#literally just stumbled across it just now it's only a few days old

[storfulsten]

brooo this is fire what the heck

dope as hell whitty song letsgooo

[comfortless]

syl. *grabs you and shakes you* syl. i woke up in a cold sweat thinking of like… könig. already off to a great start ik. but space opera könig. (not like star wars or anything) but think like 70s aesthetics all bright and colorful. he’s a bandit in a stolen ship, formerly part of a military group making peace with other planets but something went awry and he’s just having fun now!

reader is part of a small research group that has landed on a planet he’s camped out on and he’s just like “ok” followed by “i want that”. steals all of her supplies and then her. doesn’t care how much she protests when he just hauls her over his shoulder, pats her butt bc he thinks THATS going to calm her down and throws her into his ship.

she’s happy he’s not some creepy alien but at the same time who really knows what’s under that hood anyway hmmmm and she wants to hate him but also all that’s playing in her head is that one rah band song. messages from the stars lmao please. there is something in the way you write that is so special to me and if you were to come up with a full blown story for my dumb idea i think i would scream for 20 hours straight.

lil wisp….. you have no idea what this has done to me. i am going to be thinking about this for an eternity. let’s cook.. i see your vision and i would love nothing more than this too!!

content/warnings: implied violence, abduction, dubcon groping?

König’s been on his own, drifting through the stars for so long. Only raiding the ships he comes across for food, supplies, and when he stumbles across a mechanic he puts them to work with a silly laser rifle pointed right at their head (because let’s face it— when you’re a wanted space pirate who in the universe is going to fix your ship for you??). He’s put all of human etiquette far behind him, and now his life is quite literally just one relentless adventure. He wouldn’t have it any other way!

That is, until his ship is fucked up again, displaying about thirty bright red warnings on its silly hologram screens that he just can not make sense of. The thing is old, has been shot at more times than even he can count, and it’s finally failing him if the loud sputtering and incessant orbital beeps are anything to go by. He considers his luck has run out when he lands the damned thing on some hunk of rock out on the outskirts of a galaxy most don’t even bother with, because there’s nothing out here.

Thankfully, his frustration is short-lived because a smaller ship lands only a few days later; painted in the bright, pearlescent blues and pinks of your standard peace-keeping, research vessel. It’s the perfect craft to steal and it wouldn’t even be difficult… the three humans that exit are so much smaller than him and entirely unguarded. They’re just here to study a few minerals, maybe haul some back to their little camp a few worlds over for fuel and research. He won’t even get into too much trouble for it, he thinks, because even his trashed ship could take them back home. See!! He isn’t all that bad…

At least, until he notices her, bent over admiring some silly, little cluster of crystals in her skin-tight jumpsuit that makes him see stars. The heavy boots that rise up to her knees making her look like little more than a fauness, and she’s so pretty he just can’t help but get a closer look while her teammates are off chittering away and exploring the nothing planet.

She isn’t even afraid of him when he approaches. Just straightens up with her hands clasped in front of her and a smile on her face. She hasn’t seen the holograms of him, displaying a sizable bounty for his veiled head, doesn’t take a wary note of the massive rifle he has slung over his shoulder; she just sees another person. He hasn’t been looked at like that since long before he left home!!

This sweet woman has no sense of self-preservation either, because she immediately asks him if he needs food or water; gestures over to her brightly colored ship with that pretty smile ever-present on her face, and that’s all it takes for him to decide that not only is he taking the craft, he’s taking her too.

He doesn’t say a word when he lifts her up over his shoulder, and the poor thing must be shocked because it takes her a moment before she starts squirming in his grip. König does well to remove the little radio strapped to her hip, giving her ass a firm squeeze in the process before tossing it in the dust behind him. That’s all it takes to shut his little prinzessin up before he hauls her back into her ship and demands she turn off any tracking systems. Her knees are a bit weak when she fumbles with the control panels, and he’s unashamed of his own erection when he slides in behind her to lean over the console as the ship starts up.

She whines about leaving her friends stranded, of course, but he’s in a world of his own when he grabs her by the hips and seats her in his lap while she pilots. Never mind the others, he’ll take good care of her, honest!!

[n3ptoonz]

hellooo it's okay if you choose not to write this!! but like im going thru it rn & was thinking how would the mk men be with someone who thrives off of being validated? i'm thinking raiden, kung lao, smoke, but anyone else you want too! kinda like some fluffy pick me up content :(

ofc i can do this, seems easy enough and i hope you're doing alright anon <3 if not at the moment, this feeling won't last forever!

mk1 hcs: how raiden, kung lao, smoke, and rain give praise/validation to their s/o

no warnings just fluff, more bullet points than usual since i'm doing four characters (and writing for them har har har) i use praise and validation interchangeably here if that's okay

hope this is good!

Raiden

raiden is almost always giving you praise and validation for just about anything

your skill, how well you cook, if you don't cook how well you help him out, to even how well your cleaning is

a swift "wow, you're amazing" "do i tell you i love you enough?" "how did you do that? impressive!" are in order whenever he deems fit (literally all the time)

don't let him find out you're down about something, because you're not leaving this house until he sees that smile

he holds you close more often and whispers cute things to you. some jokes, some things are more personal/targeted comments of validation

"you do know that i love you, right?" "you're the best thing to happen to me." "whatever has you down, we're in this together."

don't be surprised when you wake up one day and there's baskets full of freshly picked fruit on the dining table too. he hates to see you frown, so he does everything in his power to hear your laughter again

Kung Lao

as much as he loves receiving validation and being told he's the best at any given moment, he loves giving it too

for him it's usually on occasions where he really means every single word he's saying. like if you were to finally get a move you've been trying for like a week, he's your number one cheerleader

"i saw that out there, you're doing so well!" "shit, where'd you learn that from?! teach me!" "i am so proud of you"

if you're down, he's dropping everything to be by your side, if he can. whatever plagues your mind is an enemy of his now

he holds your hand(s) and is surprisingly very patient with you. well, is it really surprising when he professes his love for you every chance he gets?

"i'm here for you, love" "whenever you're ready, i'm always listening" "do i need to beat anybody's ass? just say the word."

he would also bring fruit (yes, he stole raiden's idea) and offer to train with you more for comfort or to tease you to take your mind off things (code word for endless flirting)

Smoke

when it comes to tomas, contrary to the popular belief of him being a smug thug that beats up old ladies, he's from shy boy city. population: him

on both ends he doesn't know how to react/isn't that good at giving praise. he'll either stumble over his words or do something else to show you he cares. it's really only when it comes to you cause he has to be confident around everybody else

he'll give an enthusiastic thumbs up from across the room, walk past you and whisper "great job!", or wait until it's just you two in the room so he can pepper your face with kisses (i need him so bad)

but hold up...you're feeling down? nah, that simply won't do. his shyness is gone and he's a little too ready to bring someone's head as a treasure if someone hurt you

"are you alright? i've got your back." "i would do anything for you" "i love you so much, don't forget that."

he would try his best efforts to spend more time with you and do more things around the house. hell, if he really had it his way you would never lift a finger ever again

Rain

rain is a man of few words. the way he operates is he doesn't really feel the need to keep saying the same thing over and over again, but that changed with you

now it wasn't a huge change, but he definitely had no opposition to letting you know when he noticed you, and he knows you'd do the same if not more

"i like what you did there, keep it up" "how did i get so lucky?" "you make me great at what i do"

he finds out you don't feel too hot? prepare to know what royalty feels like, because that's how he's going to treat you. technically you have a walking water-cooler at all times, so now you're definitely never doing anything yourself again

"i've got it taken care of, don't you worry about a thing" "your wish is my command." "if someone did something to you, they will regret it. i promise."

behind that calm and cool demeanor he was lowkey freaking out because he doesn't like seeing you down. he'd offer to make all types of natural medicines or potions, and when you tell him you just need him around, he's fine with putting work off until you feel better

a/n: i found out a few weeks ago charles from rdr and rain mk1 share the same va. i KNEW he sounded familiar mm mm mm

[gretavanlace]

Sugar II (part 2)

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: language, angst, Josh is perfect, angst, also maybe some angst

I’m so happy that you are all enjoying Sugar 2.0 as much as I am! I’ve missed this little world so much and it just makes me smile to know that you missed it too ❤️

Curled up into a tight ball under hotel room sheets, your mascara smudges across and stains the bleach-white pillowcases. And you might feel a little guilty about that if you could form a halfway coherent thought.

You’d expected a coworker, also dragged into town for this god forsaken conference, when you’d heard your name skittering across the marbled lobby floors. Turning to find Daniel, dripping in Greek God beauty and memories, had stolen the air from your lungs.

Quite literally, you had found it impossible to breathe for a few panicky moments as your eyes darted around in search of those that might be tagging along with him.

The warm, nostalgic feeling of stumbling across an old, dear friend had been overshadowed and twisted by fear…and a horrible, throbbing sadness; there was a time when this was your life…the last time anything had made any sense.

The overwhelming urge to sob in his arms had left you aching when he’d pulled you in for a bear hug. Somehow, his being so near had made home feel that much further away.

Take me to him. You’d wanted to beg Danny, clinging to his sturdy frame.

Now, you just want to run. To pack up your things in a hurry and flee the building as if it were engulfed in flames. You wish you were shoving your bag into an overhead compartment on a plane bound for anywhere that isn’t here.

This is too close. They are too close.

Three years it’s been, and he is still the first thing that weighs like sand on your mind when your eyes blink open in the morning…and your very last thought before they drift closed at night.

Has it really been three years? It doesn’t seem possible.

You think of Josh, too. Of course you do. But it is with a distant fondness for what you had. He is a pretty memory. A good memory. One you can recall easily, and with wistful affection. You can speak of him readily, with gentle sentiment. It was a great thing you had, and now it is no longer. Simple.

Jake.

You try so hard not to think of Jake, but he’s there all the time anyway. Cozied up inside your head like he owns the place, no matter how many times you’ve ordered him to vacate. He always was stubborn, and his memory has proven no different. There is a hole in your soul shaped exactly like him. Hardly a blip of light in your eyes; you left most of it there with him all those moons ago.

You could so easily satiate your searing need in some minuscule manner, via YouTube interviews, balcony seats at shows where you would stand no chance of being spotted. The wails of his guitar could pour from your speakers and right into your chest whenever it feels too hollow. You could fall asleep to samplings of his velveteen voice, rasping answers to questions floated from radio hosts and devour written pieces where he speaks so eloquently and with such reverence about his craft…

You could, but you don’t.

You do none of these things. It simply cuts too deeply.

Early on, you did. Tortured yourself as you sobbed and cried out in the night like a homesick child. Yes, in those early days, you’d punished your fractured heart and yearning mind with pain; sunk your teeth into and gnashed them together, fearful of letting go.

But you’ve found your way. Tripped clumsily along, patching together a new normal slowly. The diamond that rests upon your ring finger reminds you of that…and you feel sick with self loathing. Weeping in this strange bed over what used to be, while he waits at home for you, happily watering your plants and tending to the household chores. Loving you from a distance.

He sends you texts just to say he loves you, and so you’ll know you’re on his mind. To ask if you’d like him to pick up anything from the store so you won’t have to worry about it when you return home. To remind you that he adores you in a hundred little ways.

…and here you lie, in a bed that isn’t the one you share with him, chest caving in around your heart, squeezed up tight and longing for Jake.

Jake, Jake, Jake…always Jake. Why won’t he go away?

A knock, swift and sure, startles you out of your misery with a jolt.

You don’t plan to answer, that’s a given…you’re a mess, complete with a blotchy, tear streaked face, and swollen eyes…so you’re silent as you creep over to the door to have a peek through the peephole.

He looks angelic, waiting out there in the hall nervously fidgeting. His curls look like home and your fingers itch to touch them, innocently. Almost the same, and so different all at once, now closely clipped at the sides. He looks reminiscent of his younger self. A little like the Josh you’ve only ever known through pictures; the Josh before he swept into your life like a tornado of light and smiles. He always was so beautiful. So offbeat. So eclectically mishmashed together and esoteric.

It’s like spotting a twin flame that you never expected to see again. Like the dead has risen…

…and before you’re consciously aware of your actions, you’re sliding the lock and cracking open the door.

“Hello, sweet girl.” His voice is soothing, and weighed down heavy as it slams into your head and scrambles your brain.

“Josh,” is all you’re able to manage, stupidly.

“As beautiful as ever, mama.” He smiles, flashing that tiny gap in his teeth that used to make you weak.

“Now, listen,” he holds a hand up and then shoes away whatever notion he’s about to bring up, “Don’t you hold this against our dear Daniel…I know you didn’t want to see us,” he lowers his voice into a conspiring whisper, “but you should know, he’s become a terrible tattletale in your absence.”

Suddenly, you’re hyper aware of the fact that you’ve left him standing in the hall like an unwelcome stranger. Against your better judgment, you invite him in.

He’s careful not to touch you, mindful of overstepping in a way that’s so out of character for him it makes you feel unsteady.

“You really do look lovely, sweetheart.” He smiles, “A vision. I’ve missed you, my friend. I’ve missed you very much.”

‘My friend’ stings a little at first, but within a blink, it settles and feels right - you were always friends. Friends before it became love, friends while it was love…

The Josh you knew possessed a great many talents, and quick adaptability was listed among them. He allowed the fickle winds of life to toss him about like no one you’d ever known, and had an ever present and uncannily firm grasp on relationships, and an admiration for how they can shift and morph.

He also always was a cool liar when it was for the greater good. Some things clearly never change.

Nervously, you sweep a hand through your hair and blot your eyes with the backs of your hands, “Lovely my ass…c’mere.”

With little reservation, you tug him in close and fold your arms around him. An unexpected huff of a laugh escapes you when you feel his familiar warmth.

He hugs you back, long and hard, with a soft, “Hi, baby, hi.”

“How’d you find me, you stalker?” You joke tenderly as he sways your bodies back and forth. “I didn’t give Danny my room number.”

That chuckle of his that you’d buried in the past trots out to say hello, “A trip to the front desk was all it took. Have you forgotten the Kiszka charm so easily?”

“Uh-huh,” you roll your eyes, though you’re still wrapped up tightly together and he cannot see.

“Okay,” he concedes “the Kiszka charm and maybe a hundred tucked into a hand or two.”

How strange that you had begged Danny not to tell him; his embrace is blissful and you’ve missed him terribly.

Still, there is a phantom in the room with the two of you, and you know without a doubt that he feels it too.

When he pulls back, his hands slip down your arms to clasp around yours…and he sees it.

“Oh my, mama,” he tugs it up closer for inspection, “would you look at that. Going to the chapel, huh?”

“I—“ for some unknown reason, you pull your hand away and tuck it behind your back as though you’ve been caught in a shameful act.

He tilts his head, regarding you carefully “Can we sit?”

With a welcoming gesture, you usher him in further, and like the gentleman he’s always been, he opts for the chair and doesn’t mention the disheveled bed, or its wept upon pillows.

After you settle in respectively, there’s a long stretch of silence in which you both seem to just sort of sink into being in the same room together again. Finally, he breaks the ice.

“He can’t know you’re here. It won’t be like this,” he waves a finger back and forth between the two of you, indicating the ease in which you’ve reunited.

A choked sob threatens to breach your lips at the mere mention of him, and your hand darts up to press it back.

“And he certainly can’t know about that.” Josh points to your ring winking obnoxiously in the light.

“Of course,” you nod rapidly, blinking tears back. “Yes, of course not…but, is he…” falling silent, your gaze lands on your bare toes and stays there.

“Is he, what?” Josh’s voice is kind, and you are so grateful for it. “Okay? No, sweetheart. He’s very far from okay. I should lie for him, I know I should. He’s my brother…I should tell you he’s happy. Happier than he’s ever been.”

“Will you?” There is a desperate hope in your plea that makes you cringe inwardly. “Will you tell me he’s happy?”

His eyes, so like his twins, and so full of sorrow, watch you for such a long time you begin to squirm this way and that in your seat. “Sit still, mama…” he finally scolds with the tiniest wink to soothe your anxiety, “he’s happy. He’s fine. But best if you just steer clear, alright?”

“So he’s happy? Or you should lie, Josh? Which is it?” Why are you asking? You don’t want to know. It’s infinitely easier to swallow the lie. You can’t stand the thought of Jake broken still and riddled with the pain you know so well.

With a sigh, he avoids your gaze. “You know the answer to that already, it seems. Are you?” His eyes flick towards your engagement ring, “Happy, I mean? Are you?”

Now it’s your turn to lie, “Yes. Very.”

He nods, and then glances at the mascara glaring from your pillows like evidence at trial. “Yes, it would seem so.”

“Josh, I—“

“Look,” he cuts you off, stressing with urgency. “We’re only here for the night. Lay low if you can. He’s bad off, and to see you would level him. To see you with that,” he once again points out your ring, “Would kill him. You leaving…”

A shaking breath rattles his shoulders, “It wasn’t easy for either of us, but Jake? Jake is still in that hotel room you walked out of a thousand nights ago. He never left, sweet girl. He never fucking left…and as much as I know that it’s not your fault…”

He trails off in thought and then drags in a hitching hiss of air, “As much as I know it isn’t either of our faults, I still place all that blame right here, with you and me. I can’t watch him descend any further, alright? So just lay low until we’re gone. For me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, a thousand questions beating like bird’s wings against the cage of your mind, “Yes, of course.”

Another lull slips in to visit until he shakes his head slowly, “How did I ever manage to get over you? You truly are beautiful. I’d almost forgotten…that’s heartbreaking.”

There is an innocuous lilt to his tone that warms your soul like cocoa with the fattest marshmallow bobbing along in the mug, and you feel your cheeks turn pink under his open, golden gaze.

“Me?” You laugh, “What about you, gorgeous? I love the hair.”

“Oh, you know,” he brushes his palms over the sides with a bashful shrug, “I let Sam trim it, scissors slipped…had to do something.”

“Still blaming Sam for all of life’s tragedies?” You laugh again. You always did laugh so freely with him, and you’ve missed it more than you ever allowed yourself to realize.

He scoffs with the faintest roll of his sparkling eyes “Obviously. That’s what the youngest is for, mama. You know this. And speaking of Samuel, you understand that Daniel will tell him, right? Those two might as well just get married and call it a day.”

Another giggle sounds out of you, “Don’t be jealous, Joshua. It’s unbecoming. Danny loves you, too…and Sammy I would say definitely considers you a solid acquaintance.”

“Yes, well, my acquaintance would be thoroughly crushed if he didn’t get the chance to at least say hello to you. Maybe later tonight? After the show?” He leans forward and toys with the beads swinging between his knees. “How would that be?”

“Only Sammy?”

He holds up two fingers, scout’s honor, “Only Sammy.”

You agree, and catch up a while longer until it’s time for him to take his leave, and you can’t help the confession that blurts out of your mouth without eloquence.

“You said he never left that hotel room,” you waver with bitten back tears. “It wasn’t…I don’t want you to think…it took me a very long time to leave that room, too.”

One last time, before the door closes behind him, his eyes linger on your pillow and the evidence of your tears, and then find yours, “Sweetheart, are you sure you’ve left it at all?”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @jakesgrapejuice @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @gretasmokerising @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake

[nonotnolan]

Summer Break Dullahans

I can’t say that I was expecting to respond to somebody’s cry for help at three in the afternoon.  The student dorms were already pretty empty, since only one of the three buildings would be open for summer classes, and most people were at home until the summer semester officially started.  So when I heard a faint cry of “Can anybody hear me?  I need help!” it was easy for me to believe that the guy had been yelling in vain for quite awhile.  I wasn’t sure what I expected-- a Freshman who managed to get pinned between the bed and the wall, maybe?  I sure as hell wasn’t expecting to see Ben’s detached head sitting on a couch pillow.

No wonder he was yelling for help, he was literally just a head!  I walked over and picked him up off the couch, grabbing him on either side of his ears.  I thought for sure this was just an optical illusion somehow, but... no, I was holding his entire head in my hands.  “Put me down, jackass,” he shouted, trying and failing to wiggle out of my grip.  “I don’t need help from you.”

I wasn’t expecting to feel the muscles in his jaw move as he spoke, and I’m a bit ashamed to admit I actually dropped him in surprise.  He landed on the couch, at least, but it couldn’t have felt good to land nose-first from that far up.  “I’m so sorry, Ben,” I said, as I rotated him back to an upright position.  “What happened to you, anyway?”

“You know damn well what happened-- your fucking roommate happened, that’s what,” he said, glaring at me.  “I was just watching some Netflix when Grant barges into my room with a goddamn sword.  Next thing I know I’m stuck on the couch, and he’s taking away my headless body!  He already told me about your plan to steal bodies away from other guys, don’t you fucking dare pretend to feel bad.”  Well, that was news to me, but Ben refused to believe a word I said.  Not knowing what else to do, I turned on the TV on for him, and leaved the door open so that the next person might be able to find him a bit easier.  

Pulling out my phone, I discovered that I’d missed a few text messages from Grant.  He said he was waiting for me downstairs in the parking garage with a surprise that I’d have to see to believe.  Which... yeah, if I hadn’t managed to stumble across Ben’s detached head, I don’t think that I ever would have expected to see a muscular Grant.  He was a great roommate and all, but the dude was maybe 120 pounds on a good day.  Given that I was easily twice his weight, the two of us definitely had a weird dynamic going.

Or, we used to, at any rate.  The new Grant was almost certainly a lot more muscular than he had ever been before in his entire life.  It was hard to imagine the guy who stayed up every night with me to grind rank in League of Legends being able to earn a physique like that.  And there was something about seeing his pale head resting on top of Ben’s tanned body that was just far too comical.

“What, is that the only reaction I’m going to get?” he asked, frowning slightly.  “Fuckin’ look at me, bro.  I’m like some sort of Alpha Male now.  You wish you could be a man like me!”  He started flexing his arms, causing veins to appear in places I didn’t even know they existed.  “It’s okay to be jealous, Eric.  You don’t gotta act so modest on my account.  I know you’re gay, it’s okay if you suddenly want a piece of this.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.  “Sorry if you were expecting me to be completely losing it right now,” I said.  “I already ran into Ben upstairs, and he told me... well, what’s left of him told me about what you did.  Nice sword, by the way.”

“Well, fuck,” he said, letting his shoulders drop.  There was something about seeing him stand there, slouched over, that made him look so much more like the real Grant.  “Probably should have slapped his head onto my old body before leaving.  I guess on the plus side, I won’t have to work very hard to convince you that this sword is magic somehow.  And anyway, I still have another surprise up my sleeve.”  He snapped his fingers, and gestured toward a figure who had been standing off in the shadows.  Well, most of a figure, at any rate.  A headless body, absolutely stacked with muscles, stepped forward into the lights.

“Did you... is that for me?” I asked, trying to make sense of the surge of emotions I felt.  Desire.  Longing.  Lust.  Holy hell, I wanted that body to be mine.  The shoulders, the pecs, the abs... healthy, vibrant, everything that my current pale and flabby body could never be.  Not without more work than I would ever be willing to do.  A primal, animalistic Need.  And, if I had to be honest, a slight amount of guilt.  I’d already saw what Grant had done to Ben.  If I made this body mine, I would be stealing it from someone else.

I was utterly entranced.  I found myself tracing the ridges of its chest with my fingers, my head utterly swimming in hormones as my manhood rose to its paltry four inches underneath my cargo shorts.  “Grant, who did... where did you find him?”

“Nuh-uh,” Grant said, shaking his head at me.  “I know you, Eric.  You think too much.  If I tell you his name, you’re gonna feel bad and you’re gonna try to make it up to him.  Fuck that shit.  This is all or nothing.  You want this body, you don’t get to know whose it was.”

He knew me far too well.  I looked back and forth between Grant and the headless muscle hunk that he had procured for me.  Did I want it that badly?  Would I be able to live with myself afterward?  My head tried to argue ethics, but my heart already knew my answer.  

I dropped down onto my knees, giving Grant easier access to my neck.  He lifted the sword up high into the air, striking down with a massive swing.  I felt a sudden lurch as I fell several feet to the ground.  I tried to use my arms to prevent myself from hitting the ground, only I didn’t have arms anymore-- my old body was completely unresponsive.

“Hey, wanna know what your new body is gonna smell like?”  I tried to protest, but I was unable to stop Grant from lifting up my new body’s arm and shoving my head right into its armpit.  The coarse hair brushed up against my nose and lips as the sweaty musk filled my nostrils.  “Yeah, you like that, don’t you,” he said, laughing at me.  I wanted to be mad, but... he was absolutely right.

“Just shut up and attach my head,” I said, trying not to let him know how much it was turning me on.  If I didn’t have an armpit fetish before, I did now.  Grant lowered my head into place, and suddenly I had full control over my new, muscular body.

I practically sprinted back inside to find a bathroom with a good mirror.  Can you blame me?  You could still see the difference between my head’s pale skin and my body’s bronze tan, but I think maybe a lot of people would  just assume that I had used tanning spray.  Hell, for all I know, my prior body really had used a tanning spray.

A few months from now, the rest of my friends would return from summer break, and I would have to try and convince everyone that I had gained this body naturally.  No one would ever believe that I had lost 100 pounds at the same time that my roommate gained 100 pounds.  Although... if Grant was planning to keep the sword, maybe he would be willing to hook up my friends with a new body as well?

[furbygoblinxiv]

Ok now to be annoying about a completely different flavor of Zelda: That cartoon from the 80s that has aged so poorly I take psychic damage every time I watch it (which has been multiple times (I have problems)). A few months ago when rewatching and being sick of the Link's personality from the show (his best feature is how funny the "Well excuuuuse me, princess" line is) I was like "I wish the quiet kid from the games/art was here instead" and accidentally thought too hard and made an au/rewrite of the cartoon lmao.

Anyways Zelda cartoon au where cryptid boy Link saves the post apocalyptic Hyrule of loz 1 and chills in the castle with cartoon Zelda to defend the triforce pieces that they have while trying to find the last piece before Ganon can find it, stumbling across the sleeping loz 2 Zelda along the way lol. Hijinks ensue as he teaches Zelda the brawns to back up her girlboss and he gets an adventure buddy because its dangerous to go alone and Zelda with her boomerang and crossbow goes hard. I think a monster of the week style plot works for the earlier Zelda games, but an overarching plot could coexist with that since that is kinda how games work lol.

As per usual here are a bunch of slapdash barely related sketches of my ideas with my expanded thoughts below bc I think it'd be fun to share:

I look at the official art of Link being a quiet determined little dude with a backpack of tools and wish that that was represented more. Like look at him! What a guy! Imagine giving a quiet puzzle solving 14 year old a sword, lethal magical weapons, and a wasteland to explore! I would love a show about that! In terms of other characters, swap out that annoying fairy character, put in a Navi clone, at least Navi didn't have a crush on Link🤮. Ganon can stay the same so long as he was always a demon pig and was never a Gerudo man because unlike Nintendo, I do not want to imply that the only prominent man of color in the series has only one big braincell thats just screaming "EVIL" on loop. But! Keep Zelda the same, I love her so much in the cartoon, she's obnoxious in a slay girlboss way, maximum vibes. By virtue of not having a paper thin plot, most other characters that were fine get fixed by proxy.

I think plot wise? It takes place a few years after the first game. Initially, Link saved the royal family and they started rebuilding that area of Hyrule, and Link traveled around to help people. One day, Ganon's minions start making attacks on the castle to steal the triforce pieces back to revive him fully, and a Zelda who greatly admires Links steps up to defend the place. Eventually, Zelda requests Link return to help defend the castle while they search for the mysterious hidden third triforce piece in order to combine the full thing and wish for peace in Hyrule. Link agrees and the hyjinks begin.

IIRC the og Link backstory was that he was the son of the hyrulean queen and the elf king or smth? In the manga? I didn't want him to be hylian royalty but I wanted to keep that cryptid vibe, hence why I have him related instead to the great fairy and the kokiri. He just leaves the forest/cave one day with literally nothing to go save Hyrule, what a chad. I think it'd be funny if people describe Zelda as feral due to how boisterous and headstrong she is, especially out on the field, but Link is the quiet version of wild that you don't notice at first. She is openly intelligent and snarky in comparison to "says 3 lines a day, bombs first and asks questions later, explore under every rock and bush" forest kid Link.

It would be fun though if "rushes into danger" Zelda resonated more with the triforce of power and "solves dungeon puzzles for funsies" Link with the triforce of wisdom, then they both resonated with the triforce of courage upon finding it. idk tho lol

I also think two different young Zeldas coexisting with each other after one awoke from a cursed slumber would be really funny. Like that's gotta be so awkward, especially if one has the fighter girlboss slay up to 11 and the other just woke up from a coma to her family gone and her kingdom destroyed and just kinda wants to read books and drink tea in peace. Imagine being the same age or older than your great (great?) aunt. Or imagine if the old lady Impa nursemaid to Zelda 1 Zelda was the young Impa nursemaid to the Zelda 2 Zelda. Wild.

If I wasn't incapable of remembering to finish writing wips I'd write that series lol. Alas, this is all I can pull for now.

I'd love to call this propaganda to go watch the show but maybe don't because its yikes. This is moreso propaganda for someone to make a Zelda cartoon show instead of the movie that I sense Nintendo is plotting to make. Also, if you've read this far, I should mention I also will probably be posting art from some of my actual long term Zelda aus beyond just expanding on the cartoon, though I may continue to do that if my train of thought continues on these tracks.

[fipindustries]

the first lesson

"belief" chuckled the old man as he turned a delicate glass that contained some opulent limonchello "let me tell you something about how wizards trade in belief"

he was bald, with wild curly hair growing to the sides like the branches of a bonsai tree. he was also rather fat, not in a way that made him look flabby but rather round as a whole. his body could be easily drawn as a circle from which his head poked out, if some leeway for stylization were allowed to the artist. he wore a dark suit and dark round glasses as well as a simple goatee.

"do you lock your doors at night with a key?"

"uh... yes, teacher"

sitting in the small round table at the bar, across from him, was his student. a nervous lady, taller than him and far thinner, with a suit similar to his, dark and antiquated. they looked like undertakers. maybe they even were.

"wise thing to do, given your residence"

The student pursed her lips at this but made no comment. for reasons she could not understand her teacher was fond of making fun or criticizing her economic situation. and for sure there was a lot to complain about, she would do as much regularly, but her teacher seemed to be weirdly fixated on this. he would drop comments about it, cheerfully and casually and she would not respond to any of them and little by little the grains of sand would keep accumulating in the back of her head.

"so every night, before you sleep, you lock the front door of your room with a key, you put the key in the locke and you turn it once, and then twice, and you make a habit out of this, so much so that you do it unconciously, it is an automatic gesture with no thought put into it at all. you dont think to yourself 'now the door is locked', is just a truth of the universe, unacknowledged and yet all the same internalized"

"is this a story or is this your speculations about my life?"

"everything is a story if it's not meant to be literally true, maybe it is true, but that is not my intention"

"very well continue, teacher"

"so the next day, when you wake up and need to step out into the world, before doing that you unlock the door. now this is very important, you don't have to take a few moments to collect yourself and wonder if wether you locked your door last night, you dont have to take stock of your memories and recall that indeed you put the key there before going to sleep and locked the door tight, you just unlock the door because it is a deeply accepted truth that the door is simply locked"

"and the only way to unlock it is with a key"

"the only way indeed! very good!"

she didnt need to add that comment, and if it had been simply up to her whim she would have remained silent and let the man continue his lecture. but she had learned that her teacher enjoyed these interjections, however superfluous they might be, he always recieved them with joy and enthusiasm, as if she had solved a mystery or shown a deep insight. this was another of his weird quirks that she entertained simply because they seemed to make her interactions with him more frictionless.

"and now," he continued "imagine one day you go to a party and drink copious ammounts of alcohol, quantities large enough to make you dispossesed of your wits, not that i suggest you would actually do such a thing, at least not on the regular" the teacher gave her an unwanted wink "so your friends carry you back home and you stumble your steps up to your front door and once inside you are so out of sorts that you simply forget to lock the door, after which you fall into your bed and go to sleep"

"is this something about how my compromised state makes me believe for one night that ill be safe even though i havent locked the door or something?"

"not at all, you sleep soundly all night without being attacked, who knows, maybe burglars and robbers were busy in other houses or other parties, getting themselves merry and drunk, whatever the case may be you wake up the next day with no memory of last night, with quite a hangover, sadly there are no pills or medicines that can aid you with your malady at your home, so you will have to go to the corner drugstore to get something to let you handle your headache"

the student pursed her lips once again. there was a drugstore at the corner of her street, so this story not being about her seemed just a fraction less likely, but then again, there were drugstores at the corners of many streets.

"so you unlock your door and step outside, it's a lovely day with the birds singing and the sun shining and you go to the farmacy and buy the medicine you need to handle your hangover, end of the story"

"but how could i have unlocked the door if the door was already unlocked?" she said mechanically, knowing that this was the obvious question the story was baiting.

"exactly! very good my student!"

an overstated praise for a trite question. maybe her teacher just enjoyed being humored.

"for you see, to you it was not a matter of assuring yourself that the door was locked, to you it was simply a truth of the world, as profound and unquestionable as that things fall down"

"i see, and that is the level of belief i have to master in order to do magic?"

"more or less, yes" said the teacher sipping the limonchello.

"seems difficult to achieve without extensive use of manipulation, doublethink, brainwashing or psychodelics"

"hmm? what do you mean?"

"that...to internalize a belief that profoundly, seems hard to do without a lot of mental effort, without a rather strong amount of self deception and psychological trickery"

"i really dont know what you're talking about, you just have to believe, is the easiest thing in the world"

"it's... not, it's very much not, to believe, to truly believe, to actually thoroughly change one's mind about the nature of reality, against proof, against evidence is basically impossible"

"is that what you believe?"

"is-" oh, that was the trick. she had to internally stifle a groan. her teacher had pulled another of his dumb rethorical tricks. he seemed to be just as delighted when she failed to catch on as he was when she stated the obvious.

"that is the first belief you have to change, indeed is the first belief that all wizards have to change when they start" he said, chuckling again.

"that is the first spell that every wizard casts" she said, completing the thought.

"now" said the teacher, pulling out a small box with a large lock on it from his cape. he placed it on the small table, in the middle of the glasses, and then he pulled a key from a pocket. he put the key on the lock and turned once, and twice. then he put the key back into his pocket. "i want you to open this box"

the student looked at the box. so that was her challenge, to find the way to believe in her heart of hearts that this locked box was actually open. no, not even believe in hear heart of hearts, not even to know, really. this had to be something that trascended awareness.

she took a big gulp from her beer. she was going to fail the test so she wanted to steel herself to be embarassed.

obviously it was impossible for her to rewrite her brain right there and then and she was not even going to try. there was going to be no clapping while saying that she believed in fairies. that was just not how actual beliefs about the world were formed.

if it was a trick that all wizards had to master, she didnt have the instruction or the tools for how to do it. she looked at the box a little more. her hands hovered over it, hesitating. the moment she placed her hands on it and failed to open it, the test would be done and she would have failed and the was no circumventing that. she just wanted to delay the pie to her face a little longer.

of course, because she was her, she couldnt help but actually pause and still try her best to find the answer to the conundrum. she covered her mouth with one hand and scratched her mane of curls around her head with the other, like she did whenever she was deep in thought. her brow deeply furrowed with concentration.

And then she realized the true nature of her test. how dissapointing. it was a dumb trick of course. she placed a finger on top of the box and said "abracadabra"

She then opened the box.

"marvelous! marvelous! exceptional! very good my student! not even i did better than that when i was faced with the test!" exclaimed the teacher while clapping enthusiastically.

She was well and truly tired of her master's condescention.

"you didnt lock the box when you put the key in, you unlocked it" she said, rolling her eyes "the box was unlocked all along"

"exactly! precisely! the box was unlocked all along, just like the door in my story was locked all along!"

"no! no that is not the same thing!" insisted the student banging the table with her fist "in your story, someone believing that a door is locked changes reality retroactively to make it so that the door was always locked, but in my case the box was actually unlocked all along!" the ruckus made one of the waiters show up with a confused look in his face

"well yes, that is the point, that is what changing reality retroactively is supposed to look like, like it was unlocked all along" the teacher turned towards the waiter "thanks for showing up, what is the cost of these beverages, garçon?"

"that would be 30 in total"

"ah! very well, now you see i am a magician, so allow me a bit of flair" said the master waving his hands around in a very theatrical way "your fee is inside that box being held by my lovely assistant, my dear girl would you hand the box to our waiter?"

She rolled her eyes and gave the box to the poor confused man. who grabbed it and tried to pry it open. but he couldn't.

"um... is the box closed?" asked the waiter, out of sorts.

"oh? it should be opened, try again" said the old man.

the waiter struggled a little more but he could not open the box in any way. finally he turned to the teacher with forlorn expression.

"i give up, what's the trick?"

the old man reached behind the waiter's left ear and pulled out the key.

"here why dont you try with this"

"that is a really old trick" said the waiter while he unlocked the box and pulled out the money from inside it. he returned the box by forcefully pressing it against the old man's chest.

"what i nice lad!" said the teacher, while putting the key into the lock again and turning it once and then twice again. "anyway, where were we?"

the girl was just looking at he teacher, a mix of confusion, annoyance and a little bit of fear on her face.

"ok, how did you do that" she asked.

"i didnt do anything, you did, you opened the box"

"no, that... that was a trick, the lock is a clever mechanism or something"

"you are thinking like a magician, and i am asking you to think like a wizard, you opened this box, my dear girl, because you believed that it was opened, you already did this trick once, now all you have to do" said the man, placing the box back into the table "is do it again"

she hesitated.

"this is still a trick, right? you rigged it somehow so that if i try ill be able to open the box?"

the teacher laid back on the chair, very satisfied with himself. he crossed his fingers over his belly. she somehow felt that this, out of everything he had done that night, was his most sincere display of pride in her.

"what do you believe?" he said

she reached for the box.

[csuitebitches]

The Best Workout that Changed My Body (Model Workout)

Growing up, I was a chubby kid. As a teenager, I was “skinny-fat” - I had a tummy but lean arms and legs. I have tried everything to burn that belly fat off; right from detox teas, waist clinchers, sports, Pilates, limiting my calorie intake, weight lifting, strength training, eating only health food for months, lemon water, even K-Pop stars’ diets… you name it and I’ve probably done it.

Then I finally found something that worked out for me. I stumbled across it on Reddit, and I shared it with my friends, not thinking that it would actually work.

Except that it did.

A friend who had gained 10 kgs because of her thyroid lost nearly 8 kgs in a matter of a couple of months. Another friend - who’s quite skinny and petite and struggled with weight gain - saw her body get more toned in just a couple of weeks.

So I decided to try it out as well - and I could actually see a difference in just a week’s time (as crazy as this sounds). A few pants I had that I always felt a little insecure about wearing actually felt LOOSE at the waist! I couldn’t believe it!

Now, for a little disclaimer. The person who created these workouts happens to train models. They are specialised in model training- reducing waist cm, hips is their specialty. HOWEVER. They were accused of filming their clients in their gym bathroom. Their spouse eventually took over the company. But that still doesn’t sit right with me. So that means that I will not be buying any of the company’s products, even though the work outs are really effective and require minimum equipment.

So I did a little bit of sleuthing - and found 5 out of 6 of their workouts for free on Reddit.

I’m going to share the link that I found on Reddit. I am NOT responsible for uploading the files. I have no role to play in it. These have been available on Reddit for literally years. I have no idea who the original distributor is, either. Also, these videos are quite old. I’m sure that the new ones are different from these.

The workouts range from 20-60 minutes (most of them are at 40 minutes though). The best part is that you can do these anywhere.

The only equipment you really need:

- yoga mat

- Slide discs/ wash cloths

- Ankle weights

- 3 pound dumbbells

Here it is (the link)

The nutrition guide:

(I have not come up with this. Do not hold me responsible if you do not agree with what the trainer says).

1. Calorie intake: 1600 calories

2. No juice, rice, pasta, potatoes, bread 2-3 hours before you workout. If you must eat, it has to be low calorie protein or lean (eggs, protein shake, lean protein, salad, vegetables).

3. No carbs after 3 pm.

4. Dinner should be protein and vegetable based.

5. No protein for 1-2 hours after workout. Fruit juice, fruits, vegetables and starchy carbs are fine.

6. Only treadmill for cardio. Slow jogs. No weights for lower body, outside of the program. No lunges, squats or deadlifts. Yoga and Pilates are fine. I personally do 12-3-30.

How I use this routine:

Monday: workout 1

Tuesday: 12-3-30

Wednesday: workout 2

Thursday: 12-3-30

Friday: workout 3

Saturday: workout 4 +12-3-30

Sunday: 12-3-30 / yoga/ rest day

I take 5 days off in a month during my period. These workouts are also not crazy intense (I’m used to playing sports and being active in general) so I’m fine doing it everyday.

What is 12-3-30?

Treadmill workout where:

12- incline

3 - speed

30 - minutes

[kdogreads]

Perfect Strangers

Dean x Reader smut

Summary: You wander into your favorite bar to relax after a long day. When a tall, dark and handsome hunter walks in, you end up in his car making questionable decisions.

TW: Alcohol, spanking, car sex; please let me know anything else

Word count: 3225 (oops lol)

A/N: I got a little carried away on this one. Please let me know if there are any mistakes and all feedback is welcome! Enjoy at your own risk ;)

—————————————————-

The only thing you could think about right now was how desperately you wanted a damn drink. This last demon hunt really kicked your ass — literally. The demon knocked you on your butt during the fight and it was really damn sore; not that you’d admit that to anyone. You pulled into your favorite dive bar and let out a sigh of relief. Finally, a chance to relax.

You recognized some of the cars there as other hunters. This was a hunter hotspot, after all. Friends, colleagues, and perfect strangers alike all gathered here to pretend they were normal people with normal jobs for a few hours, just like anyone else. Or they’d just drink enough to think they really did work a 9-5, until they stumbled outside mumbling about spirits and vamps and dead man’s blood.

You swung open the squeaky, rusted door and watched all the heads turn to see who was coming in now. Some nodded your way, a few gave small waves or smiles, and the rest just turned back to their own conversations. A peeling barstool off on its own was calling your name and you made your way over to settle in for the evening.

“What’s your poison tonight, (y/n)?” The friendly bartender you’d come to know asked as you took your jacket off and threw it over the stool.

“Long island, please, Frank,’’ You smiled at the weathered man. He wasn’t a hunter, but he knew enough to welcome them in, not ask too many questions, and keep their drinks full.

“That bad, huh?” He smiled at you, reaching for the many bottles needed.

“You don’t want to know, my friend.” You let out a chuckle and ran a hand through your y/h/c hair, tucking it behind your ear.

“You got that right,” Frank said with a wink, “Let me know when you’re ready for another.” He slid your drink across the counter and headed off to tend to his other patrons.

You sipped the potent liquid and felt yourself relax. Classic rock and old country music played quietly from the jukebox, lulling you to someplace else in some other life.

Just as you finished the last of your first drink, Frank slid another one your way, and you heard the familiar squeak of the front door opening. This time, you joined the crowd and turned to see who had wondered their way in.

Two tall, tired-looking men in blue jeans and flannel shirts — undeniably hunters — stepped through the door into the smoky room. A tight smile crept across the taller one’s face, acknowledging he was a friend of the cause. He nodded ambiguously before tucking into a booth in the corner and opening up a beat-up laptop. The other man, still tall but slightly shorter than the other, headed straight to the bar and looked for an open spot. Naturally, the only open seat was right next to you. Great.

The handsome man nodded slightly as he threw a bowed leg over the stool just inches from you.

Frank made his way over and greeted the man. He raised an eyebrow your way, silently asking if you were okay. You smiled slightly in response, so Frank lightened up and made small talk with the mystery man. He returned shortly with his order, bottom-shelf whiskey on the rocks, and it fell quiet again in your little corner of the world. Nothing but the smooth sounds of Bob Seger’s voice filled your ears. That is, until you felt a pair of eyes on you and another smooth, deep voice invaded your senses.

“How do you drink that sugary shit?” The voice boomed loudly, but not demandingly. Just making conversation.

“How do you drink that gut-rotting shit?” You questioned back. The man chuckled.

“Fair enough,” he conceded and raised his glass towards you. Your glasses clinked together and you both sipped your medication of choice for the night.

“Dean,” he offered, turning slightly in his chair towards you.

“Y/n,” you smiled.

“Nice to meet you, y/n.” Dean flashed a heartbreaking smile, eyes crinkling in the corners and nostrils flaring out just slightly. It was only then you noticed how pleasant his musk of leather and gunpowder was.

You spent the next few minutes sharing stories of a long day of travel and your beloved cars, both old Chevys, and how content you were to be here, drinking your thoughts away.

The minutes grew longer and, before you knew it, it had been nearly three hours and nearing 1 o’clock in the morning.

Dean was devastatingly charming — offering kind and sarcastic comments intermixed, light taps on your arm when telling a funny story, and hunting war stories, some satisfying and some really, really dark.

It was in the middle of his tale about battles with Lucifer, the literal devil, you felt the drinks catching up to you and you excused yourself to the bathroom. Not realizing just how many you’d had, you felt a bit unsteady upon rising from your wobbling barstool. Dean gripped your arm to keep you from tumbling over.

“Easy there, tiger. Didn’t find your sea legs yet, huh?” Dean shook his head and let out a light laugh watching you try your hardest to keep your balance.

“Watch it, Dean. I could still kick your ass right now. Don’t try me,” you spat back playfully having gained enough awareness in your limbs to stand on your own.

Dean threw his hands up in surrender, motioning for you to head in the direction of the bathroom.

“Well,” you began after clearing your throat, “If you feel you must accompany me to the restroom to ensure my vertical integrity, please don’t let me stop you.” You sloppily strung the colorful sentence together, giggling in the middle of your performance.

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean let out a hearty laugh and stood up next to you, offering his arm to hook yours into, “Your humble servant.”

You giggled the whole way to the bathroom, weaving a winding path down the otherwise straight hallway. You arrived at the small, dimly-lit “ladies room” sign and your escort paused in front of it.

“Now, Dean, you and your nice, firm biceps will have to wait for me out here,” you squeezed the muscular arm keeping you upright and let out yet another girlish laugh.

“I’ll be right out here, sweetheart,” Dean smiled and shook his head, opening the wooden door for you.

You raised your brows at the ‘sweetheart’ comment, and smiled what you intended to be an alluring smile, but didn’t feel confident you’d conveyed anything but a drunken smirk.

You took care of what you needed to, likely taking much longer than intended and banging into the walls a bit more often than usual. As you washed your hands, the warm water felt nice over your cold hands and made a chill dance up your back, pulling you slightly back into the sober world.

Outside the door, Dean patiently waited, chuckling with every thud against the wall. He smiled at you as you swung the door open again and stepped your way back into the dark hallway.

“Feel better?” He questioned, offering his arm back out to you.

“Much better, but I am too old to be out this late,” you responded, now feeling the alcohol dragging gravity down on your body at a much heavier rate than normal.

Dean laughed and nodded in agreement, “Right there with you, sweetheart. Let me take you home.”

There he goes throwing “sweethearts” around again. It made your stomach flutter a little more this time.

Typically, you would never agree to get into a strange’s man car, but having passed your sneaky monster tests — a dash of holy water in his glass when he went to the bathroom, brushing his skin with your silver ring, watching as his arm rested on the iron rivets in Frank’s bar top — Dean seemed all human, and humans you could deal with. You were certain he’d tested you, too, without your knowledge. If he were as good a hunter as he sounded, he better have.

“Alright, taxi man, but if you turn out to be a serial killer or some kind of weirdo, I’m not a very willing victim,” you offered back playfully, “I’ll bite back.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” Dean responded, a different, deeper tone to his voice. You felt a smile creep across your face as you imagined what he might be thinking.

You both stopped to pay your tabs and said goodnight to Frank. He smiled an inquisitive smile your way and you rolled your eyes in response.

You stepped into the cool night air with Dean, questioning the decisions that got you to this point, but not really caring.

He led you through the parking lot to his stunning classic car. You stood still a moment, taking in her shine in the moonlight.

“Baby, y/n. Y/n, Baby,” Dean motioned to you and to the car. Clearly, he loved this hunk of metal a whole lot more than you did your old rust bucket.

“Lovely to meet you, Baby. So sorry our first meeting will include me climbing inside of you.”

Dean laughed at your bold introduction. “She doesn’t mind,” he replied. You weren’t sure if he was flirting with you or the car, but you were entertained nonetheless.

He walked around to open the passenger side door for you. You felt a sense of nervousness as you climbed into her bench seat, followed immediately by a rush of excitement, not knowing what was in store for you next.

The interior smelled just like Dean had a few hours ago. Leather, gunpowder, and sexual tension. You felt tingles in your stomach and a warmth between your thighs as the anticipation grew for Dean to climb in next to you.

“Ah, some music?” Dean reached for the dial as soon as the engine roared to life. You jumped at the slam of his door, but relaxed again when the familiar opening notes of Bruce Springsteen’s “I’m on Fire” danced through the speakers. The growing melody made your heart beat faster than before.

“Where to, Miss Daisy?” Dean asked.

“Here,” you answered, turning so your whole body faced Dean. You slid over the seat to place your cool hand on his warm forearm.

“What do you- Oh,” Dean began, placing his large hand over yours, “You’re sure, y/n? That’s what you want?”

“Yes, Dean, this is what I want. And you?” You raised another hand to the top of his buttoned-up shirt, panting into his ear, your mouth now inches from him, and circled a finger around the top button. “Do you want me, Dean?”

“Oh yes I do,” Dean hissed and placed his free hand on the back of your neck, pulling your mouth to his.

Your lips crashed together, eagerly opening and closing together in a fast rhythm. Dean’s tongue worked its way into your mouth, searching around your bottom teeth and your tongue. You started working on the buttons of his flannel, moving frantically to pull the constricting garment off him.

Now in a plain t-shirt, he looked even more enticing to you. Biceps glistening in the yellowish glow of the street lamps, he easily grabbed your hips and pulled you into his lap.

Straddling his legs, you could feel his large member growing more and more solid under your wet core. You grinded into him and a deep groan escaped from his chest.

“God, y/n, you are so beautiful,” Dean hissed into your skin, placing rough kisses along your jaw and neck.

He reached a hand down to cup your round ass before reaching under you to rub your dripping core through your jeans. You let out a moan and panted as you sat up taller, allowing him a further reach. The friction of his hand on your clit nearly made you cum already.

You could hardly take it anymore. You wanted Dean inside of you so desperately.

Dipping back down to kiss his lips again, you undid the button of your jeans and Dean did the same.

Suddenly, Dean pushed you over his shoulder and yanked your jeans down your thighs. He hesitated for a moment to put his hands around your ass and let out a low, “Fuck.”

“Have you been a bad girl, y/n?” Dean growled into your skin, rubbing small circles over your ass and thigh while his other strong arm wrapped around your waist to hold you firmly in place.

“Dean!” You shrieked, the cool air swirling around your wet folds made you forget for a moment what you were about to say. “What if someone walks by?”

“They’re drunk,” he hissed, planting a small bite on your exposed hip, “Now answer me.” He tightened his grip on the sensitive skin just under your full hips, gliding achingly closer to your throbbing core. Your worry melted away, just wanting Dean to touch you.

“Yes,” You panted, “Yes Dean.” Anticipation growing deep in your body. You inhaled sharply as his large hand landed roughly on your skin.

“I knew you were, my dirty slut,” Dean hissed, landing another spank on your ass, followed by a slow rub, “Already so wet for me, too, huh?”

You groaned as another smack, and another, and another stung your throbbing skin. Each blow sent a surge of hotness through your veins, making you wetter and wetter. He peeled back just one leg of your jeans, but it was more than enough to give you the freedom you needed.

Dean finally lowered you back into his lap, kissing you eagerly and rubbing the sting away with his rough, careful hands.

He lifted the two of you up slightly as you pulled his jeans down enough to free his rock-hard cock. You gripped it tightly with one hand while the other tangled into Dean’s hair. You stroked him slowly at first, then faster as he let low growls escape from his chest.

He grabbed at your hair and your ass, growing more and more eager to feel the warm walls inside you.

Dean let out another string of curse words before grabbing the sides of your face and pulling your face to his, kissing you softer than before, but somehow even hungrier to feel you around him.

You lined your dripping entrance up with him and slowly sank down until your thighs met his and you both let out deep moans. He filled you completely and stretched your walls further than ever before. Dean’s strong hands grabbed your hips and carefully lifted you up, allowing you to adjust to his size inside you, before pushing you back down with more force this time.

You grabbed onto the seat back behind Dean and braced yourself to bounce up and down on his hard cock, slamming into your sweet spot with every thrust. He left his hands on your hips, but let you take the lead, eager to see what you could do to him.

“Fuck, y/n,” Dean panted between your thrusts, “Fuck, you ride that cock so good.”

You let a smirk grow across your lips and he grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled your head back roughly.

“Dean,” you whined, “You feel so good inside me.” You felt the pressure rising in your core, Dean’s grip on your body causing him to hit just the right spot over and over.

“Cum for me, baby. Cum all over me.”

His words sent tingles over your clit, sending you over the edge. The hotness of an orgasm took over your body, taking over your senses with shockwaves of pleasure. You shook in Dean’s lap as your walls clenched around him. He guided you up and down, riding out the frantic waves of pleasure with you.

Dean groaned deep in his throat as your walls released him slightly, making him desperate for more of you. He shoved you down, filling you up with his hardness, and ground your hips into his.

Your nails dug into his back as Dean rolled you forward and back, the friction on your clit making you moan and breathe out, “Dean- fuck. I-I’m gonna cum.” Your warm breath rolling over his face, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Dean, please don’t stop,” you barely spat out, shocks of pleasure coursing through your body.

Feeling your walls tightening again, Dean slid his hand between your bodies, rubbing your clit with his rough fingers. The changing in sensation sent you bucking frantically into another orgasm. You saw stars as the waves overtook you and you felt Dean release deep inside you, spilling out the warm liquid into your walls and filling you to your limit. The spasms of both of your muscles intensify each other’s sensations while Dean pulls you closer to him, gripping tightly onto your lower back.

Both of your bodies start to relax as the final shockwaves of pleasure rush through you. Gently, your forehead lands on his and a smile grows across his face. He brushes your messy y/h/c off your cheek.

“Damn, y/n, you wanted that bad, huh?” Dean teased before meeting his lips to yours for a deep, slow kiss.

“Screw you, Winchester,” you spat back playfully, smacking Dean on the shoulder and shaking your head.

“You already did,” he winked and planted a light tap on your back.

You let out a laugh and began to swing your leg over to take your place back in the passenger seat.

“Hey,” Dean grabbed your hips, stopping your momentum, “That was fun, sweetheart. I love picking you up at bars.” He planted a sweet kiss on your lips.

“And I love going home with you every time,” A smile crept further across your lips with every word and you returned another soft kiss before climbing back into the passenger seat, pulling jeans back over your legs. You slid Dean’s flannel over your shoulders, suddenly chilly without his body to warm yours.

“Come ‘ere,” Dean whispered, gliding his arm around you and pulling you to his chest. His strong heartbeat lulled you into a relaxed state of contentment.

“Let’s go home,” Dean kissed your forehead, “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to sleep until tomorrow afternoon.”

You sighed and nodded as Dean slid his arm out from behind you to put the car in reverse.

“Wait,” You began, “Sam?” Remembering the younger Winchester had walked in with his brother.

“I gave him your keys when you were in the bathroom. He was smart enough not to ask any questions.”

“Ah, of course,” You laughed and laid your head on Dean’s shoulder, ready to go back to the bunker the three of you shared and settle in for the night.

It wasn’t the first time you and Dean pretended to be perfect strangers engaging in an alcohol-fueled one night stand, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. The excitement kept your intense and dangerous life together, killing monsters and exorcizing demons, feeling a bit more like a ‘normal’ relationship, strangely enough.

For now, though, you were happy to be on your way back to the arsenal of the unknown you called home and sleep next to your Dean until tomorrow brought you another creature needing killed.

Join my tag list! Thank you so much for the love ❤️ @this-is-me19

[im-poe-dameron]

CELESTIAL SERENITIES

➔CLONE WARS ARC #01: SUCCIDUOUS

a/n: the bitch is back on the obi-wan whore train and i'm dropping yet another series. basically this was built on the plot of a single sex-pollen one shot with this man and i figured why not add "feelings". i started this way back in early 2021 and was unable to finish it and i honestly think this is the longest i've spent on a single smut story. so i hope you enjoy!

this starts directly before the clone wars and will have several arcs to get to the new show.

summary: once friends, now strangers, you come across obi-wan in a place you certainly didn't expect. only for things to go awry a few hours in.

word count: 9.1k+

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x fem!reader (the name astra is used but it's still reader insert)

warnings: explicit AF SO MINORS GO AWAY, cussing, angst, past feelings coming up, sex-pollen, hair pulling if you squint (on both sides), p in v sex, fingering, alcohol consumption, slight rough sex, creampie, gratuitous description of emotions, unhappy ending.

next chapter | masterlist

“I am never getting that drunk again.”

A saying everyone uses for when they’ve consumed enough alcohol to believe they can literally do anything. You wanted to say the whole night was a blur. That you blacked out somewhere between him finding you and stumbling in your bedroom a few hours later. Except you couldn’t get the images out of your head. They remained stuck, burned behind your eyelids, as the lovely ache between your legs began to show with each slight shift you made in bed.

“I’m never getting that drunk again,” you muttered, too exhausted to use your voice fully and already feeling the comings of a hangover. One that would no doubt have you sprinting out of bed to find a bathroom.

Going back to sleep would help. It would rid your mind of the thoughts that seemed to plague it, only the second you closed your eyes...there it was. Like a holofilm on loop it played and played, seemingly clearer each time. The sounds you made when he touched you, how his skin—radiating warmth—felt against yours.

Damn you for even suggesting a change in drinks. The cooler was enough for both of you and yet something came over you—a certain memory of the both of you getting into trouble. Usually with a bottle of alcohol he had managed to steal from his master’s room.

He had a job to do and drinking with a former friend of his was not the way to do it. What seemed like a good idea at the time now felt like a horrible act to wake up to the very next day. Only eventually you’d have to face the music and get on with it. You just wished you had more time to think things through; an explanation to why you took the drink in the first place.

Turning slowly you settled on the bed even further, exhaling until no more air could possibly remain trapped within your lungs. Yet only a few centimeters away lay the very man you might have made a horrible mistake with. Obi-Wan Kenobi, your old friend from back in the day, slept soundly. His chest rising and falling every few seconds, eyelids fluttering to let you know that he was dreaming.

What you would say when he finally opened those eyes...you had no clue. All you really did know was one simple fact and it was this.

You were fucked.

“We really shouldn’t be here.”

You were sipping at some kind of drink that tasted far too sweet for your taste buds, when you heard the unmistakable voice of someone you knew all too well. At first you thought it was a figment of your imagination. That the drink was stronger than you anticipated and yet there he stood, hair a bit longer than the last time you’d seen him and a beard dusted across his cheeks. It still remained him all the same.

Obi-Wan Kenobi.

If you had the time you would have gone over to him; said hello and went about your night. Only that wasn’t the reason you slouched further in your chair, hood covering your face as you sipped at your drink. The thing was...you had the time. You had all night to do what you wished with whoever you wanted, and that was originally your plan. But then—he had to walk in.

Now all you could think about was getting on your speeder and heading home. It would be a pathetic attempt to keep your past in the past and while it would have been nice to catch up. You knew that the second he saw you—he’d pull out the lightsaber that hung at his side. The anger from your previous encounter was not yet distant enough in time for him to have easily forgotten how you left him. How he gave you everything he could have offered you and you slipped out during the night—leaving nothing behind but a piece of your jewelry from the night before.

To leave now would be an impossible option, due to the fact that he positioned himself to watch the doors with ease. You chose instead to walk over to the bar. Melting into the crowd and finding a spot that wasn’t too close and yet still not too far. Why you felt this need to still be close enough to him was beyond you, and it was something you wouldn’t have been able to explain. Ever since you saw him for the first time all those years ago, you’d felt drawn to him—to who he was on the inside.

Not just a Jedi.

Not just a warrior, but someone who held so much more within than he let people see.

Ordering yet another drink without bothering to get the name, you sipped at it slowly and did your best to keep your heart rate down. If what you remembered was true, then he probably knew you were standing there already. Which meant there would no doubt be an altercation with him. You had to get out of there. Escape out the back, find someplace to go and come back later for your speeder, but you couldn’t move your feet.

“Master should I head back?”

Master?

That was certainly a new thing, but of course things in his life would be vastly different from the last time you’d seen him. Focusing on the reddish hue of your drink you attempted to push away every emotion that seemed to resurface. Each one, even more painful than the last. A Jedi is not allowed to form attachments. His words rang in your ears as if he said them aloud mere moments ago, when in fact it had been years.

At first you wondered if he thought that’s why you left. Why you never came back to him, but things had changed since you last saw one another. For the better in his case it seemed. Watching as the boy you assumed to be his padawan walked out of the entrance of the bar, you downed the rest of your drink and fixed your hood to cover the top half of your face.

Getting out of here was your only option. It had to be.

Passing through the crowd, you moved slowly, trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible and you felt the relief wash over your body as you passed him. That is until something latched tightly onto your upper arm; the grip bordering on almost painful. You yanked on them in the hopes that they were drunk and grabbed you by accident, but as your hood dropped back from your face you met the eyes of your captor.

“Dewdrop.” The nickname was like a stab to your senses, lighting your body on fire and cooling the fear you felt seconds before.

You weren’t sure how to go about this. Obi-Wan still held your arm in a tight grip, almost as if he was making sure you were in fact real. That the person who left him stood before him in the flesh and he wasn’t being tricked by the drink that he had just downed. Allowing yourself to relax into his hold, you watched his eyes take in your attire; drink in the sight of you grown up and different.

The both of you may have changed, but behind the calculated exterior you saw nothing but the boy you had once loved.

Falling into ease once more, your lips curled up into a teasing grin. “What’s the matter Obi-Wan? Loth-cat got your tongue?”

“You’re here.” His face held only one expression; the continued disbelief that he was actually holding onto you.

“You sound disappointed,” you said, taking in the sight of how he looked in the low-lights of the bar. “I was on my way out. If you’d prefer me to go—”

“No.” The quickness of his response left you stunned and it looked as though he felt the same way, because he was quickly letting go of your hand. Giving you space to choose whether you wished to stay or go as he leaned back against the bar. A new drink  behind him, already replacing his finished one.

You blamed the alcohol that began to work its way through your veins for the reason you found yourself stepping next to him. Taking his drink and sipping at it yourself in order to calm the nerves that jumped under your skin. He caught you—knew you were alive—and now there was nothing to do but talk to him. About what? You weren’t sure. Part of you hoped that he’d keep the past in the past and continue on with talks of now, but another small part of you, almost minuscule, wanted to hear what he had to say.

Wanted to apologize for leaving.

“You look well,” he said, flagging down the bartender.

Coughing from the sting of the drink you nodded—rather awkwardly. “So do you.”

You felt as though all conversation had vanished from your repertoire of skills altogether, because you were floundering for what to say. After so long, a simple conversation seemed impossible, and yet you two had managed once before. The lasting memories of the conversations you held together were still ingrained in your mind. You knew it wouldn’t go back to being that simple—no matter how much you hoped for just that to happen.

Mentally you thanked your cloak for covering the symbol on your arm that would have him recoiling from you in disgust. One you hated wearing for that very same reason. Things had changed; you were no longer the innocent girl he once met on Corellia all those years ago, and he was no longer the padawan who would do anything to become a Jedi.

“What are you doing on Coruscant?” he asked, seeing your fingers tap lightly on the empty glass you held like your life depended on it. You were uncomfortable, that much was obvious.

“Hunting.”

He reared back, eyes blinking from slight shock. “Hunting? What do you—” He caught the meaning before he could finish his sentence. “Bounties?” he exclaimed.

Hiding a snort with a cough you tried not to laugh at the sheer disbelief on his face. “You’re acting as if it’s such a horrible thing.”

“How did you end up in that situation?”

You couldn’t fight the smile any longer, because the way he spoke—his tone, expression—it all showed how concerned he was about what you were doing. If only he knew the truth. Except you figured this was merely a friendly catch up, reminiscing on old things of the past before once more moving on with your current lives. That’s why you smiled, why when the bartender finally arrived you placed an order for the best drink they had.

Were you being hasty and jumping into something you should have stayed away from? It would seem so, but when had either of you let things be?

“The best drink or the most expensive?” The bartender asked, a weary look in his eyes from working all day and night.

Obi-Wan interjected, sliding the credits towards him. “The best tasting one you have.”

You didn’t catch it in time, but you would later when the drink had taken its effect. When things were too far gone to turn back. A small glint briefly flashed in the man’s eyes before fading away seconds later—his head nodding in understanding. Surely it meant nothing. Surely you were being paranoid, just as you were taught to do. Always be wary of your surroundings in order to stay alive.

“I could have paid,” you said, attempting to shake off the nerves. Things were drastically unfamiliar between the both of you, and yet you couldn’t shake the fact that this was still Obi-Wan you were talking to.

The one who you whispered your secrets to on long nights together when the moon was the only light source either of you had. When you had clutched onto one another in order to survive the days as he helped his master in any way he could. All the while keeping you a secret. They say Jedi can’t fall in love, that it was forbidden and yet you were sure that in those moments, he loved you more than a person could show through words alone.

“Bounty hunters don’t make much these days,” he said. “Not if you’re working on your own.”

Fighting the urge to cringe you ignored the way your right shoulder practically burned from the insignia that was attached to the outside of your armor. You wouldn’t allow him to think otherwise of your situation. Not at a time like this. It would only cause trouble for the both of you if he was seen being friendly with a bounty hunter that stood on the opposing side.

“Well I’ll pay you back eventually.”

He smiled briefly. “When you have the credits I will take them.”

“I see you’ve gotten yourself a Padawan,” you said, choosing to stray from the topic of your employment. Admitting it to yourself wasn’t easy, but you didn’t want to leave this moment, didn’t wish to go anywhere else tonight now that he’d caught you in his grasp.

“Anakin yes.”

“That’s quite a tone.” While all the memories you harbored of him were when he was a Padawan himself, you still relished in relearning small aspects about this Obi-Wan. How he ran a hand through his beard as he thought about something, how his voice had deepened with age. “Is he a troublemaker?”

Huffing in laughter, he leaned his hip against the bar to face you better. “Trouble it seems is Anakin’s basic instinct.”

The bartender returned holding two glasses of a cerulean liquid that seemed to practically glitter under the lights of the bar. “Two glasses of Chandrillian Blue ‘439.”

Your eyebrows raised at the familiar name. “Chandrillian Blue. Isn’t that expensive?”

He merely offered a smile, setting the crystalline drink down in front of you. “Consider it a gift for a Jedi and his companion.”

Companion.

The word struck a chord in your chest and you opened your mouth to dispute it when Obi-Wan was taking initiative and raising the glass to his nose to smell the wine. “Thank you.”

“I don’t know if it’s safe,” you said under your breath as the bartender moved back towards the end of the bar. “There—”

“Were you always this paranoid Astra?”

There it was. The name that he had yet to say and that too felt like a bolt of lightning striking across your skin. Nearly sending you stumbling backwards as the pain from your past rocketed through your body. What could you do when he was looking at you as if nothing had changed? The same playfulness in his eyes that you had fallen in love with the first time now shone against the light reflecting in them. Reminding you that no matter how much time passed he was still your Obi-Wan, your love.

Clearing your throat you lifted the glass with reckless abandon and tilted it his way in unison to him before downing it in one go. Normally wine you sipped at carefully, letting the taste of it settle over your tastebuds, but this one you didn’t bother with. This one you drank quicker than you had any other liquid and he followed suit.

Your face screwed up from the bitterness that worked its way down your throat, stinging as it went along. “That’s different from how I remember it,” you said, voice hoarse from fighting the urge to cough your lungs out.

He did the same, exhaling sharply. “Yes.” Coughing he grabbed the glass of water that had been left with the drink, gulping it down before pushing the rest your way to finish off. “Although I haven’t had Chandrillain Blue since…”

That night in the forest.

You looked away, pushing the now empty water glass back to the center of the bar. So he did remember the past as clearly as you did. Normally that would have brought joy to your heart—a celebration that you hadn’t left his mind completely, but this...this short display of normalcy between you left your stomach feeling nauseous. How could you stand there, a member of the enemy’s side, and smile with him over drinks?

How could he love you after this?

Choosing not to worry about that fact, you instead focused on the sight of the bar crowd growing slightly smaller as the night hours waned on. The day would be starting in a few short hours, leaving you with only a limited amount of time to spend with him. You wanted to end it on a good note, so without thinking you stood straight and began to head towards the door. Feeling him watch on after you, the crease in his forehead growing.

“Well?” you asked, lifting your hand out towards him. “You coming?”

It was a bad idea to involve himself in feelings like this, even for just one night, but he couldn’t rid himself of the memories that played in his mind. A newer one resurfacing just as quickly once the others faded back. At one point you were vital to his life. You had been his moon in the sky, all his stars and planets combined. The reason he wanted to breathe each and every day, until you became the reason he wanted to forget.

“Do you have anywhere you want to go?” you asked, fighting the smile from crossing your face as he kept your hands entwined.

He shook his head, watching as airspeeders flew overhead. “A walk?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Do you want that?” Heading down a fairly deserted street he walked at a leisure pace so as to keep his attention fixated on you.

You shrugged. “I don’t think it matters much. I’m okay with anything.”

“Dewdrop,” he said, that soft tone of his stirring your insides more than you would have liked.

“There’s plenty of places to go Obi-Wan. I don’t mind where we end up as long...as long as I get to spend some time with you.” The danger of those words weren’t lost on you, but it was too late. They’d been said aloud and there would be no taking them back—not that you wanted too.

He nodded, taking the lead and walking through the street, glancing around every few seconds just to make sure. It wasn’t unlike you to do the same. Keep your senses up in case something were to happen, because while Jedi did remain on this planet you still didn’t put your trust in the Order itself. You would never say that to him though.

“Tell me what you’ve been up to these past few years,” you said, tugging on his arm to cease his footsteps.

A slight wave of dizziness had begun to work its way through your body, but you blamed that on the amount of alcohol you drank. It must be taking effect already. That would explain why you felt so warm all of a sudden. Rather than make a big fuss over nothing you simply pulled the hood away from your face, giving your skin some breathing room.

He led you down an emptier street so he didn’t have to yell over the noise of the city. “I became a Knight and a Master soon after we parted ways.”

Gasping you brought your hand to your mouth. “I couldn’t tell.” It was the small tinkling of laughter that made him smile; a sound he didn’t realize he missed so much. “Tell me Master Kenobi, what’s it like teaching such a bright Padawan?”

“I get into trouble more often than I expected,” he replied.

You nudged his shoulder lightly, ignoring the feverish cold sweat that began to break out on your skin. “Don’t be too hard on him. From what I can remember you were quite a bit of trouble yourself.”

“I don’t remember that being true.”

“Oh you don’t remember?” you asked, biting your lip to smother the smile that wanted to show. “So am I just imagining Qui-Gon nearly having a heart attack when you attempted to climb a tree all to rescue a bird?”

He laughed and your heart swooped in your chest as if it was a bird taking flight. “I remember it was you who asked me to save it.”

“You’re right I did,” you said, unknowingly stroking your thumb against his palm. “I never did ask.”

“What?” Obi-Wan nearly faltered as a roaring surge of pain spread across his body, sending his muscles into shock almost immediately. Except he chose to ignore it, shoving the feeling down until he could focus back on you again. After all it was only his body aching from traveling so much.

“Why did you call me dewdrop?” You wanted to blame the alcohol for loosening your lips; allowing things you would have avoided to come out. “I mean—I never understood the—”

“You were underneath a dewdrop tree the first time I saw you.” He could recall it so clearly, the image of you wearing a dress that looked like it originally belonged on Naboo. Standing beneath the crystalline tree that seemed to make you glow and it was then he found himself—for the first time—unable to find the words to speak.

A fond smile crossed your lips, eyes meeting his, as the dizziness formed even further; settling into your bones until the only thing you could focus on was him. This power of a man who held the ability to either break you even further or love you like he once did. Go home. End this night. The warning bells became fuzzy the longer you stood there, the more the alcohol flowed through your veins.

Leave.

Leave.

Leave.

You tried to grasp onto that one single word, will your body to walk out of the place you were trapped in. Only you felt stuck. As if the very boots you wore were glued down to this desolate street and while any other time you would have panicked at the sensations that swept through your body, now you felt calm. More at peace than you had felt since you watched him walk into the bar. The bells eventually grew silent, the words fading to the back of your lust addled mind, allowing for something else to set in entirely.

You wanted him. More than you realized.

“Obi-Wan,” you murmured, eyes trailing down his face. Drinking in his features until you settled on the sight of his parted lips. You didn’t notice that he started to breathe heavier, that his eyes were dilated—the blue nearly being swallowed whole by his pupil—or that he too settled on simply staring at your lips.

“Astra,” he breathed, a strange feeling began settling into the very marrow of his bones. One he hadn’t felt since the last time he laid eyes on you and suddenly the image was very clear to him now.

The girl he once loved, nearly gave up everything for, stood before him now as the woman who still held a tight grip on his heart. Shining just as brightly as when he’d seen you last—standing beneath a dewdrop tree.

The dizziness passed—when, you couldn’t remember—only to be replaced by something else. A burning sensation that stemmed from the very core of your body, spreading until you felt like you were surely on fire. Was this merely a dream? Were you being burned alive somewhere and you chose to remain here with Obi-Wan on your last day? You wondered if you were delirious, only you couldn’t tell. You could barely grasp onto a single thought, because all you saw was him.

Watching you with a look that made your skin tingle and your breath catch.

“Would you like a black caf?”

His dazed look vanished for a split second as he came back to his own mind briefly. Long enough to comprehend your words. “I–I’d love one. I’m afraid the alcohol is—” he trailed off, eyes back on you.

“Getting to you?” you asked, forcing your body to take one step back and then another. Eventually it became easier to walk down the street, but the urge to press against him—to remind yourself what kissing him felt like—popped into your head every few seconds.

Caffeine. That would set your mind straight.

If anything it would give you a few moments to figure out what exactly happened in the span of thirty minutes. What did you drink that made your mind suddenly lose all control of your urges?

The both of you fell into yet another comfortable silence with only the sounds of the city echoing around you. A part of you wanted to smile at what was happening. You and him walking the streets of a city once more with no need to speak, because you already knew what would be said. The words were practically ingrained into your souls. Whispered promises that never seemed to pan out. Dreams of loving one another until the galaxy itself fell to ruin.

Neither of you knew that only one of those things would turn out to be the truth.

You were both young. Far too young to realize what giving up things meant and what it was to love so deeply that it felt as if your very soul was torn from your body when it ended. Lessons learned, memories forgotten. An old saying your mother used to say when you were a child made so much sense to you now as you walked beside him.

Years too late.

He followed you into the building you found a room to stay at, his head bowed in thought with every step he took. It came to a point where you began to feel worried he would leave. Forget this ever happened and move on. While it would rip you to shreds, it might be easiest for him. A simple act of revenge for what you had done to him so long ago.

“It’s not the good kind of caf,” you said, startling him slightly. “But it’ll help take the edge off from the alcohol.”

He nodded, eyes wide—almost childlike in his expression—as he entered your room. Truly there was nothing to be amazed at. The bed was a standard mattress found at all hotels on the planet, with a white cover and silver pillows. A table sat near the window with a small lamp placed on top and a comfortable chair if someone wished to work. Extremely mundane for a hotel room that cost far too many credits. Although in your opinion you’d have to say the best part of this place was the shower and the HoloTV.

“The room is…”

“Shitty?”

He smiled, the tension leaving his shoulders slightly. “It’s nice. There’s not much in here though.”

“That’s okay I’m not staying for very long,” you replied. “Just here for the hunt and then…” You were gone.

The realization had yet to set in with either of you. This was it. One night of talking, of spending as many moments together as possible, before you returned to your lives. Him to something far bigger, far more important, and you to a place that saw him as the enemy.

“I wanted to say—”

“Obi-Wan—” Huffing into your cup you tried to fight the smile, but whatever got into your system forced it out. “You go first.”

He took a sip of his drink, glancing out the window at the sight of the city skyline still lit up. It had always been a sight he found comfort in, one he knew to be home, but now...sitting beside you in this too small room he realized that he hadn’t felt whole until he found you in the bar. A missing piece of him now settled back into place and he wished to hold onto it for as long as humanly possible.

Even if only for one night.

“Jedi aren’t supposed to have attachments, but…I fear that I have missed you.”

You weren’t exactly sure how you should take his words, but then almost inexplicably that rush of emotions returned. When it was coupled together with the mess from earlier it made for a dangerous combination. One you would have done everything to fight against, but before you could argue anymore with your mind you were raising a hand to cup his cheek. The soft scratch of his beard felt different against the skin of your palm. A good different you found yourself fond of within seconds.

“Obi-Wan you have no idea…” you whispered, feeling yourself lean into his body. Seeking out the warmth that emitted from him, only heightening the drunkenness of your mind—your body.

This was a mistake.

Possibly the biggest one you would make since leaving him, but nothing could stop you now. Not when your mind had settled on one single thing. You missed him, craved him, loved him through all those years you were away. You blamed the intoxicating way he talked, how he held himself—so grown up compared to the young padawan you once knew—and how he still looked at you as if you were all his stars in the galaxy.

The very moon in his sky.

“My beautiful dewdrop,” he breathed, his lips a hair's breadth from yours and once again the anticipation, the overwhelming rawness of it all, got to you.

Pulling him closer you sealed your lips over his, feeling your stomach bottom out as the heat you’d been pushing down for so long came flooding back into your system. Shoving you forward until you were nothing but a mess of wanton need. You ached for something to quench the fire in your veins and it seemed the cure sat mere inches away.

You half expected him to yank himself away from you. Apologize for what happened and leave, and that’s what shocked you most. He didn’t pull back. Instead he seemed to melt into your touch, sighing into your slightly open mouth as he kissed you back. A hand went to the back of your neck, gripping tightly to keep you in place before he truly started kissing you.

Nothing quite compared to the way he devoured you with his lips. How he kissed you as if he was poisoned and your taste was the antidote he needed to survive. A small sound escaped your throat which he swallowed happily, licking at the bottom of your lip until you were desperate to taste him again. The haze set in over your mind, leaving you victim to the powers of the alcohol just as it did him. There was no more contemplation. No more fighting.

You wanted him, needed him, just as he did you.

Gasping when his tongue slid against yours, you felt his fingers dig into the skin of your neck right when you shoved your hands into his hair. Keeping him in place whilst he explored you for the first time in ages. You could kiss him for an eternity if given the chance, but the fire was spreading quickly. Bringing a surge of uncomfortable pain with it.

“Obi-Wan,” you sighed, tilting your head back to allow his lips to trail towards your neck. Deft fingers unlatched your cloak without your noticing, but you didn’t mind one bit.

Not when it felt this good to be in his hands again.

“Yes?” he asked, scraping his teeth lightly along your jaw and smiling when your body shivered into his touch.

You couldn’t remember him being this sensual and sure about himself. Except that might have been the lust clouding your thoughts the longer you remained there, allowing him to do what he wished with you. It’s when his lips met yours again and his fingers found the opening to strip you of your clothes and armor did you give yourself over to the cloud of mind numbing pleasure.

Each touch replaced the fire with a cooling sensation, giving you relief for the briefest of moments before it was back. Reminding you that only he could satiate the ever growing pain that spread faster than a real flame. Yanking the top of your armor off along with the shirt, you wrapped your arms around his neck, climbing—albeit clumsily—into his lap. A position he was more than happy to accommodate for.

“Every—” he gasped at the feeling of your teeth scraping along his throat. “Every day. I thought about you.”

The haze in your mind spurred your motions, but it was something deeper within you that had you reaching for the tie of his tunic—something carnal buried inside your chest. It begged you to set it free and you were more than willing. Kissing up his neck, you moan when he turned his head to capture your lips in another searing kiss that you swore you felt down to your toes.

Once more, you tugged on his tunic, adamant on getting it off and he seemed to catch on quickly—pulling away from your tantalizing lips to assist you. It wasn’t until your palms connected with his bare chest, did you finally feel satisfied, because beneath his skin you felt the ever so steady beat of his heart. You could remember laying together beneath the dewdrop trees on your home world, listening to his heart beat as he pointed out the different planets in the sky—all the places he wanted to take you.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, sucking on the shell of his ear and smiling when a shudder went down his spine.

How long had he upheld the Jedi code? How long since he felt the intimate touch of another human being?

Pressing against his chest, you pushed him until he moved—laying on his back and looking up at you with wonder in his eyes. The sight of his lips swollen and spit slicked from you biting against them had your walls clenching around nothing. For years you’d imagined what it would be like to see him again. Would he even remember you? Yet there he was, his hands gripping onto your hips as you leaned down closer to take his bottom lip into your mouth, sucking it slowly and pulling at it to hear that soft groan you’d dreamt about.

Letting go of his lip, you kissing his cheek, chin, moving slowly down his body—your lips dragging along every new scar he had acquired since you’d been away. Placing a soft kiss over his heart, you felt the stuttered breath in his chest as he watched you, knowing what this meant for the both of you.

You weren’t the only one who craved to be back in his life, you weren’t the only one who dreamt of the memories you shared together. He had longed for it all the same.

“Dewdrop,” he gasped, his head falling back as you trailed your lips along the edge of his pants—a wrecked moan tearing from his throat.

“My beautiful Jedi,” you cooed, scraping your nails along his sides and smiling when he jolted at the feeling.

He lifted his head, striking blue eyes meeting yours and you felt it. A drastic shift as the steady burning turned into something worse, until you could feel your body begging for some relief. Obi-Wan’s hand grasped onto your upper arm, practically dragging you forward until you were above him. His fingers worked quickly, tearing at your shirt and helping you yank it off until his palm rested on the bare skin of your sternum.

A shuddered breath left your lips, your eyes fluttering shut as he explored the blank canvas of your skin—his fingertips running over your new scars, copying your movements. The simple touches did nothing to satiate the agonizing burn that flooded your veins, but you didn’t give a shit. Not when you hadn’t felt his touch in years—when you had dreamed of this very moment for so long.

“Fuck,” you whined, head dropped forward until your forehead pressed against his. “I—I need.”

“I know, I know.” His voice was hoarse, pupils nearly taking up his entire iris now. “Me too.”

Scrambling for the button of his pants as he did the same to yours, you kissed him. Your tongue sliding against his felt euphoric in a way it never had before and you began to unconsciously grind against the very apparent bulge in his pants. Neither of you had any sense left in your bodies—otherwise this wouldn’t be happening. You continued to wonder if this was merely a dream. Would you wake up alone, stuck in another memory? Obi-Wan sat up, his hand dipping beneath the waistband of your pants as his other one gripped your hair to yank your head back.

With his teeth nipped along your neck and his fingers sliding into your slick, you knew you’d never be able to leave him again. He groaned when he felt how you nearly drenched his hand. “All this is for me?” he asked, breathlessly—almost in utter disbelief.

“Yes,” you whined. “Only you.”

The sound of approval he made had your hips moving faster, grinding against his fingers as something began to build up in your body. You felt the tightening in your stomach the longer he allowed this to happen—happily sucking at the skin above your collarbone. Whether he was in pain or not wasn’t clear to you, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it, because he was shoving you towards the edge of absolute bliss.

“Obi—” Burying your face into his neck, you clawed at his bare back and with every shift of your hips you felt the pleasure mount even higher. “Maker,” you gasped, your eyes rolling back.

“What do you need?” he asked, the pain in his voice prominent.

“More! I need more.” The words came out as a beg, but it spurred his movements.

Within seconds he slid two fingers into you, cupping your chin to drag your lips back to his and swallow the wail you let out. It wouldn’t take you long at all to reach your peak, but something kept you right on the edge—prolonging your pain. Breathing in, you fought against whatever drug had entered your veins, and focused on the man in front of you.

His eyebrows were furrowed, teeth digging into his bottom lip in concentration as he pumped his fingers at a brutal pace. Yet he never looked so beautiful to you. His hair was unruly, some of it falling into his eyes and the sight left you ravenous. The flushed look on his face was enough to have your heart racing even faster, the emotions building right alongside the pressure in your body. With a jolt you realized—you loved him. You would always love him.

“I—” Choking, you felt a shock go through your entire body, white flashing behind your tightly shut eyes while your toes curled at the sensation.

With a triumphant smile, Obi-Wan pressed even harder on the spongy spot along your walls, enjoying the way you practically screamed with every thrust. You could barely move your hips anymore, let alone tell him how you felt. He pressed his forehead to yours, lips brushing along your own as spoke. Only you never figured out what he said, because he had dragged his other hand down—now toying with your clit to shove you right where he wanted you.

A scream tore from your throat, your body shaking as his hand sped up—the echo of your slick filling the room. Pleasure and pain collided and suddenly you couldn’t tell if you were floating or about to collapse. The fire from before faded slightly, simmering beneath the surface. Even though it was far from over. It gave a few seconds of reprieve, the sparks that shot along your skin felt like cold water dousing out the pain. You could feel your lips moving, a chant echoing in the small room and suddenly it hit you.

You were saying his name.

“Obi-Wan,” you breathed, some movement coming back to your body. “I should have never left you.”

He smiled, grimacing as the pain punched him in the stomach—shoving the air from his lungs. “I—I wouldn’t have been able to remain with you. Jedi aren’t…” he trailed off, the sadness in his eyes enough to remind you of a phrase you both knew all too well.

“I know.”

Jedi weren’t able to form attachments and yet this right here would keep the two of you attached for years to come.

It went against the code for so many reasons, but neither of you wished to acknowledge it at this time. You couldn’t. Not when you spent so long attempting to forget about him and everything you could have had together.

Just as you were prepared to get off him, the familiar agony from earlier returned stronger than before, nearly forcing you to double over in pain. Something was in the drink the bartender had given you. You were sure of it. But neither of you could take the time to figure out exactly what, because you were spiraling—gasping for air and wishing that it would stop altogether. 

What kind of maddening person took this type of drug just for the sake of taking it?

“Fuck!” you cried out.

Instantly, you fumbled for his pants that hung open around his waist, except it seemed like he was a step ahead of you. Dragging yours down, he moaned loudly when your hand wrapped around his cock. Your mouth parted at the sight of it so red and swollen, almost like he was ready to burst at any moment. It sent a streak of heat down your spine as you came to the realization that this man had probably upheld the Jedi code better than anyone else—especially after you left.

How many years had it been for him since he felt the delicious pleasure of release? How long had he yearned for it? You couldn’t even fathom the answers, because suddenly you suddenly felt empty—the need to be filled by him overtaking your want for logic.

“I need you inside of me.” Getting up on shaky legs, you shoved the rest of your clothes off until they were a pile on the floor, and watched enraptured as he did the same.

There'd be no coming back from this, no way to forget that this ever happened in the future like you’d done before. You didn’t wish to either way.

Something must have shifted in your expression. The want—the desperation for him—cracking the surface of your walls to reveal the emotions you tried so hard to tamper down. He stood, stepping closer to you even though he grimaced with every shift of his body. You were both in pain, both nearing the end of losing your sanity because of this and yet…you still clutched at the last thread of patience. It was your lifeline the longer you watched him.

You knew once you let go—gave into the lust—you’d forget about the worries, about what waking up beside him would be like.

His hand cupped your cheek, drawing your lips to his in a saccharine kiss that invaded your senses. It felt like too much, and yet not enough to satiate the feelings that crept up the back of your neck, reminding you of what you had to lose. His other hand clutched at your bare waist, the groan he let out being swallowed by you as you licked into his mouth. The taste of him, so different from your past, yet eerily familiar.

This was too tender for your reeling mind and it broke your heart to part from him. Only the pain had now reached a point where you couldn’t ignore it anymore. Your knees buckled, a whimper tearing from your throat as he caught you in his hold.

“Obi…”

He nodded, the redness in his neck and face showing you that he felt the same. Except as a Jedi he’d grown used to hiding pain, shoving it all down until he felt numb to it all. He couldn’t do that here. Not when he felt like he’d burst the second you touched him.

A shudder wracked your body when his lips trailed down your throat, intent on hearing you moan for him again, as he helped you shift to the bed. You hit the mattress with a small oof as he followed. Your legs wrapping around his waist felt like second nature, but it was his cock dragging through your soaked pussy that had you digging your face into his neck and begging.

“Oh fuck—Oh Maker that’s so…so amazing,” you managed to choke the words out.

Sparks trailed down your spine as he quickly dragged his hips forward, pressing his swollen head against your clit and groaning when your nails clawed down his back. You could barely get words out, let alone sounds and he wasn’t even inside you yet. Somehow you knew by the end of this you’d be a mess of emotions. But you could care less, because he was lining himself up with your entrance, his head dropping down to your shoulder as he pushed in.

A long dragged out moan tore from your throat at the feeling of him slowly stretching your walls. The fire consumed you entirely, singing your nerves until all you could feel was this. The sting of his cock breaching your entrance while he panted hotly against your neck and whispered praises.

“You feel so good.” He pulled back slightly, thrusting shallowly with each inch he gave you and it was it’s own kind of torture. “Fuck I-I could barely remember our last night…” Cutting himself off with a broken moan when his hips finally met yours, he tried to bring some sense back to his mind.

“Move,” you begged, hand scrambling for purchase on his skin. “Please Obi…fuck I need you to—”

He pulled out, shoving himself back to the hilt and effectively punching the air out of your lungs. A sob echoed off the walls, your walls clenching down so tightly around his cock that he nearly collapsed on top of you. That simple movement snapped your final thread of patience in half. You couldn’t keep holding back the pain, because the antidote was him—this, the continued feel of him thrusting into you with the same ravenous hunger as you.

Moaning unabashedly, you hooked your ankles together behind his back, attempting to draw him in even deeper. Except you weren’t the only one desperate for this. Every snap of his hips against yours was echoed with a growl tearing from his throat, his eyes zeroed in on each expression you made. He watched you with an intensity you didn’t know he had—studied what made you tick with every movement he made. Dipping down, his lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking on it with his teeth to cause your whole body to jolt.

The fire singed your lungs with each breath you took, nearly suffocating you. But that didn’t stop the words from spilling free. You felt your lips move before you could stop them, because he couldn’t know…not like this.

“Obi!” you sobbed, hands digging into his hair to drag his lips to yours. It was a clashing of teeth and tongue as he sped up his thrusts, the head of his cock dragging just right along your walls and drawing a stuttered moan from your lips. “Right there—fuck right…oh—”

“Right there?” he asked, the brief flash of a smug smile showing before he was slotting his lips against yours and groaning into your mouth.

You could feel something begin to build up in your stomach, the tightening of your muscles were simply adding to the painful pleasure. His thrusts stuttered when you clenched around his cock and yet he still continued. Hitting the spot along your walls with enough accuracy to make your toes curl and your eyes to roll back. You wouldn’t last long, but you silently begged for this maddening euphoria to keep going.

“I wanted to stay.” The words slipped free against your better judgment. 

His eyes snapped to yours. “What?” he rasped, slowing down until you were digging your nails into the skin of his ass to make him keep going.

“I wanted to—ah—stay with you. I wanted to be with you.”

You weren’t sure how much time went by between you confessing your darkest secret and him reacting, but it felt like mere seconds. A broken moan tore from his chest—his eyes fluttering shut as he kissed you with enough emotion to make your heart shatter. You wanted to be with him, then, now…whenever he would have you. Tears fell into your hair as he continued moving, his hands grasping for yours and shoving them up—pressing them into the mattress.

“I would have gone with you anywhere,” he gasped against your lips—the steady echo of skin against skin and your slick were a steady echo that bounced off the walls. It only made you tighten around him even more. “I’d have given up everything for you…”

A scream left you as those words coupled with the coarse hair around his cock grinding into your clit snapped the pressure inside of you. A flood of absolute bliss filled your trembling body until you couldn’t see straight. Your walls clamped down on his cock, the heat of your pussy driving him to the edge right along with you, causing his hips to stutter. Sobbed out words filled the air, telling him how much you loved him, how you wished things were different.

He returned them with words of his own. Groaning your name against your neck, he finally let go. The warmth of his cum filled you, satiating the fire that began to slowly dissipate and even then you didn’t want him to stop. Even as he remained inside you—his cock twitching each time your walls contracted around him, the combined mixture of your cum together spilling out and coating the tops of his thighs—you wished he would stay. If only things were different, this wouldn’t feel like a mistake when you woke up.

“My love,” he breathed against your throat, his lips kissing along your skin. “My beautiful sweet Astra.”

Even though it wasn’t your true name, being called his star always held you tight in his grasp. You kept the name solely because of him; a reminder of what you couldn’t have—what you gave up. Yet it sounded so sickeningly sweet coming from his lips. Like the aftertaste of his kiss, it was something you clutched against your chest—afraid it would escape you one day.

“I meant what I said.” He stated the words with so much intent, as if he wasn’t still balls deep inside of you and that thought alone made you smile.

“You did?”

He nodded, the soft brush of his hair against your forehead filled your chest with warmth. “I would have given up all of it.”

“Obi-Wan,” you whispered, drawing his eyes up to yours. “I could never have asked you to do that.”

“But—”

“Being a Jedi is who you were meant to be. Our paths weren’t meant to be walked together.” The both of you knew this to be true, but it still didn’t make hearing it any easier.

Rather than discuss something that would bring back the heartache from earlier, you simply kissed him. Feeling the pain begin to lick its way up your body again. It would be a long night and an even longer morning, but some twisted part of you felt safe in knowing you’d get to spend it with him. Obi-Wan, the man who you belonged to the moment you met him underneath that crystalline dewdrop tree all those years ago.

Sighing, you opened your eyes to feel not only an aching in your head—the makings of a hangover starting—but a deep ache in your lower body. For hours the two of you had fucked until you practically passed out from utter exhaustion. Somehow at one point you ended up on the floor, on your knees as he gripped you from behind—the raw skin of your legs telling you enough. Every moment of the night played through your mind as you stared at Obi-Wan, dead asleep beside you.

While the drug in your system had worn off, the feelings still remained prominent. Every word you said, every submission of the truth you set free, all came back to haunt you as guilt filled your veins. There’d be no possibility of staying with him. So, why did you bother entertaining the idea to begin with? No, he’d go back to the Jedi Order—train his padawan and eventually move on with his life. It’s how his life was meant to go.

“Okay…” you whispered. The time to leave was now, before he woke up and demanded answers of what happened last night.

Shifting slowly, you managed to untangle yourself from his arms without waking him—your feet touching the ground as you quickly shoved down every inkling of guilt away. You shouldn’t feel broken about leaving him here again. Even though it was your room, you knew that eventually he’d wake up and go, in need of finding his padawan. Last night was a one time thing and the consequences were something you didn’t wish to bear.

Not now.

You gathered your clothes, silently putting them on and reattaching your cloak, before you took one last look at him. He lay on his stomach, the red scratch marks on his back proof that last night was not a dream, and his hair a mess. You’d never be able to come back here—at least not for a long time. Except it was a risk you were willing to take if it meant finally healing after all the pain you put yourself through. After all, he was a Jedi—a guardian—and that meant more than any love he could give to you.

Leaning down, you pressed your lips to his gently so as not to disturb him. The sting of tears as they fell down your cheeks, reminding you of the last time you did this to him. Rather than leave behind a piece of your jewelry, you left behind a piece of yourself—all the shattered pieces you could no longer carry with you. Their weight had grown too heavy after all these years and you knew…they��d be safe with him. 

They say time heals all wounds, but this one you knew would remain bleeding. A fresh reminder of what you could have had. 

“I love you Obi-Wan,” you breathed, walking towards the door and drawing the hood back up around your face.

Leaving behind the serenity you’d been searching blindly for your entire life. 

[lewkwoodnco]

Hey hello, can I get a fanfic of the reader (either female or gender neutral,) of Lockwood having a nightmare and sort of freaking out, and the reader is passing his door to get something from the kitchen, so she wakes him up and comforts him.

I love fanfiction where you take care of them but they are so hard to find. Base it on 'Safe and Sound's, please.

Take your time and feel free to ignore, I hope you a happy time

Safe and Sound - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: 'I hope you a happy time' is genuinely the cutest thing I've read in a while!!! hope you enjoy the fic!!!!! <3 Side note: might I recommend this author on ao3? I randomly stumbled across her fics a few days ago and I think she does hurt/comfort amazingly!!! wc: 2k

She woke with her throat feeling like sandpaper and groaned miserably. She was so delightfully cosy in her bed that the only thing that could relax her even more was a refreshing glass of water. A refreshing glass of water that was all the way in the kitchen. After groaning about it for a while, she slipped on her dressing grown and padded downstairs.

She stumbled down the corridor half-asleep until something caught her attention. She paused, blinking blearily, straining her ears. She heard it again. A faint rustling, a gentle thump, and more rustling, coming from Lockwood's room.

She knocked. No response. She knocked more insistently. Still no response. She placed her hand on the doorknob and hesitated. She had not seen much of his room, given how little time he spent there. Entering his room would be crossing over an imaginary threshold in their relationship. Another thump came, louder this time, and she screwed her eyes shut, twisting the doorknob.

Lockwood was tossing in his sleep, his back muscles spasming in the harsh fluorescent light of the hallway. His head occasionally bumped into his headboard, and he seemed locked in an intense internal battle. She looked around, carelessly and noisily switching his bedside lamp on, shaking him awake. She felt as though she would never forget the haunted look in those brown eyes as he was jerked awake.

"Hey, hey, it's me. Deep breaths."

He choked, shielding his eyes from the light. Some strange urge to protect this gaunt, nervous boy swelled up inside of her, and her fingers reached out to brush back the lank hair plastered to his forehead. His face was clammy and throbbing under her fingertips, but her touch seemed to soothe the emotional turbulence building up and crashing down inside of him.

It made her stomach turn to see Lockwood shaken to his very core. Even as his breaths began to even out, his fingers would twitch as he nervously smoothed the sheets while his eyes maintained a dull yet ever-present panic. Lockwood, who was forever self-assured and charismatic, reduced to a trembling, anxious mess. In the quiet of the night, surrounded by long, grotesque metaphorical and literal shadows that hovered at the corner of her eye...it was easy to feel scared.

A similar kind of twisting and writhing had possessed him earlier that night. They were at an old house, tackling two suspected Type Twos. She had noticed the funny look that had crossed Lockwood's face as soon as they stepped in, and she could tell why: the house was an almost exact replica of 35 Portland Row (minus the newspaper clippings gushing over Lockwood littering the walls).

The case proceeded like any other, with Lucy, George and Lockwood all in different rooms while she went around checking in on them. As the clock ticked its way to midnight, Lockwood had grown steadily increasingly pale.

"You all right, Lockwood?" The last time she had seen him, he had been restlessly pacing the room, but she had just put that down to a surplus of nervous energy. Now, he still had that uneasy air about him, but seemed particularly fascinated, or haunted, by the stack of boxes in the far corner of the room. There was an unhealthy pallour on his face as he spun around as if struck from behind at her voice, taking a few moments to scrounge up a coherent response.

"I'm fine." The stress on his face briefly abated, and his usual charming smile flickered, but she was not wholly convinced. Still, Lockwood seemed sufficiently adamant that nothing was wrong, and she was too paranoid to leave George and Lucy alone for too long. So it was against her better judgement that she warily leaned back, weight shifting on her feet as she turned to leave.

"Wait!" The fear that had been knitted into every crease of his face re-emerged, breaking through his cool facade. She turned back and closed the door in a heartbeat, resolutely deciding to stay with him. "Don't leave me here...alone. Please."

And so she had sat next to Lockwood, cross-legged, both of them leaning against a wall. She didn't feel pressured to make conversation because he was clearly dealing with some sort of suppressed emotions or memories that this room pulled out in him. Some muscle would tense, or his breath would suddenly draw up short, and he would be suspended in that tension for a few moments, until the tension eased and the cycle repeated itself. It was an exhausting sight to see, even without the threat of the Type Two looming over their heads.

Suddenly, they had heard a high-pitched whizzing and then the sound of a small explosion. She reached the window first, terror settling in her heart as she watched George dodge the Type Two by the skin of his teeth all over the salt bomb as he hazardously tossed salt bombs at it. She heard Lucy yell from somewhere and then there was a bigger explosion, and she felt rather than saw the flames leaping into the night sky. Lockwood was still struggling to peer out the low, tiny window with that same nervous energy coursing through his veins. She pulled him away by his coat.

"No- don't. It's not worth it." She had to say something, do something, give him something to obsess over instead of the very real fear that was beginning to take hold of her. "We need to find the Source, they can manage the visitor. Whatever you do, don't look outside." He looked like he wanted to argue but she shushed him before he could. "I mean it, don't. Just listen to me for once, please?" Lockwood certainly didn't look happy about it, but George had just let off yet another salt bomb in the span of a minute. They didn't have much time.

The anxiety had returned, if it ever truly left, if the way he was fumbling with the drawers was any indication. Her heart panged distantly. "Lockwood." He jerked his head in some sort of flimsy acknowledgement. "You'll be alright." He didn't look like he believed her, but it was enough for him to gather himself.

Now, that same tension seemed to resurface, pulling him under. As his disorientation (and claims of being fine when he was so obviously not) subsided, his panic remained. Yet, she watched the telltale signs form of him putting on a front of strength or normalcy: the way his spine stiffened, the forced blankness of his features, the locking of his limbs. It was so irritatingly familiar that she hated herself for ever falling for it before.

"You didn't look quite right, today. At the house."

"Oh, yes. It looked a bit like -?"

"Yeah, I noticed."

"The room we were in. It...it looked like Jessica's." He inhaled and his eyes fluttered shut, as if the next words were being ripped from his mouth. "And I was having terrible, awful thoughts, that that was all that would be left of this...of us...some day."

In the dim light of his ancient lamp, Lockwood never looked like a misshapen, out-of-place limb of the house more than he did right now. Forever tied to the place he yearned to escape yet couldn't bear leave, it was as though the walls had consumed him and he was now part of the silent shadows. They sat quietly for a while, both of their minds racing each other, struggling to keep up, let alone get ahead. He shifted, and he looked up. She saw him trying to force something out, but most of his words were swallowed up by his panicked gasps and delirium.

"If...if you-" he wheezed brokenly, and she felt her heart stop. "I mean, you don't have to, but if you, um -"

"Spit it out."

"I wouldn't mind if you...stayed."

It took her a second to wade through her confusion. When she thought about it, she realised how normal it would have been for her to briefly console Lockwood before returning to bed herself. He probably expected it, and rightfully so. But sitting next to him, his body shivering from some invisible fever...leaving was the last thing she wanted. She hated that that wasn't something immediately obvious, and the need to let him know in some way, any way, rubbed something raw into her liver. She slipped her tentative hand into his limp one, registering the roughness of his palm for a split second, before her fingers curled and rested on the back of his hand, wrapping themselves around his hand the way she wished she could cocoon him.

"In my head...you..." he scratched at his pillow with an expression that left a hollow ache inside of her. "You were gone. I drove you away. I tried, I tried..." His voice reeked of some desperation that made her feel physically ill. "I tried to get you to stay but, for some reason, it just...wasn't that simple."

"Oh, please. It's so like you to think you're the one thing that could get me to leave. You think you can get rid of me that easy? You're stuck with me." But her attempt at lightening the situation was too weak against the oppressive silence in the room. She swallowed the lump growing in her throat, willing her spirits to stay buoyant enough for the both of them. "I'll never let you go."

"Promise?"

His eyes were uncharacteristically dull, heavy with tears unshed, and she didn't dare breathe too hard lest they fall and the hole inside him gaped and became devastatingly real. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. As someone who was always so smooth, so confident, larger than life, it was easy to forget how young he truly was, and how alone he had been for so long. Suddenly, her hand in his was no longer enough; it could never be enough for her to express how much he meant to her. How much she needed him, breathing, thrumming and living next to her.

She slipped an arm around his waist and cautiously placed her head in the crook of his neck, but then he shifted and wrapped his arms around her, artificially casual, while he gripped her shoulders desperately. His cotton shirt smelled of starch but the curls at the nape of his neck, tickling her nose, smelt distinctly of him. It was now os much more intimate, so much easier to share and ease emotional burdens they were both weary from carrying. That weird detachment she had been wrestling with over seeing her employer being so fragile and come undone finally dissolved, and all that she was holding in her arms was Lockwood; Lockwood with his sharp edges and soft spots and gloriously sensitive heart.

"I used to have horrible insomnia when I was younger."

"Mhm?"

"Yeah. My parents tried everything, but it was never an issue of me being tired. Oh, my eyes could be gritty with sleep and I would still not go to bed. I couldn't. It was the night that was just so...awful."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, it's fine, I grew out of it. My mum- " She stopped short, suddenly painfully aware of how little she knew about her mother now. "My mum...she used to tell me that all the hours of misery of the nighttime were washed away by the first rays of the sunrise. It made the night feel less...repulsive. Just a promise of a better time. Of sunlight."

She lifted her hand from Lockwood's clavicle, tracing a scar that dipped to his chest, feeling his heart vibrate against her.

"We've been through so many long, difficult nights. We have even more to live through. But..." She placed her hand where his neck met his shoulder, and he leaned his cheek against the top of her head. "We'll get through it all. Morning's waiting for us just at the edge of our fears."

[officerrrfriendly]

More To The Story, chapter three.

psycho killer, qu'est-ce que c'est?

Chapter One Chapter Two

Saturday, 4th November 1992.

Finley's perspective

Finley bopped his head along to the catchy beat of 'Psycho Killer' by Talking Heads as he sat up against the headboard of his bed, pondering. It had been about twenty minutes since you had abruptly ended the 3-hour phone call to head to work because you were MAJORLY late. In this extensive phone call, you had discussed many theories about the eerie, suspicious video which you and Finley believed to be related to Tommy's disappearance and had even shown Tommy himself - so you believe -, a shaved head, blindfolded with a bloody nose.

It had approximately been 5 days since Tommy had gone MIA, and during the entirety of those 5 days, the residents of the town had been truly shaken up and skittish. This never happened here, in Drellington- it was just a quaint, isolated town...right?

With an extremely low crime rate and a very trusted and secure police department, it was safe to say that the disappearance of little Tommy Parker came as a huge surprise to the town in its totality.

"So what the hell is going on?" He murmured, pushing his black-framed glasses back up the bridge of his nose, sighing as his eyes squeezed shut.

He was at a loss. How could all of this just be going under the radar? How is it that HE had stumbled across this horrific video and not the police? How is it that your laugh was just the sweetest-

"Finnie Bear!!" a pitchy voice called from downstairs, interrupting his lengthy train of thought. It was his aunt Maureen. "Finnie Honey?! Tea is ready, come n'join us in the dining room!" she continued to call once more, before retreating back to the dining room where she had previously been setting up with knives, forks and plates.

You see, Finley's Mom had never been around- ever since she had skipped town and dumped him on her brother Howard's doorstep carelessly when he was only 4 months old, hoping to finally catch her big break in Hollywood.

He knew remotely nothing about her, and most of the time he was fine with that. Although he got on alright most of the time without thinking about her...sometimes, when he lay awake at night in bed, unable to sleep for whatever reason...he thought about her and why she had to leave him behind, why she had denied the chance to start her new life in California with him.

He never wanted to feel that kind of refusal again, so...he shut most people out. His circle remained fairly small throughout the entirety of his high school experience, with his only friends being from the school band and the computer science club. And in all honesty, he liked it that way. He was happy with the few friends that he did have.

But somehow, even with his aunt, uncle, and friends present in his life...he still felt like a piece of him was still missing, he still felt empty.

Finally deciding to get out of his own head for a few minutes, he decided to get up from his bed and proceed downstairs, shouting "Coming!!"

He sat timidly at the dining table, his Aunt sitting opposite him with his Uncle Howie beside her. Picking up the knife from the table where it had been precisely put, along with the fork next to it and began cutting into the juicy chicken breast on his plate.

Howard speaks first, "So...who was that girl on the landline earlier? You got a secret girlfriend we don't know about now?" his tone teasing, but definitively curious. Finley nearly choked on the piece of chicken he had in his mouth before chewing it promptly and swallowing. "What girl? I have literally no idea what you're talking about." He questioned with the pitch of his voice coming out higher than usual- a universal indicator that he was indeed, lying.

Maureen's eyes lit up, "A girl!! that's new, what does she look like? where did you meet her-" RRIIINGGGGG!! RRRRIINGGG!! the telephone attached to the kitchen wall began to sound with shrill rings, and in that moment Finley felt as if God himself had spared him from the interrogative questions of his Aunt and Uncle.

"Ooh, let me go and answer that," Maureen voices, excusing herself from the dining table before heading out into the kitchen. "Hayes residence, how may I help you? Oh...pardon? I'm sorry, may I ask who's calling?... Hello?" Maureen places the phone back into place on the wall, her expression puzzled. She approaches the dining room table and speaks, "Someone started shouting at me in Russian on the damn phone, pardon my language- that's odd, right?"

Finley types away on his keyboard, determined to find some sort of answer as to why RUSSIANS were now calling his goddamn landline. This was BAD, really really bad. What if they had gotten to you? You had watched that video too. "Shit," he muttered, anxiety filled the entirety of his body, taking over.

Suddenly, an idea sparked inside of his head as he remembered that his uncle had set up a recording device on the telephone a few months ago after a scam call centre had cheated him out of $300 which made him extremely cautious when it came to people who called the house.

He needed to get that call, and quick.

The first thing he did, however, was log into AOL and send you a message.

ThisMustBeThePlace is now online.

ThisMustBeThePlace is typing...

ThisMustBeThePlace: Important news!! Call soon, hope you got home okay from work :)

Now, the phone call- and a Russian-to-English dictionary, that was vital in this case.

Finley practically flies down the flint-coloured carpeted stairs as he proceeds with his mission. Convince Howard to give him the recording of the weird, suspicious call they received at dinner time so he can translate it.

"Uncle Howie!! where are you?" he calls, walking into the living room where he finds only Maureen, sitting leisurely on the ivory floral patterned sofa watching TV whilst stroking the household cat, Eddie, an American shorthair with soft, dense grey fur with black stripes running all across his body. Eddie purrs as Maureen continues to pet him.

"Uhh...hey, where's Uncle Howie?" Finley asks, leaning against the doorframe and awaiting an answer- he inhales deeply, trying to regulate his breathing and catch his breath after running down the extensive flight of stairs that lead from the upstairs floor of the house, to the middle, and eventually to the ground floor.

She smiles tiredly, "He's in his workshop Finnie, he wouldn't tell me what he's doing but it's probably one of those cool science-y things he's planning on teaching the kids at school on Monday. Why? Everything okay?" she answers, eventually glancing away from the television and over to her nephew, concerned.

For context, Howie was a middle school teacher at Drellington Middle. He taught Science. He LOVED science, even. He was extremely dorky- which explains why Finley grew up to be the same, Raised around science, tech and crazy experiments- he really grew to love all things nerdy, all thanks to Howie.

His eyebrows raise, immediately dismissing her concern appreciatively. "Oh! yeah no, I'm okay- just need some help with...physics homework! yeah, that. Are you okay though? You look tired, not saying that in an offensive way of course! uhh-" he stutters, not meaning to come off as discourteous but she didn't take it that way at all, instead, she chuckled sweetly and shook her head.

"Finnie! Don't worry, you're correct in saying I look tired, cause I am! The only thing that's been keeping me awake is Eddie's purring honey, but alas, you're right I am tired, so I'm gonna head to bed n'hit the hay," she retorts, finally getting up from off of the sofa, Eddie in hand. She grabs the remote with her unoccupied hand and switches off the television, then tiredly treads over to where Finley is standing in the doorway.

"Goodnight, Finnie-bear." she smiles, ruffling his chestnut-blondish hair before brushing past him gently and hiking up the stairs.

"Night Maurie." he returns, smiling softly before he makes his way to his uncle's workshop.

"That last word there sounds like 'найден' which is spelt 'NAYDEN', look that up in there," Howie ordered, before placing the headphones back on his head, and pressing play again.

Finley flicks through the pages of the dictionary hastily, desperate to find the answer.

Yeaahhh, it's a long story to explain how they ended up translating Russian together in his uncle's workshop so I'll keep it short and sweet for you. Sound good? Excellent.

Finley found Howie in his workshop, no surprise there. He was surprised, however, to find his uncle already translating this dodgy Russian phone call by himself.

He just had to get in on this. God, he had so much to tell you later.

@stveharringtn AAAA chapter 3!! some insight into Finley's day and a little bit of backstory bc who doesn't love a bit of that eh?

OOO secret Russian codes, OOO angst, OOO Finley can't get you off of his mind OOOO.

love you darlings, more to come very soon! xxx

[love-wiiidow]

Beautiful Girl - Charles Leclerc x Bianchi!OC

warnings: cursing, fluff, angst, friends to enemies to lovers, death, depression, smut, age gap (charles is 26, coco is 22)

summary: when corinne bianchi loses her older brother, the only person she can count on is charles. until she can’t.

authours note: this is a short chapter because i literally hate the beginning of stories

previous—next

my charles playlist-here

The day that Corinne Bianchi was born was one of rejoice.

October 14th, 2000.

Hervé Leclerc and Philippe Bianchi have been best friends for as long as anyone can remember, and now the two are having their youngest children on the same day.

A day prior, the Bianchi family was in Monaco visiting the Leclercs when both women suddenly went into labour.

Corinne Jules Rosa Bianchi was born in Monte Carlo, Monaco, on October 14th, 2000.

When it was allowed, her three older siblings filed into the room.

Tom went to check on his mum, Melanie went to check on her dad, and Jules went straight to his little sister.

Since his parents told him about the pregnancy, he was overjoyed.

A little sister was everything he had ever wanted, and now he had.

“Mum, what’s her name?” Jules asked as he looked up at his mother.

Philippe and Christine had decided to keep the name they picked from their children.

“Corinne Jules Rosa Bianchi.” Their mum said, Jules jaw dropping. “We know how much you care about your little sister, so we decided to name her after you.”

“Maman.” Jules said, choking back tears.

“Nous savons combien elle compte pour vous, we know how much she means to you.”

Jules smiled and reached his hand into the bassinet, his little sister grabbing a firm grip onto his finger.

A few hours later, the Leclerc boys filed into the room.

Lorenzo made a beeline to the crib and Charles just stood next to his dad.

His birthday was in 2 days and it seemed as though everyone had forgotten because of the newborns.

Lorenzo and Jules had been best friends even before Charles was born, and Lorenzo had been appointed as Corinnes godfather.

“Isn’t she so beautiful?” Jules smiled at his best friend, Lorenzos head bobbing up and down in agreement.

“Beaucoup jolie very pretty.” Lorenzo reached his hand down into the bassinet as well.

“Charles, why don’t you go meet the baby?” Hervé said softly as he pushed his youngest son towards the baby.

“Non!” Charles protested, crossing his arms defiantly.

“Charles, viens ici charles, come here.” Jules ushered the young boy towards him, Charles hesitantly shuffling his feet over to his godfather. “Look at the baby.”

Jules looked to his mom for permission to pick up the infant, her head nodding in permission.

He carefully reached into the bassinet and brought Corinne to his chest, Charles eyes scanning her.

“Look, Charles.” Jules said.

Corinnes little feet escaped from the blanket she was carefully wrapped in, Charles giggling at the sight of her feet.

He leaned forward and looked at her face, her lips in a small pout as she slept peacefully.

“Isn’t she so cute?” Melanie said from behind the boys.

“Oui.” Charles nodded, getting over his defiance and anger of not being the youngest anymore.

“What’s her name?” Lorenzo asked.

A smirk placed itself on Jules face as he told them her name.

“Corinne Jules Rosa Bianchi.” He said, putting emphasis on her first middle name.

“C'est ton nom that’s your name!” Charles exclaimed, and Jules nodded.

“It is.” He nodded, boasting about it.

“Coco.” Lorenzo randomly said out loud.

“Hm?” Tom said, now having joined the conversation.

“Coco.” Lorenzo repeated. “Her nickname.”

Coco had stuck, and now people rarely called Corinne by her actual first name.

The young girl was now around 6 months old.

Tom had introduced Jules to the Beatles a few months prior, and Jules loved it.

He had gotten through all of the Beatles albums, and was now on the individual artists.

He was at the end of John Lennons career, and had stumbled across the song Beautiful Boy.

Every single night Jules would accompany either his mum or dad to put Coco to bed, watching from behind as they got her ready to sleep.

After they left, he would haul the chair that sat in the corner of the room to the front of her crib.

He would climb on top of it and kneel on the cushion, leaning into the crib.

“Close your eyes, have no fear.” He would softly sing. “The monsters gone, he’s on the run, and your brothers here.”

His strong French accent just added more charm to the song, even though until around the age of 3 Coco had no idea what he was saying.

The baby was still awake as he was singing this, her beautiful eyes looking up at him.

Coco had heterochromia.

Her right eye was brown, and her left eye was green.

The Leclercs had made their way up to Nice to visit the Bianchis, Charles occupied with laying on the floor in front of Coco.

The baby looked up at him, his jaw dropping as he made eye contact with her.

“Maman!” He gasped, rushing over to his mum and grabbing her arm, dragging her towards the baby on the floor.

“What is it, Charlie?” She asked, kneeling down to get to her sons level.

“Her eyes!” He gawked, his mums jaw dropping as well as she looked into her eyes. “One eye colour for me, and one for Jules!”

“Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, girl.” Jules softly sang. “Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, girl.”

When Coco was born, Christine and Philippe were concerned about the age gap between her siblings and her.

Tom had always been a mummy’s boy, and Melanie had always been a daddy’s girl.

And Coco had been a Jules girl.

She loved her brother more than anything.

“Before you go to sleep, say a little prayer.” Jules smiled. “Every day, in every way, it’s getting better and better.”

Coco smiled up at him, giggling as he made funny faces at her.

“Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful girl.” He smiled, her hand wrapped around his finger as tightly as she could. “Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, girl.”

Cocos arms were wrapped around her stuffed animal, her little feet kicking as she listened to her brother.

“Out on the ocean, sailing away.” He smiled. “I can hardly wait to see you come of age.” He moved to turn on her mobile, a soft lullaby playing. “But I guess we’ll both just have to be patient.”

Jules sang the rest of the song, Coco slowly falling asleep.

“Darling, darling, darling, darling, Coco.” He sang. “Goodnight, Coco. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Beautiful Boy has always been a special song to Coco, and when she found out that it was actually called Beautiful Boy baffled her.

[wh0re4gambit]

ꜱᴄᴏᴛᴛ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀꜱ ᵀʰᵉ ᵍⁱʳˡ ᵗʰᵃᵗ

ꜱᴄᴏᴛᴛ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀꜱxꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ɴᴏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ

»Just ask her out already.«

Scott immediately snapped his head to looked at Jubilee in disbelief and shushed her.

»What, nooo « he whisper shouted.

»Why not? I mean you two would look so cute together aaanddd...« she pointed her finger up to signal him that shes not done yet » its been one hell of a long minute since you've been in a relationship since you and Jean broke up.« Scott was about to open his mouth but Jubilee stopped him once again »Ah I'm not done.« And took a bite of her sandwich »Since she joined the team, you are head over heels for her. Always stare at her and zoom out when she walks by, once you mention her you cant stop talking about her, Y/N did this today, Y/N ate that today, oh look this t-shirt has the same color as Y/N's eyes, Y/N-...« the seventeen year old mocked the team-leader. »Okay I got it, but would you keep it quiet.«

»Only if you ask her out« Jubilee challenged Scott.

»Jubes why would she want to go on a date with me. We barely talk and-« »Barely talk« She scoffed ironically »You two talk for hours ones you guys stumble across your guys way, trust me Scott, I got my reasons and really, really, really good sources that tell me, she'll definitely, 100% would go out on a date with you when you ask her« She took another bite of her gold-brown toasted sandwich.

»If you don't do it I'll do it for you« she shrugged and was about to hop of her seat just before Scott could grab her wrist, in a rather hectic motion.

»Ok, Ok. I'll ask her, just, you know not in the next few hours.«

»Within the next 36 hours, which gives you time till tomorrow 8 p.m.« Jubilee grabbed her sandwich and with one smooth nod, she made her pink sunglasses drop down from her head to her nose and walked off, god knows where.

'Okay, no big deal, you just go to her and start some smalltalk, ask her if she's interested in going on a date and the rest is up to her.' Summers told himself.

He stood up from the table while taking the last sip of his coffee and made his way down to start a long day of work and when this one was done, he would ask the girl that was able to make him blush, out.

The girl that sometimes lets her temperament get the best of her.

The girl that he could talk to for hours that seem to be minutes.

The girl that wasn't afraid to even call Logan out.

The girl that would do everything in her power to protect those who cant.

The girl with the most beautiful eyes ever, and how these start fill with passion every time she starts talking about things shes so passionate about.

The girl that-

»Scott, are ya' even listenin' to me, Sugah?«

»Hm? No, I'm sorry Rogue would you repeat what you just said.«

Rogue chuckled »Ya' have to ask her out, literally every time ya' think about her, you start smillin' like a school girl and also get all blushed up like one too.«

###

A few hours have passed and Jubilee made her way towards the control room of the danger room, with a bag filled with burgers.

»Soooo did you ask her out already?« Jubilee walked into the control room with Scott sitting on one of the three chairs in front of tons of buttons.

He just turned around with his lips pursed together.

Because much to Jubilees surprise right next to him was Y/N with a confused look on her face.

»You know what Scott, I'm just gonna leave this here ... « And placed the bag of burgers on a small table »... and leave you two alone« and made a 180° turn to leave as promised.

Scott now getting back to his original position starring at some invisible point in front of him still lips pursed together.

»Soo who is the lucky lady you are planning on asking out?« Y/N asked in a sarcastic voice and bumped the shoulder of the man next to her.

»Uh..« 'now or never Scott' » It's actually you.«

»Oh.« Y/N took a second, because she was genuinely surprised by his respond.

She had never expected Scott to be even remotely interested in her.

Was she interested in him? Definitely.

»So what are you waiting for?« she asked him him, now completely facing him, but him still not daring to look at her.

»Enough confidence to accept being rejected, I guess.«

»And what if there is no rejection to accept?«

He turned his head around looking into her eyes, consuming every single detail, wether its the slightly different colored dot or the tiny transitions between shades.

»Well than I'd be really happy and looking forward to the date with the most beautiful woman looks and personality wise.«

»Well, then why not ask now...«

"The girl that-" ... made him forget everything else.

»Would you like to go on a date with me?«

»I'd love to Summers.«

A big smile grew onto Scott's face.

»Then just dress nice, I'll pick you up at 7 and the rest is a surprise.«

»Sounds like a good plan.«

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Fic about Eddie with inspo from the song 18 by Anarbor 😉

DID YOU SEE THAT TIK TOK TOO OMGGGGGGGGG

This is my dream. hold on, this was literally Justin and I LMAO

Warning: spiciness lmao

This is way longer than I intended but I am so in love with it. Don't ask me why this took SO LONG TO WRITE.

"Happy birthday, princess." Looking up from my lunch, I spot Eddie Munson standing over my shoulder with a small smile, one daisy between his fingertips. The girls at my table snicker under their breath, my cheeks warming and I reach out to take it from him, our fingertips touching briefly.

I stutter a bit, looking back at the girls at my table, their eyes widening in annoyance at Eddie's presence. With a huff, I stand up from the table, wrapping my fingers around his upper arm to pull him away from my lunch table. I can feel the basketball team's eyes on me, along with the cheerleaders I just abandoned, their gazes judgmental and scrutinizing.

"Where we going?" Eddie asks with a laugh as he stumbles behind me, capturing my hand in his as he tugs me into the janitorial closet. He presses me against the door without a second to think, his eyes fluttering across my expression with a soft smile. "Did I embarrass you?" He teases, nose nudging against mine as I hold the daisy between us. "Don't want your cheer friends to see you with the local freak?"

"Stop." I shove him lightly, hating when he talks so negatively of himself. "I just can't handle their judging." I huff, hands resting against his chest as he presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. The silence is comfortable as my eyes flutter shut, my forehead leaning to rest on his chest.

"Welcome to adulthood, kid." He whispers against my hairline, lifting his hand up to cup my jaw, his lips finding mine as I smile, loving the feeling of his lips against mine. It had been a week or two since we've had a moment to be together and the last time was him sneaking into my bedroom late at night so my dad didn't find out.

It had been my best kept secret.

From my parents, my friends in cheer and the basketball team, and from anyone and everyone who knows me. I'm sure it would've rattled the world to learn that the twenty year old, repeat senior was seeing an almost eighteen year old girl. So now that I'm eighteen and have the right to whatever I want- whoever I want- I'm going to make the best of it.

"Eddie-" I whisper, pushing him away from me as he groans, his hands moving to rest on the door beside my head, caging me in.

"C'mon. Been waiting for this day for like a month now." His voice is pathetically close to a whimper, breathy and needy as his eyes search through mine. "Got you a pretty flower and everything. Just wanted to congratulate my girl on her special day." He hums, so sweet and kind as I roll my eyes playfully.

"My father would kill you if he found out about us." I whisper, wrapping my arms around his neck as his nose scrunches, shoulders shrugging and his hands dip lower on my back, resting on the curve of my ass.

"I'm not afraid of the big bad Mayor of Hawkins." He chuckles, pecking my lips lovingly as my thighs clench, loving the feeling of his body against mine, his lips lingering a bit as he whispers. "Plus, that's the fun of it. Daddy's girl with daddy issues, screwing the town bad boy. I can't think of a better way to piss off your parents." I tug on his hair playfully, watching him roll his eyes. "Let me take you out tonight. We can go back to my place after, celebrate your new found freedom of adulthood." My heart wants nothing more than to agree, to allow him to take me out and take me home, solidifying whatever our relationship or friendship has been for the last few months.

You could only have so much fun sneaking around.

"Are you asking me out on a date?" I quiz with a smirk, his cheeks flushing as he leans down to rest his forehead on my shoulder. "How chivalrous." My fingers brush through his hair as I giggle at him, loving how he goes from bad-boy with tattoos, to a big softie in the matter of minutes.

"I'll pick you up at 8." He says in a hushed voice, leaning up to capture my lips in a heated kiss, my lips instinctively parting to accommodate him.

"I'll be waiting."

My hands soothe over my dress as I sit on my front steps, anxiously watching the cars pass as I wait for Eddie to pull up. Anxious butterflies flutter in my stomach as I listen to the familiar roar of his engine but the door opening behind me has my stomach dropping.

"Where you off to, sweetheart?" My dad stands with his hands on his hips, looking down at me with a confused expression, his frown deepening as he watches Eddie pull into the driveway.

"Off to celebrate my birthday with a friend." My thumb juts back to the van as my father sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and I cringe. "He's fine, dad. Brought me a flower and everything as a happy birthday." I lean on my tippy toes to press a kiss to my dads cheek before giving him thumbs up, backing away slowly towards the van.

"You like him?" My father asks, heat creeping up my neck as I clear my throat, my head craning back to look at Eddie as he sends me a small wave.

"A lot."

The drive back to Eddie's house is full of laughter and fleeting glances, his eyes seemingly stuck on the bare skin of my thighs and the way my freshly manicured nails looks against my soft skin.

"After you, m'lady." Eddie holds the trailer door open for me as I slip under his arm, a bright smile spreading across my lips at the sight of the clean and tidy trailer- the first time it's ever been clean. "Yeah, I may have went a bit overboard." He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"It's great, Eddie, seriously." His fingers slip between mine, holding me closely as he leads me down the hall and towards his bedroom as my stomach swirls. Typically we'd be stumbling through here, tangled up in another, eyes barely open enough to take a look at his place. But now looking around, it's so cute to think of him cleaning it for me, to prepare for my arrival.

"So, don't laugh." He looks back at me nervously as he pushes his bedroom door open, revealing a beautiful sight.

"Wow." I whisper, stepping past him and into his room, in complete awe of the set up he created. There's a few candles scattered around the room, the blinds pulled shut and there's a few take out containers from KFC sitting in the middle of the bed.

"Happy birthday." He whispers behind me, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of my head as my heart aches. I spin in his grasp, lifting onto my tippy toes to press my lips against his. He lets out a noise of surprise, his hands snaking around my waist as he hums against me.

"Can I tell you something?" I ask against his lips, leaning away from him as his forehead rests against mine. His eyes don't open quite yet, giving me the time to look at his peaceful expression.

"You can tell me anything." He whispers, pecking my lips once more as he leads me back towards the bed. I let him sit me down on the edge as I bite at my lip, nerves running through me as I try to articulate all of the feelings I've felt for him all day.

"I think I'm in love with you."

Silence...

A few beats go by, his eyes blinking a few times as his lips part in shock. My heart pounds against my chest as I try my best to swallow my pride, preparing myself for the worst. He looks genuinely confused and shocked, clearing his throat as he laughs anxiously.

"You are not in love with me." He mutters, shaking his head with an unconvinced look, his brows pulling together in denial.

"You don't know enough about me to say that." I clear my throat, my stomach aching painfully at the thought of him rejecting me after all this time of fucking and kissing and sharing our feelings; it would all be bullshit and for what?

"You don't know me well enough to claim you're in love with me." He whispers, reaching out to rest his hand on my thigh but I give him a stern shrug, holding my ground. "Fine, then tell me, what is it about me that you love so much? My hair, the hot tats?" He jokes but I reach into my sweater pocket, pulling out the flower that he so graciously gifted me earlier. His eyes soften at the sight of the flower, his lips fanning out into a pretty smile.

"You got me a daisy." I whisper, softly sighing as I set it down between us. "It's my favorite flower." His eyes widen in surprise at my confession, not even realizing that it meant that much to me but that's what happens when you get a girl flowers, right?

It means more than they think it does.

"That's all a guys gotta do to get the lovely lady's attention?" He laughs, scooting a bit closer to me as his cheeks warm, fingers brushing against my thigh as his fingers tangle with mine. There's no sense of ridicule in his eyes at my confession of love, just bashfulness and genuine affection.

"And apparently play DnD and hang out with children." I add with a snort, loving the way his soft eyes look over me, wholesome and teasing. "Speaking of which, you should teach me how to play." I offer, catching his attention as his jaw drops slightly, doing a double take from my words before stuttering.

"Y-You wanna learn how to play Dungeons and Dragons? You?" He asks, deadpanned with a shocked scoff and he raises a shaky finger to point at me. I just give him a slight nod with a smile. "Well, fuck, maybe I'm in love with you too." I erupt in a fit of giggles as he pulls me towards him, guiding me to sit down on his lap with a wide grin.

"Yes, you gotta teach me. Especially if you're gonna ask me to be your girlfriend." His smile grows at my offer, head bobbing in a reassuring nod and I let myself relax into him. My arms wrap around his neck, securing myself on his lap as his hands travel south, pulling me flush against him. He comes close to me, lips brushing against mine as he whispers.

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard for that comment, I hope you know that." My thighs clench around him, heart melting but I don't let my confidence falter, giving him a taste of his own medicine after all of the teasing and all of the control he's had.

"With or without the cuffs hanging on your door?" I ask, watching as his eyes widen briefly, tongue skimming out over his lips as he groans under his breath. "We could take turns."

"Fuck." He moans, hips jumping into mine as I laugh menacingly, pushing him back onto the bed as another thought pops into my head with a gasp.

"Maybe you'll even let me wear the rings." In a seconds notice, I'm on my back, Eddie's necklace dangling over me as his hair frames his face handsomely. He pecks my lips once before traveling down my cheek and down to my neck, drawling breathy whimpers from me.

"I'm gonna wreck you."

"All bark, no bite, Eds."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the-heart @vampviolets@haylee-e@popehaywardssecretgf @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife @smoke-and-fire @officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @smoke-and-fire386 @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy

[butmakeitgayblog]

I’m curious… where were you first introduced to writing/reading fanfiction? was it Tumblr, Fanfiction.net, Wattpad, AO3; etc?

I actually found fanfic.net first and then wattpad but ff.net was pretty much my main source until I stumbled across AO3 and never looked back. Literal geniuses are on that site, i dont understand it.

(sorry if you’ve already answered this question in the past. I’ve been following your blog for a while but I just started to come out of hiding anonymously 😅)

Heyo yeah I love that you're coming off anon 🤗 I love anons believe me I do, but it's also a lot of fun putting a url to a question and just knowing there's someone real behind the sunglasses lol so yeah, glad to see ya 💕

Anyway, oof this is gonna age me, but actually my first foray into fanfic was back on old forum ship sites. Reading only, I never even considered writing. I think ff.net was around at the time, and I might've read a few things here and there, maybe?, but I don't think I did because I genuinely don't remember it.

Tbh I was just a wee little lesbian in the midwest who was filled with a lot of gay emotions and not sure where to go about all of it. And at the time I was a huge Buffy fan, specifically Willara 👀 and so I mostly just stumbled upon and read fics that were posted to Willara specific forums. Like my stupid ass would just search "willow and tara" and see what came up in a general search 🥴. Ah, it was a different time then... So yeah. There was one I frequented A Lot called something really cringy like The Lion The Witch and The Bad Wardrobe I think? Looking back now, some objectively bad fic lol, but there were some gems that kept my little 12-15yo ass in a chokehold.

So imagine my surpise as an adult in her mid-late 20s falling in love with Clexa and idly thinking one day, "Huh. I wonder if anyone still writes any of that weird fan story stuff that I used to read as a kid, only for Clexa... Lemme see" and then discovering the glorious treasure that is AO3 and bam here we are