyed about that one last harpy looking for scraps.... like "shoo, this ain't the time"

That gnome seems genuinely nice. I'm sorry Falin squished his pet undyne.

Kabru hugging his..... mage? Girlfriend???? Seems very...one sided. Kinda feel bad for her.

Laios and Toshiro still going at it, I see. Get it allout, boys.

Uhhhhhhhhhh ninja girls.

Aww, doggo.

Last question: Where did the cat go?

Senshi: I can fix that.

Are you all worried because he's finally making sense?!?!

Laios and he punched their singular braincells into several new ones, it seems.

F./....Falin... please give the caterpillar some privacy........

My man, maybe lead with that............

I can't believe Marcille was potentially more forward about her feelings.......

"his pupils are dilated" yes, thank you sherlock. You've finally realized what everyone else who meets Laios feels almost immediately. he's a monster freak club card carrying member. Welcome.

p.....pubby......

As long as he was also inside the dungeon with them.... yes.

The issue with Kabru isn't that he isn't trying his best. It's that Laios isn't trying at all.

On a scale of one to Kabru, how badly do you react to being offered a food you don't want to eat?

......oh no. He's so pathetic it's funny. He's growing on me.

Absolute morons, the pair of them. Immovable object meets unstoppable force. The funniest combination ever. Ghost type and normal type pokemon, forever throwing moves at each other that will never hit. Laios thinking he's made a friend. Kabru just barely stopping himself from killing Laios. Best comedy pair. Tom and Jerry in a can.

Anyway. What a great manga.

[f1bordeaux]

An Verstappen one with “Did you ever really care about me?” and “Please stay.” Thank you

If You Cared (Part 1) | mv1

It's been years since you've indulged in a vacation. What better time is there than summer? Your family, the beach house in Italy-it seems perfect. But, for things to be just like good old times, your family needs to invite his. So of course you are having mixed feelings as the boy who broke your heart re-enters your life like nothing happened. Warnings: None Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader Word count: 2.1k Poetry style | Story style A/n: Hello! This story came to me as soon as I saw this request. I got so many ideas and I'm actually super excited to keep writing this. There will be more parts to follow, so keep a look out. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy! Part One|Part Two|Part Three|Part Four|Part Five

You always longed for the familiarity of summer.

It was by far your favorite season. Something about the warmth, the life, the atmosphere, the memories-something about it all brought you comfort. You were head over heels in love with summer. Or perhaps it was just more exciting this year knowing that you would go on a real vacation for the first time in a long while. “Let’s visit the beach house this year,” your mom had suggested. “Sure there is probably some dust in the corners, but it’s nothing we can't sweep off.”

When thinking of summer memories, the beach house in Elba, Italy, was the primary setting for all of them. From the time you were born until the time you moved out, your family would spend a handful of weeks there, drinking up the sun and inviting friends to visit. You learnt to swim in the pool behind the summer house. You learnt to cook in the kitchen of the summer house. You had your first kiss in the living room of the summer house. Right, that. Something you preferred not to think or talk about.

“Mom!” you wrapped her in a hug the second you could. After moving away from home to pursue work, you rarely saw her in person. You rarely had time to cook yourself dinner let alone come home. It would be nice to get away for a month-just you, your mom, your dad, your brother and sister and the Italian shores of Elba.

“How was your flight, my baby?” She asked, pulling your backpack from off your shoulders.

“Which one? The one from New York to Florence or the one from Florence to Elba?” As a child you always made a fuss about how secluded Elba was. It’s a small, mountainous island off the west coast. A small airport, no larger than the biggest grocery store in town, was all they had to offer. They didn’t take commercial flights from New York. Nope, you had to get on a small, ten person airplane with five other people and fly over that way. It was nostalgic, truly.

Your mom rolled her eyes. “Still dramatic as ever.”

You shrugged, a smile stamped on your face. “What can I say?”

“Let's go, your dad is at home making dinner. It should be ready when we arrive.”

Your heart felt so full, so satisfied. You felt like a child again, like a little girl viewing the world from innocent eyes. Your mom was carrying your backpack, your dad was making dinner. You wondered if they’d offer to tuck you in at night. This is what you needed the most, and you didn’t even realize it until you were in the passenger seat of your mom’s rental car, watching the coast of the island roll by in the dimming sun. New York was busy. It was loud and dirty. Elba was quiet. It was beautiful and clean.

This summer, you told yourself. I’m not going to have a single worry, not a single care in the world.

“The Verstappen’s are coming by next week.”

You almost choked on your food. “What did he just say?” Dinner on the patio was already off to a ravishing start.

You don't notice it-too busy dabbing the corner of your mouth with a napkin-but your mother swatted at your brother who held a smirk on his lips. He knew it would bother you and he also knew that mom hadn’t told you yet. He loved being the bearer of bad news. He loved pestering his older sister.

“You know, Max’s family?” He pushed on. “The boy who left you for cars-”

“Luca.” Your mom cut him off. “Enough.”

Silence hung over the table like it was a light fixture. Your dad and sister said nothing and you knew it was because those two were in favor of the Verstappen’s coming to stay. Hell, your dad was probably the one to extend the invitation. You knew your sister would back him up because she loved Victoria-the younger sibling of the two Verstappen children. Your brother obviously didn’t care. He idolized Max and his racing. It seemed like your mother was the only one on your side.

“Was nobody going to tell me until Max knocked on our front door one day?” You asked, cutting at the food on your plate.

“Max probably won't even be able to make it,” your mother tries to reassure you. “The only ones who have confirmed it are Sophie and Victoria. Ooh-Victoria is bringing the babies so that should be fun-”

“Are you just trying to calm me down, mom?” Again, the silence made itself known. You spoke first, shaking your head with an upside down smile. “You know what? I don’t care. Max or not, I’m here to have a good summer. No childhood crush or-”

“Childhood boyfriend who broke your heart.” Your brother corrected you. You kicked him from under the table, exerting an ouch from him.

“No childhood drama is going to interfere.” You finished.

“She's gone crazy.” Your sister whispered to your dad. You kicked her too.

“I’m going to have a good summer. Nobody will ruin that for me.”

And in the beginning, you did have a good summer. You spent your first full day in Elba catching up on jet lag. When you finally decided to roll out of bed at two pm, you went to the beach with your sister. The two of you had a chance to catch up, sitting on the sand with a small array of fruits to eat while you spoke. The weather was perfect, the ocean was calming, and you were reminded of how much you loved your younger sister.

“What did you do for the big twenty-two?” You asked, referencing her birthday that had preceded about three weeks prior.

She shook her hand, the grapes in her palm shifting. She picked out a bruised one, adding it to a small pile of other undesirable fruits. “Went out with some friends. I had an exam due that day though, so most of it was spent in my room working on that.”

College. Something you tried your hardest to avoid. All was futile, though. After only a few weeks in New York you realized you’d need it. “Sounds fun. Were you mad you had to leave all your friends for the summer?”

“No,” She popped a grape in her mouth. “I was excited to come back to the beach house.”

“Me too.”

“Can I start a conversation without you getting mad at me, y/n?”

You sighed. “If you start by saying that, then no.”

“How are you going to react if Max really does show up on Monday?”

It was your turn to search through the handful of strawberries you had. One strawberry had a large hole. The rest looked fine, you thought. Max. Right, that's where the conversation was. Max Verstappen. Your first crush, your first kiss, your first-boyfriend? Was it ever that? Really, you didn’t know what it was and what it wasn’t. He was Max, and you were y/n. That was all the facts you knew surrounding the two of you.

“I’ll be nice. I have no reason not to be.” You finally responded.

Your sister peeled her sunglasses off her face. She looked at you amusingly through her brow. “No reason? Really?”

A shrug lifted your shoulders. “What? Max and I were never dating.”

“Sixteen-year-old you would say otherwise.”

“Sixteen year old me was delusional.” You looked at the ocean in front of you. You were just a delusional child, right? Max was your first kiss. Max was your biggest crush. Max did break your heart. It’s pretty damn hard to break someone's heart when you’re not together, no? “I don’t care about Max anymore. If he comes, he comes. If he doesn’t? Then so be it. I really don't care, Mia.”

“Alright,” She said dismissively. “I guess we’ll find out.”

The two of you wouldn’t find out for another five days. During your time-waiting for the possible arrival of Max and his mom and sister-you explored the city, you occupied the beaches, you read some books, you went out on the boat with your brother and dad. Life was calm. There were no obligations you had to fill, no tasks at hand, no work to be done. It was you, the Italian sun, the ocean and the breeze. You seriously considered moving there. Mom would let you have the beach house, right? How could she say no to the oldest?

All was good. All was calm.

“Max is here, y/n!” Luca swung open the patio door, yelling at you with a smirk. You were lying on a lounge chair next to your sister-the both of you only wearing swimsuits as you tried to tan. “He’s a fine specimen.”

You picked up your hat from the ground and threw it at your teenage brother. “Fuck off, Luca.”

“I’m serious! Max, Victoria and Sophie are here.”

You looked over at your sister. “Go inspect.” You instructed her.

She groaned, standing up from her chair and wandering inside, not before slapping Luca on the back of the head, however. The two of them shut the door, a waft of cold air swiping across your body before disappearing. There was soft music playing from a speaker near the pool. If a car pulled up, you wouldn’t have been able to hear it. Maybe they were here, but was Max seriously with them? Did you want him here? Would it actually be easier without him here or did you want some fun this summer? Did drama entertain you? Maybe you just wanted something nice to look at while you were here.

The back door slid open. You were lying face down, the sun warming your back. You didn’t bother looking up, assuming it was Mia coming to deliver the news to you. It would be better if she didn’t see your face while telling you. Maybe you would be disappointed at the answer-whatever it may be. “Well? Is he here?” You asked, voice muffled by the lounge chair.

“Is this your hat?”

You looked up so quickly that you pulled a muscle in your neck. “Fuck.” You whispered to yourself, rubbing your fingers over the pain. Did you curse to yourself because Max was standing right infront of you, your ball cap balancing off his index finger, or because of the pain? Both, you decided. It was for both reasons.

“I’ll leave it,” He set it on the table next to you. “Here.”

“Thanks.” You readjusted yourself, sitting up on the edge of the chair. He definitely got a much better view of you than he was hoping for. You were older now, almost by ten years. Sixteen year old you and twenty five year old you looked a lot different. He figured that out pretty quick.

“Good to see you, y/n.” He smiled before turning on his heel to go back inside. His back was broad, his shoulders looked stiff. He had some stubble, but it suited him. He looked-good? No. Stop thinking like that. He probably had a girlfriend or something. He was a rich, famous, Formula One driver. No way he was single walking around looking like that.

“Right.” Nobody was around to hear you say it. So, nobody was around to hear you follow it up with, “What the fuck.”

Hesitantly, you picked up your ball cap, slipping your ponytail through the back. You walked inside, scanning the room before making any more steps forward. Mia and Victoria were in the living room. Sure enough, Victoria had brought her two children and husband. Mia was emitting plenty of ‘aww’s’ and ‘that is so cute’s’. Max was bringing luggage in through the front door. Great, they're planning on staying. Your brother shot you a smirk from where he sat at the kitchen bar. Told ya’ so.

“Max, how’d you manage time off from F1?” Your mother asked.

“It’s summer break,” He said matter-of-factly. “I don’t race again until late August.”

“So you’ll be here for the three weeks you mother and sister will be?”

Please say no, please say no, please say- “I plan to, yes.”

The sliding door snaps behind you as you let go of it. Everyone turns to look at your bikini clad figure. Victoria exchanges a concerning glance with your sister. Victoria’s husband looks at her, confused as to why there is such a thick tension in the air.

“Y/n, go shower and get dressed, we’re all going to dinner in a bit.” Your mother said, her lips pressing into a thin smile.

“Right.” You said, weaving past all the bodies. “I’ll go do that.”

Oh what a summer this was playing out to be.

[pansear-doodles]

Separation of Tides

Rivulet: (I'm worried about mom… She hasn't been able to contact Five Pebbles…) (Why isn't he listening to her? Can't he see she's hurt?) (I don't understand…) … (Huh?) Hey! Are you a slugcat? … You don't look so well. Maybe mom can fix you up. … Moon: Bring them closer to me Ruffles. Rivulet: Are they a slugcat? Moon: Yes but… There are no records of their body’s blueprints. Nor is it reasonable to assume that extreme adaptations are possible through… natural means. …? What's this that they were holding in their bag? A… pearl? Rivulet: Was that… inside of them? Moon: Based on the giant scar on their chest and the strange biological attachments, it appears so. We will read it later, but right now we need to help your little friend of yours. They're in a critical state- I'll try my best to patch up their wounds. There. There. It'll be okay. You've come a long way. … Spearmaster: (Thank… You…) Moon: What is your title? Spearmaster: (I… I don't really have a title… But my colleague calls me Spearmaster.) Rivulet: Wah! Where is that voice coming from! Moon: Ruffles be nice! Spearmaster: (No it's okay.) (I'm able to talk thanks to wind manipulation via my spear holes.) (It's kinda quiet though…) (I was sent to your facility grounds to deliver a message to Five Pebbles by Seven Red Suns.) (The situation happening between you and him- info about it was spread throughout the local group. I was sent as a possible means to stop Five Pebbles from threatening you by delivering the-) (The pearl! Where is it?) Moon: It is right here. I've… read its content before you woke up. Spearmaster: (… I've been guarding this with my life to deliver it to you, because I don't know what to do.) (I thought that… once I deliver it… everything will go well as planned, just like what my creator would say before departing my home… But it didn't.) (…) Moon: I'm sorry. … I was not aware of the extent to which these affairs had reached the wider iterator populace. Nor was I aware of the lengths that the others were going in their attempts to get into contact with us. If only I could… … I do have one request. Brave messenger, do you mind if I rewrite the contents of this pearl? After all, it already served its original purpose. Spearmaster: (What will you do with it?) Moon: I will attach a broadcast key to it, signed with my communications serial. Spearmaster: (I'm alright with it.) … Rivulet: MOM! Mom please stay with me! Moon: Rrr r u f ffles I-I i. sorry sorry sorry … T-there. Please listen carefully Spearmaster. To the far west of here, past the silently towering chimney stacks of Five Pebbles' complex, you will find a place of sunbaked lands with beautiful flora that straddle the clouds. There is a communications array located there. It is the nearest one that may still be functioning. Its systems should recognize and respond to my signed broadcast key. If you could please stop there on your return trip to Seven Red Suns, I would be very grateful. This is my only hope to get a message out to the local group. Spearmaster: (So you have no answer to resolve with Five Pebbles?) Moon: …I'm afraid not. Spearmaster: (… Understood.) Rivulet: Mom? Mom! You're not leaving! Your structure is NOT going to erode! Moon: I'm sorry Ruffles. There's nothing I can do. Rivulet: Stop it! Stop saying these things! TELL ME YOU'RE GOING TO BE ALRIGHT! … [Continued in reblog/reply]

[staytinyville]

OUTLAW (31)

ATEEZ poly!ot8 x Reader

Cowboy AU / Wild West

Series Masterlist

Warning: none (There will be no masterlist in the next chapter. Read bottom note for more info)

A/N BETA READ (@mariana-mmtz).

You felt odd watching yourself in the mirror. You could remember putting on your mother’s wedding dress as a child and giggling to yourself about your dream husband. You had always thought you would find someone perfect to spend the rest of your life with. However, getting into your teens, you found yourself disliking the boys around you more than not. 

You had watched your classmates get married and start their own families, while you stayed to work in the hotel. You didn’t regret that part of your life. The regret was for not allowing yourself to find more things outside your own family. But now you have the boys in front of you, holding their hands out for you to take and lead you towards where you deserve to be. 

“I never thought I would see the day you would get to wear this dress.” You turned around, facing your mother who was smiling brightly, eyes glassy. 

“Did you have no hope for me to get married?” You laughed, feeling your breath get caught in your throat. 

You knew where this entire thing was heading, but that still didn’t make it any less emotional. You were going to leave your childhood home and follow your path–alone. 

“I thought (S/N) would get married before you.” She laughed. “But that's not the case here.” She pressed her lips together, looking down to the floor. “(Y/N), are you sure this is what you want? I know you're only doing this because of us sending you away, but we won't do that anymore-” She told you.

“Mom, I want to do this.” You stopped her. “More than anything. If this is where I have to go, then I'm more than happy to take it.” 

She might have not known what it was you were feeling over the whole ordeal, but she could tell this was where you had your mind set to. And when you had your thoughts in order and knew what you were going to, you were going to see it through. She had been the one who gave birth to you and held you in her womb. She was going to make sure you had everything you wanted.

“Let's get going then.” She took your hands, pulling you along to walk out the house. 

(S/N) was beaming at the door, holding onto a parasol. Her shoulders raised as she tried her hardest not to cry. You could feel your eyes start to sting, but you tried not to let it get to you. You took the parasol, picking up your skirts to walk out the front door. 

Your brother was helping your littlest one fix his shoes while your father watched over them. When they heard you all step out, they quickly turned. Your dad sucked in a breath, as you came out into the sunlight. 

“Dad.” You bowed your head at him. 

“(Y/N), you look just as beautiful as your mother had when we got married.” You watched as tears welled up in his eyes. 

“Thank you.” You whispered out. 

“I'm sorry.” He cried, sobbing as he pulled you into a hug. “I'm-I'm so sorry I said those things to you. Please forgive me. I can't allow you to leave thinking I meant those horrible things.” His grip tightened as his tears began to stain the dress. 

You patted him on the back, hugging him as well.” I know.” You spoke, pushing him back lightly. “Even if I am leaving, you're still my dad and I will always love you. You gave me everything I could've asked for.”

With everyone drying off their tears, you were all led to the wagon. Your family made their way towards the city hall, where you would sign the marriage certificate in front of the judge. Your hands become sweaty inside your lace gloves, fingers clenching and unclenching in fists. 

Your throat suddenly became dry the moment you saw a group of people waiting outside the city hall. They were laughing loudly, shoving at Yeosang who stood in the middle of them all. A smile quickly found itself on your face, tears building up in your eyes once more, when you took in how handsome they all looked in their nice suits. 

Your father helped you down from the wagon, holding onto your hand. As you dropped onto the ground the boys all stopped to stare at you. You turned around to find why they had all gone quiet, blushing when you realized they had their attention on you. 

With a deep breath, you walked up to them. They, too, began to blush, which prompted them to tease one another. Their laughs brought joy to your very being, which made you giddy. You looked over at Yeosang who gave you a soft smile. 

“You look stunning.” He told you. You giggled to hide your blush. 

“I've only known you for a few months, but I know you're a nice boy.” Your father came up behind you, patting Yeosang on the back. “Please take care of my, (Y/N).”

“With my life.” Yeosang answered, keeping his eyes on you. 

You took a glance at the others, catching sight of the same smile they all shared. You knew they were all thinking the same thing. It was obvious how much this meant to all of them, even if you were technically only marrying Yeosang. 

You noticed how your parents looked at the seven other boys oddly, but didn’t question it as they noticed how Yeosang was speaking with them. It was clear that they had known each other. Your parents walked in first, followed by your siblings. 

“You look absolutely gorgeous.” Wooyoung grinned, as he passed you. 

“Wish it was me.” Seonghwa teased, giving your chin a flick.

“Good luck.” Yunho laughed, patting your head. 

“Yeosang isn’t the worst of us.” Jongho rolled his eyes, following behind Yunho.

“I’ve never been this close to other people in a long while.” Mingi fidgeted with the clothes you had given both him and Hongjoong to blend in. 

“You look dashing.” San patted Mingi, pushing him into the building. 

“This is going to be the rest of your life. It’s not too late to walk out.” Hongjoong had his hands inside his pockets. “We won’t make you.”

You turned as Yeosang walked up next to you, taking your hand in his. The others were watching from the door, waiting for the rest of you. Your lips slowly grew as you looked over all of them. 

“I think I’m good with that.” You gave Yeosang a squeeze of his hand. 

The ceremony itself wasn’t anything overly extravagant. The town Judge, Thomas Quiad, reverend and handed you two a feathered pen to sign the certificate. Your hand was shaking, but you managed to get a legible signature down. Yeosang was no better than you. 

As he pulled up from the table, he turned back to you. You wanted to laugh at the smile he had. It was official.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Quaid gave you a smile. “You may kiss the bride.”

Your eyes went wide, which prompted Yeosang to laugh out loud. But he softly leaned down, giving you a simple kiss. Things were much different this time around. You had an audience, which made you shy. Even if you had already kissed half of them, you were still getting used to it all. 

As Yeosang pulled back, the others began to cheer loudly. You blushed deeply again, laughing. Yeosang chuckled, holding up your intertwined hands. The both of you began to walk towards everyone, the group making their way outside to allow room for others. 

“How about you all come to dinner with us?” Your mother smiled, looking at all the boys. “We'd love to meet all of Yeosang's-”

“Brothers.” You told her. “They are brothers.”

She looked at you with raised eyebrows but nodded anyway. “Of course.” Your mother bowed her head. 

The boys looked at one another bashfully, shaking their head at the idea of a meal cooked by someone else that wasn’t them. So that was where you found them all sitting around your family table. They had to bring in other chairs seeing as there was only 6 at the table and 8 of them, but they made it work. 

They were so polite, complimenting your parents on what they had done. Your mother blushed with how they kept telling her she had made amazing food. Wooyoung and Seonghwa even asked for the recipe. Your father laughed along with them as well as they expressed their thoughts on something around the house. 

Things felt so right with how everything was going. 

“I didn’t know you were friends with the officers.” Your father spoke to Yeosang.

“Yes, Seonghwa and I became good friends with them while working in the hotel.” He answered. 

“So, how did you all meet? If you don’t mind me asking.” Your father asked, turning to the other boys. 

“Not at all.” Hongjoong answered.  

You turned to him as well, listening in to what he had to say. You had already known some of their backstory, but it wasn’t enough to say you knew them. It might seem stupid to get involved with them when you didn’t know everything, but that’s how you made friends. Someone doesn’t start with knowing everything. 

“We met when we were teens. We all have had our troubles, but we came together because we all shared a love for music.” Hongjoong explained. 

“Music?” Your mother spoke up. “I would have never guessed.”

“We don’t exactly look like we would have studied it. Do we?” Yunho got a laugh from your family. 

“No offense.” Your father added. 

“None taken.” Hongjoong waved him off. “It's just something we all look towards for inspiration and motivation to keep going.”

“Do you all live together?” Your mother looked between all of them. 

“Yes, we have a home in Aurora, but we are traveling in the meantime.” Wooyoung grinned, bouncing your brother in his lap. “We met (Y/N) and decided to stay for a bit longer.”

“Yeosang met (Y/N).” San quickly spoke up. 

“He forced us to stay.” Seonghwa laughed. 

“Oh, so you will be leaving again?” You looked over to your parents, seeing their worried expression on you. 

You hadn’t thought about that aspect. At least not to where they were going to take you to their actual home in Aurora. You thought you were just going to be exploring or the likes. Even causing some trouble here and there. But to actually live with them in the place they have shared since they were teens?

“Ah, that’s up to Yeosang.” Hongjoong gave the man a look. 

“I have all my family in Aurora.” Yeosang spoke up. “I don’t want to take your daughter from you, but I would like for her to meet them one day.”

“Of course!” Your mother nodded her head. “I’m sure any parent would like to meet the person their child is marrying.”

You silently thought to yourself about meeting Yeosang’s parents. It seemed as though he had left his family on bad terms from what he told you a while back. You didn’t want to assume you would be meeting them at one point–maybe he had told your family that for them to not worry about where they would be taking you.

Looking over at the rest of the boys, you began to wonder what their family was like. None of them spoke about their parents or even siblings, so sometimes you wondered if they even had them. You figured they did with how well-mannered they were. Someone had to teach them. 

But you figured with how much they spent together, their family was each other. There was no need to be born from the same person, all they needed was the love they had for one another. You began to smile as you thought about the rest of your life with them. You wanted to have what they did.  And hopefully you can now. 

Series Masterlist

UPDATE. Due to the nature of the next chapter there will be no taglist. Scheduled Update will be November 2 at 6:00 PM (CST)

@thefrog3223 , @iarayara , @0rangemilk , @explorewithd , @detectivedoodle , @bangtanxberm , @a1i33a , @loveforred , @drunken-deitence , @0325tiny , @the-ghostest-with-the-mostest , @atinyreads , @atinytinaa , @lexiigom , @smilingtokki , @mismatchfluffysocks , @brain-empty-only-draken , @sousydive , @alex-tinyyy , @h3arteyes4mingi , @onedumbho3 , @popcatx0 , @blue1amory , @mommahwa1117 , @sunnyhokyu , @cloudieclair , @araknoid , @starjoongi1117 , @chel-awingcherry , @puppyminnnie ,

[sunnysidestories]

Introductions Pt 2

Pt 1

Summary: Reader is a vigilante on young justice who goes to the same school as Walls. Only Wally doesn't know the readers identity, but she knows his. SLOW BURN

Wally West x Fem!Reader

"Hi, I'm Wally West. It's nice to meet you."

As his voice rang in my ears, and he seemed to look back at his book, my heart would begin to race. I sat there for a moment too long, so I quickly would pick up my own voice, even if it cracked. "I'm y/n l/n. It's nice to meet you too." He doesn't know. He can't know.

Wally would once again look back up from the textbook, his eyes seeming to scan along my face. "You're not new. I know you." shit. "Well, I just changed classes, not schools. I've been at Keystone my whole life. I'm just not the most popular person."

"Oh cool, I hope you like the advanced course. If you ever need any help I'll gladly give you my number. Science is one of the only things I seem to be good at." he genuinely doesn't know? I'm glad, at least this is my chance. Let's find out who Kid Flash is under all the spandex.

He's a nerd. He's a total nerd.

Often, before class, I would find myself in a conversation about the latest scientific fact, most of them being obscure. He seemed to always speak with his hands, a grin never leaving his face. I found out his uncle is a forensic chemist, which helps explain his passion for all things scientific. Even if he didn't outwardly say it, I could tell he meant a lot to him. But when the class would eventually begin, Wally would totally shut off the conversation, rarely continuing it over a note. He took the class very seriously.

He's not exactly how I would have expected him to be. Compared to how he is as Kid Flash, he's much more sporadic. He seems to always lead a conversation, which I don't always mind, but when he asked me about what I liked one time, he didn't interrupt. He let me rant for a while before I realized what I was doing, though he only encouraged me to go on with a smile.

...

"So that's why I've got to go to Central City for the week." Wally lied about some other excuse for a mission. It felt wrong knowing he's really going to fight crime. I have no room to talk, really. I'll be busy at Keystone myself. I wonder how much of it is actually a lie and how much is really fact.

"It's fine, I understand it's not your fault, but i'll miss you." Wally seemed to avoid eye contact almost if my comment had made him uncomfortable. I was telling the truth though, I would miss him. Even more than I would like to admit. I didn't pressure him about it further as the class went on.

But when it was time for us to take notes from the textbook, and the whole class was sent on their own, Wally would slide me a folded piece of notebook paper. He didn't even look at me, so if any outside eyes had seen the exchange, it would look as if he was returning something of mine. I would quietly open the slip to be greeted by Wally's hastily written writing.

Hey, text me the work I'll miss next week

My eyes scanned the page only to land on his number at the bottom. He could just get it from the teacher, but the fact he trusted me enough with his perfect grade was flattering. Wally's handwriting is another one of those things I didn't think would differ from note to note. Ones he had the time to write at home are always much neater, though his handwriting is much bigger than normal standards would accept, I don't mind. The notes he writes me at school are always messy, almost like he's trying to write faster than he can but doesn't want to use his speed, so in the end, it's just much slopper. If one didn't know Wally, they could rightfully assume the contrast between his writing could be the work of two different people.

Sure, but is it just for the notes right?

I would put in my own words under his before slipping it back to him. He would immediately slide it back into my hands. I didn't even think he wrote anything until I opened it again. This time, his handwriting was perfectly placed, almost as if it was typed.

Yes.

I tuck the paper in my jacket pocket, I'll put it in my drawer with the rest when I get home. I feel bad about throwing them away, so they sit in my bedside table, its not like anyone would ever go into my room and find them anyway. Sometimes, I like to read over them before I go on patrol. It reminds me of our conversation at the warehouse. One where I'm not as alone as I think I am.

Yet the nervous tapping of Wally's pencil brings me back to the class. He taps it ten times before flipping the pencil back over, continuing to write. No matter what, he seemed to always tap it ten times. In a way, it felt like he knew I zoned off. It was him bringing me back to everything. Even if it wasn't intentional. Wally fidgets a lot when he tries to focus or distract himself, the repetitive movements being a form of comfort.

...

It's Tuesday now, and I'm perched on top of a building in full gear. My phone sits in my hand with Wally's contact staring back at me. I need to text him the work from yesterday. I haven't even said hello yet. Hello is too formal, we are friends, a hey would fit better.

These past two days have been abnormally quiet. His empty seat in class is only a reminder of why he's really gone. I hope he's okay.

FLEETFEET

Hey, it's y/n. Here's the work from yesterday and today. Hope everything is okay in CC

2 attachments  sent 11:20 pm

I would sit there for a bit, looking at the screen. Maybe he's already on some sort of mission. Why is texting so stressful? As soon as I started to shut off my phone, it would light back up with his reply.

FLEETFEET

2 attachments seen 11:27 pm

Hey y/n! Central City has

been pretty cool, my Uncle Barry

showed me around his work at Star Labs today. That place is surprisingly

really huge. Thanks for sending

the work.

Seen 11:27 pm

Sooooo wyd?

Seen 11:28 pm

Its almost midnight, he should really go to sleep. I should really start patrol. This really isn't a good idea.

Nothing much hbu? just watching

traffic go by. I swear I've seen three

crashes in the span of two

hours ppl r wild.

Seen 11:31 pm

Dude you should see it here.

Traffic is actually so slow it

makes me want

to scream. We sat at a

red light for 4 whole mins.

Seen 11:31 pm

Oh. My. God. 4 whole mins?!1!

How can they do that to you!

Don't they know who you are!!!

Seen 11:33 pm

The hottest guy alive thats who.

Seen 11:34

I couldn't help but laugh at his statement. Typing back a quick 'pls lol' before turning off my phone. It was getting too late I needed to start. I wish he was here, sometimes I could get a glance of the yellow and red highlight speeding by back home, on this road, about this time. He never worked late at night. That was more left up for the other heros, ones like me. I look to the streets, the dim lights from the lamps only shone back with a faint glow. No streak of color to be seen, but a part of me hoped it would still apear.

My night was full of stopping petty crimes, luckily I didn't have to go against any metahumans, but still like any other night everything would start to hurt after a certain threshold. Inbeetween threats I would find myself checking to see if Wally had kept our conversation going.

He did.

Until 4 am.

He was asking me mostly about myself, which was weird in a way. But in another, it made sense. The questions were more deep then anything since he already had asked the basic getting to know each other questions months ago. In the end, though, he stopped the conversation telling me to head to sleep, as I had school in the morning. Which was true. Even after patrol, I was still texting him from the comfort of my home, but I would eventually listen, heading to get some rest.

The week would continue the same as the night before. I was sending Wally the work and him dragging on our conversation throughout the night, but never long enough for the sun to rise the next day. On Saturday was when one of his messages caught me by surprise.

FLEETFEET

Are you free to call?

Seen 1:12 am

Before I could even protest how that could be a bad idea or how that might reveal who I was, his contact was flashing onto my screen along with his picture. I place the phone to my ear and answer it. I hoped the interstate couldn't be audible up from here.

"I told you shes not going to- hey! Hey..."

Wally's voice picks up on the other line, he seems to be in some sort of living room, as the hum of a television can be heard in the background as well as someone else having a conversation.

"Hey Walls? What's up?" My voice sounded strained from not speaking for hours, I hoped Wally couldn't tell. "Oh, um, I was just wondering about some of the work you sent me. Like you took the photos of the work perfectly okay, but in the background, I saw something." At the word something, his voice would slightly jump.

Did I leave my equipment in a photo? was my reflection shown? Was it something he wasn't supposed to see?

"Yeah It's-It's going to sound really stupid. What... what were those papers spread out on your bed?" Oh. Ohhhhh no. The notes, I left out his notes on my bed. I must have got some of them into the frame. I quickly opened out a chat to the last photo. There they were. Luckily, they were not in focus, so he couldn't really tell what they said, but still. There they were.

His voice would start up again after my second of silence. "Are they really swamping you with that much work?" "Yeah, yeah. My other class, a big final its uh its is coming up, so I was studying the notes." I let out a sigh of relief. "But that's not your handwriting? It actually kind of looks like-"

"Wally, I have to go. I'll see you Monday at school."

*BEEP BEEP BEEP*

That was terrible. He would never let me live that down if I told him I was keeping such things. That even more was embarrassing, I have to explain why I had to go. And I have until Monday for these excuses. Which is technically tomorrow. Fun.

...

I was saved. I got called into a mission before school at Mt. Justice. Even though Wally would be there, y/n technically wouldn't. When I arrived, he was already in costume talking to Megan about something. He still did the thing with his hands while he spoke. Making his statements larger than life and thoroughly exaggerated. "I just don't know what to do. I trust her more than anything, I wish she would just tell me. It's not like im going to judge her. She knows that. I mean, you heard the conversation. "

His back was turned to me, so I couldn't see his face while he went on. Although I knew what he was talking about. "Hey Megan. Hey Wally." I waved at the two while I walked past them to the kitchen. "H/n! You're a girl. I need advice. What do I do when my friend is keeping stuff from me." I would stop and slowly turn around to his pleading gaze. "Walls, aren't you keeping stuff from her? You have to trust her in that sort of regard. Give her time to open up."

"Thats...Fair." Wally would drop himself back to normal as my words got through to him. "Besides, it took me a while to realize I trusted you." Both in and out of costume. I do. I trust him more than anything. More than anyone.

So I should have told him. He said he wasn't going to judge me, and I know he wouldn't have. I let my emotions get the better of me at the moment, If he asks again, I'll tell him the truth. No matter what.

...

The mission went by with a breeze, the biggest threat being now as Robin sent Wally falling towards me at full speed. I ended up catching the both of us before he could send us tumbling over a building. I held us there for a while, my arms wrapped around him in a hug. He just looked at me. His heightened breathing trailed my neck as he grasped onto my arms. He didn't admit it, but he was scared, I was too. Fifteen stories were a lot to fall from.

The other heroes, as well as criminals, paid us no attention, too occupied in their own fights, as I held Wally at the edge of the roof. One of my feet hanging halfway off. I was closer to falling than he was. My back was to the city.

"Hey, h/n." Was all he said as his face began to knowticablely regain too much color. "Hey West." Wally would move his head to rest in the crook of my neck as he tried to calm his rapid breathing. He told me late at night over text one time he was scared of heights.

As I started to try to move us back away from the edge, Wally would only plant himself in my hold even more. I needed to help him snap back into the situation. Before he messed up and tipped us over.

"Wally. You've never asked me who I am before." Trust. He needs to trust me. "Be...Bec..Cause! You're not comfortable... ye-yet."  Inbeetween words, he would let out large audible gasping. "You won't judge me, right?" He shook his head side to side, keeping his eyes remained shut. I would let out a sigh of my own.

"I trust you. Kid Flash, I need you to trust me. Not only as h/n but as y/n. y/n l/n. The one who's going to get you off this roof. Back to the ground floor."

[imaginechb]

Long Distance w/ Connor Stoll

Aka I'm back on my Connor shit™️ and now you all have to deal with it ❤️

You started dating over the summer, knowing that you'll have to spend the school year apart, but not really caring. You really liked each other, and no one back home could compare with him. No one could relate to you and care for you on the level that he could, no one had those experiences with you.

On the day you have to go back to your hometown, you pack all your things up in your cabin, your siblings either doing the same or keeping each other company.

Connor appears in the doorway and everyone else exchanges looks before clearing out. You turn to him, tears in your eyes that you don't want to let fall, but you can't help it. He opens his arms and you break, falling into him.

You stay there for a bit, holding each other, letting tears fall, before finally letting each other go. He helps you finish packing and walks you out of the cabin.

The rest of the day is spent laying in the strawberry fields in the late summer sun, playing volleyball with friends, and eating meals together rather than at your respective tables.

When it's time to go, he gives you one last emotional hug and a long kiss, before watching you go, a helpless expression on his face as he turns away.

NOW. while you're gone, he sends you letters. Updates on what's been happening with him and the camp, love letters, he writes down playlists for you.

He misses you so bad, he definitely mopes for a while after you leave, until people kinda tell him to get it together.

Sometimes he sends you care packages with things you might need or want; ambrosia in case of monster attacks, your favorite candies, his favorite hoodie, a cd he burned in Chiron's office while he was away

For your birthday (if it's during the school year), he mailed you cupcakes he and Travis made... they weren't exactly edible when they arrived (or when they were made), but it's the thought that counts, right? He also sent you a bracelet he made you (you'd taught him how), another one of his hoodies, and a necklace that you didn't want to know the origins of for legal reasons.

As for you, it had taken a while to adjust back to the mortal world without Connor. Seeing friends at school was nice, but still lonely without him. They were good friends, but they'd never know you and understand you like your friends at camp would. They were mostly just to keep from being alone the rest of the year while waiting for summer's return.

You listen to the playlists and cds he sent you every night to fall asleep, on your walk home from school, when you miss him. You have it memorized from start to finish at this point.

You wear his hoodies to school and to sleep at night to the point where they need washed, which you don't want to do because they smell like him, but it has to be done 😔

Luckily, that's around the time that he sends another one :D

You send him letters and packages of things from the mortal world, candies that he'd never tried, little stickers and pins from places you go, cds, you even return his hoodies to him occasionally.

He comes to stay with you and your family around your winter break (your family was a little unsure about him at first but ended up absolutely adoring him), and you go to camp during spring break so you guys can spend time together.

YOU GUYS PLAY SILLY LITTLE GAMES LIKE TIC TAC TOE THROUGH THE MAIL OMGS

Iris-messaging whenever you can. Sometimes it's hard because he's busy with training and activities at camp, and you've got school and maybe even a job taking up your time, but you manage at least once or twice a week.

Also depending on where you live, time zones may or may not be a thing. If you live on the west coast, there's a three hour time difference between you, which doesn't sound like a lot, but it is. You could be getting home from school when he's eating dinner, and by the time you finish up your homework and dinner, he's at the campfire and going to bed.

But you guys make each other a priority, you wouldn't do anything else

Because at the end of the day, it can be hard, and you might miss each other a lot, but you're also demigods in love. What you have is unshakable, it's not going anywhere, even if you do.