#like a dusty mirror not taken care of. or something

[potatochip-oc-dump]

YEAAHHHH WOOOOO *whooping and clapping and cheering*

#oc #carolyne “princess” castelle #oc ref #anthro #original character #OUUUHHH ok im finally satisfied with her design i think #one of my favorite drawings i have done of her i think........... in terms of looks #like in this one i think u can tell more clearly that something is off abt her because in all of the other ones #she just looks like she is smiling normally & just has messy hair #la la la i love her #i think that also confirms that her name is probably staying as carolyne castelle #her colors to me feel like .... they must be very desaturated and light. i want her to be very pale #in like a way that gives off an.... old and abandoned feeling? u know? #like a dusty mirror not taken care of. or something #i want her to be pale in a way that looks sickly #because something something in am effort to force herselg into the mold of a perfect girl she lost herself along the way #something something shes lost her color #FADED thats the word i was looking for #she also has two major designs methinks which means i may give her another outfit at a later date

[octuscle]

Now open under new management (remake)

Edward Parker III rolled down the car window a crack. Peter, his driver, had switched off the air conditioning to save fuel. The fuel gauge was practically at 0.00. Here, in the middle of nowhere, they had no mobile network. The last Google message said that a petrol station would appear at some point. And Peter claimed that it should open in five minutes. Open from 10:40 am. Strange opening times. Edward's stomach grumbled. Something had gone wrong at breakfast. The car desperately needed a gas pump. And he needed a toilet just as badly. Then, like an oasis in the desert, a building appeared in the middle of endless cornfields and pastures full of stupidly staring cattle. It was 10:39:50 a.m. when Peter steered the car into the dusty gas station with the last drop of gas. At 10:40 sharp, Edward yanked open the car door and jumped out. And the moment his spotless Oxfords touched the ground, the neon sign flashed. Open!

Edward ran towards the little store where the neon sign was shining. He was far too intent on not wetting his pants to notice the leather soles of his shoes turning into a firm rubber tread. When he pushed the door handle down, he got something like an electric shock. He didn't care. The store was empty. His palm became calloused. His fingernails were black. There was a door at the back labeled "Private". Hopefully there was a toilet there. Thank God the door was open. And thank God there was a toilet. In the middle of a room full of tools, car tires and packages. It stank miserably. But Edward didn't care at all. He had already undone his belt while running, unzipped his trousers, pulled them down and dropped onto the dirty toilet seat at the last moment. And he had to shit like never before in his life. The stench was overwhelming. But the relief was immense. Edward finally relaxed again. But only for a second. Then his eyes fell on the dirty biker boots. They contained a pair of completely filthy jeans, pulled down as far as they would go. And what was even more irritating: his right hand was the hand of a construction worker, the sleeve of his shirt had disappeared. And the fabric of the right sleeve of his jacket was also coming undone. And on his chest and back, the color changed from a navy blue to a washed-out red. What the hell was going on here?

Even greater than the panic was the disgust at the stench. His left hand, still freshly manicured, reached for the toilet flush. And again he was hit by an electric shock. Panicked, he watched as his fingernails became dirty and his hand calloused. Edward's gaze fell between his legs. That wasn't his circumcised, shaved penis. That was a cheesy, hairy cock. Much bigger than it normally was. Edward had to get out of here! He hastily wiped his ass. A tight, hairy ass, sitting there on a familiar toilet seat. A man needs a good place to shit. Hehehe, this was a good place to shit. Stumbling, Edward stood up, his head spinning. He looked in the mirror. That was still his head. But the rest of him? His stiff white collar and tie knot vanished into thin air, revealing a well-toned chest. The last remnants of the finest navy blue wool on his upper left arm disappeared, and the transformation of his jacket into a washed-out and worn-out tank top was complete. I look like a fucking hillbilly, were his last thoughts before he grew a scruffy three-day fuzzy beard. His $100 haircut became a home-cut mullet. Damn, the greasy hair hadn't been washed in a while.

Loud honking from outside. "Damn, I've taken a shit! Can't you wait?" Edward shouted. He wiped his hands on the dirty cloth stuck in his pants. Washing hands was for sissies in the city. He entered the yard of his gas station.

Hehehe, he knew the dirty truck that was parked there at the gas pump. "Pete's services of all kinds" was written on the door. And Pete Jr. was hanging in the cab with a visible bulge. "Eddy, don't you always promise the best service at your gas station?" said Pete with a grin. Ed spat out the chewing tobacco and licked his lips. "Go ahead, gas station attendant. The belt buckle won't undo itself!"

Full service and guaranteed customer satisfaction. That's what Ed's gas station was famous for.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #male transformation #muscle transformation #redneck tf #age reduction #white to blue collar tf #ai image #mullet

[dearestaeneas]

Pappappappappap.

Turn left. Up three slats. Forward for a bit. Hang a right.

Ancient drywall dust speckled the ground at his paws, the wood old and dry and at risk for splintering. It was an absolute playground.

The rat did not know this, but the house had been abandoned for years. On the other side of the wall sat dusty furniture and heavily graffitied wallpaper, empty glass bottles, and general litter. The town had debated knocking it over, putting up a parking lot, but decided against it.

There wasn’t even a shopping mall. What would we need the lot for?

So there the house remained. Abandoned and unloved by humans. The teens who hid in the leaf-filled kitchen to smoke after school did not love the house, with its 3 floors and creaky stairs. The college students who appeared each Thanksgiving night to drink and reminisce, pretending they were anything other than babies in the world did not love the house’s study, home to an elderly desk that no one cared enough to look in. The rats and birds and insects and squirrels did not see the need for the money, or the books, or the gold watch that still, despite it all, ticked.

Pappappappappap.

His little feet pounded ever forward, his little round body squeezing effortlessly upwards between wooden planks.

The little rat, with his round body and busy feet, loved the house. He did not care about the once-expensive looking rugs, or the elegant, but stained, crown molding, and he did not care about the ornate door knobs. The little rat, in no particular order, loved these things about the house:

He loved the still-somewhat-silver silverware that sat in a kitchen drawer for the noise it made when he scurried over them (knives make for a particularly pleasant noise, with their flat edges that slide off of one another).

He loved the bookshelves that lined the walls of most of the rooms, because they made for excellent perches to sit on to survey the floor (not to mention that if one of the books could be knocked over, a page could be taken for a nest with incredible ease).

He loved the plushies left behind in one of the smaller upstairs rooms. There was one that looked like him! Although this was not his favorite (that honor belonged to a little brown bear, who lay on his back, leaving his stomach open for the most wonderful of naps), it pleased him. A mirror had been knocked off the bathroom cabinet and shattered, its shards sparkling on the floor. The little rat tended to avoid that room, knowing simply that the little silver points were bad news, and not needing more information than that. However, he had not come to this conclusion without first exploring the room, for the initial shattering had mimicked the pleasant sounds of the silverware, but times a thousand. He was intrigued by the other little round-bodied rat who looked back at him from one of the shards. He hoped he was not lonely in there.

But the little rat did not love the house for what it contained. Its contents were beneficial and made life interesting and wonderful, but he would have loved the house if it were vacant and cold and bare and boring. The little rat loved the house because it was his home, and because his home loved him.

His home protected him from the rain and the snow and the cold and the heat, his home kept him entertained and safe and happy. He needed nothing and wanted for less.

Pappappappappappap.

He wanted to do something nice for his home. But what did he have to offer? He couldn’t fix the leaky roof, or replace a cracked tile, couldn’t put a chair back upright or even change a lightbulb.

Ultimately, he decided the best way he could show his love would simply be to live in his home. His home would understand his limitations, while still seeing that the little rat stayed because he wanted to, and because staying was important to him.

He climbed higher and higher, ascending more and more wooden slats and boards, scurrying from opening to opening, until finally: a break in the wall.

Drywall parted, and the little rat felt himself becoming giddy. He inched forward, his little nose twitching furiously, his little black eyes boggling.

He panted slightly, having climbed all the way up to the second floor. A journey that would take a human seconds had taken him several minutes. He looked out from his little hole in the drywall to see the ancient chandelier at eye level. If he wanted, he could climb all the way to the very top, and look down onto the chandelier. He’d done this several times, and would, inevitably, do it again.

But there was something magical to being eye level with the sparkly glass. He would say nature played a cruel joke on him, leading him to his home and cursing him with his blurred vision, stopping him from admiring the intricate details of the crystal before him, but the simple problem with this is that he didn’t know any better, didn’t know there was a world outside of the outlines and colors he saw. He loved his home for its outlines and colors, for the way that the chandelier caught the light at certain hours of the day. He loved the sparkle of the rainbow that was cast about the entryway.

Nature was not cruel, nature did not punish him or play jokes. It loved him. It loved him the way he loved his home, it protected him and marveled at him and delighted in his joy.

He sat there, squeaking with great contentment as the sun went down and its rays caught the glass, bathing him and the home he loved in color.

#i've been having some crazy writers block lately. here's the beginning of something i originally intended to be a one off #but i fear i'm gonna add to this more later. i'm having fun! i want to write something with a happy ending! for the first time in a while! #writers #writers on tumblr #writer #original writing #original story #third person pov #third person perspective #rats #rat #ratblr #fiction #fiction writing #adventure fiction #adventure #adventure writing #cute #wholesome #short story #short fiction #writeblr

[an-aspiration]

I was wondering if you could please do a smut where carl (grimes) and the reader go on a supply run and hook up in the car on the way back after flirting the whole day pleasee

𝐀𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐚

Warnings: thigh riding, smut, vaginal penetration,

It was morning, you awoke feeling refreshed in the cozy house you shared with Rosita and Eugene.

“Good morning, guys," you mumbled with a contented stretch.

Eugene let you know that Rick needed your assistance on a supply run with Carl since Enid had unexpectedly bailed.

"Why the hell did Enid bail over a haircut and Maggie?" you interrupted

Rosita responded with a casual shrug, "Something about Maggie's vision for her hair didn't align with Enid's. Weird, I know. So, are you up for the run?"

“Yeah I guess I’m up for it”

You weren’t excited, because going on runs wasn’t your favorite thing, but having alone time with Carl definitely made it seem more appealing. You always had un-resolved tension. Flirting was kind of your thing, but you never did anything. It’s been that way since you met a few years back at the prison. You wonder if that will ever change.

Having filled yourself with breakfast, you retrieved your "go bag" from beneath your bed.

Underneath a semi-sunny sky, you walked to Carl's place, where the RV was parked outside.

You stood awkwardly on the porch, knocking and waiting for him. Then you heard the dusty doorknob turn and the door open.

“Hey y/n, you know what we’re doing today?”

“No, not really”

“Alright, um well here’s the list it’s mostly food and cleaning supplies. We’ll we back by tomorrow” he said handing the small paper to you

“Okay that should be fine”

“Yeah, lets go”

He hopped in the drivers seat and you sat in the back sharpening your hunters knife.

“So looks like the only towns nearby that aren’t crossed out on the map are North Bethesda and Aspen Hill. Which one do you say we hit?”

“Mm I think North Bethesda. There’s a mall over there with a super-target.”

“Alright sounds good”

You both shared small talk about what candies you both hoped to find this time. On previous runs, you always looked forward to looking for candy after everything on the list was taken care of. The one rule you had established together was calling dibs on what you wanted.

“Okay looks like we’re here, Westfield Mall”

Stepping out of the car, a refreshing breeze hit you. Together, you strolled, through the empty mall trying to navigate the target.

Entering the store, you and Carl wasted no time. Playfully, you picked up a chair and dropped it, hoping to attract a walkers attention.

“There we go," you jeered as a pair of walkers stumbled in your direction.

Carl chimed in, "I'll take care of this one," nodding towards the one on the left.

With swift precision, you pulled out your knife and killed the first walker. When you glanced back at Carl, he had mirrored your actions, already finishing off his own target and dusting himself off. Just then, a hefty walker wobbled toward him from the side. Reacting instinctively, you stepped forward to handle it on your own.

" Walker!" you called out, swiftly raising your blade toward its skull. However, the determined walker fought back, snapping dangerously close to your face. You tried pushing it away with all your strength, but failed. The walker swiped at you with it’s jagged nails.

Losing your balance, you ended up on your butt, and Carl had to step in, taking out the walker from behind. The encounter left you feeling a bit drained and worn out.

“Jeez are you okay?” he said reaching his hand out to you

“Yeah I’m fine thanks” you chuckled

“Oh your shirt” he chuckled, giving you a small smile

“Huh?” you glanced down at your shirt seeing that the walker had ripped it across, exposing your bra.

“Great” you sighed

“Its not that bad, I mean I’m not complaining, but there’s another shirt in that box” he jeered

“Oh shut up!” Tossing your torn shirt at his face. You sifted through a box you scavenged and picked out a regular tank top.

You guys walked around collecting most things on the list. You also found some goods that weren’t on the list like jewelry and snacks.

You both finished and packed everything you looted in the RV. You were throwing a can of empty gasoline in a dumpster when you felt a pain in your shoulder.

“God my arm is aching so bad” you sighed rubbing your shoulder

You felt Carl come from behind you and snake his hands up your back and to your shoulders, rubbing them.

Immediately your muscles relaxed and your head drooped.

“Does that feel good?” he grinned

“Yes” you snickered

“Mm cmon it’s getting dark, lets find a spot to park and call it night?”

“Alright” you giggled

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“I’ll let you get changed in here, I’ll use the bathroom” Carl said

“No that’s fine we can both change in here” you insisted, beginning to undress

He just stood there, almost dumb founded as you were left topless, now unbuttoning your jeans. You looked up to see him glancing everywhere but your eyes.

“What? Like what you see?” You said softly biting your lip

“Don’t give me that look” he said now walking towards you

A brief moment of anticipation hung in the air before he closed the gap between you, his lips meeting yours in a fervent, passionate kiss. You both stayed like that for a moment, you brought your hand down his sides in a seductive fashion.

You broke the kiss to guide him over to the bed before returning it again. He was on top of you, and you both continued stripping your clothes off.

Once you were fully exposed he took a moment to take it all in.

“You wouldn’t believe how long I’ve wanted this.” He said, slightly out of breath

He flipped your position around, you were now seated on his thigh as he began manually moving your hips back and forth.

You moaned into his shoulder feeling the sensation of your cunt rubbing against his jeans.

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive” he grinned

“Ye-yeah me either”

As your rode his thigh, he ran his fingers along your hair. You palmed his dick through his jeans and clung into the bed with your free hand.

He began planting hickies on your neck, but at this point you were too distracted to care. Just then you found the perfect spot that made your vision begin to blur, and you sped up your pace.

“Your doing so good” he purred

You only moaned in response to his praise, too overwhelmed. But just then you realized how empty you felt, you needed more.

“I don’t want to come like this I need you”

“Tell me that again” he grinned

“Please carl I need you inside of me”

At this, he switched your position once again.

“Bend over,spread your legs”

You immediately did so, becoming more impatient as the seconds passed, as he got all the way undressed

He gradually slid into you groaning. You felt like you entered heaven right then and there. Once he filled you up he began thrusting at a fast pace.

“Carl!” you whimpered into the air. You thought about this moment a million times while giving yourself pleasure.

He stretched you out perfectly, rubbing right against your sweet spot.

“Damn, you’re so tight.” he said in absolute euphoria

He put one hand on your hip, and the other found your hair, tugging lightly.

You ground into his dick matching each thrust. The stimulation became too much all too fast. Your mouth gaped open and you closed your eyes.

You looked back him trembling from how much ecstasy this was giving you.

“God right there” Your stomach began to tense up

“Are you close?”

“Yes”

At this he grabbed your arm to bring it down to your clit, guiding your fingers in circular motions on your clit. At that moment he came inside of you causing you to cry out and reach your peak. Once again shockwaves went through you and you melted into pleasure.

“Oh my god” you said falling onto your stomach as you catch your breath “We need to do this all the time”

Carl rolled you over onto your back, and connected your lips for a lazy kiss.

“Definitely”

A/n!!

I feel like I peaked in writing two weeks ago but I’m trying 😭😭☻︎ anyway I see on the poll that yall want a part two for friends with benefits. But I saw a reblog that says all and so I’m probs gonna do all but fwb first

#carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes fic #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes #carl grimes angst #carl grimes smut #carl grimes x you #carl grimes you #carl grimes imagine #carl grimes imagines

[pintobordeaux]

Bingo Square A5 - Office @dreamlingbingo

Title: Scratches Rating: Mature (M) Pairing: Dream/Hob Word Count: 496 Warnings/Tags: No archive warnings apply, Implied BDSM, cursing Summary: A coworker of Hob's unintentionally finds out more than she wanted to know about Dream and Hob's physical relationship.

“Ah Shit,” Hob cursed as the lukewarm coffee slowly spread into the fibers of his shirt. It hadn’t even been good coffee. Or hot coffee. And now Hob had to change his shirt before his next class.

“Hahaha oh man that’s going to be a look! Start the new fashion trend - academic swill chic!” Hob shook his head and smiled before sighing and reaching into his desk for the rumpled spares he always kept stuffed in the back.

“Ah - are you okay if I—?” He gestured to the shirt. They’d been friends and colleagues for years now. And Hob wasn’t embarrassed by his body or being seen, but he did try to take the comfort of others into consideration in situations like this. Especially ones that could easily be taken out of context in an academic and professional setting.

“Psh, Gadling you know I don’t care. Besides, what would my wife say? ‘OH dearest — you saw Robbie shirtless for 2.5 seconds however will I cope with the jealousy?’” She feigned an overinflated maidens sigh and fell into the dusty broken office chair across from Hob. “Oh hardy har har,” he retorted before turning away from her and stripping off his soiled shirt. “OH MY GOD. what happened to you?” Hob turned around to face the friend addressing him. “What do ya mean?” He tilted his head in confusion. “Your back!” She said pointing at Hob. A brief sting of the accusatory terror of the 1600’s welled up in him at the gesture of someone he considered a friend looking upon him in horror. “My back?” he said defensively. “Yes! Look!” She spun him around and maneuvered Hob towards the small mirror he kept on the wall.

OH.

He had forgotten all about those. Large red and purple scratches lined his back like racetracks. He supposed they probably looked pretty brutal to an outsider. Not to mention just how large the nails were that made them the night before. He was so used to pain that small things like this didn’t even register anymore. Not to mention he didn’t exactly find them unpalatable. It was quite the opposite. He relished when Dream was able to mark him like this. Was so lost in the throes of sex he clung to Hob out of need and desperation.

Hob rubbed his ear in an anxious tic he had never been able to extinguish throughout his long life, especially when it dealt with a topic that was too close to the secrets he kept as close to him as possible. “Ahhh yes that. Er—don’t worry about that all consensual I assure you!” “All cons—Gadling what the fuck kind of kinky shit are you into? No. Wait, don't answer that. I don’t need to know. Good lord man, just keep it covered.”

She laughed but her eyes betrayed the sheer shock at discovering something far more personal than she had intended to about her academic colleague on a Tuesday morning.

#dreamling #Dreamling fanfiction #dream/hob gadling #dream of the endless/hob gadling #pintowrites

[dollfxcx]

hey!! could I ask for a pennywise smut where he just... fucks reader's mouth? and moving them around like a ragdoll and shit? (only if you're comfortable with that!!!)

[this was honestly so fun to write (him moving me around like a fucking toy is my biggest dream so I was happy to fulfill your wishes🙌🏻). I used she/her pronouns only once (literally), I hope it's okay, if not lemme know and I'll fix it right away<3]

TW: nsfw, emotional manipulation, food gore (? does that even exist), hate sex.

context: reader tried to leave neibolt house dozens of times yet she always comes back. yet this time penny's a little pissed at how long it took you. oh shucks what is he gon do😔🤭

word count: (1.7k +)

The house no longer looks like the one you left a few months ago. It's ruined, decadent, dead. It slopes perilously to one side and the once gleaming wood is now rotten and dusty. The lawn around has no longer been taken care of, tall blades of grass reach about a meter in height, yet they are not of a beautiful bright green, but yellow and dry, with curled and sharp edges. There is no trace of the hammock, as well as the small vases of flowers that used to rest on the balconies next to the main door. You place the heavy backpack on the ground, in front of the entrance, and take out the set of house keys. You try to insert them in the lock, but the door is already open. It invites you in, subtly, as if it wants you there. You place your hand on the handle, a shaking grip just begging you to step back and run. Yet you don't, perhaps stupidly, you keep your feet firmly on the ground. You lower the doorknob, the palm of your hand wet from the raindrops that were resting there, and you enter the house. Against all odds, everything is as you left it, in total contrast to the conditions outside. Everything is almost too tidy, to be honest.

"Is that you, Y/n, darling?" Your heart begins to beat almost spasmodically when you hear his voice, it seems like a gentle singsong that caresses your ear, sweet and familiar timbre. It comes from the kitchen, so you walk towards it, almost stealthily. He's facing the counter, tinkering with a steaming baking tray, but when he turns around, he is exactly as your best memories depict him, no claws or abominable razor-sharp teeth, just his sweet painted nose and buck teeth peeking through his full lips. Your legs feel feeble when he turns to look at you, sky blue eyes you've dreamed of seeing again for too long and an almost feline smile on your face.

"I made you lasagna." he points out to you as he places two plates on the dining table, his hands, beautifully gloved, comically undoing his apron. With still a shroud of suspicion, you sit down at the table, watching his every move. Pennywise grabs the baking tray where the lasagna should be, but, for a second, you can swear you saw something else altogether, something mushy, something throbbing. Something red, slimy. Alive. You blink and everything is as before, the lasagna gives off a hot and inviting steam and Pennywise looks happier than when you set foot in the house. He sits across from you and serves you a piece of lunch, a watchful and expectant gaze as he watches the movement of your fork as it approaches your lips. And when the first bite tickles your taste buds, you feel like puking, the rotting taste of raw 

(human)

meat coating your tongue. You jump up, not even noticing the slight smile on his lips, and run to the bathroom.

***

"Doll, is everything okay?" You hear him speaking through the thick bathroom door, but you can't take your eyes off the mirror, your reflection, your (blood) red-stained lips, a metallic taste on them. You turn on the tap grudgingly and moisten the towel to clean yourself, but when you're about to bring it to your face, the stain is gone in the blink of an eye. Pennywise knocks on the door again, an insistence typical of him and, with an exasperated snort, you open it, the vision that appears in front of you makes your legs feel weak. His chest rises and falls slowly, straining the fabric of the silk grey costume he's wearing, a tuft of ginger hair dangles merrily in front of his eyes, very cheekily, full and plump lips slightly parted, and he's handsome as hell.

(The eyes cannot see what the heart sees

The mind cannot know what the heart knows

The ears cannot hear what the heart hears

The hands cannot give what the heart gives

There's a storm coming

There's a storm coming, feel the electricity

There is a storm coming to my city

It brings novelty, it brings novelty)

One of his hands gently grips your hair, tilting your head back so his lips, warm and slightly moist, like wax, can rest on the skin of your throat, the other grips your side, fingertips digging into your flesh.

"What took you so long?" he hums, sucking at the skin of your neck, tugging at your hair harshly for more access. You recoil from the jerk against the wall, one of his knees makes room between your legs for you to grind against it, his breath tickling the shell of your ear in a soothing tone.

"But you're back now, yes! Beautiful, beautiful

(fear)

Y/n, she always comes back to me, mh?" Pennywise bites your earlobe, his finger caresses your collarbone with butterfly-like lightness. You melt at his words and sigh, trying to convince yourself that this is the real him, that everything that has happened in the previous months has been all imagination, that maybe you are just schizophrenic, or that you dreamed it all up.

(And my mind is split inside one body)

His lips barely touch yours, you feel a slight smirk on your skin.

“You could be so good for me…” he comments, as if he's sorry that, until now, you haven't been able to be like that, yet. His hands move to your shoulders, yanking you down harshly, and it should hurt to land so hard on the floor, but you can't even feel it, too focused on his eyes gleaming golden when they meet yours. He gently takes your chin between his fingers, stroking your lips with his thumb, a little smile peers down at you.

"Can you be good for me now? You can give ol' Pennywise a reason why he should keep you, yes?" You don't quite understand why he said keep you, but you honestly don't care right now, you can only nod slightly under his light caresses. He hums appreciatively and spreads his legs slightly as his hand reluctantly leaves your face to fly to the hem of his pantaloons.

(Life is much broader than a definition

And everyone's waiting for something to happen

That will remove the veil of dust from reality)

You don't realize you breathe a sigh of relief when, pants around his ankles, his cock is freed from the garment's grip. The last time you dealt with it, you didn't get a chance to see it, it all happened too fast and the way you felt it inside you didn't seem human at all. What you are facing now, indeed, isn't human in the slightest, it's hard and it wriggles with tentacle-like enthusiasm, tip flushed and somehow already wet, eager. One of his hands is on his hip, the other is leaning against the wall behind you for support.

"Come on" he smiles, accommodating, reassuring, so loving you can't help but obey. You part your lips, palm open to grab his cock and lift it slightly, tongue flattened to caress the entire length. You hear him hissing above you, his hand moves from the wall to run through your hair, pulling it lightly, as if he's trying to hold back.

(And everything we know is not true

The origins are lost in the void of time

But everything is preserved in the depths)

You take it in your mouth slowly, without going too deep, teasing the tip to make soft pleased moans come out of his mouth. The taste is unexpectedly sweet, like 

(rotten meat)

cotton candy, so you suck on it harder, tongue concentrated in passing through each slick crease to savor the sweetness of its pre-cum. He moans softly, you look up to see how his eyes have rolled into his skull in pleasure, slightly parted lips quivering, Adam's apple rising and falling as he swallows, a slight streak of drool dripping from his corner of the mouth.

"Yeah, like that..." he murmurs softly, his hand pressing against the back of your neck to push himself deeper. The feeling of gagging that starts building up in your throat can't be helped, even if you try to back away there's the wall behind you, so, with tears starting to sting your eyes, you allow him to fuck your mouth, his cock so deep that your nose presses, at one point, against his crotch. His movements go from rhythmic to spasmodic, carelessly thrusting in your mouth like an rabid animal and while it's not entirely pleasant, you hope it doesn't end. May this be what awaits you tomorrow too. And the next day. And the one after that. Pennywise cums in your mouth with an intensity you didn't expect, but his hand doesn't release from your hair, preventing you from moving, as if not even a drop could be wasted.

"Swallow." he orders hoarsely, voice not his

(I have found memories that are not mine

I have only one name but at least a hundred identities)

but you do it anyway, as it's the only solution for you to be able to breathe normally again. You hear him giggling almost maniacally, but it doesn't last long because then he lowers himself to your height, stroking the skin of your cheek with

(hunger)

sweetness, a lopsided smile on his lips.

"Bet you liked it, huh? Sooooo greedy, my Y/n." he takes your chin between his fingers again, this time squeezing harder than before, with less care, the tip of his tongue, which for a moment seems you strangely pointed, emerges between his lips when he moistens them in anticipation.

"You're gonna try to be loyal to me, yeah? You can do it, doll. I will give you all that you need, just say you'll serve me. Say you will sell your soul to me and I won't leave you alone... Do you like the idea? Yes?" he gets up, tugging his pants up and leaving you on the floor like a wet and used rag. Without even giving you time to speak. The both of you already know what your answer would have been. You realize only now that, since when have you set foot in the house, you still haven't said a single word to him.

—

feedbacks always appreciated

[requests open for headcanons too!!]

#it 2017 #pennywise #pennywise the clown #pennywise x reader #it (stephen king) #pennywise headcanon #fanfiction #fanfic #pennywise x you #it fanfiction #pennywise the dancing clown #it movie #clownlove #it fandom #ao3feed

[frootloopscos]

Welcome to the Villians’ World (7)

So sorry ya'll! I haven't really had any motivation to write for this fic for a while 😅

~~~~~~

PREVIOUSLY

After (Y/n) was taken care of by Crewel again, but to the adults anger at Crowley. They, Ace, Deuce, and Grim all stood in the Mirror Champer after they had volunteered to help the boys with their punishment. "Man, how did I end up in this mess? I swear, I have the worst luck." Ace said rubbing the nape of his neck. "We don't have time to complain. Let's go," Deuce said before turning to the mirror. "Dark Mirror! Take us to the Dwarfs' Mine!" The mirror lights up and the three of them enter one of the coffins to be transported to the Dwarfs' Mine.

NOW. . .

Opening their eyes the two students and one Demon Slayer were treated by a forest, a dirt path leading to a seemingly abandoned cottage. (Y/N) hummed crossing their arms, 'this is exactly the type of environment that demons would thrive in. . .' They thought to themself before hearing Deuce speak up, "so this is the Dwarfs' Mine. . . Long ago, this mine was flush with magestones." He said skeptically looking through the trees. Grim groaned, his ears flattening to his head as he spoke. "Urgh. . .Who knows what lurks in there now?"

Ace smiled, "who cares, we have the body guard with three swords with us! Look, I can see a house. Let's see what the people there have to say." (Y/N) shook their head, "it looks abandoned, I doubt anyone lives here." They said as the group approached, the Slayer leading with a hand on the blade at their waist. Opening the door Deuce called out into the dusty building, "hellooo? Is anyone home. . .? Must be empty. It looks like it's been abandoned." He frowned as (Y/N) relaxed slightly, "I told you." They said crossing their arms.

"Bwah! I got a spider web on my face!" Grim yelled before spitting and stuffing to get the spider web off his fur. "Hey, look how tiny these desks and chairs are. Did children live here?" Ace asked as he ran a hand across the back of one of the short wooden chairs. He began to count how many there were before his eyes widened, "seven?! It's like a clown car in here." Deuce hummed, "when the mine was flourishing, this house must have been a lively place."

"Well, this isn't getting us anywhere. If we're gonna find a magestone, it'll be inside the mine. Let's head inside and take a look." Ace said making (Y/N) nod and begin leading their group down the path ahead to a cave-like entrance. "This must be the mine entrance." They stated unsheathing their sword, Grim looked on in shock. "You wanna go inside there? It's pitch black!" Ace smirked at the cat, "what are you scared of the dark kitty? Pretty pathetic."

"Ace." (Y/N) stated as a warning, sending the red-head a glare as Grim boasted that he wasn't scared of anything. "I'm taking the lead! You all follow me!" He declared boldly. "Not happening Grim." (Y/N) said before once again leading the boys into the cave. It was dark, but from the light outside the humans were able to see colorful stones lodged in the walls of the caves. "Hold up!" Deuce said causing (Y/N) to stop in their tracks and turn to him. "What now?" Ace asked sending a glare to his dorm mate. "There's something there!" Deuce stated pointing ahead.

(Y/N) looked to where Deuce had pointed and to their surprise, he was right. There were ghosts wearing cloaks similar to the one that Franky (one of the ramshackle ghosts that (Y/N) named) had given them to wear today. They had politely declined and chose to hang it in their closet instead. One of the ghosts laughed, "visitors! The first we've had in ten years!" The second ghost agreed, "do make yourselves at home. . .You can stay forever!"

(Y/N) glared at the ghosts, their grip on their sword tightening as they inhaled slowly. "Flame Breathing, Second Form: Rising Scorching Sun." They said before slashing at the ghosts in an upward vertical motion causing the group to see a line of flames scorching across the ghosts causing them to shriek and vanish from sight. Ace looked at (Y/N) in shock, "what was that?!" He yelled at them, "calm down. We don't have much time, they are likely to come back. We need to continue down the mine if the two of you don't wish to be expelled." They said before turning to the back of the tunnel hearing a voice.

". . .iiivvv. . .  . . .oooouuu. . ." (Y/N)'s eyes widened, "quiet, there's something in here." They said making all three males look at them in shock. "Wh-what do you mean?" He asked before the voice spoke again, ". . .neeevvvaaa. . .  . . .iiivvv. . .  . . .ooouuu. . ." Deuce froze, "y-you guys heard that right? It sound like. . .It's close. . ." (Y/N) stood protectively in front of the students as stomping echoed through the walls. "Stooonesss. . . Stooonesss aaare miiiiine!" The voice yelled as a monster-esque being stomped into view.

"Demon." (Y/N) said with a glare, "you!" They yelled looking to the teens behind them, "get out of here quick!" The males all yelled in shock and quickly began to run away, (Y/N) quickly tried to distract it before running after them. Using their Flame Breathing in attempt to try and keep it away from their group. Deuce seemed to come to the conclusion he couldn't let (Y/N) do this alone and began to fire spells at the monster as they attacked it with their Flame Breathing. "I refuse to be expelled!" He yelled in defiance.

TO BE CONTINUED

~~~~~~~~

Hey everyone! Sorry it took so long for me to update this story, as I said before I didn't really have motivation to write.

Word Count: 964

Date Published to Wattpad: April 25th, 2024

Date Published to Tumblr: April 25th, 2024

Edited: n/a

#twisted wonderland #twst #frootloopscoswrites #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #dire crowley #twisted wonderland au #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland demon slayer crossover #kimetsu no yaiba #twst ace #ace trappola #Twisted wonderland ace #twst deuce #deuce spade #twisted wonderland deuce #grim (twst) #grim twst #grim twisted wonderland #grim

[buggyswritingcorner]

NSFW RHAENYRA TARGARYEN ALPHABET

masterlist

Hiii Buggy here lol

I hope you enjoy this as I spent 45 minutes pondering it

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Rhaenyra likes to be taken care of, that is not to say she won't treat her partner properly and wash their hair for them in the copper bath. Only that she enjoys a good after massage or lots of kisses and reassurance in the form of sweet words and light touches everywhere you can reach.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Rhaenyra likes her waist and hips most, she loves staring at the soft dip at her sides, admiring them in the mirror before dressing for the day

Loves! your thighs you cannot tell me she doesn't lay her head onto your thighs any chance she gets. Also loves your neck and collarbones, she deems them very soft, elegant and lovable.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Loves seeing your face flushed and smeared with her arousal between her thighs.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

One time when she was younger before you two secretly courted, she found a book in the library. It was obviously left forgotten in some dusty corner. She picked it up and opened it immeadiately looking around so noone could see what she had found. Her eyes scanned the pages filled with sketches of people in positions had never heard of. Her thoughts flitted to you and that night she brought the book to her chambers. She flipped through the pages imagining yourselves upon the bed naked as you were born exploring each other.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

She's a princess I think it goes eithout saying she doesn't know much. But she is a wilful and dutiful student. If you show her something, she's already tucking away information about how it made her feel in the corners of her mind to use it on you next time.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

She'd never admit it as she likes to seem dominant and in control, but she loves sitting on your lap. More so in between your legs, her back pressed against your chest with your hand burried deep inside of her. Her head is lolling on your shoulder in complete exctacy and comfort.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

She's goofy and energetic. Something about having you so close especially when you both have to keep it a secret is so exilirating. She makes jokes and giggles when you harden your gaze in not so serious disappointment.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Her hair is just as silvery and smooth. She doesn't do much to it unless you ask her to.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Again not much seriousness going on. But she does make sure to show you just how deep the roots of her love are. Whispering words of encouragement and kissing your hair when the moment is right.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Before you two got intimate she wasn't even really aware that a woman can orgasm. One time where you were running errands she remembered how you had her touching herself upon your command. She had tried desperately to do the same to relieve herself of the tingling sensation. Unfortunately her fingers were far too clumsy and got tired after getting used to having you do it for her. And now without even your presence and sweet voice to usher her on she was left unsatisfied. Once you returned she pulled you into her chambers and begged you not to leave her again.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Fighting for dominance. I can see her trying to be on top a lot. She pretends she doesn't like it when you easily flip her on her back caging her hands in one of yours. No matter your strength she will usually let you win so she can enjoy the smirk forming on your face. Unless you are strong enough - in those cases she thrashes around in an attempt to flip the dynamic. Pouting adorably when she realizes you won't let it happen so easily.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Probably her bedroom most -just to be safe. Sometimes you get adventurous and whilst flying over westeros see a beautiful valley or even white cliffs overlooking the great blue and decide to land for a few hours. There under the blue skies you mark your love as eternal.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

You. Genuinely. Just you existing. The sway of your hair as you pass by her. The fresh smell of your laundry catching her attention. You, reading in the gardens, bitting your lips in concentration. Playing eith your rings or necklaces. She immeadiately thinks of what your beautiful hands can do. And how she would love to bite the soft flesh where your neck and shoulder connects.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

mommykink - the wound is too deep and too fresh, she doesn't want to think of her mother during the act

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

She's inexperienced so the first few times are a bit clumsy but pleasurable none the less. After some time she learns the way your body speaks and knows just which keys to press to make your body sing precious melodies. She loves giving and watching your face contort in pleasure. But when you have her on her back in the tousled sheets, her hands gripping anything she can reach be it the headboard or your hair - that is when she swears her unending love to the gods.

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

The first few times are definitely slower and more assuring. Making sure to love each others bodies and not hurt the other. After you get more comfortable the both of you start bringing ideas of how to bring more excitement into the bedroom.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Enjoys the thrill of meeting in some lone corner of the Red Keep exchanging sweet kisses, hands roaming as far as the tight fashion of King's Landing allows. Licking your slick off her fingers stealthily before walking out into the grand halls with flushed cheeks and a grin, adoring the quick moments, the closeness and the way those secret love affairs deepen your bond.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Very risky, she's not one to shy away before the gaze of the public. Many times you have to stop her from getting carried away. Clasping her hands tightly as a warning sign. She also loves experimenting in the bedroom, always bringing new ideas sprouting from the court ladies' gossip.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Usually about 2-3 when she does the strenuous parts. Once you take over and let her rest she's ready for more. She's a bit of a bratty pillow princess.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Toys are definitely a new concept to her. So when you introduce them into the bedroom for the first time she's a bit apprehensive, fearing she may not have done good enough job pleasing you. You quickly shut down those thoughts of insecurity when you show her how pleasurable toys can be and she is hooked. Doesn't want them all the time, sometimes prefering to enjoy your warmth and simplicity.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

She's a proper bitch, whispering compliments into your ears when you're in public, running her hand across the low of your back when nobody is watching. Or even undoing a decorative ribbon on your dress. But once you give in and touch her in the right places she's purring like a kitten, leaning into your body practically begging you to love her right.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

She's the heir thus she can be as loud as she wants to, of course she remains silent enough as to not raise suspicion with the guard standing at the opposite side of her bedroom door

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Rhaenyra is very proud of her looks so it's no suprise she spends long hours on dragonback toning her muscles, even with a saddle i imagine it's a strain to hold on. Her pussy is a pretty pink shade.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

The blood of a dragon fuels passion like none other, she has always been expressive in her needs but after you started getting intimate expect it to be 20x worse or rather better?

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not too fast, she likes laying her head onto your chest and running her fingers along your collarbones listening to your soft breaths, loves when you wrap your arms around her and trace patterns along her back

#rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #hotd #headcannons #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #oneshot

[imarvelatthestars]

Fondness

Pairings: Clone Trooper Veteran Tai (from Kenobi) x f!Reader

Warnings: Tai has PTSD flashbacks, mutual pining, awkward tension

Notes: I think this chapter will be a much better one just because I finally watched TCW. Shout out to Rex, who got way more mentions than I had planned but that's okay because I love him.

[previous chapter] [next chapter]

In all his years, after all the shit he's been through, he never imagined anything quite like this. He never imagined kindness quite like this. But then again, Tai had never met anyone like you before either. This realization doesn't keep his head from spinning, though, because now he's in your space, standing awkwardly in the entrance to the shithole you and a hundred other people call home. White walls stained beige with age, a floor that creaks every time you shift or step, windows that allow a disheartening view of the neighboring building and little else. It's crummy and probably falling apart, but it's better than anything he's had in at least seven years. He's not complaining.

"Sorry for the mess," you say a little shyly as you start bustling about the place, picking up trash and discarded clothes and wholly avoiding his eyes. "I don't really have people over."

Better than the dumpster I've been sleeping under, he wants to say. But that would be rude. And he knows you're trying to be polite, trying to put your best foot forward, and he appreciates it. And you. Definitely you.

"I don't have an extra room or a bed or anything, but I have a couch. And lots of blankets and pillows." You're going through a cupboard in the hall now. "I can turn the air on. Or the heat. I dunno what you prefer, but we can make it work." And something grabs Tai by the heart and refuses to let go because there's that 'we' again. The one that makes his chest feel tight. "Whatever you need to be comfortable."

He blinks and you're standing in front of him, eyes big and wide and shining in the sliver of light coming over his shoulder from the window. The two of you are caught for a moment in the gentle electricity humming between you. It's cautious and unsure, a little reserved and a little exciting, like you shouldn't be opening up your home to him and he shouldn't have accepted, like he shouldn't even be here. It registers vaguely in the back of the head that he's probably right. You don't know him, not really, and he doesn't really know you, no matter how much he pretends he does. And he's old enough now to be finding gray in his beard and at his temples. So what the hell is he doing here, what is he doing with you, the sweetest thing he's ever encountered? He feels like a creep.

But all of that passes when you smile. It wipes his mind clean. You turn to drop the sheets on the arm of the sofa, start unfolding them and throwing them over the cushions.

"I can-"

"I got it," you counter before he can even stop you. "I don't mind. You can make yourself at home, Tai. Get a drink, take a shower, whatever you want."

It takes him more breaths than he'd care to admit for his brain to catch up to his ears and his heart. He's so kriffing nervous here, taking up precious space in your home, tracking the grime of the city into your floor, and he knows that this is a gift that can be taken back. He's earned this privilege and he can lose it in a blink. So he decides to let you do this for him, just this once, if only to give himself some space and time to clear his head.

The bathroom is fucking tiny. The walls are crowding in on him before he even closes the door. The mirror is dirty with water spatters and steam streaks, the counter a little dusty in the corners, but you're everywhere in here - from the vase and fake flowers to the spread of cutely labeled products and the carpeted mat under his feet. Which reminds him to take his shoes off, which then prompts him to shuck off his armor and let his body breathe.

The man staring back at him in the mirror is both familiar and a stranger. He remembers that jawline looking sharper at one point, his skin smoother and firmer, but he also remembers the day he got the scar on his chin. He remembers the last day he saw Rex, remembers a string of images that make him want to pluck his eyes out just to quiet the way padawan blood screamed at him from the ground, remembers the day the Empire replaced him with a faceless, unfeeling Stormtrooper, remembers the first time he held out his helmet and begged for scraps. And before he even realizes it, he's stepping into the shower and basking in the shivering cold of the water. Maybe it'll wash away the black marks on his soul he's earned over the years. He can hope, at least.

٠ ¤ ٠ ¤ ٠ ¤ ٠

Tai feels more levelheaded when he gets out of the shower. He doesn't look at the mirror. He does, however, notice a slip of paper half stuck to the floor with the residual steam and his heart does a weird little flip when he reads it. There is indeed a stack of clothes and a crate for his armor just outside the door. He can tell with just a look that the sweatpants won't fit him, but the shirt, a striped and faded mess of cotton wearing thin at the bottom seam, fits well enough and he makes a point of not noticing how it smells like you.

The sofa is made up like a bed in a palace, or as close as you can manage. The sheets are threadbare but soft, lightly scented with citrus, and he swears there's half a dozen pillows piled up in the corner. You've left out a glass of water and lit a candle, too.

He doesn't let himself cry until he double checks that you are in your room with your door closed. How has he deserved this? He's fallen so far. He was once a proud soldier of the Republic. Now the Republic is dead and so are most of his brothers. He doesn't even know if there are any left. What would they say if they could see him now, living on the streets of an empty, soulless planet, huddled in some civilian's apartment like a rat? It's embarrassing, shameful. Rex would have his head for this, surely- except... Except he knows that's not quite true. He knows that Rex, soldier though he was, would never have judged him. Rex would have tried to help him.

He looks down the hallway where a sliver of light shines out from beneath your door and he almost dares to smile. Rex would have liked you, he thinks.

٠ ¤ ٠ ¤ ٠ ¤ ٠

One night turns into two. You're not used to having anyone in your space quite like this, certainly not a man, so it's awkward. You keep having to remind yourself not to leave your more feminine products out in the open where it might startle him. And even though you have no reason to believe Tai would ever be in your room, you make sure to hide your personal effects in there too. Just in case. Best not to give him the wrong idea. But it's okay, it works, the two of you.

Two nights turn into a week. Tai's efforts to leave the following morning are growing weaker every day and your requests for him to stay become more and more persuasive. You know it would be best for him to go, more logical, safer even. But you feel safer having him around.

And maybe, just maybe some selfish part of you wishes he would never have to leave. You choose not to delve into the reason why.

A week becomes a month and you come home from work one evening to find Tai passed out on the sofa, snoring away as usual. It sucks that your schedules are so opposite with him heading off to work right after you get home, but sometimes it's not so bad. Sometimes you come home early and you get to see him like this. The stress and age and trauma doesn't weigh so heavily on his face when he sleeps.

You're grabbing a drink when you notice the pile of credits dropped onto the kitchen counter. It's not very much, but it's also not yours. Your eyes flicker in Tai's direction. Is this his monthly pay? Being a janitor in a dankhole like this place ought to pay more. He also needs a better place to put his money than on the counter, he'll end up losing some that way. You briefly wonder if he needs a wallet and if maybe you should get him one before you snap yourself out of it.

He's a grown man, you tell yourself, he can get his own damn wallet. You're not his mother. And if you'd been caught saying that out loud you might have sounded furious, but the only anger you can feel is directed solely at yourself. Because you're letting yourself fall too deep and too fast for a man who is still a stranger in many ways.

You shake your head and take your things with you into your room, careful to close the door as quietly as you can manage. You don't want to wake him, but you also don't want to face him. Not now. Not with the too many thoughts buzzing around in your brain. Not when you're realizing just how much you think you might love him.

٠ ¤ ٠ ¤ ٠ ¤ ٠

" 's for you, y'know," he gruffs the following afternoon.

You look up from the stove, over your shoulder, and frown. "Huh?"

He nods his head at the pile of credits that still haven't moved. "For rent."

The galaxy spins around you for a moment. He took money out of his probably terribly paying job to help you with rent? Seriously?

You stumble over your own mouth while your brain plays catch up. "Tai... You didn't have to do that."

He shrugs and doesn't look at you. "Figured I used enough hot water to warrant a bill."

His smile is faint, but you can still see the outline of it. You wish he'd smile more. He looks so pretty when he smiles. And then you wonder what he thinks of your smile, if he even thinks of it at all. Does Tai think of you the way you think of him?

"Saw an apartment opening up downtown." His voice slices through your thoughts violently enough to completely shatter them. Your entire body feels like it's been dunked in ice water. "Thought I might have a look."

He wants to leave? Ice cold panic grips you by the base of your spine as you start cataloging through the last few days, trying to find any moment, any second glance that he could have interpreted wrongly. Because why else would he want to leave when you've tried so hard to make your home welcoming to him?

"Don't want to overstay my welcome."

And your anxiety calms a hair. Okay, so maybe you were jumping to conclusions for a second there.

You rest your hip against the cupboard. "You could never. You haven't." You glance back at your food as if it'll protect you from your own heart. "You can... You can stay here as long as you want to, Tai. Or as short as you want. Whatever you want. But you'll never wear out your welcome."

Well, that's about as close to a confession as you can safely get. Not that you were trying to confess anything, not that you have anything to confess. Even though you know that's a kriffing lie.

The kitchen goes stale with your shared silence. The wheels in Tai's head are turning so fiercely that you can hear them working. You're sure he can hear your heartbeat by now. Thank the Maker he can't hear your thoughts. And then-

"There's a bar by the market. I think it's called Spice. Have you ever been?"

You blink through your confusion. "I don't think so."

You blink again and suddenly Tai is standing, coming around to your side of the kitchen until he's all you can see. There's that blaster shot right through your chest again because he's closer now than he's been the past month. He smells faintly like your shampoo and his own natural musk and dank farrik, that's just not fair.

"Come with me tonight? Do you have work?"

"No. Yes. I mean-." You're so breathless, you can't get your words out in the right order. You laugh and have to turn your head to avoid the intensity of his gaze in order to focus. "I mean, no, I don't have work, yes, I'd love to go with you."

٠ ¤ ٠ ¤ ٠ ¤ ٠

It's strange to be handing over credits in exchange for liquor. The GAR never paid their troopers and neither did the Empire, so the only alcohol he ever got his hands on was the free crap 79's handed out. Not that this place offers anything better, but this time he can actually pay for it with credits he's earned himself. And he can buy some for you, too.

The speakers are playing some upbeat, young person tune he's never heard before and the lights are flashing 50 different shades of neon across your face. It hurts his eyes a little and it's another reminder that he's not the young clone he once was and this isn't 79's. He's not on Coruscant anymore, Fives isn't chatting up some attractive civvy just around the corner, Jesse and Tup aren't hurling their guts out in the bathroom, Rex isn't nursing a drink in a corner booth. It's just him. In a dive bar on Daiyu. He's a janitor. He's homeless. And you're here with him, brightening up the space around you with just a smile and that tipsy twinkle in your eyes. It hurts, but it's manageable. Entirely because of you.

You down your third drink of the night with a giggle and a burp, turning on your bar stool so you're facing him properly with your knees splayed. They frame his legs just right. Tai pretends this one simple movement doesn't light a raging fire in the pit of his stomach. He tells himself it's the alcohol sending heat through his veins. Definitely not because you're fluttering your eyelashes at him. Because he's not the young man he used to be. He's a dirty old man. He's lucky just to be allowed to bask in your presence. He's lucky you haven't figured out he has it bad for you and that you haven't kicked him out as a result. You're just drunk, he tells himself. He's drunk too. That's all it is.

That's all it is until it's suddenly so much more. "Come on!" you exclaim with a smile that could hang the stars in the sky. You're tugging him out onto the dance floor, you're holding his hands, you're kriffing touching him like it's the most normal thing you could be doing. And Maker, he'd go anywhere you asked, do anything you wanted if you looked at him like that. "Dance with me!" you shout over the music, shuffling yourself even closer to make sure he can hear you.

He's shaking his head like an idiot, arms withdrawn and poised mid-air. "No, I can't-"

"Dance with me, Tai." You look up at him through your lashes and smile a smile he doesn't think he's ever seen on you. "I want to dance with you."

He swallows. Hard. "You're drunk."

"So?"

"So." Quick, trooper, think of something! "You wouldn't be asking me if you were sober."

"That's just 'cause I'm shy," you laugh and your hand runs up his arm to his shoulder. A shudder runs through him at your touch. "I wouldn't ask you if I was sober, but I'd still want to. So dance with me."

Your hand presses against his cheek right where his scruff is growing in and his eyes slip shut for the briefest of moments. He's not at 79's, he's not young anymore, but for this one moment he can pretend that doesn't matter. He can pretend that this night is everything he wants it to be. So he takes you in his arms like he's the confident young trooper he was so many years ago and he dances with you to music he's never heard before. And he lets himself love you, even if just for the night.

#clone trooper x reader #clone trooper veteran #kenobi clone trooper #clone trooper veteran x reader #clone trooper tai #star wars #i was gonna have them kiss this chapter but i changed my mind again. just let the story take me where it wanted to go #i really like how this turned out! i hope you guys like it too

[evermetnotforgotten]

content warnings: explicit (drunk) consensual sex, alcohol

It's the fourth time his phone flashes that he realises—shit, it's a call, not a text. Graham doesn't need to hear a voice to know that his late-night caller has taken a trip down the neck of a bottle tonight, but as soon as he does, it’s crystal clear.

"Heeey."

Stifling a sigh Graham rubs his cheek, his jaw. He suppresses the ‘bit early to have reached the bottom, isn't it?’ "Hey, Lev."

"M'lonely." The sound of something soft hitting the floor—a pillow, a pile of clothes. "Y'should come over."

"I don't think that's a great idea."

"Why not?"

The last time had felt like a damn trap—couple hours of everything they'd both wanted and needed at the time, sure, but the unfiltered regret that had seeped from every corner of Lev the morning after had been just… unbearable. Even if Graham couldn't exactly blame him. Felt the same way.

"Please?" It's part whine, part slur. "I haven't had that much. I'm so… so, so, sober."

Graham highly, highly doubts that. "What're you drinking?"

"Cap'n Morgan. I think?"

"You think."

"Definitely. Maybe."

Yeahhh. "With?"

The tink of a glass. "Was coke… but…" But now straight. Maybe straight from the bottle. 

"Could you have a glass of water or something maybe? You know… take care of yourself?"

A chuckle, low and husky. "Why don't you?"

Frowning, Graham adjusts his grip on the phone, bitter at the thrill that still hits him at a line like that. A line from him. He knows he should roll his eyes and just end the damn call, but the little voice in his head mad at being fucked with is easy to drown out.

"Lev… c'mon."

"You c'mon. Come here." More insistent this time. Less of a question, more of a statement of inevitability. "Come over."

Graham should say no. Needs to say no, for both their sakes. "I've got an early start," he tries—not all of them get wired money to support themselves with every week. Some of them have to work.

"Please?"

He should say no. Instead, he lets the sigh out before it swells enough to suffocate him. It doesn't help that tonight his ex is being especially persistent. 

"Or… I could do it." A beat. "Would you like that?"

Over the line he hears the sound of bare feet on tiles. The scraping open of a door, or drawer. A clattering and clunking, and then a little whoa, fuck as someone tries to steady himself while the room's rotation shifts from clockwise to counter. 

When Graham starts to piece things together, he attempts an intercept. "Okay, hey… you are really, really hammered right now—definitely too much to drive. And I don't want you to not talk to me for weeks after because of something you regret. Uh… it's fine that you called, but I really think that you should go to bed. I can call you in the morning, if you want."

"Mmm."

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Mhmm. Keep talking."

"Yeah cool, so you're not."

"I am."

"Do not drive here."

"M'not."

"Put the keys back."

The response he gets at that is a deep sigh, which curls into a little moan. Immediately, Graham feels all the warm spots on his body start to prickle, alert all at once. He's put the wrong pieces together—or put the pieces together wrong.

Oh, fuck. Oh he’s definitely done it up wrong.

"You're…"

“Told you—” and a thrilling little hitch of the breath. “I could bring it to you. Don't have to go anywhere."

The little bloop of his text tone sounds, and there's not a single thought in Graham's brain as he pulls the phone away from his ear to look at the screen, makes a bewildered little noise at the image there. Lev, framed by the bathroom mirror. Hair wet, shaping his face. Eyes heavy lidded, mouth slightly open, shirt unbuttoned. One hand up holding his phone, the other hand down, holding his—

"Did I lose you?"

He brings the voice back to his ear. 

"Fuuuuck, Lev," he murmurs, eyes staring blankly at the dusty ceiling fan. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Those scars… he's kissed and licked along those neat little rows so many times before, and now he can't get every time that he's ever done such to stop playing in his mind. Every time he's massaged those shoulders, tight from stress. Every time he's taken one of those nipples into his mouth to tease it. And every time he's felt that cock press his tongue down, gently nudge the back of his throat.

“I need you.”

And there’s the little voice again. Just a little voice. This isn’t fair. But in spite of it, Graham is already fisting himself through his lounge pants, leaning his phone on his shoulder and the back of the couch in favour of biting the knuckles of his other hand. As he closes his eyes he can see the curve where hip transitions to thigh, feel the trace of fingers across his pecs, watch the other hand reaching back and down. Feel the other man's body, flush and warm, from chest to pelvis.

Can’t let him hear how this is affecting him, though. Would be a transgression. He bites his cheek to keep quiet.

"You thinking about me?"

Hesitation. Then surrender. "Yes," Graham admits.

"Naked?"

Excitement. Arousal. Fear. "Yes."

A shift through the phone, a breath. “On top of you?”

It wasn’t the first thing that had come to mind. And maybe that’s better, actually, somehow. Makes him feel like less of a predator. “Inside me.”

Another moan, and this time it sounds close enough for the wisp of breath to lick along the inside of his ear. It's followed up by a breathy “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Fuck, yeah.

"God…" The delicate crack in Lev's voice makes his whole body sing. "Love that. Spread you out on the bed. Grab you. Haah…"

A minute or so of play, but then he loses momentum. What is he doing? Not while he's drunk.

Lev seems to cotton on. "What's the matter? Not enough for you?"

"This… isn't good." 

"Why?"

"I think you should go to bed. Sorry."

The rhythm of breathing on the other end of the phone pauses, leaving only silence. "Fine. I'll call Eli."

"Who's Eli?"

"Yeah, you don't get to ask that." Not angry, just disappointed. "Sorry for bothering you. G'night."

"Wait." Graham grasps at a reason, anything to keep the call going. Eli could be anyone—a hookup, most likely, but equally likely an asshole. A weirdo. A stranger taking advantage of a drunk, lonely guy. A guy who is going to hang up on him at any second…

Fuck it. He's already going to hell.

"Don't, uh. Don't do that. l'll be there in twenty."

-

Busy buttoning his shirt, Lev is turned away. Still, his tone is soft. Genuine. Not steeped in shame.

"Do you wanna grab something to eat? Or… coffee? Um. Unless you've gotta run."

Graham's head is throbbing—for the life of him, doesn't know how he ever used to put away that much tequila in his early twenties and still live the next day—and his mouth is dry. He puts a hand over his eyes to shield them from the crack of morning light through Lev's bedroom curtains. 

He's wanted nothing more than a coffee with him for almost a year, now. But for the first time, Graham doesn't reach towards, but away. Needs to tell him. He slowly swings his legs over the side of Lev's bed.

"I'm… seeing someone. Actually."

For a long moment, there's no response. "Oh."

"We're not quite exclusive yet, so, but… yeah." Not a great sell for a new lady, a drunken one night stand with his ex. That said, Eleanor might be one of the least judgemental people he's ever met—bar Niels, maybe. She'd get it.

"Oh. Um. Sorry."

"It's okay."

Lev turns his head, but still won't look at him. The telltale signs of a closing door are inching steadily across. "I shouldn't have called. Didn't know I was getting you in trouble."

"She knows," Graham replies. "She knows there's a person in my past who I have some shared… complicated stuff, with. Nothing sensitive."

The unfortunate phrasing triggers many half-expressions to flicker across Lev's face in rapid fire.

"Shit…"

"Hey, it's okay, really."

A snap. "No it's not." Just as quick, an ease off. "It's not okay. I can't just…"

Graham would have gone to him. Six months ago, he would have thrown himself down on his knees and offered himself, all of himself, up to Lev if he wanted him back. 

But right now, he's just disappointed in Lev for not asking for him sooner. And in himself, for knowing, and for coming over anyway.

"Thanks. Sorry, uh. Forget I asked. You should… go."

He dresses in silence. Doesn't turn back around at the little sniff, even though he knows exactly the acute distress about to be felt in this room.

Has felt it himself, after all.

#lgm writing #lev johnson #graham pierce #drunk sex tw #alcohol tw #angst #sorry for the sudden flurry i'm trying to finish a few things #for once

[deanwax]

Find the Word Tag

Cheers for the tag, @ahordeofwasps! My words are mend, metal, mere, and manage.

No presh tag 2 @bones-and-rainbows @joeys-piano @dyrewrites @andromeda-grace and @wmlittlemore-is-writing

Your words are: fire, water, earth and wind.

let's goo

Mend

His eyes snap open on the third step. I can see the whites of his sclera gleaming in the dim light. My lips twitch as I look back at him. “I appear to have lost my footing,” I whisper, chuckling at my own wordplay. The relief it brings me is fleeting. My smirk already begins to sour as I crawl the rest of the way to Shins’ bedside. The way I kneel before him is almost beseeching. He can’t speak to me, of course. But I can speak to him, words to be locked away in the void of his non-communication. Like whispering sweet nothings into the abyss. “I never cared for my feet,” I confess. “Not in the emotional sense.” My eyes dart away briefly. The tar of puns is sticky. “I suppose I appreciated the practice of mending their wounds, but the pain was… unpleasant.” And the memories of ballet practice were… something else entirely. I look back into his eyes with renewed exhilaration, high on the thrill of confession. “And they were so ugly. Hideous. You never saw them, but if you had, you’d agree.”

Metal

The doors are very loud when they open: the warehouse is an echoing concrete space, the kind of dusty that has a grit to it, suggesting manufacturing. The only furnishings, however, pillars and rafters excluded, are a few husks of crates and buckets, two portable lamps on metal tripods, and one large pane of mirror propped up on an X frame. Strung up before this mirror, surrounded by a handful of Michaels Boys ranging in demeanor from disgruntled to harried, is one disgraced Caporegime. His hands are tied behind his back and there is a black cloth bag over his head. They have already removed his shirt.

Mere

Back in our bedroom, we have the door closed. I do not read aloud for fear of surveillance, but Shins has not asked me to, anyway. He seems interested merely in closeness, his head laying in the cradle of my crossed legs as I read above him. I removed my prostheses so the plastic would not jam into his shoulders.

Manage

"Ready!" Alistair's sing-song charges through my reverie as he returns to the room. My eyes widen when I see him. I knew that Rigo had taken him to the tailor, but I had not known that Alistair had taken liberties with the order. He's wearing a suit, yes - but in powder blue. "Isn't it darling?" He asks, fixing the peak on an apricot pocket square.  I do not know what constitutes as 'darling' when it comes to apparel. "It is something," I remark dryly, still reeling from the sight of it. I manage to drag my eyes to Rigo. "Perhaps the familia will not notice my height after all." "I doubt that."

#tag games #writeblr #writing #deanwaxwrites #aure

[foomoosworld]

Stars Too Far

Chapter 2 - Blinkey

Pairing: Mandalorian X Fem reader

Summary: The Mandalorian chases a bounty onto a deadly planet and finds himself stranded with a mysterious woman

Please note: this episode contains fluff, smut and violence so minors DNI.

The next morning Din was woken up by a warm beam of light from the dusty, circular window in the loft.  He managed to sit up and slowly and rigidly, grasping his stiff, bandaged ribs then make his way down the loft ladder into the main room.  

The ship engine parts stacked on shelves floor to ceiling made the room smell of old oil and must.  There was only one window.  

“Hello?” He called out as he slowly limped and turned to look around the room to see where you were.  It was completely silent in the cabin.  That was when he heard the faint muffled splashing of water from outside.

There was a small window over what looked to once be a working sink that was now over flowing with rusty wires and other assorted knobs and buttons gathered from ships. He walked up and looked out into the pleasant daylight sunshine that drenched the forest as if to make it less deadly.  It was a beautiful day outside and though he realized the sunshine was creating a false sense of hope for the actions of the day that had to be completed, he took the lie at face value and smiled under his helmet.  Things, at least, in that exact moment, in the sunlight and bright green forest and colourful flowers, were simple.

His problem,was simply,that he looked right rather than left.

When he turned his head to the right to find the source of the splashing sound he paused then diverted his eyes as if a bomb had gone off in that direction.

It was you.  Bathing in a small hot spring.

He shamefully took a step back.  Then couldn’t help but jerk his eyes back up for another glance.

You were waist high in the steamy water, scrubbing away the dirt from the previous day and revealing your blush pink skin, now trailing with slow streams of lathery bubbles from the soap.  You lathered your hair in your long, perfect fingers then paused and slowly descended into the water to rinse off.  A moment later you came up with a gasp, rubbing the water from your eyes.

Din looked away shamefully.

His body was betraying him.  He was suddenly hard against his flight suit,  

This had never happened before.  He had his needs and they were usually filled with one night stands or brothels.  Usually they had to do something to get him aroused. He was taken aback that all he had to do was look at you and he was uncontrollable. From 50 feet away.

“This is a problem” he thought and moved away from the window.  Din limped through the room, gingerly still feeling the throbbing of his wounds and yet, more engulfed by the throbbing in his loins.  He saw a flimsy wood door slightly ajar and pushed it open to find the cabin’s Fresher.  He quickly shut the door behind him and went to turn on the fresher but nothing but whining pipes and a spurt of dusty air came out from the shower head.  He sighed in frustration and palmed the sink with both hands, shifting his weight against it and stared up at himself in the mirror, covered in cobwebs.

The sight of your ivory breasts and pert rose nipples flashed in front of his vision.  He gruffly reached down and palmed his hard cock overtop of his flight suit.  He needed to take care of this.

As perfect timing would have it, he heard the front door of the cabin creak open and slam shut with your entrance.

“Hello?” Your voice echoed through the cabin.

Apparently, now would not be the time.

He slowly opened the fresher door and stood like a guilty child staring at you in a moth-eaten blanket you were using as a towel to cover your naked body.

You both stare at each other in a stand off across the room at each other for far too long.

“Did you see me?” You finally ask.

Din hesitates, crossing his arms and cooly leaning up against the door frame of the fresher.

“See you what?” he asks.

You pad across the room in your bare feet and stop in front of him, still clutching the blanket, looking accusingly, but teasingly, into his visor, then simply grab the ladder next to him on the wall and expertly clamber up towards the loft with your blanket falling to the ground without a word, but a sly smile.

As soon as you disappear into the loft Din releases his rigid stance and sighs relief and frustration.

“The fresher plumbing here doesn’t work anymore.”  You call down to him as you change into your clothes out of his sight.

“Uh… yeah…I noticed.” Din says, still trying to stomach how flustered he was.

“The underground pipes collapsed after the ground was softened in a flood and I didn’t know how to fix it.  All of the couplings and pipes have been smashed. You could literally grab a pipe in here and yank it out of the ground. My father was the plumber around here and he had passed at that point.”  You explain, “But there is a hot spring pool right outside you can bathe in.  It’s not toxic.  We’re far enough away from that crash that the water wasn’t affected in this hot spring.”

You expertly slide down that ladder as if you had done it a million times before and thump heavily on the ground next to Din.

“The water is poisonous?”  Din asks.

“Darling,” you smile,  “This is Sypar.  Everything is poisonous here… but yes, some of the water is drinkable…If I tell you it is.  However, a tie fighter crashed in a bog not far from here in a large hot spring.  The ship’s toxic power cells leaked into the ground, which boiled and then sent hazardous chemicals into the air. The thick canopy from the trees soaked up the radiation.  The trees became poisonous and exuded poisonous oxygen rather than filtering out Co2 like trees normally do.  Essentially, it’s made poisonous gas trees, with poisonous hot springs.  If you go through that part of the jungle and breathe in the air you won’t die immediately, but will have a slow and painful radiation death within a few days… weeks if you’re lucky. But if you try to cross the swamp on the rocks that lead to the crashed X-wing the radiation is too high there and you’ll die instantly. So best to give that swamp it a real wide berth.”

“Dank Ferrik…” Din whispers in horror.

“You’ll get used to it.”  You smile.

You pull down a drafting desk and ship parts clamber down onto the floor, that you don’t appear to care about, revealing a crude map that you’ve drawn.  Parts are in charcoal, parts are in crude crayon.  You sit down on a rickety chair and pull another one up next to yourself.  When Din doesn’t immediately sit down you pat the chair with an impatient look.  Din sits down.

“This,” you begin proudly, “Is my map of Sypar.  I’ve been making this map since I was 8 years old… hence some crayon in some parts.  But I think it adds artistic flair.” you joke and look up to Din with a grin.  He turns his helmet and stares at you emotionless.  “Ooookay then.  Not an art fan…” You continue, “This will show you where all the major dangers are, which is everywhere.”  You point to the map where there is a crude drawing of a Tie Fighter in a bog, “There, is where the poisonous bog is I told you about.”  You look up to make sure he’s paying attention and he nods at you in understanding, “This, is where I found you, where the Harkmon den is.  They don’t generally migrate out of this area unless you really piss them off.  If you see them, stab them in their functioning eyes.  They will often have numerous eyes because once one is damaged it becomes milky white, unusable, but they will grow another eye in another random area of their body to compensate for it.  The upside is that the very aggressive ones, usually have eyes in areas not very conducive to actually seeing straight since their original eyes were blinded.  The bad news is that they have some basic and crappy sonar radar and can navigate their rage quite well without seeing at all.”

“That’s what you saved me from?”  Din questioned.

“Yes.  That’s a very aggressive one I’ve battled numerous times.  I call him ‘Blinkey’”

Din stopped and turned his head to you in disbelief, “Blinkey?” He questions kind of disturbed.

“Sometimes trauma and loneliness makes weird friends.”  You say diving right back into the map.  “Here, here and here are vine bogs.  That’s what your Twi’lek friend succumbed to.  Here are dart cacti fields, and here are aphrodisiac daisies.”

“That’s the entire map.”  Din says in disbelief.

“Yes… have you not been listening when I said ‘everything here will kill you?” You stated. “I know what you’re thinking, how do we get to your ship in order to fix it?  Plantlife here hibernates at night except for phosphorescent algae.  So if we don’t use lanterns or any light source to get to where we need to go, we’re golden!   If we’re quiet and ensure we stay out of the Harkmon Den we should be able to transfer parts in the cover of night and fix your ship without a problem.”

“I was in that jungle for 45 minutes and I got completely turned around in daylight.  We don’t stand a chance with no light at all and at night.”  Din argues.

“Phosphorescent algae.”  I nod to him.  “It makes the whole jungle glow in the dark. We’re going to be fine.  We’ll find your ship.”

You jump up from the chair and move towards the front door of the cabin.

“I need to check my traps for food for tonight and tend to the garden.  Remember, do NOT go past the open field during daytime.  Clean yourself up in the hotspring and I’ll help you put on new bandages when I return in about an hour.” You salute him and leave, slamming the door behind you.

Din stands up and takes a look at the crude map drawn partially in toddler-like crayon and seems to evolve over all of it’s scrawl into proper writing and pictures.  This was a portrait of your trauma through the last decades.  He didn’t even want to think of it as your life.  You had lived in constant fear of everything with no contact from people other than your father.  That was when Din noticed a flower drawn amongst all of the horrid bloody animal depictions.  It said “Clara/Shay Roe Garaman” and it was within the boundaries of the cabin.

He pulls his eyes away from the map and peers across the room at the window that oversees the small hot springs.  Gingerly, he begins to peel off his old bandages and readies himself to bathe.

………….

You’re crouched in the crook of the trunk of a giant tree and it’s branch, seemingly hugging your body with its sharp bark.  Cautiously you look stories down to the ground where you see a large dead rodent caught in one of your traps.  Straightening your spine as the wind softly blows, you sniff the air.

“I don’t smell you, you fucking twelve eyed whore.” you whisper to yourself.

Slowly, you clamber down the tree, grab the trap, and strain to pull it’s metal teeth away from the rodent.

“You’re a fat one, aren’t you?” you praise the dead catch as you heave up it’s pear shaped, furry body to inspect it.

A strong roar reverberates from the distance.

“Dank Ferrik…” You whisper in shock and straighten up then take off running through the brush.

It sounds like a furious tidal wave is crashing through the trees behind you as you twist and turn and leap through the tangle of jungle trying to outrun the crashing and deafening sound.  There is one last ear piercing roar that radiates through your chest and knocks you from your footing before you are pounced on and skidded across ten feet of swamp land.  

The Harkmon towered over you as you struggled to dislodge yourself from the maze of vines that had woken up and were now slowly constricting you.

“No!”  you screamed pulling out your knife.  The Harkmon lashed it’s teeth at you and you tried to stab it’s closest eye, but it was milky white and no longer functional.  “No!” you raged again as you tried for another eye, but again failed to stab the correct one.  It raised a giant, matted, muddy leg full of talons and leaned in and breathed out a sudden whirlwind of angry breath upon your face as if to taunt you. 

 “Fuck you.” You snarled and spat into one of it’s useless eyes.  It’s talons came racing down upon you.

The Harkmon suddenly jolted back in pain before it could sink it’s claws into you.  You’re confused at first but then see The Mandalorian flying in the sky above it with one of the Harkmon’s eyeballs on the end of his vibroblade. 

The Harkmon shrieks in pain and retreats with earth-shaking foot falls to the cover of the forest.

Din lands next to you panting, shaking the eyeball off of his vibroblade.  He frantically places his hands on you, “Are you okay?” he pants.

“Yes.  Yes.  I’m fine.” You jolt out in terror trying to calm yourself.

After a few breaths, Din asks,

“Blinkey?” 

“Yeah…”  I say holding my knees and catching my own breath, “I told you they’re vindictive.”

“You’re sure you’re not hurt?”  Din questions again as he holds out a hand and helps you to your feet.

“Just my ego.” You moan shamefully and pull yourself to your feet.  However, as you take your first step you wince back in pain.

“Looks like more than just your ego.”  Din crouches down and pulls up your tattered pant leg.  As he gingerly touches it you wince again, “I think it’s just a sprain.”  Din puts his arm around your shoulder as you slowly start limping along out of the jungle.

“Wait, can’t we just use that cool flying gadget of yours?”  You ask looking over your shoulder at Din’s jet pack.

“It runs on fuel and I used it all on the way here.  I don’t have enough to get us back.”

You sigh and continue to limp, grasping Din as he helps you along,  “I hate it here.”

“Yep.”

Both of you walk the short way back to the cabin.

You sling the large rodent carcass you caught on a hook just outside of the cabin door and slice it so the blood drains into a large steel pot below.  You step inside to see Din collapse with an exhausted sigh into one of the two rickety chairs.

“That thing is edible?”  He asks suspiciously. 

You shrug, “Well, I don’t know if ‘edible’ is the right description for a Rous but it’ll do.”

Din shakes his head in disappointment then takes off his chest plate and drops it heavily on the ground beside him.  With a slow and calculating hand he grasps the fabric of his flight suit shirt and pulls it cautiously up.  He tries to look at his wound from the previous days but can’t quite swivel enough to see it.

“Your wounds aren’t dressed.”  you say looking at his lack of bandages.

“I was cleaning them when I heard you screaming.”

I nod.  “Come up to the loft.  I have some bandages and I’ll help you bandage up.  You’re not going to be able to reach them on your own.”

You help Din up to the loft where you instruct him to lay down on the bed.  As you go to reach for the bandages in an upper cupboard you realize you have Rous blood all over your sleeve from carrying the kill back to the house.  “Oh,” you say looking down at yourself with some disgust, “Let me just change my shirt.”  Before Din could look away you pull the dirty shirt off over your head and reach for a clean one.  His eyes widen and breath hitches in his throat as he looks you up and down as you fumble on your knees in the short loft with the clean shirt.  You look up and see his head turned and looking at you intently.  No helmet could hide the fact that he was taking in the sight of you shirtless and enjoying what he saw.

You tilt your head down to try to hide your blushing and nervous smile behind your long tangled hair then pull the clean shirt over your body.  Reaching next to you, you grab a large bowl and fill it with some warm water from the sink by the window and prepare a solution of warm water, saline and local plant medication and soak some homemade bandages in it.  Slowly and carefully balancing the large bowl of steaming water you crouch next to him with the warm-soaked bandages.  His breathing is laboured and stuttering, you note, even through the helmet.

“This won’t hurt.” you soothe him with your voice.  “I have put a local plant salve in the mixture that will numb the pain.”  

“I’m not worried about the pain,”  Din says and reaches up to touch your cheek. “I’m worried about you.”

Again you smile and try to hide it.

“I-I’ll be gentle…” you stammer quietly.  He nods and pulls his shirt off exposing his broad, tan chest that is spotted with old scars that are now fading into a slightly lighter color than his skin.  He shuffles closer to you on the bed and you almost back off out of instinct at his imposing presence, then shake your head and reach forward with the bandages. Smoothing the bandages over his wounds on his chest, the warmth of the solution and antiseptic properties seem to put him at ease.  Even though the bandage was now in place you couldn’t help yourself but let your hands graze over his chest.

You’re startled when his gloved hand gently grasps your arm and strokes smooth and calming circles into it with his thumb.  You look up at him as he sits leaning against the headboard of the bed.  He reaches down and pulls the pants of his flight suit off and cocks a leg at the knee as he sits in his boxers and angles his hip up slightly so  you can access the wound on his inner thigh.

Taking a deep breath in you straddle him with a damp bandage in your hand.  His arm slides smoothly against your back and pulls you closer as he keenly stares through his visor at your eyes.  His embrace is firm and strong as if he’s worried you may flee if he loosens it.  He wants you nowhere but with him in that moment. 

Placing the bandage on his inner thigh you slowly circle your hands across it to affix it and wipe up the droplets of water that streamed down his thigh.  You see him hard beneath his boxers and your eyes flick from his hard cock to his helmet looking for any sign your slow trailing touch leading to his cock could be unwanted.  As you finally feel how full and hard he is he lets out a moan and his head lulls back and rests against the wall.  A small smile tweaks your lips and you lean down and begin kissing his neck.  His chest is heaving with broken breaths of passion and you feel his crooked leg wrap around you and effortlessly flip you over onto the mattress.

You let out a small, surprised yelp then once you’ve settled, look up at him through lustful eyes.

“Good girl…”  His low voice whispers as he caresses your face.

His hand creeps slowly down to your hips then in towards your pussy and like a supernova your body explodes with pleasure as he lightly circles your clit.

“Yes, Mando…”  You sigh as he tilts his head, closely watching you in wonder as you spiral further and further towards your orgasm.  He leans down next to your ear and murmurs,

“Are you going to come for me?” 

All you can muster through your sweat and bucking hips is an open mouthed nod and as if that was his indication to bring you even higher he picked up the pace and sent you pounding towards your orgasm.  Just before you came he stopped.  Your eyes open with a sad and needy look in them.  As you open your mouth to beg for him to finish you off he gently shushs you and lines his cock up to your entrance.

Slowly he pushed into you making sure you can adjust to his girth.  He smiled gently behind his helmet feeling some pride as he heard the occasional lust-filled tiny whimper coming from how full he was making you feel.  He returned his hand to softly stroking your cheek as he bottomed out in you.

“Are you ready?” he asked carefully watching your sweat glistened face.  

“Yes.  Please… yes.” You beg quietly.

He gently and slowly makes his first thrust and you are sent into a new level of pleasure you’ve never felt before.  Your legs wrap tightly around his waist as you exhale a shuddered moan.  He begins picking up the pace and you feel your walls stretch and slowly accept him as your slick drips and smears all over his cock inside you. 

Din is moaning now with every buck of his hips and he can no longer contain himself to being gentle.  You can tell he’s getting as close to coming as you are.  Your walls flutter around him as you tumble head long into your orgasm and the feeling has Din chasing his own right with you.  Your loud moans turn to cries of ecstasy and fill the tiny cabin as you embrace your hot and sweaty bodies tightly together.  You feel thick, strong ropes of cum spill inside of you and then with hard breaths you both begin to fall slowly back down to earth in eachothers arms.

You look up from your position, curled up next to Din.  He tilts his helmet down at you for a moment to take in your sleepy and comfortable face.  His arm around you pulls you in tighter and thumb gently strokes the skin on your arm as you nestle in closer and find yourself drifting into a deep sleep.

………………

You wake from your slumber and find Din is no longer in the bed next to you.  With a questioning and concerned expression you begin pulling on your pants and tunic then peer over the edge of the loft into the large main room below, however, still can’t spot him.

You step out of the cabin, letting the door slam shut behind you, your head on a swivel trying to place where he could have gone.

“Mando?”  You call out into the open field.  Your head is spun around when you hear the sound of metal clanking loudly from inside of your old rusted-out Razor Crest.  You turn and jog towards the ship.

The ship was severely damaged, there was a giant hole ripped into it where the hull ramp would have been and inside was in shambles.  Even with your attempts to try to frankenstein parts from other ships together in order to fix it - it was a repair attempt that now seemed futile and frivolous.  The ship was so old now that brush from the jungle had reached across the short way from the edge of the field and was trying to engulf it back into it’s wildlife.

You push vines and severed wires out of the way, carefully stepping over debris in the dark, heading toward the cockpit when you see flashing coming from up there, “Mando?”  You call out quieter now, unsure whether you should raise your voice in case it happened to be an intruder.  You peeked through the sliver of bent cockpit metal sliding door and saw Din hunched over in the pilots chair using a laser torch to cut a bent panel open then grab at some wires and parts inside.

“Hey handsome.”  You smile and lean with your arms crossed against the janky and lopsided cockpit doorway.  Din turns around and nods at you, “Just thought you’d rip my ship apart without asking?” you smile

Din stops and turns around to make sure you weren’t being serious.

“It was mostly ripped apart to begin with,”  He said, tossing a broken part onto the ground. “This ship will never get off the ground.  It’s too far gone. The best bet is to strip the parts I need from here and transport them over to my ship and repair that one.”  You flop down and swivel in the co-pilots seat peering around the dilapidated cockpit.  

“What are you talking about?  This is the damn lap of luxury here!”  You exclaim sarcastically then reach forward at one of the levers and pull it back to which the gentle pressure snaps the lever off in your hand.  Your eyes flick up to Din, “We didn’t need that part, right?”

Din shakes his head and goes back to using his laser torch and for the first time since you had met you could have sworn you heard a gentle chuckle from underneath the helmet.

“Unbolt that panel over there and get to work pulling the navigational circuit boards out.” Din says handing you a socket wrench.  You shrug and take the wrench and get to work pulling parts from the cockpit.

Hours later into the evening, you're both exhausted and seeing double from all of the parts you’ve pulled, stripped and organized and gotten prepared for the transport to Din’s ship.  You wipe the sweat dripping from your forehead with your forearm, leaving a long smear of oil across your face.  Flopping down in the copilot chair next to din, who is soldering a circuit board in his hand, you say with a deep exhale, “I need to stop.”  You rub your eyes with your fists tiredly,  “Besides, we should eat something.  We’ve been at this all day.  I can prepare that Rous for us.”

Din stands up and stretches then places the circuit board that was in his hand onto the pile of parts next to you.  He reaches down, tilts your head up to look at him and gently wipes the oil off your face. You slide an arm around his back and fall into his stomach with an exhausted sigh.

“Do you think we’re gonna make it off this planet?”  You ask staring into the distance out the windscreen at the jungle, your face still pressed against Din.  Din is looking down at you gently stroking his gloved fingers through your hair.  You can feel him breathing through his armor.

“I know we will.”  He says matter of factly.

You look up to see his visor trained down on you and you smile tiredly.

“Okay,”  You say with a sigh and a grunt as you get up and dust off your pants. “Food time.”

“I’m going to stay and work a little longer but let me know when the food is ready and I’ll come join you and call it quits for the night.”  You throw your lanky arm loosely in the air with a “thumbs up” as you stumble out of the ship.

Din takes a moment to watch you leave, feeling a sense of security with you he recognizes that he’s never felt before.  He shakes himself out of his thoughts and reaches back into the cockpit control panel, grabbing two wires and tugging at them to try to gain more slack.  As he does this, the stripped ends of the wires touch and to his surprise, let off sparks.  He jumps back and as he does hears the sound of a metal panel sliding open.  Turning around he tries to identify where the sound came from and can’t see in the darkness at first.  He turns the light on his helmet on and spots a hidden compartment behind the pilot’s chair that has slid open.  His heart jumps to his throat when he realizes what he’s looking at.

“No.  It’s not possible…”  He trails off, his heart in his throat.

Back to Masterlist

#mandalorian #mando #mandalorian smut #mandalorian fluff #razor crest #mando x reader #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #star wars #mandalorian fanfic

[merchantofwhispers]

Cinead is Actually a Loving Husband (Christmas) Genre: Fluff Warnings: NONE Notes: Not proof read or pre-planned, just rambling. This is.. Very Long.

Stars shimmered in the sky above, mirroring the endless sea of glistening white that blanketed the world around them. Gemina stared out her window, watching the forest as everything within it slept. Between her hands was a cup of tea, fragrant and rosy in color, but long cooled from its time resting on that very windowsill.

"Yer' awake still."

His voice was still rough from sleep, small growls curling around the edges of his words. Gemina could see the faintest outline of his figure in the reflection of the glass and she watched it move closer. Once he was behind her his arms dipped below hers, hugging around her midsection before burying his nose into the side of her neck. "Good morning, Cin.." She hummed quietly.

"Good mornin', My Minny." Cinead replied beneath his breath. He lingered there, his nose dragging to her ear where he placed several gentle kisses and then several more into her hair. Gemina reached up behind her to run her fingers through his own, careful not to pull at the finely done braids that hung down.

"Did you sleep well, My Love?" "I would 'ave slept better if ya' were with me."

Cinead's chin rested on her shoulder and stared out at the endless dark with her for a moment. He knew her as a quiet woman, usually only speaking if she truly had something worthwhile to say, but there was something about her silence now that he knew was wrong.

"What's the matter, Dove?" He questioned while rubbing his stubble against her chin, large fingers poking into her belly where he knew it would make her squirm. To his delight, she did just that, giggling softly and retreating into his chest as her chin turned up and she kissed at cheek.

"Nothing, My love." She assured in that same, whispered tone.

Yet he didn't believe her, not as he turned his face down to look into those crystal blue eyes. Concealed well though was a sort of tiredness that anyone else would have taken at face value, but he knew that look well.

Too well.

His smile darkened somewhat as he brought a hand up to gently cup the side of her face and draw her in for a lingering kiss.

"Have ya' gone skatin' yet this year?" "No. I've been too busy." "Well, how about we go now?" "Cin, you can't skate." "No, but I sure do love watchin' ya' dance around like pre'y wisp."

His heart swelled as he watched her smile deepen, those little lines on the side of her mouth becoming more prominent. "I love you.." Gemina muttered. "-And I you, my little dove.. Now c'mon, go get yer' skates." He urged, prying the tea from her hand and using his other arm to hoist her up from the chair.

She made a small huffing noise, defiant as she pushed his arm off her waist and made a point to stand perfectly still while staring at him in a silent show of stubbornness. It didn't last though, not as she immediately turned to do exactly as he'd said.

Gemina walked down into the basement and headed towards a storage wall. Dust had long gathered on many of the boxes and she couldn't remember the last time she'd gone through them. It was bittersweet at best, but downright agonizing at worst to look at fragments of the past. Especially during seasons such as this.

Minutes passed as she sat on a chair and stared at the skates in her hand, barely even having dusted them off from their years in storage. She'd lost track of the time when she heard the basement door opening and the creaking of steps, immediately snapping to attention and wiping away tears she hadn't even known she cried.

"Are ya Alrigh-... Awe now, Minny.."

Cinead's brow furrowed as he looked at her sitting in the dark, hands just as dusty as the old skates in her hand. "I'm fine." She immediately assured and stood up, clutching the old skates in her hands and starting to walk towards him. His eyes moved from her over to the shelf they'd come from; old pictures poking out the top of disturbed boxes, ornaments and wooden toys from lives lost long ago.

Suddenly he understood.

He reached between them and grabbed her hands, pulling the skates up with them, and then grabbed them gently. A small mental note was made to get her a new pair tomorrow, but these should hold up just fine for now.

"Ya' don't decorate much anymore, do ya.."

Gemina looked down, her lips thinning as he used his spare hand to grab her chin and pulled her face up to look at him. "Minny," he whispered, "why are ya' hidin' from me? 'Ave I done somethin'?"

Little wrinkles appeared in her eyes as she squinted at him, her smile lines deepening as she fought the urge to cry. "No, you've done nothing wrong, I'm just-.." "Lonely." He finished her sentence as she trailed off. "Lonely." She repeated, forcing herself to smile and sigh as if it was nothing.

"I understand."

He inched around her, resting his hand on her lower back and pushing her towards the stairs. "Come on, Old Lady.. Let's get you outside."

That was enough to earn him another laugh and his heart swelled, even as she sputtered out an offended "Whose the oldest?".

Once they were upstairs he doted on her, refusing to let her do the smallest task for herself. He fetched her coat, her scarf, and her hat. He even helped put her snow boots on and tied the laces before placing a little kiss on the top of her knee.

The walk through the garden was quiet while he led her on his arm, carrying her skates with the other. Even covered in snow he could see the effort and love she poured into the house; he'd built it with his own hands all those years ago, but she'd truly made it beautiful.

Just as she did with everything.

Cinead glanced over at her frequently, marveling at the way he could see little greys in her hair, the way her nose twitched as she sniffed, and how her eyes twinkled just like the snow beneath them. At one point she turned to look at him, catching him staring, and her cheeks flushed a bright pink.

"All these years later and ya' still blush fer' me." He immediately purred and leaned in to nuzzle against her cheek. "Quiet." She giggled and turned her face away.

-And quiet he was, but the smile he wore spoke every word he didn't say.

They finally reached the lake that was hidden far back in the woods at the base of one of the mountain's many hills. During the summer there was often a waterfall, but it had long frozen against the rocks along with the rest of the water. Trees towered around them, creating a beautiful frame for the clear moon above.

After clearing the snow off one of the large rocks, she sat down on it. When Cinead reached for her snowboot she pushed his hand away and patted the spot beside her. He paused, staring between her and the skates before sitting down and opening his arm for her to lean into him.

"Do you remember when we first found this lake?" She asked while staring out over the frozen water. "I do. It was after a heavy rain, wasn't it? Heard the waterfall and went running, thinkin' the damn hill was gonna flood." "It was beautiful... We used the clay off the bank to help with the house." "We did..."

Cinead turned to stare down at her again.

"The house had so many guests back then.." "Aye, ya' had quite a few friends back then, didn't ya."

She turned to look at him finally, smiling daintily as she leaned up to steal a kiss.

"Stay home for a little while? Just till the holidays are over.."

Cinead immediately nodded, pressing his forehead into hers. "That's all ya had t'ask, Dove.. I'll stay home until yer' sick of me." His nose brushed against hers again, purring deep in his chest before suddenly yanking her into his lap. "I'd do anything t'make ya smile.. I'd even build ya another house if ya' asked."

"Would you learn how to skate?"

Silence lingered between them again, but it was broken by her little giggles.

"Yer' a little shit ya know.. But if that's what ya really want." He grumbled while hugging her tighter. "I'll learn t'fuckin' skate, but if I fall through that damn ice it's gonna' be yer' fault."

The two sat there giggling in the dark, curled up like two large cats in a tangle of limbs and purring.

"How does the ocean not scare you, but some ice does?" Gemina questioned. "Nah, I never said I wasn't scared of the ocean. I said I understand the ocean." He corrected, wagging a finger in the air. "So.. You don't understand ice? My love, it's merely frozen water."

Cinead stiffened and immediately Gemina tried to bolt away, but he grabbed hold of her hips to keep her still as he dove into her neck to rub his stubble against her face. Her laughter was shrieking as he mocked her.

"Jus' frozen water!" He growled as he poked and pinched at her sides. "Jus' frozen water, I had never bloody thought of that!" He was breathless as he pulled back, giggling as he reached to grab her hat that had fallen off her head, only to earn a sudden jab to the ribs that made him cough.

"Yer' bein' a right shit, aren't--YA?!"

Suddenly he was in the snow off to the side of the rock, white powder flying up in the air and dusting across as face. When he opened his eyes he saw Mina peering over the rock, lips spread wide in a Cheshire cat grin.

Ah, there's the woman he loves.

"That's for calling me an old woman." "Ya' got three seconds t'get yer' ass movin' before I drown ya' in the lake, ya old Hag."

Before he knew it he was sprinting through the trees attempting to catch Gemina as she tossed snowballs back at him, the old ice skates forgotten somewhere along the shore of the frozen lake.

He would have to come home more. Not just for her sake.

#;Mina History #;Mina Journal #;Drabble #;Cin History #;Cin Journal #this is more from Cinead's POV than Mina's

[janeykath318]

Partner in Handcuffs

Prompt: “Please go away.”

“Given That we’re handcuffed together, that’s pretty much impossible right now.”

“Please go away,” muttered a very annoyed Johnny Storm to his fellow prisoner, one Darcy Lewis.

“Much as I’d like to, sulky face, given that we’re handcuffed together, that’s pretty much impossible right now, so I’ll continue my coping mechanisms until we’re in our future dark cell or are miraculously rescued, hopefully by a hunky hero.”

Darcy sighed and went off on another tangent about her Avenging friends and her love of Thor and Captain America while Johnny groaned and rolled his eyes. He was tired of the endless praise for his doppelgänger, mostly because of how frequently he was negatively compared to him.

After she finished her enthusiastic tale, he sighed and attempted to change the subject for the twentieth time.

“So, why were they hunting you?” he asked. “You secretly a superhero?”

“Not exactly, but I have a certain…… gift that makes me qualify to be considered enhanced. Though, technically it’s more of a mutant thing,” Darcy explained carefully, wiggling her fingers to try to keep feeling in them.

“I’m intrigued,” Johnny commented. “Just what kind of “gift” is it? Laser eyes? Telepathy?”

“I can heal with my touch,” Darcy said quietly.

Johnny whistled in appreciation. “Wow. That’s an incredible gift!” He responded. “Bet that came in handy.”

“It did, but it also made me a target for being taken advantage of. I learned pretty quickly who really cared about me and who just wanted a quick fix for their sprained ankle,” Darcy told him, a touch of sadness in her tone.

“When I read those Accords, I knew it was bullshit to control us and abuse us in the name of oversight,” she went on. “And I’m guessing you came to the same conclusion.”

“Sure did,” Johnny confirmed. “That’s our one common ground.”

He sighed dolefully as the van rumbled on. Yeah, he thought Darcy was plenty cute and all, but she wasn’t the type to ever be interested in him, he thought. Maybe as a substitute for Steve.

“You think you could melt the handcuffs off, Hot Stuff?” Darcy asked.

“Flattered as I am at the compliment, It would leave your hands pretty charred and I’m not gonna risk that. You need them for your science, after all,” he told her.

“I guess,” she sighed. “Natasha showed me how to dislocate my thumb to get out of cuffs, but they’re too tight for even that. We’re pretty much screwed.”

The van stopped and Darcy and Johnny tensed, waiting with baited breath, eyes widening as they heard scuffling sounds that turned into grunting and shouts and a weird clanging.

“Division among the henchmen?” Darcy whispered.

“Could be. Maybe they’re taking each other out with steel beams,” Johnny suggested. “That’s loud.”

Darcy giggled at the thought, imagining their captors brawling WWE style and braining each other with heavy crowbars or something.

After a few minutes of silence, the van doors were jerked open and a hooded figure holding a long metal pipe looked in on them.

“Are you okay?” said a gruff voice. Johnny didn’t recognize it, but Darcy’s eyes lit up.

“Yeah, except for numb fingers,” she told their visitor. “Are you our rescue?”

“Yeah,” Hooded guy said. “Dr. Foster and Dr. Richards passed the word along that you two had gone missing and We tracked you down.”

“Who’s we?” Johnny questioned suspiciously. “How do I know that you’re not just another one of Ross’s goons?”

Darcy shot Johnny a look of disapproval that he couldn’t see.

“Don’t you know who this is? The epitome of truth, justice, and freedom? He hates people like Ross.”

Their rescuer chuckled and bent down to pick the handcuffs. As soon as they were free, they took a good look and Johnny felt like he was looking in a mirror—a scruffy, dusty, bearded, insanely ripped mirror. It was obviously Steve Rogers.

“Oh. You.” He said slightly ungraciously. Darcy elbowed him.

“Ow!” he complained.

“I apologize for my ungrateful companion,” she told Steve. “He seems to resent you.”

“Join the club,” Steve said, looking very unsurprised.

“What club?”Johnny shot back, rubbing the feeling back into his hands. “Everyone worships you and makes sure I know what a big disappointment I am that I’m not you.”

“Not the time, buddy,” Darcy whispered. “We’re trying to get rescued, not hash out our insecurities.”

Steve looked at him steadily.

“I’m sorry to hear that, but if they can’t appreciate your value as your own person, that’s their problem. We’re all in the same boat right now and I could really use your mechanical skills to get the get-away vehicle running again.”

Johnny felt a tad bit ashamed of his outburst, but it felt good to know he could be of some use for once. A bit of tinkering and the three of them were on the road, headed for Steve’s current hideout.

“Feeling better?” Darcy asked him.

“Yeah,” Johnny admitted. “I guess I have more issues than I thought.” He put his head in his hands. “I’m just tired of people wanting me to be something I’m not.”

“I get that,” Darcy sighed. “Everyone expected me to be a doctor or a modern day Jesus, going around healing everything. It doesn’t work like that and My friends respect that. I don’t think you let many people see the real Johnny Storm and that’s too bad because I think underneath all the playboy tendencies and the Human Torch, you’ve got a big heart that loves to help people.”

“I’m not even sure who the real Johnny Storm is anymore,” he admitted.

“Welp, you’ll have plenty of time to figure that out,” Steve commented from the driver’s seat. “Living off the grid has brought me my own clarity. I hope it will for you, too.”

“Thanks,” Johnny said, kicking himself for how he’d acted. Steve hadn’t asked to be compared to anyone. “Nice work with the pipe, by the way.”

He nearly choked when Steve replied straight-faced “That’s what she said.”

Darcy burst into laughter and Johnny shook his head in stunned amusement.

“I take my cap off to you, Cap,” he told him. “I walked right into that one. Good to know your mind isn’t as squeaky clean as the press claims.”

“It’s like they forget I was in the army,” Steve said in fond exasperation.

#prompt fic #darcy lewis #johnny storm #steve rogers #potential multichapter fic #fantastic four #post civil war

[inkedroplets]

Back on my Constantine Supercorp nonsense. Envisioning a scene in the early days of Constantine begrudgingly taking on Lena as a pupil.

I imagine that Lena’s belief and thoughts on magic (even after seeing it with her own two eyes) is at best middling. It’s the knowledge that her magic comes from her mother that has her willing to embrace it, to run to it, because what else does she have? And as for Constantine taking on Lena as a quasi-pupil, she’s hurt too many people, has too many regrets to not feel obligated to help, especially when the alternative is to leave Lena a sitting duck for all manner of magic-users, demons etc.

“You talk in your sleep, you know?” 

Lena looked up from her reading, not looking terribly surprised or even interested. She closed the dusty tome she had been poring over for the last hour with a great deal more care than Constantine had shown it when she had practically thrown it into her lap earlier in the evening. “I’d ask you to forgive me for dozing off but you did drop a grimoire in my lap written entirely in Latin, you must have saw it coming.” “You’re the one who wanted the crash course, love,” Constantine said, sounding almost just as uninterested in the topic as Lena was. She opened her hand and a similarly looking book appeared in it. She held it up with a flourish before it disappeared again. “No promises you’ll find the Sumerian texts any more engaging.” “Something to look forward to then,” Lena snarked. “You’d find the texts a lot more palatable if you slept a bit more,” Constantine suggested in a tone that made it seem as if such a simple solution might not have been one that Lena had taken into consideration.

If only it were that simple,” Lena thought, leaning back in her chair to peer at her reflection in an overly ornate mirror on the far wall. She glimpsed the ever-darkening circles under her eyes and wondered when was the last time her sleep hadn’t been plagued with nightmares. “What did I say?” Lena asked, feigning the same disinterest she had shown just moments before. “Mumbling something in Latin?” she mused, pretending she couldn’t remember the recurring nightmare that had plagued her for months now. Constantine shrugged, her gaze passing over Lena without stopping, a wry smile spreading across her face. “You joke but I knew someone who had a habit of mumbling incantations in their sleep. Nasty way to wake up. With a demon in your bed. At least an uninvited one...” Whether or not it was a bad joke, it still coaxed a chuckle from Lena. “Dreaming of an ex from the sounds of it...” “No,” Lena said, the scant hint of humor in her voice disappearing like water draining from a basin. “Just a nightmare,” she said dismissively.

“Hence me thinking you were dreaming of an ex,” Constantine offered, a half-smile on her face. She did have the decency to offer a halfhearted shrug. “But evidently not,” she said, not looking that convinced. Just someone who I thought cared for me, Lena thought and tried to quell the rage she felt burst to life in her chest, unsure who she hated more. Kara for deceiving her or herself for allowing herself to be deceived. “You wouldn’t know a spell to sleep without dreams, would you?” It was Constantine’s turn to laugh, her smile morphing into a knowing one. “If only,” she said and shook her head. “Trust me when I say it wouldn’t do much even if I could.” Her gaze met Lena’s and she shook her head. “There is never a shortage of nightmares. You banish one and there are countless more waiting in the wings.” “Speaking from experience,” Lena said and in spite of all the walls she had erected around her heart, she felt a small fugitive spark of kinship as she watched Constantine study her face before offering her a solemn nod. “I’m sorry,” Lena offered, knowing it wouldn’t, couldn’t mean much, but offering it anyway.

#lena luthor #johanna constantine #ficlet #most likely a prelude to them hooking up... #constantine au #supercorp

[chaosmultiverse]

@superbeaucoupdevisages​ answered:

   It...Hurt. It really hurt. How was one supposed to react to hearing someone you cared so deeply about that had been taken out of your life- That you had SEEN leave your life? No matter the amount of talking Maki had done with various people, her friends included, at the mention of HIM, she would immediately shut down any sort of conversation. She didn’t want to hear it, and she would much prefer to simply bottle these feelings up and forget about them on some dusty shelf. It was such a cruel fate for somebody that she had once held so closely but- She needed to be able to move forward. To keep going day by day with her existence. It should have been enough that sometimes she bought silly little mementos that reminded her of him. It should have been enough to keep his memory in her heart and thoughts. It should have been enough to have his friends around her that understood the pain.

   But...It was never enough. It would never be enough. Especially since the whole incident felt entirely unjust. How could people have decided that it happening was an okay thing? That they had let it gone on for so long? Losing him is what had made her hate the majority of the people on this god awful planet, and nothing could change her mind. Except by some miracle he was still alive on this planet somewhere but- Maki doubted that. She had been through the whole denial part of grieving and would rather not loop back around to it. But if anything- She was still angry. Very angry. So why now? Had she not suffered enough already?”

     “......It’s not FAIR..!” Her fists shook at her side before letting her anger get the better of her. Fist raised, she quickly slammed her knuckles into the mirror in front of her with a small yell.

He wasn’t sure how he was still there, flickering in and out, watching his friends go on. at first... He thought it was a dying dream, something his mind came up with to comfort him, one last lie before the curtain fell but it had became clearer and clearer that no, this was very much real.

And he wasn’t anymore, or well more he was what could be called a ghost, what remained of someone who had died, a ‘living’ memory. He was glad to see that his friends had been living life as much as they could but... It hurt... Watching like a member of the audience instead of being there with them.

He had tried a few times already to grab the attention of his friends, ranging from trying to break or move things to yelling and screaming, begging for them to look at him, see him. Nothing had worked, Kato had never been one to give up but... He needed to take a break, it was driving him insane and making the hole in his heart fill more and more with grief over his own death and he couldn’t take that anymore, he needed to regroup, regather his strength... The one upside to this all was no one could see when he needed to rest, when he was ‘weak’.

Or so he thought as words slipped out, a musing not meant to actually hit Maki’s ears as he was watching her head off to bed once again but... No she reacted, she yelled, replied.

In the broken shards of the mirror was where she could see him, he was blankly staring back at her, his features seemed more hallow, the bags under his eyes noticeable, he had a surprised look on his face.

“You- You can see me?” His voice was a bit off, far away and... It sounded like the memory of his voice, it lacked the breathes between words, the energy from his lungs and chest that his speech had but it was indeed Kaito’s voice.

#superbeaucoupdevisages #Kaito Momota {Luminary Of The Stars} {IC} #No One Can Say What We Get To Be So Why Don't We Rewrite The Stars?; Kaito x Maki {superbeaucoupdevisages} #Kaito Momota {A Story Told In The Stars} {ETC Verse}