#his eyebrows were like ^__^ this entire vid

[slowestlap]

Grill The Grid 2022 | Episode 4 - Finale | A-Z Tracks [x]

#max verstappen #red bull racing #grill the grid #myf1gifs #his eyebrows were like ^__^ this entire vid

[xcalkenf]

౨ৎ — PRETTY BOY ! [ switch!choso x reader]

౨ৎ — warnings . 18+ / smut (obviously) / soft-dom ish f reader / switch choso! / bondage (shibari) / choso with pink ribbons around his biceps <3 / overstimulation / choso crying / anal plug / cock rubbing & edging / cum eating / p in v / riding / cockwarming / aftercare / reassurance / praises / safeword was made between two !

౨ৎ — note . okay, this was written in my notes from 2 until 3 am (actually being serious) inspired by a Twitter vid I watched >< it was sooo good !! also, y’all can’t change my mind on switch!choso. He’s both, the thought of him being only a sub/top is just not.. satisfying enough 😓🤭

౨ৎ — wc . 1.3k

౨ৎ

“D-do I really have to be like this..?” Choso mumbled, face flushed -feeling embarrassed to see his nude body resting on top of the bed with pillows supporting his back. His hands were bound on his back, thighs spread, chest wrapped by ropes, and his biceps wrapped by adorable pink ribbons.

“Mhm.. you want to be a good boy, right, Choso?” You kissed your boyfriend’s mark on his nose, when you mentioned his name, his entire body shivered, well jus’ a little, and he nodded, "Yes, mommy."

As you were ready to insert a plug into him, he stopped you, “Wait! w-will that h-hurt?..” he asked.

“It's hard to say for sure, but moving around might hurt a little, but you'll get used to it, I promise.” You say, and Choso swallowed hard as he pictured what pain he was going to experience in his hole. As he felt the glass heart-shaped plug go into his hole, his sculpted thighs began to expand.

"Wait, that hurts.. Go gently", He became anxious, but when you insert it more slowly, allowing him to adjust, he soon calms down.

When you glance at his lower abdomen, you can see that he's panting heavily and that he's breathing and sighing heavily.

“Don’t worry, I won’t go hard on you, pretty boy”

"You're doing so good for me, cho~" As you slowly turned the plug around, without moving too quickly or roughly, you purred.

Choso blushed heavily, feeling the strange object inside him as well as embarrassment. With a nervous look away, he muttered, "It feels weird, baby.." He could feel the burning sensation building up in his cheeks. "Do you want me to stop? Remember the safeword, Cho?" You asked, and he shook his head, "N-no, don't stop.. Yes, I-I do remember", You nodded.

You continued to playfully tease Choso, occasionally grazing his sensitive skin or tugging gently on the ribbon tied around his bicep.

Each touch sent adrenaline down his spine, causing him to squirm even more. "Please, stop teasing me," he begged, reaching for your face to kiss you, only to have you pull away and press your pointer finger against his lips.

"No, I'll kiss you when I want to, cho" you say with a giggle while he stared at you with furrowed eyebrows.

You enjoy seeing him like this, completely under control and wanting your attention. "Such a needy little thing," you muttered, tracing invisible patterns on his chest while sitting on his lap, completely dressed, not like him, bare.

You sit in front of him, stroking his cock with one hand while fondling his balls with the other, all while maintaining eye contact. Your hand moves from his balls to his thigh, massaging it, the other hand stopping at his tip and then twisting and holding it for a little while. He throws back his head and groans with pleasure. You're aware of his extreme sensitivity in the thigh area, which might lead to his orgasm occurring quickly. His slit is sensitive, so you press down on it with your pointer finger, making him wriggle. You're applying pressure to both of his vulnerable spots. “W-Wait, that's dirty, I'm sensitive too. Slow down. Don't touch both..” Between breaths, he says the words. He makes a high-pitched whine as you continue to rub them.

As you stroked Choso, he groaned many times and uncontrollably bucked his hips. He loved the sensation of your hands on him, especially in combination with your kept gaze. He whispered, "Please," his eyes begging for your attention. You wanted to see how fucked out he was before letting him cum, so you thought about holding off on letting him climax for a few times. Which you did. Three times. -

"I can't take much more, really, babe -ngh" His muscles tensing up as you've repeatedly edged him, strong muscles nearly ripping the ropes off. As he was about to finally rip them off, you said, "No breaking ropes cho, you’re doing really great.”

With an arrogant grin, you continued to edge him for precisely thirty-five minutes, knowing just what would push him over the edge. Choso's muscles tensed as a wave of pleasure passed over him, and his breathing became quicker.

“Oh, oh, oh! I'm cumming, I'm cumming!” You stroke his cock faster just as he began to cum, staring at his release. You watch the thick white and milky strings spurt out of his cock, eyes glowing in admiration. 

“That's it, Choso,” you cooed, loving the sight of him writhing beneath you. “Come for me, my pretty boy.”

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck, fuck, -angh!”Another high pitched moan came out of his dirty, yet lovely mouth.

He kept releasing his seeds over and over again, not stopping after what you felt had been at least a minute and twenty seconds since he finally came after an hour of edging. Choso thought it was over, but he was wrong.

He felt your warm mouth wrap around his length, your hand slowly drawing out the plug and thrusting it back into his hole with force. “Fuck, wait, no, sensitive, no- I'm sensitive fuckkk,” he threw his head back, tears and spit streaming down his face.

You hummed. That vibration sent Choso over the brink again just minutes after he arrived; it was painful yet so good. He's overstimulated, moaning again and again as he feels your tongue everywhere, sucking him off and swallowing his cum preventing it from spilling out. You took off the butt plug out of his hole, and left it on the floor.

When you were swallowing, you kept a bit in your mouth. Standing up and softly kissing him, allowing him to taste himself and his cum. Tongue intertwined, it was a very sloppy kiss. You put your right hand on his chin and grip it. The other strips your underwear and sits on your knees, adjusting his cock to your entrance.

You were adjusting yourself, closing your eyes, focussing on kissing his lips and down below, not noticing Choso had removed the ropes off him. When his hands unexpectedly pushed you down forcibly on his cock, you yelped and made out muffled moans of pleasure as Choso leans back, your hands on his shoulder for support.

“Fuck- feel so good, cho,” you exclaimed, immediately undoing your buttons and stripping to your bra and miniskirt. He stopped the kiss and looked at you with lust and thirst.

“Your insides feel so warm, I'm going to come again...” “So tight,” he whispered before locking his lips on your collarbone and biting everywhere, leaving hickeys that would remain for days.

You bounced on his cock, supported by your partner's thrusts and the hands around your waist. You press your eyes tight and allow your orgasm to build with his.

“Cho ‘m so close…”

“Me too baby, ngh” The two of you moaned together, and you pressed your sweaty foreheads against one other as ecstasy gushed over you; finally, you opened your eyes and kissed each other, still bouncing on his cock, but a little slower than before. You can feel his cock jerking wildly, sending vibrations down into your core/cervix.

You continue till hours have passed. There you were cockwarming him: “Stay like this for a little longer, please.” He begged, and you nodded before wrapping your arms around him. The two of you remained in that position for some time before getting off to clean up.

You prepared a warm bath while Choso laid on his back, staring at the marks left by the ropes that restrained him. He looked up and across his body to discover a pink ribbon still tied around one of his biceps, which he thought was cute.

Maybe he’ll do the same thing to you next time because you pushed him too hard today, it did felt good though.

a/n p.2 | The fact that this only took me an hour to write scares me. Hope you enjoy this one more than my prev work <3

@xstom on tumblr 2024, do not repost/copy/translate this post!

creds to the divider owner!

#choso x reader #choso smut #choso #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk men x reader #choso jjk #choso kamo smut #choso x reader smut #jujutsu smut #jujutsu kaisen smut

[starrylothcat]

2 and 11 from the most recent prompt list?

(Kisses down the neck underneath a high necked shirt (cough blacks cough)) (Kisses all over the face until.) With Crosshair? Man always is so sassy but I want a little sugar with him sometimes too.

Happily Ever After

Pairing: Crosshair x GenReader

Summary: You and Crosshair share a ‘lil cozy romantic moment.

Warnings: None? Cheesy drabble with kissing. Potential implied sexy times at the end but nothing is described or explicit. Can be read either way I think. Reader isn’t described. Established relationship.

WC: 1,000

A/N: I am filled with cheese (and sugar) after writing this. It’s getting colder where I live and I’m feeling cozy. I love writing ‘lil soft moments with this man. Also he’s totally a reader. Thanks so much for the ask! ❤️

You were curled up on the couch next to Crosshair, a small fire crackling in your fireplace.

Though Pabu was mostly tropical, the winter months dropped enough in temperature to warrant a small fire in the evenings.

Your legs were on his lap as you laid on the couch, Crosshair using them as an armrest.

You were absentmindedly watching a silly Holovid while Crosshair read on his datapad. Ever since being rescued from the Empire, Crosshair had taken up a few hobbies to keep him busy on Pabu. One of them was reading. He devoured literature, often finishing a novel in a day or two.

You were used to this routine, quiet evenings with just the two of you. You loved hearing him speak of the tales he finished, hearing his thoughts on characters and motivations.

You tried to keep up with him and read the same books, though his keen eyes were able to read and process words much faster than you.

The novels you could finish, you’d sometimes talk for hours about them with him.

You tried to focus on the Holovid, but you were distracted by his profile as he read. His sharp features have softened a bit in the time he’s been on Pabu, the delicate warmth of the fireplace adding a glow to his skin.

He looked peaceful, serene even. You knew the trials and tribulations he went through, the heartbreak and tragedy. You knew he still carried regret like stones in his heart, never quite forgiving himself for what he put his brothers through, though they have forgiven him.

You shifted, slowly sitting up. Crosshair didn’t budge, engrossed in the story. It wasn’t until you moved your legs off his lap and turned off the vid that he gave you a questioning look.

You stretched your arms above your head, readjusting yourself next to him.

You peeked at the words on his datapad, this story about a pirate who kidnaps a hot-headed princess for ransom, but ends up falling for her instead.

“Enjoying this one?” You asked, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Crosshair shrugged.

“It’s fine. Could use some more action and less romance, though.”

You snorted, flicking your eyes up to him.

“Too lovey dovey for you?”

A ghost of a smirk played at the corners of his mouth.

“The princess should kick the pirate’s ass instead of kissing them, is all I’m saying.”

You turned toward him more fully.

“But the pirate has a heart of gold and she sees straight through him! Tale old as time.”

“How do you know?” Crosshair asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I read the summary.” You replied, laughing.

Crosshair still stared at you.

“Okay, okay. I watched the Holofilm they made for this story!”

Crosshair let out a dry chuckle, setting the datapad down.

“Well, you can save me the time and just tell me the rest of the story. Let me guess, they live happily ever after?”

You snorted. “Is that so bad?”

You traced your hand over his, slowly moving up his arm.

Crosshair grunted as your hand made its way up to his shoulder, and up to his cheek. You cupped his face, gently moving his head to face you entirely.

“Is it so bad for the princess to fall for the handsome, roguish fiend?” You whispered, the fire now reflecting in his eyes as he focused on you.

You kissed his cheek, starting a slow path to his other cheek, over his nose and down to his chin.

Crosshair’s long fingers were now tracing up and down your back as you left featherlight pecks all over his face.

You felt him relax into the couch, his breath hitching slightly as you made your way from his stubbled jawline and under his ear, a highly sensitive spot only you knew about.

“It’s not so bad, I suppose.” Crosshair mumbled, his eyes closing, getting lost in the feeling of your lips on his skin.

You made your way down his neck, mentally making a note of how his breathing changed at certain spots.

You hooked a finger at the collar of his blacks, tugging them down to get more access to his skin. You took in his musky scent, how his hand was subtly pulling you closer to him as you continued your journey, relishing in this reserved moment of him letting you take control.

You left small nibbles, using your tongue to trace small patterns at the skin of his neck, which was now flushed with some color, pulling his blacks down further.

His slight grunts and labored breathing was music to your ears that you could listen to forever, his skin becoming hot under your ministrations. You finally lifted your head and topped it all off with a long, deep kiss on his lips.

Crosshair groaned as he lifted you into his lap, fully wrapping his arms around you, taking back some control as his mouth moved with yours.

His tongue danced across your lips, announcing his intention. You invited him in, letting your tongues slowly slide against one another, his hand cradling the back of your head. It was a languid kiss, perfectly matching the tone of the night.

When you finally pulled yourself away from him to catch a much-needed breath, his eyes held a mirthful glint.

“Do you really want me to tell you how the story ends?” You whispered, touching your forehead to his.

“Hmmm…” Crosshair hummed, beginning his own mission of leaving kisses on your cheeks, your forehead, your chin, and down to your neck, your own body heating up at his touch.

“I’ll have to decide that later.” Crosshair’s breath was hot on your skin, his kisses becoming more intense.

You let out a squeal as Crosshair quickly maneuvered you on your back, bouncing slightly on the plush cushions as his lithe body hovered over you.

You smiled as he continued on, leaving no part of your skin untouched by his lips.

By the time you were finished, the fire had burned to embers, and you lay entwined together, drifting off in one another’s arms enjoying the peace of the night.

Though Crosshair would never say it out loud, he did find his happily ever after, and that was in these moments with you.

Taglist: @crosshairlovebot @sev-on-kamino @kimiheartblade @wizardofrozz @clonemedickix @sunshinesdaydream @kashasenpai @freesia-writes @multi-fan-dom-madness @aconstructofamind @dreamie411 @dystopicjumpsuit @wings-and-beskar @starqueensthings @idontgetanysleep @secretthegriffin @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @secondaryrealm @littlemissmanga @maybethatfanfictionwriter @pb-jellybeans @wanderer-six @king-chaos-world @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @523rdrebel @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @sleepingsun501 @coraex @cw80831 @dangraccoon @mythical-illustrator @eternal-transcience @the-cantina @nahoney22 @moonlightwarriorqueen @skellymom

Divider by @dystopicjumpsuit

#crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #crosshair tbb #the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #tbb #tbb crosshair #tbb crosshair x reader #clone x reader #clone trooper crosshair #starrycatwrites #tbb crosshair x you #the bad batch x you #the bad batch fanfiction #Star Wars fanfiction

[leahrintarou]

🎃 Semi Eita - Humiliation

Warnings: sub!semi x dom!reader, humiliation, they're exes, mentions of blackmail with explicit (sexual) vids, degrading, handjobs, reverse pleasure, enemies to..enemies ig, he's a slvt fr. Word Count: 3k

"you're out, y/n." he said sternly. y/n was a bit astonished by semi's newly told information. She'd been a part of his band ever since it was founded. Infact, she was the one who pushed him to start a band since his desire for it was practically unexplainable yet so strong. He didn’t have enough confidence in himself so with that extra push, he finally said 'fuck it'. Later on into this journey of theirs, it became more serious. They even added three other individual members to their group overtime and together their band was finally complete.

Four years into the founding of their band, y/n and semi matured and grew to realize their feelings for each other. While everything went smoothly for the three years of their relationship with the exception of a few bumpy roads here and there. Recently however, those few bumpy roads became plenty and the two reached a breaking point when a rumor spread across social media that y/n had been cheating on semi with another one of their bandmates. This rumor was false of course but semi needed and excuse and right now was the perfect one.

They ended things a month ago and while they ended things on a decent note, the remaining facts of the truth were something that the two never discussed. The tension between then was thick in the air that encased them and that air triggered arguments every other day. Their bandmates were over it since it was getting in the way of their work and even during interviews, meet and greets, or live streams, fans will pick out the tiniest details, clip them, and make up and entire situation pertaining to who, what, where, and why.

Recently, a clipped part of an interview went around where it showed that y/n and semi weren't wearing their matching Jewlery pairs in which included two rings and two necklaces. When this news spread like wildfire within their fanbase and was labeled as "y/n really was a cheater!", semi realized how much of a problem that it was really causing, so when y/n entered the studio as requested, the word's that left his lips caught her completely off guard. "what?" She questioned dryly.

"you're out, y/n."

"oh, so you can find another bassist in time for the tour?" She smiled in amusement when he sighed with an eyeroll. Clearly he was unbothered so y/n figured he had everything under control..except for her. Out of their long years of lasting relationships of the sort, semi could never control y/n and strangely, it's something that bonded them. She always held her ground whether people took her side or not and right now was one of those times. The three other members of the band sat on the couch or on a beanbag in the corner of a room. They didn’t speak and they weren't surprised by semi's words which meant they might've talked this out prior to her arriving and agreed on this choice. Without her.

"you're staying for the tour, but after that, it's over, y/n."

"after that my ass. You think I'm gonna suck up and play on tour knowing damn well it'll be my last because my shitty ex can't handle a little rumor?" She scoffed. Now semi had finally seemed to be reacting to her words. "you'll be paid the same like alwa-" y/n cut off the voice of one of her bandmates with a sharp glare. "it's not about the fucking money".

"then what's it about, y/n?"

Semi stood up, approaching y/n's figure. She reached for his wrist, pulling him out of the room as three pairs of eye's followed them with curiosity. "what's all this about?" Semi raised an eyebrow when y/n pulled out her phone, swiping the screen with a small grin. She clicked up the volume of her phone and although it was faint, semi heard the sound of his own pathetically moaning voice emitting from the speakers. "why do you still have that video, you sicko?" His facial expression was full of anger as he tried to reach for her phone. y/n didn’t defend herself, making him snatch it from her hold with ease. shrugging as he was about to throw the device to the ground, she spoke.

"that video is also on a flash drive and my laptop. Breaking my phone won't do a thing."

His arm lowered and semi stared at y/n in shock. He was so recklessly stupid back then. Allowing y/n to record their moment of intimacy since he claimed that he got a kick out of it (which was true). That moment of intimacy soon faded into a video of semi letting y/n do as she pleased to his body while he laid there and enjoyed every moment. She tied him up, blindfolded him, used various toys on him, edged and even overstimulated him. All of it. And it was all on video footage.

If it weren't for the stupid tattoo that he'd gotten a few years back while drunk on the night of a party, his body wouldn't have been that easily recognizable. However, that wasn’t the case and the large array of stars tattooed along his pelvis and up the sides of his ribcage was basically one of his personal trademarks. In the video, y/n even made it obvious that she never said his name once so it couldn’t possibly be her fault if his identity was unveiled.

All of the blame was on semi at this point and the guilt paired with the regret was practically leeching off of his being. "stop by my place later, semi." And with that, she took her phone from his loosened grip before grinning at his glare and state of being at a loss for words and actions.

The only action that he could do was the one that y/n had just told him.

----------

"why do you want me here?" Semi questioned, patience thinning before he could even take a seat. "you're not kicking me from the group. me leaving it will make people believe the cheating rumors are actually true." she said, letting him enter her home. Semi took a seat on her sofa and y/n sat next to him. "so you plan to blackmail me with that video so you can stay?" he seemed frustrated and was struggling to keep his composure. "yup, basically."

"why do you still have it anyways?"

"cause, you look pathetic in it. it's nice to see that you could be that vulnerable every once in a while." she smiled, feeling amused with semi began to look like a ticking time bomb. It was a matter of seconds til he'd break and y/n was only making it worse. "shut up. you'll never get me to do that shit again." he said, voice coming through his gritted teeth. y/n leaned back into the couch, matching semi's own positioning.

"really? you think so?"

"positive." it was now when semi shifted his hips and tugged on the fabric of his pants when y/n realized that his words were most certainly a bluff. "so, can we make a deal? you don't kick me and ruin my reputation and the world won't see how much of a pathetic person can be." she let out a laugh when he rolled his eyes. "fine..for now at least. If you lose that video of me, then you're fucked." he mumbled, focusing on the screen on the tv that was being displayed in front of them.

"won't happen."

----------

the late night soon began to approach and y/n was slightly dozing off. semi on the other hand was wide awake and the discomfort forming within the area of his lap was getting unbearable. His pride was getting in the way of aiding in his current problem. He shifted a bit away from y/n which awoke her slightly. she examined his figure and semi let out a sigh when she leaned closer to him. "what's wrong?"

"nothing. I'm going home since its getting late.

"you don't think it's a good idea to get rid of that?" when semi stood up, y/n was able to see his current situation and probably the real reason why he needed to leave her home. "if you're trying to get at what i think you are, then give up. I'm going home." y/n smiled since despite his words, he had yet to take any steps to her front door. "why? are you scared?" she knew a simple tease could threaten his ego so when he glared at her, y/n knew that she was getting somewhere.

"scared of what?"

"not being able to handle it. Last time you only lasted three-"

"that was so long ago. you're never gonna let me live that down, are you?" y/n shook her head with a smirk on her lips. "not til you prove otherwise." semi rolled his eyes almost cursing himself when he fell right into her trap. y/n tend to do that to him often and it worked almost every time. He sat down next to y/n, sighing when he realized his own decision. He could've left. y/n didn’t directly tell him to stay. This was all his own will and reactions to her teasing words. He knew this, yet the ache of his member was becoming so unbearable that he didn’t think he could drive home safely in the first place.

'this is the last time with her'

He said to himself. It was probably a lie because he said the same thing last time and here he is now, tensing at y/n's touch against his thigh. He was fully clothed yet, he felt incredibly vulnerable. y/n's palm traveled to his lips as she watched his features contort into one of discomfort. y/n was taking her sweet time while he just wanted to get this over with and leave. If he were to say something, she'd probably take even longer so he kept his mouth shut, biting his bottom lip to restrain any possible sounds. His body language game himself away when he flinched as her fingertips grazed over the head of his member.

"why are you so hard already, semi?"

Her voice had an unreadable tone and semi couldn’t bring himself to look at her, let alone hold eye contact. He knew just how aroused he was, but for y/n to say it aloud made him feel all the more pathetic. Especially since he knew what got him riled up in the first place. He thought he could keep that fact to himself buy y/n's next words along with her touches guided him down a different path. "answer me." she said. y/n used her free head to guide his face in the direction of where she sat. Semi made eye contact with her for a split second and he crumbled.

"I-I don’t know" he stuttered out. Y/n made quick movements, unbuttoning his pants before pulling them down to his thighs along with his briefs. The cooler air made him shiver and just as y/n was about to directly grip his erection, he held her wrist. She looked up at him unamused as he physically deflated but brushed it off. "don’t overdo it."

Before he could get a response from y/n, semi didn’t notice that his grip had weakened, making her slip out of it to finally encase his erected member in a warm fist. He bit back a moan and it came out more like a grunt after he covered his eyes with his inner elbow. He tiled his head onto the back of the sofa when y/n let go and instead caressed the tip of his member with the pads of her digits, spreading his precum around the entirety of his length. She took her time and the slow yet effective pacing was getting to him a bit fast than he'd like and a bit faster than y/n expected.

"did you actually get turned on over the fact that i have that video of you?" She scoffed, smiling when his chest hitched along with his breathing. "or was it the fact that I said I'd leak it if you kicked me from the band?"

"neither," y/n knew his words were a lie and it was easy to tell since after her question, he twitched against her touch, giving her the correct answer along with reassurance. It didn’t take a lot to overwhelm semi and she knew this all too well. He was driven by emotions and whether it'd affect him positively or negatively, he still hated it. How easy it was to get him excited, angry, sad, and at this time; how much easier it was overall it was to get him aroused. "are you gonna cum already, semi?" y/n asked after seeing how he began to tense with her touch.

"I can't help it." His voice came out as a whine since y/n could practically read him like a book. He lost all control over his own boy and at this point, y/n's voice was the only thing keeping him grounded. "take your arm from your face. Can you not bring yourself to watch just how turned on you are?" She reached up, gently gripping his elbow to remove his arm from over his eyes. He was reluctant to open his eyes but once he did, they landed right to his lap and he almost wanted to crawl into a hole when he saw how much precum was leaking from the tip of his member.

He regretted his words from earlier. How he told y/n he could hold out longer, but it was a lie and he didn't want to believe that. When she tightened her fist, he couldn’t bring himself to hold back the moan that fell from his lips, y/n's stroking along the length of him was so secure and so effective by the way his hips jerked and the way his panting pace increased. "I haven't even been touching you that long and you're already about to cum.." She spoke mostly to herself but the words were aloud and she was sure semi heard them since the whine that past his lips felt all the more real.

"and from what exactly? The fact that the video I have could ruin you with the click of a button?"

"y-y/n stop" his words sounded desperate. His once sturdy voice was now small and fragile. Her words where getting to him and he hated how his body was finding it so amusing and pleasureful. Her words were true, but what felt all the more true was the fact that he was about to cum. "you can't handle your truth, semi?" She asked, using her free hand to guide his field of sight to her own face. The expression on features soon turned into a look of pity when she saw how fucked out he was becoming. She couldn't bring herself to feel all that bad though since it was more so his fault for becoming so aroused at a simple touch.

"y/n please let me cum. Don’t stop." he panted. y/n tended to do that almost every time she was in control of semi's body. She'd stop just when he was about to tip over the edge and make him start all the way from square one. If she was feeling particularly mean, she'd do that process more than once. Tonight however, she had other plans in mind. She nodded to his words and his shoulders only relaxed partially since the grin on her lips weren't all that convincing. "I'll let you cum only because you look so pitiful."

He was about to reply with some sort of snarky comment to cover up his embarrassment, but when y/n leaned closer to him to place a kiss to the sensitive area of his collar bone, he could only let out a whimper and the pace of her jerking hand sped up so suddenly that semi couldn’t help but meet his high right there and then. y/n made eye contact with him for a small second and with a sinister smirk on her lips, she let go of his member, watching as he came untouched. Semi let out a desperate whine at the lack of contact and even though he did come to his climax, he felt incomplete and unsatisfied from y/n's brutal actions.

His member twitched against his abdomen and he was about the reach for himself to ride out his own high, but y/n gripped both of his wrists, forbidding him to do so. A whine fell from his lips and he looked at to y/n, chest heavying as he mumbled his next words. "why did you do that?"

"so I could do this-"

y/n let go of his wrist as he slowly settled down and once again; gripped his member in a fist. It seemed as if all air left his lungs when his body jerked forwards. Y/n shifted her body to straddle his thighs and keep him a bit more still. She jerked his overly sensitive member as he let out uncontrolled and whiney moans. "f-fuck, y/nnnn" he desperately gripped a nearby throw pillow as y/n watched in amusement. She used her free hand to push down on his chest, keep his body sturdy. "you wanted me to touch you, right?"

Semi tried to bare through the oversensitivity but it was too much and he couldn’t handle another second of it. He let out a choked moan, eyebrows contorting while his abdomen tensed and his hips jerked up against y/n's figure. "o-okay, okay. Enough." He finally managed to say, making her slowly let go. She smiled as he visibly relaxed, panting as he threw his head back onto the back of the couch, trying to pull himself together.

"you're fucking brutal, y/n."

ngl, this is so mid AND it was a requested scenario so i feel so bad 😭 either way though, i hopeee some you enjoyed this a little bit. tysm for the support! reblogs and notes are appreciated!

Taglist: @meowmeowmau @jiwooahae @sunaemoby @diana7was7here @msbyomimi @chocoweird0 @riiceandsoup @issllaaa

#anime smut #haikyu smut #kinktober #haikyū!! #haikyuu #hq smut #anime #anime and manga #hq anime #hq fanfic #semi eita #semi smut #hq semi #eita semi #eita x reader #semi x reader #haikyuu manga #haikyuu semi #haikyuu season 4 #2023 kinktober #kinktober 2023 #smut fic #hq scenarios #shiratorizawa smut #shiratorizawa #shiratorizawa x reader #haikyu

[voidsumbrella]

imo hbomberguy's original video was an excellent rundown of the broader plagiarism issue, but todd in the shadows' fact check vid is really the reason im pissed at this specific guy, and gives me a bit less sympathy for people who fell for his shit tbh.

like missing the plagiarism and less like... relevant misinformation is one thing- im actually pretty sure i saw a post about the disney gay day thing go around a while back and went "huh neat" and moved on without checking, because why would i check that sort of thing, i don't care about the history of disney. and while we can collectively raise our eyebrows at people not picking up on the celluloid closet-tier theft, if you don't have any interest in more in-depth queer theory or history i does kinda track that you wouldn't know these books exist. i watch random essays as mildly informative background noise all the time; i'm not going to be able to cite any of the organic chemistry sources referenced, no matter how common knowledge it is in-field.

but holy SHIT so much of the facts he very confidently stated were such blatantly biased horseshit that they really should have pinged more radars than they did. i cannot fucking imagine listening to someone tell me that american soldiers primarily enlisted in wwii because the nazis were just so sexy and not thinking something was up there. claiming that subtlety in western movies wasn't invented until the 1960s while gushing over the homosexual subtext in disney cartoons is insulting to your audience's knowledge of their own pop culture, and also their grasp on linear time. if you thought his dig at western theater being entirely tell-don't-show held any water i have to assume you flunked english from 8th grade on, and have never seen a production in your life.

i have not watched his videos, and im not planning to, but frankly there is no amount of contextual padding that will make his commentary on asian media and culture in general less xenophobic and/or infantilizing. the kabuki/noh mixup and disregard for even reading the wikipedia article before discussing how their narratives work aside, the whole thing about the big scary chinese government padding their action movie box office numbers as propaganda exclusively designed to intimidate western audiences is 1) stupid as hell, and 2) yet another offshoot of the right-of-center sinophobia that's been circulating for the last couple five years and i really don't know why people are so willing to defend themselves by saying it isn't their fault that they uncritically swallowed his racist bullshit or accepted it as confirmation of their own biases.

i think that's actually what bothers me the most here. his entire platform was built on stealing other people's ideas and reframing them to tell his audience what they wanted to hear. and i get it! everyone wants to think they're smart and cool and know the real history behind everything, everyone wants to hear that they can continue to like the stuff they like that other people are pushing back against- attack on titan isn't really facist, disney has always been progressive, china's just as awful as you think it is- it's really easy to get suckered into that!! it sucks to hear someone you trusted is a liar, and it's embarrassing to get called out for believing something false, but some of this stuff crumbles so quickly under any measure of critical thinking that defending taking it as gospel is more of a self-own than anything else.

hopefully the current teardown has reminded everyone that people on the internet are frequently full of shit and passed out a few more tips on how to be smarter going forwards.

#real life mango #this uh. got away from me a bit. #but ive been stewing on this since the video dropped #hopefully it's coherent #minor disclaimer that im mostly vagueing shit ive seen on twitter and not as much here #(not that it doesn't exist here) #(just that im not responding to any one tumblr post specifically)

[commander-krios]

"dragging their lover onto the dancefloor, slow dancing with them before sharing a tender kiss" for Aurora and Joker?

Thank you so much for the prompt! I enjoy writing for these two and they are super cute dorks. The fic is on the shorter side, but I like how it came out. Enjoy!

“I hate this.”

Aurora Shepard bit her lip to keep in the laugh that threatened to slip out. For all the complaining Joker liked to do, she had to admit that the suit they’d bought looked fantastic on him. It was one of those old fashioned ones, with a bow tie and everything. A lot of men wore them in those old Earth black and white vids that she watched on and off, but she had to admit that Jeff really did look better in it than them. 

“You promised.” She reminded him, meeting his defiant gaze. 

“You owe me, remember?” He muttered, glancing away as blush crept up his neck. “The mercs who crashed our last date wanted to kill you and you used me as bait.”

Aurora leaned closer, her lips nearly touching his cheek as she whispered so none of their friends could hear her next words. Jeff’s posture stiffened at her closeness, almost as if he could sense what she was going to say. “I’ll owe you whatever you want if you help me finish this.”

Despite the blush that now covered his cheeks, Jeff smirked at her. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

Aurora bumped her hip against his gently before linking their arms. Then she dragged his sorry ass out onto the casino’s dance floor before he could go back on his word. She could see the amused flair of Garrus’ mandibles out of the corner of her eye, but she ignored him, focusing on the man beside her. 

“Come on- one dance.”

“Wait- what?” 

Before he could protest further, Aurora twirled towards the casino’s dance floor, holding a hand out towards him in invitation. She raised an eyebrow, almost like a challenge, to see if he would continue to humor her. It only took a moment but he walked slowly towards her, easily slipping his hand into hers, the warmth of his skin comforting.

His free hand gripped her waist hesitantly. “I’ve never done this before so… don’t laugh.”

Aurora moved closer so their bodies were almost touching. “I would never.”

The tiniest of smiles appeared on his lips and he ducked his head slightly. 

“Just follow my lead. I won’t embarrass you too much.” 

That, at least, eased Joker’s nerves enough that he rolled his eyes. “You never fail to embarrass yourself, Shepard. Embarrassing me is just an added perk for you.”

Aurora grinned, leaning close enough that their foreheads touched. “You know that’s not true.”

Joker hummed low in his throat, obviously enjoying the teasing enough that he hadn’t even noticed that Aurora had them moving around the dance floor. With each step she took back, he took one forward, keeping pace with her as if he’d always been a dancer. She really should’ve been watching her surroundings, trying to help Brooks or Liara trip up the security, but all she cared about was the feel of Jeff’s hand on her hip and the smile that reached those green eyes she loved so much.

With a happy sigh, Aurora leaned her head against his shoulder, his closeness bringing her comfort despite the mission they were on. Someone was trying to kill her, to take over her life, but she had her friends by her side. And she had Jeff. 

She had always counted on him, even from the early days of their friendship, but now- now they had something completely different but just as precious.

Perhaps more precious, especially with the state of the galaxy.

Aurora knew their little break from the mission would come to an end entirely too soon so she hung on for as long as she could, their bodies moving to the soft music that played. Another moment passed before she pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze. 

Joker raised an eyebrow at the seriousness on her face. 

“Thank you.”

“For what?” He didn’t bother to hide his confusion.

“For dealing with this insanity.” Aurora pressed a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. “I know you’d rather be back at the apartment… or you know, the Normandy.” 

Joker moved closer, his lips brushing hers once, twice before lingering on the third. The gentleness of the touch left her wanting more. “I would rather be back there with you-”

Brooks’ frantic whispers broke the spell. “Shepard- I need help. There’s a guard beneath me.” 

Joker blinked a few times, almost as if he remembered where they were. And that everyone could hear them on the comms. With a cough to hide his embarrassment, he stepped away slightly, but his hand still curled around hers, something solid that she could count on. “I’ll, uh, stay here where it’s safe.”

Aurora pressed a kiss to his cheek, the stubble that was growing there scratchy against her lips. “I’ll try to be quick.”

“Don’t get shot, ok?” His hold on her hand tightened only slightly, but she could see the worry in his gaze. 

She couldn’t wait for the day that they wouldn’t need to leave each other’s side again. “I won’t. I promise.”

#mass effect #my writing #mass effect fanfiction #mass effect fanfic #aurora shepard #femshep #joker moreau #jeff joker moreau #jeff moreau #femshep x jeff moreau #aurora shepard x jeff joker moreau #otp: i'll follow you into hell #aceghosts #me3 #mass effect 3 #shoker

[fufukunaga]

sakuatsu | photogenic omi

Kiyoomi doesn't take selfies. He doesn't know how to take pictures of himself. And he doesn't like being on camera in general. But he's so fucking photogenic it's unfair.

Atsumu keeps trying (and failing miserably) to get a stolen photo of Kiyoomi mid-sneeze or mid-any activity that would normally make a person look unattractive. He's asked teammates to help spook Kiyoomi into screaming or just make him even the tiniest bit scared or disturbed.

And it works. So to speak. Atsumu captures all of these photos on his phones but in every single one of them Kiyoomi looks so ethereally beautiful it's really really really unfair. The gods must have been playing favorites when Kiyoomi was born.

And so now he has a heaping folder full of Kiyoomi's pictures in his phone to rival Suna's own collection of blackmail materials on the twins.

There's a few videos in there too from the times he tried to dare Kiyoomi to do stupid things like "Hey, Omi. Taste this." But Kiyoomi merely says "No." And that was that.

It was a failed prank and yet why can't he get himself to delete the damn video? Or any of the other videos and pictures he's collected of the curly-haired spiker? It's an absolute waste of storage space. None of them were meme materials anyway.

But still his phone storage remains full of "useless" Kiyoomi pics and vids.

It's during a team bonding dinner when Atsumu is exposed for the hoarder (?) stalker (?) that he truly is.

He's saying something about this video he found on the internet of a foreign league team's attack formation they should definitely try out. "Wait lemme show ya guys."

He pulls out his phone from his pocket and opens his gallery. Scrolling through hundreds and hundreds of photos of Kiyoomi.

Maybe he's a little bit tipsy from the wine they've been drinking because he doesn't think to hide his screen until Hinata says, "Why do you have a lot of photos of Omi-san?"

Atsumu goes completely still. Their entire table turns to look at Atsumu.

"What the fuck, Miya?"

It's only then he remembers that Kiyoomi is literally sitting on his other side.

Atsumu closes his phone immediately and puts it back in his pocket. He turns to face Kiyoomi with both hands raised. "I swear it's not ya think, Omi-kun! I'm not a stalker. I was going to delete them I swear!"

"Then why didn't you?" Kiyoomi asks.

"Yeah, Atsumu-kun," Inunaki pipes in from the far end of the table with a mischievous grin.

"Why didn't you?"

Atsumu glares over at Inunaki but only gets a wink return.

"Miya," Kiyoomi calls, turning Atsumu's attention back to him.

Atsumu swallows as he begins to nervously fiddle with his fingers. "It's just— I was—"

Kiyoomi looks at him expectantly as he waits for him to continue.

Those endless pits of dark eyes staring at him. Eyes he has occasionally stared at in the middle of the night from his captured photos every time he goes through them with the intention of finally deleting each and every piece but never did.

"I just think yer really pretty, okay?!" Atsumu huffs, crossing his arms across his chest. "There I said it. I think it's really unfair that I can't get a single bad photo of ya."

A beat. And then Kiyoomi furrows his eyebrows in confusion or in anger, Atsumu can't tell.

"That can't be true," Kiyoomi says.

"Oh, don't try to be modest with me, Omi-kun."

"I'm not," Kiyoomi insists. "Motoya has loads of embarassing pictures of me in his phones."

"Yer lying. That's impossible. I don't believe ya. I've literally been trying for MONTHS. None of them were bad."

Kiyoomi looks like he wants to argue further but before he can Inunaki says,  "And you still have every single one of these so-called 'failed attempts' at stolen photos of Sakusa?"

Atsumu nods. "Yeah, but—"

"Then let's see them!" Inunaki suggests.

"What?" Atsumu exclaims.

"We'll be the judge. If Sakusa really is photogenic or—"

"Or what?" Kiyoomi asks.

Inunaki smirks as if he's fallen into his trap. "Or if Atsumu's eyes are a little biased."

After much cajoling from the rest of the team, Atsumu surrenders his phone for review of his Omi collection.

And he's surprised to find their teammates laughing at a lot of them. "Oh my god, Sakusa. Your face!"

They scroll through the endless gallery, pointing and laughing as Kiyoomi gets progressively redder. "Alright, that's enough," Kiyoomi says, voice clipped from a mix of annoyance and embarrassment. He gets up from his seat and leaves.

"Omi-kun, wait!" Whether he had heard him or is deliberately ignoring him, Kiyoomi continues to make his way towards the exit.

Atsumu curses to himself as he stands up and collects his phone from his still ogling teammates. "Gimme my phone. I gotta go!"

They reluctantly return his phone and he books it to the direction Kiyoomi went. He sees Kiyoomi standing outside of the restaurant, looking at something on his phone.

"Omi-kun."

Kiyoomi looks up at him as if he's been expecting him.

"I'm so sorry about the team. And the photos. I swear. Ya can watch me do it right now—" He goes to fish out his phone from his pocket.

But then Kiyoomi says, "Miya, there's no need."

Atsumu looks up at Kiyoomi in confusion. "Huh? Whaddya mean there's no need?"

Kiyoomi smiles then he lifts up his own phone to show his screen. "Because I think you're really pretty too."

It takes a moment for the words to register into Atsumu's brain because he's too busy gawking at the picture he's seeing on Kiyoomi's phone screen.

Set as his wallpaper is a picture of Atsumu sleeping, most likely on the bus after an away game. His head is leaning on Kiyoomi's shoulder. There's slight drool coming out of his mouth.

"Omi-kun, when did ya take this?" He asks.

Kiyoomi shrugs nonchalantly but the slight flush in his ears easily gives him away. "Some time ago," he says vaguely.

"And how long have ya had this as yer wallpaper?"

Kiyoomi pockets his phone. "Does it matter?"

"I guess not."

They stare at each other for what seems like forever before Kiyoomi tilts his head to the side with a raised eyebrow. "So?"

"Huh? Whaddya mean?"

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. "Really, Miya?"

Now Atsumu is really confused. "What?!"

Kiyoomi groans. "You really are stupid."

"Hey!"

Kiyoomi turns to look at him, expression serious and black obsidian eyes boring into his very soul. "I like you, Miya. Hence, the wallpaper."

Atsumu's eyes widen at the confession. Kiyoomi continues, "Unless you really are a stalker, I'm assuming you feel the same with the hundreds of photos you're keeping of me in your phone."

Atsumu doesn't say anything. He doesn't know what to say. Kiyoomi likes him.

And Kiyoomi is telling him that Atsumu likes him back? Is that why he can't delete the damn photos?

His silence must've gotten to Kiyoomi because he takes a step back. "If I assumed wrong, then I apologize. You don't have to feel obligated to—"

"No!" Atsumu blurts. "I mean, yeah. I like ya too, Omi-kun. I just... I didn't realize it until now."

"Seriously?" Kiyoomi asks.

"Shut up!"

Kiyoomi laughs at that as he slowly closes the distance between them. "You really are an idiot, you know that?"

"Well, ya like me anyway so that makes ya dumber than me!"

Kiyoomi shakes his head but he's smiling and he's leaning towards Atsumu. Atsumu reaches forward and their lips collide in a searing kiss.

When they pull back, Atsumu says with a smirk, "I can't believe ya find me cute while I'm drooling on ya."

Kiyoomi grumbles. "I don't know what you're talking about."

#sakuatsu #haikyuu #sakusa kiyoomi #miya atsumu #bre's thread fics

[punkscowardschampions]

Lush pt.2

Dash: they’re still on you 🩰 from before, I can’t quit playing your vid

Lux: I should be embarrassed but I can’t be, it only makes me want you to see me more

Dash: I’ve gotta while there’s ☀️ light left to 👀 you by

Lux: There’ll be the 🔥 then the 🌟s

Dash: meet me in the orchard for a sec, we can choose our tree

Lux: Now?

Dash: just for 5

Lux: You’ve already upped how long but

Dash: but yeah? you wanna?

Lux: Yes

Dash: I’m off my knees & omw

Lux: Hopefully I know where you mean

Dash: [give her some directions]

Lux: I thought so

Dash: I don’t wanna lose you

Lux: [turn up at these trees after manoeuvring through this messy jungle of a garden, careful or you’ll need a tetanus hun]

Dash: [speaking of, catch this boy casually eating an apple off a pocket knife as he leans against a tree waiting, only to literally cut himself when she appears because he’s so down bad that he’s immediately LOOKING at her instead of what he’s doing, dropping this half eaten fruit because it’s got his blood on it and putting his finger in his mouth, what a greeting]

Lux: [walking over to him with the caution of being OVERWHELMED by how he looks, and actually allowing yourself to look at him, if not make full and consistent eye contact, this giving way to rushing over and cradling his hand, those eldest instincts kicking in, trying to see if this cut is superficial and chill or something to concern ourselves fully with, as I doubt you’re bleeding to death, shaking your head with a small smile ‘no hooks’ like what did I tell you about juggling knives, boy, taking the step back and moving from the contact that circumstances forced into happening that quickly]

Dash: [when you were trying to look so cool and you fumbled it haha, we can all hear his heart BEATING at this hand cradling moment because it’s the first contact she’s initiated, circumstantial or not, hence smiling a bit too big at her joke purely because he’s !! before clearing his throat when she steps back and looking up at the tree he was leaning against because that’s the excuse of why they’re here, then looking at her like okay how about this one? even though we all know he blatantly has a fave that he’d choose and is waiting to see if she will that isn’t this tree]

Lux: [looking up into the canopy too, swallowing back any response to his reaction there because you cannot, walking from trunk to trunk, not entirely sure what you’re meant to be searching for in a tree because you can’t even imagine it, dropping your eyes back down to meet his quizzically for a moment ‘do you tie yourselves in?’]

Dash: [have a lil wander through these trees, him either walking close enough to her that once again their arms brush if there’s space to be side by side or so close behind her that it would be laughable if that was the mood instead of this tension, casually reaching out to touch a random set of initials that someone has carved into one of these trees at some point because he’s thinking he has a knife and he literally could do theirs but he’s not trying to freak her out by being extra af ‘people do, I don’t’ in such a what will be, will be tone, as if, if you’re destined to fall out of a tree then so be it, again feel my Junie eye roll, sir your mother is paralysed don’t be a reckless fool]

Lux: [looking around y’all at floor level, a sigh of relief at there not being all the people around that there was in the living room when you were watching your film, tracing these initials with your finger, following behind his like you were just walking moments ago; raising a brow at this statement because you think that’s ridiculous and will not be chancing a paralysing fall from a height but you don’t need to come for him about it that hard]

Dash: [not noticing her eyebrow raise because he’s too busy being a silly lil monkey boy and climbing up one of these trees, despite it still not being his ideal one, staying on a pretty low branch and reaching a hand down to help her up because it isn’t his ideal tree so we don’t need to climb to the top but he’s just doing the vibe of when you’re looking around a house and you’re not at all interested but you still are nosy anyway] 

Lux: [hoping he doesn’t notice you wiping your hands on your skirt because you’re scared they’ll be clammy when he reaches for them but you do let him help you because it’s practical but you also want the excuse to briefly hold hands, sit down beside him, dangling your legs]

Dash: [gonna say the hand he reached for her with is his dominant one and thus the one he cut his finger on and even though that isn’t deep it’s probably still bleeding/bleeding again with this climb in that annoying way fingers do, so at some point later when she’s gone back inside to carry on getting ready for this bonfire or whatever she can notice that she has some of his blood on her hand, for the peak romance of it all, but anyway, for now look around and incline your head towards some other trees in a check those out, what do you think of them from up here and this new angle kinda way, before he inevitably gets distracted watching her legs dangle because whether or not she’s in her bonfire outfit yet I nevertheless doubt she’s dressed for tree climbing and gotta check her out always]

Lux: [when you can barely bring yourself to look at these trees because you don’t really care but you do think it’s adorable that he does so of course you oblige, smiling to yourself about it as you let your eyes flicker back and forth from him and these trees, swinging your legs up and leaning your back against the bow of this branch, as if testing out what sleeping here would remotely look like but your feet are in his lap because he’s here and there’s not going to be room enough for the two of you to stretch out]

Dash: [this boy could likewise no longer care less suddenly from the moment her feet are in his lap, we can’t lie, LOOKING down at them and shifting as if to get y’all both as comfy as you can be but really you’re just HYPER aware of your own lap rn in that teen boy way like oh no please don’t let my body make it super obvious how into this I am and make this awks, nevertheless can’t help but LOOK over at her and try and make eye contact though despite knowing that would make said awks and said horniness much more likely, it all feels that out of his control rn]

Lux: [actually making eye contact because you said you wanted to and you meant it, the !! noise making you choke practically with your attempt to swallow it down, red-faced again but determined not to run away right now, shuffling forward, putting your feet either side of him, moving into the space between his legs, knees raised, resting your head on one like the cool skin there can calm down your blushing cheeks]

Dash: [it cannot be overstated how much every second of that makes him die because he didn’t expect to actually get the eye contact yet so that’s killing him because immediately feeling a type of way about it and then there’s her noise and her blush and then she’s moving and basically posing looking like art, tis a constant onslaught on this boy’s senses in a way he is not used to AT ALL because he’s usually the one having this effect on people and like she said, it being basically effortless, softly saying her name like he’s trying it out what he thinks of it and if it’s perfect for her or not, much like they are here trying out trees, because the first time he has said it, shamelessly also trying out the effect it’ll have on them both too, ofc, because already we’re so glad that her feet are no longer in his lap, let’s just say that, horniness off the charts]

Lux: [knocking your knees closed reflexively as he says your name for the first time because no one has ever said it like that or in a context even a little like this and that’s short-circuited your brain in this moment, the recognition and how right it feels, pushing yourself up and onto your knees so you are leaning over him, LOOKING down and doing a shaky breath ‘Dash?’ quiet but intense]

Dash: [has 10000% short circuited his own brain as well by saying it and how it made him feel, god bless, nevertheless instinctively and immediately moving towards and putting his arms on her to steady her as she moves, despite what he said about it being up to fate if he falls out of a tree or not, I imagine they’ve naturally found somewhere to rest that’s accidentally on purpose more saucy than the safety of it all requires, like her waist or something, not moving them away though as he LOOKS back at her for what would feel like a thousand years but is defs only a second, but still, SQUEEZING in that second so he’s really holding her in a deliberate way]

Lux: [when you say his name for a second time there is no hesitating question in your tone at all, the comparative loudness making it seem as firm as the way he’s holding you, a moan, instinctively sinking into him and getting as close as you can here, putting your hand at the base of his neck as if it’s just another steadying measure when that’s just a fraction of the reasoning]

Dash: [making such a !! noise about all of that, quietly but you might as well have screamed it for how dramatic it would feel because you can’t stop it from happening and how close y’all are to each other, moving his head so that they are close enough to forehead touch or kiss but not yet because in no world do you wanna rush that even though you blatantly also do, saying her name again, but with a question in it in the way that he’s clearly asking for permission]

Lux: [the concentration it is taking to not crash your face into his immediately, doing tiny pants, tongue slightly poking out with the effort, licking your bottom lip as you nod, swallowing to make your voice come, still hoarse, unavoidably so ‘I want you’]

Dash: [immediately crashing his face into hers the exact way she wanted to a second ago but did not because what a perfect mirroring moment and we love to see it, moaning against her lips almost before they’ve even touched because of how !! he is and how much he wants to, adorably despite feeling feral and literally unavoidably and instinctively PULLING her into him so dramatically with his hands which haven’t moved, trying at the same time to keep this kiss really innocent and soft and chaste because he remembers her saying she’s only done this with 1 other boy before]

Lux: [gasping as you likewise pull him to you, hugging your arms around his shoulders and finding yourself pulled back down so you’re sat between his legs and he’s between yours, god bless you trying but all logical thoughts have gone out the window so we’re really frantically and messily going for this kiss, even if the way we are is clumsy and teeth are knocked together, we aren’t becoming self-conscious yet we’re too in this]

Dash: [we’re all aware that attempt at chivalry is only lasting a nanosecond anyway before he’s abandoning it to match her in doing the absolute most as if y’all aren’t in a tree you could fall out of, letting go off her waist so that his hands are alternating between grabbing her hair and holding her face as if it’s possible to pull her closer and deepen this makeout sesh via either of those when it simply is not]

Lux: [thank god we’re not here to fuck y’all up like that right this second, you’re welcome, losing yourself in this so ridiculously, pulling his tongue into your mouth as far as you can, muffled words that can’t be understood, only in vibe alone, begging him to go deeper]

Dash: [imagine, that would be so rude, however low this branch may be that you’re on rn, I keep thinking that at any moment some peeps could appear to pick fruit or have their own shenanigans and see this, not that either of you can or would care at all atm lol, you’re welcome that we’re likewise letting you live and letting everyone be busy with bonfire prep and meal prep and all the things, anyway, giving her the same muffled nonsense back which if it could be understood would be a running monologue of exactly how he feels rn and about her because he’s so !!]

Lux: [undoubtedly someone will come a running and that will be what breaks y’all apart but we won’t do it this quickly, let you have a full Moment ™ here, making out ferally, not falling from the tree, just]

Dash: [this tension has been building over the course of however many hours and that would feel like forever to you hormonal teens so we gotta let y’all release at least some of it and have the privacy to do that because lord knows the bonfire won’t give you that, there’ll be hippies everywhere, Amber included I’m sure because as much as she’s sick of this her mum would lowkey force her to get involved in everything because she’s that bitch, for now you’re alone and allowed to make the most of that, cue him ferally running his hands over her entire body basically as this makeout continues, GRABBING her everywhere like he’ll fall to his death if he doesn’t]

Lux: [mhmm, and it’ll be a mission to convince you to go to the bonfire once you get quote-unquote caught out here so we’re truly not betting on that here and now, if we were thinking at all and not just following what feels right]

Dash: [mhmm, you’d feel like everyone was talking about you at said bonfire, I don’t blame you gal I would not be going in your place, meanwhile in the here and now I like to imagine that one of these branches are creaking ominously thanks to how feral this makeout sesh has become but it would take it actually breaking to stop him and it isn’t, so]

Lux: [exactly dr phil, it’s a valid paranoia honestly, who can fault you, a paranoia that exists to the point that this creaking has you pulling back, freezing, to assess where the sound came from, when your own movements elicit the same noise, you can laugh for now, pushing back into him, still laughing into the kiss]

Dash: [^^ it would be perfectly valid for a cis teen girl and she has the added fear for not being however much he claims everyone is nice and accepting because yeah hun they are to you, you’re not the target of these jk rowling-que terf lesbians or gross angry straight men, but I digress, join her a breathless hot lol even though it’ll turn into just shamelessly unhinged breathing when she’s kissing him again because that momentary pause was enough to have this fool almost forgetting/downplaying just how !! kissing her is but then he cannot and he’s moving her onto his lap with an unholy noise into her mouth about it]

Lux: [‘miss me?’ intended as a playful joke at his unhinged response but it’s too real and you have to make your own !! sound about it, pressing against him in an undeniable way, just to test it]

Dash: [doing the most insane nose rub of his down the entire length of hers as he emphatically nods in answer to that question because they are that close and lbr kissing again as soon as she’s asked it, doing a ‘yeah’ which is fully a MOAN in answer to the question she asked with that move because he’s so into it and needs her to know as if it wasn’t obvious af]

Lux: [rubbing your cheek against his, like you’re amazed it could get any hotter and he also needs to know RIGHT NOW, alluding to but not directly mentioning or drawing attention to the fact you’d both be able to feel how turned on you are, painfully so at this point, nodding back like your head’ll fall off, moving from cheek to cheek to a dramatic makeout once more]

Dash: [these two both found dead from how turned on they are tbh, which is very possible given how much he cannot keep still in any way in this tree rn, catch him taking a sec to kiss her cheek and all along her jaw and down her neck while she’s nodding, before like my boo said she’s rubbing against his other cheek and they are making out again]

Lux: [I’ll take this chance to be evil and cockblock y’all before you are allowed to get any more carried away, the way these people saw nothing but are now going to see this gal sprinting down from this tree back to the house like a gazelle, like hello??? Lol soz guys but you’ve had your fun]

Dash: [mhmm, we all know where that heading if we didn’t and nobody needs to see y’all doing that up a tree thank you, soz to whoever that gal collides with at some point on her way because peeps everywhere at all times, in every room, doorway and on every step, whoever you are you will be falling like bowling pins bye, catch him calling her name from up this tree with so much !! as if that’ll stop her in her tracks, nope sir it will not, following her down but by the time he has climbed from even that low branch she is long gone because not with it enough to be as immediate as her/really did think calling her name would give him that sec he needed for her to stop and him to slightly recover his senses, me imagining said peeps like oh hi Dash ?? fancy seeing you here lol lol how random so he is also getting waylaid to have a matey convo he isn’t in the mood to have whilst still the most noticeably turned on and flustered anyone has ever been]

Lux: [mortifying, you must have found some hidey-holes by this point and that’s where you’re trying to get to as fast as you can whilst apologising profusely to anyone you run into, RIP]

Dash: [soz huns but we had to do it to you, especially you Dash because you wanna be mr popular, how’s it feel here in this moment when you can’t just run away, hmm? How do you like the taste of them apples as my father would say LOL LOL, we could say Amber is one of the peeps she runs into btw as an in for doing a them convo after this because obvs she’d message like um are you okay sis?]

Lux: [good idea girl]

Dash: don’t flip out

Dash: they only saw me 😍 & 🤯😳🥵

Lux: I nearly ran them over

Dash: you’ve got a bonfire to dress outta sight for 

Dash: it’s chill

Lux: That’s not how it looked

Dash: it’s what I said, I covered you

Lux: Oh my goodness

Dash: you’re a wallflower, [namedropping these peeps like she has any clue who they are or that’s in any way helpful that you’re saying they know she’s shy] know about being new

Lux: This isn’t about being new, or shy

Dash: nah but that’s why they think you bugged out is what I’m laying on you

Lux: They so do not, come on!

Lux: It was too obvious

Dash: they were looking down not up, trust

Dash: they didn’t even 👀 you before your split

Lux: They wouldn’t say if they had

Dash: why you so pressed if they did?

Lux: Are you serious?

Dash: it’s cold you don’t wanna be seen with me

Lux: No, that’s not what it is

Dash: what is it?

Lux: It’s just embarrassing because it is, not because of you

Dash: you 🏃🏼‍♀️⚡️

Lux: I shouldn’t have done that but I shouldn’t have been up the tree with you so it’s the lesser of two evils, I can say I felt sick

Dash: you’re rattled 👌🏽 but it cuts low you’d say kissing me was 👿 & a shouldn’t thing

Lux: Not like that, in a public place, in the middle of the day

Dash: alone in a tree

Lux: Someone could come at any minute, and did

Dash: I’d kiss you anywhere in front of anybody

Lux: You said they saw you 😍 & 🤯😳🥵

Dash: yeah

Dash: I am still

Lux: People aren’t stupid, what do you think they’re thinking

Dash: that I want you & I do

Lux: Why would you not just

Lux: never mind

Dash: nah, finish up

Lux: You knew how ashamed I was by the way I ran off

Dash: right on, they gonna 💭 I’m 😍 & 🤯😳🥵 one sided & you ran from me

Lux: Well, that’s not what I wanted

Dash: you freaked out, cut yourself some slack

Lux: I don’t know, I’m sorry

Dash: accepted, we’re good

Lux: You enjoy the bonfire 

Dash: wait

Dash: you’re not coming?

Lux: I can’t

Dash: for real?

Lux: There’s no way I can see anyone now

Dash: we can just hang alone

Lux: No, you should go, you were looking forward to it

Dash: for you 

Lux: I’m good here, I’ll chill

Dash: I picked a 🌳

Dash: if you change your mind, this’ll help you find me

Dash: [and a pic of his bandana, cos he’d always have one in his hair or around his wrist ofc, around a branch of said tree to claim it]

Lux: See you around, okay?

Dash: later, golden girl

[beskar-candy]

soft around you (x 2)

i keep seeing plus-sized reader fics that dive into body image issues, internalised fatphobia, etc, and i completely respect the significance of those for other people but it’s just not for me. i wanted to offer something more body neutral, or at least try to. i am a beginner writer so pls be gentle! no beta, we die like death watch mandalorians.

relationship: din djarin x gender neutral reader x twi'lek female OC

rating: E, yes this gets spicy so 18+ only or ELSE.

words: 6.6k. oops

contains: plus-sized gender neutral reader described as little as possible other than having more surface area to love and also joint pain and hands smaller than din’s (man’s got big ass hands), polyamory but make it beginners' edition, accidental acquaintances to lovers, bisexual besties only half joking about wanting to date each other, developing big feelings very fast, minimal foreplay and saliva as makeshift lube, protected penetrative intercourse in vague and hopefully gender neutral terms, strong violence and wounding, some angst, din gets harmed by a culturally significant weapon but it’s discussed in detail, warning for discussion of the Great Purge of Mandalore which was essentially colonialism and genocide so please do not read if that doesn’t support your mental health journey

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you first laid eyes on Din, the first thing that struck you was how strong he is. Not chiselled and lean in the way dehydrated holo-vid stars are, but actually strong – beneath his well-fed belly is the strength of a warrior. You hadn’t meant to look, of course. You’ve met Mandalorians before – unavoidable, really, in your line of work. You would never actively try to get a peek under the beskar without consent, as some had definitely seemed to care more than others about remaining covered at all times. Plenty of cultures in the galaxy have similar customs. But it was your responsibility as a weapons smith and shop co-owner to tend to injured customers, wasn’t it? Especially if the injury was inflicted with one of your weapons, and the injured customer got beaten halfway to Mustafar before deciding to simply hurl his assailant’s entire body into your merchandise and earn his reward in under a minute. Such misunderstandings are common on Nevarro, affectionately known across the system as the bounty hunter's haven. Yes, you were only being a decent and sensible person. It had nothing at all to do with how that mirror-like helmet had held your gaze for several seconds longer than socially necessary. How the visor seemed to sweep every hill and valley of your generously shaped body. Or how his gloved hands seem to completely engulf yours. Or... well. You were just being a good person.

One hour before

You huff out a breath of exhaustion and wipe your sweat-dampened face with the backs of your hands. The dim light of the workshop isn’t helping your tired eyes, and there seems to always be smudges of blaster oil on every surface despite your constant cleaning. You stretch towards the ceiling slowly, having made your peace with the ache in your back and neck a long time ago. “Nyx?” you croak. The Twi’lek bookkeeper and co-owner pops her head around the doorway with eyebrows raised. “I’m going to snap at the next customer who asks me to repair thirteen pre-Imperial blaster pistols in a standard day. I might just snap at the next customer, period,” you groan pitifully, pressing your forehead flat against your workbench. Nyx gives you a sympathetic smile, and you turn to watch her tilt her head in amusement, her long blue lekku swaying gracefully with her movement. “Drinks at the Guild cantina?” she asks knowingly, more of a statement than a question. You shoot up rapidly to meet her gaze, light having returned to your eyes. Her laughter rings out through the stagnant air as she wraps her arms around your strong neck from behind. “Thought so,” she murmurs into your ear, pressing a soft kiss against your oil-smudged cheek.

“Nyx?”

“Yes, my love?”

You plop your ample chin into your hands, elbows propped against the workbench for support. “Date me,” you suggest half-earnestly. She grins, all pearly teeth and twinkling eyes as she steps backwards as if to check you out for the first time. You ignore your heart as it flip-flops under her mirthful gaze.

“I’m a hot commodity. You’ll have to make an appointment first.”

She wiggles her eyebrows as you gasp in faux offence, but can’t quite keep yourself from matching her grin. It is at that moment that blaster fire echoes outside, ricochets pinging off your front windows.

Nyx grabs your hand reflexively and you both scurry towards the source of the noise. Excitement seems to vibrate in the air – an overconfident quarry about to have their shit rocked no doubt – when a towering, broad man covered in head to toe beskar stumbles through your doorway. It has to be the most of the metal you’ve ever seen on one person. His breastplate heaves from exertion as he presses his back to the wall by the door, withdrawing a well-loved but otherwise pristine blaster from its holster. “Armorer, I need you to stay there,” he rumbles through his helmet’s vocoder, eyes never leaving the doorway. His deep rasp strikes your nerves like lightning, wavering somewhere between anxiety and arousal. Ordinarily you would say something snarky about being able to defend yourself, but somehow it didn’t come across as patronising – more that he just didn’t want to be interrupted. Besides, that much pure beskar only means your day is about to get more interesting. And nobody had ever addressed you as an ‘armorer’ before. Certainly not in such a... pleasing voice. Nyx side-eyes you curiously, but you just shrug and squeeze her hand reassuringly as you both remain in place by the credits register.

As if on cue, a young humanoid man in tattered and bloodstained clothes runs in, noticeably favouring his left leg. You muster a polite customer service smile and nod in his direction as the hulking shadow of the armoured man silently approaches him from behind.

“Pardon me, esteemed weapons smith, did you happen to see a certain bounty hunter that-”

The Mandalorian strikes him sharply in the back of the head before the man can finish his sentence. The young man crumples halfway to the floor onto his injured knee. His wince echoes through the room. A small smile grows on your face as the Mandalorian silently retreats a step, an apex predator winding back in preparation to pounce. Surprisingly, the bedraggled man manages to block the beskar vambrace as it comes crashing down on him. He staggers to his feet and lands a well-aimed jab at the Mandalorian’s unprotected side, before landing several other shots to the gaps in the beskar. Nyx’s grip on your hand tightens almost painfully. The Mandalorian takes a few steps backwards, seemingly surprised but relatively unaffected by the blows, before lunging and landing several of his own. The two go back and forth until the young man draws a nasty-looking dagger from his boot, and they struggle for a moment until he manages to sink it into the larger man’s thigh. The Mandalorian lets out a grunt and clasps his injured leg for a moment. The quarry takes the opportunity to slide across the floor beneath him and smash his captor’s helmet against the ground hard, the deafening clang making you jolt in shock. It’s messy and inelegant, but the smaller man continues to land blow after blow, managing to inflict a couple more cuts to areas unprotected by beskar.

A chill flows down your spine as you recognise the blade in his unrelenting grip. Just two standard weeks ago, a slightly dodgy local antique dealer had sold you a small chunk of unrefined beskar alloy. Having assessed it to be genuine with your magnifying lens, you’d bought it at a bargain, gleeful at his ignorance of its true value. You had relished being able to practice the highly technical smithing techniques you’d learned over the years from a kind, older Mandalorian lady who had frequented your shop before she'd moved away. You had relished the opportunity to make something for the sheer enjoyment of it instead of credits. You’d then gifted it to a Mandalorian customer passing through from off-world and promptly gotten on with your day. It clearly had not remained with them.

You freeze in place, horror and regret boiling inside you as the Mandalorian’s blood begins to seep through his armorweave onto the concrete floor. You have sometimes had the misfortune of seeing people wounded or killed by weapons you made or handled, but this was different. This was much worse, knowing what beskar meant to his people. Adrenaline thrums through your veins as you watch the beskar-clad man stoically attempt to block the onslaught of blows, the young man clearly invigorated by what he thinks is an imminent victory over his hunter. Just when you are starting to think it’s over for the Mandalorian, he rolls clear of the quarry and rises from the ground to throw his attacker’s body clear across the room. The young man unceremoniously crashes into your ammunition display and knocks over several catalogue stands. He rolls halfway onto his back and groans, but before he can regain his composure, the hunter elbows him in the nose hard enough that the crack of his head against the floor echoes off the walls. The man on the floor goes motionless. Seemingly unsatisfied, the Mandalorian slowly and carefully pulls a beskar spear from where it was tied to his back, before shoving it clean through the man’s leg for good measure. The hunter, holding one gloved hand to the worst of the wounds in his side, manages to clasp the binders shut with the other. Once the quarry is restrained, he removes the spear in one practiced movement, then bends down to collect the beskar dagger that had spilled so much of his blood.

You instantly tug your hand free and run to him on pure instinct. “I’ve got a med kit here for situations like this. Stay still,” you order him. Panting, the beskar mountain of a man collapses heavily to the floor as you flip the door sign to ‘closed’. Nyx quickly hands you the kit and medical scanner, with which you immediately run a helmet-to-toe scan to assess his injuries. Once you establish that the wounds are from the abdomen down, you find your eyes glued to the movement of a small strip of visible belly with each breath. His armorweave tunic must have ridden up in the struggle, revealing light golden skin dusted with brown hair. Shaking yourself out of your distraction, you move to lift his shirt further and he snatches your wrist before you can, but doesn’t push you away. He then apparently thinks better of it and loosens his grip on you a little. “I’m not going to touch your helmet,” you promise, bringing your gaze to meet his as sincerely as possible, “I just need to stop you from dying on my floor.” That seems to appease him and he gently releases your wrist, giving a small nod of consent. You go into a kind of trance, gesturing at each piece of armour before you pull it off, only removing the necessary parts for you to treat his wounds. As if on autopilot, you start cleaning and stitching them shut, ignoring the heat rising in your chest as deep grunts slip out through his helmet occasionally. Before long you’re soaking gauze in bacta and meticulously dressing each laceration. You finish in a matter of minutes. He wasn’t the first customer to get injured in or near your shop, and he would hardly be the last.

Only when you are done do you allow yourself to really look at him. How stupidly broad his shoulders are. How his soft belly rises and falls under your hand, now laid still against his pleasantly warm skin. How his pants cling a little tight to the thickness of his thighs and... other areas. After putting his armour back on, he clears his throat and slowly gets to his feet, offering you a hand up as well. “Name’s Din,” he murmurs quietly, as if it were for your ears only.

“Huh? Oh. Okay,” you acknowledge dimly, all thoughts having vacated your brain. Your voice sounds far away in your ears as you introduce yourself in return.

“Thanks,” he adds, then immediately turns on his heel, cape swishing behind him, and begins moving for the door.

“Wait!” you call after him. He halts mid-stride, then turns to face you.

“You – I should take a look at your spear. Free of charge, of course. Least I can do after... all that,” you babble nervously, wiping your palms on your coveralls.

After a contemplative pause, he nods his gratitude and reaches out to politely present you with the spear. Your heart beats hard in your chest as his large, weather-roughened gloves completely wrap around your hands. You look up and inhale sharply as his helmet slowly moves down and then back up your body, seemingly taking in every centimetre of you for the first time. Your widened eyes remain glued to where you’re pretty sure his are behind the dark T of the helmet, not even noticing as blood continues to drip off the point of the spear onto the floor.

“Yuck. Spotchka anyone?” Nyx interjects cheerfully from behind the register, already scuttling towards the break room before anyone can reply. “Uh... yeah,” you call out absent-mindedly, eyes still locked onto Din’s.

You both immediately look away as she returns, placing cups on the little caf table in the waiting area and filling them with a gratuitous amount of the bright blue liquid. “So, Mando,” Nyx begins warmly, “do you always get your behind handed to you?” You choke a little on your drink and shoot her an amused look. Din sinks into his chair with relaxed posture and gloved hands clasped between his spread thighs, seemingly taking the comment in good humour. “Only when my quarry is carrying a Mandalorian weapon,” he responds after a beat. Your nose wrinkles in discomfort.

“It’s not actually – I would never claim to... I made it,” you manage finally. His helmet snaps to face you. “It’s nowhere near the quality of the things my mentor would make, I was just so excited to have the opportunity to work with beskar and use the techniques she taught me. I know I’ll never have the depth of knowledge a Mandalorian armorer has-“

“Could’ve fooled me,” he interrupts, surprisingly good-natured. You can’t help but smile bashfully. A glowing compliment indeed from someone who seems to be a very reserved man. He goes completely still for a moment, a thought crossing his mind. “Was it made with Imperial-forged beskar?”

You shake your head vehemently. “We work hard to keep the lights on around here, but I would never knowingly accept something stolen by Imperials,” you tell him seriously. “It was unrefined beskar alloy, not totally pure, not an ingot. No engravings or anything.” He visibly relaxes again and your little smile returns.

Nyx observes the two of you with a raised brow as you drain the last of the spotchka in your cup and get to cleaning and repairing tiny dents in the spear.

“You know, we’ll have owned this place for three years next week,” Nyx tells him with no small amount of pride. Din turns his helmet to face her with interest. “She does the calculations and handles the business side of things, I work with the weapons,” you explain further, continuing to meticulously manipulate the barely noticeable dips and ridges in the metal.

“And... how long have you been together?” he asks in a semblance of small talk, taking great pains to sound casual.

“Oh well, we’re not exactly-“ you begin as Nyx also replies, “We’re just really close. People being pals you might say.”

“I see.” The Mandalorian shifts almost imperceptibly in his seat. “And what about you?” he continues, that dark T of his helmet locked onto her face. Nyx’s eyes widen. “Oh, well, you know. Not really looking, but not ruling anything out either.” You steal a side glance at her, wondering if that means what you think it means. You suddenly find yourself concentrating very hard on polishing the spear like your life depends on it. Minutes pass between the three of you in silence. “Here you are, sir,” you fluster, thrusting the cleaned and repaired spear away from you like it burned you. Din rises to his full height sinfully slow, stride no longer affected thanks to the bacta and care you gave him, and his hands completely cover yours once again as he takes it from you. You try to stop yourself from hyperventilating as he steps even closer to you while testing the spear’s balance in his hands. “Looks good,” he comments finally, sweeping his gaze down and back up your body again. You are too overcome by his attention to see Nyx bristle slightly beside you. His cape flows around him again as he turns and leaves your establishment.

You and Nyx both burst into incredulous laughter at what had just happened once his footsteps fade from earshot. “He probably thought he was being subtle,” she giggles, kicking her feet up onto the caf table. “Oh Armorer, how long have you been dating this radiant bookkeeper? ‘Cause if you aren't I would just love to press you against this wall,” she imitates in a humorously deep voice. You snort at her impression of him. “Me? ‘And what about you?’ Like you wouldn’t also climb him like a tree,” you shoot back playfully. Nyx hums, twirling a lekku in mock contemplation.

“I don’t know, that cute girl at the nuna roll stand seems like she’s about to ask me out-“

“Just admit it!”

“Okay, so he’s got the whole big warrior man thing going for him. It’s not... not attractive,” she replies with a grin. Nyx then pulls her feet off the table and sits up straight. “Are you thinking of making a move the next time he visits?”

You chew your lip in thought. “Maybe? Could be worth a shot,” you consider. “Do you think he’d treat you right?” the Twi’lek asks, suddenly serious. “Like I would treat you?” Something clicks in the back of your mind, but you brush it off. Nyx has always been a flirty person.

“He seemed....” you trail off thoughtfully. “I don’t know. He seemed gentle, I guess. Considering how he absolutely obliterated that poor bounty.”

She nods in acknowledgement, eyes fixed on the floor. “Anyway,” you add as casually as possible, “who knows if he’ll be back?”

A week later

Minutes before closing time, the Mandalorian enters your workplace carrying no fewer than five duffel bags stuffed with weapons. “I told my – I told a covert on Glavis about you,” he begins somewhat hesitantly. “They had a lot to say about the knife. And my spear.” You do a little jog of excitement to the door and flip the sign to ‘closed’, as you had a week ago. “And?” you reply expectantly, practically bouncing on your toes with anticipation of the contents of the bags. It was a shame Nyx had already called it a day – you find yourself wanting her to see all of it. To be sharing this moment with you. Din sighs under his helmet, a frustrated, almost embarrassed sound. “I think we should sit down,” he suggests, sounding unsure in a way you weren’t expecting. Both of you take the same seats in the waiting area as you had the week previously, a frown burrowing into your forehead. You begin nervously playing with the waistband of your pants which have become tighter since sitting down.

“Is something wrong? Did I damage something?” you ask anxiously. He shakes his head. “I’ve learned something about Mandalorian culture I didn’t know before. Something I thought you would want to know too,” he tells you through what sounds like gritted teeth. He has already spoken more words to you since entering than in his entire last visit. “The spear, the dagger, they believed they shouldn’t exist.”

You tilt your head in confusion. “Shouldn’t exist?” you repeat, shocked. He sighs again, his discomfort with talking so much and so vulnerably apparent. His voice sounds tight when he explains further. “There are some of us who believe beskar should not be forged into weapons, only armour. The Armorer of the covert told me of a young Mandalorian girl who once thought to build a weapon capable of bypassing beskar. The Empire stole her design and used it to murder hundreds of us.” You instinctively cover your mouth with a hand to suppress a sound that never comes.

Din has gone completely still, shoulders tense as a boulder. “The Armorer believed my spear, the dagger, that their very existence threatened us. Beskar pierces beskar.”

You shrink further into your chair, thighs pooling beneath you as your press yourself into it. You want to sink into the lava flats of this Maker-forsaken planet and quietly pass away from shame. “I didn’t know,” you confess in a small voice. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have-“

“It doesn’t matter. The alloy you were given was not pure enough to pierce my armour. But she did melt them down and forge them into armour for foundlings – for young ones who need their help in the future,” he informs you with surprising softness. You can only close your eyes and nod in solemn agreement.

“Maker, I’m so sorry. My mentor, she never spoke of this. Only of how much she loved that the art of forging beskar had been cultivated and kept over centuries. She was so excited to share it with me.”

He nods slowly, deep in thought. “It was drawn to my attention some time ago that the Way I was raised with is not the only way to be a Mandalorian,” he tells you, gloved hands clasped tightly between his thigh guards. “There are many who craft blades from beskar. Your mentor probably one of them. I was raised in a specific sect, with its own beliefs and customs about how things should be. Children of the Watch must never remove their helmets in front of others. Yet I have met warriors who remove them constantly. But I... am not welcome in that covert any longer.” Pain enters his voice in the last sentence like a stone sitting in his throat. Your heart breaks for him. This stoic, gentle warrior who had been cast aside by his own people like so much waste, however justified they felt in their reasoning. Tentatively, you reach out and take his hand into yours. His stiff posture seems to instantly melt under your touch. “Din – can I call you Din?” you begin gently, running your thumb over the back of his glove. After a moment of consideration, he nods. “I’m really sorry they turned you away. I don’t know much about the nuances of Mandalorian culture, but I do know you must have had a good reason to remove your helmet. And it doesn’t make you a bad person, Din. It just means you’re different now.” His inhale shudders in response to your words. The hunter before you tilts his helmet to the floor. You wonder if he has ever been told he is enough before. If he knows that every being in the galaxy makes choices that others don’t understand, and are still worthy of being loved. If he knows that includes him.

When he raises his head again to meet your gaze, something clicks into place inside him and he tightens his grip on your hand, lifting it to press the back of your hand against the forehead of his helmet. It feels so tender that you’re not sure how to respond other than simply savouring the gesture. “So these weapons aren’t from them, for you to fix. They’re mine,” Din admits, gently placing your hand back in your lap. “I brought them because I want to ask you something.” A hopeful feeling shoots up your spine. “If you say no, I will simply pay you for your time, collect all of this and be on my way. But I was wondering... if you might come with me when I leave in a month.” Your eyes go wide as a loth cat’s.

“Come with you? Where?”

“Where I'm needed. You’re skilled with weapons and first aid.”

Oh. Din was inviting you to join him because it made practical sense. A booked and busy bounty hunter like him could obviously use in-house weapons maintenance and the occasional patch-up. You try to squash down the excitement you had felt at the prospect of him having any other intentions. A breath whooshes out of your lungs, and all of your good sense with it. “Okay,” you blurt after barely a moment. The bounty hunter nods and reclines in his chair, legs spread, his posture radiating an energy of quiet confidence that makes your pelvis grow warm. “But... what about Nyx? She’s better at piloting than me,” you add. Din considers this for a moment. “She didn’t seem interested.”

You don’t think that’s strictly true, but then she also hadn’t expressed any intention to get to know him better. “You should come back tomorrow,” you suggest, “and leave your weapons. I’ll service them for you and when you pick them up at the end of the day we can... talk more.” He stands up from his seat and gives you another nod of acknowledgement before heading for the door. The poor man had probably overshot his conversation quota for the day. “And Din?” you call out to his back. He turns a little so the side of his helmet faces you. “Thank you for sharing all of that with me. You didn’t have to,” you tell him, trying to squeeze every gram of tenderness you feel into your voice. The Mandalorian gives you another small nod, before facing forwards again and leaving your shop.

The next day, you put a makeshift sign out the front claiming something or other about being closed for fumigation. You had already made enough from the thirteen blaster pistols client to justify the peace and quiet. Nyx had decided to take the day off, leaving you to work your way through the cleaning and maintenance of Din’s weapons with your favourite holonet podcasts playing softly from the workshop speakers. You find yourself missing the light bell of her voice ringing through the air. The smell of her perfume clinging to your clothes. Something inside you aches without her here. The vibrant enthusiasm of a host’s voice fades into the background as your thoughts then drift to the man in beskar. Despite having only met Din days ago, you feel like maybe he is a small part of you now, after he let himself be so vulnerable with you. You feel like maybe you are a small part of him, and now you carry each other around because of the moment you shared. You recall the way the he had pressed his helmet gently into the back of your hand like a kiss, and a smile breaks across your face. Despite dispensing with his bounty with the incredible violence of a storm, he had been so open with you. You had agreed to leave with him impulsively, but you don’t regret it. Something about the way he had chased a quarry into your doorway, out of every little shopfront on Nevarro, feels cosmic. The glances you shared, his hands overwhelming yours, the electricity crackling between you every moment you were together, it all feels like something much bigger than mere coincidence. It feels like the loving design of some long-forgotten god, waiting centuries just to bring people together.

Your mind turns to Nyx again. In your mind’s eye you see the curve of her smile when she says something cheeky, remember the plush softness of her lips against your cheek. The woman who had been by your side for years, unknowingly being all you ever wanted simply by existing. A moon blessing you with her orbit. Years of late nights walking the tightrope between companionship and something more, chaste kisses in the workshop followed by laughter and more kisses, all swirled together like milk and caf in your mind. You think of her lipstick in your bathroom, and then of Din’s bags on your floor, and then more of her. You wonder how your heart can hold so much love. You wonder if what you feel is love or just infatuation with the concept of both of them. You think... maybe it doesn’t really matter. As you finish up the final piece, you make a decision to ask her something before you leave.

The door swings open and Din’s broad silhouette appears. You grin and run up to meet him, deciding on a whim to wrap your arms around him. He goes still for a moment in surprise, but slowly wraps his arms around you in return and squeezes you against him. One of his gloved hands finds its way into your hair, where he begins to stroke it gently. You look up at him with a beaming smile, unable to contain your affection for this man. You inhale sharply as his hands find your waist and ever so slightly squeeze. The air suddenly grows warm between you as you hold his gaze through the helmet. You blink up at him, suddenly unsure what to do with your hands. You settle for placing your palms on his breastplate and drawing little circles with your fingertips, waiting for his next move. Din sighs, but this time it’s a sound of relief, like taking off your shoes when you get home. You fill so his arms so perfectly, you think you could stay there forever. You’re savouring the warmth of his enormous hands around your waist when he presses his helmet to your forehead, another echo of a kiss. Your breath quickens as he slowly reaches up to stroke your cheek with his thumb, separated from your skin only by the time-smoothed material of his glove. No words are spoken between you but you can feel what he’s trying to say – it’s in the way he holds you close, squeezing at the softness of your curves and dips with the hand that’s not cradling your face. The connection between you is so tangible you think you could reach out and touch it. You keep touching him instead, your hands slipping ever so slowly down to the belt of his pants. “Tell me what you want, Din,” you whisper to him encouragingly. He presses his helmet to your forehead again. “Whatever you’ll give me,” the man behind the armour replies. “Anything. Everything.”

Another smile breaks like the dawn across your lips as you untuck the hem of his tunic and run your hands up the little swell of his glorious abdomen to his chest, rising and falling rapidly under your touch. You squeal unintentionally as he lifts you with ease, gently placing you back down on the edge of your workbench. You hear him inhale sharply as he presses his helmet into the little junction between your neck and shoulder, flings aside his gloves and runs his burning hands over every roll and stretchmark of you greedily. “You’ll be my undoing,” he confesses as he slips the straps of your coveralls down your arms. You tear yourself away from him to shed the remaining layers of fabric between you. “I want to do you first,” you laugh breathlessly, pulling him into the space between your thighs. His hand slips beneath his helmet and into his mouth, coming away slick with spit. You cry out involuntarily as he plunges a finger inside you, filling you the way you’d been craving since he first entered your store. “Maker,” you whimper as he pushes and withdraws, pushes and withdraws like the tides on Naboo. Your eyes roll back as the world narrows to where he adds another finger, then another, your whole sensory universe made up of the pleasure he’s giving you. “Din, I’m gonna-“ He pulls back his hand just as something swells deep in your belly, leaving you to whimper at the empty feeling where he had just been. “Shh, I’m gonna take care of you,” he whispers soothingly, stroking little circles right over your most sensitive area with his thumb. You just know he’s smirking under that helmet as you squirm in overwhelming ecstasy under his heated touch.

The warrior in front of you pulls out his stiff cock with a hiss, hurriedly patting down the pockets now bunched up by his ankles before retrieving a condom. He presses his helmet back into your neck and inhales heavily as he rolls it down with impressive efficiency. “Tell me what you want,” he repeats your earlier words. “Fuck me,” you plead breathily. Your hand claps over your mouth as he pushes the tip of himself inside you, the stretch almost unbearably delicious. It feels like a lot, as prepared as you are for him. He grabs your wrist again, just as tightly as the day you met him, only this time to drag it away from your face. “I want to hear you,” he growls into your ear. “I want to hear everything.” You cry out loudly as he suddenly fills you fully the way you had been waiting for. “Din, more,” you demand, your voice sounding strangely far away beneath the ringing of your blood in your ears. He grunts with effort as he begins thrusting into you harder, deeper, further, hitting a spot that makes your thighs tremble. His low moans spark a fire inside you that rages and feeds off of the roughness of his thrusts. The pressure inside you keeps building as he hits that heavenly spot over and over, with what sounds like curses tumbling from under his helmet in languages you haven’t heard before. “Come for me,” you ask him huskily, and barely seconds later you feel the warmth of him burst into the condom buried within you. He groans loudly and shudders, thrusting weakly and slowly until he’s given you all he has. “Kriff,” Din curses under his breath. You can only nod breathlessly in agreement. The two of you take your time redressing, stealing glances and smiles between each article of clothing. He stills for a moment, hesitating before allowing you help him slot his armour back into place. “I’ll be back once I get this bounty,” the hunter promises, briefly illuminating the hologram on the puck in his pocket. A baby-faced Nikto with a hint of the devil in his eyes flashes up. “Go be good at your job,” you encourage him with a little smile. He presses his helmet into your forehead briefly before slinging his bags onto a stick pressed horizontally against the top of his shoulders, and hauls his belongings out the door.

The following evening

“So, how was yesterday?” Nyx calls out to you from her bedroom with great amusement, kicking her feet and twirling a lekku with her finger. “I’m assuming you sealed the deal?” You can’t stop the smile spreading across your face as you emerge from her shower. “It was... exactly how I thought it would be. Passionate, rough, but somehow still really sweet,” you tell her. Her eyes flash in a challenge as you collapse down next to her in the bed. Something about the thought of you with him lit a fire in her. It had felt like jealousy at first, but now...

“You wanna make out?” she asks you mischievously. "Always," you reply with a grin. Then the clouds of her lips collide with yours, and a rush of desire fills your body. You lean into her as your tongue searches for entry. She opens her mouth and moans quietly as your hand comes up to the back of her neck to pull her closer. You roll on top of her in bed, pressing her hands into the pillow. You tear your mouth away from hers breathlessly. “Good?” you ask, unable to suppress a cocky smirk. Nyx laughs and throws a pillow at you before leaning back in to suck love bites into your neck. Your eyes flutter closed as you try to remember what you were going to say to her. “Wait, wait,” you begin, and she immediately ceases her affections. “What’s wrong?” she asks with concern. “Well, I was wondering...” you trail off, unsure how one is meant to ask their current (sort of) flame about a new one. “What do you think of Din?”

Nyx sits back on her elbows, lekku swishing as she tilts her head in contemplation. “I’ve actually been thinking about it a bit the past few days. I think I like him too,” she admits eventually, wringing her hands in her lap. “I think... I like you with him. You seem happy. And it makes me happy.” Your heart feels like it could flutter right out of you like a porg on its way to a warm fire. You snuggle your face into the silky softness of her chest. “How would that even work?” you wonder aloud. “I don’t know, honeycake,” she replies with a little sigh. “But maybe we could find out. The three of us. Together.” You meet her eyes and nod before settling back down into her arms. “Besides,” she muses, “we would hardly be the first group of beings to feel this way.” The bookkeeper was, of course, correct. Your neighbours growing up had lived together in wedded bliss, the four of them filling your corner of the block with laughter and playful banter. It just hadn’t occured to you that maybe that was an option for you, too. You’d had relationships before, just always one at a time. Not necessarily on purpose, things had just turned out that way. Now, you wonder if things could be different. The two of you would just have to ask Din.

Then you remember what you’d agreed to with him. Specifically, what you’d agreed to without her. “He invited me to go with him,” you blurt suddenly, eyes locking onto hers anxiously. Nyx pulls back from you in surprise. “Well, I think he wanted to invite you too, but then when he blatantly asked you if you’re single you kind of didn’t really respond as enthusiastically as maybe he thought you would, and then you didn’t say anything about liking him after-” She takes your hand tightly in hers. “I would go anywhere with you. Including hitchhiking across the galaxy with a tall beefcake Mandalorian man,” she laughs, pressing a kiss to your intertwined fingers. “Besides, we’ll always have the shop if things don’t work out.” You nod, overwhelmed by the prospect of a new adventure with the two of them.

When he enters your store the next day, he skids to a halt as you both greet him holding hands. “Uh, congratulations,” the hunter tells you awkwardly. You chuckle, and Nyx fails to hide her smile. “We have something to talk to you about,” the Twi’lek woman addresses him firmly, taking his hand in her other one. Din goes very still, but doesn’t let go of her hand. You notice as his breastplate begins to quicken in its rising and falling, just as it had when he first entered your store. His helmet remains angled towards her face, as if glued to examine her stunning features. “I...” his voice cracks a little, and he clears it before continuing. “I was hoping I might talk to you both as well. But you go first.” Din gestures towards the two of you with his and Nyx’s hands clasped tightly. “If you’ll have me,” she begins furtively, eyes darting back and forth across his helmet as if it might give her the right words, “I want to come with you. We both want to come with you. If you’ll have us.” You hear him inhale sharply. He still hasn’t let go of her hand. A moment passes as he thinks it over. “I’d like that,” he replies, voice so soft you almost didn’t catch it through his helmet vocoder. You take his other hand with the one not holding onto Nyx. The three of you are linked together like worshippers at an altar, basking in the light of something new. “Where to first?” you ask him in a whisper, afraid to break the reverie of the moment. He tilts his helmet in a way that makes you wonder if he’s smiling under there, and squeezes both of your hands.

“I gotta pay a visit to a little friend.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #plus sized reader x din djarin #spicy

[redwinterroses]

for requests how about: impulse, encountering some or all of the day one crew and getting Very Uneasy because oh shit, the 3rdlife memories are coming back hard

Hey! Sorry this took me SO long to finish. It was a hard one to write because between you asking this (I think?) and now, Impulse had that whole encounter with Bdubs on the path and I was like "Well I don't want to just write that" and then Cleo showed up? And I haven't ever written her before (except for a few lines in another hero, another mindless crime) so I had to go watch a ton of vids and streams and--

okay. Excuses over. Please enjoy this little "Impulse has a bad time but Friends Are Good" drabble. <3

~~~

Sweet Dreams

The Crastle was bigger than he remembered. Had this hallway always been here? This doorway? This arch that led to another hall…which branched and spiraled and led up stairs and down Escherian ramps in a labyrinth of stone walls and a floor dotted with pressure plates?

Impulse found himself running, breath coming in short, panicked gasps as he dashed down the halls, throwing open doors and darting around corners, leaping over the pressure plates—someone was chasing him.

They were coming for him, glowing red eyes and white teeth—fangs—glinting in the shadows. And over all, the ever-louder beat:

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

It pounded in his ears, deafening, and he stumbled to cower against a wall, hunching with his arms over his head, trying in vain to drown it out. But no—no, it was even louder now, thumping so close it rattled his teeth, and he looked down to see blood spreading across his shirt and at the center where his heart should be: a golden clock embedded in his chest.

“They gave me a clock, Impulse.”

His head snapped up. Bdubs, eyes blank and red like two burning embers, stared down at him, no expression on his grey face.

“Ride or die?” Cleo’s voice came from behind him, and Impulse spun to see her glaring down the length of a crossbow, her eyes as scarlet and expressionless as Bdubs’. “How about… die.”

She fired the crossbow, the bolt exploding into flames that swarmed toward Impulse’s face—

He shot upright in bed, gasping for air. He swallowed hard, rubbing his chest as he gradually caught his breath. His heart pounded so loudly that for one horrible moment he thought it might really have been replaced with a bloody golden clock.

But no. Around him, the night was cool and dark, the silence of the Boatem village broken only by the faint rattling of a distant skeleton and the lowing of cows.

Just a dream. Just a nightmare.

Just another nightmare.

Impulse slumped back against his pillows, flopping one arm over his eyes and letting out a long, shuddering sigh in the darkness. It had been months since they’d moved on from the 3rd Life server, months of good times and laughter and the excitement of new projects and builds… and yet at night, when the voices of his friends faded away and Impulse was left alone with himself—he found himself back. Time and again, his sleeping mind returned to the Crastle, or to Dogwarts, or to the sandy dunes of the Red Desert. And inevitably, he found himself face to face with nightmare versions of his day-one crew: Bdubs and ZombieCleo, red-eyed and vengeful.

“I never betrayed them,” he muttered to the darkness. “Never.”

So why did he feel guilty?

Well. If he was honest with himself… it wasn’t really guilt. Or it was, but not because of anything he’d done in 3rdLife—no, the guilt he felt was because the primary emotion associated with Bdubs and Cleo in his dreams was fear.

These were his friends! Being afraid of them went against every instinct he had, every good memory and inside joke and shared experience. And that was a different world anyway—different rules, different lives. It didn’t change anything here on Hermitcraft.

And yet…

And yet when he saw that clock on Bdubs’ belt the other day, or when he’d come up out of the mines that first morning in Boatem and Cleo had been standing right there, Impulse hadn’t been able to suppress the rising wave of panic that swept over him. Panic over being caught in his web of lies, panic that he might hurt the only people he trusted, panic that they didn’t trust him—

Enough was enough. He needed to get past this; he couldn’t spend the rest of the season (the rest of his life?) having anxiety attacks whenever he encountered any of the other Crastle crew members. Talking with Bdubs on the trail had helped, but… he hadn’t seen Cleo since the first days of the server.

That needed to change.

Impulse threw off the covers and pushed himself out of bed, padding down the stairs to the main level of his house. Grabbing his communicator from where he’d left it atop the crafting bench, he tapped out two quick messages:

<impulseSV> you whisper to ZombieCleo: hey, can we meet up and chat? Spawn egg, around noon?

He set down the communicator and turned to go to bed, but to his surprise, it buzzed with an immediate reply.

<ZombieCleo> ZombieCleo whispered to you: everything alright?

<impulseSV> you whisper to ZombieCleo: yeah sure, I just |

Impulse stared at the blinking cursor for a moment, then backspaced and started again:

<impulseSV> you whisper to ZombieCleo: not really. but it’s nothing major. just want to chat a few things over with you.

<ZombieCleo> ZombieCleo whispered to you: Impulse it’s 3 in the morning. you wouldn’t be messaging if it wasn’t major. want to talk now?

He blinked. That… wasn’t the response he’d expected. He hesitated, finger hovering over the touch screen.

<impulseSV> you whisper to ZombieCleo: sure.

<ZombieCleo> ZombieCleo whispered to you: i'll come to you.

.

///

.

Impulse was waiting on the roof when Cleo arrived, swooping in with the dry rustle of elytra wings to land on the cobble-and-slabs rooftop.

He looked up at her with an automatic smile, but she didn’t even wait for a “hey” before plopping down beside him.

“Alright, Impulse,” she said, her brisk tone ordering, rather than inviting him to speak. “What’s going on?”

Pulling his knees into his chest, Impulse wrapped his arms around his legs, the cobblestone beneath him still radiating a bit of warmth from the day’s sun.

“I…” he let his voice trail off, not sure where to begin.

“Out with it.” Cleo held out her hand, palm up, as if waiting for him to drop something into it. “Spit it out. It’s not gonna get any better for stewing on it.”

This was a dumb idea. Impulse closed his eyes and, before he could talk himself out of it, let the words spill out in a rush:

“I keep having dreams. Nightmares. About being back… back there. At the Crastle, mainly. And, ah—” he chuckled nervously and opened his eyes, looking sideways at Cleo. “You and Bdubs are there. And you’re… mad. Yeah, you’re really mad. And you don’t trust me. And—" he took a deep breath. “I keep dreaming that you’re so mad you kill me.”

Cleo tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. “But we didn’t. Well,” she corrected herself. “I didn’t.”

“I know, I know—it’s stupid. It doesn’t make sense, and I know that, but…” he swallowed, and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I need to get it off my chest. Because even thought I know it’s not real, and I know this is an entirely different world, and I know that nothing from that server really changes anything, I can’t just… turn off what my brain does when I’m not paying attention to it. You guys are my friends and I’m getting real tired of feeling like I need to start running every time I see one of you. To be honest, sitting here right now even is making me antsy.”

Overhead, the stars continued on their paths in silence, and somewhere in the village a couple of sheep baa-ed at each other plaintively.

“Well. That’s… something. That’s certainly something, isn’t it.” Cleo was quiet for a moment, examining him. Impulse looked away, suddenly finding his fingernails deeply interesting.

“Impulse.”

She reached out and laid a hand on his arm, and he instinctively flinched away. Cleo raised both eyebrows at him this time, pulling her hand back—then deliberately replacing it, her fingers cool and firm through the thin fabric of his sleeve. “Impulse,” she repeated, her tone gentle but brooking no argument. “You… you know I’m not good at this stuff. But at the risk of getting in way over my pay-grade: we’re good. We’re your friends.” She gave him a shake. “We love you, you idiot. No amount of murdery games on another server gonna change that.”

Impulse gave a little laugh, pretending neither of them could hear the emotion that made his voice catch in his throat. “Wow, Cleo,” he said. “Love. Big word.”

“Bah.” She shoved him away, throwing her hands in the air. “I love everybody, you’re not special.” But there was a grin in her voice. “And anyway—why me? You’ve got a lotta nerve, Impulse, having nightmares about me killin’ you.”

“Hey, you were scary with that crossbow.”

“I was, wasn’t I.” Cleo sounded satisfied about that.

The knot in Impulse’s chest was slowly loosening, and he glanced over to see Cleo leaning back on her hands, staring up at the sky. The faintest tinge of pinkish-grey was starting to appear on the eastern horizon. The Boatem crew would be up and about soon—Grian in particular had a tendency to be up at an ungodly hour of the morning.

“Hey—” Impulse said, lowering his voice again. “Um. Thanks. For swinging by. Sorry for being weird about all this.”

“Impulse if you start apologizing for being weird you’re never going to stop.” She made a face at him. “Because you’re very weird.”

“Thaaaanks.”

Cleo gave him an easy punch on the shoulder. “You know you adore me,” she said. “And if it makes you feel any better, I can promise you this: I will kill you again at some point, I’m sure. And it’ll have nothing at all, whatsoever, to do with Third Life: it’ll be because you deserve it.” She paused. “Or because I just want to.”

Somehow, out of all the things she could have said, a casual threat of violence was the thing that did the trick. Impulse laughed—out loud, for real, a genuine laugh that shook loose the tension in his shoulders and chased away the phantom of Cleo standing over him with a crossbow.

“Thanks, Cleo.”

Cleo stood, and patted him on the head, ruffling up his hair. “There’s the obnoxiously-cheerful Impulse I know and loath,” she teased. “Can’t have you being all maudlin over here—I’m the gloomy one on this server.”

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Impulse asked, smoothing down his hair and also standing.

She waved a hand dismissively. “Nah. You know me—I don’t do the sleeping thing much. Too much work to do: graves to dig, bodies to—” she grinned darkly “—find. ‘S a lot for an entrepreneuring zombie like myself.”

“Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to it.” Impulse tried to stifle a yawn. He wasn’t entirely successful.

“Go to bed, Impulse,” Cleo laughed, activating her elytra. “And try to only have normal nightmares about me for a while. Ya know—ones where I’m properly zombie-terrifying, not this Crastle nonsense.”

“I’ll do my best.” He watched her fly off, and yawned again, this time wide enough to pop his jaw.

Alright. Let’s try this one more time. Sleep.

He left the roof and reentered his house, which suddenly felt much more cozy and far less empty and cold than it had when he’d first awakened. Sliding back under his blankets, he tugged them up around his ears and closed his eyes with a sigh.

Something exploded outside, and his eyes popped back open.

Maniacal laughter echoed over the hills of Boatem, and Impulse deliberately rolled over, burying his head under the pillow.

Tomorrow’s insanity would come soon enough. For now: sleep.

((sweet dreams, Impulse.))

#here have some impulse hc #as a treat. and because impy deserves it #redwinterwrites #sweet dreams #impulsesv #hermitcraft

[watchmegetobsessed]

I Hear A Symphony - Harry Styles

Extra blurb for Floating Through Space!

a/n: this idea came to me out of the blue and i suck at controling myself so i just had to write it! it’s an extra in the universe of FTS, just a little moment for our power couple in their life after the grammys!

the fic again contains an already existing song, credits to the artist, it’s going to be linked in the right place, make sure to listen to it when you see the vid!

pairing: Harry x Famous!Reader

word count: ~2k

masterlist

It’s been two weeks since the first time Harry told you he loved you. Fourteen entire days since the man you’ve been with these past three months told you he loved you, not just with his actions but with his words as well.

It happened so randomly, so out of the blue. You were at his place and following a long and dreading day the two of you decided to have a shower together. He asked if he could wash your hair and you enjoyed the way his fingers massaged your scalp, the intimacy of such a simple yet heartwarming moment ending the day on a wonderful note.

As the water was washing away the soap of your body he leaned down, captured your lips in a simple kiss before the words fell from his lips.

“I love you,” he said, his eyes searching for yours as first you looked down at the floor before your gaze meeting his, lips parted, heart pounding in your chest.

You wanted to say it back, it was on the tip of your tongue, but no word came out your mouth, a slight panic rushing through your senses from his confession. So you pulled him down and kissed him hard, hoping he can feel that you meant to say it, but you weren’t ready to actually form the words just yet.

It’s been eating you away for so long, because the feeling has been there for a long time, probably since the Grammy’s when the two of you sang your heart out in your duet, but your body is plotting against your mind, not letting you say it the way you want to. But you feel like the moment has come and being the dramatic artist that you are, you want it to be big. Because Harry deserves a grandiose romantic gesture.

You’ve been working on your new album for a while now, but needless to say that when you met Harry, you wrote quite a few songs about him that demanded place on your upcoming record, but so far you haven’t shown him any of them and you have a major reason for that.

The very first one you started writing about him turned out to be a massive song. Not because it has a full ballad as the lyrics, it barely have just a few verses. It’s because what started as just a simple melody for the piano soon turned into a monumental symphony with a full symphonic band and you decided to compose the entire melody, to all of the instruments yourself, because it was the only way the song would feel entirely yours. And Harry’s.

Recordings have been going on for weeks just for this one song, because you needed it to be absolutely perfect since it’s been in consideration to be the title of the album. Now the song is done and you are ready to show it to Harry and finally tell him how you really feel about him.

Sitting at your dining table you watch him type out an email to Jeff, eyebrows furrowed as he is still chewing on the last bit of his dinner. His unruly curls are covering his forehead and you smile to yourself as you reach over and push them back, making him glance up at you.

“What’s gotten you so smiley?” he asks, putting his phone away to turn all his attention to you.

“You,” you tell him, tilting your head to the side.

“Me? And why is that?” he smirks, grabbing your hand before you could pull it back and bringing it to his mouth he gently kisses your knuckles.

“What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?” you ask, ignoring his question.

“I’m guessing you are about to tell me,” he smirks, letting go of your hand so he can rest his chin in his palms. “What were you thinking about?”

“Would you like to come to my recording session?” Harry’s eyebrows shoot up from surprise, he surely wasn’t expecting this.

“You want me there?” He knows how you like to keep your works to yourself until you feel comfortable enough to show it to someone outside of your little team. You’ve only shared with him bits and bites of songs, nothing major, so this invitation is clearly a big deal for the both of you.

“Yes. I want… I have something to show you.”

He could tease you about finally showing him something, or crack a joke about being so into him that you wrote a song about him, but he doesn’t do anything of that sort. Instead, he just smiles back at you with so much adoration and love filling his eyes, it could make your chest burst. Leaning closer he kisses your lips softly before pecking the tip of your nose as well.

“Would love to join you.”

You hold onto Harry’s hand for dear life on your way to the studio where you’re going to have your final recording of the song. His song. A whole orchestra is going to be playing for you and while you’ve recorded the song in layers before, today you’re gonna perform it all together for the first time, every instrument playing at the same time as you sing. You really wanted to have a version of this sort, so you know what it’ll sound like when you perform it later with the prerecorded music.

You can tell that Harry is just as excited as you are, but he is keeping it bottled inside, not bugging you about what he is about to hear. He knows it’s going to be about him, you wouldn’t want to show him if it wasn’t.

When you pass by several studios and head to the grand room, the only place that fits the whole orchestra in it at the same time, Harry seems to be growing curious, but still doesn’t question anything, just follows you silently.

“Hello everyone!” you call out upon walking into the room, the majority of the band is already there, greeting you happily, especially when they see who you’re with. “Um, Harry is going to join us for the recording, hope it’s alright,” you announce with a nervous chuckle and you get a few knowing looks. Everyone in the room knows it’s about him, you’ve been an item publicly long enough and it’s not a hard task to put two and two together.

Harry waves around with a few short hellos and how are you’s as he takes a seat at the front of the room, facing the orchestra and essentially, you when you’ll be singing. You sit next to him and before the recording starts, you feel like you owe a few words for him.

“I’ve been working on this song for… the longest, because it started with just a piano, but then I kept adding more and more until it grew into a whole orchestra,” you admit chuckling and it brings a smirk to his lips as well, his dimples digging into his cheeks. Then you take a deep breath and try to calm your nerves for the next part you’re about to tell him. “Two weeks ago you… told me you loved me and… I’m sorry for never saying it back…”

“I didn’t expect you to,” he speaks up softly. “I didn’t say it to hear you say it back. I know it takes you a lot to figure out your feelings, Y/N.”

“But I have them figured out,” you reply. “I just…” You take a deep breath, feeling yourself getting emotional already. “This song is the first one I wrote about you.”

“The first? So there’s more?” he asks with a small smirk.

“Of course,” you admit chuckling. “But this one… is the most important one. So I want you to hear it.”

Harry nods and doesn’t question you about never finishing your trail of thoughts about your feelings. He just lets you do your thing knowing that it’ll become a whole sooner or later.

Leaning in you kiss him shortly before you stand up and join all the incredible musicians and get ready for the recording. Harry gets a headset so he can hear everything clearly and when everyone is settled, the recording starts. The song kicks out with you singing acapella.

“I used to hear a simple song, that was until you came along. Now in its place is something new, I hear it when I look at you.”

Then the piano starts playing and eventually the violins join softly before you start singing the second verse, making the melody flow perfectly. You keep your eyes off of Harry, but you can feel his intense stare on you as he listens.

“With simple songs, I wanted more, perfection is so quick to bore. You are my beautiful, by far our flaws are who we really are."

The piano and the violins continue playing, getting more and more dynamic with each played note and you feel a shudder run down your spine. The whole song starts to grow as the wind instruments join in, slowly pulling the melody up to its peek that’s about to come soon. And then it happens. Your eyes find Harry’s when you start to sing the next verse, the whole orchestra playing behind you at its fullest.

“I used to hear a simple song, that was until you came along. You took my broken melody and now I hear a symphony…”

The melody continues as you add some vocals, singing your whole heart and soul out, your eyes still set on Harry before suddenly, the instruments cut out and you sing your last line with just the piano playing the last few chords along with you.

“And now I hear a symphony.”

The room grows quiet and your chest is heaving, vision blurry as you couldn’t stop yourself from tearing up. Your emotions washed over you, sweeping you off your feet and now your bare soul is lying in front of Harry’s feet who is still staring at you frozen.

At first you panic at his lack of reaction, but then you see him wipe his eyes and you realize he is crying. Just as you step off the podium and head in his way, he takes his headset off and starts walking in your way and the whole orchestra start cheering and clapping when he envelopes you in his arms, holding you so tight you can barely breathe. You laugh through your tears when he lifts you up and twirls you around in the air before setting you back down and kissing you all over your face, wherever he reaches you. Cupping his face in your hands you pull back a little so you can look into his glistening eyes.

“I love you,” you finally tell him with shaky lips, a weight finally falling off your shoulders and chest now that you’ve said it.

“Oh baby, I love you too,” he smiles, before pulling you in for a kiss that’s soaked by your tears, but by far the sweetest you’ve shared. “I love you so much,” he mumbles against your lips.

“What do you think about the song?” you ask finally pulling away, wiping your tears off your cheeks, not even caring that there is a whole orchestra watching the two of you interact.

“I’m pretty sure this is what they play when you enter Heaven,” he chuckles making you laugh as you smack his chest playfully. “No, but really. It’s brilliant. I’ve never heard anything like this. And having you sing it live for me with the whole orchestra… My mind is blown, baby. It’s going to be hard to top it with anything,” he adds chuckling.

“That was my plan all along,” you admit with a laugh before you pull him down for another kiss.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #floating through space #harry styles fluff

[allisondraste]

Cockroaches and Other Things That Just Keep On Living

Fandom: Mass Effect

Ship: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian

Word Count: 4019

Summary: It's only been two weeks since the Reaper War ended, and the Alliance is already trying to bury Shepard.

[Click Here for A03]

Two weeks.  It had only been two weeks since the war ended, since that devastating flash of red light burst from the Citadel and bounced off every active relay in the galaxy, since the Reapers fell dead in space and the Normandy crash landed on some tropical little human colony world just on the edge of the Terminus Systems.  It had just been two weeks, but the Alliance and the rest of the whole damn galaxy were already willing to declare Shepard dead.  And to add insult to injury, they’d  given Garrus the great honor and privilege of hanging her name up on a memorial wall in some trite ceremony to make the crew feel better.

“There isn’t anyone who could’ve been at the epicenter of that blast and survived,” Hackett had explained, far too matter-of-factly. “It’s time for us to move forward.”

“Shepard isn’t just anyone,” Garrus had replied, and then promptly told the admiral where to shove his plaque. It was not his finest moment.

Now, he sat in the mess hall, alone and staring down at the dextro-amino rations he’d barely touched. The bastardized version of some overly seasoned human dish would have been unappetizing even if he had an appetite. But he didn’t.  Something about the person he loved being declared dead left a sour taste in his mouth.  He’d only even tried to eat because Liara insisted, and he wasn’t in the mood for another well meant lecture about taking care of himself.

No longer willing to bother, he shoved the plate away from him with the back of his hand, and looked up in just enough time to catch Williams walk past him.  She stopped, performed a proper about-face and marched up to his table.

“Hey,” Ash greeted him like she’d never spoken to him before in her life.

“Hey,” Garrus replied and watched as she shifted uncomfortably and darted her eyes around the entire room before meeting his gaze.

She motioned to an empty seat across the table from him. “Can I— I mean, do you want some company? You just look—”

“Like I’m one news vid about the ‘late’ Commander Shepard away from going postal?” He let out a derisive snort. “Yeah.”

Williams smirked and  eased herself down onto the bench without waiting for him to agree to her company. “I was going to say ‘like shit,’ but that works too.”

He answered her dryly. “Gee. Thanks.”

There was a pause in conversation, then Ash tilted her head in that sympathetic way every human who knew him seemed to do since Earth. “Seriously though… how are you holding up?”

I’m not , Garrus thought, but the words didn’t make it to his mouth, just sarcasm.. “Didn’t realize you cared… or is this just one of those human things where you pretend to care for my benefit?”

She leaned back and raised an eyebrow. “Do I seem like the kind of person who pretends to do anything for anyone’s benefit, especially yours?”

He laughed. “Fair.”

“Listen, this is off the record but… Hackett had that mouthful coming.” She laughed and shook her head. “I’m just glad it was you that said it and not me because, well, I like my job.”

If anyone had told Garrus that one day, he’d have a heart-to-heart with the human woman who’d spent their entire first mission together shooting daggers at him from across Normandy’s shuttle bay, he’d have said they were crazy.  But there they were, raw from the absence of someone who meant so much to the both of them.

“It’s been two weeks,” he muttered, looking down at his hands. “ Two. They haven’t even found her bod—“ he tried and failed to choke back the lump in his throat,  but continued talking anyway, glancing up at her— “It’s too damn soon, Ash.”

“I know,” came her firm reply as she reached across the table.  She hesitated for a split second, but then let her hand fall on top of his.  Deep brown eyes welled up with tears that she tried to blink away.  She let out a frustrated huff as one rolled down her cheek anyway, then cleared her throat.  “ Damn. Pretend this isn’t happening.” “Pretend what isn’t happening, Williams?”

“Perfect,” she remarked, wiping her face with the heel of her free hand and laughing. “Kind of hard to believe it’s only been three years since we tracked down Saren.  Feels like a lifetime ago.”

“And look at us now, being mostly civil,” he said with a sigh, staring down at Ash’s hand.  Alien as it was, it reminded him of Shepard’s, strong to be as small as it was, with too many fingers.  He recalled the many times those fingers had traced the hard edges of his face, how that hand had fit so comfortably into his (after a few clumsy attempts, of course).  He’d take another missile to the face to hold it again.

“You know, Shepard worked her ass off to convince me it’d be fine having aliens on board an Alliance vessel,” Ash observed playfully, pulling him from his thoughts.

“You? Paranoid over a handful of non-humans? I’m shocked .”

“Nothing personal,” she explained,“Just didn’t feel comfortable sharing a station with a guy whose grandpa probably shot at mine during the War.”

“Hate to break it to you but—” he leaned back in his seat— “My grandfather was just a run of the mill C-Sec officer.  All he would have done was write your grandfather a nasty citation. ‘Being human in Citadel space,’ used to be a finable offense.”

“God,” she said with another laugh, “Back then, I rolled my eyes and told Shepard I’d do whatever she wanted me to do. ‘You tell me to jump, I ask how high.  You tell me to kiss a turian, I’ll ask which cheek.’”

“We don’t really have cheeks,” Garrus corrected, laughing when Ash shot him a pointed look, “But that’s beside the point.  I’m guessing Shepard never followed through with that order.”

“No, she told me, and I quote, ‘Nobody’s going to be kissing any turians on this mission, Ash,’” she said in her best Shepard impression, then muttered, “Fucking liar.”

“Well, to her credit, I don’t think she planned on me being so… irresistable.”

Ash snorted and rolled her eyes. “Okay, ladykiller .”

There was another pause in conversation, and her expression fell.  She looked down to where her hand still lay on his. “Back then, I just assumed you’d jump ship as soon as things got rocky, as soon as we— as Shepard — really needed you, but…” She trailed off, grip tightening around his hand.  “You never let her down, not once.  Not even when I—”

“You didn’t let her down, Ash,” he argued, sensing where she was headed, “She never thought that.”

“Yeah, well I do,” she snapped, words clipped, “I should have seen the signs that Cerberus had her pinned down, but I let my ego get in the way.  I’m surprised she wanted anything to do with me after that.”

“You’re not the only one who has ever screwed up trying to do the right thing,” he reassured her, “Shepard, of all people, understood that.”

“That’s… you’re probably right,” she nodded and looked up at him, “Thanks. And for whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Uh, sorry for what?”

“For ever believing you weren’t an important part of the crew,” she stated seriously, then smiled, “And for calling you birdbrain  behind your back.”

Garrus’ mandibles flared in amusement, and he gave her hand a few friendly pats. “No harm done,” he said, then paused for a beat, “Besides, you didn’t hear what I said behind your back.”

One of her eyebrows shot up. “You talked shit about me?”

“So much.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute,” shouted a familiar voice from across the mess, causing them both to snap their heads toward the sound. “Somebody get this heartwarming moment on camera.”

Ash stiffened, retracting her hand quickly and stuffing it under the table. “Joker.”

“Hey, Joker.” Garrus waved. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” he answered, words pointed. “You know, aside from the soul-crushing agony of my girlfriend dying. ”

Garrus had spent enough time around humans to know that the Flight Lieutenant looked rough, even for someone who’d never cared about keeping up appearances.  His eyes were red, the skin underneath dark enough that even the shadow cast from his hat couldn’t disguise the lack of sleep. He made his way unsteadily to the table and sat down next to Williams.

Garrus opened his mouth, preparing to speak, to express sympathy, but Joker cut him off. “And before you start with any of that ‘I understand how you feel’ crap— no you don’t.  Everyone knows you can’t say Shepard’s dead until we’ve ID’d the body.  Maybe not even then. She just keeps living… like a cockroach. ”

“You know you could just say, ‘I’m not doing so hot,” right?” Ash scolded him,  but there was still a softness to her voice. “You don’t have to be an ass about it.”

“Yeah, but see… being an ass is way more my style.”

The table went completely quiet as Joker crossed his arms over his chest and scowled, tension palpable enough it might as well have had mass.  Not one for tolerating awkward silences, Garrus ventured a question. “What the hell is a cockroach?”

Ash smiled, clearly thankful for the change in subject, and began to explain. “They’re these—“

“ Beetles ,” Joker cut her off, “Big, disgusting ones that are supposed to be able to survive extreme conditions other organics can’t.”

“Sounds about right,” Garrus admitted with a shrug.

The pilot flinched and glared at him. “Wait. I called Shepard a disgusting beetle and you’re just okay with that?”

“Are you kidding? Why wouldn’t I be,” he asked sarcastically, “It actually explains why she kept molting. ”

“You’re having fun. Stop it,” Joker whined, scowl deepening, “Stop having fun!”

Garrus laughed and threw his hands up in surrender. “This isn’t exactly my idea of fun. My cockroach is missing.”

Joking though he was, his words were honest, something Joker must have detected.  His expression softened even as he puffed his chest out. He deflated immediately as another familiar voice called out, likely interrupting whatever barrage of barbs he’d prepared to hurl at Garrus. This time, it was Vega who strutted over to the table carrying an entire fifth of some sort of human liquor.  Cortez trailed solemnly behind him, examining the rectangular objects in his hands.

“Yo, don’t tell me the party started without us,” shouted Vega, setting the alcohol down on the table with a loud clank , pointing a thumb back at Cortez, “Esteban here took forever polishing the name plaques.”

Garrus stiffened at the mention of the plaques, knowing full and well there had been one commissioned with Shepard’s name on it despite all his protests. Turned out, the Alliance brass didn’t give a damn about some loud mouth former C-Sec officer or his feelings after all. He just hoped none of the humans were able to read the pain in his expression— a hope that was in vain if the sympathetic glance Cortez gave him was any indication.

“What’s that for?” Ashley pointed to the bottle of amber liquid Vega sat on the table.

“What do you think,” Vega asked, as if his intentions should have been completely clear, “I’m going to pour one out for the commander.”

“All over the Normandy's floor?” She raised her brows at him.

“Nah.” He gave her a dismissive wave. “Just down the sink or somethin’.”

She picked the bottle up and examined the label more closely. “But…this is expensive stuff, James.”

“Don’t care,” came Vega’s indignant response, “It’s for Lola.”

Ashley gave him a solemn nod, seeming to understand whatever peculiar human tradition he was planning to perform. Satisfied, Vega turned his attention to Joker, snagging his cap, flipping it around, and placing it down on his head backwards. Joker cursed and grumbled, calling Vega a bully among other things, but Vega just smiled and walked over to Garrus, giving him a supportive clap on the shoulder.

Slowly, the rest of the crew began to filter in, each with their own expressions of concern.  Traynor and Tali arrived together, deep in conversation if the emphatic hand gestures were any indication.  They both quieted as they arrived at the table, Traynor frowning and bowing her head, whileTali approached and slid comfortably  into the seat next to Garrus.

She looked down at the uneaten food and back up at him, giving him a nudge with her elbow and complaining. “You are wasting all of the good dextro rations.”

“Good? Oh, come on,  we both know it’s garbage.”

“Well… yes, but it’s digestible garbage,” she said, holding a finger up to make her point.  Her voice softened when she continued. “And you’ve hardly eaten anything the past few days.”

He sighed and looked down at the rations. “Yeah.”

Tali observed him for a second, eyes glowing behind her helmet. She then grabbed his plate and slid it toward him. “Eat up, Vakarian. Or else I will have to feed you myself… with a spoon I am pretending is the Normandy.”

Garrus let out a laugh despite himself. “I don’t think that’ll work, Tali.”

“You don’t know that.  You haven’t heard my engine noises.”  She laughed along with him for a few seconds, then grew quiet once again and gave him a gentle pat on the back. “The Alliance is going to feel very silly when Shepard gets back and they have to explain why they hung her name up on the wall and sold her hamster.”

“ If she makes it back this time.”

“She will,” Tali asserted, voice cracking, “She has to.”

It was Javik who entered next, voice booming in a debate with Liara, who had taken it upon herself to explain human customs for memorializing the dead. He shook his head and ignored her entirely, stating that if he wished for a history lesson, he would ask for one.  He then snapped his many-eyed gaze to Garrus.

“You should not be saddened about Shepard’s fate, Garrus.  She died with great honor.”

Liara let out an exasperated sigh, and sat down in one of the empty seats at the next table over, bringing her hand to her face.

“What is it, asari?” Javik snapped, “Honor in death is something turians hold in high regard, is it not? This should be a great comfort to him.”

“Perhaps with time,” Liara explained,”But right now it is… insensitive.”

“It’s nothing my dad hasn’t already told me a dozen times,” Garrus stated flatly, “I appreciate the sentiment.”

Weird that a fifty-thousand year-old Prothean reminded him of his dad.  Then again, Castis Vakarian was as about as traditional as turians came, and they butted heads on almost every subject, including but not limited to: Garrus’ disregard for rules, his decision to leave C-Sec—twice, his “risk- and attention-seeking” behavior, and his “absurd infatuation with a human woman”. Their relationship had always been strained, to say the least. Still, he had always been there when Garrus needed him, and listened when it mattered. He was the first call Garrus made from the medbay after the Reapers were destroyed, when he realized Shepard might not be coming back.

He’d been sympathetic, but not even remotely comforting, not unlike Javik was at present. Garrus just didn’t have it in him to explain to either how little he cared about the honorable nature of her sacrifice, the high esteem the galaxy now held her in, or the way history would remember her. None of that mattered when she wasn’t at his side.  How could he be proud, when all he felt was empty?

Once all parties arrived and settled in, the group spent time talking and sharing memories. The Alliance crew members all told stories about encounters with Admiral Anderson, how he more often felt like a parent than a commanding officer, and how his reputation was so much larger than his ego. Traynor did most of the talking about EDI, their friendship, and how seamlessly she’d fit into the crew, how easy it had been to forget she was an AI. Joker just pulled the bill of his cap down to cover his eyes.  Then, the reminiscence moved to the commander.

Every single person present had a story about Shepard, about how she went above and beyond the call of duty to help them, and to make sure they were taken care of while aboard the Normandy.  Shepard had always taken time to check in with the people who worked for her, even when the galaxy was falling apart and herself along with it.  She was a good leader, arguably the best, and an even better friend.  It was clear that everyone in the room admired her, and that she was missed.

Garrus knew he should say something, tell one of the many stories of the trouble he and Shepard had gotten into together. The others all watched him expectantly as he scrambled for words.

“I—“ he began, but was interrupted by the buzzing of his omni-tool, followed by several bright flashes of light. He cursed and pulled up the interface to silence the damn thing.  An urgent message alert flashed on his screen, and he tapped the icon to open it.

From: Dr. Chloe Michel

Subject: Jane Doe

Dear Garrus,

I hope this email reaches you, and that you are still alive to read it.  I am on the Citadel working with an emergency medical unit out of what is left of  Huerta Memorial. The blast from the Crucible caused some severe structural damage near the epicenter, and we have been searching the area to find and identify survivors and remains.

There is a Jane Doe here, who I believe you might know. Please contact me on a private channel whenever you are able.

Take Care,

Chloe

His heart sank like lead into his gut as he read what could only be a request to come in and identify a corpse.  The space around him was suddenly too full, too loud, and the curious eyes of his companions lingered on him for far longer than comfortable. He tapped the display on his omni-tool once again to close it, glancing around the room from one set of eyes to another.

“It’s nothing,” he lied. The truth would only cause unnecessary alarm he wasn’t equipped to handle at the moment.  He stood abruptly, a jolt of pain coursing through his leg that was still recovering from a fracture, and excused himself. “Just need to make a quick call.”

“Now,” Liara asked, frowning, “But the memorial ceremony was just about to begin.”

“So start without me,” he snapped and made his way to the main battery.  He’d apologize later, when his world wasn’t caving in.

The battery doors shut behind him with a familiar hiss and he sank down into his seat next to the workbench where his favorite rifle lay surrounded by tools and unused thermal clips. It had taken a beating in the battle on Earth, and Garrus had poured over repairing it in the days following its end.  He hadn’t touched it since.  There were no more enemies to fight, and the gun just reminded him of Shepard.

Bringing up his omni-tool once again, Garrus established a link using the information Michel provided him.  He only waited a second or two before a voice on the other end picked up.

“Garrus,” exclaimed the woman, “I am so glad you received my message.”

“About that Jane Doe,” he began, cutting straight to the chase, “I— do you need me to identify the b— her ?”

“No… it is Commander Shepard,” she explained, “I am absolutely certain.”

“ Oh, ” Garrus said with the breath he’d been holding.  He was glad he was already sitting down, as the last shreds of hope he’d been clinging to slipped from his grasp leaving him dizzy and sick.  It was Shepard.  She was dead. There was nothing to be done about it.

He took a minute to collect himself and his thoughts, cleared his throat and told the doctor, “I, uh…I’m not really sure how to— I mean, I guess I should make funeral arrangements. That’d be better than letting the Alliance—“

“Garrus,” Michel interjected firmly, “She’s alive.”

“ What,” he asked, more loudly than he’d intended.  Hoping nobody had overheard outside, he lowered his voice and continued, “I mean, how is she? What’s her condition? Is she going to—”

“I won’t lie to you,” the doctor interrupted again, “Her injuries are serious, and she has been comatose since we found her.  Still, her vitals are strong and stable at present. She is a fighter.”

“She is.”

The line was silent for a beat then Michel spoke up again.  “I had a wonder… Shepard’s body has, ehm… extensive cybernetic modification. More extensive than I have seen. We are not certain how, or if it is even possible to repair all of the damage.”

One name came immediately to mind. “Miranda Lawson.”

“Pardon?”

“You need to contact Miranda Lawson,” Garrus clarified,  “She is an ex-Cerberus operative, the scientist responsible for Shepard’s upgrades. And a friend. She will be able to help. I can send you her contact information.”

“Good, yes. I will contact her immediately,” Michel replied, relief noticeable in her voice. She then sighed and said, “I apologize for sending such a vague email.  I am realizing now that it was likely… anxiety provoking. I simply did not wish for the wrong people to find out about Shepard’s survival.”

Garrus huffed, “Yeah, if the media caught wind of this, it’d be a circus.”

“That is what I feared,” she agreed with a sigh, “Besides, I thought you should be the first to see her. I know she is important to you.”

“Thank you, doc. For everything.”

“It is the very least I can do.  I owe my life to the both of you. Twice over, now it would seem:”

“I’ll get to the Citadel as soon as I can.”

“Talk to you then.”

The call ended with a beep and Garrus shut off his omni-tool display, staring blankly at the wall on the opposite side of the room for several minutes, attempting to recover from the emotional whiplash the last half hour had given him.  He took a deep breath, rose to his feet, and headed back out to the mess hall.

All eyes turned to him as he made his way toward the memorial wall just outside the elevator.  EDI’s and Anderson’s names had already been placed, tears already shed. Now they looked to Garrus, Cortez approaching with the name plaque meant to commemorate Shepard’s death. He took the polished silver plate and examined it, light glinting off its corners as he stepped up to the wall.  For a long moment he traced the letters of a name that had come to mean so much to him, to those crowded in the narrow hallway around him, to the hundreds of thousands who’d cheered from ships in the massive fleet she’d rallied and led to victory, and to the billions of lives she’d saved across the galaxy.  Shepard deserved so much more than a name on a wall.

And now, just maybe, she could have it.

Garrus would have preferred to keep  Shepard’s survival to himself, to snag her from the hospital and elope to some secluded tropical paradise where nobody could ask anything of either of them again, except “Would you like a refill on that incredibly alcoholic beverage?” But he knew he couldn’t do that.  After all, he was not the only one who loved her.

Lowering the plaque, he turned to face the others, all of whom looked at him with a mix of confusion and concern.  He glanced down at Shepard’s name again, mandibles flaring out reflexively as relief and excitement swelled in his chest.

“They found her.  They found Shepard,” he told them, bringing his eyes to meet their gazes as he spoke. “She’s alive.”

#mass effect #mass effect legendary edition #garrus vakarian #shakarian #ashley williams #tali'zorah #fanfic #my writing

[plant-flwrs]

the teenage girl at 12 grimmauld place

masterlist!

a/n: this is the first little fic i’ve written with sirius and lupin, and even though its not really romantic or anything, i still really like it! i have been seeing vids about the order meetings w music playing from upstairs and i couldn’t get the idea out of my head. i’m sorry for my absence, too! i’ve been in a bit of a rut when it comes to my brain producing any sort of intellect, so i’m hoping this kind of knocked things loose. i’ll be getting back to requests soon though!

summary: Sirius has an overdramatic daughter who can’t help but interrupt The Order’s meeting.

(1.2k)

-------

It had been a rough week at the Black house. Heartbreak fell hard on one specific person in the home.

You had been dating a muggle boy down the street for a few months, nothing serious, but you had grown to like him a considerable amount. It was with a heavy heart that he broke up with you, saying he just couldn’t stand to make you go long-distance when he moved in a couple of months.

You knew that the long table downstairs was very much occupied. You knew it was serious business down there. You also knew you couldn’t deprive yourself of a laugh at a hard time like this.

Your father, Sirius as most of the people downstairs called him, couldn’t bring himself to be angry. You had, after all, inherited your dramatic flare from him. 

You shamelessly turned up the dulcet tones of the music coming from your massive speaker. You had moved it from the shelf it sat on to the center of your floor, just so the vibrations shook the house a little more violently. You were surprised your father hadn’t put a silencing charm on your room, but found yourself very grateful that he hadn’t. 

“Is she alright?” Lupin inquired, raising a concerned eyebrow at Sirius.

“Oh,” he groaned, leaning back in his chair and lulling his head to stare at the ceiling above him, “she’s fine.”

His eyes came back to the filled table in front of him, meeting the questioning looks on everyone’s faces.

“The muggle boy she had been seeing broke up with her. She’s just being dramatic,” Sirius continued, to which understanding looks fell upon the adult Weasley’s faces.

“Poor thing,” Molly cooed, nursing a cup of tea in her restless hands.

“She’ll be alright,” Sirius said, shifting awkwardly in his seat, “don’t mind her.”

“I reckon she was too good for him anyways,” Lupin said, smiling proudly at Sirius.

Sirius nodded his head fondly, enjoying the praise of his daughter. You were too good for that muggle boy, he could barely keep up with you half the time. Quite daft, Sirius always thought of him.

Just as one song ended, the vibrations of the house stilling, the conversation found it’s opportunity to start again. Arthur, with deep worry lines and tired eyes, began to update The Order.

He barely managed a word, however, when the next song started in full force. This time, the pounding of your moving feet caused the light hanging from the ceiling to move slightly. Sirius groaned, putting his head in his hand.

“Dear god,” your father mumbled.

“I could go check on her?” Harry offered, willing to do anything to allow the pressing conversation to continue.

You and Harry were friendly, but as he walked up the old and creaky stairs, he regretted offering to come. He didn’t know what he was going to say, he had no idea how to console a heartbroken girl.

As he got closer to your door, the music and pounding of your feet got louder and less muffled. 

He knocked on the door, and knocked again when the first time was entirely too quiet to be heard over the loud music.

Harry heard the music stop, and your tentative feet padding towards the door.

You opened it slowly, and Harry saw your puffy eyes, red nose, and the heavy blanket wrapped around your shoulders. You were out of breathe from all the dancing, and your hair was sticking up in odd places where it had escaped its rightful places.

“Hey,” Harry said weakly, waiting for your to open the door wider.

“Oh,” you said, opening the door and relieved to not see your pissed off father coming to tell you to turn your music off, “hi, Harry. Meeting over?”

“No, not yet,” Harry paused, furrowing his brows, “are you alright?”

You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, “I suppose I will be.”

Harry looked at the floor awkwardly, not knowing how to comfort you. The two of you stood in silence for a moment.

“Do you want me to get your dad, or something?” Harry asked, already turning around and starting down the stairs.

You shook your head no, “No, thats alright.”

You moved past Harry, closing the door behind you. You walked down the stairs, and Harry had to wait for a second to follow you so he wouldn’t step on the blanket that trailed behind you.

In the better lighting of the hallway, Harry could see the black makeup smudged on your eyes. He winced in pity, his eyes squinting a little from behind his glasses.

You shuffle into the kitchen, and everyone’s eyes are on you. They couldn’t resist, but at least they pretended they weren’t looking. You moved slowly to the freezer and adjusted the blanket on your arms. You stood in the freezer, feeling the nice frost on your face. You heard Harry sit back down, and you knew Sirius was asking silent questions with his facial expressions. You also knew Harry was just shrugging his shoulders because he didn’t know the answers to Sirius’s unspoken questions.

“Alright there, Y/n?” you heard Remus ask, snapping you out of the daze the freezer had put you in.

You finally pull out the ice cream you had come to retrieve, and meet Lupin’s kind smile. You nod to him. You look at your father to see him stifling laughter at the mascara smudged on your eyes, and you glare at him, which only makes him laugh harder.

Everyone had gravitated towards one end of the table, leaving the other end empty. You sat at the head of the table, as your father sat at the other end. You glared at him some more as you shoveled ice cream in your mouth.

The silence in the room was not missed on your part. You watched everyone’s eyes downcast at the table. No one wanted to tell you to leave, but they had important things to discuss. Sirius had never wanted you at the meetings, said you ought to leave that stuff to him. 

“I liked the music you were playing!” Tonks said cheerfully, giving you a friendly smile.

“Oh,” you feigned surprise, “you guys could hear that?”

You knew they could hear it. Sirius was always yelling from the kitchen in the mornings to “turn that ruckus down!” as he tried to peacefully drink his morning tea. You never turned the ruckus down.

Your father sighed loudly and rolled his eyes, “Our meetings not over yet, darling.”

You stand slowly, wrapping the blanket tighter around you.

“My apologies. Wouldn’t want to interrupt your important work with my incurable heartbreak,” you retort sarcastically, gripping the ice cream tub and spoon in one hand.

Harry suppresses a chuckle, and Ron and Hermione have a baffled smile on their faces. Fred lets out a surprised laugh, earning a elbow to the ribcage from George. The twins were barely allowed in the meeting, and George didn’t want anyone to remember they were there and change their mind about letting them in.

Sirius stood too, meeting you in the entry way of the room. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him. He removed his arm and put his calloused hands on your cheeks, bringing your tear stained faced closer to his. He leaned forward and kissed your forehead. 

“Bring that down when your done. I don’t want ants in this house,” he said, pointing at the ice cream.

“Okay, dad,” you groan, setting off to march back up the stairs and play your music even louder.

#sirius #sirius black #sirius black dad #grimmauld place #12 grimmauld place #domestic sirius black #sirius's daughter

[jean-kayak]

Anon Request: Y’know the “What’s good shawty, yo man still around?” vid on TikTok? Welp, rather than it be a prank, let’s have Y/N actually get hit on in the middle of her zoom class by some random classmate. Sis is open and happy with her relationship, so this scum thought he had a chance since he didn’t notice her bf was in the room with her and could hear him! Before Y/N could reject him or cuss him out, her man’s is already front and center talking to the pissant. Since I woke up and chose violence: Let’s have Iwaizumi, Atsumu, Daichi, and Kuroo react to this 🌚

A/N: lmfao anon this made me laugh, hope you like it!

Warnings: Atsumu’s and Kuroo’s is a little nsfw LMAO

Tags: @iwascrybaby​, @mxhriii​, @her-majesty-kiara

💪You were in a breakout room, but the other two people weren't even helping you do the work, which you just shrugged off bc you knew how to do it

💪But you did wish that the other guy in your breakout room wasn't helping you, in fact, you wished that he would just leave the call

💪He wasn't even trying to be slick with his flirting, and it was so annoying considering you were already taken

💪You had already told him that you were taken and really happy with your relationship, but ofc he just took that as a challenge

💪Iwaizumi just happen to walk in the room, not really paying attention to you, focused on finding something he was looking for

💪"So, you still happy with your boyfriend?"

💪That makes him freeze, and then he's looking over at you, who hadn't even noticed him come in

💪He walks over to you, leaning down next to you, and you jump slightly. "And you are?"

💪The guy freezes, shock written on his face, and Iwaizumi raises his eyebrows waiting for an answer

💪He stutters over his words, and he cuts him off. "You think you're being slick by flirting with my girlfriend?"

💪"Listen, man, I was just--

💪"I hear you say some shit like that again, I'll find you."

💪The guy doesn't even turn his camera on anymore lmao

💪And you're a little embarrassed, and the guy doesn't even talk to you anymore, only hesitantly asking you if you know the answer

🏐Your professor had assigned partners for a project that you had to do, and you've been working on it for about a week and had got nothing done

💪Sometimes he won't even speak 💀

💪And Iwaizumi is always there in the background every time you have that class, making sure he doesn't say anything again lmao

🏐Even though you told him that you both really needed to get this project done, and that you had a boyfriend, and yes you were very happy

🏐The guy you were partnered with made it his main mission to try and flirt with you every minute of your meeting

🏐You were beyond frustrated, and the day you were about to say something was the day that Atsumu walked in while you were on the call

🏐"Hey, baby, have ya seen my shoes? I can't find them anywhere."

🏐"Don't tell me that's the infamous boyfriend."

🏐Atsumi freezes for a split second before he scoffs, and then he's calmly walking over to your desk, but you know that he's fuming on the inside

🏐"So, you're the only messing with ma girl, eh?"

🏐The guy shrugs, egging him on. "Yeah, and what're you gonna do about it?"

🏐He huffs as he leans down so that he can look at him. "Well, I could fuck her right in front of you, show ya how well I do it."

🏐"Atsumu."

🏐"What? Sounds like he needs to see who's name yer screaming every night."

🏐Before he can say anything, Atsumu's gripping the hair at the base of your neck, yanking your head up before meeting your lips in the filthiest kiss, and you can't help but let out a moan

🏐He pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your lips before he turns to look at the guy

🏅Your lab was broken up into different groups, but your TA wasn't getting the groups right

🏐"Ya got somethin' to say now?"

🏐Will make you sit on his lap the entire time you're on the call (then after he'll make sure that you're screaming his name for the rest of the night)

🏅And it just so happens that the guy who's in the wrong group is heavily flirting with you

🏅This means that sometimes there were people who were in the wrong group

🏅You're trying to talk to the two other people in your group, and you can tell that it's making them uncomfortable, but he doesn't seem to care

🏅You try to ignore it, but it's getting bolder and bolder

🏅What he didn't know was that Daichi heard it all

🏅He gets up from the bed before walking over and wrapping his arms around you

🏅"This guy bothering you?" he says, looking from you to the screen

🏅You watch the two other people covering their laughs as they try to focus their attention on something else while muting themselves

🏅"This conversation doesn't sound at all like," he looks down at the paper you're working on. "Cell respiration."

🏅Now you're smiling along with your other classmates, biting your lip to try and stifle your laugh

🏅And the guy tries to recoil. "Look, I'm just trying to make simple conversation."

🏅Daichi chuckles as he unwraps his arms from around you, moving so that he's leaning them on the desk

🧪You had decided to join your class early because you had tended to forget

🏅"Let me make something simple then. Keep flirting with my girlfriend, and I'll find you on campus. Simple enough?"

🏅After that, the guy makes sure he's sent to the right group

🧪And you had your camera on, but you didn't really pay any attention to it, focused on your phone, so you didn't notice that someone else joined

🧪Of course, you had the time wrong, so you were in there about fifteen minutes early

🧪"If I had known there were really pretty girls in this class, I would've been on time."

🧪You look up from your phone, and you see that you both are the only ones in the class, and you can see Kuroo lift his head off the bed as you give the guy an awkward smile

🧪He keeps it up, and it's pretty obvious that you're taken, Kuroo's name dangling around your neck

🧪"Kuroo? Is that your brother or something?"

🧪Kuroo sighs as he gets up, moving you out of the chair so that he can sit down

🧪"That's a good joke, man," he says, crossing his arms as he leans back in the seat

🧪The guy chuckles. "Don't tell me this is him."

🧪"Don't tell me you're flirting with my girl," he counters. "Don't think I can't figure out where you are right now," he says, pulling out his phone

🧪"Hey, man, relax. I was just being nice."

🧪Kuroo scoffs. "Keep being nice and see where that gets you."

🧪Kuroo pulls you into his lap, his fingers instantly moving into your shorts, luckily out of the camera's view, but you can't help but bury your face in his neck

🧪The guy's eyes widen when he sees what he's doing and Kuroo smirks

🧪"Say something "nice" to her one more time. I dare you."

#kuroo headcanons #atsumu headcanons #daichi headcanons #iwaizumi headcanons #kuroo tetsurou #daichi sawamura #iwaizumi hajime #miya atsumu #haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu headcanons #hq!! headcanons #hq headcanons

[waywardodysseys]

Finders Keepers - Oneshot

gif by @rainbowkisses31​

Pairing: Chris Evans x female reader

Warnings: fluff, SMUT, oral receiving (m & f), unprotected sex (wrap it up), beard burn, cussing

~   ~   ~

The smell of tomato, basil, oregano, and garlic fill the expansive kitchen as you stir the homemade sauce for the made from scratch meatballs you made earlier in the day. Being stuck in quarantine had made your inner Julia Child explode. It didn’t help your boyfriend encouraged you to cook more often especially when he loved devouring the homemade meals you made for him when he returned from being away from work for long periods of time, walking the halls of D.C., or stuck doing press tours for upcoming projects.

A happy bark and the click clack of toenails against the hardwood floor break through the quietness. You turn and look towards the living room. Chris is walking towards you in jeans and a red-black flannel shirt. You can’t help but smile and shake your head.

“What?” Comes Chris’ snarky yet kind remark as he closes the distance between the two of you.

You run your hand over the buzz cut he’s given himself. “I can’t believe you decided to cut it.”

Chris shrugs his shoulders, “I had nothing else to do.”

Dodger sits on the floor, moving his head back and forth as he keeps his eyes on the two of you.

You hum as you face the stove. You check the display, noting you must place the meatballs in the sauce in ten minutes. You feel Chris’ arms wrap around you and his rough beard scrape you neck.

“Chris,” you ground out as his teeth nip at your skin.

“Y/N,” Chris whispers in his smooth baritone voice.

Shivers run down your spine as his hands dip under your shirt and stroke your skin. Your body hums as his hands move up your stomach and cup your breasts. He squeezes them lightly as he grinds himself against your ass.

You moan lightly as you feel his hardness. You try to keep your focus on stirring the sauce.

“Please tell me we have time,” Chris moans.

“We have plenty,” you pause, “later.”

Chris sighs heavily, “I guess I should do the vid for Save with Stories. Get it over with.”

You smile, “know what book you’re going to read?”

“If You Give A Dog A Donut,” Chris replies, “Dodger needs to stay in here with you.”

“I know. You know he and I get along great. Even greater than you and I.”

Chris grazes your skin with his teeth, “hey now.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at his sarcasm.

Chris removes his hands from your body then kisses your neck gently. His beard scrapes your delicate skin which sends a heatwave through your body.

“You should go,” you squeak out, “before we do something, forget dinner, and burn the house down.”

Chris chuckles lowly as he smacks your ass playfully. “I’ll be back in a few.”

You hear him shuffle away then his soft whisper to Dodger “stay here with her. Protect her Dodgy. She’s important to us both.”

From the corner of your eye you watch Dodger lower himself to the floor. He crosses his front two paws and looks up at you.

“Good boy,” Chris whispers.

You shake your head and smile as you hear Chris walk out of the kitchen to somewhere else in the house.

-------

Hours later, after dinner and approving one of Chris’ umpteenth takes on his book reading, you are sitting in an oversized chair when the doorbell rings.

Dodger removes himself from beside your chair and walks to the door with Chris.

“Thank you,” you hear Chris’ voice state as sounds of bags make their way to your ears.

Chris had said he was overseeing dessert earlier in the afternoon. You wondered what he had delivered because there was ice cream in the freezer and brownie mixes in the pantry. Your mind tries to think about what day it is because with the quarantine they’ve seemed to all run together.

It’s neither of your birthdays, nor Dodger’s. You know it’s not an anniversary either. It’s the end of March. What could possibly be at the end of March?

Then it hits you like a runaway freight train.

Two years ago, you had been sitting outside the Martha-Mary Chapel on the Longfellow’s Wayside Inn estate in a bubblegum pink bridesmaid’s dress when a plate was placed in front of your face. You had looked up and into Chris’ blue eyes.

“My mother has always advised me to never take cake from strangers,” your voice had a hint of sadness yet bewilderment to it.

“This is,” Chris had said, “the best chocolatiest cake in the entire world. The frosting alone,” Chris had done a chef’s kiss motion with the sound, “perfection. Try it.”

“Why me?” You had asked with a raised eyebrow as you took the plate and one of the two forks he had.

Chris had taken a seat beside you. His body was warm, and you had burrowed into it because of the night chill.

“Everyone here is all smiles except you.”

“I was smiles earlier.” You had retorted with sarcasm before taking your first bite.

Oh, my fucking word, your mind had thought as you tasted the most meltingly delicious chocolatiest cake of your entire life.

“For the ceremony, pictures. Yes.” Chris had remarked. “Talk to me.”

You knew who he was, knew he was a friend of the groom. You were related to the bride.

You had shrugged, taken another bite. “I’ve been in three weddings in the last ten months. Will be in two more. One I am the maid of honor, wedding of my best friend. Probably the only one I’m happy for. I mean, I am happy for them all, but you know,” you had shrugged, “I haven’t been as lucky as the couples.”

“Love is hard. Finding it, keeping it. Making it thrive.” Chris had implied as he looked at you with a sly grin.

A month later after that night, you and Chris had become official.

You now watch as Chris walks into the living room. Dodger walking beside him slowly. The wide brown eyes looking between his dad and you.

“Sit at her feet,” Chris whispers as he finally stands in front of you.

Your eyes move between the human and the animal. Your heart quickens as Dodger sits then Chris kneels in front of you.

He holds out a plate big enough for two pieces of cake from Longview but only one is on the plate along with the words “will you marry me” handwritten in chocolate sauce.

“You know I like to celebrate the night we met, because it changed my life and I know it changed yours too. We found love together. We’ve made it thrive. We’ve kept it strong through the battles we’ve encountered. I want to keep our love thriving. Finders, keepers,” Chris glees as love makes his eyes twinkle.

As if on cue, Dodger raises a paw and places it on your lap. Tied lightly to his paw is a bubblegum pink ribbon which is holding a princess cut ring in place.

“Dodger wants you to be here forever too,” Chris whispers as he hands you the plate then unties the ribbon.

When the ring is free from Dodger’s paw and the ribbon, Chris cups your cheek and strokes your skin softly. You wouldn’t trade this man for any other in the world. He was right.

You and he found love with one another. The two of you made it thrive and survive with his busy work schedule and your fast pace career. You and he weathered battles together and always won.

“Marry me Y/N,” Chris whispers as he looks into your eyes.

You see the gleam of the love, and the forever he’s promising you.

You smile brightly, “yes.”

Chris smiles widely as he chokes back the tears. He reaches down and grabs your left hand. He slides the platinum band on your left fourth finger as you lean over and press your mouth against his.

Minutes later you pull faintly away from Chris, both of you breathless and filled with loved for one another. You wanted him; you didn’t care for the dessert you held in your hand.

“Chris,” you sigh happily, “I’d rather have you now then dessert.”

Chris grins as he stands and holds out his hand, “I see no harm in giving my fiancée what she wants.”

Fiancée, you think. You never thought about finding and keeping love until Chris walked into your life. Part of you grateful he liked celebrating the night you two met.

You hold onto Chris’s hand as he walks back through the kitchen, takes the plate from your hand and sets it inside of the fridge. The both of you move towards the bedroom.

Chris wraps you in his arms as he kicks Dodger’s lion out of the room and into the hallway then closes the door. Chris kisses you deeply as your hands travel up his arms and across his broad shoulders.

You place your hands on the back of his neck and pull away. You look into his blue eyes and smile. You then run a hand over his buzz cut. You like the short hair yet preferred it slightly longer so you could run your fingers through it.

“It’ll grow back,” Chris whispers.

“I know,” you whisper in return, “I’m soaking you in under a new light. Fiancé.”

Chris chuckles low in his chest, “wait till it’s husband. Missus future Evans. Future wife.”

You sweep your lips against Chris’, “well mister Evans, I want my dessert,” you roam your hands down the flannel shirt he is wearing and begin unbuttoning it, “and you are it.”

“You’re mine,” Chris growls as his fingers dance along the waistband of your pants.

He pushes his hand into your pants and palms your core. His fingers tease your folds as your fingers move quickly to open his flannel shirt, exposing his skin to your eyes and touch.

You move your hands up his muscular abdomen and chest. His skin is soft yet warm. You enjoyed burrowing into him on cold nights during a Massachusetts winter. He’d wrap his arms around you and hold you close. You’d inhale the cedar and lemon smell of his cologne, and know you were loved and at home.

You moan lowly as your body begins to hum with pleasure and consumed with heat. You walk Chris back towards the bed, making him remove his hand from your core. You push the flannel shirt off him then push him down on the mattress.

You straddle him and place kisses along his neck then across his collarbone. You move your mouth slowly down his chest and stomach. Your fingers fumbling with his pants. After getting them undone, you reach in with one hand and find him hard. You stroke him slowly, making sure you tease the tip with your thumb.

“Fu—mmm,” Chris moans as he feels your hand wrap around his cock.

You push down his pants, with his help, and reveal his lengthy and girthy cock to your eyes. You moan lowly in your chest before dipping your head and wrapping your lips around the tip. You swirl your tongue around rapidly as you let one hand stroke the rest of his length.

Chris’ hands move through your hair as his orgasm rises inside of him. He inhales a sharp breath as you move your mouth down his length slowly. Once your mouth hits the base you move your mouth back up his length, your salvia lathering him.

Chris’ low moans and slight pull on your hair encourages you to reach up and cup his balls. Your tongue swirling around the tip of his cock then you lick his entire length slowly up and down.

“Y/N,” Chris moans as his body ramps up on pleasure and his orgasm increases its buildup.

You lower your mouth onto his cock and bob your head up and down a few more times before you release it. You kiss your way back up his stomach and chest. You nip teasingly at his neck as his hands find their way under your shirt and onto your skin.

Chris places a finger under your chin, making you look at him. He grins as he lightly places a kiss on your lips then uses the strength he has to flip you onto your back.

You sit up for a second while Chris removes his pants. You discard your top and bra as well as wiggling out of your pants and underwear. You lick your lips as Chris returns to the bed and moans loudly at your naked body.

Chris runs a hand down your body and finds your core. You’re hot and wet. He grins against your skin as he hears a moan vibrate in your chest.

“Chris,” you sigh as pleasure seeps into your body.

Chris grazes his beard roughly against your flesh as be begins moving his mouth down your body. He knows the gratification you get from feeling the prickliness of hairs against your skin, he knows you like the burn marks his beard leaves on your skin.

Chris flicks one nipple as he moves a finger along your folds. His tongue swirls teasingly around the bud as his thumb grazes your clit.

“Fuuu—mmm,” you pant breathlessly. You need his tongue on your sensitive nub, you need to his beard against your sensitive flesh.

Chris flicks the other nipple before he continues moving his mouth down your stomach, making sure his beard grazes your skin roughly, sending your body further into the depths of fulfillment.

“Chris, please,” you plead in a whisper.

Chris dips his head between your legs and uses his fingers to open your folds. He moans inwardly at seeing your wetness and knowing how sweet you taste. Chris runs his tongue up your sensitive folds and swirls his tongue around your clit.

Your hands grasp the sheets under your body as you feel Chris’ tongue against your sensitive nub. You moan loudly as you feel his beard against the sensitive skin of your folds. He knows to pleasure you with both his tongue and beard against your most sensitive area.

You roll your hips lightly increasing the pleasure both his tongue and beard. Your orgasm rising inside of steadily as you feel euphoric in every sense of the word.

“Fuck,” you whisper in a pant, “Chris!”

Your orgasm is cresting, and you move one hand to his head. The prickliness from his buzz cut adds to the pleasure and sends your body into overdrive – your orgasm crashes inside of you making your body tremble.

“Chris!” You breathlessly pant as you let the aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through your body.

Chris hums as he kisses your inner thighs. He scrapes his beard against your flesh.

Your fingers grasp the sheets as his beard sends goosebumps over your skin. You look down at him and see his trademark smirk.

“Yes?”

Your body is on a high from your orgasm and you need Chris inside of you more than ever. “I need you inside of me.”

Chris kneels between your open legs, “anything for you.”

He takes his hard cock and strokes your sensitive folds. When he hears your low moan he sinks himself slowly inside of you, making sure you feel every inch of him as he claims you again yet this time you are his fiancée, the forever love he’s been looking for his entire life.

Your breathing has increased as you feel Chris’ cock stretch you. Your slick walls wrap around him tightly as he lowers all of himself inside of your warmth and wetness.

Chris hisses as he feels your slick walls clutch his cock. You’re tight as glove around him as his entire length is buried deep inside of your depths. He feels your hands roam up his chest and land on his shoulders. He feels the light squeeze you give him – an encouragement for him to begin thrusting in and out of you.

Without hesitation, Chris begins pounding himself in and out you slowly, but his pace surging as his orgasm begins rising inside of him steadily. It was simmering and now that Chris inside of you, it’s cresting near the edge once again.

“Y/N,” Chris growls as his breathing quickens.

“Chris,” you moan in return as you lean forward and nip at his neck. Your teeth graze his skin lightly, then your tongue licks it slowly as you reach around him and dig your fingers into his back.

Your teeth and tongue send Chris over the edge. He thrusts into you once, then twice as he climaxes and empties himself inside of your pussy. He thrusts again, making sure every drop is inside of you.

Chris captures your mouth and kisses you deeply. He wraps his arms around you as you return his kiss. He feels you bring him down on top of you.

You don’t mind Chris’ body on top of yours. You enjoy his sweaty hot flesh against yours as you both come down from the highs of sex.

Chris pulls faintly away from your mouth. He notices the slight beard burn on your chin; he kisses the redden area lightly. Chris enjoys marking you, and with the ring on your finger, he knows he’s marked you forever.

“I love you Y/N.”

“I love you Chris. Finders, keepers.”

#finders keepers oneshot #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #oneshot #smut #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #fluff #beard burn #chris evans smut #im gonna leave this here

[mckinlily]

.match

Alteans marks are the source and subject of many legends. Cellica, they are called. Babies are born with skin entirely unadorned; the cheek marks are the first to appear about the same time the babies begin to sit up. They start as lighter patches of skin that quickly develop the stiffer, smoother texture of cellica. When the cellica develop to their full fledged color, the baby is taken to the local Priestess for their Naming Ceremony, where they are officially recognized as part of Altea. Throughout childhood and into the beginning of puberty, other marks appear. Along their arms, down their back, over their legs and hips. Although most cheek marks look the same from Altean to Altean, the others vary. The general placement and symmetry remains the same, but some are rounder, some more angular. Some come in continuous lines while others are broken up in patterns.

There’s a lot of superstition about cellica. Only those found on the cheeks are shown to the public--the rest are reserved for partners, family members, and very close friends. There is an old superstition that the shape of your cellica reflect the shape of your soul; to see one’s cellica is to see the essence their soul. Old wives tales and folk lore talk of evil alchemists using the shapes of one’s cellica to cast spells on them. Those tales are considered works of fictions these days, but the general belief--that these are something personal, private, to be shared only under the conditions of greatest trust--remains. The most personal marks are considered to be those that reside on the inside of one’s wrist. These marks tend to be slimmer, more delicate and intricate, and even the most brazen Altean who many be willing to walk with both their arms bare for the viewing will cover their wrists with bands or bangles. Hands are no longer so very scandalous as they once were, but most Alteans will still wear gloves. Even Allura’s fingerless gloves were considered risqué by certain members of the court when she first donned them, but she considered them quite old fashioned.

But other superstitions are more fun. There is a whole market of books and holo-vids and lectures claiming to “interpret” cellica ranging from personality to romance and destiny. The scientific community agrees that cellica are merely the result of random genetic variation and seem to serve a purpose in channelling and keeping one’s quintessence at a healthy level. While this is generally known by the public, is has done nothing to stop the public interest in cellica readings, rather like the Altean equivalent of horoscopes. Sure, everyone knows it’s basically nonsense, but it’s fun to imagine, is it not?

And the most persistent and enticing superstition is that the shape of your cellica will match those of your soulmate. Skeptics will point out that the definition of a match is left so vague and the variation between marks so common, that it is possible to claim any two people’s cellica “match.” Which, indeed, is exactly what happens. Some poor souls spend their whole lives chasing the perfect match or believing they match anyone they come in contact with. But most often, partners choose each other first and then find the similarities that “prove” their cellica compatibility later, thus perpetuating the legend. There are a multiple schools of thought theorizing which marking styles are compatible, which complement each other, which ones should never go together. And thus it is entirely possible for any combination of partners to confidently claim they were “fated.”

Like most children, Allura grew up imagining of the day she would share her cellica marks with someone special. She had little interest in courting and romance now, caught up as she was in studying and training and all the other duties that came with being a princess, but later (whenever later happened to be) she dreamed of baring her arms to someone she loved while they did the same and tracing out the similarities drawn in their skin. 

But then there was the Galra and the war--even if she had wanted to court, she didn’t have the time--and then waking up ten thousand years later to a people who were gone and a war that was still waging. Any thoughts of soulmates and romance were completely wiped from her mind, replaced by righteous fury, vengeance, and the need to survive. 

Allura keeps busy: planning battles, training the paladins, and most of all, trying to develop her new skills with quintessence. Alchemy had always been something other people did. Allura was more interested in fighting or flying or even law and diplomacy. But now her magic is essential to their survival and all she has to go off of are vague memories and Haggar. She is determined and desperate, racing to learn as much as she can because what she doesn’t know could be what gets someone killed. 

(...one of the paladins killed. Allura had never thought of finding family outside the one her blood gave her, never thought she’d need to, but they wormed their way in and they can’t--she can not lose them now.)

Allura may not know much about alchemy and magic, but it doesn’t take long for her to realize one of her cellica have changed. Where once was a delicate half-moon of shimmery pink inside her wrist is now a disfigured blob, duller and smeared like spilled oil. Horror strikes sharp pain in her sternum that works its way into something heavier and colder as she remembers Haggar’s red and jagged marks. In a sick way, it makes sense. Cellica have always been connected to quintessence, and she has been using more and in ways she had never imagined. Perhaps if she had someone older, someone knowledgeable and experienced to guide her, she could learn the tricks or skills or whatever it is to avoid it. But she doesn’t. She’s completely alone, the only other alchemist being Haggar, and she has to learn because otherwise innocent people will die.

Allura will never run away from the people who need her. Not again.

So she fights, and she learns. She battles Haggar to a standstill and tries so, so hard not to look at her arms. But sometimes she can’t avoid it, and she can hardly bare what she finds. The delicate, intricate cellica on the insides of her wrists are shattered now. Some splatter like spilled numvil, others have gone dull and sickly grey. New marks, disfigured and without symmetry smear over her arms and into her palms. They look like dead things, pressed into her skin and now a part of her. Some marks start out pink but turn grey-white and misshapen, and that’s somehow worse.

Allura tells no one. She knows that cellica are simply a quirk of genetics, that they have no bearing on the worth or character of a person, and that there had been those when Altea was still alive with disfigured or missing cellica who lived perfectly happy, valuable lives. It doesn’t change how she feels. Tainted, defiled, broken. She can’t even bring it up to Coran, the shame too much for her to bear. It was well known that when an Altean loved someone, truly loved them, and in moments of greatest intimacy, their cellica could light up like a personal galaxy. Allura has known since she first woke up that she will likely never have someone to glow for her, but she must now face the fact that she will never be able to glow for anyone else. Not without looking more patchy than starry and highlighting the broken and dead places where her cellica should be. The idea of it repulses her. She’s incapable of love like she wants--like she should--and she feels so broken, tainted and alone. 

But she can’t stop. Whatever she does, she won’t stop until the Galra are defeated and the universe is free again. If the personal cost is her marks and her soul, so be it. It is no one’s burden but hers. She wears her sleeves long and tight, says nothing, and carries on because that was what she was built to do.

Or, at least, that was what she meant to do. But the paladins are nothing if not unpredictable and perhaps no one more so than Shiro. He’s patient and thoughtful. Strong enough to survive the arena, the Galra, and everything they throw at him. And stronger still to remain kind through it all. He’s her strongest ally (tied with Coran), and over time becomes her closest confidant. They discuss the war and the strategies they need to survive, but their conversations frequently turn to something more. Shiro is curious about Altean history and culture and willing to listen no matter how long she babbles on. And although he doesn’t ask and she certainly doesn’t mean to tell, she ends up retelling old folk tales which leads to myths and cellica.

“There’s this old superstition that your cellica will match those of your soul mate,” she says.

“Is it rude to ask someone what their cellica look like?”

“Yes,” says Allura. She remembers her own cellica, damaged and meaningless now. She sighs.“Though perhaps not in my case.”

“Because you’re the princess?” says Shiro, looking adorably earnest and confused.

Allura almost laughs at him, but she can’t. Instead, she wraps a hand around the wrist where the damage is greatest. “No,” she says. “Because they won't match anyone anymore. Even if I did find more Alteans. They’re--they’re ruined.”

“Oh,” says Shiro. He doesn’t quite reach out for her, but his face emotes empathy.

And Allura doesn’t know why she does it, but she removes her gloves and pushes her sleeves up. The sleeves are too tight to get past her elbow, but it’s enough. Her ugly, shattered and disfigured cellica are on display. She holds them out to Shiro saying, “They’re supposed to be pink. And symmetric--” symmetry had always been important, no matter who you asked “--and not like this.” 

Shiro takes her hands, eyebrows pulling together as he scans over her arms and then back to her face. “Is this from the war?”

“Fighting Haggar,” Allura confirms. “The damage has stopped spreading mostly, but...” But it was there, irreversible, the price paid.

Shiro’s expression is sad but too deep to be pity. And he doesn’t tell her she shouldn’t have done it: he as well as anyone knows the costs of war. “I’m so sorry,” he said softly instead.

“It’s...” Allura means to say “it’s fine,” but Shiro is gentle and here, and it all comes tumbling out. The stories and the fear, the superstitions, the glowing and how she will never be able to show someone her love without also reminding them of how she was broken, and the way she feels tarnished, less of a person.

Shiro listens through all of this, his eyes moving between her face and her arms and back again. He’d asked if it was all right for him to touch her marks, and Allura hadn’t said no, but she hadn’t quite said yes either, so he remained, only holding her hands and gently squeezing her fingers. 

Eventually, Allura removes one of her hands to wipe at her eyes. She feels exhausted and heavy, and while sharing has lifted some of the burden, it’s also opened wounds she had been trying so hard to ignore.

Shiro hasn’t spoken in a while. Finally, he gets up, and Allura has the sudden, irrational fear that he’s leaving.

“Close your eyes,” he says. “Or just...” he hitches his shoulders uncomfortably, “don’t look.”

He turns his back on her, but then Allura realizes he’s messing with the hem of his shirt and she immediately looks away, cheeks hot. The idea of Shiro taking off his shirt, even if she isn’t looking, even if humans have very different standards of privacy is horribly embarrassing. She can hardly bare to hear the rustle of his clothes. 

Shiro huffs a soft laugh. “Okay, you can look now.”

He’s sitting in front of her again. His shirt is off, but he still has on the vest he normally wears on top of it, thank the Ancients. Allura is in no way ready to see all the skin of his chest right now. 

Allura is so distracted by her embarrassment, it takes her a minute to notice that Shiro is holding out his hands to her the same way she had to him earlier.

“I know it’s not the same, but...” He trails off, his lip caught between his teeth like he’s nervous.

It occurs to Allura that she’s never seen Shiro’s bare arms. She never questioned it before. He was the oldest of the paladins, and though Allura now knows that humans don’t have marks or any reason to cover their arms as they get older, it simply made sense to her that Shiro’s would be covered. But they’re bare now, and Allura is looking. Most noticeable, of course, is the Galra arm, the silver metal that she had seen before, though now she could also seen the red, scarred, and puffy skin where the metal meets flesh. The sight pains her.

But the other arm is possibly worse. There are scars running from a shiny welt behind his thumb to the gnarled knot over his shoulder. They come in all shapes and sizes, some patterned like claw marks, others smears as if entire chunks got melted or burned away. Still others arc and fracture like electricity. There’s a whole world of pain and endurance and torture in just one arm, and Allura has to be mindful of her strength so that she doesn’t crush his hands in her fury. 

“Just...” says Shiro when she doesn’t respond. He shrugs uncomfortably, looking both nervous and tentatively hopeful. “I’m not symmetric either. We match.”

We match. Allura’s eyes meet his. His smile is nervous--no, embarrassed. His shoulders hunch in even as he holds his arms out to her, and Allura realizes he keeps his scars covered for the same reason she hides hers. Because they feel shameful, tainted, and reminders of pain and trauma. 

And yet Allura doesn’t see Shiro as broken. She can’t. He is the strongest person she has ever known, and she takes a certain, vicious pride in knowing he was strong enough survive this--that he came back to them and leads and fights with them now. The scars are proof that the Galra tried to destroy him. But they didn’t. Shiro is still here, noble and determined as ever, and lending his strength to keep them going every day.

Allura looks down at where their hands rest between them, both covered in random, ugly and disfigured marks. Shiro is right: they do match. Not because of any lore, but because they have both fought--and lost and suffered and picked themselves up and kept fighting because they refuse to be defeated. These are marks they wear so that others won’t have to. Marks of sacrifice, of love and determination.

Both of them would die to save the universe. But they haven’t. They have lived.

Allura gently squeezes Shiro’s fingers. She doesn’t have words, but she doesn’t have to because Shiro understands. For the first time since her first cellica changed, she doesn’t feel so very alone.

“Thank you,” she says softly.

“You don’t need to thank me.” Shiro takes his arms back, tucking them against his chest. His cheeks are red, and he ducks his head. “I know it isn’t pretty.”

Allura places her hand on his shoulder. Seeing the same emotions in Shiro and reflected back at her is strange but also freeing. “Shiro,” she says. “Nothing about you is ugly or shameful. I promise you.”

Shiro’s eyes look over-bright for a moment, but he still smiles. “The same is true of you, Allura. A million times over. We are so incredibly lucky to have you.”

It’s Allura’s turn to blush, and a few spots among her ruined cellica lighten, a disjointed attempt to glow. But this time, next to Shiro who has scars and loss of his own, she doesn’t feel so very broken.

Allura still wears her sleeves long. She will probably never show her cellica to anyone, even though Coran and the paladins are as good as family. The loss is still deep. But when she looks across the bridge, Shiro is there, with his own dark sleeves and hidden pain, and when he catches her looking, his eyes gleam with determination.

They may not both be Altean, but they have clearly been marked by the universe in their unique ways. They match, and perhaps that’s all cellica and soulmates are about in the end: a promise neither one of them is alone. 

#voltron #shiro #allura #headcanon? #ficlet? #this sort of got away from me #shallura implied #platonic or romantic whatever you like #i don't care #mckinlily writes: vld fic