#This piece of shit is my favorite creature in the universe

[soofhiasilliyo]

I became a completely fucking insane Reigen Arataka stan while I was gone.

#I'm not even down bad #I'm subterranean cataclysmic #digital art #mob psycho 100 #Mp100 #reigen fanart #reigen arataka #This piece of shit is my favorite creature in the universe

[momolady]

Do you have book or author recs? Thank you! ☺️

I’m afraid I haven’t kept up with my reading in the past few years. Last thing I read was “I’m Glad My Mom Died” by Jeanette McCurdy (so good holy shit” but I think everyone knows that book by now. So I am going to rec some of my favorite and comfort books.

This is my favorite book of all time. I absolutely love the way Peter S. Beagle writes. If you love the movie, the book makes the movie so much better. The graphic novel is also a favorite, it’s gorgeous.

I can remember reading Allie Brosh online eons ago. Her first book has the best depiction of depression I’ve ever seen. And the second book in particular means the world to me. I got it a year after my brother’s passing and her talking about her grief over her sister’s death helped me understand my grief and pain. They’re equal parts hilarious and gutting. Absolute favorites that I reread every year if I can.

Anything Carrie Fisher. Just like Allie Brosh she’s equal parts hilarious and gutting. I read this book when I found it at the thrift store I worked at and it’s stayed with me through three moves and more. Read all her stuff, she’s brilliant and I miss her constantly.

This was one of the books my mom had on the shelf she told me not to look at. I constantly looked at it. The artwork in it spoke to me and stuck with me all through my adolescence. There’s a piece of art that I believe is part of my monster fucker origin. But the story is nice and short and it’s really fun.

As a child my mom put on the universal monster movies between Disney viewings to save her sanity. Creature from the Black Lagoon was a marvel to me. The underwater scenes were my favorite. So this book and the creation of the character was the perfect read for me. Millicent Patrick is one of the coolest people to ever exist.

Two of my favorite Beauty and the Beast retellings I think Robin McKinley is pretty much on everyone’s list. Beast is a really fascinating retell from the Beast’s pov, and it still strikes me to this day. (Don’t tell anyone but I stole the Beast book from my high school back in the day).

When I turned 18 these were the books mom bought me for my birthday. Granted, this was also the woman who let me read Interview With a Vampire way too young so I dunno why she thought this would be such a shocking gift. Anyways, these books really introduced me to erotic writing and are probably the reason I’m even here today.

Shout out to @monster-bait this book is so much fun and the characters are enchanting. I really want to get her new book but I’ve been broke and I love having physical copies. (Also I haven’t been reading lately and I’d feel bad if the book just sat there).

I’d love to have suggestions and if any of you have books out there you’ve published you’d like me to read please let me know! I’d love to support my fellow writers here before I buy anything else.

#book reccs #personal

[autisticempathydaemon]

If you're still doing the matchups 👁

Rn I'm fixated on Twist the knife by that handsome devil but I obsess over a new song every week

My enneagram type is 4 (apparently) and I'm an infp

I love video essays. Basically anything Kennie JD makes is delectable

My childhood imaginary friend was literally just pinkie pie and rainbow dash I'm not kidding

Go to way to fall asleep is either warm milk with honey and lavender or nothing at all. I pass out when the universe allows me to

I would like my legal name to be either Sojourner (Journey)or Cupid.

Favorite video is either Caelum's sleep aid, Guy's reverse comfort sick audio, or the one where Ollie got his listener to eat after hearing they didn't eat lunch

Vega does nothing for me I don't get it 💔💔

I know every mlp episode up to season 5 by heart

Out of all the guys, I'd say I'm platonically attracted to either Cam or Brachium

Go to rambling topic for me is mythology but nine times outta ten it's gonna be Greek mythology and how much modern interpretations of Hades and Persephone PISS ME OFF/LH

Go to gas station snack is green tea Arizona (or pink lemonade) with Pringles

My favorite playlist rn is my lovecore playlist. It's very important to me

Idk it's not really a guilty pleasure but I like playing pastel girl it's cute and simple💕

Extra shit: my favorite color is pink, I'm an Aquarius, favorite animals are cats and bunnies, I love sweets and spicy food and I currently need more room on my bed for more plushies

Type Fours and INFPs are defined as thoughtful, sensitive, creative masterminds with whole worlds inside their heads. That makes you a great match with our one and only dreamwalking boy, Elliott.

Like, literally, you two could share the creative worlds in your heads; that’s what y’all as a pair is so cool. He’d love crafting pink, fluffy places for you, always striving to make them more realistic and fun and innovative. I know you’re also an artist, so Elliott could bring your drawings to life in dreams. Who needs references or models when you have a top notch dreamwalker as a boyfriend?

Overall, your relationship would be just so cute. Elliott’s friends to lovers shaped, so I can imagine him having absorbed your MLP knowledge, if he hasn’t seen it, through pure osmosis. He always has little pops of bright, “girlier” colors: tie dye shirts you bought him, pink hair ties on his wrist, a pink beanie he stole from you and never gave back. You go out to eat together, and you laugh when he’s a spicy food wimp because he never managed to build a tolerance.

Song:

Now, baby, I believe this is real/ So take a chance and don't ever look back, don't ever look back/ We drove to Cali and got drunk on the beach/ Got a motel and built a fort out of sheets/ I finally found you, my missing puzzle piece/ I'm complete

This isn’t That Handsome Devil, it’s nowhere close, but I will not apologize, okay. Your submission is giving cute, it’s giving girly pop, it’s giving bubblegum. I go where the words lead me, and they are leading me to the cheesy Katy Perry classic bop about dreams and falling in love that Elliott, without a doubt, as a creature of taste, knows all the words to.

Runner-Ups:

Okay, so Sam is a runner-up because it’s basically canon he wears the same, cowboy shit all the time, and I think your colors and style would be a cute contrast to his. Regulus is a runner-up, my favorite one, because you could spin him as the Hades to your Persephone any which way, and I WILL.

note: rant to me anytime about Hades and Persephone I love Greek mythology shit tell me how you feel about Hadestown

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌

#redactedasmr #redactedverse #redacted asmr #redactedaudio #redacted audio #redacted #busybee matches

[barbatoskisser]

"Oh, fuck. Its a human." The creature in front of you blinks, once, twice, before poking your shoulders. "Yup, definitely a human."

Name

"My...name? You... want it? I mean, sure, cool I guess. Adin or River works fine, but if you wanna call me something different I could care less unless its my deadname. Which out of like 40 billion names I'd doubt ya'd guess." The creature shrugged, its black, almost as black as a void, tail sways behind it, as if swatting an invisible fly.

Age

"What a weird question." The creature mutters, a bit dumbfounded before shrugging, not caring enough to judge. "Eighteen, shouldn't matter all that much though, now should it?" The creature tsked, looking away.

Pronouns

River paused. "He/him, they/them, or it/its." They scratched the back of their head, scoffing a bit. "I'm a guy but I know for some people thats hard to get through their skulls, so if ya wanna call me an individual, or lord forbid a thing then I could care less." It sighed. "Just don't call me a girl." River rolled his eyes. "Any use of she/her in reference to myself, or calling me a girl in a serious manner will be getting you blocked." Their tail fluffed up, obviously pissed at the even thought of it.

Rules / Guidelines

Friends

They pinched the bridge of their nose. "No NSFW. Suggestive stuff is fine but I'd rather that be in my dms and if your a good friend of mine. Some guy out of nowhere sending me pictures of his sausage is disgusting. If your a friend though and you or I are joking about characters we'd do the tango with, then its fine. Just as a warning though, I do reblog NSFW if your a kid. I always try to tag it though, so block that. Also don't mentioned the forced shit near me, or the trying of forced shit. I know you know what i mean. And the name Xereane. That man pisses me the fuck off." They then sighed and added as an after thought.

"Also no discourse. I support Palestine and the lack of genocide and obviously I support LGBTQ since I'm a trans gay guy. Let's try to keep this a space that people can come to when they need a laugh. I try to limit my talking of my personal traumas to a personal account, but it still happens, but its not every post. So lets just try to keep this as a somewhat safe area for those wandering souls who need a minute to catch their breath, have a laugh, or need a hug. All wholesome things are welcome. So yeah, don't mention politics. Its a pain in the ass for everyone. US politics and international politics are included. With this rule. Anyone who violates and tries to get into such a discussion will be blocked. Or given a warning if close friend, soft blocks if neccessary, before finally hard blocking. Thank you." Its cat ear twitches briefly.

They blinked once, a slow one. "Oh nice, a random curveball. @definesanity , @archaicanathema , @gunterdon , @unkownknowledge , @pale-value , amongst others are all good friends of mine. I'm willing to have more though, so don't hesitate to ask." It waved its hand lazily.

Species

"Ah the one I've been waiting for. Nekomata, in the same way Kirara from genshin impact is. Just a guy with cat ears and a cat tail." He shrugged.

Fandoms/Interests

"Hunter x Hunter, Genshin Impact, Ouran High School Host Club, Lunasmr audios, That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime..." They paused. "If its popular enough, I've probably watched it. "I used to pkay Honkai Star Rail, but I've since fallen out of it. I also haven't watched One Piece or Demon Slayer, but thats pretty much it. I've also seen that one witchy slime killing one too, Kuma Kuma Kuma Bear, some others. Sue me, I like isekai." They shrugged. "Up to Overhaul arc of my hero academia with no plans on finishing, all of Hunter x Hunter, all of Dragom Ball Z, up to the universe tournament arc in Super, Probably all of Slime in the anime adaptation. Though i do have webnovel spoilers." They paused and took a deep breath. "I'm a huge weeb. Alright? I also haven't seen naruto. Tried but nevet got into it."

Favorite character(s)

"Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freecss, Venti / Barbatos, Goku, Illumi Zoldyck, Ryoma Takebayoshi, Alluka and Nanika Zoldyck, Kurapika Kurta, Izuku Midoriya, Shouto Todoroki, Rimuru Tempest / Satoru Mikami, Milim, Veldora Tempest, Paimon, Xiao, Gorou, Lyney, Lynette, Arlechhino, Furina, Zhongli / Rex Lapis, Focalors, and probably way more. Those are just the ones I can think of in a few minutes. Oh, Karma Akabane, Korosensei, The blue haired one -- Nagisa Shiota, the rezt are kinda forgettable." They shrugged, unbothered by the long list. Very few were people he liked romantically, most were just kickass people Adin loved looking up content for.

Backstory

"Nunya. Ask something else in the askbox. Bye!" They waved and did a poof! No longer in the same spot as before, a askbox left where they were once standing.

#pinned post again

[foreverrunningfree]

@czigonas wanted to see me answer those artist questions and I did them all so it’ll be under the cut

1. Art programs you have but don’t use?

As of rn I cannot draw on my laptop/tablet so technically paint tool SAI and photoshop(idk what version). But I guess I hadn’t used photoshop for /years/ back before my drawing hiatus. Sorry but SAI is so much nicer to look at and to use, for me personally.

2. Is it easier to draw someone facing left,right, or forward?

I flip flop my canvas a ton to a) look at it for wonkiness and b) to get specific lines in a direction that feels good, but the actual act of drawing I typically like to have them looking left cause most the the lines flow from top right to bottom left which is nicer to do since I use my right hand to draw even tho I am ambidextrous.

3. What ideas come from when you were little?

This question confuses me on what it’s actually asking soooo? When I was like 12 I had to write a story for school so I did a story about a plane crash in which the survivor came face to face to a rat/bat/cat/dog creature thing? I’ve always wanted to redraw the creature, idk if I have the original drawing I did and I don’t feel up to digging to see if I kept it during all my moves.

4. Fave character/subject that’s a bitch to draw?

My favorite animal color patterns aka brindle, merle ,roan, spots/stripes. So time consuming. In terms of shape, human faces for sure.

5. Estimate of how much of your art you post online vs. the art you keep for yourself?

Before hiatus, probably 90% /shared/. Currently, probably 75% /posted/cause I can’t post the porn to tumblr lmaoooo but I have shared them with like half a dozen friends.

6. Anything that might inspire you subconsciously?

I’m sure there’s a ton but if it’s subconsciously then how would I consciously know?🤔 ok serious answer, probably every single 2D animated movie or show I’ve ever seen, and all the various artists I follow. I mean, there’s parts of my style I can pinpoint you to what it’s inspired by.

7. A medium of art you don’t work in but appreciate?

I’ve never /seriously/ tried oil paint, acrylic paint, or pastels but that shit always looks so good. Also watercolor even though i have tried and enjoyed using watercolors but I am far far faaarrr from being proficient in them. Non drawing wise, I fucking love dioramas, especially those that are then filled in(?) with acrylic(?). I watch a lot of those videos on YouTube.

8. What’s an old project idea you’ve lost interest in?

Most of my old animal ocs I had in the same universe in my mind and had a comic planned that I never got around to. I still love and wanna revisit those ocs. But also my dragon age ocs who I’ve SERIOUSLY BEEN CONSIDERING drawing in @soaps-hoe-141 universe 👀

9. What are your file name conventions?

Before hiatus/ on my laptop, subject or character and whatever was happening in the pic. Now using procreate on my iPad? I don’t think I’ve named a single one lol.

10. Favorite piece of clothing to draw?

Nothing, no clothes, nude, nakedness please and thank you. lol but I guess I do sorta enjoy figuring out clothing in general, folds and shit, getting that practice in. Like how it hangs and creases in poses since I’m not used to drawing it.

11. Do you listen to anything while drawing?

I don’t usually listen to /only/ music while drawing, I much prefer having a favorite movie playing in the background and/or a show I enjoy rewatching/am actively watching. I also watch a lot of gamer YouTubers I put on as background noise/short watch breaks that their voice is just soothing to me even if I’m not /watching/.

12. Easiest part of the body to draw?

I’m not sure… maybe boobs/pecs for humanoids. General body shape for animals?

13. A creator you admire but whose work isn’t your thing?

Honestly can’t think of a single one. I mean, plenty of artists do work(or with a medium) that I can’t or don’t want to do/use personally but I read the question of “isn’t your thing” as “subject you don’t enjoy”. If that’s correct, then idk what to tell you. I don’t follow or remember people who majority does things I can’t enjoy on some level.

14. Any fave motifs?

Quite a lot of religious imagery I guess ex. Circles around a persons head. Less serious answer is drawing characters in meme formats lol

15. Where do you draw?

Please don’t tell any physical therapists I live like this… on my back on my couch with my head on the arm rest while holding my iPad propped up on my chest like 8 inches away from my face lmao

16. Something you are good at but don’t really have fun doing?

Idk???? I do shit for my own enjoyment so I’m not sure? Maybe perhaps backgrounds? Like I could do something decent if i wanted to but I’m not into it so I usually just don’t?

17. Do you eat or drink while drawing?

I take breaks… but while actively drawing? I often drink aka let the horny demons out while I enjoy whiskey lol.

18. An estimate of how much art supplies you’ve broken?

Broken broken? Next to fucking none? some charcoal sticks but otherwise…. None… I majority do digital art so really nothing to break there lol

19. Fave inanimate objects to draw?

Idk? I like doing life charcoal drawings? Of whatever, but particularly statues if that counts? I usually have living beings as my subjects.

20. Something everyone else finds hard to draw but you enjoy?

Ok, I hate this question, cause we are all good at different things. Maybe it’s just most of those I follow have different strengths than me???? But I guess if I had to pick, recreating from life(or picture) is a lot easier for me than some others(like making it life like/very accurate).

21. Art styles nothing like your own but you like anyways?

Yooo, anything I’ve reblogged honestly. Love everyone.

22. What physical exercises do you do before drawing?

Absolutely none, again don’t let the pros know cause damn. But I will do stretches or take breaks as needed.

23. Do you use different layer modes?

Absolutely. Mostly for lighting and shading but yes, if I’m doing digital imma take advantage of it.

24. Do your references include stock images?

Yes? I don’t really understand what it’s asking?

25. Something your art has been compared to that you were not inspired by?

Idk? I don’t usually get feedback of that sort.

26. What’s a piece that’s viewed a wildly different interpretation from what you intended?

Again idk? I guess my shit is straight forward?

27. Do you warm up before getting to the good stuff?

Almost never, again don’t let the pros know lol I do sometimes jump between pieces or start a new sketch before going to something farther along.

28. Any art events you have participated in, like zines?

Nope, wanted to and have tried before but I tend to NOT do something if I feel pressured to do it.

29. Media you love but doesn’t inspire you artistically?

Again I feel like this is a weird question or maybe it’s just my understanding of it but I can feel inspiration from all sort of artist shit even if it’s something I’ll never do(ex making a crochet animal or dioramas). I guess I can feel inspired to create from other creators even if it’s not direct inspiration/subject/medium.

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated?

Underrated as in no one has seen aside from a few people irl would be my colored pencil pieces I did during afternoon naps when I worked at a daycare a few years ago.

[rey-of-luke]

I was tagged by @revolvingresidency to "answer 30 questions and tag 20 blogs you are contractually obligated to get to know better." Thank you so much!

Name: Hannah

Sign: Scorpio (Sun) / Libra (Moon) / Sagittarius (Rising)

Height: 5’5”

Time: 9:09 pm (now 9:38 pm at the time of posting)

Birthday: November 16

Favorite Bands/Artists: Too many, but all-time so far are Queen, Bastille, Florence + the Machine, Lord Huron, Hozier, many 70s/80s singers/bands, and more I’m forgetting atm. 

Last Movie: Uhhhhhh.... I saw some of Pretty Woman while it was on TV? 

Last Show: Teen Wolf

When I Created this Blog: Ooof, in the middle of a computer class in high school and *checks* looks like the first post I ever made or reblogged was in 2014 so I would have been... a freshman? I think? If I graduated in 2017... yeah, I’d be either a freshman or a sophomore when I created this. Holy shit, I’ve been here for like 8 years. No wonder I don’t have time for half of this site’s bullshit anymore, haha.

What I Post: I have no clue, tbh. Whatever. Mostly fandom stuff, sharing my shitty fanvids, mostly just reblogging stuff. Maybe the occasional fic rec or shitty edit.

Last Thing I Googled: PNG’s for my terrible OC x Dead By Daylight crossover graphic on my oc sideblog.

Other Blogs: my OC sideblog @reyofluke-ocs and I kind of want to bring my Rey Skywalker RP blog back but honestly tumblr rp is still scary as hell but tbh I barely have time for my hobbies as it is but if I do (or you’re just curious) it’s @scavengerxjedi

Do I Get Asks: No, but I always appreciate any I do get!

Following: 378

Average Hours of Sleep: 6-7. More if I don’t have work or my internship. l

Instruments: Haven’t touched my clarinet in. oof, a long time. I wasn’t that good at it and mostly faked my way through marching band because I could never memorize the entire show for the life of me except random parts (which was always a problem because my high school band was so small there was like only 3 or 4 of us that played clarinet total).

What I’m Wearing: Jean shorts and an oversized yellow t-shirt that advertises the Great Smokey Mountains on it. 

Dream Job: International human rights advocacy, maybe with the United Nations or UNICEF. Just bringing awareness and helping how I can where human rights are being overlooked or where people need a voice. But as long as I get to be a social worker and help people I’ll be happy. I would also like to maybe write on the side - maybe actually write and self-publish my original story involving various supernatural creatures in a secret Department of Social Services setting.

Dream Trip: IRELAND. Or Europe, but specifically Ireland has always been a dream of mine.

Nationality: American (specifically Southeastern part of the United States)

Favorite Songs: Hmmm.... most things by Bastille, Lord Huron, Florence + the Machine. Also without a doubt, ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ by Queen because my dad and I always jam out to it when it comes on (much to my mom’s annoyance because neither my dad nor I can carry a tune to save our life).

Last Book I Read: Currently, I am reading The Invisible Life of Addie Rue by V.E. Schwab and I love it!!!! Just finished A Shadow in the Ember by Jennifer Amoundant yesterday and I liked it (but kind of want to punch Nyktos because for someone that can ‘read emotions’ he sure as hell seems intent on believing all of Sera’s are ‘lies’ like dude I know she betrayed your trust but holy shit can’t you tell when emotions are genuine??????) *cough* ahem, nevermind my little rant. 

3 Fictional Universes to Live In: So many. All of them. I’ll probably go with my all-time comfort universes: Star Wars, Harry Potter, Inheritance Cycle, or X-Men. I know Harry Potter is conterversial but those books were my childhood, along with the Inheritance Cycle and Warriors and will always hold a special place in my heart even if JKR is a piece of shit. 

No pressure tags: @musicboxmemories, @eddiemunscns, @arrthurpendragon, @elmunson @taladurith, anyone else who wants to.

#get to know me #hannah speaks #THANK YOU FOR THE TAG SO MUCH!

[artsymyargentavislove]

Guys, Boom!Shadow is the local cryptid...

Ok, if the Boom Universe is it's own thing separated from canon, there are no humans and no GUN...

Where did Shadow came from then?

At this point I can totally see Sonic saying: 'Idk, he just goes whenever he pleases and destroys shit up because he feels like it and it's not like anyone but us can stop him'

Imagine if Boom!Shadow is an experiment gone horribly wrong just like the original but we are left completely on the dark about it. That's the only explanation I can find for his absolutely nonsensical behavior, nonexistent social skills, his 'Angry, FIGHT ME' attitude and how eggman can easily deceive him with a shitty edited video when the original was a fucking menace that played with everyone he met like chess pieces on a board to the point he almost succeeded in his plan to destroy earth and everything in it.

Like, he's the same Shadow but there's no Gerald, no Maria and no greater purpose like curing illnesses and protecting humanity, just a creature given intelligence and thrown into the world to figure it out alone, like Frankenstein's monster but this one's half two different aliens and way too much power.

Imagine that for some reason animals don't fear him, he's an asshole to everyone else but then he has pretty birds eating from his hand, absolutely calm and quiet when around an animal he finds cute, imagine he simply can't bear to see caged animals and gets in a specially bad mood if he sees one making tricks in exchange for food (Even if they are completely healthy, happy pets), he criptically comments 'Feeling superior, aren't you? Having lesser creatures humilliate themselves for your own entertainment'.

Then the next scene have Eggman annoying him visiting his cave only to find him with a bunch of birds and a pair of squirrels all over him and the dark hedgehog absolutely unbothered, one silent glare and Eggman magically takes out a big bag of bird seeds as a peace offering, Shadow scoffs and only then he listens to whatever he has to say (QUIETLY) while feeding the birds. Eggman may know something we don't here given the a bit too familiar way he acts with Shadow through the show. (He just nonchalantly invited himself in what is meant to be someone else's house, regardles if there is no door to keep him out)

Imagine him eventually trusting Knuckles or Sonic enough to teach them how to win a bird's trust and it's the only time he doesn't immediately pick a fist fight with Sonic because he doesn't wanna disturb the animal since it's his favorite, if he gets questioned about the animal's name (As if implying it's his pet) he says his own version of 'Animals don't have names because they know themselves' (From Coraline)

(Original: Now, you people have names. That's because you don't know who you are. We know who we are, so we don't need names.” There was something irritatingly self-centered about the cat, Coraline decided.)

Then who named Shadow? Himself? Or someone else?

Imagine him treated like a wild animal, chained in a cage and poked with so many needles and scalpels without anesthesia you point at him with something remotely sharp and he goes ballistic and hissing bloody murder. Taught to obey commands like a parrot and rewarding him with 'treats' he doesn't even like but absolutely refusing to acknowledge he can talk in full, comprehensible sentences and may be equally, if not even more intelligent than you want to accept because this creature exists for my own amusement, I created him so I can do whatever I please with it, Right?

Take Stick's whole conspiration theories, (Haven't seen the series in quite some time, but as far as I'm concerned she more often than not turns out to be RIGHT) Shadow-the-fucking-Hedgehog is a living, breathing goverment conspiracy, I can absolutely see her chasing the poor guy down enough to corner him to the point he becomes absolutely paranoid and terrified of her until he has enough and yells 'I'M NOT GOING BACK TO THAT CAGE, OVER MY DEAD BODY!' and everyone is like: 'What did you just say now?'

Or someone says something specifically triggering for Shadow and he just freezes like he saw a fucking ghost and makes him lose composture and even Sonic is worried about him only for him to run away as fast as he can before he spirals into a panic attack. (He does, but in the safety and comfort of his cave)

Whoever has watched the series and has better memory than me feel free to add whatever you want. I'm just like, ok, make Shadow the villain but make it made sense, give him a valid reason to hate the world and the people in it other than just tape glue the word edgy on his forehead, but again, I'm not even able to make him an actual villain, guess the anti-hero status remains...

#shadow the hedgehog #sonic boom #sticks the jungle badger #sticks the badger #chaotic ideas #fanfiction ideas #inspiration #fanfic dumpster #free prompts #knuckles the echidna #boom!shadow #boom knuckles

[toasteaa]

You know what headcanon I actually enjoy immensely and wish more people would play with? The idea that Giorno Giovanna is a dhampir.

It's literally 2 am so I will give bullets as to why I love this hc and tinges of my own hcs:

The "Giorno killed his own parents" theory

Literally one of my favorite theories and not because Giorno's parents were pieces of shit. It gives Giorno a reason to have completely changed his name from Haruno to Giorno. Other than disconnecting himself from his past, he became a whole new person. And that's not just figurative - Giorno changed overnight because he finally gave into a thirst he didn't even know he had. Once he did that, those latent Dio genes finally woke up. It just cost his mother and step father their lives.

Giorno literally fits the definition of a dhampir

The traits of a dhampir are often as follows: "[Dhampirs] can sense a supernatural creature within a specified distance, have acute sense of sight and hearing, have regenerating abilities, immortality, walk in sunlight...[and] also eat like a human, dhampyres can also control animals." (source)

"sense a supernatural creature" is pretty obsolete in the Jojo universe because of all the Stand users, however, Giorno is usually the first person to sense when something is amiss or is the first to figure out another Stand ability. Additionally, what are Gold Experience's abilities? Regeneration and creating life out of inanimate objects - including animals that he can "control". Giorno doesn't need to drink blood all the time - or much at all really - because he isn't a full fledged vampire. Hell, if we want to really get into gene pools, Giorno wouldn't even really be a halfling because Jonathan's body was human. If Giorno's mom got pregnant before Dio was fully bonded with Jonathan's body, there's a chance that Giorno is only 1/3 vampire - meaning he could probably go for years before without drinking blood, but now probably needs it every few months. That need probably increases with each drink he has and it would definitely be interesting to see someone play around with the idea (or I'll do it myself -).

It explains why Bruno was able to last as long as he did after his fight with King Crimson

Bruno fucking died. There's literally no way to ignore that. He literally died and Giorno brought him back to life. How? We see that it was GE that did it, but that's not explained - GE's abilities are rarely explained. However we have seen how GE works on Bruno twice before this funky, back to life sequence happened and it was in a way that made his consciousness extremely fast and strong - almost like a vampire.

Bruno is a walking corpse after the fight with KC, however he comes out of the church unscathed when he and the gang decide to keep Trish safe and defy the Boss. He has no blood, as seen when he fucks up his ankle while talking to kiss men. He has no pulse. He can still eat regular food. Why? Because Giorno accidentally made him a dhampir, but didn't do it completely. You can't make a dhampir/vampire out of someone that has already died. Giorno managed to fix Bruno's body and yank his soul back in, but it wasn't enough to actually keep him functional. His body was breaking down because of it.

Anyway I'm gonna go pass out now and I hope this made even the slightest bit of sense because I've got brainpower but my eyes are also threatening to beat me up if I don't sleep.

#toast talks #jjba #golden wind #vento aureo #giorno giovanna #This was literally supposed to be a few sentences what yhe fuck happened #They're probably not even coherent thoughts and I might've forgotten stuff because again #It's 2am #But dhampir Giorno is a hc that I stan in this house #Also I want my mf vampire AU

[pretoriafics]

Runaway: A Teenage Dream alternative version

Hi! Well, I know a lot of you guys have been requesting me a part 2 of Teenage Dream (And it will come soon), but I simply had this idea. I was been addicted to daydreaming playlists on YouTube lately, and I found one who let me pretty inspired. All the links will be in the fic.

Notes: This is not Part 2 of Teenage Dream. It's just an alternative version, okay?

Derek just found a playlist on YouTube that shows him his soulmate from a faraway dimension: you. Now, he is determined to bring you to him. Word count: 1.712 Pairings: Different Dimension!Reader x Derek; Contain: It's pretty romantic, I guess; AU Soulmate Warnings: SONGFIC!!; English is not my main language <3; Inappropriate language Teenage Dream one-shot TEEN WOLF MASTERLIST

It was a cold and rainy night. Stiles and Scott just came out of Derek's loft. It was complicated to deal with them sometimes, with all that teenage stubbornness and stupidity in supernatural stuff. Without mention of the troubles they caused to Derek. Come on, they made him a wanted criminal!

His life is reduced to run away from some kind of threat to keep his survival. Derek was an eternal runaway, and he was starting to get tired of this shit. He can't even remember what home is anymore or how it is to not fear for his own life. Peace was an unknown thing for him.

Derek approaches his laptop on the table - where Scott was before. The werewolf sat on the chair in front of it, ready to turn it off, but he sees something that catches his attention. YouTube was open and in the video suggestions was a video called "a playlist for your soulmate in a faraway reality".

Well... Daydreaming playlists wasn't his thing. However, he was curious and tired. If that playlist would make him calm his nerves and relax, he would listen to it.

Derek clicks on it, and the first song fills the room: Runaway, by Aurora.

I was listenin' to the ocean I saw a face in the sand But when I picked it up Then it vanished away from my hands, down

Tired, Derek stands up from the chair and lays down on the couch. He closes his eyes, just feeling the music and all the stress running away from his body. The music, the rain outside... Yeah, it was comfy. It was... good.

I had a dream I was seven Climbing my way in a tree I saw a piece of heaven Waiting, impatient, for me, down

There, with his closed eyes, he just could hear that song and the rain outside. Suddenly the rain stops, and the music is the only sound that fills the room. The last Hale opens his eyes and finds out different things at his loft: He can't see anything outside. Everything was dark there. His loft was dark too, with weak lights and several light particles floating around the room.

What the hell?

And I was running far away Would I run off the world someday? Nobody knows, nobody knows And I was dancing in the rain I felt alive and I can't complain

It was like his loft was moved to a different place. Even with all his knowledge about the supernatural, that kind of phenomenon was new to him. He never heard anything that could seem like that. Suddenly, Derek heard a female voice singing with the music.

But now take me home Take me home where I belong I can't take it anymore

A cloud of golden dust started to unite at a specific point of the room, and you start to taking form. You were distracted, sitting in a chair with a book in your hands and a laptop close to you. When Derek stares at your laptop, he sees the exact same playlist he was hearing. Sure! Certainly was something pretty weird with that playlist. It was showing him you, a girl he never saw before. You were translucid, almost shining gold. And you were the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

It was love at first sight.

I was painting a picture The picture was a painting of you And for a moment I thought you were here But then again, it wasn't true, down

You look up from the book with wide eyes, scared. Your eyes run to the playlist on your laptop. Well, you and Derek connected the dots on your minds before staring at each other again. Seems like the playlist in fact showed your soulmate from a different reality. A faraway one. You gave him a smile, and he gave it back to you.

"Can you hear me?" You said, looking at him.

"Yeah. Can you hear me?"

"Yeah!"

And all this time I have been lying Oh, lying in secret to myself I've been putting sorrow on the farthest place on my shelf

Derek gave a step forward to you, memorizing each detail of you.

"What's your name?"

"(Y/N). Yours?"

"Derek."

Your eyes got widen again. Oh, holy crap.

"Hale?" You asked in urgency. He looks at you, surprised.

"Yeah. Do you know me?"

"You are one of my favorite fictional characters. You are literally part of my teenage."

Oh, wow. So, he was a fictional character in another reality! It was creepy and funny at the same time. Derek stares at the laptop of yours, looking at the title of that playlist.

A playlist for your soulmate in a far-away reality.

Hm. He stares at you.

"So..." Derek cross his arms in front of his chest, looking at you "Seems like the part of your teenage is your soulmate in a far-away reality. Do you think this is accurate? Because I think it is."

You felt your cheeks burning, and your stomach froze.

"I think it sounds right."

And I was running far away

Would I run off the world someday?

Nobody knows, nobody knows

And I was dancing in the rain

I felt alive and I can't complain

You gave him a smile, the most beautiful one he had ever seen. Wanting to feel your skin, Derek reaches out his hand on yours, trying to touch you. However, his fingers pass over on your skin. He can't touch you. Upset, he let out a long sigh.

"I think you're too far away."

You are upset as well. You always felt things when you looked at him on your TV, but you always thought it was just a crush that everyone has in some fictional characters. But now you know that, no, it wasn't just a silly crush on a fictional character. Deep in your subconscious, you knew he was destined for you.

"What can we do to solve this?"

"I don't know, but I'll find a way."

Derek looked at each book and talked to every witch he knew. He heard an ancient legend with one of them, that said that, sometimes, the universe opens a bridge to different dimensions. Many werewolves find out their soulmate this way. That playlist was a cosmic event, the universe trying to unite two lost souls.

Then, he finally found a book. An ancient and rare one.

He almost didn't sleep lately. Eager to stay with you, Derek couldn't help but translate each page until he finally could find a way to bring you to him. Sometimes, he was listening to that playlist on YouTube just to see you. You were almost melting in pure love just seeing how hard he was working to stay with you. Runaway by Aurora was filling the loft.

But now take me home Take me home where I belong I got no other place to go Now take me home Take me home where I belong I got no other place to go Now take me home Take me home where I belong I can't take it anymore But I kept running for a soft place to fall And I kept running for a soft place to fall

"Do you found out something?" You asked, looking at him with your eyes full of hope. Runaway by Aurora was filling the loft.

Derek denied, flustred.

"Nothing yet."

"Maybe It's impossible..."

He swallowed hard. Stubborn, he denied. He can't believe it was impossible. There's a way, and he was sure about it! It should have.

"No. It should have a way to bring you."

There, sat at his chair and translating that book, Derek was determined. He simply can't lose you, his peace point. He belongs to you.

And I was running far away Would I run off the world someday?

And then, Derek finally found it! Seems like a simple spell to him. All he needs to do is to pronounce the words with the bridge - which means the playlist - open. He looks at you with a shine of hope in his eyes.

"I think I found it."

Oh Gosh. You felt your stomach froze in anxiety.

"Are you sure?"

"It's my best bet." His green eyes stare at you. "Are you sure you want to stay here? With me?"

You gave him a gentle smile while holds your own hands, playing with your fingers.

"Yeah. I mean, I'm just tired of running from all the shit around here."

He gave you a smile as well. Derek knew that feeling. Hoping that the spell works, he stands up from his chair with the book in his hand. With the best Latin he knows, he pronounces the words of the spell, and you feel shivers all around your body. The sparkly dust seems to be sparkly and luminous than ever, and the darkness outside gives place to the view of the streets.

But now take me home Take me home where I belong I got no other place to go Now take me home Take me home where I belong I got no other place to go

Your body was losing the golden shine, and stepwise the natural tones of your skin were being revealed. Derek's loft was showing itself for you, and you felt your body starting to get warm again. And, done: You was now at his loft. Physically. His voice got silenced, and the only sound you could listen to was Aurora's voice on Runaway.

Derek couldn't believe you were really there, in front of him. Almost without air on his lungs, he put the book on the table and reaches his hand on yours. A large smile was born on his lips when he felt your skin. You felt your cheeks burning at his touch. Wow. You can't believe this!

He pulls you close to him by embracing your waist, and all you could do is smile. You rest one of your hands on his chest while the other one gives him a gentle caress on his face. Without contain himself anymore, Derek puts a soft kiss on your lips. And it felt so right.

It felt like the place where he belongs to.

#derek hale fic #derek hale fanfic #derek hale fanfiction #derek hale x reader #derek hale fluff #derek hale imagines #derek hale imagine #teen wolf fanfics #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fic #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf fics #teen wolf imagines

[beskarberry]

Garden of Ishtar

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 9

(The Mandalorian x f!reader) (+18)

"The Universe has a strange way of granting wishes"

<-Previous Next->

Rating: holy shit Explicit

Word count: 15.8k

Content warnings: SEX POLLEN + BREEDING KINK + PREGNANCY KINK with an extra kinky twist! (Dubcon/use of mind altering substances by non-sentient creature/ovipos) Side kinks: dom/alpha, praise, begging, denial, overstim, bonus somnophila. Obvious favorites of p in v, finger blasting, oral f receiving, multiple orgasms and then some. Big gooey heaps of fluff to make up for all the filth. I tried.

A/N: Weird shit happens in space, and this chapter is no exception. This is the most kinks I've crammed into one chapter, almost zero story progression whatsoever, it's just smutty smut the whole way though. Good luck and may the force be with you because you're gonna need it.

“Well, which one do you want?”

“You pick.”

“Fuck no, I picked the last one, you can pick the next.”

It was a bright, lovely, sunshiny day on the forest moon of Endor, the fine weather a stark contrast from how it had been when you had landed. You had opened the access ramps on the Crest to get some fresh air circulating while you made preparations to head towards your next target, but you had to pick a target first.

On a supply crate that you had pushed into the middle of the cabin like a dining room table sat three little pucks, their bounties still as mysterious as they had been when you had wantonly pulled them off of Karga’s countertop. As far as you were concerned it was Din’s turn to pick, and though death was just an occupational hazard in your line of work, there had been too many brushes with the reaper during your last hunt for you to be comfortable picking again.

Leaning against the wide open doorframe you took a deep breath of the fresh, rain-scrubbed air, letting it fill your lungs and clear your head. It was a little humid, though it might have been the nicest day you had seen in a long time. Outside on the dampish grass the foundling was chasing some kind of pretty insect, hopping about trying to catch the elusive critter. It was good for him to get a chance to stretch his legs, no matter how short they were, and you giggled at his antics when he tripped and fell. He squealed and rolled through the grass before he was bounding after another fluttering creature. Without the violent storms the mini-moon was peaceful, serene almost, and in another lifetime maybe you would have settled down here; though you couldn’t imagine being anything besides a hunter. I wonder if that will ever change.

“Really, cyare, you pick.” Sitting across from you, Din was cleaning the last bit of mud from his armor, the thick muck having long dried into a chunky, flaky mess. Everything but the plate he had in his hands now shimmered like spilled mercury over his chest and shoulders, catching the dappled sunbeams that filtered in through the open doors. Your argument over who got to pick the next puck had ground to a stand still, and you were getting frustrated, but not frustrated enough that you would yield.

“It’s not my turn, it’s your turn.” He just shook his head, diligently scrubbing the dirt from the details of the mudhorn on his pauldron without realizing the irony of his efforts. He set the cleaned metal to his shoulder, the clack of its fasteners echoing faintly in the open hold. The Mandalorian sat up straight, leaning his helmeted head against the hull wall and patting his knees, expectantly waiting for you to make your choice. Something about his armored appearance gave you a stupid idea, and you sauntered up to him with a cocky grin. “I’ll fight’cha for it.”

“You’ll what?” The black gloss of his visor tilted sharply, as though you had just grown a second head.

“Fight me! Loser has to pick the puck.” You kicked the tips of his boots and brought your fists up, playfully making soft, slow jabs towards him. He huffed, like he wasn’t used to you having bright ideas by now.

“I’m not going to fight you, cyar’ika, just pick a damn puck already.”

“Them's fightin’ words.” Your knuckles went pap pap pap in quick succession against the hexagonal indent on his chest. “What’re’ya afraid you’re gonna lose?”

He lazily swatted at you, barely even trying to block your attack. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Ha! As if!” You whipped your head forward, sending the beskar you wore on your crown sliding down over your eyes, letting the quicksilver flash of its curved surfaces tell him you meant business. Your jabs got a little meaner, though if you hit him too much harder his own beskar would probably break your fingers. Between his metal plates were a few soft spots, and you honed in on them with sneaky digits. Din jerked visibly when you got the one right under his chest piece, and a swift arm came up and caught your next offence. “Ohoho, so you are awake, I was beginning to think you had fallen asleep on me.”

“I’m not going to hit you.” His words came through his modulator like gravel, irritated that you would even think he would lay a hand on you. Shrugging, you knocked him right in the forehead with the heel of your palm, making his helmet clonk against the durasteel. The next jab you threw was caught and thrown back to you, him tossing your fist away. You went for him again, but when he grabbed both your fists you were pushed back with the force of him rising from his seat. He marched you backwards and shoved you away, then brought his vambraces up in a defensive block, ready for the next attack.

You took one last glance at the foundling, who was sitting sweetly in the grassy meadow, absently trying to catch motes of pollen that were floating by, before launching into your assault. Your fists stung at him with reckless abandon, not enough to actually hurt either of you, though he probably wouldn’t have felt it anyway under his pile of armor. Mando blocked everything you hurled at him, making good on his promise not to hit you, but that was taking all the fun out of it. “Come on, rust bucket, stand up for yourself!” He took everything you gave, deflecting every thrown fist and slowly inching his way closer to you until you were taking steps back to open up your jabs.

“You really want me to fight you? Fine.” He barked, whacking your next punch away. You jumped back to dodge a rapid slew of hook shots, cackling like a lunatic that you had gotten your wish granted.

“Yes! Come on, big boy, fight me! Let’s go! I’m gonna kick your- ass!” Din lunged at you, tackling you like a linebacker and throwing you against the wall. Cornered, you snapped your head forward and rang his bell, disorienting him enough that you could drop out of his grasp and dash out between his legs. He turned on you in an instant, and you made ‘come at me bro’ hands at him before he was on you again. He swiped with a left hook, chuffing you lightly on the shoulder while you socked him back; though you weren’t nearly as gentle, stinging your knuckles on his unyielding iron.

A bandoliered boot went for your shins, and you stomped back at it, kicking sideways at the plates of his thighs. You hopped, switched legs, and spun a roundhouse straight into the side of his gut. On anyone else it would have been a crippling blow, but your Mandalorian grabbed your lifted ankle and hauled you to him, using your own weight against you to palm your sternum and flip you on your back. The wind was knocked from your lungs when you hit the floor, but not enough that you didn’t get a knee up as he tried to pin you under him, and you kicked up into his gut and flipped him over your head; the sound of his armor hitting the ground ringing loud and ugly.

You kicked up and tossed yourself backwards in the same spring, putting you over top of his breastplate. Throwing your knees back you locked his arms under your ankles, straddling his chest so you could hold his helmet down. “That all you got?”

“You wish!” Din squirmed and kneed you in the ass, tossing you off of him. You rolled away and scrambled to your feet, narrowly avoiding another flying tackle. The cabin of the Crest wasn’t giving you much space to work with, and you hauled ass down down the ramp before he could catch you again. “Oh now you want me to chase you, ner riduur?” He hollered, swinging his arms wide in a challenging stance.

You turned and wiggled your ass at him, slapping yourself tauntingly before the sound of armored thunder had you running for cover. You ran past the foundling on the ground, braking quickly next to him to pat his head before his father was upon you, and you missed being snatched by the skin of your teeth.

Hopping back a few paces you put up your dukes, and this time the beskar took the bait. The Mandalorian threw punches left and right, more forceful than he had started with but not enough to actually hurt. You took a few blows to your forearms and shoulders before lashing out with a wild throw. The sound of fists on metal echoed against the tree trunks that surrounded the sunny meadow while you took on the mighty warrior, though armor was kicking your ass for him, and you nearly dashed yourself to pieces on the plate of his chest.

“Had enough yet?”

You roared in response and threw your whole body at him, making quick jabs at the meat of his sides where his armor was thinnest. He keeled sideways, dropped himself into a crouch, and lunged, tackling you to the ground. Damn it! Time to fight dirty! You pulled an arm free of his grasp and grabbed his cloak, throwing it over his helmet and wrapping it up tight, temporarily blinding him. He sat up to try and unravel the fabric from his face, and in that split second you grabbed the backs of his knees and yanked, flopping him back down onto his back. The pinner had become the pin-ee, and you squashed yourself up between his legs and thrust into his groin, making him keen in surprise.

“You’re mine, bantha-butt!” Tangled in the cloak he squirmed under you until he was free of your trap, giving you a confused head tilt at your position. You hooked your arms under his knees and ground yourself up against his ass, making him grunt underneath you before he wrapped his legs around your middle and rolled, throwing you down onto the ground. Both of you grappled for dominance, rolling and tossing each other through the soft, dampish grass until you were on top of him again, straddling his waist.

“That’s better.” He hummed, grabbing your wrists and pulling you down to him where he could wrap his arms around your writhing form. “You’re mine, you little womp rat.”

“Nuh uh! You’re under me, that means I win, chumbucket.” You threw your weight around, trying to coax one more good roll out of the two of you, but he had you in his clutches. A dark, lecherous laugh reverberated in your ear, and you felt him rut up against your crotch to demand your complacency. Between your legs the faintest outline of his shaft slotted against you, fitting so well against the cradle of your body that it really might have been made just for you; but you grabbed his shoulders and pushed him harder into the grass. “Not in front of the foundling, you big horndog.”

“Says the one riding me.” A soft, leather-clad hand left your captured shoulders to slide your mask up and brush the grass from your hair, gently tucking a stray lock behind your ear; and you pressed your face into his palm as it passed back down. The rumble in his chest went right through your legs up your spine until your cheeks blushed under his thumbs. “Mesh’la…”

Something twitched under you, and as much as you would like to indulge him, sass came to you more naturally. “Is this why you didn’t wanna fight me?” You rolled your hips over his, giving him a tantalizing tease. “Gets you all fired up?”

His helmet rolled, trying to avoid your skull-boring gaze. “Maybe…”

“Well maybe when we get into hyperspace we can do something about that, but not until that one has gone to bed.”

Ahead of you the foundling was laying back in the grass, watching his adopted parents with big googly eyes. Din followed your gaze, and the two of you made stupid little waves at your child. Beans waved back and stood up, teetering over to the pair of you on his little stubby legs. You laid against the breadth of your mate’s chest and reached for the goofy green baby, who happily ran into your arms.

“Heya, Goob! What’cha up to, huh? Catchin’ bugs?” You sat up and leaned back, ignoring the heavy hands that laid on your thighs while you chatted with the foundling. The baby gibbered and told you all about his fun in the sun, but under you the slow gyration of hips was starting to get distracting. “Beans, tell your dad to stop being naughty.”

“Me? You started this.”

“Bah! I don’t start things, I only finish them.” Under you your beskar burdened buddy sighed and let his head fall back into the grass, shaking it back and forth at your foolishness. You hefted the foundling up in the air, making him squeal in delight, and the sweet sounds of his laughter gave you a better idea. “You know what? I bet he would like to pick a puck!”

“Thank the fucking stars, does that mean we can get going?”

“Yeah yeah fussbucket come on. You’re so damn impatient!” You made one last amorous swirl of your hips before leaping up from your man, running with the baby high above your head as you dashed circles around the ship. It was good for both of you to spend time together that wasn’t just on the trail, and you treasured the few moments of comfort you got to have as a pack between hunts. You ran a few more laps before flying up the ramp to where Mando had already beaten you there, and you plopped the baby down on the makeshift table where the pucks had miraculously survived your wrassling. “Ok buddy boy, can you pick a puckie for me?”

The baby tossed his arms in the air and squeaked like he would rather go for another round of flight simulator, but you plopped down on the ground in front of him and pointed at the pucks again. He tilted his head, making his airplane ears flop akimbo. The foundling looked down at the pucks, back up to you, and then -slapped- the one in the middle as hard as he could. The pucks projector fired up and glowed ghostly blue in front of the child’s wondrous eyes, and he tried to grab at the thing showing in its center.

The holo must be malfunctioning, maybe the baby hit it too hard, but the picture wasn’t of a face, or even a person for that matter; it was something round, egg shaped almost. Beside you, your Mandalorian was making the same confused head tilts that you were, and he tapped a leather finger to the puck’s button, turning it off and on again, but the same image remained. “That can’t be right, have you ever seen one like this?”

You shook your head, puzzled by the purplish object that floated before you. Maybe it was some kind of stone or seed, or even an egg like its shape suggested. The pucknotes had a counter next to the ovoid, indicating that more credits would be rewarded for the quantity of items procured. Besides a description of the item and the indicator, the puck notes had one last useful tidbit of information, the last known location:

Hoth.

“Wait, Hoth? There’s nothing on Hoth! You sure this thing’s not fucked up?” Din shrugged, making his plates clack before he got up and started getting the ship around, closing ramps and scooting crates back into place. “Shit balls of hell, alright! Fucking Hoth it is.” You’d been to Hoth maybe all of two times chasing down the stupidest, most idiotic bounties, and not once had you seen anything of value there. “Of course it has to be somewhere cold, we already did cold. One of those fucking pucks better go to a goddamn beach or something or I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“You sure you haven’t already? I mean,” Din stopped rearranging the furniture to swagger up to you, catching your hand in his own. “You did try to fight with a Mandalorian.”

“Bah! And I’d do it again, too, you’re not that intimidating.” Playfully you tried to take your hand back, but he was a professional bounty hunter, and he didn’t let his captures get away so easily. Thick, leatherbound fingers laced themselves between your own, and your other arm was taken hostage and brought to his shoulder so he could rest a heavy palm on your hip unhindered. You let your hand wander up his pauldron to the edge of his helmet, sneaking a finger between the metal and the man to toy with his curls. The hand on your waist pulled you closer, and he gently pressed his helmet to your brow.

“Riduur’ika,” He purred, making the cool beskar rumble against your skin. “You don’t think I’m… intimidating!?” The arm against your waist hugged you tight while the other twirled you around in a circle, and you made some kind of undignified squeak as you were dipped low. Parallel to the ship's floor, you clawed at his cowl as if he would drop you, though his grip was stronger than beskar. You caught the reflection of your own wild eyes as his visor tilted to meet your gaze. “How about now?”

Safe in his arms, you snorted a laugh and stuffed your hands under his helmet to pick the latches free and toss the heavy thing off, ignoring the sound of it rolling away from you while you kissed your husband. The Mandalorian’s warm, soft lips against your own muffled the few stray giggles that tried to escape your mouth, tickled by not only his romance but also his mustache. Those dark chocolate eyes of his met your own, and the edges of his cheeks rolled right up into them with a dazzling smile. Maker help you.

“Din! Where the hell did you pick that up from?” A warm laugh reverberated against you before he was pushing his lips to yours in another fiery kiss.

“Saw it in a holovid once, some kind of… courtship ritual, I think. I’ve, uh, always wanted to t-try it…” His wavering baritone trailed off with a hint of embarrassment, and you couldn’t help but snicker.

“‘Courtship ritual’, huh? Golly gee willikers, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were flirting with me.”

His cheeks flushed pink, “Is it working?”

“Mmm… no.”

The gorgeous smile on his scruffy face was replaced with a scowl a mile wide, but you laughed and kissed at it anyway. You heard him inhale sharply when you started to push your tongue past his lips, and he met yours with his own. Without parting, he slowly stood the pair of you back up, and you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders to pull him even closer.

Free from the muck of the forest floor that had clung to his armor, or the stygian waters of the river soaking his cloak, the familiar scent of him had returned. Rich and smokey, sweat and leather and blast plasma and the faintest remnants of the fresher soap you adored. The spice of him saturated your lungs and drenched your heart with the promise of his eternal company, giving you that delightfully warm and gooey feeling that he alone could give.

You pulled your lips from his and kissed at his cheeks and the tip of his angular nose before grabbing the sides of his head and bringing his brow back to yours. He almost fought you over it, torn between wanting his lips against your skin and the joy of you indulging in his sacred inheritance. Either way, the stubborn little ‘patu’ that peeped up from the floor had you both pulling away to bring the foundling into your arms, you were a clan of three, after all.

It would take a few jumps to make it to your next destination, and if she could speak, the Razor Crest would tell you how glad she was for your company as she carried you through the stars. There had been a time in the old ship’s life where she had only known silence, save for the screams of captured bounties, her hull had been nearly barren with only her captain for comfort. But then the foundling had come into her Mandalorian’s life, and the sweet sounds of a child’s laughter warmed her steel heart, amplified tenfold by the starsongs you brought with you when you had arrived as well.

Like a serenade written to the stars themselves the three of you flowed through her ironsides, a triple-part harmony that reverberated from the top of her transparisteel dome to the depths of her cantankerous stardrive. The chimes of the navigation panel had gone unheard while the streaking stars spiralled around the old dropper, her passengers fully engrossed with each other's company. There was so much laughter now, between stories told and songs sang high, the starcraft’s walls nearly rang with mirth.

The jokes you would tell, as terrible as they often were, made the Crest’s captain smile so often now; his scruffy cheeks going right up into his eyes whenever he flashed those pearly whites. He was so sweet, so gentle when the beskar was lifted from him, as if a new man was made every time the armor fell away. The oath of riddurok had given him such a gift, the gift of touch, and he relished in it at every turn; pressing kisses to the faces of the two he loved most.

And when it was time to rest, hidden away in the little sleeping alcove the three of you laid, wrapped more tightly together than any captured quarry. Below the howl of the hyperdrive engine, so faint it was almost like a secret, would come the sound of your starsongs. For your boys alone would you let yourself remember the rhymes of timelost sailors, sang low and slow to ease them to sleep. The foundling usually blacked right out on the first verses, but your unarmored husband would grapple with the pull of sleep for as long as he could, just to hear your voice.

When you dropped out of hyperspace the uncaring iceball called Hoth dominated your view, nearly blinding you with its glaring white surface. Your captain flew the Crest over the snowy expanse, looking for any sign of life or even a point of interest, but the ice fields seemed to stretch on forever between snow covered steppes. You had to pull your visor down just to be able to look out the window, and you attempted to cycle its settings as if that would do you any good, but everything came back as solid colors as far as the eye could see.

“This is bullshit, there’s nothing down there.” In your palm the bounty puck glowed faintly, making a liar out of you; but you ignored it to watch a herd of large, bipedal herbivores making their way along a mountainous ridge. The Crest put the animals in the rear view quicker than you would have liked, and you leaned against the transparisteel with a huff. In your lap the foundling was watching joyfully out the window, seemingly undeterred by the blinding snow. You started trying to get the baby rearranged when you saw the fob flash erratically before going back to lazy blinks. “Din wait! I think we passed it!”

“Passed what? I don’t see anything.” Below you the vast expanse was flat as a fresh pressed sheet, only dotted here and there with specks of icy blue.

“Circle around!” You tucked the foundling under your arm and unbuckled yourself from your seat to squish into the narrow space between Din’s armrest and the dashboard so he could see the fob for himself. He slowed the mighty metal bird down as slow as she would go and flew her in a wide circle back towards the way you’d come in.

Flash… flash… flash flash flASHFLAsh flash… flash…

“You see that? There gotta be something down there, maybe it’s under the snow. Take us down, captain!” In the corner of your eye you caught the slightest jostle of his helmet, though it could have just as easily been the rocking of the ship that made his head move, but you knew better. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, captain.” The poorly veiled cheekiness in his voice was met with a loving suckerpunch against the side of his pauldron. You’d completely failed to learn your lesson about the bite of beskar, and you hissed at the iron’s sting on your knuckles. The Crest floated down gently, her engines kicking up flurries of crisp white snow over the broad expanse. The moment the landing struts had locked into place your armored companion was grabbing for your wrist. “That’s why you shouldn’t try to fight me, mesh’la.”

“Bite me.”

A soft thumbpad brushed gently against your reddening knuckles, making you wince just slightly. The black gloss of his single eye slowly coasted up to meet your own, then cocked sideways. “Looks like I already did.” With his other hand he lifted the edge of his helmet just enough to press the softest kiss to the back of your hand, and though his sweetness made your heart thunder against its cage, the wry upturn of his lips almost made you want to punch him again.

Under your arm the foundling squirmed and cooed, and you brushed your captured hand along the edge of your husband’s bristly jaw before pulling the child around to your chest so you could both look out the window. The alabaster plains stretched out in all directions like the Dune Sea of Tatooine, nothing for miles.

“Din I think this fob is busted, and probably the puck too, there’s fuckall out-”

*-crik- c-c-crrrack craack!-*

Something snap-crackle-popped outside the ship, like the sound of suspension cables breaking. High pitched creaks between deep, almost gutterel booms. Ice.

“Cyare… don’t… move.” The armored monolith was frozen solid, more frozen than the ice underneath you apparently. Not even the sound of his modulated breathing could be heard in the stillness of the flightdeck.

*...cricckckcick..creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeak……cruUNCH!-*

The ship lurched, a vicious gash splitting the ice below you. You lurched with it, your heart leaping to your throat as your arms squished the baby tight. A gloved hand shot from the steering controls to steady you.

*-k-k-reaaaak thuddduddudud… crRONCH!-*

“Oh fuck.”

*….CrAcK-!*

The Crest tilted nose-first into the growing abyss, and your oathsworn had only a split second to haul you and the foundling into his seat before the old girl was hurtling through the breach.

For a moment you were in free fall, a canyon of aquamarine flying past the window, darkening with every passing second. It felt like slow motion, your legs becoming weightless while the rest of you was anchored to the pilots seat.

*-ka-RuNcH!-*

Rigid muscle and beskar enveloped you as the Razor hit the ground, metal crunching and screeching with the impact. Your deathgrip on the foundling was only matched by the armored grasp around you, keeping the two of you locked safely to Din’s chest. Bulbs flickered and wires sparked in the waning light of the flight deck, though your eyes were so tightly screwed shut you didn’t notice. You took a cautious breath, only now aware that you had been holding it before wrenching an eye open. Beskar dominated your view, the heavy helmet of your husband pressed tightly to your face.

“Are you ok?” came a modulated whisper.

“Yeah, are you?” He nodded against you, and you peeled yourselves apart to inspect the foundling that was encased between your chests. Baby Beans chirruped and ogled at his fussing buir, the two of you knocking into each other while you both checked him for damage. When he’d passed both your inspections you glanced around the cockpit, though you guessed from the sound of the impact most of the damage would be down below.

You practically needed a crowbar to get Din’s arms off of you, his protector’s instinct running at full bore to guard his clan, but you managed to weasel out of his iron grasp. Frigid air gusted up through the ladder hole before you’d even crossed the short distance to the drophatch, making you shudder. Below, the force of the impact had torn the Razor’s walls asunder, breaking apart her riveted seams. Icy wind blew in through the gashes, freezing the mist that sprang from your eyes.

“Oh, my poor Lady…” You whispered, your heart aching from seeing your ship so wounded. Heavy boots made their way down the ladder behind you, and you turned to your oathsworn, “Can… can we fix this?”

“We can try, but you need something warmer.” Stoic as the day you met, Mando strode to the bent lockers and forced his way in, pulling out a heavy parka and draping it around your shoulders. The cold weather garb was entirely too big for you, but it snuggled around you like a warm hug, blocking out the frigid breeze. In your arms the foundling peeped out from the collar, just enough to watch his papa without getting too chilly.

Din was elbow deep in another wrecked cabinet, scrounging up whatever tools he could find to repair the damage. You joined him at the growing pile, holding onto the child with one arm and trying to pick a portable welder up with the other. Hands too full, you ducked into the oversized parka and worked to stuff the baby up under your shirt, cinching your belt under his butt so he wouldn’t fall out. There, stay warm you little fart.

It took a while for the two of you to make enough progress on the broken bird to get her closed up again, but many hands make the work lighter. Ship repair had been your very first duty when you went starborne, and your hands remembered how to bend durasteel to your will, though you would probably need to get to an actual mechanic if you were going to be star-worthy again.

Occasionally you caught the tilt of your Mandalorian’s visor when you fired up the welder or cranked a ratchet against a stubborn bolt, snapping away from you when you’d shoot him a sly wink. Once the cabin was passable, it was time to work on the exterior, but you swatted at Din’s occupied mitts, demanding that the two of you take a rest beforehand. His back cracked when he stood up straight, and though he wouldn’t admit it, a break was a good idea.

“Do you have a kettle or something I can make hot water in? I think I saw a canister of broth we can heat up.” Your repair work on the hull must have been pretty damn efficient, because the parka was beginning to get warm, and you started to shrug it off when you heard the rackety sound of something clattering to the floor.

“B-buir’ika?” Behind you, Din had dropped a heavy tool and was staring at you with that black hole gaze of his.

“Boo-ear-eeka? What does- oh!” You glanced down at yourself and laughed, your tunic protruding with a large, rounded tummy. “Chilly beans!” Bending forward, you pulled your collar down so your oathsworn could see the half-lidded eyes of the cozy foundling hidden below the swell of your breasts. “I didn’t want him to get cold.”

When you looked up from the babe’s sweet face, your armored husband had silently crossed the length of the hold and was nervously reaching towards you, his hands hovering over the lumpy shape in your middle. Gently he set his palms to where the child was bundled, slowly gliding over the taut fabric and making you flush crimson. Din did a double take on your cherry-red face and pulled away, muttering an apology and hastily returning to his duty as kettle-fetcher.

When you’d gotten the foundling out of your shirt and the thin soup heated, you sat down on your regular eating crate with your crew. The three of you took your break quietly since eating or drinking in your presence still made Din a little embarrassed, but between his timidness and the awkward term of endearment the tension in the cabin was so thick you could cut it with a vibro. He usually pressed his back to yours, but now he was hunched over his bowl of broth, sipping silently.

When your cup was empty you got up from your seat, pressed a kiss to each of your boy’s heads, and got your tools around to work on the outside of the Crest. You were garbed and out the exit before Din could protest, though you wouldn’t have listened anyway if he did. Once the ramp closed behind you, you took a deep breath of the glacial air, letting it clear your head. Shore leave was a luxury you rarely got to indulge in during your early years, and your love of having your boots on the ground only got stronger as the years went by.

The basin you had crashed into sprawled beneath the ice sheet high above your head, supported by enormous pillars of frozen water. This had probably been a lake once, or even a small sea, but when the water drained it left behind the frozen aquifer you now found yourself stuck in. High above you the light from where you had fallen through the ice cast frosty sunbeams through the falling snow, faintly illuminating the mythical columns in cobalt and turquoise hues.

Your boots crunched through the ancient permafrost as you made your rounds, taking a mental checklist of the Razor’s damage. Her keel had taken the brunt of the impact, but one of her wingtips was pretty busted up, a twisted panel sending sparks into the cerulean cathedral that would probably take two people to fix.

Out of curiosity you pulled the blinker from somewhere in your parka, relieved to see that it was indeed flashing. If you had thrown your crew to the depths of Niflheim on a busted fob you might never forgive yourself. You wondered what the acoustics would be like in the icy cavern, but the threat of bringing the fragile ice sheet down around your ears kept you quiet. Holding the fob up, you made a wide circle around the ship, trying to pinpoint which way the blinks were fastest. This way… You cast a quick glance over your shoulder at the Crest with her ramps still closed, and started towards your quarry.

~

In the ship's durasteel depths, Din sighed and groaned, unsure how to feel. He hated not being next to you, but he respected you enough to know you might need some space after… that. He tried to distract himself by wiping off the foundling’s mush-mouth with the edge of his cloak, but that almost made things worse. Our foundling.

Everything about The Way encouraged the safety and procreation of younglings, and not only as a riduur but also an Alor he should be fathering many children with you to recover Mandalore’s losses. But you had said you weren’t ready, and he honored your wishes, but even so, his heart ached with the desire to see you filled with his warriors.

He knew he shouldn’t, but that was suddenly all he could imagine, you round and glowing and full…

“Damn it.” He could feel his face flush red, and the honeyglow seeped through his bones all the way down to his guts, forcing him to pull his helmet back on just to regain his composure. When the visor was back over his eyes, he glanced down at the foundling, who was making some kind of face up at him. “This is your fault.”

“Patu!”

~

The Crest was a good distance behind you now, the edges of her wings partially obscured by the ice, but not quite out of eyeshot. The air was stagnant so far below the surface, the cold of it sitting heavy in your lungs and freezing inside your nose. Aside from the towers of frost and fallen snow, the cavern was empty. Enormous, but empty. This fucking fob, there’s nothing here. You were half tempted to chuck the hunk of garbage away or stomp it out, take the loss just to get the fuck out of here, when you felt a subtle breeze waft over you.

You were too far from the breach for it to be coming from above you, and you held perfectly still, trying to determine its source. Too faint, you bent down and scooped up a handful of snow, chucking it high above you and watching the way it fell. That way! Suddenly excited to play Arctic Explorer, you hustled to find the source of the breeze.

Twice more you used the snow as a compass until you were at a colossal glacier, the size of it easily big enough to swallow a large starship. A splotch of dark blue stood out against the ivory, and as you got closer you saw it was a fissure in the ice, a tunnel of some kind. Maybe this is where the water went. The air coming out of it was making your parka flap around you while you held up the fob: flashflashflash. Whatever it is you were tracking had to be down there, and you brushed ice crystals off of your faceplate to flip through your extrasensory settings until thermal flickered to life.

Warm. The air coming out of the tunnel was warm, though only by a few degrees more; not enough to thaw your bones, but enough to register on your visor. You stepped forward, tucking your head into the tunnel. Dark as the depths of an ocean and just as blue, the frozen tube stretched away, darker and darker until it turned to void. Stepping just inside the entrance, you flailed when your boots nearly lost traction.

This is dangerous, I don’t know what’s in there. A gust of air blasted around you as if to warn you away. Could be anything, maybe I should wait for- Ah FUCK!

The thought was knocked from your skull when your boots slipped out from under you and you slid ass over teakettle down the icy channel, vanishing into the dark.

~

The inside of the Crest was immaculate, more ship-shape that she had been in a long time. Din had to keep busy, after the repairs were given another once-over and you still hadn’t returned he had started reshelving all the tools and cookware, and only when the last thing left to do was mop did he give up his endeavors. Where the hell is she? He was getting anxious, more so than he usually was. His hands fidgeted with the strap that crossed his chest, thumbing at each of the slugs in line. She should be back by now.

What if she’s hurt? His hands froze on the leather, his breath catching in his chest. He knew you were capable, but what if something got you, or you fell or… or…

“Kid, let’s go.” The ‘what ifs’ that drained out of his thoughts and down his throat turned to bile in the pit of his stomach, and he had to do something about it. She can be as mad at me as she wants, I don’t care, I just need to know she’s safe. Quickly he grabbed a few supplies, loading up his rucksack with rehearsed precision: bacta, shovel, thermos, jet pack, munitions, rations. The foundling gibbered while his papa wrapped him up in a heavy blanket before setting him in his pram. I’m coming, cyare!

~

The slip-and-slide you had gotten yourself into wooshed past your ears, and you could only curl in a ball to protect yourself as you hurtled through the chasm of ice. The violet hue coming through your visor slowly turned to warmer tones as the temperature steadily increased. You struggled to grab a vibro off of your belt as you spun through the dark, but the singing dagger only scraped against the solid ice, the permafrost so old and strong that not even steel could cut it.

Under you the angle changed sharply, tossing you on your ass over another slope before you were falling through the air. You tucked and rolled when you hit the ground, desperately trying not to get your neck broken. Skittering to a halt, you cautiously let yourself uncurl, but what your eyes saw made you think you had landed on your head.

“Woah.”

~

The top of the Crest was still damaged, though Mando knew you had left with the intent to do repairs. Not up there. Your footprints circled around the old ship in a few loops before heading off into the cavern. Fuck, where did she go? The prints from your shoes still glowed faintly with residual heat on his visor, and he checked on the foundling’s comfort one more time before following your trail.

~

The Universe has a strange way of granting wishes.

Crystalline gravel crunched underfoot as you approached the beach you had landed in front of. Mineral-rich water bubbled and boiled in front of you with volcanic heat, steaming up the chamber you now found yourself in. The thick, viscous ooze was so leden with salts that its edges were caked with jagged deposits that lapped against the sides of tall, crested structures that almost resembled a reef. The subterranean coral ranged in size and height from just below your knees to easily three times your height, almost brushing the stalactites that hung from the vaulted ceiling.

You wished you had a holo-corder or data cube handy, because there was no way anybody had been here before, though maybe for good reason. The colors on your visor ranged from bright yellow to teal to hot motherfuckin’ pink, and you lifted your faceplate up to wipe at the sweat that was beading on your brow. The vibrancy of the reef without your sensors was even more garish in person, caught in the radiant light that seemed to drip from the ceiling on the tails of glow worms.

The ground under your boots sounded like glass breaking as you wandered through the cavern, spellbound by the sprawling grove. It took a herculean effort to bring your gaze down to the fob in your hand: FLASHFLASHFLASH! You held the tracker high, doing a little spin to try and locate the target, letting your feet walk on their own. Maybe the coral is the target? Stopping at a particular orange staghorn, you held the fob to its spongy flesh, nope, not this one…

From fan to tube to spiraling tower you walked, holding the fob up to each one in turn, waiting for a solid link. The reef thickened as you moved away from the lagoon, growing in taller and thicker clusters until you had to scrape your way between them to continue. Under your parka you were sweating like a quacta, but the spiny polyps on some of the branches could easily scratch you without it as you wormed your way between them. The crystalline gravel under you started to make a different noise, from a crunchacrunch to a squishasquash. Beneath your boots, long, dark purple roots were growing, pulsating with the fluid that flowed through their veins. Eww…

~

The silence of the cerulean cathedral weighed heavy on Mando's audio processors, more so than the stillness of the air. He was in full hunter mode, following your tracks to where you were hopefully safe and sound, though if he let himself think anything else he worried he might have a full blown panic attack. No, can’t think about that. Find the quarry, find your wife. Don’t think about her being hurt, or lost or scared or…

From the open pram a chirruping coo echoed softly between the towering pillars of ice, bringing Din’s attention to his son. Though the foundling looked alright, the tips of his ears were turning the faintest shade of blue. Din pulled his cloak off, though he needed it just as much in the sub-zero space, his foundling always came first. The fabric heaped out of the pram, almost covering the child completely. If she were here, would she put the baby in her shirt again to keep him warm?

Suddenly he didn’t need his cloak, the fire in his chest surging out to burn at his ribs and scald his cheeks. He stopped, shaking his head at the embarrassment that sprouted from his scorched insides. You’ve got it bad, Djarin. Your tracks had lost their heat, but he could still clearly see your footprints in the snow, and a flood of determination spurred him on. Find the quarry.

~

The dark purple roots lead you to a grove of anemone shaped corals, their thick tentacles reaching for the jagged sky. At the center of their radials sat a fat, lumpy bulb, protected by fleshy limbs. Draped between the spires, more of the icky veins hung like vines, throbbing and pulsing with whatever goo they were filled with.

Touching the blinker to the closest arm, the flashing red light went solid, bingo! “This is it!” Your excited voice would have echoed in the chamber that you had fallen from, but the sponges soaked up your words. You’d left the puck back on the Crest, but you remember you were here for some kind of shape, eggish or stone like, but the waving arms arched upwards into bare, knobbly tips. Fruitless.

That left the pod in the center, probably some kind of seed in the bottom of its pistil. Gonna have to cut my way though. You turned your attention to the viney spires that blocked your path to the center and pulled a vibro from your now sweat-soaked parka. Cautiously, and without turning on the thrummer, you touched the blade to the creeping flesh.

Your knife sank easily, and the fluid that filled the tentacles oozed readily out over the steel. Oooooh, pretty! Though it was mostly clear, the syrup gleamed with a holographic, oily shine, looking like a melted rainbow as it seeped through the wound. The open gash quickly grew new vines that slimed their way around their host trunk, pulsating with goop. Weird.

What hit you next was the smell, an intoxicating sweetness like honey on fruit sitting out on a hot summer day. If the anemone was poisonous, it had a devilish way of attracting its prey, whatever that might be, because the temptation to lick your knife clean became almost overwhelming. That is the stupidest goddamn idea you’ve ever had, get cuttin’, damn it! You hacked and slashed your way to the center, trying to out-cut the regrowth; but the scent quickly made you feel hazy. You reached out to grab one of the arms for support, your cloudy head threatening to toss you on your ass, and the serpentine buds tried to coil around your wrists. Sonofabitch! Fuck off ya big vegetable. Just… just a little further.

~

“Of course this is where she went.” Standing at the crack in the ice, Mando was pacing back and forth with his hands stabbed to his hips. Your tracks ended abruptly at the fissure, and the slick surface told him you had probably slipped and fell into the dark, and he was going to have to jump down after you. The hole stretched far away through the ice, so far that not even his full helmet’s array of sensors could detect the bottom. He rested a boot on the icy surface, giving it an experimental slip. If he fell down the hole as well, he would be no good to either of you.

Every protective instinct told him to jump, go in after you, get you to safety, but his hunter instincts knew better. Fishing the trencher from his bag, he sat down at the entrance and tucked the shovel under his knees, pointy side out. He pulled the foundling’s crib into his lap and carefully started the slide. The shovel blade screeched against the tunnel, and though it couldn’t break the ice it would at least slow him down as he scraped his way through the dark.

~

You were dizzy, the coral’s perfume making you falter. Your goal was so close, but in your haze you were starting to get tangled in the vines that laced through the anemone's arms, and it wasn’t long before they were tangled around your own outstretched limbs. Stupid fern, ger’off me! Yanking against the tendrils only seemed to make things worse, and soon your legs were being caught up as well. Fuckin’shit’it’all. Progress to the core stopped completely, and you stood a moment to catch your breath. Fucksake, this shit is strong! You knew you weren’t moving, but even dazed you could feel something snaking around your boots, and you kicked at the movement, horrified to find that you couldn’t. Shit balls of fucking hell!

The slimy vines coiled around your legs, and you fought valiantly to cut them away, but the more you cut the more seemed to grow like hydras from the anemone's wounds. They were up to your knees, then your waist, and the weight of them started to pull on you until you were dragged to the ground. Struggling in their grasp, they tightened on your arms until you could only writhe like an insect caught in a spiders web. You started to scream, but the creeping thing stuffed itself up under your faceplate and plunged into your mouth.

Something warm and wet oozed between your teeth, and you bit down on the assaulting tendril, only to flood your mouth with more of the sweet syrup. Even in your panic you were taken aback by the taste of it, sweet and rich, almost ambrosial, and a wildly primal instinct told you that you wanted more. Around your limbs the vines were not constricting, merely holding you down, and you took another cautious gulp of the nectar. Your fear began to subside, though in the back of your mind you knew it shouldn’t; you were in a subterranean hellscape, far away from your partner, with some bullshit plant keeping you hostage, but maybe one more taste wouldn’t hurt...

You sucked at the intruder, delighted to find it give you more of the tasty substance, the flavor of it settling warm and snuggly in your belly. Closing your eyes you lapped away, enjoying the hazy, almost drunken feeling that was washing over you. It was blissful and comforting, even wrapped up in the living spires you couldn’t be bothered to care as long as you got to have more.

Something slithered up around your legs and waist, but caught up in the ambrosia you paid it no mind until it was worming its way into the waistband of your pants. Your trousers were pulled down around the tops of your boots, and though the sweltering volcanic atmosphere was making you sweat, the heat burning between your legs almost made the air feel cold. The sudden change in temperature reeled you back to reality, and you tried to spit the vine out while you squirmed in the hydra’s grasp. Another gush of nectar leaked over your tongue, and you greedily sucked it down, feeling another wave of cozy fogginess settle in your head.

Not even the sweetness on your lips could distract you from the feeling of something slimeing its way between your legs, leaving a trail of slick around your entrance. The goop tingled, leaving the same warm and wet feeling behind that it was leaving in your throat. Maker help you it felt good, though some distant instinct screamed to you that it shouldn’t, but you couldn’t hear it if you wanted to. Your back arched, driving your hips against the coils between your thighs, chasing the sensation.

The hydra’s arms pushed their way inside you, many thin strands that sqirmed and writhed, working to stretch you wider. Their efforts slicked past your clit, rubbing the tantalizing ooze around the sensitive little nub while they opened you up. Your hips rocked on their own, though in your captured state you were nearly helpless to chase your own high, but the coral’s limbs worked you up for you. Inside you could feel them, sliding past each other in the warm slick in tandem with the rubbing on your aching clit making you obscenely wetter.

You cried out around the knob still in your mouth as a thicker arm started to push up into you, gliding through the slick nectar. The smaller vines coiled around the newcomer, spiraling up its length as it started to pump in and out of your dripping cunt, adding ridges to the smooth length. Fuck it’s thick! The ties on your legs held you in place as the tendril fucked itself into you, twisting and slimeing around your insides. Hot streams of juice, both yours and the hydra’s, coursed down your thighs almost embarrassingly fast, and you choked and gasped around the spigot while you came.

As if it was emboldened by your orgasm the tentacle surged up into you, leaking what felt like gallons of the wonderful, mind numbing nectar into your fluttering cunt until it was pouring out of you. It thrust against your cervix, dragging the smaller tips around the sensitive muscle. More of the threadlike tendrils tried to push in with the larger one, plucking at your clit and folds and playing you like a sinful harp.

The sensation of it all stoked fire in your core until it was nearly burning you alive, and you gladly let the blaze consume you as the devious creature fucked you stupid. Warm juice practically gushed out of you when you came again, squirting all over the arms that held you captive. Your legs were pulled further apart, anything to open you up to fit more of the sneaky devils in you until you were stretched as wide as you would go, the girth of the serpentis shaft pushing against the bones of your hips from the inside.

Slicked thoroughly, the widest arm rolled against the muscle that protected your womb, and even in your lust-drunk state you could feel it pouring its juices into you. The smaller tendrils followed the nectar up into you where no cock could ever reach, teasing at the rim of the protective coil until it started to relax. More pushed past the ring of muscle until you could feel it gaping, holding you open against the large, blunt tip.

The thrusting stopped, and you mewled sinfully around the vine between your teeth, begging it not to, oh fuck please don’t stop! Whatever aphrodisiac you had been pumped full of was screaming for more more more! Your body hungered for more release, as if you hadn’t drenched the surrounding reef underneath you. You flickered an eye open, but the way your back was curved gave you no vantage of the scene below your waist, but you could see the central pod you had so valiantly tried, and failed, to reach.

From a hole in its top grew the amorphophallus that was filling you so deliciously, and you watched in horror as it pulsed something bulbous up its length. The bulge got closer until it disappeared from your line of view, but it wasn’t long before you felt it, something big pushing against your entrance. You cried out against the gag, but you were held steadfast as the rounded thing forced its way inside you.

The width of it knocked against your hip bones until it was past their crest, and you clenched as best you could around the delicious stretch until you felt something you’ve never felt before. You’ve been fingered, you’ve been fucked and loved and filled to capacity, but the weight of something being deposited in your belly was something wonderfully new. The heft of it felt good, filling and wholesome, though the feeling of terror was still trying to permeate your hazy mind, telling you to run, as if you could. Your hands were bound to your sides, but you wanted to rub at your belly and feel what had been put there. The press of another orb teased at your entrance, and you bucked your hips at it, encouraging another fill.

So good! The unknown object settled in your womb next to the first, the size of them pressing against the back of your abdominal wall, any more and you would be showing. A third bulge made itself known, and you seized your coils around it, letting it bring you to release with its stretch. You came around the vines, and the hydra wormed another pod past your cervix, riding with you through your high. A fourth, a fifth, sixth! You forced an eye open, and the swell of your stomach was visible over the curves of your breasts. Fuuuuck, any more and you really might be fit to burst.

Three more times you were gloriously stretched and drained, the exertion of so many orgasms nearly causing you to faint, but you would do so gladly in your heightened state. One more for good measure pulsed into your swollen belly before the vines receded, and the bindings on your arms and legs withered and died. Gloriously spent, you laid on the ground in a pool of nectar and juices, weakly tugging the vine from your mouth so you could gasp for air. With shaking arms you tried to pry yourself free of the dried tendrils, but the nectar that still filled you felt so good that you almost didn’t want to move, lest it drain out.

The first thing you noticed when the effects began to fade was how much the skin on your abdomen hurt, it felt tight, and you weakly brought a hand up to feel it. Maker above! Your belly was full, and you poked at your protruding middle, feeling the pods inside you slosh around in the devious nectar. Warm goo poured out between your legs, making your eyes roll back from the heat. Through your cloudy mind you thought you heard something, something far away that sounded like shouting. The shouts got closer, and you could almost swear it sounded like your name. Maybe it was.

“Tra’laar!” That was definitely your name, though it sounded distant and fuzzy. You tried to call out to the voice, only to cough up more of the sweet syrup that lined your throat. The taste of it was still as delicious as it had been from the beginning, and another blaze of heat coasted down your spine and made your guts clench and your belly jiggle. Licking your lips you called again, this time with enough force to actually make noise, and the sound of corals being torn apart as something barreled through the reef towards you made itself known.

“Tra-” Mando skittered to a halt somewhere beside you, the sound of your gifted name snagging in his mouth. There you were on the cavern floor, covered in dead vines and some kind of goo, but the most distressing sight of all was your sudden pregnancy. Cautiously he approached you and started untangling your arms and legs, trying to clear the offending tentacles away. He kneeled beside you, his armored hands hovering over your rounded shape. “Riduur’ika? Wh- what happened to you?!” His voice was shaking, barely a whisper coming through his modulator.

“Heeeyyy~” You purred, still buzzed on the herbal wine that had soaked every nerve in your body. “Babe… I think… um. I think there’s something… i-inside… me?”

“Well I can see that!” There was some kind of tone to his voice, wedged somewhere between anger and fear and maybe just a sprinkle of desire. “What did this to you?!”

“I dunno... that wiggly thingie got all up in my bisnatch.” You rubbed at your eyes, trying to get some clarity while your armored companion stressed himself to a frenzy. Mama-hen Mando’s fretting started to make you giggle, and the jostling of your laughs had your tummy jiggling with its fullness. Above you your oathsworn was horrified, but all you could see was his silly visor and his twitchy hands. “Prob’bly need to do something about it, don’t we?”

“Fucking hell, cyare! Yes we need to get whatever that is out of you!” He sounded really upset now, panicked even, and you shook your head trying to shake the daze. You started to sit up, but the weight of your womb made it a struggle. “Hey take it easy! Here, let me help you.” His protector instincts kicked in, and he was wrapping himself up around you to raise you to a seated position. You couldn’t help the way you rubbed at your tummy, still riding the high of the juice that coated your cunt and thighs and stuck to the back of your throat. I wonder if I can bottle this up and sell it.

A soft leather hand placed itself on your swell, moving over your taut skin with a featherlight touch. “This isn’t right,” you heard him say, “I should be the one filling your belly, not some fucking vegetable!”

Stupid chuckles burst out your mouth and made you snort, “Pfft… babe are you jealous some fruit by the foot knocked your girl up?”

“Damn it all yes I’m jealous! Of course I am, I'm your husband! And why aren’t you more upset? You almost look like you’re enjoying this!” You ignored him to swipe a finger through the goop on your leg and bring it up to your lips, slurping noisily at the colorful syrup.

“It’s this stuff, it’s tasty! You should try it!” The snap of his visor told you he wasn’t going to indulge you, but his gentle touch was pressing carefully under the drop of your belly, and you could see him watching the way it wiggled. “Bah, you like this don’t you? Don’t lie to me, bucketboy.”

“No!... Well… maybe a little.” He shook his head, trying not to be disoriented by the same daze you were. “We’re getting this out of you right now! Can you sit up? Get on your knees?” He guided you up off your butt and onto your haunches, the weight of your middle lurching forward from the motion, swaying under you. “Stars above, mesh’la, I-I don’t know how to f-feel about this…” He trailed off, torn between seeing you swollen full and knowing damn well whatever it was could probably kill you. “You’re beautiful…”

“Ha, I knew you liked this, now c’mon and get this fucker out of me, yeah?” How the actual fuck were you supposed to do that? Your partner pulled his gloves off and went for the obvious route, sliding his long, calloused fingers up inside your sopping cunt with a curse. Three of his devious digits went up without a hitch in your overstretched state, teasing around to get a feel of you.

“I didn’t know you stretched this wide, cyare, does… does this feel good?”

You shot him a sideways glare, letting your lips turn up in a mischievous sneer. “Ye-yeah, feels amazing.” the ambrosia was still making you sex crazed, and even with your legs covered in your own arousal you could tell there was still more to give. “Din..?”

“I’m right here, buir’ika, I’ve got you.” He scootched back behind you, wrapping one arm in between your breasts and your belly to hold you in place while he hunted through your slick folds. Din had become an expert at finding that naughty patch of nerves behind your clit that had your muscles tightening around his strong hands in seconds, and you let him work your ecstasy right back up. “That’s it, mesh’la, fucking stars I can feel you, you’re close! Come for me, that’s it, that’s a good girl.”

He pressed his helmeted head against your own, burying the sharp edge of the beskar in the meat of your shoulder while you tightened around him. His other arm pressed down on your swell, and the force of your orgasm squeezed something out of your belly and through your channel, rubbing deliciously against your walls as it passed into his waiting hand.

The seed pod that practically popped out of you was a dark purple egg-shaped thing with swirls of green and blue, matching the description of the bounty puck to a tee. Mando brought the thing around for you to see, rubbing at your side encouragingly. It shimmered in the eerie light of the cavern only briefly before it withered in his hand and flaked away on the volcanic breeze. Gone.

“Um, Mando…” You whispered, feeling a weird mix of arousal and fear ooze down your thoat with the unicorn slime, “I think if we’re gonna get them back to the ship, I think they have to, um, fuck... stay…

“Absolutely not! What if they poison you? What if they break open or s-something and kill you?”

“But the bounty-”

“Fuck the bounty!” He roared, “Fuck everything! I can’t lose you, cyare! I… I won’t, especially for a handful of credits.” The desperation that clawed at his voice stung your heart, but you were determined not to fail in your mission, no matter how creepy it was.

“Din,” you hummed, trying to calm him down, “I’m ok, really! Maybe a little mess- Oh~!” The Mandalorian’s fingers slid right back up your weeping cunt, fucking into you mercilously. His rough fingers slid easily through the slick, and he made up for the lack of friction with sheer determination. “Ah! Ah Din! Din yes! Oh yes!!!” High as a kite you went, coming all over his persistent thrusts. His grip tightened on your middle, and another pod escaped your womb.

“I told you to stop trying to fight me.” Oh fuck he’s using that voice! Dark and husky right in your ear, searing electricity over your flesh and blowing up your ovaries. The voice of a hunter, the voice of an alpha, whether he knew it or not. The timbre of it vibrated so low and strong you couldn’t help but whine against the beskar pressed to your face. “You’re going to stop arguing and you’re going to be a good girl and let me fuck you empty so I can fill you right back up. You’re mine, MY riduur, and the only thing that should be inside you is me!” His command flooded with raw power, and you blasted out another pod or two at his words alone.

You were gone, soaked to the core with desire until all you could do was moan into the armor that held you steady. Bonelessly you gave him everything you had, drenching his arms and knees with your holographic slick. Determined as ever, your armored protector pumped into you, cupping your whole pussy in his palm while he stuffed you with his fingers. When you’d rocketed the fifth seed out, you nearly fainted in his arms, drained of all your energy. Your mind was fuzzy, but you could almost pick up the sound of a question making its way over the roaring blood in your ears. “Huh?”

“How many more?” You shook your head, and a furious growl reverberated against your skull. His soaked hand slid out of you and shook itself somewhere nearby, sending melted rainbow goo flying. When the arm coiled around your belly left you, you nearly toppled, but he caught you swiftly. “Drink.” Metal was pressed to your lips, and the broth you had abandoned earlier graced your syrup-coated throat. You’d never been so thirsty, chugging it down until you were coughing, and the hand that held you reached up to cup your jaw, imploring you to swallow.

When the thermos left your lips, you leaned back against your heavily armored partner, letting his beskar hold you up. You were tired of the appetizer that was his fingers, and your swollen belly hungered for the real deal. You needed him. “Dindin… please… please I want your cock!” The body behind you couldn’t go any stiffer, and you felt his clothed erection rub against the curve of your ass. “I know you’re hard, fuck me, please?”

“Not til you’ve done as you're told.” His rasping voice was edged with heavy breaths, whether from the effort of claiming your clutch or trying not to cum in his pants you couldn’t be sure, but it sounded fucking hot as hell either way. Plated arms wrapped around you again, and you were pulled backwards into his lap with your knees thrown over his legs. He prodded your belly, trying to get a count of how many more orgasms he was going to give you. “Four… maybe five…”

Din went for your clit, spinning tight, vicious circles around the engorged nub and making you scream. “D-D-Din!!! Oh yeees! F-fuck me! Please p-please I-I want you in me!” He only hummed against you, rubbing his groin up against your ass to tease you while you came again. He stuffed an ungloved hand up your shirt to find your breasts, tugging and pinching at the sensitive buds until he could feel you shaking in his grasp and pleading for his thick, girthy cock to plow into you and scramble your guts even more than they already were.

For you he was taking charge of the situation, being the anchor you needed to get through this, but behind his faceless armor he was trying not to lose his goddamn mind at the sight of you. Where you sat on him he could grind himself against your soft thighs, and even through the layers of duraweave he could easily imagine himself sliding his length through your slick heat, drenching himself in your cum. Filling that belly. “Come for me again, cyar’ika.” He had to distract himself from his perverted thoughts, though that was becoming an impossible chore. Here you were in his arms, looking like some kind of glowing goddess with your womb as heavy as it was, and he cursed the Universe for giving him exactly what he’d wished for.

Damnation flowed through his modulator at the sound of your begging. “Is that right, cyare? You want me to stuff my cock in this soaked pussy of yours? You’re gonna have to earn it.” He was conflicted about talking to you in such a way, but something about the way he was speaking to you made your muscles clench around his fingers while you moaned against his armor. “You like it when I f-fuck you like this? I know you love these hands, cyar’ika, but if you want me to give you my cock you’re gonna have to come! Come so I can fuck that beatiful belly of yours full!”

Maybe he was talking to himself more than you, but you whined in his arms nonetheless as your walls squeezed and flooded. Another hot wave of slick coated his wrist, and he tossed the seedpod away, diving right back in for the next. His strong palm kneaded at your tummy, taking another count, two, maybe three more. He knew he should still be worried, terrified even, but damn it if he wasn’t harder than beskar. His cock was straining against the inside of his pant leg, desperate to grant his own desires.

“D-Din… w-wait…” He almost didn’t hear you, the thunder of his heartbeat roaring as loud as it was in his helmet, but your wobby arm came back around and patted his leg. “Th-thermos…” The canister was at your lips in a heartbeat, but you pushed it away. “C… Catch…”

Oh! The broth was poured out into the massive puddle under you, whatever, might as well add soup to the mix. He prodded your guts once more, palpating the hard lumps that still sat inside you, two left? “Cyare, that’s it, almost done. Come on, come all over my fucking fingers so I can b-bury my cock in you where it belongs!” You cried into the armor, heat searing from where he was pressed against you to your fluttering muscles to bare down on his fingers with your impending final climax. Dark, sultry praises rasped out of his modulator, so close to your ear you could feel the heat of his breath. “That’s it, ner riduur, one more and you can have my cock. One more and I'll stuff you with my own seed. You want that? Come for me so I can fill you up and breed you like I know you want me to!”

You nodded against him, making some kind of affirmation noise, but the last pod would be the toughest to pull, and he need to make you cum your fucking brains out if he was going to get it. He stopped his thrusts to tease at your stretched walls, rubbing his calloused fingertips against your slicked core. “What was that, riddur’ika? I can’t hear you.”

“Y-yes Din, please…” You were breathless, your words dryer than a desert as they scratched their way past your chapped lips. He laughed darkly against you, reminding you that you should probably stop teaching him new tricks.

“Yes what?”

“Breed me! Din please you big fucking jerk pump me full! I wanna be full of you!”

The cold metal of the thermos was pressed to your folds, making you cry out from the sting of it, but a hot fingertip groped at your clit, spinning one last mindblowing orgasm out of you that nearly rendered you unconscious. The metallic plonk that came from between your legs told you the pod had been captured, hopefully with enough of the nectar to keep it from drying out. Hunting is stupid. Din’s dry hand dug into the flesh of your stomach, searching for any more of the bullshit you had been filled with.

“There. Are you ok, cyar’ika?” Something like a nod wobbled your head, though the darkness coming in around the edges of your eyes told you that might be a lie. “You did so well! It’s all over now, let’s get you back up to the- cyar’ika stay with me!” Limply you laid against him, ignoring his exhausted pleas to slump against the rock hard tent pushing against your ass, trying to get him to make good on his word. You’d never been so spent in your life, as if you’d squirted out your very soul. Blinking your eyes open, you hazily saw the tilted visor of your oathsworn and shot him a lecherous grin.

“You gonna fuck me now like you said you would?”

Mando was rarely as grateful for his armor as he was right now, the cold, emotionless beskar hiding his sweat soaked face and lust-drunk eyes. The way you were watching his visor made him think you could hear the cogwheels in his head spinning out of control. Yes, yes a thousand times yes! Beautiful creature of the stars, more wondrous than any constellation. Her cunt is so perfect, so warm and wet and beautiful and literally gushing with her arousal, just begging for me to fill it. To fill her, Her womb is open, ready and waiting for my seed to be planted, a fertile haven for my younglings. They’ll be so strong, born with daggers in their teeth and songs in their hearts. I want to see her filled. I need to!

“No.” His reply barked dryly through his modulator, chewing on the sound of his denial. “We need to get out of here right now in case that fucking thing decides it wants to go for round two.” The arms that held you together wrapped around your back and under your knees, lifting you gently away from the mess. Weakly you held onto his neck, barely aware of the reef as it passed you by. Staring up at him through tired, tear-washed lashes you were filled with warmth, though not the heat you had felt from the hydra’s nectar. Better than that. Still, though the pleasant sensation was thrumming in your heart and your cunt, you were a bit peeved that he wasn’t going to give you what you’d begged for.

“You suck”

“I know.” The back of his mind roared with desire from hearing you literally beg for him to fuck you full, making his cock throb painfully against his duraweave. Keep it together, Djarin. Stars above he didn’t want to, he wanted to make good on the filthy promises he had poured over you, but there was no telling what else was lurking in the reef. He had to get you to safety, get you to the ship, and maybe then he could indulge himself. Mark you as his territory from the inside. Shaky fingers dug up under the edge of his helmet, and the feel of your skin against his face made him halt. “What is it, ner cyare’se?”

“You’re… you’re a good man. And a good dad.” The Mandalorian froze solid at that one, cocking his visor at you sharply. A new pull made itself known in his chest, something tugging on his heartstrings. Your eyes were closed, having long since given up the ghost as you started to fade away, and it took massive effort for you to drag them back open to see him. “Even if you do fucking suck s’metimes. You take good care’a me, ‘n Beans too, we’re v’ry lucky to have you.” Your words slurred, and you tried to lick your lips to get them to cooperate, but only found more of the ambrosia stuck to your face. You wouldn’t be cognizant much longer. “Thank you, Din.”

His name being spoken by you was more addictive than any spice, and paired with the praise you were whispering against his metal he nearly melted right down to the ground with you. That was all he ever wanted to be. A good man, a good husband, a good buir. Honeyglow flooded his bones, soft and warm and gentle, the polar opposite of the beskar he was covered in. He felt you curl a lock of his hair around in your fingers, the gentle tug on his scalp making him rumble. The life of a hunter was fucked up, to be sure, but as long as he had you and his son, it was bearable.

You kissed at the chest plate you were pressed to, the one that hid the embodiment of your vows safely next to his heart. He pressed his helmet to your brow, and the way you hummed against him in his arms made him want to run back to the Crest where you could have some privacy and peel his armor away, give you what you had so desperately begged him for. Maybe it was the way you were laying so limply against his cuirass, but you seemed so small to him in that moment, like without him wrapped around your body you would dissipate on the volcanic breeze like the pods had. Protect her.

“You’re… welcome.”

Your fucked-out face nuzzled against him, and he couldn’t help but hug you even tighter, making the scent of you coast up under the edge of his armor. It was different, fragrant and succulent though it was probably the juice that still clung to your legs and face. The scent of you was still there, just enhanced by the aroma, made stronger. He took a deep breath of you before continuing through the reef, almost tripping over a low coral when he wavered. Wavered? Why am I wavering?

The sound of a deep, indulgent inhale caught your ears, and you flickered an eye open to see him burrowing the front of his helmet in the fabric covering your breasts. Against you his chest ballooned fully, holding the scent of you in his lungs until it stuttered through his modulator with a curse. You giggled weakly, “Smells good, don’t it?” A low grumble made the plates against you vibrate, telling you the siren scent of the anemone was seeping into his brain. “If you think it smells good you should see how good it tastes! Try some n’ then get’cher self some sloppy seconds, I know you wanna~”

“No! The last thing we need is for me to get caught up in whatever the hell pumped you full of… quarries.” The imagery of that made you chuckle, silly, stupid laughs that bounced off his armor. He was practically jogging now, though you could feel him stumble through the stoney gravel every once in a while as the perfume of the anemone grove started to sink into his synapses. “We’re almost out of here, just a little further…”

“Bah, alright party pooper. I’ll getcha when we get back aboard.”

“Sure, let’s go with that.”

You curled against him, feeling his arms go somehow even tighter. The living fortress that was your Mandalorian carried you with declining ease through the reef, and you could tell from the engine purring away under his armor that he was not nearly as composed as he sounded. One more poke, for good measure. “I love you, Din.”

“And I you, cyare.” His response came out a little cold, but only because he was desperately trying not to melt away into the same puddle of goo you had been turned into. Again you whispered his name, gliding through his ears like a song, and his heart ached to kiss you, to taste the flesh that hugged his Creed-sworn secret so well. He hadn’t heard it in so long before you came, and though his old alor knew it, it was forbidden, meaningless. But coming from you it was powerful, strong enough to bring him to his knees if they weren’t so busy wading through hell and highwater.

Vaguely you were aware of your egress, though most of it flickered in and out of your lust-lost mind. The warmth of the cavern fell away to be replaced with the cold, rushing air of the tunnel as you rocketed back up to the basin. Maybe you were dreaming of the sound of boots crunching through snow, or the soft gibbering of the founding, you couldn’t be sure, but it was pleasant nonetheless. You heard words being spoken from time to time as well, all of them muddied and faint. Maybe they were Basic, maybe Mando’a, but all of them sounded like they cared. Like every syllable and intonation humming through the iron on your cheek was spoken for you alone.

Your Mandalorian carried you diligently back to your broken chariot, trying his best to make small talk with the foundling as he floated along behind. The child seemed worried at the state of his adopted parents, And Din rattled off every reassurance that he could think of, but his legs were starting to weaken from the scent of the nectar so close to his helmet. He marched on through the glacial basin almost on autopilot until the Razor came into view. Warm air sent flurries of snow around him and his crew as the ramp fell open, and blearily he made his way inside.

He had to do something about the state of the two of you, but his knees locked and froze him to the spot, demanding he take a moment to breathe. There it was again, the fruity, summery scent of you that made his dick throb. Damn it all. Shaky steps hauled him through the cabin, and he laid you down on the little cot you both shared. He needed to get your soaked clothes off, but in order to do that he would have to get out of his own armor first. He shrugged off the helmet, though the metal had been protecting him from the temptation of you more than he realized, and the heat that gooped its way through his body from the pungency of your scent nearly threw him to the floor.

Din punched the buttons on his vambrace, closing up the foundling for the night whether he was ready for bed or not. Sorry kid. He peeled his armor away, setting the beskar aside and tossing the soaked fabric into the fresher. Next came your own clothes, and at first he worried he might wake you. Stars knew you needed the rest, but you made no indication that you even knew he was there.

Your limbs flopped like jelly while he tore off your clothes to be chucked into the fresher along with his until you were beautifully naked. Spread like a feast before him on the narrow bed, he couldn’t help but lick his lips. Little shimmers here and there told him that you were still coated in the hydra’s goo, and his first thought was to grab a washcloth to clean you up, but you stretched your lovely arms and made the splashes of color dance like melted candy on your skin, making his mouth water at the sight and giving him a much better idea. Maybe just… just a taste.

~

The faint whirring of the Crests innards caught your attention, and you came back to consciousness with agonizing slowness. You were laying on your bedroll, tucked safely away in the durasteel depths of your ship, though you weren’t sure if it was dark or if you still had your eyes closed. Warm fog settled in your head and wafted through your bones, a mindless comfort that left you blissfully numb. It could have been whatever the hydra had left in you, or more likely, it was whatever activity was going on below your waist. Your breath hitched in your throat, surprising you, but not as surprising as the stars that flashed behind your eyes. “Ah~!”

From between your legs a lusty groan shot right up your cunt and made you fist your hands in the plush fabric underneath you while you came. How is there anything left!? A broad tongue lapped at your clit, slurping away at the remnants of the nectar that coated your folds. The smooth muscle dragged itself through your slit, drinking in everything you were giving before sliding right back to that sensitive little bud to tease circles around it.

“Mesh’la.. I’m.. I’m sorry, I c-couldn’t help it, you taste so good~” The Mandalorian’s baritone rocked you to your core, and another flick of his tongue had you coming all over his face again. “P-please… forgive me.”

“F-f-forgive? Bahh… I told ya it was good, now get lickin’, bucket boy.” You tangled a hand in his curls, pushing him back down to enjoy his just desserts. His tongue fucked into you with reckless abandon, hungry and desperate for the taste of you. He dug his arms under your thighs and forced your mound as tightly up against his face as he could, and you heard him gasp for air between gulps. Exhaustion and pleasure tugged your eyes back closed, and you teetered in and out of consciousness, being brought back to the realm of the living with each fresh wave of ecstasy. Something rhythmic moved against your leg, the muscles in his shoulder thrumming away at something well out of sight. Is he jerking off?

In his hand he was going to town on his aching shaft, using the glittering goo that still flowed readily from your gloriously wet pussy to coat himself in. The coral’s effect had been burrowing into his brain stem from the moment he could smell it, calling to him like some kind of siren; but finally getting to taste it was an otherworldly experience. You had been through enough for one hunt, and though he craved release like a sex crazed animal he would happily content himself with just getting a taste of the ambrosial sweetness while you relaxed.

It hadn’t taken him long to coax the rainbow juices from your stretched folds, and even less time to slick himself with it. For a brief moment he thought he would just lap enough from your wellspring to get himself off, but soon he found himself unable to tear his face away from your delicious cunt, slurping away at the honeyed slick until he was nearly drowning in it. He dragged the colorful fluid around the tip of his cock, almost creaming himself right then and there with the warm tingly sensation that dribbled down his length.

Stars above you were juicy, wet and engorged against his frenzied tongue, though the rest of your body was boneless against him. He didn’t mind holding your legs up on his shoulders while he lovingly cleaned the nectar from the core of your body, in fact he was delighted to be of service. Lost in his indulgences he almost didn’t feel you tug on his hair, bringing his eyes up to meet your own.

“You… you can… in me… please... “ Nothing remained of your shattered mind, but you almost felt bad that he was trying to take care of himself when you were right there, ready and waiting. He shook his head against your leaking slit, dragging himself up for air to answer you, making the hazy emergency lights of the cabin sparkle in the wetness that covered his mouth and chin.

“I shouldn’t, you need to… to rest… ”

“Should’a thought about that before you started tonguin' me. Now get up here and fuck me like you said you would!”

You were starting to wonder if he liked being bossed around, because he growled against your core and yanked you back towards him, burying himself balls deep in one swift thrust. His wet mouth crashed against your own, giving you a taste of your own medicine. Fuck he wasn’t kidding, that’s delcious! He thrust into you with ragged strokes, messy and out of time. Muscular arms wrapped around your body, flooding your senses with the combined scent of him and the intoxicating perfume of the sunken grove.

Din hugged you close to his sweaty chest, digging fingers into the back of your head and the swell of your ass so he could rocket into your wonderous coils, punching the blunt tip of his cock against your tired cervix. His kisses were frantic but messy, all tongue and teeth and heated breaths as if you could do any better. You were almost surprised that you could feel him as stretched out as you were, but the spear of a Mandalorian was nothing to be scoffed at. The girthy thing rutted against your walls, bottoming out with every desperate thrust.

“Not… gonna… last… much... “ He choked on his own words, making a half dozen more ragged thrusts before blasting you full of his cum, painting your walls with his seed. The ring of muscle fluttered against his weeping tip, almost like a tongue that was greedily sucking his cum into your depths. That’s the only seeds she should be filled with, he thought blearily, my seed. His hips twitched against you, giving a few more staggered thrusts to milk himself to completion in your forgiving heat.

Din was panting, driven nearly to exhaustion by the effort of making good on his promises to fuck you senseless. Under him your own breath was stuttered, your chest crushed by his weight. He coiled his arms around you and rolled you both sideways, using the last of his strength to tuck you up under his arm and lay your head on his chest. You murmured something fondly against him as he lazily threaded his fingers through your hair, brushing it out of your face as best he could, but the soft breathing against his skin told him you probably didn’t notice. Soft kisses danced over your face, more for his enjoyment than your own, a fact made apparent by the cutest little snore in his ears. Sleep well, my love. And thank you. For everything.

He could lay there forever, with the weight of you on his chest and the hot slick sliding down his thighs, if he died right then and there he would die a very happy man. His fingers tried valiantly to run themselves down the curve of your spine, but there was no energy left in his body to power them, and he let them rest in the dip of your hips. Your breaths came slowly, a gentle rise and fall that heated his skin where you were pressed tightly against the crook of his neck. Din kissed your forehead again before tangling his limbs around you and burying his nose in your hair. Tomorrow we can get the exterior fixed, the inside is warm enough for now.

A gentle smile tugged at the edges of his lips, making his whiskers catch your hair. And maybe if it’s too cold for the foundling, she’ll keep him in her shirt again. Din couldn’t help but hum at the thought, you all cute and round, even if it was only temporary. By marriage you were a buir to his foundling, as truly as you would be if you had sworn the Creed, but the thought of you carrying his own flesh-and-blood ad’ika was the guiltiest pleasure he could imagine. Now that he knew what you would look like all full and heavy he could more easily indulge those devious thoughts. It was probably wrong to recall the image of you laying on that vibrant nest of tentacles, glowing and radiant and full. And in need. Needing me to care for her.

He wouldn’t admit it, and he knew you were tough enough to take care of yourself as long as you didn’t go sliding down any mysterious chasms, but he loved being needed by you. He loved that the name you had screamed for in that sunken grove was his, that you needed him to rescue you, needed him to pull the pods from your belly. Needed him to breed you. He could hear you in his mind again, you desperately begging him to fill your womb with his warriors, but you had only done so while drunk on the hydra’s wine. Was there any truth to it? Probably not, he’d practically demanded that you beg for it.

But what if there was?

Tired fingers pulled you impossibly closer to him, as if to invite you to sleep in his ribcage, curled up next to his heart. You grumbled in your sleep, murmuring something about tater tots before letting loose a beastly snore. The Mandalorian rolled his eyes, that’s her, that’s my mesh’la, my cyare, my riduur.

And maybe, when the time is right, when the bounties have been collected and the universe doesn’t seem so hostile. Maybe when we find another convert, or even just start one of our own. Someday, maybe...

Maybe I can call her my buir’ika as well.

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#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #self insert #bargaining with beskar

[skinsharpenedteeth]

Here's a post s3 finale coda... I needed Sanders and Lucky to be okay.

----

    The trailer was filled with warm, dust-filled late afternoon sunshine. Walt considered his glass of amber scotch in one hand and the mindless way he rubbed at his bare chest with the other. His heart had been hurt by Jones, but not damaged beyond what his old body could handle. Still, the Valenti kid told him to take a couple of days off so he’d called in one of his part-timers to run the shop. It made his brain itch at what havoc the guy could be doing to his books, but everytime he started down that particular brain path, he took a deep breath in and then reminded himself he’d almost been murdered by an alien… again… and in the grand scheme of things, it didn’t matter. He’d make Michael fix it. 

Thinking of Michael, Walt chuckled to himself.  For a so-called "superior being", Michael was as self-aware as an amoeba. He was a good person though and made Walt miss Miss Nora a little every day. He just hoped somewhere in the universe she could see how good her boy had turned out…. Both of them. 

"Sanders!" 

Walt jolted out of his reverie in time to see the door to his trailer swing open to admit an aforementioned alien. And a dog. Walt eyed the dog with careful interest for a moment before looking up at Michael. 

"What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be with Alex canoodling?" Walt asked. Michael scoffed and took a seat in his favorite chair across from the couch. The dog started moving around the room, sniffing curiously. 

"Maybe I wanted to make sure you had everything you needed before becoming indisposed for a while," Michael teased. It was Walt's turn to scoff. 

"Sure. Pretty sure he has a job to get to at some point. And so do you I might add!" Walt shot Michael a steely glare before continuing. "You could at least do that much since I helped you defeat your piece of shit father."

"Always complaining," Michael commented, trying for heat with his tone and missing the mark only to fall into fondness. The dog was now smelling Walt's socked foot hanging off the end of the arm rest. He watched it before catching Michael's eye and giving an inquisitive nod towards the dog. 

"I brought you a present," Michael offered, a smile lighting his mouth. "This is Lucky. He was Jones', but now he's homeless again. I thought maybe you'd like a companion again. It's been what? Six years since Lady passed?"

Walt sat up abruptly and turned to face Michael head on. He leveled a finger at him while pinning him with a look. 

"You're meddling in my affairs? You? Get your own life together," he accused. Peripherally, he saw the dog jump up onto the couch next to him but he ignored it. He didn't need anyone or anything depending on him. 

"I am trying to. But you gotta admit, if I get shocked up with Alex, you're going to get lonely," Michael tried to reason. He was leaned back in the chair trying to look casual. Next to him, the dog laid down and stares up. Walt continued to try to ignore it. 

"You can't just disappear and make one person your world, Michael."

"I don't plan to. But I also plan to make up for ten years of wasting time. It might take a while," Michael said, with a suggestive smirk. 

"Jesus. You never did learn to think with anything except your dick, did you?"

Michael's smirk grew in responsive. Down by Walt's elbow, a high pitched whine came from the dog. Walt looked down at it. It really was a handsome creature. Some idiot had docked its ears, but it's face was broad and sweet. It's tail wagged in tentative swisher as he looked up into Walt's face. He stretched out a hand to let the dog sniff for a moment before petting his side. 

"What's his name again?" Walt asked, not taking his eyes from the dog. The dog had crawled closer with his forelegs, stretching his back ones out behind him. He laid his head on Walt's leg while Walt continued to pet his side and back and scratch languidly behind his ears. 

"Lucky," Michael replied, voice sounding amused. 

Walt sighed wearily. Damnit. The boy did it again. He'd won. There was no way he wouldn't keep the dog if the dog wanted to be kept. 

"Hope you brought more than just the hound. The Valenti kid said I wasn't to do anything strenuous for the next couple days like haul dog chow or shop for dog crates."

"Don't worry, old man. I'll go get the stuff from my truck," Michael replied, standing. Walt listened to Michael's footsteps recede towards the door and then the bang of the door shutting behind him. 

"Well, Lucky. Guess you're mine now, huh? You got lucky. Guerin's nice, but he's still learning to feed and walk himself. You need someone with some more experience, don't you?" 

Lucky opened his mouth in a doggy grin and rolled on to his side, pushing his legs against the couch cushion until he was half scrunched against Walt's side. Walt smiled back down at him and was pretty glad Michael was such a thoughtful kid.

#s3 spoilers #rnm s3 spoilers #rnm spoilers #s3 coda #michael guerin #walt sanders #lucky the dog #housekeeping

[mrs-hilmarson]

Ocean Eyes (Part 1)

Pairing: Tammy x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.6K

Taglist: @peggycarter-steverogers @imgayandmymomdoesntknow 

A/n: Hey guys. Sorry for the wait. Life has been so busy as I just became a certified therapist and just life stuff in general. This is just going to be a mini fic for fun while I work on writing my next big one- which will be for Cordelia! Literally nothing like Run to Me, so I hope you don’t find it disappointing. Just a little filler while I work out the plot for my next story!

You pulled out your phone, checking the time. 1:53 PM. Your interview was at 2 o'clock and if you didn't figure out where you were quickly, you were going to be late. You walked faster, panic dialing your best friend who had gotten you the interview.

"Hello?" the sweet voice chimed on the other end.

"Sarah! Help! I'm lost," you pleaded, looking at the address on the piece of paper in your hand and trying to match it to the towering houses around you.

"How did you get lost? I gave you the exact address. Did the driver put it in wrong?"

"No. I made the Uber drop me off at the entrance to the neighborhood because his car looked super sketch and I didn't want the mom to see me step out of a car that looks like it was used in a 70's porn film. I started walking and I got lost."

You heard Sarah shuffling around in the background, and what sounded like the tapping of keys.

"Okay, give me the address for the closest house," she said. Your best friend was a life saver.

"Uhhh... 768 Elm Street," you told her, trying not to look suspicious in this wealthy neighborhood.

"Hmmm. Okay you're literally two streets over. If you go to the end of this street, take a right and walk less than two blocks. You'll make it to maple from there. You somehow managed to be right behind her house. It will take you about ten minutes."

Shit.

"No! There has got to be a quicker way! I am going to be late!" You whined, stomping your feet on the sidewalk in frustration.

"Yeah, Tammy is not going to like that. She is very patient but she's got three kids so she really only has enough patience for them. Well wait, hang on a second."

"What? Did you find a quicker route?"

"Sorta. You should have just stayed in the Uber."

"Sarah I did not want to pull up like Will Smith from the Fresh Prince of Belaire, now spit it out already!"

"Well that house you are standing in front of? Technically if you could find a way into their backyard and through the trees... you could get to Tammy's house in half the time."

You looked at the house in front of you. It looked more like a post office than a home. Large marble columns, real gas lamps framing a shiny oak door, and a second floor balcony that seemed larger than Sarah's whole apartment. This is not the type of property you just meandered around on, but this job was also not the type of opportunity you just let slip away by being two minutes late.

You walked a little to the side of the house, and there you found your favorite thing of the whole house: A gate to the backyard.

"I'm gonna do it," you say to Sarah, who had been quiet this entire time.

There was more silence, before you heard your best friend draw in a breath.

"Don't get arrested please. Call me when you're done, or in lock up. Either way, be safe."

Sarah had always been someone who just supported and loved you no matter what. Whether it was moving on a whim to another city and crashing on her couch indefinitely or trespassing through a rich family's yard to get the job that would help you get started on your dreams. She was that type of friend and you loved her for it.

You didn't even say goodbye as you hung up and checked the time again. 1:55 PM mocked you on the screen. You shoved the phone in your pocket before quickly looking around. No one was out and about thankfully probably due to the heat picking up, so you walked briskly over to the gate.

You said a prayer and begged the universe to be kind to you under your breath as you forced yourself to find the courage and flung open the lock to the gate, letting it swing open. You looked around the yard really quickly to find it empty as well. Maybe this wouldn't be hard at all.

You closed the gate behind you and you quickly jogged into the yard. There was a picnic table close to the other side of the fence and you would be able to hop right over! You breathed a sigh of relief because everything was going to plan, until the dog.

A ear piecing yap began sounding through the yard like an obnoxious security alarm. You turned and saw that the back of the home was basically one big window and there inside was the ugliest looking purse dog you had ever seen, notifying every living creature with working ears within a mile of your presence.

You watched horrified as the owner of said ugly dog appeared in the view of the window like some horror movie on a tv screen. An older woman, dressed as if she had been in the middle of a workout, was also now yapping at you angrily and  making her way to her giant window wall.

Your feet started moving before you realized what was happening and you bolted to the back of the yard and onto the picnic table, jumping and throwing one of your legs over the fence. The little old woman made it to a sliding glass door, releasing her dog and profanities towards you.

The dog tore across the lawn, but thankfully was no actual threat. You looked at the woman as you threw your other leg over the fence.

"I'm not a criminal! I'm sorry! I just got lost on the way to a job interview. You have a nice home!" you yelled, trying to prove to this stranger you were not bad, just had poor execution of your ideas. You dropped over the other side of the fence and into the wooded area behind the home, running as fast as your feet could carry you from the angry woman and her angrier dog.

It only took you about a minute of running full force to make it to another fence, a fence you were praying was Tammy's. You ran around the length of it, following it to the front of the house. You shakily pulled out the paper from your pocket and checked the address. You had made it. This was the house. You laughed, more relieved than anything, and jogged to the front door.

You knocked and weren't even able to take a full breath before the door opened.

There before you stood the most beautiful woman you had ever laid your eyes on. Her hair was the color of sand on the beaches of heaven its self and her eyes looked like brownies fresh from the over, and you had the strange thought of wanting to burn your mouth on them.

Y/n, that's weird. Stop it.

You stared at her, trying not to look to heavily at her gorgeous smile at the fear she may think you were looking at her lips. Even though you kind of were. You forced yourself to smile back.

"You must be Y/n," she said, looking at her watch, "and you are right on time. Let it be known I find that super attractive."

You chuckle nervously, unable to process a coherent thought. You really just hoped she couldn't tell you had just ran through the woods to stand stupid on her doorstep. Thankfully it didn't seem like she did and stepped aside, letting you in.

The home was gorgeous and lavish, but also homey and seemed lived in. You could hear the distant laughter of children somewhere in the house and portraits of what you could only assume were those children hung on the walls. You did notice though that there was a lack of family portraits probably due to the husband no longer being in the picture.

Sarah had filled you in a little bit about the family situation. She had worked with them over the summer and was working for them when they filed for divorce. Supposedly neither of them seemed upset by it, but he had still decided to move into another town. Tammy supposedly worked a very busy job and with three rambunctious kids, help was needed. Sarah had helped them occasionally, but Tammy needed something more permanent and hopefully that's where you would come in.

You followed Tammy into a big open kitchen and sat down with her at the kitchen table.

"Can I offer you some tea or water?" she said sweetly.

Even though you were parched from the mini marathon you had just ran, you politely declined. You pulled your resume out of your bag and put it on the table. Tammy reached over and took it, looking at it before smiling back up at you.

"I know Sarah said you had just moved here, so what brought you to town?" Tammy asked.

You hoped the look of confusion was not obvious on your face because you were expecting only questions about the job. You were unsure how useful you would be talking about yourself right now.

"Uh, well I came to town for a fresh start, and with Sarah here, it just seemed like the best place to restart."

"Running from something?" Tammy asked, putting down the resume and taking a sip of something in a mug that had been sitting on the table.

"N-no ma'am. Nothing illegal. I am not a criminal. I told the old lady the same thing," you stuttered.

Tammy raised her eyebrow at the last part, but you kept going to breeze over it hopefully.

"I just- I got my heartbroken and got kicked out of the apartment we shared. I didn't feel like I was making anything of my life where I was and I have such big dreams, but all I found there was pain and complacency, so I came here in hope to change that."

You voice sounded small and you ringed your hands in your lap, nervous that you may have said too much. Tammy's face softened even more somehow though and she smiled at you over the edge of her mug. She stared at you for a moment, her eyes seeming to sparkle. She nodded and looked down at your resume again.

"Well, you certainly have quite an impressive track record here. You seem like a kid expert. And because I already did a background check on you, I feel comfortable saying, if you would like the job its yours."

You sat there at the table, now not trying to hide the stunned look on your face. You had a harder time getting over the fence than getting employed by this woman.

"That's it? You don't need to ask me anything else? You're giving me the job?" you ask, stumbling over your words.

Tammy laughs and it feels like butterflies flutter in your belly. You like to make her laugh, but you aren't sure if she think's you're funny or stupid.

"With my life and my job, Y/n, the thing that is most important to me is being able to trust you. With my kids, my day to day life, and if I need your help with something. Trust and honesty go a long way with me, and you proved that with one question," she said, coming over to you with a glass of water.

You took it with a smile, forcing yourself to take a slow slip.

"Well, you can definitely trust me. And I'd be honored to by your nanny," you say, excitement and nervousness flowering inside your chest.

Tammy smiles sweetly at you.

"Consider yourself part of the family Y/n. Now you do know this is a live in position right? Sarah told you that?"

You nodded, that having been one of the main reasons you wanted the job. As much as you loved Sarah, you did not love sleeping on her couch. Being a live in nanny presented its own set of challenges, but it wouldn't be forever.

"Good. Can you move in today?"

You choked on your water, coughing and spitting it all over your shirt. Tammy laughed at you, and your cheeks burned red. Now you were embarrassed and Tammy sensed that.

"I'm sorry Y/n, I didn't mean to shock you. I just really need your help around here as soon as possible. And it would be better if you just came on in and got to know me and the kids since you're going to be a big part of our lives."

She handed you a paper towel, looking down at you with a comforting expression. Your cheeks burned red again, but not from embarrassment. You looked away and cleared your throat, unsure why you were so flustered.

"Sure. Yeah, no problem. I just need to run home and grab my clothes and things, but I don't have any furniture so-"

"Oh don't worry. You'll have the whole attic. Its renovated and fully furnished and you'll have your own bathroom. You don't need to worry about buying anything."

That was a relief. It would have taken you a while to afford those things.

You got up and walked with Tammy to the front door, her opening it for you.

"Thank you Ms. Tammy for hiring me, you will not regret it. I will take good care of your kids and make your life as easy as I possibly can," you say, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, attempting to look confident and wanting to ensure Tammy she had made the right choice.

She chuckled again, putting a little hole in that confidence, but it was quickly repaired when she wrapped her arms around you. It shocked you and you stood there, frozen for a second before hugging her back.

"I know you will. You're going to be a wonderful addition to our lives, all of our lives," she said. Her voice had a hint of something in it, making it seem like silk, but then you felt her pulling on your hair a bit and you felt like your legs may fall out from under you. Who was this woman?

Before you could assume anything further though, she pulled back and revealed she had taken a small branch with green leaves from your hair. You laughed nervously. Tammy cocked an eyebrow at you and smiled cheekily, holding it up.

"That is a funny story... I can explain that. I promise I bathe."

It was Tammy who laughed this time thankfully. She nodded and played with the branch in between her long, manicured fingers.

"That's alright. You can tell me about it tonight over drinks once you are home. I'd like to get to know you better while we get you settled."

Something about the way she said it made your breath catch in your throat. She smiled at you and you two said your goodbyes. You would text her when you were on the way back home. How strange that felt.

You sat in a much cleaner Uber on the way back to Sarah's, your head pressed against the glass. You couldn't stop thinking about Tammy and it seemed like you also couldn't wipe the smile from your face either. It seemed almost like a dream.

Just then, your phone buzzed and you were pulled from the thoughts of the woman to see that her name was on your screen. You quickly held the phone up to unlock it, suddenly overcome with the need of answering her at a moments notice. Thankfully it was not a message of her changing her mind.

Btw, just call me Tammy. Ms. Tammy is a little formal ;)

You smiled and bit your lip, quickly responding.

Okay, Tammy :)

#oceans 8 #tammy #tammy oceans 8 #sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson #sarah paulson fanfic #sarah paulson fic #mini fic

[luminouspoes]

pick a place to rest your head

summary: when poe returns from a mission, he discovers something happened while he was away, and tries to cheer you up

content: implied/referenced ableism, shutdown, references to panic attacks (not shown), autistic!reader, no pronouns used iirc, swearing

read on ao3

It’s well past sundown when Poe finally finds you. He’d returned that afternoon from a pretty successful mission with Black Squadron and was surprised your face wasn’t among the crowd that greeted them: you were usually the first at Black One, pushing through the ground crews apologetically to hurl yourself into his arms for one of his traditional spinny hugs.

After the debriefing with Leia, he’d searched through the base for you, investigating all your favorite haunts. You were a creature of habit, which he loved, and often stuck to yourself aside from a handful of close friends - himself, Rose Tico, Kaydel, and the rest of Black Squadron namely - you hung with.

It wasn’t that you were shy, because you definitely weren’t that (you were fierce, a little smug, and as much a smartass as he was), it was that you were selective towards letting your guard down around people, letting people see you as more than just a quiet, obedient medic and part-time comms officer.

He’d asked you once why you did that, and you’d shrugged and refused to meet his eye as you answered, “Most people don’t understand me.”

It took a while for your meaning to dawn on him, the pieces coming to him slowly: how you’d cut yourself off mid-infodump if someone you weren’t familiar with approached you and the squadron, how he’d notice your hands twitching at your sides when something happened on a mission that made you happy (things that would have otherwise made you flap your hands in delight if you’d been in private), the way the sparkle in your eyes would automatically fade as your pulled your expression into a neutral expression around superiors.

Poe wasn’t sure who made you think you had to hide the spark that made you such a wonderful friend and a delight to be around, but he was certain he’d like a word with them because his heart broke a little more every time he watched you shrink in on yourself and dull your colors to fit into the boxes you thought were expected of you.

Unfortunately, the fact that you kept to yourself meant that everyone he’d asked had no idea where you’d been. You were good at avoiding detection like that - a little too good in Poe’s opinion, you’ve startled him more than once by being too kriffin’ quiet coming up behind him - but he finally finds you in an unused hanger.

You’re leaned up against a set of crates, legs drawn up to your chest, eyes closed with a pair of headphones on as you rock slightly to and fro - not to the beat, but to the energy thrumming inside you, overspilling into the action that Poe can’t help but be endeared by (he does it himself all the time, too, understands what it’s like for that energy to overflow).

He crouches down in front of you and taps your knee cap. Your eyes fly open with a start, your headphones falling askew as you jump. Poe winces, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, no, it’s okay - wait,” your eyes go wide and you check the chronometer on your wrist, then back up at him, apologetic. “Shit, I lost track of time, I was gonna meet you on the tarmac -” you make a frustrated noise, halfway between a grunt and a whine, and press the heels of your palms against your eyes, which Poe notes for the first time are shining.

His heart sinks. You’ve been crying.

“Hey, it’s okay, I don’t mind,” still crouched, he shuffles around until he plops down beside you. He extends his arm in invitation and you immediately take it, leaning into him and pressing your face into the fabric of his flight suit.

He curls his arm around your back, squeezing your arm lightly. You’d explained once, sheepishly, that his hugs specifically seemed to help best when you were feeling overwhelmed, and it seemed like something definitely overwhelmed you while he was away. “Meltdown or shutdown?” he asks, lips pressed against the crown of your head. After a beat, he also adds, “Panic attack?”

It takes a long pause for you to respond, and he automatically catalogs this: you were having trouble getting the words out, as well. “Shutdown,” you finally answer, and your voice sounds rough even muffled against the fabric.

He rubs soothing circles against your back. “Are you doing better?”

You nod once, and Poe feels some of his worry ebb away. “You feel like talking about it?”

There’s a drawn-out silence, and he starts to open his mouth to assure you that you don’t have to if you don’t have the energy, but you straighten abruptly. You don’t back out of his grasp though, instead as you righten yourself, you scoot closer to him so your legs are pressed together. “Bad shift.”

“Did a mission go wrong?” Poe asks, tipping his head toward you, brow creased. A few loose strands of curls fall against his forehead.

You shake your head, “Went successfully. New comms officer…” you trail off, eyes falling down to your hands, which you’ve begun wringing together in your lap. “Saw me rocking, said things.”

Poe’s mouth disappears into a thin line, his hand curling into a fist at his side. “What things?”

You shrug slightly, “Teased me.”

“For rocking?” Poe says, voice low. He looks away from you, towards the empty expanse of the hanger, anger blooming in his chest. “Who was it?”

“Does it matter? It’s not gonna change anything. People don’t...they don’t understand me, don’t like the way I do things.” You shrug again, but Poe can hear the emotion thick in your voice, registers the history behind the words, and that just makes him angrier , because the universe shouldn’t do anything but marvel at your light, at the way you view the galaxy.

“Of course it matters, you shouldn’t have to -” he exhales sharply, closing his eyes as he tries to pull the words together. Instead of anything profound, he lands on an eloquent, “Fuck them.”

You blink in surprise at him, and he hurriedly continues, “You’re incredible, alright? Anyone who doesn’t see that or wants to snuff out the spark that makes you you is a jerk, and no better than the guys we’re fighting.”

“Poe -”

“The fact that people don’t understand you says a hell of a lot more about them than it does you, because all they gotta do is stop and listen. They’d see how amazing you are, just like the way me and the others do.”

“You and the others are like me, ” you murmur, but there’s a faint smile playing at your lips and he knows you’re taking his words to heart. “Of course you think that.”

“Even if I wasn’t, I’d still think you’re incredible.”

You chew on your bottom lip, “Really?”

“Really,” Poe assures you, pulling you in for another hug. He presses another kiss to your head, and you snake an arm around his torso. “But I am serious, who was this new officer?”

You twist your head, resting your chin just over his heart to look up at him, “Poe what are you going to do if I tell you?”

“I’m going to take it to the General. Hey, listen...the Resistance stands against all forms of injustice, alright? That includes ableism and we’ve got a lot of neurodivergent and disabled people on this base. We don’t need someone wandering around, making our best feel like shit because they’re an asshole.”

You squint suspiciously at him for a half-second, “Nothing else? You’re not going to try and give them a piece of your mind?”

“Would it be so bad if I did?”

“I don’t need anyone fighting my battles for me, not even you, Dameron. Besides, you get into enough trouble on your own, I don’t need you to start getting into it on my behalf.” You huff, staring plaintively up at him and he tilts his head back to chuckle in disbelief.

“I’m not going to say anything, because the worst thing I can do to this jerk is tell Leia. Trust me, there’s not going to be much left of the guy when she’s done.”

Poe sounds entirely too confident for this to just be an imagined example, and you tap him to get his attention. “Has something like this happened before?”

He hums in affirmation, “Couple of times. They get an ultimatum, either they can be reassigned and work on being a better person, or they can leave.”

At your incredulous look, Poe shrugs. “Like I said, the Resistance is meant to be a safe space, and we take keeping it that way seriously.”

You watch him for a second longer, then a grin creeps up on your face and you twist around so that the back of your head is resting against his chest instead. After a moment, you tell him the officer’s name, and Poe’s absolutely delighted by how smug you sound.

It’s a little while later that you leave the deserted hanger, but there’s a skip in your step as you walk beside him towards the mess for dinner, your hands moving freely as you infodump to him about your favorite book series. Every now and then, your hand motions will slow down in hesitation as someone you don’t recognize passes by, but Poe encourages you to keep going with a smile, and to his immense joy, you do.

After a while, he joins in, sharing facts on different things on the Rebellion that you listen to with rapt attention, asking as many questions about it as he did your book series, and for the time being, the war feels a million lightyears away, and so do ableist pricks.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #myfic #hello yes this has been on ao3 for like a month i forgot to post it here oajtojtaojta #this was a self indulgent af fic

[burnedbyshoto]

temerity

― the perfect job for an overworked, tired, and romantic you is obviously a stressful, demanding, but oh so aesthetic coffeeshop. your job only becomes better when a handsome redhead appears through the door with a loud bang, and you can do nothing but fall for him. or the five times kirishima orders coffee and the one time he doesn’t.

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pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader

warnings: cursing, fluff, light angst, pining, coffee shop!au, modern!au, college!au, happy ending, five times he did and one time he didn’t trope

word count: 9,394

a/n: happy birthday to my beautiful love @ikinabi​!!!! this was written for you based off of your favorite tropes including your favorite word, bet you saw this coming a mile away because my interrogation for this was absolute ass. also sorry for the angst, I couldn’t help myself! for the rest of you non-reds, this was a pretty damn fun piece to write. kirishima was modeled after how red sees him too, sorry. I haven’t typed that much in a single sitting in a long time, so it was p refreshing. like always, enjoy and leave a comment if you enjoyed ;-; (oh and thank you all for kiri coffee taste suggestions)

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O N E

Working in a small coffee shop isn’t exactly what you had once thought it to be.

For years you had been attending the small coffee shop just by your university. Most of your studying, homework, and late-night mental breakdowns had taken place in the corner of the shop, hidden from the sight of the patrons, which was conventionally the best spot for the strongest wifi.

You had been there so many times, having tried every single drink on their menu, and had gotten to know every worker there ― including the owners. So when the invitation to work there was brought up the one night you showed up in hysterics because you had lost your other job, it shouldn’t have taken you by surprise.

So now, in your final year of university, you stood at the counter. A textbook cracked open near the register light, the gentle coffee shop tunes playing merrily in the background. The intricate, familiar, and distinguished smell of both fresh and aging coffee beans with day-old pastries soaked deep into every centimeter of the room. 

The coffee shop was typically slow at this time at night, most people, thankfully, choosing to keep their caffeine addictions primarily in the mornings. Or, as a student had once confessed, didn’t want to make your job more demanding, so they made their own caffeinated drink this late at night. Regardless, it didn’t matter; the morning and afternoon crowds at this coffee shop were busy enough for you to be grateful for this downtime, especially as midterm season was beginning to approach. With this upcoming season, you knew you would be pouring liters of coffee down red-eyed, broken-spirited, college students' throats in the coming days.

Humming, you flipped the page of your biochem textbook, information on amino acids and protein structure twisting in your mind. At the same time, you tried to absorb the chaotic, overflowing amount of information presented on a single page. With a pen to your lip, you frowned at the sentence, rereading phrases over and over again as you struggled to figure out just why Hydrogen formation was so important. 

That didn’t last for too long, fortunately. 

For when you were about to scream to your coworker who was hiding away in the backroom about how amino acids could go fuck themselves, the front door slammed open. 

Despite the wooden door being extremely, almost stupidly heavy (to the point where there was a sign that clearly read: YES WE ARE OPEN, THE DOOR IS JUST REALLY HEAVY, outside), it crashed into the wall, causing a loud smack to rattle the shop. You, having been so absorbed in your studies, jumped at the sound. Your body flinched as a surprised shriek left your lips.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry! It said the door was heavy, but I didn’t think it would slam open like that!” came an apologetic and obviously embarrassed voice from the entrance.

Your heart was pounding with adrenaline. You focused your attention on the man who was frantically checking potential damages to both the door and the wall. All while he continued to apologize. 

Red hair and red eyes are the first things you noticed about him.

Red hair that obviously was dyed, red, warm eyes seemed smooth and seemed to melt into sugary brown, and a rather large scar over his right eye that stopped just at his eyebrow. His smile was broad, exceedingly bright, albeit stiff.

Despite your pumping blood and the way that your fingertips tingle with your fear, a smile and laugh pressed to your lips as he fumbled to close the door behind him (although it was nearly closed by the time he fumbled for the metal brass door handle). Pushing up off the counter from where you were lying, you shut the textbook you had, waving off the new customer.

“No worries! Most people either overcompensate or can’t open the door at all,” you explained with a pinching smile, the laughter in your tone so noticeable despite your intent to keep your humor hidden. Your smile and softly thudding heart only seemed to increase stupidly as the red-headed man approached the cash register.

He was dressed horribly.

He wore an orange gym shirt, most definitely worn with age, and a bit too small on his… physique, navy blue basketball shorts that had white stripes on the side of his thigh, and black athletic crew socks with bright red crocs. 

A living, walking fashion disaster.

“Um,” you stifled a teasing snort, “what can I get for ya?”

The man (was he a himbo? he seemed like he could be one through his appearance alone!) crossed his arms across his chest, lower lip jutting out as he read the menu under his breath with curious, wide eyes. His head tilted to the side, his gaze seemingly stuck on a single area of the menu, and with all the curiosity of the world weighing down on you at this one, very moment, you turned behind you.

“Anything catching your eye?”

“This is… uh, this is my first time in here,” he admitted, his gaze falling from the menu, catching your own eye when you turned back around to face him. His eyes were wide, clear as they were alarmingly honest; he paused for a bit before eventually adding, “actually.”

“Well,” you began, your own honest smile brightening on your face, “lucky for you, I’ve tried everything on this menu. Pick your poison, I can tell you what everything tastes like.”

His eyes widen in what you can only recognize as being overwhelmed, but you try to hide the way your smile is turning into a smirk when he begins to list out drinks.

Drink after drink he names, most of them being dark, black, bitter-tasting coffees, and you can see some hesitation in him with each name he lists.

“You don’t seem to know what kinda coffee you like, huh?” you eventually point out once he’s had you repeat the entire menu for the dark roasts the shop had.

“That would be embarrassing if it wasn’t for the fact that I’ve never had coffee in my life before,” he laughed partially in embarrassment, but much more in some underlying mirth and energy, he seemed to easily hold. Energy that seemed to warm your chest more than any cup of coffee on a cold morning. “I’m what you could call a coffee virgin.”

Now that got a snort out of you.

“Okay, coffee virgin,” you teased, immediately grabbing a kids' throwaway cup behind the counter. “You should’ve started with that!”

“I didn’t want to come off as uncultured! I mean, I’m down at the university, the uni down the street, I’m a university student myself! But being twenty-one and never having coffee before? It just seems… I don’t know so unmanly!”

All while he was confessing the reason as to why he had never in his life had a single cup of coffee, you had poured the simmering black coffee that he was most interested in into the cup. It was filled with only a small amount of the black, bitter liquid, just enough to give him a good taste of the drink. Placing the kids' cup in front of him with a satisfactory thunk, you grinned up at him.

His hand was pressed to the back of his neck, an almost shameful look on his face with just the smallest blush brightening his cheeks and ear tips.

“I think it’s cool you’re a uni student without a coffee addiction,” you smile earnestly, pressing the kids' cup closer to him. “Shows a different kind of man that you’re able to handle a workload without a caffeine drip.”

If you didn’t know better (and honestly, you didn’t, you were probably projecting the weird stranger crush you had seamlessly formed on him), you would have said he forgot how to speak. He clears his throat, his embarrassment fading into a small, soft smile, and he picks up the cup.

“Thank you for the sample.”

He takes a drink of the warm liquid, and immediately he seems to crush the paper cup in his hand, a suppressed hysteric of coughing spluttering past his fisted hand on his mouth, tears springing into his eyes. You yelped in surprise, hands fluttering out to smack him on the arm in a failed attempt to reach his back.

“O-Oh my god!” he eventually wheezed, his eyes staring down at the crushed cup as if it was some sort of vermin, a creature that had no use being alive but still pitied it. His other hand wiped at his lips as to rid of its taste. His head snapped back towards you, his eyes wet with betrayal from both his thoughts and taste buds. “Can you do something, not this at all?!”

You purse your lips for a second, thinking about just what could suit his apparent dislike for bitter, black coffee. With a single idea in your head, you leaned forward onto the counter, a smile back on your lips.

“Do you like cinnamon rolls?”

He blinked.

“Who doesn’t?”

“For here or to go?” you asked, head tilting to the side before you eventually remembered that the shop was closing in a few minutes. “Actually, it’ll be to go!”

“O-Oh, okay!”

“Can I get a name?” you asked, your hand grabbing the paper cup and a sharpie to write his name. There was no reason for you to write down his name; he was the only person in the shop right now.

“K-Kiripima,” he answers with wide eyes and red cheeks. Your eyebrows scrunch.

“Kiripima?”

“No! I’m, oh my god, this is so unmanly of me,” he bemoaned, his head shaking. “Kirishima Eijirou! I’m Kirishima Eijirou!”

The pealing laughter that erupted from your mouth stood no chance at being silenced. And so with an embarrassed nod of your own, you pressed off the counter, writing his name was the neatest writing you had, before setting off.

You worked fast behind the counter, making the specialized drink just for the blushing himbo of a man before you, well, at least until he interrupted your chain of thoughts and actions.

“Biochem, right?”

Placing the cup where the steamed milk machine was, you turned to look at Kiri(p)shima, who was pointing at your textbook with an all too familiar look on his face that told you he recognized it.

“Unfortunately,” you smiled at him, eventually shrugging. “I also go to the uni down the street.”

“Aw damn, sucks I’ve never seen you there before!” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck when he glances up at you from the textbook before looking back down. “I took this class last semester!”

“Oh? Who’d you have?” you asked, continuing on with your work, your suspicion of him being a himbo slightly dwindling.

“Chaney!” he responded, and you looked over at him; you had him this semester, too. “It was the worst! I dropped out the first week! Didn’t help that I thought biochem was a split biology and chemistry course… teaches me not to listen to Kaminari and Mina… ah, I mean, my friends!”

Himbo indeed.

Laughing at his flux in judgment, you placed the steaming cup of sweet, sweet coffee in front of Kirishima, hands pressing onto your hips as you did so.

“How about this?”

You watch as the redhead grins at you, picking up the cup of coffee and drinking it despite your last second squeak that it was probably way too hot to be consumed.

“HOLY SHIT! This is so much better! It tastes just like cinnamon rolls! Bro, you have some serious talent!” Kirishima yelled, his eyes not quite as bright, but his smile definitely still as warm. “How much will it be?”

“On the house,” you admitted with a shrug, your cheeks warming with his look of disbelief. “I took your, uh, coffee virginity away and nearly killed ya, it’s the least I could do!”

Kirishima narrows his gaze on you, his smile softening in tandem while he looks over at the menu again, taking another stiff sip of the coffee.

You watch as he takes his wallet out of his pocket, and with a little effort, pulls out two thousand yen.

“For the next few customers then, yeah?” he smoothly states, already moving back towards the door long before you could demand that he come back and take his money with him.

“Hey!” Kirishima yells, his hand had opened the heavy ass door with no problem or strain. “What's your name?”

“Why?!” you yelled back despite your instincts screaming at you to tell him your name.

His grin stretches so widely you take notice of his glinting, almost abnormally sharp canines from the counter. 

“So, I know who to blame for my caffeine addiction!”

You laugh.

“Y/l/n y/n,” you smile, your stomach flipping at the way he seems to brighten with that information. “I promise that’s my real name too, no mess-ups.”

Kirishima laughs, red staining his face.

“Guess we can’t all be as amazing as you, huh?”

You didn’t get the chance to even scream in your fluster because he was already gone. The heavy wooden door closed by the time your coworker emerged from the back, an all too curious look on their face.

“What was that?”

You shrug, a smile stretching further on your face.

“Hopefully, a new regular.”

T W O

“Kiripima!”

If there was a way for you to not giggle at the way Kirishima nearly slammed the door through the wall in his shock embarrassment, you would have liked to know.

“My name is Kirishima, y/l/n!” he yelled back, his cheeks the same color as his spiked hair. “I mean, if you want to call me Kiripima, that’s okay! It’s just… my name is Kiri-shima!”

“Sorry, sorry, Kiripima was too cute to resist!” you admitted with a smirk, your body leaning forward, elbows pressed onto the counter, hands pressed against your cheeks. “What can I get for you so late at night, Kiri-shima?”

Kirishima smiles broadly, his hands sinking into his pockets as he walks over towards you and the counter. He’s dressed much more normally today, he wore black jeans that are slightly dirty with some sort of white powder, and his shirt is a crimson red. It’s tight against his biceps but fits him much better than the last shirt he wore, and on the fabric right above his heart, lays a simple print: FATGUM’S GRUB.

“Nightshift, unfortunately, finally caught me this week!” Kirishima sighs, his shoulder-shrugging but the smile remaining just as firmly on his face. “It’s no biggie, though; it’s for one of my bros who needed the night off!”

“Oh, so you’re an everyday hero?” you tease, enjoying the way that he grins wide enough to show off his sharp canines before it humbles into an embarrassed smile. “How manly of you.”

“Nothing anyone else wouldn’t do,” he mumbled, his gaze falling to your shoulder in his embarrassment.

“Alright, alright, if you say so,” you relent, sighing softly before straightening up and smiling up at the red-haired man who was busy taking in your menu once again with significant hesitation. “What can I get for you this time, Kirishima?”

Kirishima’s eyes glinted over, a laugh once again rumbling in his chest before he sighed, “What do you suggest for me, y/l/n?”

And so, at nearly ten p.m., you stood behind the cash register, Kirishima’s coffee long since given to him, and the two of you were intently talking, laughter and enthusiastic yelling being exchanged fervently.

You learned his name was Kirishima Eijirou; he was twenty-one years old, born and raised in Musutafu. You knew that while yes, he most definitely a himbo (something you confirmed with strategic questions, and not straight up asking him), he was an engineering major! He played a ton of sports but seemed to prefer heavy contact sports, rugby, and soccer being his top choice of sport. You even found out that this man (who often used the term manly in a way that meant ‘approved by Kirishima’) was the biggest fan of the old movies and comic book hero Crimson Riot. You figured this out when he pulled out his phone to show you a picture of his new goldfish and accidentally revealed his lock screen being him and the famous actor behind the superhero.

“You’re telling me you’ve NEVER seen an All Might movie, but you’ve seen ALL the Crimson Riot movies?!” Kirishima yelled, his arms shooting out past the counter to grab you by the shoulders, shaking you intensely with the biggest, goofiest smile on his face.

“Be careful with your coffee!” you squealed, trying to keep his elbow from knocking over his cup that had still gone untouched.

“Y/L/N!” he exasperated, pulling himself in closer to you, his eyes wide and bright, quickly drowning you with his radiant energy and overwhelming enthusiasm. “Answer!!!”

“Oh my god! Yes, Kirishima! I have never seen an All Might film but have seen every single Crimson Riot film!” you confess, your cheeks hurting from your laughter, and growing sense of embarrassment because everyone in the world has seen the All Might movies!

Hell, even people who weren’t from Japan had seen them all!

The movie superhero was a blockbuster smash with every movie they did!

“Why not?! How not?!”

“Because my dad never let me watch them growing up because the guide warnings,” you wheezed, your stomach cramping with your laughter, your hands grabbing onto his sturdy ― and holy fuck, were they sturdy ― biceps trying to ease his excited(???) shaking. “Besides, my dad is a hardcore Crimson Riot fan; he would have a heart attack and die if he heard that I went to go watch an All Might film.”

“Holy shit,” Kirishima breathed, a glazed over glee washing over his face in some euphoric bliss. “Your dad… is so manly, I think I could marry him.”

Your laughter only grew when Kirishima wiped tears from his eyes, and you patted his arm in your condolences.

“I think he would not take to someone claiming to be the biggest Crimson Riot fan!”

Kirishima grin only grew, “Bet he wouldn’t!”

You tilted your head, your smile becoming a bit lopsided, ready to take that bet right there, right now. You knew your dad was most definitely still awake at this time.

But the words never got to pass your mouth because as soon as you opened your mouth to speak, a loud ringtone interrupted you.

You also hated the fact that you recognized the ringtone to be the Crimson Riots theme song.

Kirishima’s warm hands pulled away from you, his overeagerness abandoned as he pulled out his phone and pressed it to his ear without checking who was calling.

“It’s Ei, talk to me.”

The nickname of his first name caused your stomach to flip, his smooth baritone voice easily sending shivers down your spine. Still, with the mention of such an intimate nickname… the chill crawling down your spine, teasing every nerve in your system, was inevitable.

You watched Kirishima’s face. The way that he easily took in the words of whoever was on the other side of the line. The smile on his face remained if only muted just a bit as he agreed left and right with whoever was on the other side.

“Nah, I can get there in a few! Don’t worry about it, Fat, I normally show up early to shifts regardless, I don’t blame ya! Yeah, yeah, okay, yeah! Yeah! See ya soon!”

Disappointment blossomed in your chest, the horrible feeling of having to say goodbye to a customer who had only come in twice! Twice! Most times, you never wanted to see any customers, even some regulars, more than once in your lifetime! But again, there had been no other customer in your life as a barista that had been as kind, friendly, and hot as Kirishima.

“Well, I gotta go now,” Kirishima softly sighed, his lips pressing into a half-smile, his eyebrows scrunched together in his (maybe) reluctance to leave. “Fat, er, my boss, got overloaded with the late-night munchies, so…”

“Time for the fanboy to leave?” you finished for him, your fingers looping into your apron, your eyes glancing at the clock that showed you that you should’ve been cleaning up five minutes ago.

“Yeah, sadly!” Kirishima laughed, his hand grabbing the coffee and pocketing his phone as he made his way to the front door. You followed after him, ready to lock the door after him in case some desperate customer tried to come in. “Well, thank you for the coffee again! I gotta see just how much you know about the greatest superhero ever the next time I drop by!”

You smiled.

“Next time?”

Kirishima paused for a bit, “Yeah, next time!” he pushed through the front door, and you watched as he exited the shop, his body turning so he was looking at you while he walked backward. “I told ya, y/l/n, it's pretty unmanly of you, but you got me hooked on caffeine!”

There was no time for you to argue otherwise because he turned on his heel just as quickly and began jogging off to his own job.

“You’ll close up by yourself?” your bitchy coworker asked, and you startled, seeing that she was also pushing past the door. “You kept us over way later because you can’t stop flirting with the customers, which by the way, is against protocol.”

You roll your eyes.

“Yeah, whatever, bye.”

T H R E E

“Next in line, please!”

It was busy.

As you had once thought many, many weeks ago, the midterm season had finally come with full force, and it was horrible. There were at least four crying college students found in any of the studying rooms the shop had from sun up to sundown. Some of the students were found soaking their tears onto the worn leather sofa, some moments from dying on the plenty of counters and tables.

On multiple days there had been students who stayed the entire day, drinking whole pots worth of black coffee when they were ordinarily sweet coffee drinkers. You had to give some freshmen girl a tight hug the other day who was seconds from taking a W on her transcripts because she absolutely could no longer handle her math class. You had the unfortunate time of giving a student the news that no, today was not Thursday, it’s Friday, so yes… they missed their midterm for a professor who would refuse to reschedule any missed exam.

But it wasn’t all too bad.

Kirishima had been showing up practically every day now; he would order a pastry every time, opting out of a drink by showing you his three-liter water bottle. It was nice to have someone like Kirishima around (partially because you usually worked with a younger coworker,) who was both strong and sweet. He wasn’t majorly concerned about his midterms, stating that he had study groups with his friends and had been on top of his game and only came to the coffee shop to do light personal studying. So, during your mad dashes to make the 2,783rd cup of coffee within your shift, you couldn’t help but glance over at Kirishima, who was comforting crying students. When they weren’t crying, and you weren’t desperately trying to appease the caffeine raged customers, he chatted with you, seated on the counter by the coffee counter.

Having him around so much was actually both making your day better and much, much worse. On the one hand, that meant that since you were paired up with coworkers you didn’t get along with, you had a fantastic company that literally made the nights go by so fast as you and he became closer and closer friends. But, on the other hand, it also made your once attraction to him, having been solely based on physical looks to bleed over to personal traits, and you wanted to cry with every poor attempt of flirting that flew over his head.

However, you did get to learn that 1. he did, in fact, dye his hair red because you had the privilege of seeing his black roots. And that 2. despite his phone being filled with the craziest metal and rock songs, he really only listened to a playlist buried in his phone that was filled with soft acoustic guitar and sweet bubblegum pop songs. It was great.

But it was no time to think about your tall, red-headed crush. You had much more pressing issues with the large coffee crowd in front of you. It was rush hour, and since you were scheduled for tonight's shift, they asked if you wanted more hours for today since they were training someone new.

Obviously, you had agreed.

You had forgotten the horrors of rush that included sleep-deprived, caffeine-infused insanity of students coupled with the ever-demanding adults with jobs that they very much needed to return too. It was always horrific.

But you for sure never expected to see your crush before you.

“Kiri!” you smiled, the smile on your face was one of pure exhaustion and joy of seeing your friend crush. Your gaze quickly dropped away from him, your eyes returning to the paper cups you held, writing in their orders and name as quickly as you could. “How can I help you?”

Kirishima visibly gulped, and you froze a bit before setting down the large order on the counter for your coworkers to eventually get to. You knew by the pile-up on orders you would be switched out with the new hire after Kirishima and the person behind him.

“I, uh, I need to ask you something!” Kirishima spoke sharply, his arms stiff at his side. His usual kind and gentle smile on his face is mechanic and dull. He was… he was sweating? Pity filled your stomach; maybe he had done terribly on a midterm.

“Do you need a new coffee rec?” you immediately ask your mind on the set menu behind you, trying to come up with a coffee just sweet enough for the charming man in front of you. “You haven’t had a drink in a while, I don’t remember what you had last, though.”

“No, not that! I have a… well, I have a confession!” Kirishima tries again, his body somehow becoming even stiffer as he nods his head in growing speeds. “Yup! A confession!”

“Would ya hurry it up, kid! Some of us got work to get to!” came a crabby voice from behind Kirishima, and you winced, looking past your crush to the eldering man who looked like he was eating and shitting stress every day for the past three years. 

“Sir, please calm down, it won’t take too long,” you frowned, not at all happy with the sheer impatience of the customer. You turned back to Kirishima, an apologetic look on your face. “But a confession? Okay, well, actually… I have one for you as well!” Maybe you could get yourself to confess you liked him?

But the old man’s interruption seemed to have calmed Kirishima down significantly, who snapped out of his haze.

“Sorry, sorry!” he apologized to the man behind him, bowing deeply for his troubles before facing you again and laughed. The palm of his hand hit his forehead as he groaned lowly. “Sorry, this is so unmanly of me, y/l/n! I mean, I shouldn’t even be doing this because you’re working, but I finally… I just…”

He trailed off, and you found it impossible to follow his train of thought, something you weren’t too bad at doing.

“Just what?”

It was with that the world seemed to still.

The noise of the busy coffee shop, the hustling of your coworkers, the chattering of the studying students, and business calls going mute as you stared up into Kirishima’s red, comprehensive, honest eyes.

“Well, it’s just that I, um, I--”

“Listen, kid,” the man behind Kirishima snapped at him. “I have twelve minutes to gather my drink and make it back to my meeting with my executive board. And you’re holding up the damn fucking line! Make up your mind on what coffee you want, because you’ve been in this line with me for almost ten minutes, order it and pay! Let’s get moving!”

“Sir!” you gasped, horrendously mortified a customer was acting like that! “That’s incredibly rude! He hasn’t even been here for a minute!”

“It’s actually been three!” he sneered.

You opened your mouth to retaliate, not at all positive if it had been three minutes because by god did you get lost in Kirishima’s eyes.

“No!” Kirishima interrupted you before you could begin, and you looked up at Kirishima, who looked like a kicked puppy, and that sent your heart into a whole series of palpitations you didn’t know would happen with him. “It’s fine, sorry, I got worked up… um… one of my best bros likes his coffee black, and well, I like it now too. A regular black coffee, to go…”

You didn’t even get a chance to say anything, Kirishima slipping the exact amount of money for the drink before disappearing into the crowd.

Your sight narrowed when it befell onto the old man who looked proud of himself, “Finally! Now, let me see what you guys have! I don’t know what I want!”

F O U R 

Kirishima was late.

So late, so very, very late.

He checked his phone for the time yet again, somehow praying that in the last time he had checked his phone (which had been three seconds ago), the time hadn’t shot forward by ten minutes, and by the spirit of god had maybe, possibly rewound by ten minutes. He only hoped that he wouldn’t show up too late today; he actually needed something with caffeine to keep him awake today.

But he saw the coffee shop straight ahead, the small white light by the front door still buzzing and bright with the illuminated: OPEN! sign. Kirishima barreled through the front door with now practiced and known strength, his forehead sweating profusely, and his heart hammering in his throat.

“I’m… here!” he panted, his eyes finding yours as you were cleaning up the counter with a disinfecting liquid and cloth.

He had seen you yesterday, but still, seeing you at the counter, your gaze on what you were doing was like an arrow to his lungs. He looked at you in his personal slowed downtime, the way that the halo of frizzy, curly, flyaways from your hair gleamed softly with the backlight, the warmth of your skin, the gentle flutter of your eyelashes as you looked up, and he was met with the depth pool of your warm eyes.

Beautiful.

His eyes fell onto your lips, and noticed they were moving ever so slightly, and he realized that he couldn’t hear what you were saying.

All the tables had been wiped down, the chairs by the table turned upside down, laying on the tabletops. The floor still streaked with what was definitely a mop, and guilt bubbled in his stomach. You were closing up, and by the looks of it, were nearly done as well. 

Kirishima paused, he was here one minute before closing, and he froze. The heavy wooden door closing behind him with an awkwardly loud thud that only seemed to thunder in his ears as the world finally caught up.

“―anything?”

Kirishima blinked, his cheeks exploding with heat.

“What?”

He hadn’t heard you utter a single word.

He watched the way your lips pulled into an endearing, yet slightly exasperated smile, your eyes rolling.

“Did you want anything?” you repeated, hands placed on your hips in a taunting, near commanding way. “Coffee’s still on the pot, so if you want anything, let me know!”

“Did you already clean up?” Kirishima asks, his eyes falling to the floor to find the different wet streaks on the tile and avoid them if his shoe was dirty. He stops when he sees the cleaned and cleared coffee counter, and guilt floods him. “It looks like you’re mostly cleaned up; I don’t want you to get things dirty again, it’s okay.”

“It’ll take me five minutes tops to clean back up!” you retort, hands already moving to grab a to-go cup for him to have.

“No, no!” Kirishima exclaims, moving back towards the door as fast as he could. He didn’t want to cause you more work, and if anything, he would just wait for you to leave the shop, and he would simply walk you back to your apartment! That seemed like the more manly thing to do, right? “It’s okay! I’m okay! I’ll live without a cup!”

You snorted, slamming the cup onto the counter with definitive intentions, “Don’t be ridiculous, coffee addict!” you pointed to the spot before the cash register, pen in hand as you readied to write down his order. “Come. Don’t be silly! Can you turn off the open sign for me, though! What do you want?”

“I feel bad,” Kirishima frowns, turning off the neon light per request before turning back towards you. His hands stuffed into his pockets. “You don’t have to do this.”

“No, I don’t have to,” you say with a grin and a roll of your eyes. “But since I’m the reason your addiction is a thing, I’m more than happy to deal with the consequences, Kiri.”

There’s a beat, and Kirishima walks to the counter, his lower lip jutted out in a small pout, but the energetic smile painted on your lips melts his pout into a smile immediately.

“What do you suggest?”

“Café de Olla.”

His face scrunches at the so, very not Japanese words that come from your mouth.

“Cafe de la what?”

He watches your smile brighten by a tenfold, enjoying the way your eyes easily glitter with your mirth as you turn away from him.

“Café de Olla,” you repeat again, and he can only assume it’s Spanish. “It’s a Mexican coffee, that one of the transfer students we hired from Mexico introduced us to!” Kirishima watched as you went to a small pot of coffee, put a cleaned ladle in, and eventually poured in a slightly steaming cup of dark coffee. “I can’t remember the ingredients, but the main one is cinnamon! I know you like cinnamon, and since you’re a big boy black coffee drinker now, I think you’ll like it!”

Kirishima missed the teasing look on your face when you placed the truly dark coffee in front of him.

“Um,” Kirishima nervously laughed, staring at the cup of dark liquid before him. He hated black coffee. “Are you… are you gonna put any sugar or milk in it?”

“Nope! Drink up, handsome!”

Kirishima whimpered at both the nickname you had been calling him as of late and the coffee before him. Eventually, he picked up the warm cup, not at all deceived by the warm, sweet aroma of the cup of coffee in his hand ― the black coffee had smelled sweet too. Not one to back down, especially as you were in the process of cleaning up for the day, he took a hesitant, gentle sip of the coffee and froze.

Despite the bitter, dark persona the steaming cup gave, the liquid was sweet.

Very sweet.

It was light in its spice, warming him gently, and giving him a world of flavors he hadn’t been aware of. He drank the rest of it eagerly.

“Good, right?!” you exclaimed excitedly, having caught onto what Kirishima already knew to be his unmistakable likeness. “I wasn’t too sure of it at first either! I mean, I don’t really dabble with straight black coffee, but this just hits differently!”

Kirishima placed his sample down, the back of his hand rubbing his wet lips, his smile wide and excited. He couldn’t believe he actually liked a cup of coffee! “That was SO good, fuck! I didn’t think I was going to like that! Can I have a cup of this?”

He watched as you nodded your head excitedly, more stray pieces of hair falling out of place, framing your face even more as you grabbed the cup and made due to filling it up. Kirishima watched you the entire time you filled his cup up, his fingers blindly holding his bills of cash to give to you.

‘I’m going to do it,’ he thought as you placed a lid on the cup.

‘You got this!’ he encouraged himself as you walked over, handing off the warm cup into his hands. He softly smiled at the feeling of your warm, soft fingers brushing familiarly against his own.

‘DO IT!’

“Y-Y/l/n―”

“Babycakes, are you done out here?!” a voice hollered, and Kirishima stilled when a face emerged from the back. “I’m exhausted and ready to go!”

He watched as a tall girl with green eyes and brown hair emerged from the back room, her arms stretched precariously over her head, stepped into the bar. And the world slowed when her arms quickly enveloped you.

It was then that he remembered what you had said yesterday. The way that your face morphed from apologetic to bashful, the fluster in your eyes, and the way you bit your lip nervously as you said you had something to confess to him… was she… your confession?

“Ami!” you spluttered, and Kirishima watched the way the girl who was draped over your body, much taller than you were, smile at you endearingly as you, in your fluster, failed to get her off. “Kirishima ― a customer is here!”

The word customer echoed like a bell in the world's deepest cave in Kirishima’s ear.

He was just…

He was just a customer, after all.

His smile faded from a genuine one to a phony one as he watched your coworker/girlfriend fight you on showing affection, and eventually, you won. 

“S-Sorry about that!” you stammered, trying to fix your outfit, your hair chaotically was undone. His throat nearly sealed off when your pristine eyes locked back up his; he felt light under your gaze, but oh, so, cold. “You were saying?”

“Just… um, thank you!” Kirishima mustered a feeble laugh, his hand grabbing the coffee in his hand, and without so much as a goodbye, he left the coffee shop. Your echoing salutation doing nothing but making him nauseous as heartbreak overtook him.

F I V E 

The last time you had seen Kirishima, you served him the café de olla during that night, which was weeks ago.

By weeks you meant nearly two months; finals season had just finished.

Despite your obvious disappointment in not seeing the one person you were enamored with, you reasoned with yourself with every disappointing redhead who would enter the coffeeshop that you had never asked for his phone number, and he was an engineering student. He had to be busy.

Even if he wasn’t busy, you tried to reason, your brow set in a knit position as you washed the ceramic cups in the sink, he had every reason to never show back up again. He wasn’t your boyfriend or anything…

Thankfully, you heard the all too familiar sound of the front door being opened, and now with new company policy, you called out in greetings.

“Welcome!”

You quickly patted your hands dry on your apron, knowing that your coworker was on break at the moment, and turned to the entrance of the shop, and froze.

It was an all too familiar head of bright red spikes.

“Kiri!” you exclaimed happily, rushing over to the register with a bright, wide smile as you restrained yourself from flinging over the counter and hugging him tightly. Of course, that would have been both unprofessional and probably pushing the boundaries of your friendship/one-sided affections. “It’s been so long, how are you?!”

Kirishima stood on the other side of the counter, his hands shoved into his blue hoodie pocket, his eyes for the first time ever almost empty, the smile you knew he wore almost religiously, nowhere to be seen. In lieu of the smile, were lips pressed into a stout line, his face puckered just slightly enough as if he had smelled something sour moments before.

What was going on?

“You okay?” you ask, your once outstretched arms retracting into yourself, seeing that he was not reciprocating your movements. Your head tilted. “Did something happen?”

“Yeah, Ei,” came a new voice. “Is something wrong?”

You almost startled when a girl with curly, pink hair seemed to appear from behind Kirishima. She had eyes of liquid gold, and a teasing smile on her face as she nudged Kirishima. “What’s going on?”

Your stomach flips in unwelcomed jealousy, your teeth biting the inside of your cheek in hopes that the girl wouldn’t catch on.

When the seconds felt like minutes of silence, the girl merely sighed, her attention focusing onto you with a look of slight mischief.

“Please excuse my friend―” you relax with the f word― “we’ve been friends since grade school, and he’s never been like that! Maybe he caught a bug during breakfast?”

“Mina…” Kirishima spoke softly, not quite a warning, not quite a whine.

“You must be the famous ‘y/l/n,’ I’ve heard so much about you!” the girl ― Mina ― exclaimed excitedly, her hands grabbing yours while nodding excitedly. “When I heard that Ei hadn’t gone for coffee in so long, I obviously had to force him to come! That and he totally made one of our friends throw away my coffee, and I need the coffee in my bloodstream to survive my dumb classes!”

The one-sided tension between you and Mina expelled quickly.

“Kiri hasn’t been here in a while, but I’m sure he’s got his reasons,” you defend your crush, your smile soft as you traded your locked gaze on Mina to look at Kirishima, who weakly, barely, horribly returned the smile. “But I can definitely help with the coffee! What can I get for you?”

“Good question…” Mina sighed, her eyes studying the menu with practiced skill.

Eventually, Mina ordered a chai tea latte with an oat milk substitution, a pump of caramel, and two shots of espresso. She squealed with delight when you placed her order in front of her, and maybe had you not been excited to get Kiri’s answer, you would have noticed the way his friend strategically walked towards the door to give you two your space.

“So, how can I help ya, handsome?” you ask, your smile back to full power, although a bit shy, unaffected by the brick wall of a man before you. “We’re out of the café de olla right now, but if you don’t mind waiting fifteen minutes, I can make you a fresh batch!”

That’s a lie, the pot of Mexican coffee is still completely filled, ready for Kirishima should he want it. But you were selfish; you were trying to get him to stay longer.

“Nah, that’s okay,” Kirishima shakes his head. “I don’t wanna bug ya. I’ll just take a caramel latte, no worries.”

Disappointment rams through you, but you try your best at hiding it.

“Oh, okay! I’ll get that started for you!” you try to chirp, grabbing a to-go cup and beginning the relatively short task. “How’ve you been?” you ask, trying to initiate old conversations.

“Good.”

“Oh, that’s good to hear! How were your finals? Mine was terrible! I had a professor who forgot what time section we were, so not only were we given only thirty minutes to finish the exam, but there was no compensation for his mistake!”

“Wow… that sucks. Mine were fine.”

“Nothing crazy happened?”

“No.”

“Um, okay… well, did you see that the animated Crimson Riot movie is out?!” you ask, pathetically hopeful that the biggest conversation card you held right now would give you something better than these simple, halfhearted responses. The movie had had no promos, just a message from the local theaters that it had been made and to come and watch it.

“Yup.”

…

“Oh, that’s cool! I just found out this morning when my dad called me! I’m not near home, so I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come and watch it with me?”

You froze. Was that a date you had asked him out on? It was, wasn’t it?! Your face exploded with heat, your fingers trembling as you poured the finished hot coffee into the cup. 

“...I’d rather not.”

Oh.

“T-That’s okay! I’m sure I can find a friend or something to go watch it with me… or I’ll just wait until a holiday to see it with my dad… if it’s still out.”

“Hopefully, it’s still out by then,” Kirishima muttered, his face refusing to look at you, his eyes buried into his wallet as he handed you the change for his drink. “Thanks.” he rushed, grabbing his cup and turning on his heel.

“What’s wrong with you?” you manage to ask before you can keep your mouth shut, but you can’t help it. Your chest aches with his dismissal, with every sentence he spoke that horribly and effectively shut you down before you even had a chance. In the end, it seemed that your hurt feelings won out your need to be polite. “Did something happen? A-Are you okay? Did I do something?”

Kirishima freezes in his path.

“No, nothing happened.”

That was not the answer you were hoping to get.

“Then why are you acting like this?” you ask, your voice bordering a desperate plea for an answer.

For the past many weeks, you had never once thought that he had been avoiding you, ignoring you. You thought that maybe he had just been busy with his personal life, too busy with school and work to spare his free time entertaining you at work. But even if you were disillusioned with your admiration and feelings for him, you knew the two of you were friends. You had to have been friends!

Silence.

“What’s going on?” you ask again, your voice feeling small and weak.

“Nothing,” Kirishima reiterates, his head turning so you both looked at each other through the corner of his eyes. “Nothing happened, I just… couldn’t show up.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like being around you, not anymore.”

Those words wash over you like freezing water; they’re harsh, cruel, and mean. His face twisting up as if he was some snarling, upset animal. He didn’t want to be here, his face screamed, he felt like some cornered, caged animal.

Muted anger and heartache wash over you, your head nodding numbly as you laugh humorlessly. You had been the problem.

“Sorry for… for making you feel obligated in showing up,” you whisper, your soul feeling as though it was leaving your body, your face twisted in the horribleness in his words.

I don’t like being around you, not anymore.

He wasn’t even apologizing… he’d meant it… didn’t he?

Kirishima moves to walk away, his eyes glazed over similarly to your own, but you’re not done. Not quite yet.

“You know,” you manage to speak out, your voice starting off paltrily, an almost chuckle tickling the back of your throat, humming deeply in your chest. He stops. “This entire time, you always boasted about being ‘manly’… about being chivalrous and a decent human being. For the most part, I’ve always agreed and thought that you were manly, chivalrous, and a more than decent human being but now… I can’t believe you. You really came all this way after two months of avoiding me to tell me that you would never be showing up again? That the reason for you not returning was because you’re sick of me?”

He’s silent for a bit, and it's then you notice the tears falling down your face, “Thought it was manlier to tell you I wasn’t coming back then to stop showing up without a reason.”

“You already did that!” you snapped, suddenly piercing, thundering anger running through every cell of your body, raising the hair on your body. “You’re being a complete fucking dick now, Kirishima! For what? At least before I thought it was because you’re busy, but no, you just had to tell me it was because of me! Oh my god?! To think I have a crush on you?! That I was ready to confess to you the next fucking time we had a moment together?!”

You felt hysterical, his reasoning jumbling and twisting in your mind, not at all feeling coherent, and your blazing feelings that were now biting you in the ass… you wanted to make him feel guilt most of all. With tears falling bitterly, angrily down your face, you stared at Kirishima. He was finally facing you, looking you dead on with emotion-filled eyes and a gaping fish mouth ― opening and closing pathetically.

“Get out,” you spoke with a serenity you were not quite feeling, your finger thrust toward the front door.

“Y-Y/l/n―”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you laugh bitterly, no longer wanting to have whatever it is that he wanted to say.

He was just a customer, not a friend, only a customer.

You didn’t need to be his friend anymore.

“Get. Out. Now.”

You didn’t wait for him to leave, turning on your heel, you walked to the backroom, not daring to return to the front until he left.

You’d forgotten how much rejection hurt.

O N E 

Whoever said heartbreak was healed with a wild night out, a pint of ice cream and crying had clearly been built differently from you.

One wild night out with your friends, two pints of ice cream, and thirty crying sessions later, you were still sulking as you simply existed. You weren’t even sure why you were overreacting either?! He had been a crush, not a boyfriend!

Lord save you for whenever an actual reciprocated lover dumped you, you were probably never going to recover. Still, you couldn’t let it affect you all that much; you were still going about your day as you usually would, just… sulking.

“You’re a blessing in my life,” your coworker sighed as she came out from the back, her hands moving to release her hair from her bun, her purse slung against her chest as she continued to thank you. “I promise you the next time we work together, I’ll clean up on my own!”

You shake your head, waving her off as you dried some of the dishes lying about. 

“We aren’t busy, and there’s no one here, I’ll clean up just fine!” you laugh, glancing over your shoulder to look at her. “Just buy me a pastry tomorrow or something. I’ve closed on my own many times, I’ll be fine! There's no coffee demand this late at night anyway!”

“Fine! I won’t forget! But don’t complain if there’s more than one pastry!”

“Oh my god, LEAVE!” you yell, blindly pointing at the door for her to leave, and you hear her resounding laughter as she finally does go.

“Oops, sorry, welcome and excuse me!” you hear her exclaim as she steps out, and you turn around, already knowing that it’s a customer.

Taking your coworkers' welcome as the company greeting, you merely shouted out that you’d be right with them as you finished washing ― you were almost done with them anyways. Finally done, you turned around, eyes on your thighs as you dried your hands on your apron.

“Alright, how can I help…” you froze when you caught sight of familiar, warm red eyes. “...you.”

Kirishima.

He looked at you with blushing, puffed cheeks, his eyes full of mixing, swirling emotions that you probably couldn’t handle to hear (especially if he had come to yell at you). You don’t know what to do, merely looking at him before sighing.

“The usual?” you ask, moving to get things as smoothly and effortlessly as you could (you had been yelled at for your emotional outburst by your boss).

“Uh, actually, no. I’m okay,” Kirishima spoke up as soon as you pulled out a paper cup, and you stopped, looking at him with your best attempt at dull, emotionless eyes.

“What can I get for you then?” you try again, hating the way that you want to smile at him, to pretend that nothing happened two weeks ago; that this was his first time back.

“I have to confess something,” Kirishima states, his fingers fisting into his ridiculous mismatched athleisure clothing. “I actually really, really, really hate coffee…”

You blinked.

You hadn’t expected that confession.

“Um, okay? Well, then can I make you some―”

“I’m not quite done, sorry,” Kirishima apologized, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in his embarrassment. “I hate coffee, and I don’t like being dishonest, but really, I feel like I’ve been lying to you this entire time.”

“...what?”

“I told you at some point that I had come into this shop by coincidence, but that’s not true! I’ve been passing by for months before stepping foot into here! I had always seen you working through the front window, and you just… you captivated me from that very moment, but I’ve been too weak, nervous, and totally unmanly and could never build up the courage to come in! It took me a year to build up the courage to come in ― which is why I nearly broke the front door that first day! I was so nervous about messing up; I just overexerted my strength!”

Kirishima laughed, his hands raking through his spiked hair, and you could only stare at him as the gelled hair began to fall under his ministrations.

“See, the truth is, I’ve liked you for a long time. Like a long time. And then, when I came in, and we became friends, I only fell for you even more, and I’ve been trying to work up the courage to confess to you! But every time I tried, something bad happened! Like the grouchy old man in the line, how you got sick and couldn’t work! But a true man doesn’t give up until it’s over… and I thought that girl who was hugging you and kissing your cheek that one day was your girlfriend, so I gave up! But the thing is, I was a coward, so fucking unmanly that I couldn’t be around you without you being mine! And so I left because it hurt… but it hurt not being around you, so Mina brought me here! But then you said… you said you liked me back, and unless you’re in a polyamorous relationship, there’s no way for you to have said feelings and confess them to me like that!”

He stopped, his breath frantic, panting, and you could only look up with him with a mirrored breathing pattern despite your quietness.

“I’m here because I’m tired of being weak and unmanly. I’m here because I have deep feelings for you, and I want to ask you out!”

You’re silent for a bit, the temerity of his words loud and clear in your ears, ringing with the need to be addressed. For the first time since he had walked out of your life for the first time, a warmth bubbled in your chest.

“You know,” you whisper, your eyes locked with his, the tears in your eyes freely showing. “This coffee shop does, in fact, have tea?”

“Wha―?”

He doesn’t have the chance to finish the curious ask, your hands grabbing his shirt and bringing him close, his nose brushing against yours but your lips hovering below his own.

“Can I kiss you?” you whisper, your eyes falling to his lips for a second before coming back to his eyes that shone brightly, vividly, excitedly.

“Please?”

Your lips found themselves pressed against his, and the two of you stood there, leaning against the counter by the cash register. Lips passionately, smoothly, deeply pressing against one another as electricity traveled slowly down your spine as his hands pressed against your ribcage. When you pulled away, his eyes fluttered open after yours, and he had the brightest, dumbest smile on his face.

“Would you like to go see the Crimson Riot movie with me?”

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha

[hootcifer]

talking about toh | season two, episode four: keeping up a-fear-ances

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previous | first | next spoilers under the cut, as always

the beginning

my goodness that owl thing is terrifying! i think we saw it briefly in that one promo but still!

young eda is back!

honestly, i thought eda ran away from home after she was cursed. i guess i was wrong.

when the healing coven dude gives eda the gem and says it's in style for young witches, i'm reasonably sure that's a reference to the fact that her gem wasn't originally meant to be an indicator of her curse. if i'm correct, that idea didn't even come about until "the intruder".

i love how eda has a poster in her room for rats, clearly a paridy of the musical cats. musical theatre nerd eda? anyone?

i'll talk more about this later, but we finally get to meet eda's mom! i like how she isn't painted as good or evil, just in between. she also seems to share eda's distaste for the coven system (though not as severe).

so even eda doesn't know where the door to the human realm came from, huh? interesting.

it doesn't look like eda's nickname came from her mom, or from lilith, since they both call her "edalyn" a majority of the time. did she start going by eda in school? did it come from her dad? did it come from somewhere else? huh?

the plot

i think it's kinda neat how eda's gold fang isn't actually meant to be a tooth replacement. it just makes her look cool. very on-brand for eda.

we now have confirmation-- more or less-- as to how the elixir tastes. apparently it's gross.

big fan of eda's new outfit. very much her style.

when eda said "beans" i thought she said "memes".

i love some of the visual humor in this show. the tea leaves "shrugging" made me giggle.

poor luz, she really wants to see her mom again. i can't imagine what that's like given that my mom is mediocre at best and makes me feel like shit a lot of the time but that must really suck. oops, sorry, too personal? let's move on.

i am a huge fan of how much closer eda and lilith seem to be now. they aren't enemies anymore, and that's great.

so witches can't detatch their limbs unless they're cursed? for some reason i thought that was universal.

okay, now we can talk about mrs. clawthorne. i saw her in the trailer, and i knew she wasn't eda because of her palisman. as a matter of fact, it's interesting that all three known clawthornes have bird palismans (palismen?). "escape of the palisman" reveals that not every palisman is a bird. is it a coincidence? is it a family tradition? i'm leaning more toward the latter.

but wow, gwen clawthorne. right off the bat i knew there would be people simping for her. i mean, people simp for both of her daughters, so it only makes sense. now, i'm ace, so i don't know much about milf, but does this make her a gilf? since she'd the mother of two milfs? (or are they still milfs if i don't want to--? never mind.)

i was expecting to dislike gwen, but i honestly ended up enjoying her character. sure, she can be a bit... much... but she loves her daughters.

oh, here's an odd detail. both gwen and eda's names end with "lyn", but lilith's doesn't. coincidence? no?

i would love to hear gwen's "strong words" for belos. let him get told off by an old lady!

aww, poor lilith just wants her mom to acknowledge her. it's not fun being the least favorite. i feel you on that one, lily. the older child is always less favored.

canon confirmation that lilith dyes her hair! i think dana said she did in an ama but now it's truly canon.

i knew something was fishy with wartlock from the beginning. there is no way he could have been legit.

i feel so bad for king. now that he knows he has a dad out there, all he wants in the world is to find him. poor thing.

what the hell is "knife season"?! is that a thing?

not gonna lie, i thought king and lilith got drunk off that ice cream. or maybe they did, and i'm just that bad at recognizing that stuff.

also, loving the lilith-king development. always great when two characters bond over angst.

"you know things are bad when hooty is the voice of reason." ~me, to my friend

honestly, a jar of bees would certainly help me with existential dread. i love bees.

i can't say i'm surprised that gwen's "cure" was just a bunch of made up bs. there's no way they could heal eda so early in the season.

gotta say, owl beast lilith looks dope.

i'm really happy that gwen learned to listen to eda. that's not something every mother learns.

i noticed that gwen was from the beastkeeper coven since we saw her in the promo, because i'd recognized the logo on her arm, but i think her controlling the bees was really cool. maybe i know what coven i would join. then again, i'm pretty much with eda on the "covens bad individualism good" front.

also, it looks like badassery runs in the family just as much as bird palismen do.

can we start a petition to help morton stay in business? he deserves it.

it was really interesting to see eda's point of view when she's the owl beast. it looks like she has to fight with the creature from the beginning for dominance over her own body.

the end

hoo boy. h o o b o y .

okay, let's start at the beginning. of the end. okay.

first of all, it shatters my heart into pieces that lilith is going to live with her mom now. i was just growing to like her, too.

and poor hooty! he found someone who considered him a real friend, only to have her ripped away just three episodes later. i hope she comes back soon.

is episode five going to be the episode where we find out that amity works at the library? (don't answer that, it's a rhetorical question.)

okay, now let's get to the real mind-boggling part: false luz. what--or who--the heck is she?! i've seen a lot of theories about that, ever since we saw the letters at the end of "enchanting grom fright", and we have options. i'll go more into those in the next section.

predictions

belos being behind this new false luz makes a lot of sense, since he's the main bad guy as of now. it's the most likely theory for now, but i feel like it's a bit too predictable.

eda was an option before, but now that she has no powers or access to the human realm, that's off the table.

i've seen theories about amity being behind it, but i suggest a new (and probably false) one.

what about the twins? it could be a situation similar to gwen's determination to heal eda's curse. ed and em seem to care about their sister (more or less), so it makes sense that they would do anything for her to be happy, and for her to be with the person that makes her happy-- even if it means trapping said person in a realm that isn't her own. besides, they're both in the illusions track, and from what we've seen they're very good at it. what if they're the ones who made false luz? i don't know if illusions can interact with things around them, like false luz does with the tissue box, but maybe advanced ones can? also, can you cast illusions in the human realm without a portal? out of all of guesses so far it's probably the least likely, but it's still an interesting concept.

on the topic of illusionists, we also have gus as a suspect. however, we can tell when he's controlling illusions, so surely we would have seen it by now. that does provide an argument against the blight twins being the culprits, but they are both older and more experienced. i'm sure their expertise in their track is similar to amity's in the abominations track, if their parents' expectations of them are anything like their expectations of amity. maybe skilled illusionists can control their illusions with their minds alone? or they can create semi-sentient illusions?

okay, that's enough crazed conspiracy-theorist rambling for today. see y'all next week for episode five!

#the owl house #toh #eda clawthorne #edalyn clawthorne #gwendolyn clawthorne #gwen clawthorne #luz noceda #lilith clawthorne #hooty #amity blight #emira blight #edric blight #toh eda #toh edalyn #toh gwendolyn #toh gwen #toh luz #toh lilith #toh king #toh hooty #toh amity #toh emira #toh edric #lumity #<- yes believe it or not this post has lumity in it #the owl house spoilers #toh spoilers

[popatochisssp]

I need memes for the new boys. Meme me, Poppy. Meme me.

As always, I am ashamed at how well-equipped I am to answer this question...

Meme Fluent: Ash (Undergloom Sans), Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus), Sunny (Gastertale Sans)

Can At Least Ask Where The Bathroom Is In Meme: Brick (Horrorfell Sans), Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus), Aster (Gastertale Papyrus)

Meme-blivious: Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus), King (Horrorfell Papyrus), Merc (Horrorswap Sans), Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans)

Ash (Undergloom Sans): Very savvy and up on all the most popular memes, scrolling through memes is an activity very low on the ‘activity’ part and great for when he’s feeling a little too tired to do anything else. He’s very into tiktoks, which help him keep up to date on the latest meme songs-- some of which he might try to learn to play on his own. In general, he’s also into memes with funny or weird-looking animals (frogs, possums, axolotls, etc), no specific kind of meme, the presence of a goofy-looking creature in it is usually good enough to get a smile or a chuckle out of him.

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus): Not all that up to date on the meme scene, he’s usually busy with other things... but! He really loves relatable memes, especially ones about procrastination or not being able to focus on work or having to do chores, everyday mundane irritations that everybody can relate to! He also thinks reading comprehension errors are great harmless fun (i.e., “my bad i thought u said moths”), just silly misunderstandings that make for confusing interactions until someone realizes.

Brick (Horrorfell Sans): Doesn’t always remember every meme, but he gets the gist of most of them. His favorites are the MS Paint memes, usually the more poorly drawn, the better (but a fan of pretty much every catcrumb image he sees, those chaotic little cats are great). He can also be caught laughing himself to wheezing and banging on the table over completely bizarre and out of context interactions--for some reason, they just hit right on the funny bone and he has no defense against them. (The ‘Nyquil Detroit Become Liquid’ post nearly killed him, but he would’ve thanked it.)

King (Horrorfell Papyrus): Not too interested in memes. He’s peripherally aware of them but rarely knows the latest trends or cares to know them. He does have a slight fondness for evil memes--ones about being evil or having an evil lair or just have the word ‘evil’ as an adjective in front of something else seemingly incongruous--he finds them silly and they can usually win at least a smirk out of him when he happens to come across one. If you want a laugh, though, find him some of those screenshots of old newspapers from the 30s-50s, formally written humor that still holds up even now (like The Windsor Star, Ontario, November 1, 1958, The Cincinnati Enquirer, Ohio, February 21, 1947, or Barnard Bulletin, New York, December 20, 1935). Sensible chuckles abound from those!

Merc (Horrorswap Sans): Not too into memery, he’s definitely got a lot of other things going on and isn’t always online. Still, he is a fan of stuff like one-time-i-dreamt and other accounts of peoples’ dreams or thought processes. He thinks it’s interesting, the little peek into the wandering, strange, and sometimes funny subconscious, or how people think about love and tenderness and nostalgia and remind others to appreciate those things, too. It’s a very niche, wholesome sort of enjoyment for sure... but not to worry! If you’re looking for something more mainstream and ‘haha funny,’ he also got very into the whole ‘Surprise! It’s cake!’ meme trend that was going on for awhile and is still delighted to find a video where a realistic object is cut into and turns out to be cake. He’s definitely going to make one himself, maybe as a social media marketing thing for his home business...

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus): Very meme savvy and tends toward some of the maybe darker types of humor--stress and anxiety memes, introvert memes, et cetera. Animated text is a big one he likes, with enough of a mix of pessimist and optimist memes that he doesn’t come away from checking it actually bummed out or feeling bad, a fine line to walk to be sure. He also likes coding and programming humor! He’s still kinda teaching himself, so he definitely doesn’t get them all, but it gives him a little sense of accomplishment and community when he does, which he really likes.

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans): Not interested in memes, and a lot of them are heavily based on visuals which, unfortunately, he’s going to miss the context. Still, he does get a hell of a kick out of brazen and blatant misinformation--the smooth sharks post, facts-i-just-made-up, and the like--and finds it hilarious when someone insists something that is obviously untrue, especially if a lot of people aren’t getting the joke and are trying fervently to convince them of their wrongness. He’s also a little bit evil, so whenever he learns a new piece of whatever slang is popular and in at the moment, he’s going to use it incorrectly, or use outdated slang to induce cringe in those around him. ‘Totes yeet yo’? Yes. ‘That is so pog, as the kids say’? Of course. ‘It’s lit, fam’? Definitely, who do you take him for? The cringier, the better, he revels in the discomfort of others when he throws one of those babies out.

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus): Definitely knows a little bit about memes, not always the latest trends but his base knowledge is pretty good, and of course has his favorites. He loves John Mulaney references and reaction images, they just Speak to him, y’know? Outside of that, he’s very fond of day-of-the-week memes, Tuesday Again?, Out of Touch Thursday, Fat Fuck Friday and so on. Aside from being a useful reminder of what the hell day of the week it is, he likes the consistency and recurrence of it, just a silly little moment to look forward to at some point like, “oh yeah, it’s el muchacho monday, nice!”

Sunny (Gastertale Sans): Pretty wise to the meme scene overall, loves the fun and creativity of it all. If you want him to absolutely lose his shit, though, show him a terrible picture of an animal--by which I mean, poorly photoshopped, blurred, in mid-panoramic, as long as the end result is an absurd or very screwed up image. Why are things like ‘buff half cat’ and ‘dog but very, very long’ his sense of humor? He has no idea, but the worse it looks, the harder he laughs. He has a bit of a fondness for ‘gotcha’s too, like a Rickroll but really anything where you go into it expecting one thing, and get trolled by receiving something else. (If Megalovania memes were a thing in his universe, he would be all over them, if that gives you an idea of the kind of gag he thinks is funny!)

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus): Aware of memes, but not all that invested in them. He likes corporate and office/business memes a lot-- the kind that roast bosses and unnecessary meetings, translate ‘polite’ corporate phrases, anything to do with emails--because they can be very relatable. He also likes seeing screencaps of people on Facebook or Twitter getting dragged for misinformation, or trying to act like a pompous jerk and getting shredded (for legitimate reasons of course, not just random unprovoked cyberbullying). He...may be involved in a bit of that sometimes himself: he may not be working in a scientific field, but he is half of a scientist, and just petty enough to spend a few hours of his free time looking up and reading through a few credible sources to cite in a strong and well-crafted rebuttal argument if someone is being especially, dangerously wrong about something. Not everyone has the time and resources to do it, so why shouldn’t he? 😇

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