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sprout-fics · 2 years

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The Hunted

(A Haunted! Din Djarin x F! Reader Mini-Series)

Ending Three: Claimed

Read (Here) on AO3

Word Count: 7.2k

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Din is Haunted, Dark! Din Djarin, Possessive Din, Possession (By the Darksaber), PiV sex, Unprotected sex (Wrap it before you tap it folks), Vaginal fingering, Multiple orgasms, Rough sex, Dirty talk, Semi-public sex, Dom/Sub tones, Just absolutely filthy rotten smut don't look at me

Warnings: Unreliable Narrator, Stalking, Sex under the influence (of a weird ancient Mandalorian lightsaber that apparently makes these two fuck like animals)

Summary:

For a moment there's a flash of awareness at the back of your thoughts, a brief glimpse of light that illuminates the velvet embrace of darkness that clouds your senses. Even when you try to grasp at it, though, it feels too far away to reach, slipping through your fingers like a dewy morning mist.

The madness of the saber has wound around your limbs like a net, dragging you below the ink-black surface of delirium. You can’t see the bottom, can’t yet fathom yet the depths you’ll fall to, and when you look up you see the light fading away, warbling into a mere reflection of yourself. You've stopped struggling, and when you sigh the name of your lover it feels like the last of your air bubbling upwards as you drown in him.

"Din."

(Special Note: Feel free to check out my Haunted Din playlist, made to accompany this fic!)

Tag List:

@adancedivasmom @writeforfandoms @arctrooper69 @devstinyy @bunnyteefs @zwiiicnziiix @leithatnight @againstacecilia @mina2000alex @dankest-farrik @stupendousladydinosaur @telltale-vixen @grogusmum @shadeblade16 @besk4r-recs

(Reply to or reblog this post to be added to future tag lists!)

By proceeding further you acknowledge you have read the listed warnings and tags

---

"Found you, Mesh'la."

You scream as you're tugged backwards, hands vainly clawing and scrambling at the metal panels you're pressed between, trying to find purchase. It doesn't matter, because Din's grip on your arm is so severe it's nearly bruising, dragging you further and further away from freedom and into the cage of his arms. It doesn't take more than a heartbeat before you're yanked out of your hiding place and Din is spinning you, pressing you into the nearest vertical surface so suddenly the air rushes from your lungs in a frantic gasp.

You try and thrash, but Din has your hands gripped firmly behind you in one hand, the other helping press your entire front into the metal as his frame cages you in from behind.

A whimper escapes you despite yourself, feeling the length of Din's body pressed all along your shoulders, his knee tucked neatly between yours. He's all skill and muscle, his strength bolstered through the forbidden power of the Darksaber. He turns it against you effortlessly even as you try to squirm and escape, refusing to cede even an inch to you, trapped within his hold. With every breath of his you feel his chest rise underneath the armor tucked between your shoulders and you shudder at the sensation of him caging you in from all sides.

"Don't make this hard." He breathes in your ear, and that treacherous heat curls within you, purring at the way his voice dips against your thoughts, offering an intoxicating temptation. Still, you manage to contain the gasp that perches at the back of your throat. Again, you wiggle, but when Din fails to budge you slump, raising your voice at him instead.

"Let me go." You plead, voice warbling with apprehension. Din merely huffs at you, pressing further into your back so that you nearly wheeze with the weight of him.

"Depends." He murmurs back, and the sound of him threatens to send goosebumps racing along your spine. "Are you going to be a good girl?"

Good girl.

You can't contain a little whimper at that, and when it manages to escape you Din's entire form briefly goes rigid against you.

"You like that?" He whispers eagerly, and you can hear the keenness spilling over his tongue, eyes bright and interested at your reaction. "My good girl?"

You don't reply, scrunching your eyes shut and trying to ignore that building desire within you. It bubbles just below the surface, prowling and purring and waiting for the moment where you surrender, let yourself indulge in his touch and give in to your pleasure.

It's wrong. You know it is, but your mind can't contain the memories of him before you decided to flee, of Din's broad hands splaying over your thighs and back as he bent you over the edge of his bed. You can still remember his voice growling those same praises down at you as he punctuated each syllable with a punch of his hips, stoking that flame within you into something radiant and burning, aching and unyielding in its pleasure. His name still tastes like a chant across your lips as your fingers clawed at the sheets, voice hoarse as you begged him for more, to cleave you apart in the way that only he can.

You ache.

You're breathing hard, chest rising and falling rapidly as you try desperately to contain your rising lust. it feels like an impossible effort, with Din's figure weighing down on your back and his hands gripping both of yours, his breath echoing and crackling in your ear from under his helmet.

"Let me go, Din." You try again, voice cracking dry in your throat as you shiver long and hard. Yet the deceitful sensation of your body seem to trace like featherlight touches across your skin, and you let out a shuddering exhale that curls against your cheek pressed to the metal.

It's too late, though, because Din seems to have caught on to your inner thoughts, and when he chuckles darkly you feel your knees briefly go weak under you.

"You wanted to be caught, didn't you?" He purrs, and that silky voice of his oozes past your defenses, sinking into you lower and lower, descending to the warmth coiling below your belly. Still, you shake your head even as the false denial of his words rises within you.

"N-no!" You try, but the lie tastes sour on your lips. Your mind is buzzing, filled with static as you try and fail to find the justification behind your words. Yet you can't deny it now, can't deny all those nights dreaming of this day when he would finally catch you, take you in his arms where you were always meant to be. As much as you try to deny it you can't- you've been waiting for this moment, running and running from the deadly hunter only to be ensnared, claimed in the way you were meant to be.

You brace your forehead against the metal in front of you, let out a shuddering breath as you feel the remnants of resistance begin to fade from your limbs. Even as a part of you struggles to keep your logic clasped tightly to you, it's a vain effort. You can feel that madness rising within you now, inescapable just as Din is. It clogs the back of your throat and flood your veins with ink, and you know even if you run you’ll carry it with you, let it drag you back to him.

Din senses this, feels the way you slacken, and suddenly he's cooing in your ear, voice gentle and reassuring. "Shhh. It's okay, I have you now, back where you belong. With me."

This isn't right, and you know it. You haven't come this far to just give in, to let yourself be caught like this. Even so you're so tired, exhausted in body and spirit of running and hiding from this hunter, from the man you love. You’ve spent weeks aching for him, needing the comfort of his voice and touch. The lure of him is too much to resist, and to your weary bones his words are a sweet, sultry salve that glides across your senses and steals away the remaining particles of your sanity.

"There." Din croons, and you relax further into his arms. "That's good, sweetheart."

"D-don't-" You try, but with every moment you feel your tightly wound muscles loosen, warm under his touch. Like the flickering glow of a fire Din bleeds heat into you, unwinding all the tension from your body and mind.

Din hums, the cold metal of his helmet pressing into the junction of your neck and shoulder and making you tremble.

"Aren't you tired, Mesh'la?" He asks, and with his question your head feels too heavy to hold upright, and something seems to be dragging the center of you down, downwards underneath the waves of madness. "It's okay, I'll take care of you."

That...that sounds nice. Your mind conjures thoughts that feel for a moment like they aren't yours- of a warm bed with Din's form wrapped entirely around you and keeping you safe. By his side you don't have to worry about where you're going to sleep, about running, about the shadows chasing your every step and nipping at your heels. Din will take care of you, he'll keep you safe, as he's meant to. All you have to do is give in, say yes as you should have all that time ago.

"Din." You murmur, and his name feels heavy on your tongue, but the taste of it curls over your breath and sweetens the back of your mouth in a forbidden aftertaste.

Din shudders, and for a moment his hold on you tightens again possessively.

"That's right, cyar'ika." He whispers, voice scraping rough against the back of his throat. "Say my name."

"Din."

Din growls. The sound has you limp in his arms in surrender, and for a moment he has to brace against you the metal wall to keep you from falling to the floor. You whine when he presses down on you, but the sound is less of a protest and more of a need, dark and deep and heavy inside you. It's a pressure only he can relieve, something only he has the cure for.

"I got you, cyar'ika." He tells you, and his voice feels like honey, warm and dripping over your lips. "My good girl."

You melt into him, craning your neck away from him with a plaintive little whimper that has his grip on your hands tightening to the point of a dull pain. You hear him curse under his breath, the sound muffled and crackled by his voice modulator, deepening it to a torrid, greedy murmur. His knee raises a little higher between your legs, barely reaching the apex of your thighs. You sink the remaining inch down onto it, grind blissfully down on the pressure with a muffled groan.

That seems to be the only signal Din needs, because suddenly he's flipping you to face him. Your back collides against the metal panel with a dull thud you barely hear over the rising staccato of your heartbeat inside your chest. Din still has his grip on your wrists, not that he needs to anymore, really. You're done running, done trying to flee. You don't know why you did in the first place, not when the thing you'd always been looking for is right in front on you, his lust-laden gaze staring you down through the dark, glinting T of his visor.

"Pretty thing." He murmurs, using his other hand to run a gloved thumb over your bottom lip. Your core clenches at the praise, warmth spreading across your cheek and eyes fluttering closed as you bask in his attentions. You missed this, you realize. You missed his voice soothing over your senses, his touch gliding across your skin and leaving tremors in his wake. The mere presence of him is enough to dull any and all inhibitions you once clung to as if they could offer you refuge.

"Here?" You find yourself asking, feeling the remaining shreds of your sanity question his decision to take you here, in the open with the possibility of someone seeing you. The warehouse is abandoned at this hour, but you never know when a worker might wander in, hear the two of you from within the confines of the metal maze.

"Here." Din confirms, and a murmur of trepidation runs through you.

"Someone could see-" You try, only for the rough timbre of Din's voice to interrupt.

"Let them see." He all but snarls. "Let them see that you're mine."

You try to find it within you to protest, but then his thumb suddenly digs between your teeth, and when you gasp he only pushes the digit in further, grazing it over the roof of your mouth. You want to curl your tongue around it, but before you can Din fixes you with his stare.

"Bite." He growls, and it's not a request.

So, you do, teeth sinking down on the suede tip of his gloved finger. To your surprise, Din tugs his hand backwards so his hand slides free and bares his fingers. You feel your heart jump a little in your chest, eyes flicking from where his hand skims low across your belly back up to his face, to his unbreakable gaze.

The flat of his palm briefly splays across your breast, his hand cold as it slithers between the fabric of your shirt and your bare skin. You shiver at the touch, but not before letting out a small groan of approval where Din kneads the rise of your chest appreciatively. The sound is muffled by the tip of his glove, but Din gives you no indication you should drop it and you want to be good, need to be good.

His hand holding your wrists flexes in a gesture of barely contained restraint, shoulders tight as he towers over you. You lean into his touch, and with every skim of his fingers and wide press of his hand you feel that coiling desire within you tighten, beg for release. It's all you can do to simply surrender to him, let him have you in the way you've dreamt of for so long despite the fear of giving in.

Distantly, you wonder why you were ever afraid at all.

When Din's hand presses below the hem of your pants you arch into his with a muffled, needy sound that rises high in your throat. Din's chest is rising rapidly, eyes fixated on the way your eyelashes flutter and your hands clench and release in a desperate bid to touch him. At the first swipe of his bare fingers through the wetness collecting between your folds you buck into his hand, wanting, needing more.

"So wet for me already, Mesh'la?" He asks, a dark amusement tinting his voice. "And here I thought you didn't want to be caught."

You shake your head in response, unable to speak past the glove between your teeth. He's wrong, you know that now. These weeks of running, fleeing had been you desperately trying to deny what had always been there- the need, desire to be beside him, under him. You had been running from yourself, but now that's you've surrendered you don't know why you even ran to begin with. It feels like it's still there, whatever that reason is, but when you try to grasp at it the thought dances beyond your reach like the shadows that flicker from him in the midnight.

It fades into nothingness when Din's thumb presses down on your clit, and your entire body goes absolutely rigid under his touch with a sharp little cry.

"So sensitive." Din murmurs, his eyes devouring every scrunch of your brow and hitch of your breath. You want to tell him that of course you are, you're always sensitive for him, only him, forever him.

You press down on his fingers instead as his thumb circles lazily over your clit, chasing your own pleasure. It's not enough, never enough, and he knows it. You need more, you need him.

When his hand vanishes you whine in protest, bucking your hips in an effort to chase his hand sliding from between your legs. Yet then the fabric between your lips vanishes and you suck in a shuddering breath, gaze hooded as you stare up at him. There's saliva collecting in the corner of your lips, and your face feels hot to the touch as he pins you under his stare. You don't speak, letting your head loll and bump against the inside of his elbow braced on the wall beside you. You can only imagine the sight of you, chest heaving and hands hauled above you, eyes dark with lust and face flushed with desire.

Din growls a sound deep in his chest, like a wolf stalking something from the shadows.

"Want to hear you." He rasps over the sound of his glove dropping to the floor, forgotten. "Want to hear all those pretty sounds you make."

You nod desperately, shifting in his hold and jerking your hips against his as they cage you against the wall. Din groans then, the sound low and heady and barely muffled through his modulator. Yet then his hand is tugging your pants down below your hips, baring you to him. More purposeful than before as he suddenly sinks two fingers into your heat up to the knuckles as your wetness slicks the back of his hand

You gasp loud, and the sound seems to please him as Din curls his fingers inside of you. You squirm, breath heavy and shuddering and breaking the silence of the otherwise quiet, desolate warehouse. When Din scissors those fingers inside you it's all you can do to sink further down on them, gasp his name in a plea.

"Din!" You beg, not knowing exactly what you're crying out for- for release, for salvation, maybe- for him to never let you go ever again and only ever let that pleasure within you reach higher and higher heights so you can barely breath for lack of air.

"Say my name like that again." He demands, and his voice is hoarse, as if the very sight of you keening in pleasure and squirming on his fingers undoes him at the seams. He's losing himself too, to not just the madness of the blade by the crazed desire of your flesh. He's boiling, maddened, his lust as uncontrollable as his desire to hunt. It's as if the chase of pursuing you has lit a fire in him that can't be dimmed by anything but your own release under his touch.

"Din!" You keen again, voice rising up to the rafters. "Din, please."

You're so close. You can feel it coiling and lighting within you, a firework with a fuse so short it's all you can do to cling on helplessly to his touch in search of your climax. You need it, need him in the way you need water, air, basic sustenance for your own survival.

"You are mine, only mine." Din growls, and suddenly the cold bite of his helmet is braced against your forehead. You stretch up to reach him, mouth open and gasping for air as your tongue forms the sound of his name. "Say it."

"Yours." You agree readily, chest heaving and thighs quivering. "Always yours, Din."

"Good girl."

With that his thumb is flicking over your clit at the same moment his fingers curl like that inside you and you yell as your orgasm washes over you so suddenly and sharply it's the only thing you can do but to cry out. Yet there's a hand over your mouth muffling the sound, and you realize your hands are suddenly free. They flutter for a moment before naturally falling to Din's shoulders, fingers tangling in the fabric of his cowl as he continues to fuck you with his fingers through your orgasm. You shake as your core clenches down and flutters on his fingers, muscles trembling as pleasure washes through your veins dark and thick enough to choke the air from your lungs.

It goes on for what feels like forever, the weeks of ever tightening tension in your muscles suddenly releasing all at once like a dam broken open. It's all you can do to cling to him, entire form trembling under his touch as you gasp out his name in a never-ending litany from behind his glove muffling your voice. The world narrows down to the feeling of his touch inside you, the rhythm of his fingers slowing and steadying, stroking your walls as you pulse around him.

Eventually the pleasure begins to dull and you feel yourself descending back into your own body, breath coming in shuddering and uneven gasps. Din withdraws his fingers from you and your breath hitches at the absence. He holds them up before his face for a moment, humming in appreciation at the slickness that spans between them. You barely notice, legs threatening to give out in the weakness following your devastating climax. You wobble for a moment, and Din's visor turns sharply to you.

"I got you." He murmurs, gathering you in his arms and you all but fall into them, letting your muscles give out. "Good. So good for me."

You preen at that, sated and pleased. Yet then you gasp as your thigh nudges the front of Din's pelvis and feels the straining bulge there. The brief contact is enough to have Din grunting, his hold on you tightening and digging into your arms. He needs you, you realize, and that knowledge is enough to set your blood on fire all over again- the thought that this entire time he's been desiring after you just as much as you have him. Now you've managed to find your own pleasure under his touch but left him wanting.

Your hand drifts downwards, gliding across his chest plate and settling over the hardness of him, pressing on it through the fabric of his pants. Din groans, the sound muffled as his hand briefly falls back. You grin, feeling yourself huff in pride at the reaction the simplicity of your touch can elicit from him.

There isn't much time to bask, however, because suddenly Din has you by the arm with one hand and is tugging your pants back above the curve of your hips with the other. Then he's walking, dragging you behind him as he makes his way back into the maze. You don't have the air to question him, not as his stride never breaks and he seems intent on wherever it is he's going. Besides, you don't have to wait long, because suddenly you find yourself being hauled into one of the many open shipping containers and dumped onto a soft surface.

Din pauses at the entrance for a moment, listening and watching for any would-be interlopers before following you inside. You watch his broad frame cast a shadow across your form, now sprawled over what seems like some sort of stack of moving pads. He moves towards you and that heat inside you burns at the sight of him, of your hunter stalking towards you with purpose, all muscle and danger and need.

You purr at him, spreading your legs in invitation. Yet instead of going for them Din instead seems fixated on your face, on the half-lidded gaze that glints in the darkness. With astonishing speed he's ripping off his helmet and dumping with a thud beside you. Then his hands are cupping your cheeks, bringing it up to his mouth before he devours you.

You gasp into his waiting lips, and the kiss is nearly bruising, all bite and teeth as Din takes no time in relishing the taste of you that he's been deprived of for far too long. Your hands are helping keep you uprights, leaning your weight backwards onto the mats. It doesn't take but a few heartbeats before you're scooting forward, reaching up and letting your fingers tangle in Din's soft curly hair. He hums in approval against your tongue, and you smile, nip at his lower lip playfully.

The taste of him blooms across your senses, dark and velvet and sweet. You want to douse yourself in it, let the scent of him paint across your skin in an undeniable indication that you're his.

Din seems to have the same thought, because suddenly he's shucking you of your jacket so his lips can descend to below your jaw. You gasp as you feel his seize the skin there, suck it between his lips so hard it's painful. Yet you only welcome it, knowing he's marking you, claiming you, leaving a brand so nobody will ever doubt you belong to him. So, you press him closer, lift your legs to wrap around his hips so you can feel the hardness of him under his flight suit press against the still sensitive junction of your thighs.

"Dank ferrick." Din curses against your collarbone, and for a moment his hips jolt, unable to contain himself. You both gasp at the sudden, delicious friction that greets you at the action. "Filthy girl."

Your eyes flash, and you wet your lips with your tongue, swollen and bruised as they are.

"Only for you." You murmur, a hand pressing Din's face into your collarbone, where he drinks in your scent. "Only you, Din."

Din chuckles, and the sound is different this time, warm, pleased. He straightens, removing your hands clinging to him so you flop onto your back with him wedged between your legs. You stare up at him in the darkness, and there's a shadow, a glint to him that seems supernatural, dark and dazzling like the white crackling energy of the saber.

“Look how shameless you are.” He purrs, and you merely hum at him, pleased like a loth-cat stretching in the sunlight. "My beautiful girl."

"You can sit there and stare." You quip, stretching your hands above your head so your breasts push upwards towards him. "Or you can come fuck me like you mean it."

Din freezes for a moment, as if shocked by the audacity of your sudden statement. Except then he's bending over you, and you see the wicked smile spreading across his lips.

"Trust me, cyar'ika." He murmurs darkly. "You won't be able to speak by the time I'm done with you."

Your breath hitches, eyes alight with excitement and expectation. Din's sultry brown gaze seems to mirror yours in the darkness, the glint there is familiar, reminiscent of the lightning crackling along the biting edge of his sword.

Din reaches down to free himself after only a moment of fumbling, and soon his other hand is shucking down your pants past your knees along with your underwear. You gasp at the sudden coolness against your bare entrance, but nevertheless lift a leg to let your trousers slide down your calf onto the metal floor. Din kicks them out of the way, and you catch a glimpse of his length in the shadows, his bare fist holding it tightly as a pearlescent bead of precum swells at the tip.

You let your legs fall open, beckoning him closer, wanting, needing to feel him again after all these weeks without him. You want him to fill you, graze that spot inside you that calls for him, for the thirst of his flesh against yours in a dance as old as time itself. Din steps closer, and you see his eyes glinting, his shoulders and chest heaving as he slots himself between your folds. The blunt pressure of him is just enough to stretch you, but you're open and ready for him, the wetness from your previous orgasm letting him slide the head of his cock through your folds.

"Tell me you want this." Din says suddenly, voice low and scraping dry against the back of his throat. "I want to hear it."

It's all you can do to not thrust your hips towards him, let him sink into you and feed the unyielding pressure within you. Yet you gaze at him through the darkness, the world narrowing to him and just him, the world and stars and galaxy beyond a mere blur to the stark sharpness of his gaze and touch.

"You caught me, Djarin." You breathe, and the confession alone makes your heart flutter and skip in your chest. "Now come claim me."

You barely have a moment to breathe after you taunt, because Din is sliding to the hilt inside of you and pressing all the air from your body so suddenly you can only arch off the mats under him. You manage to catch the cry that rips from your throat behind your hand, but it's not a moment before Din is grappling it, tearing it away.

"I want to hear you." He grunts as his hips quickly set a quick, snapping pace that has your entire form being jolted with every moment. "Want to hear how you come undone under me."

It's not as if you have much choice, not with the way Din is snapping his hips against your like he has something to prove. You can only gasp and whimper under him, feeling how your walls flutter and stretch around the width of him. You can feel every vein, every ridge of him inside you, and with every drag your belly coils and warms like he's stoking a flame there. You feel so full, that undeniable pressure within you building with every stroke of him against your inner walls. It's bordering on painful, it's delicious, it's all you've wanted all this time despite yourself.

"Fuck, you look so beautiful like this- squirming beneath me, taking my cock." Din breathes, and his voice is caught in his chest, breathless and needing as he ruts helplessly against you. Normally he would take his time, make sure to decimate you piece by piece until you were a whining, writhing mess until he at last took his pleasure from you. This isn't that. Din is fucking you like he's claiming you just as you taunted, reaping his reward for all the days and nights spent chasing you.

"D-Din!" You wheeze, reaching your other hand for him, seeking an anchor against the blinding pleasure of him carving you apart from the inside out. Din bends over you, and your hand finds purchase on the nape of his neck as you drag him downwards to your swollen, gasping lips.

Yet after only a few moments Din separates from you, his mouth wet with you. His other hand slithers up your shirt, groping the swell of your breast and seizing a nipple between his fingers. You keen a high sound in your throat, clamping around him tight enough for his hips to briefly stutter as he groans against you.

"Stars, you look so perfect like this, cyare." Din growls, his forehead braced against your as his breaths in your eyes gasp and whine. "So wet and open and needy for me."

You can hardly speak, your air robbed from your lungs with a particularly sharp snap of Din's hips, enough you feel the blunt head of his cock graze against your cervix. Your climax is so close it feels imminent, unavoidable as fate itself. You chase it with everything in you, jerking your hips down to meet Din's every thrust as he buries himself in your wet, tight heat.

"You missed this, didn't you, Mesh'la? I can tell, I can tell how much you wanted this." He croons, and his words are panted against your lips. You can only nod, lamenting the fact he's still in his armor, that you can't rake your nails down his back and mark him in turn.

"I thought about you every day, all the time." Din confesses breathlessly, and his words stoke a different heat within you, something new and affectionate, softer than this sharp, biting pleasure that writhes between you both. "Not a day went by that I didn't imagine you like this."

You feel the same, remembering all the nights you wished you could touch yourself to the thought of him like this, practically bending you in half as he sinks further and further into you, drinking in every sound and sensation of you like water to his waiting lips. At the time it felt wrong, the temptation of him. Now, now that you've surrendered the aroma of his infatuation is something you don't ever think you'll be able to get enough of for as long as you live.

"You really made me work to find you." He grunts above you, and your eyes catch a glimpse of his brow scrunched as he strains himself to speak past the mind blurring pleasure of burying himself in your core. "Maybe I should punish you for running-" and for a moment your breath hitches as you seize at the thought."-if I wasn't so proud of how far you made it."

His praise soothes you, feels like the smooth caress of his hands across your skin. It's true. You learned from him, let your keen eyes observe his methods and incorporate his lessons into your chase. It's the reason you were able to escape at all, were able to run for so long. It doesn't matter now though, not now where you are where you're meant to be."

"It doesn't matter." Din echoes against your thoughts. "I'll always find you, always bring you back."

Once, you would have feared that promise of his. Now it only feeds further into the arching flame within you as you bow off the mat under you and drive him further inside you. Din huffs as you whine loud and long, the sound bouncing off the walls of the metal container around you.

"You like that, Mesh'la?" He asks, and you hear the smug smirk on his lips in the darkness. "Can feel you getting close. You going to come for me?"

You nod frantically at him, your fingers digging under the back of his cowl and nails carving crescent moons into his nape. Din growls, the sound possessive and almost primal at the pain.

"Then come for me, cyare. Let me feel you break apart on my cock."

That's all it takes, and after only a heartbeat you're locking your legs around his hips, pulling him flush against you as your second orgasm burns bright and radiant inside you. You flutter and clamp down on him, and Din wheezes at the force of your cunt seizing on his cock as you breathlessly gasp his name, the sound choked and starved of air. Your hips tremble from the sudden, unrelenting pressure of it, and as they do you suddenly feel a spurt of warmth inside you as Din nearly shouts with the abruptness of his own orgasm.

Yet before you can even begin to climb down Din is suddenly withdrawing from you, and you keen at the loss, momentarily fucked beyond words and reduced to mere sounds as you desperately reach for your Mandalorian.

"Hands and knees, sweetheart." Din rasps, and you blink for a moment, trying to understand his words beyond the haze of your pleasure. Yet then you comply, and with shaking muscles you flip over, readjust to let the brunt of your weight bear down on your elbows as you present your slickened core to him once more. It feels shameless, completely depraved, and once long ago you’d refuse to do as much. Now, however, the gesture feels like a dark, savory indulgence that paints low and heady across your tongue.

Din doesn't give you any warning before he's sliding home once more, and you gasp at the fact that he's still hard despite his orgasm, and that you yourself aren't completely sated. Then Din is hauling you back against him so your entrance is flush with the dark snatch of curls at the base of his cock and your thoughts vanish altogether. It's all you can do to let your head fall between your arms, and whimper at the fact that the coiling, snaking need in your core still hasn't abated, that you need him still just as much as he needs you.

Then again, you suppose that was always the case.

Din can go deeper like this, and with every roll of his hips you feel the air punched from your lungs, feel your arms tremble as they try to bear your weight. The curve of his cock is pressing something deep within you that makes constellation bloom behind your eyelids, and with every heartbeat you're chanting his name like it's a prayer. He's gasping too, forcing out his voice from between his clenched teeth, snarling with the force of it.

"Mine, MINE." He growls into your shoulder, teeth skimming across the bare flesh there before he's nipping, sucking the skin between his lips and leaving yet another mark that you're his. You whine, wanting it despite the dull blossom of pain, need him to leave the imprint of his love all across your skin. It's too much, the force of him pounding inside you and his hands seizing your hips so hard you're sure there will be bruises there too. Yet the ache only fuels that fire brighter within you, and you whine at the pressure building there, the radiance of it burning hotter than the force of a star.

“I��ll make sure everyone knows you’re mine, mine and mine alone.” Din pants, voice rough as it drags within his chest, cracks over something there that threatens to fracture with greed. "Don’t ever forget."

How could you? How could you ever forget you're his, with the way he's completely decimating you in a way that leaves you wanting more? You're taking everything he gives you, and it feels so good, so right that the pleasure of that alone threatens to buckle your arms under you and let your face collapse into the mat.

It doesn't take long before you're reaching that peak again, muscles clenching as his cock buries himself within you with every stroke, bumping against the very core of you and leaving smoldering fireworks. With every drag of him out you surrender to his need and desire as much as he surrenders to yours. Yet it's hardly a single breath before he's filling you again, as strong and powerful as tides within an ocean washing over your skin and soaking you to the bone.

It's softer this time as you reach the edge of your endurance, but even so your orgasm ripples through you from head to toe, your entire body shivering under the reflex of your own desire.

"Again." Din murmurs like a command, and you try to shake your head, not sure you have another in you. Yet then he's reaching down between you, to the junction where you two meet before his fingers find your clit. The pleasure is so sudden and sharp you jerk with a small cry, and Din has to still for a moment to keep you from bucking. Yet even with his strength he can't keep you still as the rough pads of his fingers circle that bundle of nerves and you nearly sob with the sudden spike of pleasure that races through your blood.

It doesn't take much, not when you're still oversensitive and Din is rutting into you like he's trying to cleave you in two and pick up the pieces. You gasp, breath tightening and brain shorting out as Din presses down like that and you nearly scream with the suddenness of it, clenching tightly around Din's cock inside you like you can somehow keep him there.

That finally does it, and you collapse forward. Din grunts, catching you and hauling you backwards so the exposed small of your back presses against the cold metal of his armor. You gasp with each stuttering punch of his hips, shivering and overspent. Din buries his nose in your nape, the coarse hair of his mustache grazing against the soft skin at the base of your neck.

"Good girl." He grunts, breath choked as he thrusts once, twice, before completely burying himself inside of you with a heavy, pleased sigh. "My perfect girl."

You sigh, head lolling backwards as the world dulls to a pleasant fuzz around you. You can feel the wetness of him between your thighs, stomach still fluttering and unclenching as you slowly sink down from that teetering high he's taken you to.

"Yours." You mumble in reply, your senses heavy and sated. "Yours, Din."

Din purrs contentedly before the world tilts and you're being gathered into his arms, your head lolling before the weight of your senses drags you under.

---

You stay with him.

Din takes you back to his ship, your head tucked against his breast as you drift in and out of wakefulness, body heavy and spent. It takes tremendous effort just to keep your eyes open as the lonely midnight streets fade around you to the silent, empty confines of the Razorcrest II. Not that you really need to be awake, anyways. Din has you, he'll keep you safe, make sure you're protected and cared for. There's no more running now, no more wakeless daydreams of him chasing you, no paranoia clinging to you as tightly as your own shadow.

You really don't know why you left in the first place.

You're safe here, after all, in Din's arms as he practically coils himself around you in sleep. You don't know where the ship is, but it doesn't matter. What's more important is the steady beat of his heart underneath your palm, splayed across his bare chest. It's the scent of him, heavy and sweet across your senses, lulling you into his touch. It's the way his eyelashes flutter in sleep, lips parted as they spill endless devotions to you.

"I'd burn worlds for you, Mesh’la." He tells you, his lips skimming over the small of your back, teeth grazing over the sensitive, exposed flesh there. "I'll make you my queen."

You gasp, and with every breath you're breathing black smoke. You thought it would choke you, suffocate your soul and asphyxiate you. Instead, the aroma of it curls over your tongue like nectar, thick and heady. When you sigh, it's into his bare shoulder where you've bitten down hard enough to bruise, leaving him a needless reminder of how he belongs to you, and you to him.

"I'd go to the depths of hell for you." Din whispers with every desperate roll of his hips into yours, and you believe him. A part of you wonders if you're there already, here within the shadows of the afterlife, tormented by a curse beyond your control. If that were true, though, why does it feel so good?

You ponder the question sometimes, when Din has tired himself from the indulgence of your flesh and collapsed beside you, hauling you against him and burying his nose in your hair. The answer came to you readily once, and with each passing day it becomes harder to summon, to find the path out from this luscious, depraved madness.

The Darksaber. It clouds his voice and makes the veins under his skin darken with ink, makes his eyes glint in the darkness and strengthens his bones into beskar. There's something wrong with it, you know. It shouldn't be like this, the way Din hardly ever sleeps or eats, the way his stamina and strength seems supernatural. It isn't right, but you can't understand why. Maybe if you got rid of the blade you'd remember, you'd remember why this is so wrong despite the fact it feels so right.

"Don't worry, I'll keep you safe, forever and always." Din purrs into your ear, and sleep descends on you with a soft, inviting touch. Your eyelids flutter shut as you tuck yourself further into his arms, which tighten around you like they'll never let go ever again.

Soon, you tell yourself. Soon you'll find a way to get rid of the Darksaber, find a way out of this.

Soon. Soon, soon, soon...

TRUE END

---

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#Din djarin x reader #Din x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x f!reader #smut #18 +#minors dni #Fic: the hunted #my writing #my fic #This is....just rotten lol #I'm not completely satisfied with it but oh well #Back to our regularly scheduled programming now lol #reader insert #nobody look at me

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ad-astra-per-aspera-1389 · 7 months

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you know, we're taught about the horrors of war in school, but sometimes those lessons aren't when it sinks in. sometimes it's watching your friend sitting on the floor of your dorm remember he legally has to sign up for the draft. and he gives up and calls his mom instead, but then it hits you that if the government snaps and pushes the metaphorical big red button, it's your friend that's getting sent out there. your friend that doesn't like to be alone in social situations. your friend with the space themed bedspread and mickey mouse jacket and stuffed tiger and fluffy fold-up chair. and it hits you that these people that get sent out there if the government changes their mind one day aren't names without faces or vice versa. they're the kids you went to elementary school with. they're not just the boys that made fun of you; they're the kids that sat with you when no one else would; the kid that made you laugh because he wanted to. my english teacher senior year told us about this, when the military branches set up tables in the cafeteria the same month we read The Things They Carried. but in high school we were only focused on what came next. the military was just one of those options, and we were barely eighteen, and no one really talked about the draft. but now that we're adults, I'm sticking a poster to my dorm wall while my best friend drops his name into the world's deadliest raffle.

#i don't know where i was going with this #“oh but women should have to-”#shut the fuck up #no one should have to do that #who cares if the US hasnt utilized the draft in a stupid long time?#there was the war in ukraine and now in israel/palestine #its always fucking terrifying #i know we romanticize the old days and the “when will ___ return from war” memes #but i dont want to ever have to think about that really happening #its an odd kind of night to be thinking about this stuff but idk #war #the draft #this ones not a joke #but well be back to our regularly scheduled programming soon

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leclerc-s · 2 months

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she's married you idiots!

series masterlist

isabella perez mae, i wasn't aware you and max had gotten a divorce and you were now dating barry keoghan.

mae jones-verstappen oh my god who started it this time??

oscar piastri tmz

zoya torres and fans are definitely helping troll the others who think mae is dating barry.

max jones-verstappen why are they calling him bath water guy and grave guy??

oscar piastri as someone who watched the movie with his girlfriend for the "vine" trust me when i say you don't want to know.

lando norris you do not want to watch that movie, trust me.

isabella perez so that's a negative on you and barry?

max jones-verstappen i hope you get fired. mae jones-verstappen we had dinner, as friends, a while back, but max was with us. which is something tmz kindly left out.

logan sargeant i fucking hate tmz

arthur leclerc is this because they said zoya was dating louis? logan sargeant shut the fuck up?

pierre gasly i think charles is the only one who is safe from dating rumors.

natalia ruiz because the people love him and the italians lose their shit anytime someone implies charles is dating someone.

charles leclerc and they send natalia many dms asking her if we're over so that they can make a move on me.

arthur leclerc i am safe too.

dulce perez up until three months ago, everyone thought i was dating robert. not you. trust me, you are not safe.

rhys jones this? again?

sebastian vettel next they'll be saying max is dating daniel, again.

fernando alonso when did they ever stop saying that?

daniel jones-ricciardo he's my platonic soulmate! max jones-verstappen we're lovers but our wives don't know it yet. daphne jones-ricciardo i was under the assumption that my husband was in a secret love affair with ryan and that max was engaging in an affair with charles?

lewis hamilton a bunch of children, all of you.

fernando alonso starting with me, you, and seb. as the oldest we set the examples. sebastian vettel they learned from us lewis.

lewis hamilton i'm nowhere near as dramatic as you two!

rhys jones "well we're not friends." isabella perez "and teammate" george russell "taken out by my own teammate" lewis hamilton ALRIGHT I GET IT!

maejonesverstappen and maxjonesverstappen1 have posted new stories

i don't know about anyone else, but i spent valentine's day with my husband

ik houd van je

taglist: @burningcupcakefire @arkhammaid @sunflower-golden-vol6 @applopie @lorarri @mypage-myfandoms @bb-swift @thewannabewriter @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @stopeatread @hobiismyhopeu @lilsiz @alessioayla @niniluvsainz @au-ghosttype @cowboylikemets1989 @justtprachisblog @rmeddar123 @nichmeddar @landonorizzz @unluckyyoshi @Mimolovescookies @brekkers-whore @natcha888 @camdensreg @mycenterfold @dear-fifi @prongsvault @kaa212 @anxxiousaries @julesbabey1 @julesbabey @georgeparisole @Smnthnclj @dan3avocado @melissayalene @nothanqks @nikfigueiredo @bella-1 @namgification @jensonsonlybutton @chezmardybum @d3kstar @weekendlusting @anytimeanywherebitchblog @ragioniera @burberryfilms @trouble-sistar @lesliiieeeee @leclercsluv @33-81 @theseus-jpg @lorenaskaspersen @sarah-thatstings-ann @My-fangirling-outlet

strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

click here to be added to the honest series taglist

¡leclerc-s speaks! anyways, back to our regularly scheduled programing, not that i have a posting schedule, but i figured, you know i gave daniel and daphne two parts about relationship rumors why not give mae and max one. this is a product of that. honestly some of my best work comes when i am sleep deprived because insomnia is a bitch, this was written yesterday. is there anyone you guys would like to write relationship rumors about??

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #the honest series #formula 1 #formula 1 fic #max verstappen x female oc #fanfic #fanfiction #f1 #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 fic

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theitgirlnetwork · 6 months

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Better

Chapter 10: I Want Her

Charlotte's Club Outfit:

Charlotte's Baseball Outfit (Except Pretend it's a Cubs Jersey:

A Pic of People Being Subjected to Charlotte and Lip PDA:

Note: Hiii! This took longer than I thought, apologies, but here it is! It's a little shorter but when I'm less busy we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming. Thank you so much for all of the love I've been receiving on this, it means the world. I hope you all continue to enjoy reading :) <3 Also hopefully I got this damn tag list right this time. Let me know if you wanna be added!

Taglist: @comeonatmebruh @heavenly1927 @th3h0nkz @yezzyyae

“So, you don’t think he’d like a flask with a drunk Mickey Mouse on it?”

Lip chuckles as he balances his phone between his shoulder and his ear. His hands are busy jotting down a string algorithm for one of his bosses that he’d figured out and memorized earlier that morning. “I think Mickey would like us to buy him some shots while we’re out tonight. And I think Mickey deserves nothing but us showing the fuck up.”

“Aww,” Charlotte whines on the other line, Lip can basically hear the pout he knows is on her face. “I wanna give him something to open. Knowing you Gallaghers Ian’s probably just giving him dick for his birthday. He can’t unwrap that. Unless I pick up a bow for him to put on it.”

“Uh, really don’t want to think about you helpin’ my brother put a bow on his dick for his boyfriend, babe.” Lip sniffs, curling his lip up in distaste.

“Such a prude.” she chirps.

Lip ignores her, finishing up what he’s doing and ripping it from the notepad, going back to his computer to check his work. Suddenly, there’s a knock at his office door. It’s so weird for him to say, his office. Well, it's his and the other paid intern’s office to share. All of the poor fucks working for free share cubicles downstairs and the real employees get their own offices on Lip’s floor. But it’s mostly his, the other guy’s uncle is one of the big bosses and he rarely actually comes to work and normally when he does, it’s to play foosball with the other trust fund babies before going to happy hour. “Yeah?”

The door swings open and Eric comes strolling in, tossing a foam stress ball back and forth between his hands, the same douchebag look he always has is painted on his face. “Hey, Gallagher, you got time for a quick favor?”

“Uh, yeah. One sec,” Lip brings one hand to the phone, holding it sturdily against his ear. “Charlotte, I gotta go.” He tries to ignore the immediate irritation at the way Eric straightens when he hears Charlotte’s name.

“Ooh, Charlotte, huh? Someone important must be in the room.” she jokes.

“Oh, shit, the girlfriend. Put her on speaker.”

“I’m,” the blond tries and achieves, albeit poorly, to contain his temper. “I’m not putting her on speaker, man.”

“No, bubba, it’s okay, I’ll say hi.” her sweet voice intercedes. Lip curses under his breath before putting the phone on speaker. “Hi, I’m Phillip’s girlfriend, Charlotte.”

Eric pulls up one of the extra seats of the room, leaning into the phone rested on Lip’s desk. “Nice to meet you, I’m Eric, Gallagher’s boss.”

Lip scoffs disbelievingly, shaking his head, looking away. He could tolerate shitheads like Eric all day, but with his girlfriend watching? It was a whole new ball game. “Aye-”

“For now,” Charlotte hums on the other side of the line. “But my baby is a genius, he’ll be running that place soon.”

Both Eric and Lip go silent for a moment, the latter trying to work away the smug smile that starts to spread on his face. Eric blinks before schooling an easy look on his own face and offering a laugh that’s a little too loud. “Yeah, I believe it.”

There’s an awkward silence where Lip just watches Eric rock between his two feet, staring at the phone on the desk, waiting for Charlotte to take back what she said, compliment him to even things out, or just politely hang up. He smirks, ducking his head at the fact that this dickhead just doesn’t know his girl. Charlotte would ride an awkward silence until the wheels fell off. Simply because she doesn’t think to fill it. That’s just who she is, she doesn’t fill silence, she doesn’t laugh at jokes she doesn’t think are funny and her fake smile looks more like an awkward grimace.

After a minute passes Lip decides to take mercy on the poor guy and hang up. “Uh, bunny, I gotta get back to work, alright? I’ll meet you at the house when I get off.”

“‘Kay!” she chirps. “Love you.”

“Yeah, love you too.” Lip leans on the small wooden desk and waits for Eric to recover from the uncomfortable moment. “You, uh, needed something?”

“Right! Right, I did. Do. I need you to run some diagnostics on a program my dad sent over, I’d do it, but there’s so much on my desk right now, and you’re the only one who's as fast as me.”

“Sure,” Lip shrugs. “Send it over.”

Eric claps his hands together, a wider smile on his face as he turns to leave. The man stops mid-step, turning to face the blond again. “Hey, Gallagher, what’re you doing this weekend?”

“It’s my brother’s boyfriend’s birthday tonight so I’m gonna go to that. After that, I'll probably just find something to do with my girl, why?”

“You like baseball?” Eric asks. “Cubs are playing, me and some of the guys are going. You should come.”

Lip tries to look disinterested. He knows however much the tickets are he couldn’t pay it unless he dipped into the money he and Charlotte had been saving, and even then, it wouldn’t be enough to sit where these rich pricks sit unless he emptied the damn jar. “I dunno.”

“C’mon man, my dad already bought the tickets. It’s team bonding and shit.” Eric continues, leaning against the door frame. “It’s on Sunday, there’ll be beer and baseball, what more do you need to know? You can even bring your girl, everyone else does when we go. Except the ugly fuckers who don’t have one.”

“Alright, I’ll uh, talk to Charlotte.” Lip says noncommittally, eyeing the other man as he nods, turning away and exiting the office. “‘Fuckin’ weirdo.”

Ian used to worry about his brother a lot. Really. See, Lip is the oldest brother, and he’s never stepped out of that role. Despite coming off as a pretentious, narcissistic asshole, his big brother was actually a decent person. He cares about his family. When they were younger and Monica and Frank were in and out, Fiona and Lip had to grow up quickly. Everyone always talks about how Fiona stepped up. How she became their mom, but no one talks about how even though he was only a couple years older than Ian, Lip became their dad. For the younger kids, Lip is the only steady father figure they know.

And being real, the kid has fuckin’ issues with women. Probably Monica’s fault, and all of their mommy issues manifested in different ways, Lip and Carl just have the misfortune of being straight. Between that raging bitch Karen who literally got off on fucking shit up for him, that old bag he was fucking at school, that one rich crazy bitch, and Mandy, Lip had been through the ringer. Not that most of that chaos wasn’t self-made. Ian wasn’t blind, he knows his brother is a slut.

So, when sweet, prissy, little Charlotte Fisher rolled into town with her big innocent brown eyes, wide smile and soft hands that would tell anyone she’s never worked a day in her life, Ian had been nervous. She’s nice, their little siblings love her, and he thought his brother would absolutely ruin her. Sometimes he still does think that.

But as time goes on, his mind has started to change. Lip has never called a girl his girlfriend outside of trying to get her into bed before. He’s never walked around with a polaroid picture of a girl in his wallet. He’s never tried this hard. This shit might be for real and Ian is happy about it.

Now, he and Mickey have an actual couple to hang out with.

“Last one.” Lip takes a deep drag from the blunt between his fingers, turning his head in the direction away from Charlotte as he blows out the smoke. He passes the blunt back to Mickey before walking a couple steps away where his girlfriend stands, wrapping his arms around her to share the warmth as she shivers. “Told you you’d be cold. Gonna catch fuckin’ pneumonia.”

“The cold doesn’t make p-people sick. G-germs do.” she sasses, leaning into him, letting out a small sneeze. “Don’t say anything.”

“Too worried about being cute. Should’ve made you put some fuckin’ clothes on.”

“Nah,” Mickey says, flicking the burnt leftovers of the blunt to the ground, walking over. “Princess here is our ticket to free drinks, she’s dressed the part.”

“We’re not pimpin’ my fuckin’ girlfriend, Mickey.”

“Isn’t she gonna start strippin’ like, next week? What’s the difference?”

“Oh-kay.” Ian interrupts, throwing his arm around Mickey’s shoulder, pulling him closer to him, “Let’s go in.”

“Wait,” Charlotte pauses, before they can start walking up the street to the bar. “Is, um, is Mandy coming? Because, you’re her brother and I don’t wanna, like,” she gestures between her and Lip, “rub it in, you know?”

“Nah, you’re good. M’seein’ her tomorrow, shithead has to work tonight.” Mickey shrugs. “Now, I’m sick of standin’ here talkin’, it’s my fuckin’ birthday and I’m fuckin’ sober, it’s ridiculous.”

The group makes their way into the busy bar. It was one of the few nights they had a DJ instead of a live band which was likely the reason it was so busy. Mickey and Ian shove their way through the crowd, Charlotte right behind them with Lip’s arm around her waist, hand resting on her stomach, holding her to him.

Once they find a spot with a little space, Mickey turns around and nudges Charlotte. “C’mon princess, this pussy already said he’s not drinkin’ cause he thinks he needs to watch me or somethin’, go shot for shot with me.”

Before the woman can even answer her boyfriend’s free hand is cupping her jaw, guiding her to look back at him, pulling her into a kiss. The word ‘no’ mumbled against her lips. She pouts, and the pair mumble amongst themselves as Ian and Mickey watch. After a few moments Lip rolls his eyes and nods, kissing her lips again before letting her go.

Charlotte bounces excitedly, grinning at Mickey. “Kay, you wanna see something cool?” Without letting him answer, she straightens, rolling her shoulders back and putting an arch in her back as she walks a little ways away to the bar where a couple of guys are standing. She leans forward on the bar, poking her butt out a little as she looks around, appearing bored.

It’s not long before one of the guys turns to her and starts talking, leaning down to whisper in her ear as his friends behind him stare at her ass. Ian turns his head to look at Lip, who is looking away from his girlfriend, the muscle in his jaw working overtime.

A couple moments later, Charlotte was coming shuffling back with three shots and a beer balanced in her hands, a bright smile on her face. “Drinks on me gentlemen.” she says, passing two shots to Ian, one for him, one for Mickey and handing Lip the beer. Lip’s finger slips through her back belt loop, tugging the girl to him again as he locks eyes with the guys who've purchased them over her head, sipping the beer they’d just paid for.

“Bottoms up, princess.” Mickey says, bring his glass to Charlotte’s before tossing it back. The men chuckle as the girl sputters and gags at the taste, one eye twitching with discomfort. Lip runs his hand along her side soothingly.

“Yuck, I don’t want any more of those.”

Charlotte had several more. Three and a half. She didn’t get a chance to finish the last shot before Lip wrestled it from her hands, slamming it down on the bar and pulling her away from it.

She, Mickey and Ian had done their fair share of dancing. It mostly consisted of Ian and Charlotte taking turns grinding on Mickey to irritate him and the two men occasionally stepping away to dance with each other, only pausing to scare off whatever guy that was trying to get Charlotte to give them the time of day. Lip lingered at the bar, offering them supportive nods and nursing his beer. He’d chosen not to drink too much considering he’d already smoked and his girlfriend was currently slurring her words together as she stumbled her way over to him.

“Hi, bubba.” she hums over the loud music, swaying to the side a little as Lip’s arm shoots out to balance her, pulling her to him. He nudges her nose with his before looking at her wide smile and lidded eyes.

“Hi, baby. Havin’ fun?” He smiles.

“Yeah.” she tosses her arms around his neck leaning into him. “Stop laughin’ at me.”

“M’not, c’mon.”

“You haven’t danced with me at all, let’s go over there.” she whines, pulling at him and pouting.

Lip taps her lightly on the back of the thigh, “Stop whining” he murmurs in her ear before turning her so her back is against his front. Lip slides his hands down Charlotte’s sides to her hips, pulling her close to him. “I don’t dance.”

The woman in front of him rolls her eyes, placing one hand over his and the other going to the back of his head, burying in the hair at his nape. She turns her head so she can look at him with a sleepy smile. “You do with me.”

Lip leans back on the bar, wetting his lips as he watches Charlotte roll her ass back against him, grinding on his dick. His blue eyes shift between her ass and trying to get a glimpse of her face, one of his hands moving to the gap in the back of her jeans, grabbing the space there to guide her movements, biting back a groan when she bends in further, arching in front of him.

“Gettin’ sick of this place, ready to go birthday boy?” Ian asks as Mickey yawns. His mission was accomplished, he’d taken his boyfriend out, showed him a good time for his birthday. Tomorrow they’d do the family vibe, with cake, streamers, and his one sane sibling. He slings his arm around him and goes to guide him over to his brother and his girlfriend. The last he’d seen the pair they’d been basically fucking through their clothes against the bar.

The redhead pauses in his steps, laughing disbelievingly at the sight in front of him.

A couple feet away is his brother, his girlfriend in his arms. The pair are quietly laughing and leaning back and forth to whisper in each other’s ears. His brother’s stance is relaxed, the only thing tense on him is his grip on his swaying drunk girlfriend, an easy smile that Ian hasn’t seen in a long time on Lip’s face. If he didn’t know better he’d say he seemed happy. Charlotte’s hands cup his face as she drunkenly presses kisses all over his face, leaving pink lip stains all over his mouth, cheeks and neck.

Ian didn’t want to break up the scene but he’d really needed to get Mickey home. Once he’s rounded up the group, he and Lip guide their drunken partners to the car, ushering them in, and shushing Mickey’s slurred curses. After he drives Ian and Mickey to Mickey’s home Lip pulls off with a still very drunk but now a lot less rowdy Charlotte in the passenger seat, promising to return the car the next day.

Ian watches as his older brother climbs into the driver’s seat of the car, checking the girl’s seatbelt and brushing the hair out of her face tenderly before the drive into the night. As much as he’d felt bad for Mandy he’d known that she and his brother would never work. Ian loves her, but Lip didn’t. Not the way she wanted. He couldn’t convince her of that. But Ian almost wishes that she’d seen Lip tonight. He was a different person when he was with Charlotte, not so bitter. Not acting like he was walking around with the weight of the world on his shoulders. As crazy and fucked up he is, Ian knows Mickey is what’s best for him. He’s starting to think Charlotte is what’s best for Lip.

“Fuckin’ Frank.” Fiona huffs, ripping her covers off at the sound of her front door opening. She’d bet all of the dollars she doesn’t fucking have that it’s him. Either way, him or whatever idiot decided to try to rob them were gonna get a bat to the face. She eases down the stairs, wooden weapon in her hand as she flicks the light on. “Jesus, Lip!”

“Shut the fuck up!” he whisper-yells. Slung over his shoulder is a giggling, very likely drunk Charlotte.

“Shit, is Lottie drunk? Good going genius she’s not supposed to drink ‘til her birthday.” Fiona hisses, running a hand over her hair and dropping the bat onto the couch.

“Well, Mickey decided they’d share today.” Lip grumbles, adjusting his girlfriend on his shoulder before pushing past his sister and going up the stairs, rolling his eyes as he feels her following closely behind.

Lip rests Charlotte softly on the bed, looking sighing as she flops backward. “No baby,” he pulls her up by her arms. “Up.”

Fiona leans in the doorway and watches in shock as her little brother cares for the girl on the bed in front of him. She’d never seen him be so gentle with anyone they weren’t related to. He chuckles lightly as he encourages the still giggling girl to lift her arms, tugging her tight t-shirt up and over her head, reaching around and unhooking her bra before digging in his drawer and pulling out one of his bigger shirts to pull over her head. “Pass me one of your wipes if you’re gonna stand there.”

“Oh-” Fiona had forgotten herself, so shocked by the scene, she quickly walks over to the bathroom, grabbing her pack of makeup wipes and handing them to her brother.

Lip takes the wipes and crouches in front of the girl, resting his hands on her knees. “Wanna go wash your face or are wipes good for now. Can you get up?” Charlotte’s eyes are clearly heavy, she leans her forehead against his, giggling as she shakes her head no, rubbing their heads together. “No? Okay, eyes closed, bunny, or it’ll burn.” The woman whimpers and struggles drunkenly as he drags the cold wipe across her face. Blue eyes sharp with focus as he tries to get every bit off. When he’s satisfied that he’d gotten all he could he kisses her lips before pushing off of the floor and reaching under his pillow, producing a light pink scarf. “Stay still, you know m’not good at this part.”

“Don’t wan’it.” she whines.

“You’re drunk, and you’re gonna be pissed tomorrow, if I don’t put this shit on you. Sit still.” Lip cups her jaw, giving her a serious look, only to be met with a wide grin. Fiona chuckles behind them, shrugging when her brother cuts his eyes at her.

“She’s gonna need aspirin and water for tomorrow.” Fiona offers.

“Yeah, I fuckin’ know, I’ve had her chugging water since the bar-ow!”

Both Gallagher siblings look down to a now half asleep Charlotte, clean faced with her scarf tied as neatly as Lip could manage on her head, hanging slightly to one side. Her hand is up, offending fingers suspended in the air after pinching Lip’s arm roughly. “Ow.” she mocks, her eyes closing. “Be nice. She’s helping, trying to help me.” she slurs.

Lip rolls his eyes, offering a gruff, ‘sorry’ to his sister, as he nudges his girlfriend to lie down in the bed, kissing her forehead. “‘M’fuckin’ helpin’ you, brat.”

Another hand reaches out, this time to roughly tap him on the cheek. “Thank you, bubba.”

Fiona snickers again. “Bubba?”

Lip huffs, now starting to get himself ready for bed, flicking his sister off as a cue for her to exit. Fiona quietly closes the door behind her and returns to her room.

As she climbs into bed, she thinks to herself about all of the times she’d been embarrassed about her brothers’ behavior with women and men alike. They were sluts, the both of them, minus Liam and Carl. And often selfish, rude and disrespectful. But now they’d both found people who made them better. Who taught them how to care for people the right way, outside of the family. She was happy to watch them experience young love, no catches, no conditions, no reason to be hard all the time. They’d found people who looked at them like they were worth something. Worth everything. Fiona resolves to herself that she would find that for herself and hope her remaining siblings would do the same. She hated not being able to chat with V about the extent of Lip and Charlotte’s relationship. But maybe it was worth it. Maybe Charlotte and Mickey were. Even if they are extra mouths to feed.

Eric takes a sip of his beer and nods along with another dull conversation with his coworkers that he was forced to pretend he was friends with. They’d been here for fifteen minutes and thus far, two of them had disappeared to do coke in the bathroom, several of them had fought with their girlfriends/wives/fiancés and the rest had been droning on and on about the stock exchange, something that he truly knows nothing about. His fucking accountant handles that shit for him. He was bored and annoyed to say the least. The game hadn’t started yet and Rebecca had been a bitch all morning. She was mad because she didn’t feel like coming to sit through a baseball game, despite the fact that they’d not only have a box but an open bar pre-paid for. The only thing that got her dressed was a promise to take her out for sushi after. Eric fucking hates sushi.

Really, he was waiting on Gallagher. He’d actually been surprised with how much he liked Lip. He figured they’d have nothing to talk about, but the guy was pretty quiet in general. He was a great listener, and when he did say shit, it was actually important. Sure he seemed a little wound-up but he’d heard from his dad that their family friend, Ms. Helene helped him get this job because he’s broke and has got like, a family of 9 or something. Eric found the little snippets of Lip’s life he shared interesting. Like…well…his hot sister who’d stopped by for lunch one day. And his even hotter girlfriend he has a picture of on his desk, next to the picture of the 5,000 kids he lives with.

Lip shows up with Charlotte fifteen minutes before the game is about to start. The pair walk up, hand in hand, matching pace with his easy strides and her peppy steps. When they approach one of the guys from legal (Eric thinks) says what they’re all thinking under his breath. “Goddamn.”

The woman is wearing a cropped, long sleeved black top with low hanging black pants, her sparkling belly button ring on display. Over top is a button down jersey she’s left open and on her head is a matching Cubs hat, her long, silky black hair hanging down over her shoulders.

Lip is wearing a similar outfit, but with a black fitted sweater, his larger fingers intertwined with her smaller manicured ones.

Eric forces himself to stop ogling the girl, clapping his hands together and welcoming them over. “Gallagher! You made it, glad you came.”

“Uh, thanks for having us.” he pulls the girl closer by her waist, obviously noticing the eyes on her. “This is my girlfriend, Charlotte.”

“Hi, nice to meet you.” The girl says sweetly, offering him a smile as she leans into her boyfriend.

Eric urges his eyes to stay on her face, and off of their body language. But the way Lip’s thumb is rubbing along the skin on the girl’s waist, the way she’s staring up at him so adoringly, Eric felt like he was being excluded from something, despite fully being part of this conversation.

He doesn’t realize he hadn’t spoken until Lip takes it upon himself to introduce him. “Bunny, this is Eric.”

“Oh, uh yeah, I’m Eric, I uh-” he remembers her negative reaction to him referring to himself as Lip’s boss and flounders for an alternative. “I work with Lip.”

“Yeah, he told me.” she chirps, rocking on her feet a little. “Thanks for inviting us. I’ve never gone to a baseball game. I’m gonna try my best to keep up, Phillip tried his best to explain to me on the way here.”

“Aw really? Well, my girlfriend Becca is an old pro, I drag her here all the time, she’ll teach you the ropes of how to keep occupied while we watch the game. Go join the ladies, she’s the one looking like she didn’t know she was coming here in slacks.” Eric smiles. His smile drops slightly as he watches the couple exchange a look.

Lip tilts his head downward, lowering his voice to a murmur Eric strains his ears to hear. “Do you wanna go?”

Charlotte mulls it over for a second before shrugging and patting his chest. “Yeah, it’s fine, hang with the guys, I’ll come back over if you miss me too much.”

“Yeah, whatever, brat, go make nice.” The blond banters back, patting his girlfriend’s ass as he kisses her before playfully shoving her in the direction of the women gathered around the drinks. Lip sidesteps a little, blocking the crowd of men staring at the woman’s ass as she makes her way over to the other girls. “You, uh, guys make bets already?”

Trevor, some guy from…marketing (Eric swears he’s seen him on that floor) sighs, “No, thank God you brought it up-”

Suddenly, they’re a very lively bunch, placing bets that Lip is apparently calling, pulling off his own hat and placing the money in it. Eric tries to focus on the fun and Lip’s apparent godlike memory that allows him to remember who said what, but his eyes keep drifting. He watches as every couple of minutes, Charlotte and Lip look at each other, checking in without saying a word before returning to their respective groups. Once, Charlotte had come over to bring Lip a beer once she’d noticed all the other guys had one. The only time Rebecca had come over was when she wanted money for a fresh pretzel and even then, Charlotte had been in tow. Apparently, the two women had been getting along well. Becca had demanded enough money to get Charlotte a pretzel too, to which Gallagher immediately reached in his wallet and produced money Eric knew he didn’t have to spare, and gave it to the woman. When they’d come back, Eric’s girlfriend had a pretzel she was already eating and Lip’s had chicken tenders and fries for them to share.

As the game got more interesting and the men started shouting and getting excited, the women grew antsy, Charlotte included. Seth’s girlfriend was really intrigued by the game, but that may have also been because she’s into baseball players. Becca was posted up in the corner, on the phone with the restaurant she wanted to go to and Charlotte was standing behind Lip’s chair, hands on his shoulders.

“Come sit, baby.” he says, patting his lap. Charlotte huffs as she makes her way around the front, plopping down in his lap and resting her cheek against his. “Lemme hear it.”

“I’m bored.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah and this game is long and you didn’t mention that.”

“You done?”

“No, and it’s cold.” Charlotte sighs. “Now, I’m done.”

“Now you’re done. Cool, I can go back to watchin’ now or what?”

Oof. Eric thinks, waiting for her to start yelling, throwing a fit until Lip offers her something to calm down. That’s what they all want, he thinks. Instead, her brows furrow and she glances at Eric before grabbing the color of Lip’s shirt, tugging his ear to her lips to whisper into it.

Blue eyes go wide for a moment before a ‘uh, fuck yeah, I wanna do that.’ is murmured and she’s hopping off of his lap. “Uh, hey man, we’ll be right back, do we need a code to get back in or…”

“Oh, no, man you’re good. You guys okay? If you need something they’ll bring it in here if we call down-”

“I left something I need in the car.” Charlotte intercepts, pulling at Lip again, leading him out of the suite. Moments later Rebecca sits down in Lip’s seat next to Eric, letting out a sigh.

“So, Phillip’s girlfriend gets to leave and I don’t?”

30 minutes later and the pair comes back, looking relatively the same, despite being slightly disheveled and what appears to be a fresh hickey blooming on Charlotte’s neck. The game is almost over and immediately Lip gets back into wheeling and dealing. He starts settling up on bets while Charlotte collects the numbers of the other girls.

“No seriously, we need to keep in touch.” Rebecca smiles, hugging the girl tightly.

“Yeah, girl, I’d love that, we should hang out soon.” Charlotte hugs back. “Maybe we’ll even let Phillip and Eric come on our date.”

“Maybe, but we’re gonna have to hang out without prying ears too. I’ve been watching you two, you’ve got to tell me what type of shit you’re pulling in the bedroom, you’ve got blondie wrapped around your finger. Eric told me you’ve only known each other a couple of months and at this rate you’ll end up with a ring before me.”

“I…I’m sure that’s not true.” Charlotte says quietly, letting her eyes travel over to her man, unsurprised that he looks over to her as soon as she reaches him, eyes locking. They’ve been in sync like that a lot lately. “How long have you two been together?”

“Since high school,” The girl huffs. “He’s dragging his feet as all men do. I mean, I’ve played my part, even got mommy and daddy’s approval. On both sides. We’re all fucking waiting on him. You’re smart, getting in on the ground up, not picking one that was born with a golden spoon shoved down his throat. But my parents wouldn’t settle for less. Guess yours are trusting the process.”

“Um, exc-” Before Charlotte can finish, Eric gestures Rebecca over and the girl pats her arm one more time before going to her boyfriend. Charlotte makes her way over to Lip, thoughts heavy. They are getting more serious. Despite being together for a short amount of time, she can’t imagine her life without him now. She’d been dodging the concept of introducing him to her parents for a while because she knew how’d they’d act. She’d seen a live demo of it with Kev. They’d treat him like white trash, the last thing Charlotte thought of him as. They’d be condescending, and mean. But it’d happen eventually, because…well she doesn’t plan on going anywhere, and she hopes he doesn’t plan to either.

After everyone gets separated in the crowd of people leaving the game, Eric waits on the sidewalk for the car he’d called for him and Rebecca. She was babbling about something or another he didn’t care about when he saw Charlotte and Lip. The woman is giggling loudly as the man tickles her, the two of them damn near bumping people every few seconds as if no one else was here.

“I’m never going to a game with you again” the girl breathes, gasping in air as he stops tickling and starts holding her hand.

Eric watches as Lip rolls his eyes, pulling her into him as he walks her to the passenger side of some old, beat up truck. “Yeah, okay,” he laughs, opening the door for her, “I can hear you now when I try to go without you, ‘bubba, please, take me with you, I’ll be bored without you,’” he mocks.

“I don’t sound like that.”

“No?” he snorts, closing her door and going around to the driver’s side.

As he watches them interact Eric can’t help but think, he wants what they have. There’s a small pang of jealousy that rings in his chest. But it isn’t until he watches Charlotte lean over to manually unlock the door on the driver’s side so Lip can get in that an even more intrusive thought enters his mind.

I want her.

#lip gallagher #lip gallagher x oc #lip gallagher x reader #oc #fiona gallagher #ian gallagher #kevin ball #shameless #veronica fisher #gallagher #love #charlotte fisher #better #ian x mickey #mickey milkovich

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strangermarvelss · 2 years

Text

partners?- e.m

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Cheerleader!Reader

Summary: you've been working together with dustin on some side work and eddie gets jealous

Warnings: bit of angst but not really, wingman!dustin, fluffy end

Request: Yes

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: another lovely request! hope i did your dream justice lol. enjoy! -sava

“Tonight at 7 work for you Dustin?” You ask, lunch tray in hand as you and then freshman boy walk closer to his lunch table. The two of you stop when you approach the well known Hellfire table, you looking up and flashing the boys a smile, your eyes lingering on the repeat senior Eddie Munson for a few moments before hearing Dustin respond.

“Yeah, 7 is good. Can you drive me though?” He asks.

“How about I just meet you at your house?” You question. You watch him nod and jump for a second, before bidding him and the other boys goodbye and head off to eat with the rest of the cheer squad. You plop yourself down next to the other girls in your usual seat and begin eating your food.

“I’m totally telling Suzie,” Mike teases as Dustin sits next to him. He scoffs at the Wheeler boy and begins unpacking the lunch his mother prepared for him.

“Yeah, like how could you? Does Never Ending Story mean nothing to you anymore?” Lucas says with sarcasm dripping in his tone. The table erupts into a fit of giggles, causing your head to perk up for a moment from your own. You always admired the Hellfire club, even with them being labeled as outcasts and freaks. They were unapologetically themselves and it was something you wish you could do yourself.

“Will you guys give it a rest? She’s coming over to work on our programing project, we just got paired together last period,” Dustin explains to the table. At the head of the table, the Dungeon Master himself was watching the curly haired freshman with an envious look, his big round eyes beginning to twitch. He felt a nudge come from his side and looked over, causing him to drop his bag of mini pretzels on the table.

“You alright there, Eddie?” Gareth asks.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” The metalhead retorts, scoffing and picking his pretzels up and jamming them in his mouth.

“Oh, I don’t know, just saw you staring daggers at the freshmen over there who has plans with your girl,” Gareth responds back. Eddie’s eyes are quick to glare at him as the table falls silent, a few “oohs” scattering around.

“Your girl? You’ve never even talked to her,” Mike says matter-of-factly. Lucas nudges him in his side, cause Mike to yelp out an in pain.

“Wait, Eddie…do you like Y/N?” Dustin asks him. Everyone’s eyes were now on Eddie once again, a blush beginning to form at his cheeks that he quickly tries to wipe away, which ultimately doesn’t help.

“Shut it Wheeler. And keep your voice down Henderson!” Eddie replies, looking over at the sea of jocks in hopes you weren’t able to hear the conversation from where you sat. He watches your eyes beam as you talk with your other cheer friends, the smile on your face stretching from ear to ear as the bow in your hair moves frantically as you speak. Good, you didn’t hear them.

“Eddie’s had a crush on her since last year, but has been too chicken shit to do anything about it. He just stares and hopes from a far,” Jeff explains to the freshmen members. Eddie was getting physically embarrassed, trying to hide his face and reactions from the truth being spilt out into the open.

“Didn’t know you had a thing for cheerleaders Ed,” Dustin says, shoveling a cracker into his mouth. Eddie rolls his eyes and begins to pick at his pretzels a bit.

“Not just any ol’ cheerleader Henderson,” he begins, looking over to the table where you remained. “Just her.”

“Awwww,” the entire Hellfire table said in unison, making Eddie jump from his seat and beginning to throw his trash away.

“Oh bite me.”

The lunch bell springs to life, notifying everyone to stream out of the cafeteria and back to their regularly scheduled academics. One by one, the Hellfire members rise from their seats and discard of their trash, making their way out of the cafeteria in groups.

“Henderson, wait up,” Eddie calls out, jogging to walk with Dustin towards his next class. “Hey I was wondering, if, uh-you could talk me up to Y/N tonight? You know, casually, make sure its organic. Don’t force it, ya know?” he rambles to the boy. Dustin claps his hand on Eddie’s shoulder and nods.

“Yeah, I’ll see what comes up and make sure to tell her you’re a catch,” he says with a smile. Eddie returns his smile, then flinches when the warning bell rings.

“Shit, can’t be late. Thanks man, I appreciate it!” He exclaims as he scurries down the hall, trying not to be late to Miss O’Donell’s class for who knows however many times now.

———————————————————————————————

You pull up to the address Dustin gave you after school when you were on your way to cheer practice, turning the engine to your car off and climbing out with your backpack in hand. You walk up the path and knock on the door, quickly greeted by a blonde woman with a warm smile.

“You must be Dustin’s partner, Y/N. Dusty! Your partner is here!” She exclaims. She shifts to the side and her hand motions you to step inside, allowing you to match her smile and step through the threshold. You look around for a moment, taking in the cozy nature of Dustin’s home, with family photos and baby pictures scattered around the living room. It warmed your heart seeing people’s domestic life, especially someone as sweet as Dustin.

“Hey, Y/N! Follow me, my room is this way,” Dustin greets you, that braces filled smile growing on his face. You head down the hallway following him.

“Remember to keep your door open Dusty since you’re in there with a girl!” she exclaims sweetly down the hall. You chuckle to yourself as Dustin turns to you, cheeks bright red and an embarrassed look on his face, causing you to giggle.

“Mom!” He yelps out, his voice cracking a little with the hitch pitch tone. You set you bag down next to you as you take a seat on his desk, looking around at all the posters on his wall and figures scattered across various surfaces. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s all good,” you laugh out, bending down to retrieve your books and pencil from your backpack. The two of you begin to bounce ideas off one another in an attempt to get some kind of footing for your project, the lightbulbs flashing for you both once an idea finally landing. Programming was kind of something you wanted to get into, as nerdy as it might sound. You were feeling a lack of passion lately, with the same routine every day putting you in a slump. Wake up, eat, go to school, cheer practice, the Friday night games for both football and basketball with the change of the season quickly approaching, go home, sleep, repeat. It was getting tiresome and you thought signing up for the new programming elective would be an interesting twist.

You go to put your books back in your bag as the two of you continue to talk, searching for some blank flashcards to write down your idea and some methods you both thought would make for a successful project when your walkman falls out, along with the tape you’d found solace in recently.

“Is that a Metallica tape?” Dustin asks you. You pick it up and hold it close to you, smiling at the freshman’s question.

“Yeah, it’s been my go to tape for a few weeks now. I’m trying to expand my interests and I really vibe with their music,” you explain, playing around with the tape for a bit before putting it back in your bag.

“You know,” Dustin begins, shifting a bit on his bed causing you to raise your eyebrows at him. “Eddie, you know Eddie, right? Course you do, everyone does. Anyway, h-he likes Metallica too. I bet he could give you some recommendations for some other bands. Only if you’re interested of course.”

“You really think he’d do that for me?” You question, a blush creeping up your neck and onto the apples of your cheeks, which you try to cover up a bit.

“Yeah of course! He loves giving music suggestions. Why wouldn’t he do that for you?” Dustin asks.

“I dunno…I just feel like he’d never go for anyone like me-shit, I mean talk to someone like me. He always goes on those rants in the cafeteria about popularity being a construct and how jocks and the, freaks, as he calls them, I don’t think of them like that, don’t get along and, uh. Yeah I dunno,” you ramble on, your hands making weird attempts to distract Dustin from your words as you speak. You scratch the back of your neck, embarrassment seeping into your bones and you feel the boy’s eyes staring at you, his jaw slightly agape.

“Go for anyone like you? Y/N…do you like Eddie?” He questions again. Man this kid had a lot of questions. You turn to look at him, trying to hide the smile on your face as you nod.

“You cannot tell him though. I know your club is close but Dustin, I’m begging you not to say anything, please?” You ask, scooting his desk chair closer to him and placing your hands on his shoulders to show him just how serious you were. He nods and you remove your hands, a relieved sigh quickly soothing you from any worries you had felt within the last few minutes. “Alright, well I should probably get back home and work on my other homework for the night.”

You stand from his chair as you gather the last of your things and walk out into the hallway of the Henderson household. You flash a smile at Dustin’s mother, who was in a rocking recliner chair holding their family cat. You walk out the door and down the path again when you hear Dustin calling after you, turning on your heel slightly to meet his gaze.

“Come sit with us at lunch tomorrow. We can talk more about the project, and maybe Eddie will give you some suggestions on music too,” he offers. You nod and wave him goodbye, hopping into your car with a smile as you turn the engine one once again and pull out of his driveway.

———————————————————————————————

Smiling at the lunch lady, you take your tray and walk towards the Hellfire table and take a deep breath. Being nervous about sitting with the club was not something you were used to. You knew them all briefly, exchanging pleasantries when you saw them around the school, which made the other girls on your cheer squad question your sanity, but you didn’t care. They were nice guys and you wished the rest of the school could see them that way.

As you approach the table, you see Dustin look over his shoulder and smile at you, waving you over. You return the smile and scoot pass a few people to get to the open seat, which was right next to Eddie.

“Hey guys,” you greet them, setting your tray down and pulling the chair out to plop down in. You notice the guys staring at you, even the frizzy haired metalhead, blinking a few times as if to make sure this was really happening.

“Uh, hey, Y/N. What’cha doin’ at our table?” Eddie asks you, his chocolatey eyes making contact with yours. You feel your heart quite literally skip a beat, never having been this close in proximity to Eddie, only longing and staring at him from a far. His big eyes were intimidating yet hypnotizing, feeling as if you could swim in the brown sea of his irises. You quickly realize you were staring, and snap out of it before it become creepy.

“Y/N and I were going to talk more about our project. Hope you all don’t mind her joining us today,” Dustin answers for you, looking around the table as everyone nods. You look back over at Eddie, who kept his eyes on you for a moment, before being pulled away by Dustin’s voice, discussing the project a little. Picking at your food a bit, you and Dustin come to a mutual understanding of how you want the project to be completed and agree to a schedule so you can both get a good grade when the project comes due in a few weeks.

“By the way Eddie,” Dustin abruptly says with a snap of his fingers, causing you to jump a little. Your eyes look towards Eddie, who stares at the freshman boy with annoyance, making you giggle just a bit. “I was wondering if you had some music recommendations? Y/N here recently got into Metallica and was talking with me about getting some insights on other bands to listen to.”

Eddie blinks for a second, his eyes darting between you and Dustin for a moment.

“You, Y/N L/N…like Metallica?” He asks simply, his face deadpanned and voice treading lightly. You nod your head and slowly look away from him, starting to feel slightly embarrassed.

“Uh, yeah. I got into them a few weeks ago.”

“Hmm, interesting. Well I’m not one to judge a book by its cover. So there’s this band called-“ Eddie begins to say, but is interrupted by the sharp sound of the lunch bell. He lets out a dramatic groan and rises from his seat in order to throw his trash away, which you follow suit.

“Do you want to tell me about them on the way to O’Donnell’s? Since we have the class together?” You ask him, digging your hands into the pockets of your jeans. You watch his smile grow, his dimples coming to life as he nods and begins to walk with you towards class. As the two of you walk out of the cafeteria, Dustin begins to jump around and scream in excitement.

“My plan totally worked! I am the best wingman ever.”

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ellesliterarycorner · 2 years

Text

Tips for Writing Plot Twists

Well, after a very long, unexpected House of the Dragon fandom break, we are now back to our regularly scheduled writing program! Funnily enough, this is kind of House of the Dragon related because today we are talking about writing plot twists. And not just any plot twists, plot twists that make sense and don’t leave your reader wanting to pull their hair out and throw your book across the room. Writing plot twists is a lot harder than it looks. I know that when I read a book with a great plot twists that I actually didn’t see coming, I always wanna give the writers a little round of applause because that is impressive my friends. Especially in the day and age of super common tropes and readers’ having particular expectations, it’s always nice when there’s a new innovative twist out there. Worry not, here are a few simple twists that will help you on your way to writing the best plot twist for your story!

WWTRD??

What would the reader do, my friends? In order to write a good plot twist, you need to try and put yourself in the shoes of the reader who will actually be reading this. This might seem like a pretty obvious tip, but it’s one of the most simple and effective ones out there! As you’re going through your story or even your outline, write down all of the ways that you would normally expect the story to go. What potential twists and turns immediately come to mind? Write every single one of those down and then make sure that your plot twist does not include any of them. Especially if you read and write in the same genre (like I do, fantasy and sci-fi all the way), then your brain probably works in the same way as most of your readers. Like I mentioned above, people who always read in the same genre are used to the conventions and standards of their genre. Unfortunately for us writers, that makes it a lot harder to come up with a plot twist. I recommend looking at the list of plot twists that we’re going to throw out and writing down the opposite of all of those. That’s always good advice, imo. If you feel like your story is getting too predictable, take it in the complete opposite direction. When even you’re surprised by what’s going on, you’re on the right track!

Bread Crumbs a la Hansel and Gretel

The original versions of fairytales are absolutely terrifying. I had to look into them for one of my English classes and boy, oh boy, childhood = ruined. Anyways, just like Hansel and Gretel with their little bread crumbs, you want to subtly guide the readers’ attention away from any potential plot twist, so the twist is all the more surprising. You always want to make your readers think they know what’s going on, then flip all of that on its head. There are a lot of different tools that you can use to do that like red herrings, false flags, or other types of MacGuffins. These decoys deliberately plant false clues, or other misinformation that leads the reader in the wrong direction. Sometimes, they even lead the reader to even think they have reached the happy ending only to reveal their devious nature. HOWEVER, you will noticed that subtly is bolded above because please remember the subtly. This is another one of my big problems with YA fiction because some YA writers seem to think that kids are like legitimately stupid. That’s why I don’t think, imo, there’s been a YA book with an absolutely great plot twist in a while because YA writers tend to spoon-fed their readers everything and try too hard to steer readers in the wrong direction. Readers notice when writers do this, and you don’t want it to happen.

BFFR

Be fricken for real, guys, and that means not only ensuring that your plot twist is believable and necessary but also MAKES SENSE. Plot twists making sense is a problem that seems to have popped up in the last five years in all genres not just YA, I would say. Authors seem to focus a lot on the part of the definition of plot twists that says sudden, unexpected and shocking change of direction whilst ignoring the part that includes realistic and reasonable. To me, the realistic and reasonable part is almost more important. If a super unpredictable plot twist pops up out of nowhere without even relating to the story, of course I’m gonna be surprised. Does that mean I’m going to be surprised? No, it does not. Which leads us to the most important lesson: SHOCK VALUE FOR THE SAKE OF SHOCK VALUE IS NOT GOOD. It’s just not. That means not resorting to gimmicks or having a plot twist just to have one. Just like everything else in your story, plot twists should serve to further the story in some way. Not every story needs a plot twist, and some stories are far better off without them!

Phone a Friend!

When in doubt, phone a friend! Writer’s block, phone a friend! Need advice on character development, phone a friend! Struggling with plot twists, phone a friend! In this case, beta readers. Like I said above, stepping into the reader’s shoes is a great way to think of ideas for plot twists, and getting beta readers to read your story is a great way to test out the believability of your plot twist once you’ve written it. Ask them wether or not they thought it was effective within the overall plot, did they believe it, did they see it coming, and overall what about it worked and didn’t work for them. But, don’t ask them about any of this until after they’ve already read the book. You don’t want them to go into the story hunting for a plot twist because they won’t react the same way that an actual prospective reader would. If they immediately come to you, gushing about how amazing the plot twist was and how much they loved it, you know you’re doing something writer. And on the flip side, if they say, wait what plot twist, you know you still have a little work to do!

#writers #writers on tumblr #writing #writing tips #writing tip #writing plot twists #writing resources #writing resource #writing reference #writers of ig #writers of instagram #writersofig #writersofinstagram

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starsandhughes · 1 year

Text

Penalty Box— Quinn Hughes Edition (Part Twenty)

SERIES MASTERLIST

previous: nineteen

next: twenty-one

corresponding trevor post

the non twitter posted trevor and z pics are so low quality and i can fix it and i hate it :)

TUESDAY, APRIL 11TH

yourusername

liked by _quinnhughes, _eliaspettersson, and 8,643 others

yourusername welcome to my postgame penalty box update show: my favorite brother edition! now, you may be wondering: “y/n, girly, my love, sexiest woman alive, why is quinn at two games since his last penalty? where is the kings game post?” well my besties, quintin politely asked me to not post anything for the game against the kings because of their second shutout loss of the season; and since i am the bestest best friend in the universe, i obliged. to compensate, i added him being smiley reading off the starting line up in said game!

back to our regularly scheduled programming! quinn in his 25:42 minutes of ice time (a time that got me money because he had the most ice time out of both teams), he managed to not get a penalty against the ducks! but you know who got their first nhl penalties? misters akito hirose and aidan mcdonough! congratulations boys!

special displeasure shoutout to both camera people in this game, because there was hardly any evidence that quinn existed. but the photographer got many of him and z, so that is what we get!

special REAL shoutout to one of my favorite people alive, petey! congratulations EP40100! i’m choking with pride! i love you! with my whole heart! mwah!

and also to demmer, for getting an assist tonight on kuzy’s goal! that’s wild!

i love you, quintin! can’t wait to cry my eyes out thursday!💙

p.s. suck it, jack <3

tagged _quinnhughes

_quinnhughes i love you, too, sissy💙 we can have a facetime sleepover post the last game

trevorzegras please no

yourusername CAN WE BOTH BUILD BLANKET FORTS SO IT’S LIKE HOW WE DID IT WHEN YOU WENT TO NTDP?!?!?!

trevorzegras please yes

_quinnhughes @/yourusername anything you want

jamie.drysdale FORT! FORT! FORT! FORT!

_eliaspettersson @_quinnhughes are we building a fort?

_quinnhughes @_eliaspettersson what sissy wants, sissy gets in emotional times

jackhughes @/yourusername group facetime sleepover?

lhughes_06 @/yourusername it’ll be just like when we were kids!

yourusername @/jackhughes @/lhughes_06 FAMILY GROUP FACETIME FORT SLEEPOVER WOOOOOO

user1 quinn looks so small next to petey oh my god

colemcward i think you were the real winner of this game, mom!

yourusername i think you’re wrong; you were wonderful out there!

colemcward thanks, mom!

_quinnhughes @/yourusername who are you

yourusername @_quinnhughes a supportive mother to OUR SON

user2 y/n please buy quinn a new suit with your winnings

user3 “p.s. suck it jack <3” y/n is my idol

trevorzegras you don’t post quinn’s 3-0 shutout loss but you post my 6-0??

yourusername you didn’t ask me not to

trevorzegras would you have not if i asked?

yourusername guess we’ll never know

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras she would have posted it

jackhughes @/trevorzegras we all know quinn is special

trevorzegras @/yourusername when does your sappy mode turn back on?

yourusername @/trevorzegras it’s scheduled for thursday

lhughes_06 @_quinnhughes you couldn’t have gotten a penalty for your brothers?

_quinnhughes i don’t like you two all that much

yourusername sucks to suck lukey moosey

lhughes_06 @/yourusername share your winnings, mom!

yourusername @/lhughes_06 your dad got $30 go ask him

jackhughes @/lhughes_06 no

lhughes_06 @/yourusername share your winnings, sissy?

yourusername @/lhughes_06 good try, but no

user6 🧹🧹🧹

_eliaspettersson thank you, y/n! i love you, too! i’ll help huggy build the fort!

yourusername that’s a relief because he is not very good at them

_quinnhughes @/yourusername it was one time

lhughes_06 @_quinnhughes it was a pretty bad fort

jackhughes @_quinnhughes it was nefarious

_quinnhughes @/jackhughes i didn’t even know you knew that word

user5 how in the name of fuck did demmer get an assist😭

edwards.73 i think i did pretty good for my first game bets participation!

yourusername hell yeah you did!!

jackhughes your mom and i are so proud!

edward.73 thanks parents!

lhughes_06 @/edwards.73 kiss ass

edwards.73 @/lhughes_06 i’m running for favorite child

lhughes_06 @/edwards.73 i think the new one has us beat

yourusername @/lhughes_06 the “new one” has a name child number 1! it’s cole!!

edwards.73 @/lhughes_06 i see your point

_eliaspettersson added this to their story

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saltygilmores · 2 months

Text

Dance Marathon Episode (Aka Murder On the Dancefloor)-Part 8. (Still Not Done)

So noble of you to defend her honor moments before you eviscerate her internal organs and splatter them on the football field.

Look, we don't need you speaking on behalf of Womankind, Miss Salty. Shane has done absolutely nothing to hurt Rory. You know what will hurt, though? That axe that's about to slice through Shane's torso.

WE KNOW. We know how much his sitting down has been concerning you. Your anti-sitting-down-position has been well established. A vote for Rory GIlmore means a vote for chair-destroyal. You are the opposite of that Seinfeld episode where George Costanza felt sorry for a security guard who wasn't allowed to sit down on the job and tried to sneak him a chair.

Be more like George, Rory.

Oh Shane. You just made a very fateful decision. Never go with the killer to a second location.

Damn. It turns me on when he talks like that.

Quoth The Butthead, Anymore.

Well well well, if it isn't the consequences of my actions, coming back to...Consequent me.

To her credit, she's tried to break free and impart on her mother and anyone who will listen through a series of coded blinks that she's being held hostage but you and Lorelai keep throwing her back in the ring and thwarting her escape. I love the word thwarting. Thwarting, thwarting, thwarting. Dean: You've been into him since he got into town. I've spent weeks, months actually, trying to convince myself it wasn't true (it's been a year, actually) that everything was fine between us. You're into him and he's into Shane. Who should be listening to this because it's so damn obvious.

Shane: I have no fucking idea who you or that girl in the polka dot dress are.

I love moments of self awareness on Gilmore GIrls. Embrace your idiotness, Dean.

Just thinking about how Dean is this pissed about Rory's behavior but he's still completely unaware (and will never be aware) that she also kissed Jess and cheated on him 😽 But then he cheats on his own wife and then Rory cheats on Logan with Jess and then Rory has an affair with Logan so in the end they all cancel each other out I guess. The only one of our fickle quadrant of bed hoppers who never knowingly cheated on anyone and the only boy Rory never cheated on was Jess. We now return to our regularly scheduled programming.

*Rubs temples* look...ugh. I don't really condone Dean yelling at Rory in public. Maybe they should have "Gotten a room", as Rory is fond of saying after learning that term for the first time 2 weeks ago. But in light of Rory's shenanigans, I kind of understand. Not only that, but taking into the account that this scene signals his merciful and long anticipated stepping down as Rory's Primary Male Life Ruiner and handing that crown to Jess, I am waving my Dean Card. I'll give him this one. Let her have it. Get it out of your system. Things with Jess are going to be so much simpler! Yes indeedy, Rory Gilmore. You are going to be riding the train to Easy Street now! Every day with Jess Mariano promises nothing but rainbows, sunshine, and puppydogs made of cupcakes. Let the shit show commence. But first, a little light homocide.

By the way, I've blanked on Lorelai's whereabouts while all of this is going down. Lorelai when she returns and finds out Dean will no be longer coming around to "Change her water bottle"

One more post coming up for the bloody finale.

#gilmore girls #denise rewatches gilmore girls #gilmore girls season 3 #they shoot gilmores dont they #tsgdt #literati #jess mariano #rory gilmore #shane campbell #shane is swan food #its imminent now #Lorelai is like one of those cartoony villains #I can imagine her going YOU FOOL YOU LET HIM ESCAPE!

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ryuichirou · 25 days

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Replies

And now, back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Anonymous asked:

I’m sorry you went through all that crap. I hope things are better for you. ):

Oh, if you’re talking about the situation from my past, then yeah, it’s much better now! Thank you so much for your concern <3 It is very sweet of you.

However, we do have a more serious situation on our hands right now, but I won’t go into details. This blog is for discussing the colour of Idia’s nipples, not this.

Speaking of which…

Anonymous asked:

I want to lick Idia’s chest. Apologies.

Quickly, Anon, Ortho is holding him just for you to lick! Ahh shoot he ran way…

Anonymous asked:

a lot of people tend to forget we’re asking you about /your/ hcs. and it’s perfectly ok if we disagree! what fun would the internet be without different opinions (the only valid hc is rook’s love language is stalking lol).

anyways who out of the cast do you think would own yaoi manga/doujins? personally i think idia would. maybe. if it’s physical/paper he can hide his naughty stuff from ortho and his mom…

Exactly! A lot of things influence the way people come up with ideas, this is such a complex thing, of course not everything is going to cater to everyone – this is simply impossible. Picking and choosing and reading stuff that interests you while avoiding things that annoy or hurt you is always the way to go.

(Rook’s love language is stalking, fuck yeah lol)

Oh, that’s a fun question. I feel like Idia would be the only one, and he would also probably have this excuse/explanation, like he really isn’t into BL, but this particular work is just very good, it has great art style, good writing + Idia’s favourite artist was influenced by this manga/series of doujins, so of course he had to get it, this is an important otaku artifact! And OF COURSE it’s paper, that’s the whole point! Even if it’s smutty, it’s art!

Ortho could start getting into BL himself; he would start by reading this one manga that Idia owns lol Idia was sure he’d hidden it well.

The rest of the cast strike me as normies… but hey, Lilia could have some! If he has any manga at all, I can imagine him owning a BL book just ‘cause. But since he probably bought it years ago when he was traveling around the TWST equivalent of Japan, it might be a bit outdated lol And probably a little cursed, which is why Lilia got so into this book back then.

Anonymous asked:

I just think it’s cool how you’re so detailed with the characters and their personality/psychology etc. You could even explain how each of them would go skydiving and I’d think, “yeah, they would do that.” Toodles.

Thank you so much, Anon! It truly means a lot. This is one of the most fun parts of writing replies and drawings stuff, to be honest: the cast is so good that the jokes write themselves sometimes lol

If only I knew enough about skydiving to write or draw something about it…but thankfully, we have a lot of other things to do. 💪

Thank you for enjoying our stuff, I am very happy to hear that.

Anonymous asked:

That's just fucking wrong. Jade is EXTREMELY well behaved for a Leech. "ill behaved" my ASS!!!

+Anonymous asked:

TO BE CLEAR IM JOKING JADE IS A FUCKING FREAK MENACE

LOL YOU’RE GOOD ANON, no worries! <3

“For a Leech”!!! Exactly! Which means he isn’t well-behaved at all!

Anonymous asked:

my guy, my friend,, my buddy,,,,

a hetalia mention? in 2024? why would you do this to us? 😭

Anon dear… Hetalia is a party that is never over 🥳🥳🥳 It forced itself into our lives in 2009 and has been there ever since.

In all seriousness, we do come back to it from time to time; some of the drawings that we have for it are pretty recent!

#replies

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may--hawk · 16 days

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clawed dreams all (an always crashing digression)

you guys I am so sorry about this but:

Hell’s annual offices parties have been in the form of a carnival for, oh, millennia. Except it’s Hell, so, you know. This year, the prizes are somebody’s idea of a sick joke, the only kind Hell knows, really. The only prizes available at this year’s carnival are...a host of stuffed angel effigies arranged on the back walls, each of them bearing an unsettling resemblance to one angel or another, all of them unspeakably vulgar. Crowley’s got to win the Aziraphale one, just so he can see the angel’s face when he brings it back.

A completely gratuitous, self-indulgent spinoff of footnote #34 in always crashing (in the same car). For Benjamental, who keeps encouraging my weird head-canon of Hell’s annual office parties.

(I promise, back to our regularly scheduled programming soon)

One of the advantages of the annual Hell parties was that, being Hellish, they were always ahead of the trend. 1 Sometimes too far ahead. For instance, the dance rave in 1346 complete with plague masks and real live plague rats. Crowley’s never been sure, but he thinks Pestilence had let a few plague rats escape the buffet line when Beelzebub’s back was turned, and, well, there you were. There was the sock hop Hell had in 902 BC. 2 Or the MTV themed party in 32. At least the variety was something. Rather unmercifully, somewhere around the 1500s, Satan had developed a mania for carnivals, so the yearly ‘do became a carnival, and did not stop.3 Satan had particularly enjoyed the American mid-2000s carnivals, full of flashing neon lights and nauseating rides and a bevy of fried foods. All the bands played “The Devil Went Down to Georgia,” with new and improved lyrics. Hell’s carnivals had all kinds of things: carousels, 4 freak shows, 5 the holy water dunk tank of Erics. The hall of mirrors was not to be thought of.

All Hell turned out. It was compulsory.

In the mid nineteenth century, Crowley had shown up as bidden. 6 Demons of every shape and size swarmed the midway, clutching ice cream cones that melted down your hands (or claws, or talons, or flippers) as soon as you took them, ganged up to jeer back at the demons running the booths (torture duty, it was considered, manning them). This particular year, though, Satan, tired of winning all of the games, every year,7 had sat the year out. Satan had told them all at the opening ceremonies he wanted to see a little more initiative out of the demons. “It should hurt you if you don’t win,” he’d said, grinning.

Crowley’d skulked around the edges of the carnival, considering and passing up in turn the ring toss (Cerebus was not letting anyone win that one), the shooting galley (the splatter was disgusting) and the duck game (Dagon was a shoe-in; she rose to the surface as Crowley passed, hissing, her teeth full of feathers). Besides, the prizes were, as far as he could tell, the same across every booth. It was somebody’s idea of a sick joke, the only kind Hell knew, really.8 The only prizes available at this year’s carnival were …a host of stuffed angel effigies arranged on the back walls, each of them bearing an unsettling resemblance to one angel or another, and each of them unspeakably vulgar. They’re being handed out by the surly demons behind the counter who took your tickets and a bit of your skin, or scales, or feathers with them.9

Continue reading the rest and footnotes at:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55403731

#good omens #good omens crack #crackfic #hell's office parties #crowley #my fic #good omens fic #aziracrow #ineffable #ineffable husbands

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sillygooseassociation · 1 year

Text

Sweater Lovin'

Request: I have thought of a request for you! Matching "Ugly" Christmas sweaters with Ted -@believemetheodore 💕💕💕 Ps happy holidays!

Description: You and Ted decide that AFC Richmond's holiday ugly sweater party is the perfect time to not only tell the team about your relationship, but tell the world as well.

Warning: mentions of ted's big dick lol

Pairing: Ted Lasso x reader

Word Count: 3.4k words

A/N: i did it! i got another holiday fic out before Christmas was over! Well, technically Christmas is over where I am (it's 1am), but it's not over for all of the world yet, so I'm considering that a win. 4 more holiday fics to go, two for jason and two for ted (one for each containing smut 👀) and then we'll be back to our regularly scheduled program. happy holidays, please enjoy! oh also, all of the sweaters are linked in the fic! i really hope you like all of the sweaters, i worked very hard to find ones i thought were great for each character specifically.

A chill runs through your body as you brought your hand down from knocking on Ted’s door, the Richmond puffer wrapped around your body clearly not doing enough to keep you warm. As you attempted to warm your hands by blowing on them while rubbing them together, Ted opened the door, a bright smile on his face, “Hey there, honey!” The mustached man pulled you into a sweet kiss, his hands resting on your biceps before he pulls away, “Let me put on my sweater and I’ll be ready to go!”

The man skirted away in his collared white button-up, heading back to his room as you walk around the living room, taking in the boxes scattered around the room. Even though Ted wasn’t the one moving, you were joining him in his flat, he was quick to offer to donate some of his things, wanting to make sure there was space for your things, “It was my place first darling, but it wasn’t really home until you came along, so I don’t want it to feel like it’s anymore mine than it is yours”. Your entire apartment resembled his living room, though all of your belongings were packed as opposed to only some of his things. As you looked around the room, coming up with some ideas for which decorations and photos would go where, Ted enters the room, dressed in his sweater, “Ready, sweetheart?”

You turn to him with a sweet smile, nodding as you both journey to the door, Ted taking his puffer off the hook and incidentally matching you. After locking up the flat, you and Ted begin the trip to Nelson Road, your fingertips brushing each other every so often as you walk, both of you having to work hard to not lace your fingers together. “You think they’ll be surprised?” Ted chuckles at your question, not at all annoyed despite you asking this question god knows how many times over the past week. “Well, Beard and Keeley know, so we know there will be no shock there. Roy seems to know everything, and even if he was surprised, it’s not like we’d know.” You giggle at that, Roy is a close friend to both of you and even if you can read him better than when you first met him, the man didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve by any means.

Ted glances at you, a soft smile on his face as you laugh, his pupils practically forming hearts as he looks at you. The two of you crossed the street, switching from the park to a sidewalk bordering the street, Ted subtly switching to your left side, acting as a buffer in between you and the street, before he continues, “Boss signed off on our HR paperwork and Higgins processed it so obviously they know. Now, the boys? I’m not sure. As much as they tease me whenever they catch me lookin’ at you, I don’t know if they actually think I have it in me to win you over.” A boisterous laugh leaves your mouth as you lightly slap Ted’s arm, “You did not do any winning over, you know that.”

He mirrors your laugh, throwing his arm across your shoulders, feeling safe enough to do so with the sunlight subtly disappearing and a barren block of the street, “I’m not sure about that honey, I did manage to convince you to move in with me after only eight months. And we both know how out of my league you are.” You jokingly roll your eyes at his comment, shoving him off of you, your action met with his beautiful laugh, “We both know that no convincing happened, Teddy. I practically begged you to let me move in as soon as possible when you asked me.”

You place your left hand on his forearm to stop him, turning him to face you as you glance around, making sure the coast is clear before looking back at him. “And, I am not out of your league in any way, my love. I mean just look at you,” Ted blushes as you run your fingers through the graying stubble along his jaw. “I’m with the most gorgeous man alive. Not to mention he has a huge fucking di…” “Whoa whoa whoa,” Ted’s face quickly turns red, stepping closer to you and covering your mouth with his hand, “Let’s not do that here, yeah?” Your eyes twinkle at him as you run the tip of your tongue along one of the lines in his palm, a choice that Ted groans at, “Darlin’, we are not skipping this party, so you’re gonna need to stop this before we have a problem downstairs.”

A chuckle comes from your lips as you back away, continuing your journey down the sidewalk, Ted quickly falling in step with you. “Putting all that aside until later tonight, we’re both lucky, okay?” A smile rests on Ted’s face as the two of you arrive at Nelson Road, heading to the back door, “Agree to agree, honey.” Though outside the thick-walled building, you swear that you can hear the loud music and cheers of the team from here. Ted opens the door for you, the break in the fortress’s protection confirming that you were in fact hearing the noise of some of your favorite people.

Rather than entering through locker room doors in the hallway, you and Ted enter his office first, dropping off your puffers before joining the party, seeming to be the last to arrive. The room erupts in cheers when they see the both of you, excited with your presence and seemingly not paying attention to your sweaters, “There you are, the best part of the Greyhounds’ management team! Oh, and the gaffer is here too!” The boys howl in laughter at Isaac’s rib at Ted, the team captain has changed out of his traditional secret Santa uniform and instead now wears a black sweater with the words “Big Gift Energy”.

The two of you laugh at his joke as well, though you know Ted is in agreement with the team’s leader while you are adamant Ted is the best part of the entire beloved team. Sam comes over with two beers, passing one to each of you, a bright smile on his face as he greets you, “Hey, nice sweater there, Sam!” The player thanks his coach, straightening out his sweater that shows an elf and Santa dancing before examining each of your sweaters, most likely preparing to return the compliment. Sam’s smile somehow becomes even brighter, looking up at both of you before tossing you a wink, “I like your sweaters too, nice choice, Coach Lasso.”

You laugh lightly at Sam’s comment as he walks to join his teammates, you imagine spreading the news or sending people in your direction. Ted leans down, his hot breath meeting your ear, sending a chill down your spine, “He’s right you know, I made a great choice.” Before you can respond, Ted is walking around, his voice loud and jolly, apt for the season as he greets the people you both have come to consider family. You hear a gasp that you recognize as Colin’s, turning to see Sam talking to the man dressed in a red sweater with the iconic “Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal” line embroidered across it.

Though before you can respond to his reaction, you are pulled into Keeley’s arms, “Babes, this is great! I’m so glad we found these sweaters, this was the best way for you to tell them!” You chuckle at your best friend, she already knew about your relationship with Ted and yet it seems like she may be the most excited about the news. Pulling away from each other, you take in her outfit, though you helped her find it online, the model-turned-PR manager dressed in knee-high white boots and a short sweater dress with sequin lights across it. Even though Keeley knew about your relationship, you imagine she is this excited since she can now talk about it with Roy, who you now realize is standing with her.

Looking up to greet Roy, possibly the loudest laugh you’ve ever had comes from you, you’re not even quick enough to soften it by covering your mouth. Behind Keeley, Roy stands with a small, proud smirk on his face, dressed in his normal black jeans and a black sweater, though his sweater is covered in pictures of faces, well, one face, specifically, the face of Jamie Tartt. You struggle to hold yourself up as laughter combs through your body, barely noticing when a familiar hand is placed on your lower back, “What’s up with you, darl…” Before Ted can finish his question, he notices Roy’s attire, stifling his own laughter as he raises his eyebrow at the man, “Uh, whatcha got on there, coach?” Roy looks down as though he has no idea why Ted would be asking such a question, looking back up at the now public couple, “The invite said ugly.”

Another roar of laughter racks through your body, Ted practically having to hold you up as he moves his hand to your hip. Your boyfriend, though incredibly entertained by Roy’s take on the party instructions, attempts to lightheartedly reprimand him, “Now Roy, does that seem like the best way to improve your relationship with Jamie?” Before Roy has a chance to give Ted an answer sure to be riddled with expletives, Jamie joins the conversation as he slings his arm around Roy’s shoulder, “Don’t worry coach, he’s just doin’ this cause ‘e’s jealous of mah sexy face.” You snort at Jamie’s response as well as his sweater, a winking Santa face placed in between the phrase, “Ask your mom if I’m real”, Roy growls at the younger man, “You have five seconds to remove your arm from me, Tartt.”

Keeley leads the two bickering men away, smiling at you and mouthing “congratulations” to Ted, to which he mouths “thank you” back, excited beyond words that he was standing here not only with you, but with you. You wipe away your tears, your laughter dying down as Ted moves to stand in front of you, “I swear, that’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.” Ted chuckles, more at you than what Roy is wearing, “Yeah, I can see that, sweetheart.” You look around the room, happy to see everyone having a good time before turning back to Ted, the man offering you a cider as he moves to take your beer. He was fucking perfect. You hadn’t even asked him, you hadn’t even had the chance to make a comment about being handed a drink you didn’t like, yet Ted made sure to grab you your favorite drink to replace the beer.

You smile at the gesture, taking the cider from Ted and giving him your beer, both of you opening the drinks and taking a sip. You just stare at him, in awe of what you have, before his hand comes towards your face, wiping off a drop of cider that gathered on the corner of your mouth. He brings his hand to his mouth, sucking the drop off his digit as you just watch him, “I love you, Teddy.” He smiles brightly at you, “I love you too, hon.” Before you have the chance to make a comment on wanting him to do something else with his thumb later, Rebecca and Higgins join you, Ted moving to stand next to you so that the two can stand across from you. “Well, your shoulders seem much lighter now that this is out in the open,” Rebecca smiles sweetly while Higgins nods in agreement with her comment.

You open her mouth to thank her but stop yourself, distracted by Leslie’s sweater, an option that you and Ted both quirk your eyebrows at. Of course, the two of you recognized the characters, Henry loved playing the game with Ted over FaceTime, then adding you to the mix after meeting virtually. Ted chuckles at Higgins' pink sweater, as he smoothly slips his free hand into the back pocket of your jeans, certainly excited to be able to touch you in public after eight months in secret, “Hey, Leslie, buddy, why are you wearing an Among Us sweater?” A light seems to go off in Higgins’ head, pointing to Ted as his face lights up, “Among Us! That’s what it is! Rebecca asked me and I just couldn’t remember.” He seems pleased with himself before seeing your still confused faces, “Oh, yes, well I told my boys about the party over breakfast a couple of weeks ago and said I couldn’t find a sweater to wear. They said they had it covered and then gave this to me this morning, I have no idea what sus…mas means though.”

Higgins shakes away his confusion as he is called away by one of the players, leaving you, Ted, and Rebecca to laugh at your lovable, but sometimes clueless, friend. “Boss, wow, I…love your sweater,” you snort back a laugh at Ted’s compliment as Rebecca dramatically rolls her eyes, “Oh please, Lasso, please save your American niceties tonight. This was out of my choosing, it is all the fault of Keeley and your girlfriend, her girl-next-door aura is truly just an act.” You jokingly scoff at your friend, “Rebecca, just admit it, you bet that you could beat me at trivia at our girl’s night and you lost, simple as that. It’s not my fault that no one can beat me.”

Ted points at you as he nods, a knowing look on his face, “Yeah, that one I can attest to. No one gets one over on Y/N in pub trivia, Beard and I learned that the hard way.” In the corner of the room, you see Beard relaxing in his chair that he pulled out of the office, his feet propped up on a bench as he reads Little Women, a Christmas classic. Without looking up from his book, Beard shouts in agreement with his best friend, “Beat our asses.” You turn back to Rebecca with an innocent smile and a shrug as she groans, looking down at her red sweater with a wine glass in the middle, encircled by the words “All I want for Christmas is you”, though the word ‘you’ is crossed out and replaced with the word ‘wine’.

Rebecca bitterly mutters under her breath before you all laugh at the situation, your shared friend complimenting your’s and Ted’s sweaters before, ironically, going to refill her glass of white wine. Alone again, you turn your head to look at Ted, incredibly aware of the placement of his hand as he takes a drink of his beer, “You having fun with your hand back there, Coach Lasso?” A small smirk appears on Ted’s face, side-eyeing you before taking a quick swig of his beer, “Just enjoying the perks, my love.” You chuckle at him before looking back at Beard, surprised by his sweater choice, the words “Die Hard is my favorite Christmas movie” printed across his chest. You look at Ted, who is already looking at you, which brings a light blush to your cheeks, “Is Die Hard really Beard’s favorite Christmas movie?” Ted shakes his head, smiling at your question, “No, his favorite is The Holiday, he loves a classic Nancy Meyers. He just wears that sweater to start a debate.”

You chuckle, not at all surprised that Beard would do that, taking a sip of your cider before turning to see Keeley approaching you with a bright smile, “There’s England’s new favorite power couple!” Both of you laugh at her greeting, Ted taking his hand out of your pocket only to move it to your hip, pulling you into his side. You wrap your arm around his waist, cuddling into his side, “Hey Keels, what’s up?” The look in her eyes tells you she’s up to something, though you have no idea what it could be, “The fans love keeping up with the team, you both know this. So I’m posting photos on the team’s Instagram stories of the party and all the sweaters.” You nod along, suspecting that you know where she’s going with this, but you still want her to ask, “Okay, and…?” Keeley rolls her eyes, after two years of friendship, she knows that you’re making her ask just to be annoying, “Would you be okay with me posting you two in your sweaters?”

Even though you and Ted discussed things like this when deciding to tell the team about your relationship, you looked to him for confirmation. The two of you decided to be completely in the open when you told the players, you would be free to walk to work holding hands instead of walking with Beard in between the two of you as a buffer. This didn’t mean you would be doing any interviews any time soon about the romance between Richmond’s gaffer and physical therapist, but you wouldn’t hide your relationship either. Ted gave you a nod with a small smile, a smile you returned before turning back to Keeley, “Of course, Keeley. Just make sure to tag me so I can put it on my story.” Your friend squealed in excitement as Ted squeezes your hip lightly, knowing just how many times you tearfully complained to him that you couldn’t just post about him on social media like “any normal person”, as you would say.

Keeley pulls out her phone as Ted takes your cider can from you, placing them on the bench behind you. Running your fingers through your hair, you turn to Ted as you run your tongue over the front of your teeth just in case of runaway lipstick, “Do I look okay?” Ted smiles softly at you, leaning in to kiss between your eyebrows, “Perfect, as always, baby.” You send him a smile before the two of you turn to Keeley who is already snapping pictures, though she defends herself before you can complain, “Don’t worry, those are just for me! Not social media!”

You jokingly roll your eyes before Ted moves to stand behind you, resting his jaw on the side of your head, making sure to stand far enough to the side that his sweater is still visible. Leaning back in his embrace, you smile brightly at the camera as you place your hands over his. The phone flashes, Keeley sending you both a thanks before running off. Both of you chuckle at her and you then turn in Ted’s arms, wrapping your arms around his neck and playing with the hair on the nape of his neck while he tightens his arms around your waist.

“Have I told you that I love you lately?” You look to the sky and hum as you jokingly think, Ted chuckling lowly at your face, “I don’t know, I think you need to, just to be safe, you know?” Ted nods, leaning close enough for you to share the same air, the end of his mustache hairs tickling your upper lip, “I love you, Y/N.” You smile brightly, scratching at the base of his head with your fingernails, “And I love you, Ted.”

The two of you meet in a kiss, his scruff (that you begged him to make part of his style at least every so often) brushing against your palm as you move to hold his face in between your hands. The various voices of the room become loud cheers of excitement and a couple ‘get a room’s, the both of you pulling away as Ted releases you to swat away at the boys. A vibration from your phone leads to you pulling it out of your pocket, opening up the Instagram notification, and smiling at what you see. You hold your thumb on the screen to pause the story, enjoying your’s and Ted’s first picture as an official-to-the-world couple. The green of his sweater and the red of yours balance well, emphasizing the holiday season and the reason for your party.

You select the button to repost on your story, Ted’s arms snaking around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder. He watches over your shoulder as you add text to the photo, using the red from your sweater to write “Happy Holidays” and the green from his sweater to finish with “from mine to yours”. You rest your head against his as you smile at the photo, Ted’s chest dressed with two honeypots and the words “Oh Honey” in between while your sweater shows two reindeer with the phrase “Oh Deer!” Ted kisses the side of your head as he squeezes his arms just slightly around your waist, “Merry Christmas, honey.” You press post, sharing your love with the world, “Merry Christmas, dear.”

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