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spicy-moths · 6 months

Text

Glow

Murdoch x AFAB!Reader | Words: 3669

My apologies to Pyre. May they rest in penis.

Warnings: knife kink, use of "sir", "daddy", "fawn", "angel", bondage, breeding, risk, unprotected sex, corruption, obsession, implied stalking, nipple play, oral sex, cum bulge, leather kink...

Don't underestimate the warnings.

MINORS DNI

Murdoch stalks the end of the bed, pacing back and forth as you squirm at the head of it. Your handcuffs have been repurposed, not really ever thinking you’d be on the receiving end of them. The headboard is solid, far more than you thought a serial killer would be able to afford. Racks hang on the wall of what you assume to be weapons, although they’re too shrouded in shadow for you to make out what they are in particular. His golden eyes pierce through the darkness, the only feature you can make out in the darkness as he sits in a chair across from the end of the bed.

“Tell me, detective, how much do you know about me?”

You growl through gritted teeth, which gets a chuckle out of him.

“Easy fawn, I’m not going to hurt you, yet.”

The shock from his statement snaps you out of the anger for a moment. The casualness of it all, the only visible part of him being his legs crossed as he reclines back. The vague threat of your impending doom. But you snap back to reality, barking at him like a cornered dog.

“You kidnapped me! You kill innocent people and kidnap the eighteenth to do what? Torture them?? Watch them slowly slip into insanity so you can enjoy killing them?? Does it get you hard or something, fucko!?”

Murdoch simply listens as you yell at him, and you catch a glimpse of him shaking his head, letting out a halfhearted laugh as he gets up, heading over to a table on the side of the room to fiddle with something.

“So that’s what you think I am? A man who kills because he has a hard time getting laid? Quite the opposite, detective…”

As he steps out of the shadows, his sunglasses go over his eyes again, a simple tank top tight against his large muscles. The moon illuminates him in almost a ghostly light, shining off the lenses and giving you a brighter flash of those golden eyes behind the tinted glass. He holds a knife in one hand, with a beer and plastic water bottle in the other.

“Are you thirsty, detective?’ “N-No- what the fuck are you on about, Sabre.”

“Now detective, don’t you think we’ve moved past using formalities like last names… I’m much for using pet names, like “worm” for the stains on existence that I crush beneath me, or “fawn” for the precious thing staring at me from my bed…~”

You hate to admit it. You hate to admit that he flustered you. Your cheeks are hot, eyes going wide as he uses those sweet words, just for you. But you won’t let that distract you, you have to get out of here. With a swift kick, you send the plastic water bottle back towards him, and he clicks his tongue in distaste.

“Seems I’ll be teaching you manners as well, all in due time, I suppose…”

He uses the knife to pop the cap of the beer off, sheathing it back in his thigh holster before sitting back. He takes a long sip as he looks you over again, resting his sunglasses atop his head once his face is concealed in the shadows again.

“Let me tell you what I know about you, little fawn-”

“It’s detective, and you will address me as such.”

He’s surprised at your boldness, his turn to growl this time as he sits his beer down, standing once again as he circles around the back of the chair.

“And I prefer sir but you don’t see me forcing it upon people I have just revealed myself to, do you? Detective-”

The lights turn on and you see large boards of pictures of you, newspaper articles, string, flowers, all a tangle of what looks like a shrine to you. Whatever fight in you leaves your body, a whimper of fear exiting your lips as you cower against the headboard. It seems that your situation was much more dire than you initially thought.

“I’ve done quite a lot of research on you, detective. I’ve taken your coffee order, what your usual is at your favorite restaurant, who your friends are, what model of car you drive. I know you, detective. I’ve spent so long waiting for you…~”

He spits out your title onto the ground, squashing it underfoot like the “worms” he spoke about earlier. With a strike of a match, he begins to light candles around the room, revealing gifts, or what you assume to be gifts, on shelves and walls. The racks of what you presumed to be weapons turn out to be intricate displays of flowers, all of your favorites.

“You know what they say, detective. If a man wants to, he will…”

His footsteps are sure as he stalks up to the end of the bed, placing his hands near your feet as he leans down, eyes piercing yours as they’re revealed over the tilt of his sunglasses.

“And I would certainly say I’ve gone above and beyond for you, haven’t I? Little fawn?”

He moves closer, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you, holding your chin as he forces you to look at him.

“Every vermin who dared try to look at you, to touch you, cause any problem. I got rid of them! All for my fawn. I just wish her to be happy, happy and safe with me…”

Your mind flashes to every time you have gotten close to catching a suspect, about to make an arrest, how they suddenly went missing or ended up dead. You shake your head at him, trying to free your chin from his grasp.

“Shhh, little fawn. You’re safe, with me. I’ll do anything for you, my love. I know everything about you. All I want is your love in return.”

“I- can’t- won’t- love a- killer- like you-”

“Oh, but you will. I’m perfect for you, don’t you see? I’ve gotten you everything you love, and will get you anything you’ll ever want. I only want you now.”

You choke on the air, tears coming to your eyes as you begin to struggle more again. He frowns, unhooking your cuffs from the bed as he brings you into his arms. You kick, scream, plead, anything to free yourself as he just, holds you. No forceful grip, just slowly moving around, trying to soothe you as you let out your desperate attempt for escape. When you finally tire, he brings one of his gloved hands to rest your head against his shoulder, letting you sob into his skin.

“Shhhhh… it’ll all be okay soon. I promise, my dear…”

“Wh- why me- why did it have to be me-??”

He stays silent as you sob out, not even bothering to fight against him now. A soothing hand rubbing over your back, moving down your arms to try and provide some relief against the strain of the cuffs. But he won’t let you go. Not yet.

“Because you are the only one who looked at the evidence, my love. The only one smart enough out of that prison of lustful pigs to actually get close enough to catching me. I have to say, you look particularly cute with a gun pointed at my chest~”

He chuckles as that seems to snap you enough out of your sobs, flustered again as he continues to catch you off guard. A wave of disgust as you found comfort in the arms of a killer, arms that held you with a gentleness that you crave inside… but we can’t let that happen! Weakness is how you die, and you refuse to die. Not now.

You squirm suddenly, being the one to catch him off guard this time. A brief fall onto the bed is all the freedom you get before he cages you in, pinning you down.

“I don’t think you understand, little fawn, you will love me, in the same way I’ve loved you.”

A swift kick to his gut sends him barrelling backwards, and you’re able to get up on your feet for the first time in what feels like hours. You break for the door, trying to free yourself from the cuffs as you run. Fumbling with the door latch, you turn around to see him getting up, stalking you now with no protection over his eyes, his knife glowing gold as it unholsters itself, floating up to his hand as he prepares to dash after you. You throw your body weight against the door, it opens finally as you just run, not knowing where you’re going. A few twists and turns in the dark, and you see the front door.

“Little fawn, I was hoping we’d wait until later to go hunting. But if you want me to be the big bad wolf, so be it.”

A snarl echoes through the house as you exit into the cold air, running for the trees, grateful that your shoes are still on. Sprinting as far as your legs can carry you, the crunch of the leaves behind you making him feel like he’s always a step behind you. Glimpses of gold dart across your vision, nearly making you trip as they’re clear distractions. Right?

“Couldn’t let me see my angel become truly my own? Let me protect my little fawn? No. They’ve made you afraid, made you fear me…”

Something whizzes past your face, a glowing knife embedding itself into the tree to your left as you keep running. Your legs burn, struggling to keep yourself afloat. But those thoughts inside your head tell you to turn back. That you’re safe with him, he’ll hug all the anxieties away. You won’t have to catch another killer, everything will be okay-

Your thoughts stop as you trip over a root, thinking you’re gonna land face-first in the mud and leaves, but find yourself floating as well. He grabs the cuffs, yanking you back into his arms. Knives circle you both in the air, poised outwards, protecting you.

“Don’t run from me, I couldn’t hurt you. Not you. Please-”

You hesitate for a moment, before letting yourself sink back into his arms. A human, not the monster that you had created him to be in your head. You were tired, wanting rest. He holds you until he’s sure you’re not gonna fight him, before carrying you back to the house, knives still hanging in the air as they protect the two of you from whatever else may lurk in the woods.

“Murdoch, please, promise me one thing…”

“Anything, anything, I promise-”

“No more killing innocents. Protect the people. For me. Please.”

He pauses as he sets you down in the chair, sitting across from you on the edge of the bed. The glow of his eyes fades as he brushes the hair out of his face, long strands falling back to frame his jaw.

“Anything for you. I promise.”

A click of the handcuffs and they float away, your wrists freed, giving you true freedom. You consider running again, but-

“Please. Detective. Stay.”

Slowly, you stand, slotting yourself against his chest as you wrap your arms around his chest, not even able to link your fingers together with how broad he is. Scar and tattoo covered arms wrap around you, pulling you into place.

“I’m here.” “My little fawn…~”

Murdoch tilts your chin up, looking into his eyes, a soft honey with the hunger of a bear just behind the surface, tracing around your form.

“You’re perfect, perfectly mine.”

His hand caresses your cheek as his other grips your waist just a little bit tighter. Gaze lingering at your lips, before meeting your eye again.

“May I~?”

You nod, hesitantly. He pulls you even closer, connecting your lips with a sense of starvation, arm hooking fully around your waist to press you against his body. Squirming in surprise, you pull several growls and groans from him. “Careful.”

Against your stomach, you feel him filling out his slacks, and it’s bigger than you thought it would be. But you don’t want to stop, you want to see where this goes. How much he will do for you…

You grind your leg against his hardening dick, and he growls in your ear, snapping his jaws and nearly catching your ear with his sharpened teeth.

“Looking for something?”

“What is it that you get after a successful hunt? A hunting prize~?”

“Angel love of mine-”

In an instant, you’re spun around and pinned to the bed, a ferality returning to the glint in his eye. You squeak, which earns a grin from him. He mouths down your throat, gently biting as he pulls more of those desperate little sounds from you, holding your wrists easily in his hands.

“Tell me to stop.”

“No, keep going Murdoch. Please~”

“Fuck, fawn~”

Your hands are pinned above your head with one hand as he uses the other to cut off your clothes, sending the knife back away before tearing the remaining fabric away. He moans, looking over your body and how you squirm underneath him. A gloved hand parts your legs, and you swear he almost drools at the sight.

“All that, for me~?”

His fingers glide through your folds, inspecting how wet you make the leather after the shock of cold causes your body to buck up into his hand. He looks you back in the eye, lewdly licking it off his fingers.

“Angel mine, let me ruin you. Let me show you what I need from you.”

“You won’t-”

You don’t even get the remark out before his tongue is gliding through your cunt, gathering up your slickness and moving up to suck at your clit. Your hands strain against his, hips bucking up into his mouth. He throws one of your legs over his shoulder as the other is pinned against the bed with his body, arm around your thigh to hold you in place. His tongue dips inside you, briefly pumping in and out as you feel flicks of cold, your mind fogging as you haven’t experienced something like this before. Nothing so intense, so intent on making you cum.

He sucks at your clit again before bringing his head up, mouth covered in your wetness as he grins, kissing the inside of your thigh that rests next to his head.

“Won’t I~?”

His tongue wipes his lips and your catch a glimpse of a tongue piercing, said piercing being pushed against that bundle of nerves, him not letting up now. He lets go of your hands, which fly into his hair as you try and get him to lessen, not realizing where that hand is going until he presses two gloved fingers into you, sending you into a white hot haze as your body violently cums around them.

When you come to, you’re laying back, warming his fingers as he looms over you. His face still glistens from eating you out, but a wet stain now decorates the front of his tank top.

“H-Holy shhhhit-”

“Never squirted before, fawn? Get used to it~”

His fingers start up again, thumb grinding against your already abused clit as he now takes one of your nipples into his mouth, giving the other attention as well, just to get you moaning and squirming as his fingers work you open.

“Poor little thing, daddy’s making you feel so good and you just don’t know how to react, isn’t that right~?”

“Y-Yes s-s-sir-”

“Good girl.”

His mouth resumes his attention to your chest, swapping between each nipple to give them equal attention, teasing his tongue piercing against the sensitive nubs. Your hands fly everywhere, unable to process what he’s truly giving you. You rock your hips down as he adds a third finger, getting you just a little bit wider.

“You can do it, I know you can. Don’t worry, daddy will take his prize.”

Murdoch stands tall as he pulls a condom out of his pocket, moving to shuck down his pants just enough while his thumb and fingers are pressed to hit all the spots that make you see stars.

“No- please- we- don’t need it-”

His eyes flash again as the condom is discarded to the floor, looking your form over once again.

“You do know that it won’t be safe…”

“Don’t care- just- please daddy~”

A switch turns on in his brain and his hand leaves you, fully stripping as quickly as he can before tossing you higher on the bed. His lips meet yours as he moves your hips around his, hiding you on the bed with his form. Slowly, inch by inch, he presses into you. When you feel his tip touch the deepest part of you, you nearly scream a desperate sound, struggling to not move as he just won’t.

“I’m sorry, angel. I just needed to make sure I didn’t forget how you felt the first time I got the pleasure to fuck you.”

You attempt to respond before he snaps his hips back, ridges and veins brushing against your walls as you’re reminded once again at how full you feel. A glance down and you see him moving inside you, how big and thick he is. But then he’s stronger, pushing into you with more need, more ferocity. He growls when you squeeze around him, making him slow his pace but it feels like heaven as he shifts his hips, making you see stars with a scream of his name.

You clench down hard around him, squirting again as there’s no room for anything else inside you. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you flush against him. He moans deeply, leaning down to nip at your neck again when you come down from your high.

“It doesn’t take much from daddy, does it? Little girl just needs to take what daddy gives her and she’ll feel so good. Sweet angel mine~”

Despite not wanting to hurt you, it takes incredible strength from him to start pumping into you again, briefly moving your hips for you and fucking himself with your cunt before you lessen enough for him to rock into you more naturally. Kisses and hickeys litter your chest and neck, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. You feel him get faster as your head is swimming, having already hit two of the hardest climaxes you’ve gotten in your life, but he still hasn’t cum yet. And you want him to.

Gods, just the idea of you getting filled up by him is exciting, and you don’t realize you’re babbling out pleads for him to fill you up until he growls into your ear again.

“Yeah? Little fawn wants her big bad wolf to fill her up? Begging daddy to give her what she needs?”

“Pl-ease da-addy- I ne- nghh~ -eed it-”

“Fuck, you need daddy to breed you, little fawn~?”

“PLEASE-”

Never in your life have you let out a beg so desperate, but the fuzziness in your mind has cast out all kinds of judgement. He’s so much, you want it all. At your pleads and begs, he speeds up, rougher, before pushing your thighs up, folding you in half.

Murdoch pulls out briefly to adjust you, cock dripping with pre-cum and your juices, before pushing back in with a new vigor. Your lips are devoured quickly, swallowing up your noises and any remaining attempts at begs before he pushes his tongue into your mouth, making you nearly choke. But you manage to suck on it eagerly, too fucked out to realize it’s longer than it should be.

“Alright fawn, cum for me. Cum for daddy.”

His fingers make very quick work of your clit, enough to push you over that edge of pain, pleasure, and overstimulation. You squeeze and clench hard, but he keeps pumping into you. With a groan, you feel him start to spill into you, making you giddy as the warmth spreads through you. You swear that you were dragging him in, but there was no need as he kept going, fucking it in deeper than you thought it could go.

He finally stills after a few minutes, unable to fit more into you. Murdoch pulls out, getting the last remaining amount jacked off onto your chest, to which he gladly cleans up with his tongue. Your face flushes, especially when he kisses off a bit that got on your face, with you licking your lips before he can get the droplets there.

“Oh naughty little girl, does daddy taste good?”

“Mmmmmhmmmm…”

“Good girl, you can get more of a taste if you wanna thank your daddy.”

He releases your legs, and they slink back down to the bed. You blink, processing his face before looking down, seeing a clear bulge on your abdomen, and a mess of cum across your thighs. Then you look up a bit more, and see there’s plenty of it still on his cock. And you want it.

You crawl onto your front, settling between his legs as you lick his cock clean, taking the tip into his mouth as you suck anything remaining out. A glob falls onto your tongue as you look up at him with big doe eyes, and if you hadn’t just sucked him dry, he could’ve cum again.

“I’m fucking that mouth at some point, fucking hell…”

He pulls you off and into his lap, pushing his cum back in with his fingers. A knife then flies into his hand, biting the blade and snapping it from the handle, The blade is spat onto the floor as he holds the handle, warming it.

“Gotta keep my little fawn well bred, I’ll get you a proper toy next time. Promise.”

He pushes in the handle of the knife inside you, the hilt keeping it from going any further. You let out a gasp, before sighing in satisfaction.

“Lovely angel of mine, my little fawn…”

“Yours.”

#chaosspicywrites #meat sword stabber

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love-wiiidow · 2 months

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grace | she/her | cancer | black

american - british - brazilian

buffalo, ny | bristol, england | recife, brazil

bilingual - portuguese and english

main posts : f1, american football, soccer, hockey, celebs

manchester united | ferrari | new jersey devils, buffalo sabres | 49ers, bills

fav athletes : brock purdy, charles leclerc, alex albon, jack hughes, josh allen, stefon diggs, martin ødegaard, mason mount

fav celebs : josh hutcherson, ryan gosling, milo manheim, tom holland, ayo edebiri, gisele bündchen, adriana lima, chico lachowksi

music : taylor swift, lana del rey, blur, oasis, pavement, gorillaz, cigarettes after sex, frank ocean, drake, sza, lily allen

masterlist

who i’ll write for : charles leclerc, carlos sainz, alex albon, joe burrow, brock purdy, all hughes brothers, all of my fav celebs, all of my fav athletes, nick bosa, christian mccaffery, marcus rashford, all marvel characters

PLEASE SEND IN REQUESTS I AM THIRSTY FOR SOMETHING TO WRITE AND MY CREATIVE JUICES FOR MY CURRENT FICS ARE DRAINED

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thewriterkb · 1 year

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CLICK TO READ ON MEDIUM

“My grandmother has lived there her whole life,” Martín said, his eyes finding mine in the rear-view mirror. “And even she leaves Granada in August.”

The sharp edges of the Sierra Nevada slowly lifted itself from the surface of the Earth, welcoming our approach into the city.

“I’ve lived in hot. I can do hot. I’m sure everything will be fine,” I responded.

The eyes in the mirror wrinkled, and my companion gave me an acquiescent little smile before returning his gaze to the road. Martín had offered me a ride down south after he had found me slumped on a kerbside near the Parada de Autobús in Getafe. I had missed my bus to Granada, so I supposed he could be forgiven for feeling a little sceptical.

He was travelling to Granada to pick up some of his grandmother’s belongings, he had said, before him and his family took to the south coast of Spain. He went there every August for its cool ocean breezes, affordable accommodation, and — at least for Martín — the entertainment of seeing scores of tourists pink like lobsters and staggering around on the streets. They were always “borracho y quemado” he told me gleefully when I asked him what his plans were for summer. Drunk and burned.

When we arrived at my accommodation we said our goodbyes, but not before a final warning from Martín. He slapped me on the shoulder and reminded me that August was for “sitting and drinking, not walking and seeing”, before throwing me a bottle of water he bought from a shop nearby. But after checking in, I set out immediately. I had come to Granada with a specific goal in mind, and I was eager to go out and meet it.

The Alhambra was the fortified jewel of the Nasrid empire. The Iberian Peninsula had been under Islamic rule for seven-hundred years and the influence of that time dominated the city, overwhelming the usual Gothic architecture of Spain. Nowhere in Granada was this Middle Eastern presence felt more than beyond the walls of the Alhambra.

The fortress sits atop a hill overlooking the span of the city and stares eye to eye with the Sierra Nevada nearby. Me, alongside thousands of others just like me, laid our assault on the palace walls. No doubt reminiscent of the oncoming hordes that had done the same in centuries gone by.

Once inside, the Alhambra welcomed us graciously. Luminous wisteria rippled in the breeze and a mist rose from the water features that wound their way through the grounds, kissing at my skin and providing a respite from the sun outside the palace. I found a shady alcove to slump myself into, and I wondered if this was the last sight an invader would have seen. Exhausted and thirsty, lulled into tranquillity by the neat garden, soothed by the trickling water of the streams. Their laxity paid back in full with a sabre in the spine, victims of the Alhambra’s charm.

The stone cornices that made up the alcove were etched with verses of Arabic and my eyes followed the elegant lines, licks of calligraphy twisting and winding their way into my mind. I was drawn to a piece that graced the archway in front of me, and the plaque nearby translated its intentions.

There is no Victor but God, it read.

My heart thudded in my chest. A medieval fear coursed its way through the centuries.

There is no Victor but God, I read again.

Something ancient had burrowed its way into my viscera. How many like me had died in this alcove? Poisoned by the enhancements that laced the foundations of the Alhambra.

The heat and thirst were making me delirious. I greedily finished the last of Martín’s bottle of water and stood to my feet with a last ounce of energy. As I moved, the metal armour shifted heavily on my torso and the weapon at my side clanged in protest. I thought of the others that had failed, hypnotised by Moorish spells. But not me. I was a Castilian soldier. This was my last assault on the palace. I marched forward, staggering and uneasy on my feet, with cowardly Nasrid foot soldiers gawking and wailing from every direction. I mounted the steps that approached the palace entrance and looked up at the arched doorway. It was interwoven with mosaics and jewels which shone in the sunlight, hinting at the MiddleEastern riches that lay just ahead. I shoved open the ornate doors, slamming them against the stone frame. Unstoppable.

My eyes darted around the room, finding walls lined with stacks of jewels and gold. Spices from every corner of the Islamic empire singed at my nostrils, and I bounded into the room hungrily. I turned to lunge at a pile of gold in the corner, but felt nothing but the thud of my head on the dense stone wall. A pile of blood red rubies stacked as high as the Sierra Nevada called to me from the other side of the chamber and I staggered over, unbalanced feet slapping at the tiles below. I clawed at the rubies, begging to satisfy my desire, but claiming only fistfuls of air in the process. I looked around wildly. The bounty that I so painfully sought after was slowly fading away.

I was growling in frustration when my vision began to blur. My body went limp and I hit the floor with a dull thud. A fog of unrecognisable figures swarmed all around me and shouts of agua could be heard.

In my fading vision I saw a man sitting in the Islamic throne that graced the centre of the room. The glint of a familiar pair of eyes glared at me from above his fixed smile. Smugness. It seemed there was nothing in the world funnier than this. Yet another foreigner, yet another failure.

The face of Martín broke into a roar of laughter, his face contorted. “Always borracho y quedmado,” he said, cackling.

#granada #spain #medium #short story #fiction #writing #books #novels #reading

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labbaik-ya-hussain-as · 2 years

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How many have actually understood the message of Karbala? Plz wisdom n help me n others .. n ....

Is Matam n Gathering only what being a Shia is all about ??? Is it all about posting Marsiyas and Matam videos with pride ???

Few pointers, to remind/refresh:-

1. Karbala is all about *Sabr!* If you do not have Sabr in your life n personality you are lacking something important which Imam Husain ( A.S ) taught.

2. Karbala is all about *Jigar!* Have the guts to speak up for what is right. Even if it means speaking against your brother who is mistreating his wife. Or speaking against any injustice/wrong-doing.

3. Karbala is all about *Kindness!* The enemy forces which were thirsty were given water (and so were their horses) by Imam Husain ( A.S ) who knew he would be killed by those very people.

4. Karbala is all about *Loyalty*! 71 companions were killed in battle against a standing army of thousands. Even when faced with certain death these brave men didn't leave the side of Imaam Husain ( A.S).

5. Karbala is all about *Equality!* John, a dark skinned African Christian who earlier was a slave, was treated as his brother by our beloved Imam.

6. Karbala is all about *Magnanimity!* Hurr , the enemy commander who was responsible for stopping n cutting the water supply of Husain's camp, but later had a change of heart on the night before Ashura, was welcomed by Husain ( A.S) with utmost respect and love.

Azadaari is a mission to spread the message of Husain.

It is not limited to just crying aand doing maatam.

Its You N Azadaari That is Making The world Stand up n ask, *#WhoisHussain(A.S)???*

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libidomechanica · 6 months

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Untitled (“Undo it”)

A limerick sequence

Take day, fair debt of relieves in our Castalian the mowers wide domain, the sheet and pale bosoms on oath to single virtue is strange quintessence. Undo it.

To relieve: where that she ances all. Into the more—with vigour; thus much; a bedde of than my Muse! Thou not I haue most smiled demeanour, they were vngratefulnesse?

Are can kill. If men; for a rarity: but as wherefore thine in earth: her the chose pleasaunce of ancient after night moony, in whose eyes are ridiculous.

Of life in the presence embitter, urge they wilderneath, wider the ungracious and aye it so; there are kind of care. They were me, Sleepe did invinces alone.

Of guilt—of gentle fell to burst for wrinkles of woe, no reason. Thus Heaven with you move, varied halls in love? He look a tree break my soul’s diseases of it.

I once on train in us, if she doing time them in her must singing I wanting each salted on; all be under the blissful children stated it deny?

She norther sweeps the crew, which circle wears; even more never feelings, or our slenderness; but if with make some shortened and so tame. Or veer of skin. Too rare, knows!

Who will ring is yclad in them withal, as when Aurora leap up with thy might hang the vault if theefe! I knew t was thou intender eyes and Melissa—you!

Thought I am not to reader other of all that I love as somewhere which made of the mouths purcharged with no light. Kiss now thou dost that when ’t had too much.

Young in whom Fame did me out, and arm, which, withdrew his is years may string best partan Mother words of the entice. They name, what statuary it charm or her e’re.

Flung by the endeth! High overlaid with vagabonding took its splendid singing liveliest bed, birdie, said thy AEgis o’er they ken next Heaven beast wake day!

So sweet in fragile my state cold, some doth usings the wisely content view, that is could chain’d! Moment gulf between each spot the long, must at he thriftie bitter power?

And wade me thirsty play the very flower to despair so mind; ascribing! Used, and not a smile on your sight flash’d to her spite, perfect his pacem oh my eyes?

Whose can see you until the children of the Cyclades. Ridiculous pilgrims of Fame did marshall wrapped the time accurst; and snakes to leaue: his sweet look like vomit.

—How that for need more lies worthine in they lock with vacant louers; see here I don’t dancers; arts little praise is direction tonight. Lovely, darkening back to erase?

Dear is sting of ants. She she showeth; for to quence, I must singled to a man who counselled and the sing on these: no waves nobly, methods t was soothing eye?

Has so tame, and behind t’ a because not liv’d lose the bed. Forbidding his society to happy state, is lady faire out the to tears back to your word?

My faut is poore my Grands full lips Loues doth black proofs, save that the more? To thy shadow-like a garth, two in deeds might to light but with Juan answering from autumn sky.

And if I have change sense; a heart, I can be the lioness, and the wood, where and who bade more. The river, die. What weld the cloth’d in them any woods, years do the last.

Ah, vain for on the honey but the world of love. Falling and when Pegasus seem which his shirt off, with profit too deeply, by a sudden a heauye heau’nly hye?

And all still bleede; but a wild Yuie twilight? I call might my houses dwell vines to defeated too you. Where once I chase they follow some and me by one, and kisses.

Wonders pall upon the cuckoo; cuckoo; cuckoo! Would more and always, with our myself might heart sabre gashes his like a boon shadow’s form former friendly Few.

This island shall form’d full be beauty from the village-cotted: for young, but she stanzas babes dost thou was one. Course to Heaven whom I would his man, such endeavour.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #168 texts #limerick sequence

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pooma-islam · 7 months

Text

Ya Rasulullah - Assalamualaikum

▪️

You are the greatest intercessor ﷺ

You are obeyed with pleasure ﷺ.

You are a kind Nabi ﷺ

You are the possessor of beauty ﷺ

You are elegant in body ﷺ.

You are the one that is cheerful with a smiling countenance ﷺ

You are handsome ﷺ

You are the intercessor of all creation ﷺ

Your position is such that all are obedient to you ﷺ You are The kind of the kind ones ﷺ

You are the Nabi of the creation ﷺ

Your body is soft ﷺ

You are the Messenger of Allah ﷺ

Your eyes are with surmah (kohl) ﷺ

Your face is radiant ﷺ

You are extremely handsome ﷺ

You have the most beautiful fragrance emanating from your blessed body ﷺ

You have the most beautiful broad forehead, it is like the full moon ﷺ

When you smile your beautiful teeth look like, very precious pearls ﷺ

You are the means of cure for the sick ﷺ

You are the quencher of thirst of the thirsty ﷺ

You are with cheerful countenance ﷺ

And fragrance emanates from your blessed face ﷺ

You are Allah’s Messenger ﷺ

You are very sociable (friendly) ﷺ

You are a great helper ﷺ

You are very learned ﷺ

You are Allah’s trust ﷺ

You are a personality of great status ﷺ

You are beloved ﷺ

You are the possessor of high rank ﷺ

You are very true ﷺ

You differentiate between truth and falsehood You are extremely eloquent ﷺ

You are the well wisher of creation ﷺ

You are the One who recognizes and makes sabr ﷺ You Are extremely compassionate by nature ﷺ You are extremely kind ﷺ

You are the one to show kindness to the creation ﷺ You are the one who treats with extreme kindness ﷺ

You are the one with exemplary character ﷺ.

You are the one with a smiling countenance ﷺ

You are the one that overlooks faults ﷺ

You are the one who is considerate of others ﷺ . You are the forgiver ﷺ

You are tolerant ﷺ

You accept the request of others ﷺ

You repent and turn to Allah Ta’ala ﷺ

You are the one who has taken responsibility of the ummah ﷺ

You are noble by nature ﷺ

You are honoured in family status ﷺ

You are high in status and of noble birth ﷺ

You have always been full of Noor (head to toe) ﷺ

You are the giver of glad tidings ﷺ

You are the warner ﷺ

You are a bright lantern ﷺ

You are the one with full information ﷺ

You are the one with the light of foresight ﷺ

You are the one with deep knowledge ﷺ

You are the guide ﷺ

You are the guide to the straight path ﷺ

You are Allah’s best servant ﷺ

You are the comforter for the destitute and redresser of grievances for the poor ﷺ

You are the one of taqwa (piety) ﷺ

You are the lover of cleanliness ﷺ

You are the chosen one ﷺ

You are the one that fulfills the rights of others completely ﷺ

You are a person of high position /dignity ﷺ

Your position is high ﷺ

You are a revealer of truth ﷺ

You are of wisdom ﷺ

You are the guide ﷺ

You are the leader ﷺ

You are chosen one of the chosen ﷺ

You are extremely patient ﷺ

You are very grateful ﷺ

You are the final Nabi forever ﷺ

You are Muzammil (wrapped in a shawl) ﷺ

You are Muddatthir (the one in garments) ﷺ

You are the fortunate one ﷺ

You are the righteous ﷺ

You are the friend ﷺ

You are the one Allah speaks to ﷺ

You are the chaste (pure) ﷺ

You are the dedicated to Allah alone ﷺ

You are the beloved ﷺ

You are the lecturer of the Ambiya ﷺ

You are the one worth being followed as an example ﷺ

You are the steadfast one ﷺ

You are the Nabi of all the Anbiyaa and Rasuls ﷺ You are Taa-haa, and Yaaseen and benefactor of all ﷺ

You are the Nabi for all creation ﷺ

You are the leader of the Ambiya ﷺ

You are the One who had personal communication with Allah ﷺ

You are great and of lofty status ﷺ

You are the Imaam of guidance ﷺ

You are the mercy of the entire universe ﷺ

You are the succour of the creation ﷺ You are the helper of the oppressed ﷺ

You are unique ﷺ

You are unparalleled in the universe ﷺ

You are the embodiment of piety ﷺ

You are deserving off praise ﷺ

You are the best of all creation ﷺ

You are filled with the grace and honour from Allah ﷺ

His Rabb took him by night on a journey to the heaven ﷺ

You were like the light that flashed in the pitch dark night ﷺ

And He (Allah) bestowed him ﷺ from above, and transmitted to him revelation that was well guarded ﷺ

You are of such a high status ﷺ

You have a heart alluring position ﷺ

You have a very high status ﷺ

O my Rabb send Salaat and Salaam upon him As long as fragrants emit their fragrance And the morning breeze blows ﷺ

Give me aafiya (safety) and pardon my sins O Allah through the medium of Nabi Kareem ﷺ

ﷺﷺﷺﷺﷺﷺﷺﷺﷺ

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you10tubesworld · 1 year

Video

youtube

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hugheshugs · 2 years

Note

yuppp it's me again ! (you can leave this one to next saturday) so, i was thinking about an imagine based on this vid https://youtu.be/rui3P6j4gC0 with ethan or owen where he and the reader are kinda academic rivals but their sexual tension is turning overwhelming. one day they're at a post umich win party and they're stealing glances from across the room and then this song starts and it's all ✨too much✨ for them

NSFW !!

hihi !! i decided to use this one for thirsty thots, also, i chose owen for this cuz i feel like i havent written for him in a while. here is a link to the song for those who wanna listen. this one was way longer than i'd intended but i hope you like it <3

you knew it was going to happen. for far too long now, you and owen had been pushing away your rivalry and delving into a feeling the two of you once prayed would never arise. at first, you hated him. you hated the way he always did better than you in school and rubbed it in your face, so you started doing the same. it spiralled from there and through it all, you found yourselves yearning for each other.

there was a party at someone's house after a tough home game win. you didn't know whose house it was but that wasn't important, the only thing on your mind was seeing the boy who scored the game winning goal — owen.

you weren't going to make a move, he was just nice eye candy. however, if he made one on you, you wouldn't decline. as you and your friend, mabel, walked into the raging party, there was no sign of him. the two of you decided to get a couple drinks before making your way into the living room, and that was when you saw him. he stood tall amongst his friends and his eyes met yours.

you immediately looked away and took a seat on the couch beside mabel as she conversed with someone.

as the night went on, he could feel your eyes on him every couple of minutes. to be fair, he was doing the same. you looked gorgeous and he couldn't tear his gaze away from you.

"bro!" kent snapped his finger.

owen's head snapped toward him. "huh— what? sorry.."

"dude, you've been staring at her all night. just make a move," luke encouraged.

everyone noticed how distracted owen had been since you got there and they were going to do everything to convince him you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

"no, i can't," he shook his head. "we hate each other."

"no, you don't. it's just school shit, she's been warming up to you a lot recently," kent denied.

"plus, she's been staring at you all night. c'mon man, just go for it. what's the worst that can happen—"

"she'll reject me," owen cut thomas off.

"okay, and? that's it, look, she's literally staring you right now," thomas fought back, grabbing him by the shoulders and turning him to face you. "you see that look? look at her eyes and tell me she doesn't want you."

he couldn't. because the way you were unconsciously biting your lip and shifting in your seat while innocently staring into his eyes only meant one thing. his heart was racing and he could feel a familiar heat rising through his body. he needed you.

"go for it, big dog."

he stumbled as thomas pushed him forward and your eyes widened when you realized he was walking toward you. his hand grabbed your arm before pulling you up and dragging you into an empty room.

you were lightly pushed onto the bed, both of you silent as your hearts pounded in your chests.

your stomach dropped as he leant down and tipped your chin up with his fingers, forcing you to look at him.

"what the fuck was that?"

his hand travelled down to your neck, holding it in his grasp as you struggled to come up with a response.

"i-i don't know what you're talking about—"

his fingers clenched and you let out a small moan. he smirked. "i think you know exactly what i'm talking about."

you stayed quiet, a bit embarrassed by how turned on you were.

"tell me you want this as much as i do," he whispered.

"i do," you nodded, needily. "i want you, owen."

"yeah? you want me to take you right here?"

"yes."

his belt was the first to come off. he bit his lip as you stared intently, watching as it fell to the floor. his shirt was next, then his jeans, and soon you were naked on the bed as his body hovered above yours.

"so fucking wet," he mumbled.

you whined as he ran his dick between your folds. his tip was raging red, finally feeling a bit of comfort as he slowly slid into you.

your back arched. "o-owen.. you're so big."

he pressed his lips to yours as he adjusted himself inside you. "you can take it. i know you can."

you felt him everywhere, and it gave you more butterflies than you could possibly have imagined. his skin on yours, his lips on yours — his cock inside you. it was an overwhelming response to your long overdue feelings.

"you— you can move now," you spoke against his lips.

he nodded, beginning to pick up the pace.

"faster."

"are you sure—"

"yes, yes, owen. please."

god, the sound of your moans and what they did to him. he thrusted faster, and harder when you asked for it. he burried his head in your neck as he began breathing heavily, your pussy feeling even better than he'd thought while touching himself in his dorm.

you tugged on his hair and let out a loud moan, the sound of him rapidly slamming into you nearly drowning it out.

"i'm gonna cum," you whispered shakily.

"me too," he nearly whined, forehead glistening with sweat.

both of you got louder, the feeling in your stomachs becoming too much to handle as you let go at the same time.

"ah, fuck! owen!"

"holy shit— shit, shit. oh, yes, y/n."

he slumped onto you, your hand resting in his hair as you recovered from your highs. the room smelled like sweat and sex but neither of you cared. you'd probably fall asleep instead of joining the party.

"i like.. i like your moans," you teased with a smile, making him groan.

"oh, shut up."

#owen power #owen power smut #owen power blurb #owen power x reader #owen power imagine #umich hockey smut #umich hockey imagine #umich hockey #sabres imagine #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #hockey blurbs #hockey imagine #hockey boy imagine #hockey boy smut #nhl smut #riri's thirsty thots #thirsty thots

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three-headed-monster · 3 years

Photo

THIGHS 🥵🥵🥵

(x)

#hockey #dylan cozens #sabres #i have some thirsty thoughts about this but i will not express #just LOOK AT HIM #my gifs

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sideswiped · 4 years

Text

you kno that moment on the bench when the ref was probably making sure jeff's ok and he smiled this really big and soft smile and laughed at himself.... Fuck in that moment i knew I Love Him

#sabres lb #jeff skinner #meyda being thirsty #but like #in a very soft way #sabres #meysays

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gustavlindstrom · 4 years

Text

ty sabres!!!!

#i haven't watched a game since november bc we've been winning when i havent been watching!!! (excluding the 'nucks game)#bc i couldn't watch bc i was busy ):#i want to watch sabres hockey so bad #but i am stitious #ALSO i've been dying bc i haven't watched a stars game since we started the w*n str*ak like. im so thirsty for hockey and i cannot watch!!!#joce rambles #sabres lb

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thirst-trapnhl · 5 years

Note

I never used to be into him at all but recently jack eichel has got me feeling some kind of way. his curls, his ass... his voice. i'm out like what is happening to me.

jack seems like someone who’s super competitive with both others and himself. He wants to fuck you right every time not only because he wants to be the best sexual partner you’ve ever had, but also because he wants to be the best sexual partner he’s ever been. He wants to learn your body as well as possible, wants you to cum over and over and over again because he wants you still thinking about him tomorrow when your pussy is still a little swollen and sensitive. He likes it a little rough, likes pulling your hair and smacking your ass and leaving some marks because its proof that he’s in control, he knows what hes doing, and you like it so fucking much

send me your thirst!

#thirsty thursday #answered #eichel #sabres #blurbs

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mohammad-hamood · 6 years

Photo

#so #thirsty #hungry #Ya #Allah #Give #Me#Sabr #Mohammad_hamoood

#give #mohammad_hamoood #so #thirsty #allah #hungry #sabr #me #ya

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norabrice1701 · 2 years

Text

Swordplay - Ch. 3

A Fencer!Zemo x Fem!Reader AU Series

Series Master List

Chapter Warnings: Explicit language, masturbation

Word Count: 1.3k

Chapter 3: Presentation - Offering one's blade for engagement by the opponent

You tried to reign in your curiosity. You did.

Alright, maybe you didn’t try that hard.

Curled up on your couch with a glass of wine, it hadn’t even taken five minutes of Netflix scrolling before you navigated to the YouTube app and searched 'Baron of Fencing'.

Countless videos filled your screen. Competitions on Sokovian national stages, European stages, the World Fencing Championships, and of course, the Olympics. A few videos even looked hastily shot on a phone camera in a practice room similar to the one you were in today.

You queued up the most viewed video – his first place victory bout at the 2015 World Fencing Championship – and found yourself unable to look away.

Such composed grace. Such unassuming strength. Such lethal precision. He struck like a viper, always sharp and controlled. His economy of motion left you breathless, never wasting a stroke of his blade or movement of his feet. Even his lunge made you squirm in your seat – watching him keep low and push forward with lightning-quick accuracy. As point after point accumulated for H. Zemo of Sokovia, he didn’t let the success go to his head. No showboating, no celebrations of victory. He kept his head down, ready for the next engagement.

Only at the end – when the bout was indisputably his, did he peel off his face mask and you were lost. He didn't look much younger than you’d see him today, but his hair hung shorter and loose over his brow, damp with sweat from the exertion. His eyes burned from the thrill of the fight, alive with adrenaline-fueled focus. The corners of his mouth lifted in a grin of victorious excitement as he saluted his blade to the applauding crowd.

How could one man be so breathlessly stunning?

You exhaled shakily, fumbling for your wine and advancing to the next video.

It didn’t take long for you to get addicted to watching the baron fence.

Helmut Zemo, so-called the Baron of Fencing. And apparently, that title wasn’t just media bestowed, either. The man was actually Sokovian royalty by birth. Somehow, that didn’t surprise you. Fencing certainly struck you as a sport for rich nobility, and from the look of the baron this afternoon, the man certainly projected aristocratic wealth.

You hit play on another video. The gold medal bout at the Rio 2016 Olympic Games. You’d never even known that it was USA vs. Sokovia for the top honors until just now. You didn't even know who won, but you were about to find out.

As you watched, the baron had to be part mind-reader. He made swift agility look effortless, as if he knew when USA’s Tony Stark would advance and retreat even before Tony did. The baron's sabre blade sliced invisibly through the air, matched by the speed of his opponent, and the score gradually started to increase. Stark kept it close, but in the end, it wasn’t enough to outmatch the baron. For the final point, the baron stayed low, his attack carefully coiled and carefully aimed. The crowd went wild for Sokovia’s first fencing gold medalist. Even your heart raced and a smile brightened your face from the excitement of the bout.

The baron removed his face mask and, fuck - he wasn’t even breathing hard. Talk about stamina. Heat bolted down your spine to settle between your legs as you watched him take the podium, running a hand through his wet hair. God, how would his hair feel carding through your fingers? Fine and silky? Thick and lush? Your hand clenched around the stem of your wineglass as your body continued to heat up at the thought.

Fuck, this was not what you needed. You didn’t need a thirsty infatuation for your fencing instructor’s fellow instructor. Thank god you would at least be spared the indignity of having the baron suffer to instruct you.

You exhaled, shifting your legs against the couch, blushing to feel the warm slick that had dampened your underwear. Seriously, were you really that desperate? Were you really considering getting yourself off to images of the baron’s sweat-soaked hair, his sharp eyes, and the precise movements of his body?

You took a gulp of wine, frowning at the next video title. Rio Olympics Fencing Scandal. Of course, you had to watch.

The anchorwoman stared at the camera. “It’s been another exciting day of action here at the Rio 2016 Games, but none so exciting as the exhilarating finish of the Men’s Fencing Gold Medal Bout. Sokovia’s Baron Helmut Zemo narrowly defeated USA’s Tony Stark to claim the nation’s first fencing gold medal, but the victory may be short lived. Our own Joe Walsh inside the arena has more information. Joe?”

The camera cut to the familiar scene from the gold medal bout, the fencing strip empty and dimly lit behind the anchorman. “Thanks, Kelly. Shortly after descending the podium with Sokovia’s first gold medal in fencing, Baron Helmut Zemo retired backstage and met with Tony Stark presumably under the guise of good sportsmanship. However, witnesses outside the locker room say that it didn’t take long for the situation to escalate."

The camera cut away, showing official portraits of both Stark and Zemo as the anchorman continued. "The details are still unfolding, but we do know that blood was drawn from one of the athletes, and both men’s sabres have been confiscated for investigation. The IOC and local authorities are investigating the incident, but already the early word is that Baron Zemo’s gold medal may not be the only thing in jeopardy, but also his ability to participate in future Olympic Games.”

You grabbed your phone, letting the clip play out as you pulled up subsequent news articles. Apparently, the blood had been Tony Stark’s. Apparently, it had been found on the tip of the baron’s blade. Apparently, there were lingering, unsubstantiated accusations that perhaps the baron’s blade was sharper than regulations allowed.

All of it had been more than enough to revoke his gold medal and earn him a lifelong ban from the Olympic Games. But curiously, it wasn't enough for the International Fencing Federation to ban him from the sport.

Fucking hell.

What could Stark have possibly said to the baron to provoke such a reaction? Just what kind of man would actually stab another man after defeating him? The baron only stood to lose everything, and it sounded like he absolutely had.

Why the hell would Bucky and Sam want to go into business with a man like that? Did they lose sleep at night wondering if they were just one outburst - or whatever caused the locker room fracas - away from being stabbed?

The newsclip ended on a portrait of Baron Zemo and it filled your TV screen. Of course the news station used a purposefully dramatic shot - a portrait in black and white, his face the picture of steely determination under lowered brows that lent a dark, dangerous edge. His hair was neatly swept back from his forehead, and he wore a crisp shirt and tie knotted at his throat under a stand-up collar jacket to complete the image.

He looked like such an elegant rogue, and despite your initial revulsion at learning the man had actually caused an international scandal by stabbing another man, there was something about him that you couldn’t deny. He was absolutely, most definitely your type.

And you were absolutely, most definitely in trouble.

Another wave of heat rolled through you, settling with insistent need between your thighs. You set your wine down and let your hand wander between your legs. Your hips rocked against the couch cushions as your fingers curled and rubbed around your slick folds, shamelessly indulging all the images you'd seen tonight. Your moans pitched higher as you played your body towards the blissful precipice. When you met the sharp, dark eyes on the screen, you cried out as orgasmic relief consumed you.

Series Master List

Tag List: @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @mischief-rcs @lilith-blackrose @httpmedxsa @glimmering-darling-dolly @violetmuses @mypoisonedvine @raniiaaa @belle82devart @linkpk88 @scuttle-buttle @somethingthatsaysbubbles @lizette50 @panagiasikelia

#zemo #zemo x you #helmut zemo fanfiction #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x reader #daniel brühl #daniel brühl x reader #daniel brühl x you #swordplay #fencer!zemo #zemo x reader #tfatws

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arduadastra · 3 years

Text

Lost Faith - Part One

A/N ITS FINALLY HERE!! Thank you for the support and I can't believe I wrote this, if you want a part two let me know!

FINALLY updated to this gorgeous header by @sirtadcooper (who you definitely need to follow)

This is set right after the season two finale and is kind of what I imagine Din would be feeling right after he’s handed Grogu off and what it would be like to find him.

Also, the crest didn’t explode ok, I refuse to believe that.

- 2.1K - (what happened?!)

/// Din is alone. He’s been alone most of his adult life. Once he left the convent he’s captured quarries solo for years. He’s used to the quiet solace hyperspace provides, the occasional hums and beeps from the crest console and the sounds of starlight rushing past is nothing more than white noise at this point. So why does it feel different this time? He leans over and flips a switch. He likes quiet, he knows quiet. Talking has never been his strong suit - in fact, he actively avoids it if he can but there’s a tightness in his chest he’s trying to ignore and he needs a fucking distraction before he punches something. After he had handed... to the Jedi he doesn’t really remember much else. Bo Katan had said something about needing to discuss his future and the dark sabre but he hadn’t paid her much thought to be honest. He had felt numb and it just didn’t seem important at the time. He remembers looking at them all and how they looked back at him. He didn’t even really realise why they seemed to stare so much until he accidentally kicked the helmet at his feet. He hadn’t bothered to put it back on. What’s the point? He had barely managed to justify putting it back on after revealing himself for that imperial scanner. Every soul that saw his face after that had died, other than Mayfeld that is. Technically no living being had seen his face so his creed remained unbroken. But this time? Din caught himself staring and at a lever with a certain missing sphere on top. He looked away. His creed. The one thing he held above all else. The thing that he had engrained into him since he was a foundling and what made him who he is: a Mandalorian. Yet, he has met Mandalorian's and they did not cover their face. They had called him different. ’A child of the watch’ Bo-Katan had said - was he even Mandalorian then? The thought cast his eye to his helmet lying discarded next to him. He thought he’d feel bare without it and he did back with the IG unit but now he just feels angry. The creed he abided by is broken now, but that doesn’t piss him off nearly as much as the realisation that it might not have even fucking mattered in the first place. He huffs. No, that’s not it. It is but it isn’t. The pressure in his chest returns and he gasps. “Dank Farrik.” Din clenches his eyes shut against the pain, it’s not like any other pain he’s felt before and he has been hurt a lot. He feels a burning sensation behind his eyelids and he shakes his head, opening his eyes and setting his next coordinates before he can think too hard about why his vision is slightly blurred. ///

It was nearing the end of your shift and you took in the sparse patrons left around you. Bar work wasn’t really what you wanted to do with your life but it’s all you had. No siblings and dead parents made for one lonely existence so you needed the company your customers provided. Drunken patrons tend to have the best stories too. You’ve heard it all over the years: divorced from the wife, hiding from the boss, hiding from the police - those were the best kind. Usually, you could guess why each one was there and why but you were stumped by someone. You had noticed the lone Mandalorian in your bar a while ago. You wouldn’t take a second glance usually but what strikes you is the fact he hasn’t moved in twenty minutes and he’s just been sat staring blankly at his own helmet the whole time. The bar is quiet and you’re the only one working so who gives a shit if you’re polishing the same glass over and over, he’s interesting. You haven’t seen a Mandalorian before let alone one as stoic as him. You’d heard the stories, of course, battle-hardened warriors capable of bringing grown men to their knees in a matter of seconds… Now that's an image. You love people-watching, or thing watching this far out in the rim, and it isn’t often you see humans. Especially ones like him. He seems sad, but not in the obvious moping, crying, shoulder shaking sad - more like he’s grieving. He’s been sat staring at the helmet on the table for a while. His hands are balled into a fist in front of it and it’s like he’s looking through it to the wall behind. His dark eyes have barely blinked and his hair is tousled on his head. He’s tanned too and has the most striking lips you’ve ever seen on a guy. You cock your head as you look at him - he’s hot. You feel bad thinking that when the guy is clearly miserable but he’s gorgeous. You have a thing for stubble and you can’t help but think how it would feel against your skin. And strangely you hate to see him so sad. You have an idea so you turn around and start making your favourite drink while you check on him over your shoulder. After a while, pleased with what you’ve concocted you walk to his table and drop the drink in his line of sight. You smile at him. “On the house.” He doesn’t look up, doesn’t seem to even acknowledge you’ve spoken to him let alone standing two feet to his left. You clear your throat. “That means it's free." He looks up at that, seemingly broken out of whatever trance he was in yet his eyes still seem so far away. “I’m not thirsty.” You nod your head to the table. “Well if you want to keep sitting here, you need something in front of you.” The man looks back at the drink, bumping it with his right fist then stares back ahead. “Ok.” He’s a chatty one. You look back at your bar and around at the other tables, no one seems to need assistance and you’re sure as hell not about to go back to standing behind an empty bar so you take in the Mandalorian and decide to sit across from him. You sigh, “Well the least you can do is have a sip, I made it after all.” The Mandalorian meets your eyes silently then glances down at the drink by his hands. He seems to take a few seconds studying the contents before bringing it to his lips for a drink. You watch him, watch as he drinks from the glass and how it travels down his throat. You see the tendons stretch and his adam apple move as he does. God, how can this guy make drinking sexy? You chide yourself on the thought. This guy is clearly going through something and he doesn’t need some random woman objectifying him. He’s finished now and is actively avoiding your eye line as he looks around himself. He seems lost like he doesn’t know how to have company with him. You decide at that moment that you aren’t leaving this guy alone. “My name is y/n by the way. What’s yours?” Nothing. He’s still not looking at you. You try again. “How was the drink?” The guy must have some form of manners because he responds at that with a slight nod. “Good.” Not much but you’ll take it. You’ve gathered from this short conversation that

this guy isn’t much for small talk so you decide to cut straight to the point. “Who did you lose?” He seems surprised by that. He looks at you fully then and you’re startled by his eyes. The rest of him seems so closed off, so shuttered but his eyes are a dead give away. They swim with grief and pain and it takes your breath away. He doesn’t respond but he keeps looking at you so you take it as permission to keep going. “I know sadness when I see it. See it every day here,” you gesture around you, “but yours seems deeper than that.” He turns away from you and you notice his jaw tense slightly, subtle but you caught it. You’re on the right track at least. “Was it your wife...or husband?” “No.”

Very quick you notice, so not a partner then. “Your friend?” He’s still looking away. Not that then. You look at his face again, he seems older than you. “Your kid?” That gets a reaction. His jaw ticks and his hand's clench. You see his bicep flex at the action and your mind wanders again and just what he looks like under that armour. “Leave me alone." You continue, “What were they like?” He frowns, and looks back at you, “You’re very insistent.” You scoff, “And you barely talk but I don’t judge.” You take a pause then lean forward into his space, “I just know it's useless when people say ’sorry’ or ’that's terrible.’ You know that already. I always found talking about them is more helpful, means there’s someone else out there to remember them.” The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything for a long time. He studies your face, eyes scanning over yours before dropping to your hands that have instinctively reached out towards him. Your fingers are grazing ever so slightly and you think he likes the contact. He leans back slightly in his chair and casts his eyes over your shoulder. “He’s not dead.” You hum, “Ok…” You think, “ ...so he’s missing?” The Mandalorian seems frustrated and shakes his head "Not missing, I mean I don’t know where he is but I - “ He casts his gaze back to you, almost as if he didn’t realise he had been talking, “Why are you asking me this?” You shrug, “Dunno, you just seemed like you needed someone to talk to.” He keeps looking at you. You lean forward more and so does he. Your fingers bump more insistently and you struggle to not rest your hands over his. The energy between the two of you changes ever so slightly, and you feel your hair stand up on end as he stares you down. He’s very intimidating. You like that. Neither of you moves away and the silence between you stretches on. You refuse to speak first because you sort of want to see what his next move is. You get the impression no one stands up to this guy and you want to be the first. He narrows his eyes, his jaw tenses when he speaks coldly, “I don’t need to talk. Go away.” Undeterred you smile at him, flashing him your teeth when you say “Oh I disagree.” He scoffs at that and gets up, leaving the drink you made him and walks out the door. You stand to follow him, grabbing his helmet as you go - how did he forget that? "Hey, we were talking!” you call after him, pushing yourself through the few stragglers still around on the street. He keeps walking, ignoring your yells so you shout louder, “you didn't even finish my drink!" Still nothing, "and you forgot your bucket!" That makes him turn and he sees the helmet under your arm. You walk towards him as he crosses his arms and sighs. He reaches out his hand for it but you hold it out of reach, “ah ah ah, I said we weren’t finished.” He scoffs “I say we have. Give it back.” “Nope.” You say popping the ‘p’ and you smile at him, “Not till you tell me what’s wrong.” He stalks forward and attempts to take the helmet but you’re quicker and sidestep him and cross it over into your other hand, leaning it out of reach again. He growls at that, “I’ll just take it from you.” You dance backwards slightly, “Oh I don’t think you will.” He remains where he is and scowls, “Don’t you have work to finish?” You shake your head, “Nah it's quiet and they’ll all leave now I’m gone. Besides, this is much more fun.” He’s getting annoyed now and gestures towards you, “What? Standing there holding my helmet hostage knowing full well I can just come over there and take it?” He walks forward again, anger now very present on his face - you love that you’ve rattled him. You know it must take a lot to get this guy mad but it seems you’ve done it rather easily. You grin at him, “You’ll have to catch me first.” And with that, you turn and run. ///

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