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pedroshotwifey · 1 year ago

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Favorite Bounty Chapter 2

Series masterlist

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Chapter W/C: 6.7k

Chapter tags/warnings: Nothing to warn about yet, fluff, no use of y/n, reader being a horny cuss, canon-typical violence, PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S NOTE

Chapter summary: You get settled into life on the Crest with Mando and his adorable kid. Unfortunately, that means getting used to having heart attacks every time Mando manages to almost get himself killed.

A/N: Hey, I'm going to go ahead and put it out there that these first few chapters will not be the best. Favorite Bounty was the first thing I ever wrote, so please keep that in mind. I have gone through and edited the small things so there is a bit of improvement from when it was originally posted to ao3. After chapter 4 is out, every chapter after that will be brand new and will have better grammar/writing. Thanks for reading! :)

***

You have been aboard the Razor Crest for two agonizingly slow, awkward, and very silent weeks. The Mandalorian is quiet. He’s been so quiet, you have found yourself wondering if he’s actually a droid under that heavy beskar armor. If you hadn't already seen the flash of tan skin under his flight suit, you would be convinced.

You didn't mind the silence at first, you assumed that it was because he just wasn't used to having another person around. At this point, though, you’re pretty sure it's because he finds you annoying or something.

The first time the thought occurred, it had bothered you that he might think of you as a nuisance, but you’ve taught yourself not to care. After all, if you really bothered him that much, he could have dropped you off on any random planet already, so that couldn't be it. The fact that you are still aboard the crest is enough proof that your company can’t be all that bad.

You do your best to stay out of the way anyway, but there have been a couple of times when you and “Mr. Cold Shoulder” have had no choice but to cross paths. The ship is large enough for you to avoid him for the most part, but unfortunately, you can't predict what hall he will be going through and when.

On the occasions that you have had to squeeze by each other, it has always been in one of those damned halls. It usually ends up being you who has to hug the wall as he walks through, ignoring you just as much as usual. Entitled asshole.

The first day, surprisingly, wasn’t the worst. You hadn't remembered falling asleep, but when you woke up on the metal floor of the ship that morning, you found that you had been covered by a blanket. You had been flattered to know that the Mandalorian had cared enough to give you one.

That flattery quickly faded though when you went through the rest of the day hearing practically nothing from the man. The only times he had talked to you was to order you to stop touching things.

After a few times—one of which you swear you weren't actually touching anything—you retreated back to the corner of the hull you had slept in. You had picked the child up on your way, glaring at Mando as if to dare him to snap at you for that.

Now, two weeks later, you sit in that same corner, on the same blanket, bouncing the same baby on your lap. You can tell the Mandalorian has grown used to you handling the kid because he doesn’t even spare you a glance when you reach for him at this point.

You look at the kid wobbling around on top of your legs. He seems to have gotten used to the constant handling as well. At least one of the boys actually enjoys your presence.

You playfully stick your tongue out at the child as you continue to bounce him on your leg. He babbles something in your direction and reaches his tiny hands out. You grab one of them with the hand that's not supporting him and pretend to slow dance.

You have grown fond of the little goblin and he seems to have taken a liking to you as well, sometimes opting to reach for you over his dad–who you can tell definitely glares at you from under his helmet when the child chooses to do so.

You used to feel bad about the kid picking you over the Mandalorian, but your pettiness has taken over at this point. After all, it’s the only way you can get back at him for being such a dick all the time.

You know the man wouldn't dare deny that kid something he wants just because he didn't like it. Even if he might not want to admit it, Mando knows that the kid enjoys having someone else to play with. Maker knows his father can’t be much fun.

You are pulled from your thoughts when you feel the kid start to slump in your lap. You sigh as you scoop him into your arms and bring him back to his crib. You know you can't rely on the child to keep you company all the time, you need to find other things to occupy your time. There are not many things to do on the crest, and you feel like you have already exhausted all of your options.

The third day, you had woken up to the ship touching down on some unknown planet. You had no idea that Mando had intended to stop. You thought that surely, this is where he planned to leave you. After all, you couldn’t have thought that he would just change his mind and move you in.

You collected your belongings and remained sat on your bed until you heard Mando jump down from the cockpit. Without looking at you, he walked to the ramp and lowered it. You didn't make a move to get up until he glanced your way, obviously wanting you to follow him.

You scrambled up after him as he descended down the ramp. As usual, nothing was said between the two of you as you made your way through that small town.

It was hard to navigate through the thick crowd and you were thankful that you had Mando in front of you, cutting you a path. It seemed that people naturally tried to avoid him. You probably would too if you didn’t know him.

You still have not gotten over how intimidating he can be. You figure a lot of it might have to do with the fact that he doesn’t ever talk. You never have any idea what he might be thinking, and it's unsettling to know that—good or bad—it could be about you.

After a few hours' worth of weaving in and out of shops, the Mandalorian had started to backtrack to his ship. It took you a little while to realize that he finished whatever he had to do in town but when you did, you stopped dead in your tracks.

There is no way he is taking you back with him. When you left your home planet, he had told you that he was going to drop you off somewhere else.

Didn't he want you gone? He never said that you would be staying with him on the Crest. Maker knows he doesn’t want you to. Did he expect you to just leave on your own at some point while he was looking around through the shops?

You stood glued to the same spot while you tried to sort out what you were supposed to do. Chewing your lip, you stared ahead at the ground. You were only pulled out of your questioning state when a pair of boots stopped in your line of sight.

You looked up to see the Mandalorian standing in front of you. His helmet tilted to the side ever so slightly when you reached his gaze. You’re weren’t sure what to say. Should you just be straight forward and ask him what you are supposed to do?

You had wished then more than ever that you could read his mind. Especially when he turned back around and continued walking away. You stare after him, not sure if you should follow him or not.

He had answered your silent question though, when he had turned his head back around mid-stride.

“Are you coming or not?” is all he said.

He stood waiting for you for another second before you jolted forward to catch up with him. You weren’t really sure why you had wanted to go with the Mandalorian so badly, but you figured it would be better than trying to start over on some strange planet.

Although confused as to why Mando had given you the choice, you weren’t going to question it. You had already made yourself a bit at home on the Crest and you sure as kriff weren’t going to be upset if he allowed you to stay,

You have figured since then that it was probably because you had proven yourself useful. You kept the ship tidy, you took care of the kid, and you stayed out of the way for the most part. Well, you figure, if that's what keeps you aboard, you are going to continue doing so for as long as you can.

By the fourth or fifth day, you had cleaned the entire ship—save for the Mandalorian’s quarters—until it looked almost brand new. In the days after that, you had repaired a couple of minor wiring issues and fixed up some of the paneling in the cockpit and in the hull.

Maker, you feel like you’ve done everything from fixing issues with the GPS to scrubbing the floor of the fresher. You try to scan your brain for anything you may have missed, but you know it’s hopeless.

You eventually decide that you would rather go sit in the cockpit with the silent Mandalorian than be alone in the hull with nothing to do but stare at the wall. At least this way you will be able to watch the streaks of hyperspace. That way you won’t have to be in complete solitude.

Even silent company is better than none at all. You know it might not be the best idea to risk bothering the man, but you begin to climb the ladder nonetheless.

You slip into the cockpit as quietly as you can and take a seat in the chair behind the voiceless pilot. The two of you sit in the quiet of hyperspace for what seems like hours before you break it with a sigh. It was a bit over dramatic, you’ll admit it. You’re just so tired of sitting in awkward silence when there is another person completely capable of having a conversation right in front of you.

He cranes his neck slightly to look at you over his shoulder. You keep your eyes trained on him and raise your eyebrows as if to say “Is there something you need?”. You’ve given up trying to be nice. You figure if he isn’t going to show any effort to be friendly, then neither should you.

He doesn't say anything as turns his head back around and flicks a couple of switches. He stays facing forward for a minute and you decide that that is likely the most interaction the two of you will have today.

You sit up a bit to tuck one of your legs underneath you and set an elbow on the armrest so you can prop your head up on your closed fist. You sigh, quietly this time, and look up to watch the white flashes through the dura-glass.

You think about going back down to the hull so you can fall asleep early, but decide against it. You know you aren’t tired enough to be able to do that right now.

You hear a barely noticeable creak come from the Mandalorian’s general direction and snap your attention back to him. He has turned his chair around to face you completely. You can’t miss the way his legs are spread wide, as if he was subconsciously taking up as much space as he can.

You hate the way you are attracted to his stance. He bleeds confidence and intimidation without even trying.

Your eyes wander to his crotch before you can catch yourself. You only look for a split second before you correct yourself, but it’s long enough for you to catch sight of the rather prominent bulge in his pants.

Your eyes widen slightly and you tuck your head into the fist that is resting on your cheek to try to hide your blush before the Mandalorian can realize what happened. Before you can stop it, visions float to the forefront of your mind. They come in flashes as you work to push them down.

You see the Mandalorian above you, slamming into you hard and fast, dominating you. You see him below you, watching as you bounce in a steady rhythm bringing you both to a climax. You envision him right in front of you as you are seated in the copilots chair and he wraps a hand in your hair and guides you toward his-

You quickly pull yourself away from that thought. That's too real, too in the moment, too dangerous to be thinking of how much you wish it was. It seems like it could happen so easily, but you know that it would never be.

You try to stop your eyes from widening again as you look up at his helmet. You pray silently that he didn’t notice your little mishap. He cocks his head ever so slightly. He definitely noticed.

You swallow slowly and maintain eye contact even as you feel your face burn even more than it had before.

“I-I um,” you surprise yourself as you speak. “I’m going to head down for the night,” you say, trying desperately to get yourself out of this situation. Your voice sounds squeaky, but you don't bother to try to fix it. You would probably end up saying something you would regret.

He says nothing but gives a slight nod in your direction after you make no move to get up. Once you get the approval, you try not to stumble as you get up and walk out of the cockpit as quickly but smoothly as you can.

When you hear the door behind you shut back into place, you let out the huff of breath you had been holding as you curse yourself. “Nice going, dumbass,” your head screams at you. You stay in place to try to collect yourself before you attempt the ladder back down to the hull.

You sit down on your makeshift bed on the floor and try to collect yourself. You’re not an idiot, you have noticed the sexual tension between the two of you that seems to just keep growing, but you didn’t think that the Mandalorian was as aware. With his recent display though, it seems that he knows exactly what he's doing.

You can't help it as the image of the warrior from just moments ago seeps back into your head. He was the absolute picture of masculinity. His musky smell seemed to have filled the room as soon as he had swiveled around to face you.

It was almost intriguing, the way he had looked so relaxed yet so sure of himself at the same time. To be honest, you don’t know if there is any way for the man not to look confident at all times. He radiates pheromones and seems to automatically dominate any place he wants to just by being there.

You wonder if he is trying to do the same to you.

***

You wake up the next morning to the ship jolting to a sudden stop. You don't remember when you had fallen asleep but you figure that is probably for the best. What you do remember is the multiple sexual scenarios featuring yourself and Mando that had intruded into your dreams. You blush again at the thought as you recall some of the scenes that had played out last night.

It feels so wrong but so right at the same time to picture Mando in these ways. You guess you could describe it as your guilty pleasure.

The first time you had fantasized about Mando, you had startled yourself with your forward thoughts. You hadn't realized that you had even been attracted until you had caught yourself in the middle of an erotic daydream. You had criticized yourself and shook the unwelcomed visions from your head.

Since then though, you have slowly come to find your private fantasies a vital source of entertainment. When you often find yourself with nothing else to do, even though you still feel a tad bit guilty, you allow your daydreams to play front and center while you stare off.

Not to mention the times when Mando is away hunting a bounty, and you get the ship all to yourself. After you put the kid to bed, sometimes you will allow yourself the pleasure of getting your release as you make up new images alone in your cot.

A couple times, the Mandalorian has walked in on you while you are lost in a private moment, only the times when you had been staring into nothingness, thank the maker. Each time it happened you would feel the blood rush into your cheeks, but you would do your best to play it off as though you had simply been dozing off.

You knew you couldn't do much more than that but pray to the maker that the silent warrior hadn't put the pieces together and caught on. That would be the day you would jump off the Crest and into the welcoming vacuum of space.

You sit up on your blanket and stretch your hands into the air. Your back hurts from sleeping on the floor of the ship every night, even if it is slightly cushioned by the layers of blankets you set up. The pain now though is nothing compared to when you were working at the junkyard back on your planet, so you can't really find it in yourself to care much.

Suddenly, you hear the thumping of Mando’s boots in the cockpit above you. You groan as you remember last night's little incident. Honestly, how embarrassing can you be? You scold yourself for acting so transparently.

You hope that somehow, the Mandalorian wasn’t able to tell your feelings for him by your flustered actions, but you know it's wishful thinking. He would have to either be dumb or extremely ignorant, which he most definitely is not.

Even if it may be the cause of your downfall, you admire Mando for those qualities. He always seems to pay attention to small details that anyone else would be likely to miss. You figure that's what makes him such a damn good bounty hunter.

Since you have been traveling with him, he has brought in six bounties. It never took him more than a few hours in each place before he was walking back up the ramp with the criminal in tow. Barely glancing in your direction, he would walk past you, making sure you’re at least out of reach of the unwelcomed company, and then shove them into a carbonite chamber.

The first time he came back with a bounty, you had to scramble away to a different part of the Crest to hide the blush creeping up on your cheeks. You knew it was wrong, but you couldn't help how turned on you got as you watched the silent warrior manhandling the twi'lek bounty through the ship.

You’re not sure if it was the way he tossed the thug around so effortlessly, or if it was the way he ignored the crook as he begged for his life, without a morsel of regret or hesitancy. Maybe it was the image that popped into your head of how easily he would be able to take control of you and take whatever he wanted - knowing of course that you would give it willingly anyways.

You try to shake the vision from your mind as it appears again now. You have really got to stop doing that.

The fuzziness of sleep starts to dissipate when Mando steps into your vision. You look up at him as he struts to the ramp of the ship and lowers it. You wonder for a second if he is going to leave without saying anything to you, but he turns around while the gangway continues to descend.

“I'm going to be gone for a while this time.”

A gust of freezing cold wind blows snow into the ship and you shiver. You pull the blanket that is still on top of you up to your shoulders to shield yourself from the frost.

You feel like a little kid as you stare up at him, waiting for him to elaborate. He doesn't. “Okay,” you nod at him. He nods back and turns around towards the open ledge. “Stay close to the ship,” he tells you. “This place is an icy skughole”.

Your eyebrows furrow. You don't like being told what to do, but you know that he’s right to tell you to stay. Once he steps onto the planet’s surface, he tells you to look after the kid before he pushes a button on his vambrace to bring the ramp back up.

Okay then. Nice talk.

***

After a few minutes, you get up to see if the child is awake yet. He’s not, so you decide to hop in the fresher since you have the time.

The fresher doesn't get very hot, so you turn the water up as much as you can and step in. you sigh as the stream hits the tense muscles in your back.

As you scrub shampoo into your hair, you think about Mando. You try not to worry about him—he's been doing this long before you met him after all—but it's instinct to wonder if he will be coming back in one piece.

You have always had a deep respect for bounty hunters—the good ones anyway. You couldn't imagine trying to track someone down and then having to manhandle them back to wherever you were instructed. A person would have to be practically made of pure muscle to be able to fight someone through the adrenaline their opponent is experiencing.

You smirk as you think about how much muscle the Mandalorian must be carrying. You had felt the firmness of his thigh as you had patched him up on that first day. You weren't paying much attention to that detail then, but now you savor the memory as it feeds your out-of-control imagination.

You think about how strong and comforting being wrapped in his arms would feel until the water runs cold. You flinch at the temperature change and jump out of the fresher, rolling your eyes at yourself for getting distracted again.

You hear the kid babbling as you step out so you secure the towel to your body and grab him a breakfast portion on your way to his hover-pram. You set him down on your makeshift bed and turn him to face the wall before handing him his portion.

You can't help the grin that creeps up on your face as you watch him play with a small metal ball while he nibbles his breakfast. That kid is too damn cute for his own good.

Not knowing what else there is to do, you figure you will take the child outside to see the snow after you get ready. You wonder to yourself if he has ever had the chance to see it before.

It warms your heart to think that you might be the first one to show him. Maybe you will show him how to make snow angels. You might make a snow fort with him, he would probably love that.

After toweling off and waiting for your hair to dry a little, you throw two layers on and then add a coat for good measure. You are grateful you picked up some new clothes on the last planet you stopped on.

You weren't sure about getting the heavy coat, but as you start to warm up, you’re grateful you did. The kid finishes his breakfast as you pull a woolen cap over your head. You scoop him up and wrap him in a small blanket as he coos at you.

You frown as the blanket swallows his form. When you get back inside, you will have to sew him a cloak out of one of the blankets you sleep on. You could spare one for the little gremlin.

“You want to go see the pretty snow sweetheart?,” you ask him excitedly. He claps his little three fingered hands together and babbles back at you. You take that as a yes.

You hit the button next to the ramp and watch it lower, covering the kids eyes as the snow blows in to dust the edge of the ship’s belly.

Once the ramp is all the way down, you walk down it and take a step into the snow. The kid looks up and laughs at you when you let out a sharp “yip” at the feeling of the freezing powder biting your skin halfway up your calves.

You can't help but laugh at yourself too; you weren't expecting the snow to be so deep. The kid starts to make grabby hands at the ground so you lower him and cautiously set him down. Luckily, he does not weigh enough to sink down like you did.

You imagine trying to explain that to Mando. “Yeah, sorry about that, I set the kid down and he just disappeared right into the ground!” You chuckle at the thought because in reality you know you would probably be dead before you could get a word in.

Sometimes, you’ve learned, you just have to laugh so you don't have to worry. It works for the most part so you don’t really see a negative in it.

You taught yourself to do this within the first few days of knowing Mando because it felt like you had to worry all the time. It was exhausting. You figured maybe if you didn't seem so on-edge, he would relax a bit too.

So much for that idea…

You look down when you feel a little hand grip your pant leg. The kid is trying to pull your weight out into the clearing. You smile as you obey his request and step away from the ship.

Making sure not to go too far, you step in front of the child and lead him to a particularly fluffy looking spot. A smile crawls onto your face as you crouch down to take a handful of snow.

Seeing your actions, the kid reaches down and grabs a fistful for himself. Waiting until he seems to be satisfied with his bunch, you slowly start to pack the powder into a ball.

You hold it out for the kid to see and watch as he attempts to copy you once again. He packs a little too hard and the snow crumbles back to the ground.

You give him an encouraging smile and hand him a new bunch. You demonstrate again with your own and make sure to exaggerate how softly you are tapping the snowball as it takes shape.

He seems to get it because soon enough, he is holding a little ball of his own. He coos and you laugh back at him.

Looking around to make sure you have enough room, you back up and begin to roll your snowball through snow. You make a full circle around the kid and then make a trail in front of him, watching as the ball grows bigger with each step.

He giggles at you when you stop in front of him with what you have decided will be the base of your snowman. You can't help but giggle back when he plops his snowball back to the ground and begins to run it in a circle as you had done.

Once the snowball is built up to the size it needs to be for the body, you grab it and stack it on top of the first. You hand the kid the last one and tell him to roll it until it's just a little smaller than the last one.

Once satisfied with the size, you grab that one and stack it at the top. You step back and pick up the kid so you can both admire your hard work.

You smirk as an idea pops into your head. Mando may kill you for this but it's going to be so worth it.

You set the kid back down and he immediately gets to work in the snow, making more snowballs and setting them into a neat stack. After making sure he's content to do that for a moment, you turn back to the faceless snowman and get to work.

You pick up some more snow and start to pack it onto the head to give it the shape of a helmet. It's not perfect, but it makes you laugh out loud when you find the right shape.

You round out the top and start to hollow the cheeks out a bit to make the ridges as realistic as you can. Still smiling, you turn around and search for two sticks for arms and two smaller ones to complete the helmet.

You find what you are looking for and put the arms onto the torso of the snowman so that they are sticking out. After making sure the arms aren’t going to fall out, you move back to the top.

You push the first stick horizontally near the top of the “face” and then put the second one vertically under the middle section of the first. You step back and admire your work one more time.

You laugh and pick the kid up to show him your work. “Look, It's a snow-mando!” you tell him through your wheezes. He stares at the figure for a moment before he too starts to giggle.

You know Mando would probably hate it, but the idea was far too enticing to pass up on. Looking at the finished product, you have no regrets.

***

After both you and the kid got your fill of playing in the snow, you clambered back into the ship and fixed up some lunch. You put the kid down for a nap after he finished eating and got back into the fresher for a second just to warm back up.

As you get dressed, you think about what you can do to occupy yourself for the rest of the day. When you tug on a light jacket, you remember your plans to sew one for the kid.

You grab the blanket you planned on using and plop yourself down on the floor next to your makeshift bed. You tug a short container over your way and start to pencil in a design to cut out.

Halfway through cutting the pieces out, you hear a commotion towards the front of the ship. You go to jump up but then remember that Mando had told you he would be gone for a while.

Did he just mean a few more hours than usual? Deciding to take a peak, you lift your head up just so that your eyes are above the crate sitting next to you.

The ramp is open, but other than that, nothing appears to be out of the ordinary. You shoot your head back down when you hear a hissing sound come from where the carbonite chambers are.

It sounded like one of the chambers had been activated, but that doesn’t make any sense, you didn’t see anyone on board.

Knowing you need to be able to protect the kid from any potential danger, you shakily rise to your feet. keeping your head ducked down, you inch around the crate toward where you heard the sounds.

You gasp as you see a figure splayed across the floor in front of the chambers. You almost fall back down when you realize that the figure is clad in beskar.

“Mando!” you exclaim as you scramble to him. He doesn’t respond to your voice or to your movement and you feel tears well up in your eyes.

As you rush toward him, you see the carbonite settling around a large figure that you assume is the bounty. You calm down a little knowing that at least there is no threat waiting to pop out at you, but there is no way you can relax when your gaze turns back to the unconscious Mandalorian.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod-

Not knowing what to do, you loosen the fabric around his neck and press two fingers under his helmet, trying to find a pulse. It's there, but it's faint.

Maker, he’s freezing! You gasp as you make skin to skin contact. He feels like he had been laying in the snow for hours. You need to warm him up, which feels like an impossible task in this icebox of a ship.

You push back your anxiety and check your surroundings before you slam the button next to the ramp to bring it back up. That should at least keep it from getting any colder in here.

After the ramp is back into place, you get back to Mando and carefully check his body for any injuries. You see none so you focus on building a plan to warm him up.

It only takes a moment for you to figure out what the best course of action would be. You take a deep breath and move towards the ladder that leads to the top part of the ship. With shaky hands, you grab the first rung and start to pull yourself up.

As soon as you reach the top, you veer to the right and step into the generator room. You put your hand on top of the ship heater but hesitate for a moment. Turning it on would mean that fuel would burn quickly, hence why it hasn’t been on this whole time.

You know that Mando would be furious if he knew you turned it on, but you decide that a mad Mandalorian is better than a dead one—you hope.

Before you can doubt yourself any further, you push a button and turn a knob until the heat is all the way up. It only takes a second for you to feel the warm air starting to circulate into the Crest. You sigh at the feeling and turn back around to the ladder.

Once you reach the belly of the ship again, you snatch the stack of blankets from where you sleep and start to drag them to Mando. You cover him with the layers and lean down to feel for his pulse again.

When your fingers touch his neck you hear him gasp and you almost jump out of your skin. “Jeez Mando, you scared the absolute Bantha shit out of me!” you tell him as you jerk your hand back. You hear a tremble in your voice that you had no idea would be there.

As relieved as you are that he seems to be responding to you at this point, you know that this must just be the calm before the storm. You are smart enough to know that he is going to be pissed about probably every single thing you had done within the last ten minutes.

You decide you should just cut to the chase and get it over with. You don't feel like having to do this later tonight. You begin to tell him everything that you had done since he came back to the ship.

“I figured you would be upset about the heat, but for makers sake Mando, I thought you were going to die!” as you said the words, it really hit you just how scared you had actually been.

What hit you even harder was the realization that you would have been devastated with the loss. It wouldn't have just been an inconvenience if Mando had died on the ship—It would have hurt you deeply.

You take a deep breath and sit down next to the Mandalorian. You feel him shift into a sitting position beside you. You have no idea why he hasn’t said anything yet, but you would rather him be silent instead of reprimanding you right now.

Ignoring the movement beside you, you continue on with your shaky explanation without making eye contact. “I'm so sorry…I just didn't know what to do.” You look down at your feet when you feel like you have said everything you needed to.

You didn't even realize you had started to cry until you felt a gloved thumb brush a tear away from your drenched cheek. You flinch away at first, not used to the contact.

Once you get past your initial shock, you tilt your head up to look at the Mandalorian’s visor. He still has not said anything. Not like that is too surprising.

Your breathing begins to slow as Mando flattens his gloved hand to cup your chin. “Mando I-”

You are cut off by the swipe of his thumb across your lip, the touch light as a feather.

The Mandalorian shifts his position to be more comfortable and brings his other hand to rest at the base of your skull. you are too stunned to speak as he gives you a gentle nudge so that your face is resting against the space between his shoulder and neck.

Still shaking slightly, you let out a shuddering sigh and allow yourself to breathe in the sweet scent that can only be described as Mando. You can't help but relax in his grasp as he removes his hand from your chin and uses it to pull you onto his lap.

Cradling you in his lap, he begins to sway slightly in a comforting motion. You curl up and try to steady your racing heart as you wrap your arms around his torso.

You both sit tangled in silence as your tears begin to dry and your heart slows back to a normal pace. The closest you have ever gotten to Mando was when you had patched his wounds that first night, yet sitting here in silence with him feels like the most natural thing in the world.

You relax as if you and he had done this hundreds of times before, you can't help but feel like this is where you belong. The sense of belonging overrides your confusion and you close your eyes at the comforting feeling.

“Shh cyar’ika,” he whispers into the shell of your ear. “Everythings okay now.”

You have to stifle the sob that threatens to protrude through your lips when you hear his gentle tone. The only time you have ever heard him speak in that way has been when you overheard him comforting the child.

You hold on to him tighter and lift your head up to meet his gaze. “You’re okay?” you ask him, worry clear in your expression and the slight quiver of your voice.

The Mandalorian is grateful you can’t see his face because he wouldn’t have been able to hide the way he melted when you looked at him that way. He is not used to having anybody being worried about him, and, like the stupid fool he deems himself to be—he didn’t realize that you had.

He felt a sting of guilt as he recalled the recent interactions between the two of you. Of course he cared for you—how could he not? You took such good care of him and the kid, not to mention the way you paid attention to the ship. He just never figured that someone as precious as you could ever care for him in that way, so he figured if he kept you at an arm's length, he wouldn't risk doing anything he might regret.

Deep down, he knows that he is undeserving of your affection, but he also knows now that you fear losing him. Now that he is sure, he is not going to let you go. As he holds you tight in his arms, he vows to himself that he will do everything in his power to keep you safe.

“Yes pretty girl, i’m okay,” he tells you before he lowers his helmet to rest on top of your head. “Go to sleep now, you’ve had a big day.

Naturally, you want to protest, but you know you can't fight the exhaustion that is slowly pulling you under. You don't think you have the energy to reply with words, so you just nod and put your head to his chest.

At some point, you feel Mando carefully lower you down with him until you are both laying down. You are still on top of him when he reaches down and covers you with a light blanket.

As you drift off, you hear the Mandalorian whisper quietly - so quietly that it may have been a dream.

“Everything will be okay cyare,” he says, “I've got you now.”

****

Thanks for reading!! Taglist is open <3

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royal-songbird · 11 months ago

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The Origins of Etho's Dishwasher

Hello all !! I got bored so. i decided to write out this silly little drabble of grian first discovering his magma cube, ethos dishwasher, in my secret life apocalypse au :D i wrote this for fun, so ignore any mistakes or whatever

Word count: 508

Grian has terrible impulse control. He’s quite good at pretending he actually does have good control over every little thought pinging around in his skull, and only indulges in them for the bit, but in all honesty, it's almost abysmal how little he’s in charge of his own thoughts.

Of course, in general, this isn’t much of a problem. The worst that comes out of his incredibly impulsive nature are months-long prank wars, but those usually end on a good note, with everyone pitching in on the cleanup. In fact, Grian would even argue that his prank wars help bring everyone together, no matter how much the others may insist otherwise.

But that is not the point of this observation. What brought Grian to this unsurprising realization is the little glob of hell sitting at his feet, blinking innocently up at him, as if it's done no wrong.

And, one might ask, ‘glob of hell? Isn’t that a bit dramatic?’, and no, no it is not. The creature in front of Grian seems to be made up of actual lava, its eyes a burning orange, chunks of the molten rock swirling beneath its dark, hardened exterior. Grian’s wearing pants, but he can still feel the heat radiating from the thing, like standing too close to a campfire.

Now, that brings another question around- Why is Grian with a glob of hell in the first place? Well, that’s where his impulsivity plays in. He’d been out looting, as one does in the middle of a world-end apocalypse, when he had stumbled directly into the ‘corrupted’ part of the city. It had been long since overtaken by a strange, other-worldly growth with towering, basalt spikes and strange red trees and vines, pools of lava seeping through fissures in the streets. Basically, a walking death pit.

But, Grian being- well- Grian, did not retreat like a normal, logical person would do. No, instead, he headed deeper into the city, ignoring any scrap of self-preservation he might’ve had. Look, he had thought there would be more untouched supplies there- he hadn’t once seen a single survivor go in there, so logically, there had to be some things leftover. In the end, his brave exploration did not yield much, aside from the glob of hell now following him around.

He had run into it after narrowly avoiding death from a giant, floating octopus-like creature that shot fireballs, and it just…hadn’t left his side since. Grian tried getting rid of it, he really did, but the thing refused to leave. And now, against his better judgment, Grian has gotten… a tiny bit attached to it.

In his defense, the creature is quite cute, if he looks past the made-from-lava part. And sure, there’s an apocalypse going on right now, and taking in a pet is probably not the best idea, but is that really such a big deal?

Grian frowns as he looks at the magma cube. It blinks back, letting out a gurgling noise, lava bubbles popping inside it.

Yeah, this is fine.

#sl!apocalypse au #secret life smp #secret life #mcyt #grian #secret life grian #secret life fanfic #mcyt fanfic #grian fanfic #finch does stuff

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renneiscent · 1 year ago

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Two Sides of The Same Coin

Note: I wrote this in the speed of Usain Bolt just because I want to write the kissing scene hahaha. It doesn’t make any sense in my mind either, but yeah. This chapter’s title is inspired by TXT’s song and I quote; “in this world of zero, I know you are my 1.”

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 5: 0x1

“Do you mind if I kiss you?”

That was stupid question, Jake. You don’t need to ask me or even wait for my permission, I will be happy to let you kiss me. But I didn’t say that, and instead I only stare at him which his gaze is locking on me like magnet that is hard to repel. My, my, look at those endearing eyes. That would be a crime for having that face. How can someone resist?

I can.

“You did already kiss me though,” I joke at him, ignoring my primal need to kiss him immediately. Please bear it with me, my brain and my heart! We need to hear his explanation first.

He chuckles as he presses his forehead against mine, his gaze is intimidating. “You know that’s not what I meant,” he strokes my head and plays with my hair.

“I will let you kiss me if you explain me everything, if you answer every of my question.” I smug, feeling the little tease won’t hurt anyone or who knows it will lure him. “What do you think about it?”

“No,” he pulls his hand away from me as he leans back to the sofa; looking at me with this adorable yet mocking grin on his face. His smile is so annoying, I feel irritated.

“Why!” I whine until I stand up from my seat out of frustration.

He takes my hand and pulls me; making me standing between his legs, making him has to look up to stare at me in the eyes. I’m thrilled. Was it me the one that irritated a few seconds ago?

“What? You don’t want to kiss me, right?” I pout as I avoid looking at him in the eyes.

“Why, of course. I want to, I will kiss every inch of you if that’s the only requirement that you need,” he is playing with my fingers as he smirks at me.

“Then, why won’t you do it?” I hit him lightly in the shoulder.

“Well,” he pulls me and makes me to sit on his lap, I obey. “I don’t want you to be forced to do something that you don’t want to do, just because of a kiss.” His eyes are still locking with mine as he places my hand on his shoulder, moving his hand to my waist. “I will start taking control of you with the kiss, and perhaps influence you in every action even more with the power you just gave me.” His fingers caress my waist, “I don’t want that.”

“I don’t know that you have integrity,” I joke.

“What are you actually thinking of me?” he chuckles.

“Anything but someone that has integrity,” I grin. “Then, what should I tempt you with? I believe you have weak spot that you cannot even resist.”

He stares at me. Those eyes are the villain.

“You,” he leans on his head on the backrest of the sofa, looking at the ceiling while taking deep breath before turn to face me again. I blink confusedly. “I’m already loser in this game.”

Just before I managed to ask him what does it mean, his hand already reaches my nape and pulls me closer to his face. My heart is beating faster as I close my eyes immediately, I can feel his warm breath brushes my lips, and so does his lips already attach on mine now. There is something inside my body, it’s twirling and growing, even every fibre of my body tells me that they want him. His lips are soft and sweet, I’m not sure if that’s normal or purely my subjective opinion toward him. But I enjoy it, and I hope he also enjoys the taste of me.

He nibbles my lips, he sucks it, and he tastes every inch of it. He claims me. His mouth is so possessive and it makes every part of me is melting and turning into liquid which flooding everywhere. He invades me as if I’m the unoccupied land and he names me his.

Good Lord, he is such a good kisser.

My breath is heavy as I feel like I’m running out of the oxygen, then I can feel Jake’s hand is moving from my back of head to my hair. He pulls my hair gently as we break the kiss, makes me stretching my neck and showing more skin. His mouth now is occupying my neck but sometimes to my shoulder or even my collarbone, taking over every inch of it. My soul is being swallowed by him.

After he leaves a small kiss on my jaw, the kiss comes to a halt. His hand lets go of my hair then slowly trails on my nape then to my back, I shiver. Now I open my eyes and find his eyes are looking fixedly on me, I melted.

As both of us are slowly panting, I find that he smile at me, “now you are finally looking at me.”

I blush.

“Well, now that you proved me right. You don’t have integrity,” I grin but my fingers are playing with his shirt nervously.

He chuckles then leans on to steal a kiss from my lips again. I didn’t prepare myself for him to kill me like this.

“So, are you going to answer my questions?” I make sure.

“If I can,” he says while nibbling my neck. It doesn’t sting, but instead growing whole army of butterflies inside my belly.

“Okay,” one word that comes out from my mouth managed to attract his attention toward me. He is now looking at me, waiting for me to continue speaking, while his hand still rubbing my waist. “What are you doing here actually?”

“Business matter,” he replies shortly.

“The business that involves target and key?” I recall about what Athena said earlier.

“Yes,” he nods.

“Is it related to the government and your hacking skill?” I ask again.

“Hacking, yes. Government, still doubtful.”

He answers every of my question even though it’s still vague, and I’m having so much things to ask and say to him until my brain is having hard time to list the order.

“Is Athena your partner?”

“Yes,” he takes a short pause. “And there are few more people actually.”

I frown, “are they women or men?”

He raises his brows, surprised with my question it seems. Then he smiles, it looks like he wants to tease me. But I don’t even care. “Most of them are men. Do you have anything to concern about?”

Of course, I do. Why do you think I asked that?

“No,” I say instead. My eyes are looking somewhere else.

“Hmm,” he mutters then tugs my hair behind my ear. “She is nice person. If there will be bad person here, it must be me.”

“How come?” my lips are pursed conflicted with his statement.

“Because I told you to forget about me but then I jump into your life and bring you here and I still have guts to ask you forget everything again,” he smiles. But this time the smile doesn’t ease any weight on me.

“Then why don’t you try to become nice this time?” I cup his face as I frown.

He takes my hand and kisses my palm, “you will regret it.”

“I won’t,” I disagree.

“We will never know that,” his tone is cold.

“I do though,” I insist.

Jake relents as he’s only laughing as the response over my stubborn answer. He then takes his flip phone and switch to me, “let me take you home.”

“How do you know it’s not raining anymore?” I raise my brows, still sitting on his lap.

“It didn’t rain anymore since I bought the food,” he says nonchalantly while putting his flip phone inside his jeans pocket. “I lied.”

I stand up from his lap as I take my purse from the table, I even forgot with the existence of my stuff. “You know you could just ask me to stay and I will do it,” I suggest.

He stands up from his seat too; the narrow gap among the couch, the table and our bodies makes me bumping into his chest as he is trying to balance himself. “I will put that in mind,” he pecks the back side of my head.

Just when I’m heading to the front door, I take a look on him but he is not behind me anymore. I notice the other room’s door is already open, probably it is his room. I quickly go there and try to peek inside, “Jake?”

“One moment,” I can hear his voice inside.

In the war between waiting outside and going inside, I choose the latter. I knock the door politely before going inside. The room is pretty dim with the light from the computer’s screen as the helper to see our surroundings. His room is pretty clean, not that I expected it will be like any boys’ usual room; rubbishes scattered everywhere, smoky smell, messy linen with pillows in the place that it shouldn’t be. But Jake’s room is neat and clean, and it doesn’t smell bad. It even smells like him. I wonder what kind of perfume he’s using.

“You know you will hurt your eyes if your room is this dark,” I observe every corner but my eyes are catching his computer’s screen interesting. As it shows few tabs with so many numbers or codes that you usually find in the hacking movie. That is too complex, thus it’s hard for me to understand the meaning of it.

“I know,” he chuckles. After finish doing whatever inside his computer and shut down his computer, he then walks to his bag and takes something out; it’s a hoodie. “Up,” he commands while finding the head hole in the hoodie. “Lift your arms up.”

I do as he says.

He then helps me to wear his hoodie. I can smell his scent on it. The hoodie is much bigger of course, considering he is taller than me. It feels like I’m drowning on it. He fixes it then takes a look on me wearing his hoodie, I have no idea why but it makes my heart pounding so hard. It’s either the fact that I’m wearing his hoodie right now and can smell his cologne, or how he stares on me makes me feeling all giddy inside.

“Free gift?” I tease him, thanking the room is not too bright for him to notice my cheeks that must be blushing really hard.

“Pretty much,” he says as he is holding my hand to walk out of his room. He then takes his own hoodie that he used when he went to buy the food, his cap, and his own mask. “We don’t want you to catch the cold, no?” he opens the front door and beckons me to walk out first.

As we walk to the parking lot where Jake’s motorcycle is being parked, I notice Athena is sitting on the dustbin far away from us while smoking. Jake doesn’t notice her like I do. At first, I didn’t think Athena is noticing us either, but it looks like she actually does. While her eyes are following every movement from us, especially when the motorcycle is leaving the building; I wonder what she’s thinking over me, maybe the ticking bomb which could disrupt the perfect equation they are planning.

I feel ticklish. It isn’t possible since my position doesn’t matter, I’m thinking too much. I should just focus on one thing that matter. I lean on Jake’s back as I glance on him from the rear-view mirror as the helmet I’ve been wearing makes me hard to take a good look at Jake. Half of his face is covered by the black mask and the black cap doesn’t help either. I wish I could see his face without any of those things sooner.

But just by being here near him knowing the fact that I can finally lie my eyes on his figure, feel his skin with my own hands, sensing his existence, managed to my heart’s feeling full by his presence.

#duskwood #duskwood everbyte #duskwood game #duskwood fandom #duskwood jake #duskwood family #duskwood mc #duskwood fanfiction

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davepetea · 8 months ago

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((just ranting abt writing fanfics you can ignore me lmao. I'm just in a weird place atm but I'm feeling kinda passionate abt writing rn so I'm gonna vent

originally I wrote a lil of this in the tags but then decided to just chuck it under a readmore so people aren't subjected to it against their will. then it got really long.

I'm not actually expecting anyone to read this im just sorta venting to myself. it helps me get my thoughts sorted if I write them down. I can also look back through my #.vat file tag in a few years from now and hopefully be like "wow I'm doing so much better than THAT now", so if that's the case, hi future Vatta! I hope you're having a good day. and if you're not future me, then I still hope you're having a good day, I love you, and this is your chance to turn back bc my rants are boring and LONG

(not turning back yet? ok. your funeral)

so, I haven't been online much bc I've just been in a weird limbo lately and I'm really busy when I'm at home either sorting stuff out or, with my PDA, doing anything I can to avoid my responsibilities lmao

I've been rereading my Tokyo ghoul light novels (I only have Void and Days ? I think they're called), rewatching Zankyou no Terror, and Bungou Stray Dogs (plus the live action Beast film which was? hilarious but I don't think it was supposed to be), and just suffering lmao

(you're still here? wow. you need a hobby. jk. ily)

I've been locked out of the systems at work for a bit, but I still need to be there and wait for the IT ticket to be sorted, so I've gotta be at my desk, cant have my phone or anything, so instead of sitting there doing nothing, I've either been reading, doing codeword puzzles, or I've been writing up 'drafts' for potential fanfics.

in this year of our sufferer 2024. I've been writing up some self indulgent homestuck college AU lmao. I've written over 60 sides of a5, (not inc the inbetween sections where I wrote some stuff on the chromebook at home) some notes, some accidental first draft, bc I wanted something to take up the time. but my handwriting is terrible, I don't write fast enough for my brain, I have a lil dyslexia so the letters and words get jumbled sometimes, and I have this weird thing where I don't do spaces right. but I've been trying to upload it to Google docs with Bixby's photo text extraction. it's pretty good considering how bad my writing is, then I just need to go through and touch it up, the main issues are things like names, there's some letters I do weird like my v turns into an r, or every p it thinks is a capital, but overall. amazing how technology do that.

(see my long ass rambling isn't just confined to venting. I also pretend to write actual things. you can still leave you know. I'm not holding you hostage until you read all this. you have free will)

can't remember how I ended up back in fanfic hell but I read back through like all my old published fics (aside from the cringe ones I orphaned) and the writing isn't terrible. I don't think I actually finished any of them though, which really shows my true nature lmao,,, but I've picked up a few things on my writing style now. and I've got a few things I see other people do that I wanna avoid bc I personally don't like it, and it's mostly about balance, like using names too often/not enough, being too descriptive like All The Time and making the writing really nice, but not much happens in the story so you take like an hour to read each scene, vs not enough description so everything is happening but you don't really get a visual or a breather to appreciate what's happened so far. I've been working on finding my right balance, which is imo easier if you're writing fanfic bc first up you hardly ever have to describe the characters. if someone's reading it they already know who they are. and for scenes you can take some inspo from the source material. does the original work put alot of effort into setting a cool scene? if not, then you don't have to either! if it's 90% scenery then you've gotta do it too I don't make the rules

I'm losing steam now I'm so sleepy and I've gotta go to work in a bit ugh.

(bet you're sleepy reading this too huh. told you it'd be boring)

I've been thinking about trying out writing some BSD fics but on an anonym not linked to my main Ao3, bc the themes are doozys and I kinda just wanna have the freedom of anonymity. also I'm a baby and if someone publicly criticises my stuff without it being a requested critique then it makes me bleh (I've had a few comments in the past of just general negatives, not even constructive feedback, not that I asked for any anyway...), but the abilities are tricky to write for, so it's effort lol

anyway I'm gonna stop now ive gotta get ready for work

(if you actually read this then thanks for going on this emotion deep dive with me. tune in next week when we'll get back to my usual mental breakdown)

#ooc post.#.vat file #genuinely I haven't been online on any blogs lately bc I'm doing. v bad. mental wise.#/rant off

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modulatechaos · 11 months ago

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Fanfiction Writer 20 Questions, got tagged by @moth--knight so here we are to do the things!.

How many works do you have on AO3?

122….so far.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

659,731

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I mainly write for: Fire Emblem Three Houses Bayonetta Genshin Impact Honkai: Star Rail

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

In The Half Light, I'll See You In Time A Consuming Mind A Story Ever Shifting You Didn't Plan To Get That Paperwork Done, Did You? Don't Mind Dying If You're My Killer

5.Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I TRY TO, but I'm often really bad about it and forget and then it's been a month. Or I'm right on top of it and I respond immediately, ADHD brain is a nightmare.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oh shit uh…..lmao. A lot of them? But probably angtiest is "I Think I'm Slipping Away."

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Any fic in my Edeleth Week 2019 collection? I don't write happy fics often….lmao.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not usually? I've gotten some vauge posty rudeish comments here and there but I just delete them or ignore them cuz I've got no time for anyone's negativity.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes. What Kind? The…smutty…kind?

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I wrote one, a Bloodborne x FE3H one. Usually I do not, cuz they're difficult to manage.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I've had ideas and pieces of fics stolen off me, sure, but I've never had a whole fic stolen that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! Into Japanese and another into German

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! With @ashtree11, we wrote several for Control and one for Genshin Impact. I love co-writing with friends cuz it's neat to see how our writing styles mesh!

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Uh. Edeleth….Bayojeanne. Others. I can't just choose one.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I will finish all my WIPS.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Introspection! World Building! I guess characterization???

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

DIALOGUE. (and actually sitting down to write.)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Hmm, this….one is complicated? Like I'd say consult a native speaker if you know one? Or if you have a friend who can speak multiple languages ask them? I usually tend to just avoid it personally beyond a very few occasions.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Oh god…I think it was Gundam Seed?? way back on Fanfiction.net

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

A Consuming Mind Your Soul Was Never Yours I'd Do Anything (Tell Me What To Say)

Uh as for people to tag??? @ashtree11 and anyone else who sees this and wants to do it.

#tag game #saint's writer brain

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liverobinreaction · 2 years ago

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🖊️, 🌈 (banshee in a well), 💻 ?

IM SORRY I KNOW THIS IS OVER A MONTH LATE, i lost the original ask post and it took me ages to find it BUT I FOUND IT so boom! late but here

ask game here

🌈 What inspired you to write banshee in a well?

basically, i had just been thrown head first into the batman fandom and was scouring through ao3 for things to read, before i kind of. ran out. this was during the weeks i was meant to be studying and writing an essay, and i was doing literally anything except that, so i had a lot of time on my hands. now, ive always been a sucker for fake character death and angst, so i decided hey, why not shove my newest blorbo tim into something like that! initially, it was going to be a one shot where tim was trapped in a collapsing building and was crushed to death, only to crawl his way out eventually while the bats were looking for his body. i wrote the beginning, and then when i looked back up i had 10k words and a completely different plot. and so banshee in a well was born.

💻 Do you do research for your fics? What’s the deepest dive you’ve done?

yes and no! i try to actively avoid writing stuff that requires a lot of technical knowledge because im a) lazy, and b) easily distractible. the moment i start researching when i want to write means i tend to fall down a wikipedia rabbit hole and end up with knowledge about 9th century chinese concubines. do not ask. BUT that doesnt mean i never do it, especially if im writing about a specific culture or religion. for example, i did some research into jewish funeral practices for banshee in a well, and read some articles by rabbis about whether you need to sit shiva for neglectful parents.

ive also been doing a bit of research into stomach cancer atm for 'and you know this will be gone in the morning'. i also absolutely got on a watch list while looking up other things for banshee, such as: how long does it take for blood to be deoxygenated, how do you get down from a noose, can you survive a ruptured lung.

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP.

here's a bit from my generational depression fic 'To Find Forgiveness In The Weeds' (cw: depression and suicidal thoughts). thanks for the ask!!!

There isn’t really any sort of final straw. Maybe it would be better if there was some kind of definitive moment that he could point to and say ‘there, that’s where it all started, that’s what made me this way’. He almost wishes there was a catalyst like that, because then it would be a lot easier to explain away most of it. But Tim’s life has never been straightforward, so instead, it goes like this:

At 8am in the morning on a Tuesday, as he’s getting ready for work, Tim looks into the mirror while adjusting his tie, and realises that he doesn’t want to be alive anymore.

A mental breakdown would be easier. This sort of quiet realisation doesn’t really give much way to screaming and crying, nor is there anything he can even do with it. Granted, he’s always thought of dying in some sort of manner, but he’s never bluntly admitted to himself that he’d prefer to be dead. Most of the time, it shows up in an abstract, distant way. The temptation of a high rooftop, the ease of a subway track, the simplicity of a rope. Sometimes he’ll see death traps and feel a pull towards it. Not an active wish, so much as a temptation. A soft, gentle thought of ‘I’m tired. Wouldn’t it be nice to be dead?’

But it’s always been chased away, the logistics of actually dying and their impact keeping him away from ledges and chairs. The clean-up would be such a hassle, his brain would point out, and he’d agree. Someone would have to scrape him off the floor or tracks if he was selfish enough to do it in public, and that’s not even mentioning the traumatised passer-by’s. Ultimately, killing himself would cause more trouble than it’s worth, and that’s always been enough for him to ignore those thoughts and chalk them up to a flight of fancy or a call to the void rather than genuine suicidal ideation.

There’s none of that when he looks in the mirror and consciously acknowledges that maybe, just maybe, Tim doesn’t really want to live anymore. That, if given the chance, he can’t confidently say he wouldn’t take such an opportunity.

It’s a strange thought to have, and he finally lets his hands drop away from his tie as he observes himself. He’s seen suicidal people before, of course, both as Tim Drake and Robin and Red Robin. He watched as Bruce threw himself into deadlier and deadlier fights, uncaring of the consequences. He’s gently talked to people shivering on the edge of a skyscraper, eyes screaming for help despite their hollowness.

He doesn’t really fit that image, though logically, he knows that depression takes different forms. And that’s another thought that stops him and makes him furrow his brow. Is he depressed? Depression tends to cause suicidal ideation, so it would make sense, but once again, he’s never needed a therapist or broken down in tears from sadness.

He takes a few steps back to perch on his unmade bed. Messiness is a sign of depression, he remembers, but he’s always been messy. His father was the same way.

Except...

He glances around his room, frowning at the overflowing waste basket, the crumpled up cans and balled up protein wrappers. Clothes are haphazardly dumped into a corner, because he rarely has the energy to put them away. There’s dust everywhere except his bed, bathroom and desk, and kitchen roll still sticks to a spot on the carpet where he spilled some soda and forgot to clean it up.

It isn’t exactly the expected luxury penthouse of a CEO.

His room in Wayne Manor had been untidy, but it was the general clutter of a distracted teenager. He would still throw trash away, would dust and mop up spills when needed, because Alfred had enough on his plate already and tidying their rooms had always been their own responsibility.

His apartment, however, is messy in a way that indicates he’s stopped caring.

The thought is quiet in his mind, but it’s enough to stop everything else.

Has he?

Has he stopped caring?

#long post #bug replies #ask #anonymous #ask game #my writing #to find forgiveness in the weeds #banshee in a well #tw suicide

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sarah-aliterarylife · 1 year ago

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5 Quick Reads

For our most recent public holiday in the UK, I wrote about my favourite doorstep novels (big books to get stuck into and take your time over).

Today, we’re going in a different direction, and I’ll be talking about some of my favourite quick reads.

We all live busy lives, and much as I love a big book, occasionally I crave the opposite: a short book I can read in a single weekend (or over 24 hours, if I’m on leave from work).

Here are five of my favourites:

Animal Farm by George Orwell (144 pages)

Ignore anyone who laughs at you when you tell them you’re reading this (which happened to me one day at work – it is possible the man in question thought I was talking about something else!).

Subtitled “A Fairy Story” this is actually anything but. A novella about the downtrodden animals of Manor Farm, who overthrow their human master Mr Jones and take over the running of the farm themselves, it’s a satire about totalitarian regimes (specifically Communism) and what happens when idealism is replaced by corruption and greed.

Granted, communism isn’t the most cheerful subject to acquaint yourself with on a sunny weekend, but Animal Farm is entertaining, powerful and terrifying in equal measure.

Shopgirl by Steve Martin (220 pages)

Yes, that Steve Martin. He writes books too!

I read this last year as part of a reading list. The prompt was “an author with the same initials as you”. I’m not the biggest Steve Martin fan, but I enjoyed the film version with Claire Danes and the author himself as her love interest, and so, over 3 long nights during the 2022 World Cup, I gave it a shot.

Shopgirl is a fun read, telling the story of Mirabelle, a lonely, adrift shop assistant who works in an LA department store. Mirabelle is pursued by two suitors: the older, emotionally unavailable millionaire Ray, and penniless, equally adrift Jeremy. It’s dark, funny and just a bit cool. I loved it.

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald (180 pages)

You didn’t expect me to write a list of quick reads without including The Great Gatsby, did you?

The quintessential novel of the Jazz Age, The Great Gatsby is one of the few novels that both myself and my sister thoroughly enjoyed. The tale of the fabulously wealthy Jay Gatsby and his doomed romance with the socialite Daisy Buchanan, told by Gatsby’s acquaintance Nick Carraway, there is a reason this one regularly makes an appearance on lists of the greatest novels ever written.

It’s very readable, it’s concise, and it doesn’t meander. The characters are flawed but likeable, and most importantly they are relatable.

If you’ve never had the pleasure of making Jay Gatsby’s acquaintance, sit down this week and do so immediately. You won’t want to leave.

Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson (104 pages)

One for a dark, cold, rainy night. I was gifted this book as a student, as part of a bound boxset of mystery and horror novels. It was part of a larger collection of short stories by Robert Louis Stevenson. Many people know what a “Jekyll and Hyde character” is, think they know the plot and hence avoid the book. Don’t be that person.

It reads like a mystery thriller, so if you’re not into horror novels (like me), there is still much here for you to enjoy.

Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde is very much the perfect short story, an absolutely riveting thriller. The plot races along at a breakneck pace (Stevenson himself wrote the original draft in less than three days), and if you’re anything like me, you’ll wish by the end that you didn’t already know what was coming!

Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys (192 pages)

One night, in the days before Netflix and Disney Plus, I was bored. I was in search of something to watch on TV and began channel hopping, when I came across a film called Wide Sargasso Sea. I had missed the first few minutes, but something about it grabbed me instantly. I was riveted and didn’t move from my seat until the film was finished. I’ve never seen it shown on any television channel or streaming service from that day to this. Having searched fruitlessly for months to find a copy of the film (these were the dark days when such things were not instantly available), I decided instead to read the novel on which it was based.

A prequel to Jane Eyre, Wide Sargasso Sea is the story of Antoinette Cosway, a white heiress living in Jamaica, who meets and marries the young Mr Rochester. It is essentially the story of how their marriage disintegrates and she becomes the Madwoman in the Attic of Charlotte Bronte’s novel.

I later donated Wide Sargasso Sea to a book swap shop in Tenerife, in the hope that someone else would discover it and love it as much as I did. And perhaps one day the BBC will decide to show the film again!

What are your favourite quick reads?

#quick reads #book blogs #classic novels #books and literature #books and reading #book addict #literature #bookshelf

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ckygetsjobs · 2 years ago

Text

This sucks

Dico x Male Reader

A/n: like I said before male readers are my fav to write. But I don’t write them often. So anyway so fucking self indulgent I haven’t wrote a male x reader dico fic in so long it’s about time. Not really any warnings for this one. Enjoy.

You weren’t one for cameras, hated it actually. Nobody would find you in front of the camera or in pictures if you had anything to say about it. They did call you weird for it, like why you show up to set and disappear into the shadows as soon as they started filming. Sometimes you ended up in frame anyways, either because Dico tricked you into it or because you underestimated how far the camera range was. You cheered Brandon on constantly, he was the reason you were there anyways. He always asked you if you wanted to carpool which really was just hopping in the passenger seat of his truck, not that you were going to complain. A lot of the time you’d laugh at him at how frustrated he got over other people’s driving, you still remember when he showed up to your house to pick you up one day and he was practically seething.

Today was a usual day of filming, which consisted of you avoiding it. You lied down on the couch, flipping through a playboy magazine, cracking up at all the pictures of semi naked chicks, they always had ridiculous poses. You just looked at it for laughs, you weren’t one for the magazines except to crack up at them. You showed the funnier ones to Brandon sometimes and now it was a competition weekly who found the funnier one, he won every time of course. When you were doing that though, you must have fell asleep because the next thing you knew you heard a loud horn right in your hear and tons of heavy laughter. “Fucking assholes,” you grumbled half asleep and pissed off, Dico better hope he was going to do something to make it up to you. He knew how much you hated loud noises, and you were for sure going to get him back, you already had an absolutely awful idea that was going to knock his socks off. Dico was sitting next to you, his hand clutching your thigh, trying to hide it from the others. He was good at it too, he had a ton of practice with how much he sneaked around with you. They would sometimes find you guys fucking in a closet or something else that was just crazy but it wasn’t that much. You fucking hated being interrupted, and they would laugh their asses off for weeks, plus it would be on film, and you bet your ass it was ending up in the next CKY.

As you were giving him an angry glare, he just shrugged his shoulders. You just stood up from the couch, walking off the set, wondering in the back of your mind if he was going to follow you or make you wait for him to be done in his truck. The answer was quick and apparent as he chased after you, shouting your name and to wait up. You didn’t, if anything you ran faster until you were comfortably in his truck waiting on him. When he got in he quietly turned on the music and pushed his seat further back. “How about I make it up to you. We can take a shopping trip to Kmart,” he winked, all you did was cross your arms, the opposite of impressed. “You’re a dick, you know I hate shopping. But fine, you better fuck me good tonight though.” He ran his hand through his hair, grabbing your hand and kissing it, “Come on when have I let you down,” you raised your eyebrow and didn’t answer his question, wanting him to come up with another remark that was sure to make him sound ridiculous. He didn’t though, he had learned by now, he knew how you operated, you spent tons of time together when you weren’t purposely ignoring his phone calls. When you did he had to show up to your house and he usually blew you after he told you whatever he came over for. But he wasn’t fooling anybody, you knew he loved when he had to come over, that’s one of the reasons you did it.

The shopping trip was boring and uneventful, you even yawned a few times. He dragged you along, having ahold of your arm the entire time, pointing to cool dressed action figures. Not to say you weren’t interested in action figures though, you loved them a lot, you just hated the store atmosphere, it was too much to handle. Especially after all the stuff you already had to deal with today. You didn’t blame Brandon for taking you there, you loved when he was happy, and he definitely was. So you bore through it for his sake, and it proved worth it. After a while he found the He-man and the Masters of the Universe collection, holding two skeletor’s in his hand, smiling and swinging your hand that was in his, “I know he’s your favorite, he’s mine too, so I’m getting two,” he threw them in the cart. He stared at you for a while, “Thanks for coming, I love shopping even more when it’s with you. But I know you want to leave so let’s go to the checkout,” he mentions, holding onto your hand tightly. When checkout was done he put everything into the truck, and you both got in afterwards. As you sat in the car, talking, it went further as he kissed your lips, softly and with so much love you melted into his arms, “I had fun,” he said into your mouth, you just nodded “me too,” while fully enveloped in him. You’d go shopping with him again of course, maybe even tomorrow, who really knew with him. But going with Brandon, the action that you got after was so worth it, you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

#I needed representation #For my fellow guys #So rare for male reader shit #Anyway I hate shopping but for him? I would in a heartbeat #jackass #viva la bam #cky #brandon dicamillo #dico

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mypoisonedvine · 2 years ago

Note

80, 86, and 102 for Eddie munson please?? :)

80. “i’m not wearing any underwear. thought you’d like to know.”

86. “don’t be shy now, sit on my face.”

102 “don’t cover your face, i want to see you”

warnings: smut (18+ only, oral f receiving, unprotected penetrative sex), enemies to lovers (or, enemies that are also lovers, aka hatefucking), cheating (reader is dating someone else), bullying, angst, mild violence (a punch)

word count: 4.8k

You couldn't even focus in class with him sitting behind you. You knew he was going to do something to bother you, distract you, irritate you-- anything to get your attention and get on your nerves. Yeah, that was why you couldn't focus. Not because you couldn't stop wondering if he was looking at you, or if your hair looked good in case he was looking at you, or because just the smell of him drove you crazy. No, it wasn't any of that; it was because you were anticipating that he was going to do something to bug you. He always did.

"Psst, hey," he hissed under his breath when the teacher turned her back. You ignored him at first, simply rolling your eyes, but he kept leaning out of his chair and if she turned around now, you'd both get in trouble.

"What?" you returned in a harsh whisper.

"Are you okay?"

You wrinkled your eyebrows together. What was he doing asking you something like that? You looked at him, something you'd been avoiding, and god he had such a punchable face. And grabbable hair. And kissable lips, and--

"Seriously, are you okay?" he insisted. "How are you not in horrible pain right now?"

"Huh?" you frowned. "Why would I be in horrible pain?"

"Cause sitting like that must be pretty uncomfortable-- with the stick up your ass and all," he smirked.

His friend sitting behind him snorted out a laugh, and you rolled your eyes so hard it made your vision blurry for a second. "Jeez, Ed, have you been saving that one for a special occasion? It's so creative. Maybe you should put that genius writing skill into your essay so you can finally pass this painfully easy class."

"Maybe you should work on your essay," he returned, "if you're willing to take a break from writing Mrs. Michael Robinson all over your notebook with hearts over the 'i's."

You shook your head and looked down at your book again, hoping to at least appear like you were paying attention. Eddie hated you because he hated your boyfriend. Well, he hated you independently, too, because you and your boyfriend actually got along-- he couldn't stand that you were popular and happy and that Michael was on the basketball team.

"You're just jealous," you insisted, like you had a thousand times.

"What, of your snobby boyfriend?" Eddie dismissed with an eyeroll of his own.

"No," you grinned proudly. "Of the stick up my ass."

His smile faltered for a second; busted.

"Mister Munson!" Ms. O'Donnell snapped, making both of you look up at her. Of course, you'd been sitting quietly in your seat when she turned around, but Eddie had been leaning halfway out of his to whisper to you. You fought down a smile as she glared at him. "Do I need to remind you again not to bother your other classmates?"

"S-Sorry, ma'am," he mumbled. "I was just--"

"You can tell your story in detention," she sneered, "because I'm not interested in it."

Eddie shot you a glare just before he stood up from his chair. You gave him a little smile and playful wave as he started to gather his things.

Impulsively, you tore a strip of paper out of your notebook and wrote on it quickly. As he started to leave, you slipped the paper in his pocket; he gave you a look with a raised eyebrow. "A little reading material for detention," you explained softly.

He shrugged and threw his backpack on over his shoulder, heading for the front of the classroom and disappearing out the door.

Finally, some peace and quiet. Unfortunately, now you had no excuse to goof off in this class...

You were at your locker, checking your lip gloss in the mirror inside the door, when Eddie appeared behind you in the reflection-- he was shooting daggers at you with his eyes, and you smiled proudly as you turned to face him.

"Hey, freak," you greeted, tilting your head and crossing your arms. "How was detention?"

"You think this is funny?" he snarled as he pulled the crumpled up slip of paper from his pocket; he unfurled it and held it right up to your face, where you saw your writing right in front of you.

I'm not wearing any panties... just thought you'd like to know. With the 'i's dotted with hearts, naturally.

You snatched the paper from his hand with a frown. "Someone might see," you warned.

"Yeah, wanna bet?" he scoffed, his lip twitching for a second with visible rage. Oh god, he looked so sexy like this; you loved making him angry. It didn't help that it was so goddamn easy. "Are you..." he lowered his voice, looking around before leaning in to make sure no one nearby could hear, "are you really not wearing any...?"

You shrugged. "Wouldn't you like to know..."

"Oh, c'mon, baby--" he choked, and you felt your heart pound because he'd never called you that at school before... all your confidence fell in a moment, and you felt your eyes flutter as you reached up to rub the back of your neck shyly.

Just then, Michael appeared beside you, draping his arm over your shoulders. You straightened up, trying to compose yourself, as did Eddie. "Hey, it's the freak bothering my girlfriend again," Michael observed. "Could you just leave her alone? She doesn't want anything to do with you, man."

"What trouble is it if she and I wanna have a conversation, huh?" Eddie challenged. "What's the harm in that? We're grown, we can talk-- doesn't seem like it's any of your business."

"It's my business because you're creeping on my girl," Michael explained. "She told me you make her uncomfortable, won't leave her alone, trying to make a move when she told you she's not interested--"

Eddie looked at you for a second, and you looked away; you couldn't take it, the hurt in his expression. "Did you tell him that?" Eddie asked you, genuinely. You were going to speak up for yourself, say that you did say that but try to mitigate it, but Michael spoke first.

"Yeah, and you know what else?" he continued. "She told me your little club is actually a bunch of devil-worshippers. So, I don't want you around her, trying to curse her or-- or trick her into doing some freaky shit with your demonic spells or whatever."

Eddie swallowed, looking at you angrily one more time before returning to staring down your boyfriend. "You know what, Robinson? You don't have to worry about me talking to your girl. I wouldn't touch her with a ten-foot pole."

"I promise, the feeling's mutual," Michael shot back as Eddie turned on his heel and walked away. You felt guilt curl in your gut, but as much as you wanted to chase after him and apologize, Michael was already tightening his grip on your shoulder. "Hopefully that guy leaves you alone for good this time," he said.

"Yeah..." you sighed. "Let's hope so."

You waited, sitting on the wooden table with your feet on the bench, bouncing your knee anxiously. It was getting pretty dark, and cold, and your little cardigan wasn't doing much for you anymore. You kept glancing around the treeline, but you'd already given up; you knew he wasn't coming. You and Eddie usually met here, somewhere that no one would see the two of you together, but after how hard you'd burned him today, you were pretty sure he'd never--

"Hey," you heard a voice from the other side of the table, and you whipped around to see Eddie there, pushing his hair back with one of his hands.

"Oh," you jumped, "uh-- I didn't think you were coming."

"You know I can't stay away very long," he chuckled thinly, a sadness to his tone. "Even when you really, really piss me off..."

"Listen, what Michael said before--" you began.

"No, hey, don't sweat it," he shrugged, hopping up over the table to sit beside you. "Say whatever you need to to keep him off our scent, I guess. I mean, it's working-- everybody at school knows you wouldn't be caught dead with me."

You glanced away again, shivering with guilt-- well, it was sort of from the cold night air, too, but mainly it was guilt.

"Need me to warm you up?" he purred, wrapping an arm around you and leaning into kiss your neck. It was simple enough, but it worked; you relaxed into him right away, sighing as you felt his warm breath and wet tongue tease your skin.

"Eddie," you whimpered. "Don't tease me too much-- been waiting too long for this..."

"Mm, but that's not very fair, is it?" he noticed. "Not after you teased me today. That little note of yours had me fighting off a boner the rest of the day. I wasn't allowed to leave detention long enough to jerk off in the bathroom or anything."

You chuckled proudly, imagining Eddie trying to hide a massive bulge in his jeans while waiting in the principal's office. God, that was actually pretty hot...

"Is it true?" he asked, quieter. "Are you not wearing panties?"

You giggled and nodded, hearing him groan lowly as he put his hand on your leg, moving up higher under your skirt. You both moaned a little when his fingers met your pussy, already hot and soaking for him.

"Fuck, baby," he purred. "Does your boyfriend know?"

You shook your head, and he growled, leaning back onto the creaky wooden table and pulling you on top of him. "It was just for you, Eddie," you smiled, loving the way he bared his teeth when you said it. "Plus, they're pretty hard to put on, considering the stick in my ass."

He snorted a laugh.

"I mean, that was weak, dude, even for you," you scolded.

"Okay, okay!" he raised his shoulders defensively. "So I'm not as good at being mean as you are. But you know what I am good at?"

He pulled you down into him and kissed you passionately, slipping his tongue into your mouth right away; and you let him, because you couldn't help yourself. He was a really good kisser, he made your body melt with just the slightest brush of his lips on yours, he made your knees weak and your pussy drip. Worst part of all was that he knew all of that, and used it against you constantly.

"Gettin' needy, baby?" he whispered into the kiss, and you realized that you'd been moaning into his mouth without even meaning to. You nodded, and you felt him smile against you. "Well, come on, then-- don't be shy now, get up here and sit on my face."

You weren't very shy with Eddie, that's for sure; you were shameless. He made you feel too good to act innocent or coy at this point.

Breaking the kiss and sitting up, you climbed over him until your hips hovered over his face. You couldn't see his face well with your skirt in the way, but you heard him growl just before he grabbed your hips and pulled you down right onto his mouth.

Instantly, you moaned; his tongue lapped at you roughly, just the right mix of pressure to get your hips rocking right away. With a tight grip on your thighs-- tight enough to leave bruises you were going to have to explain somehow to Michael later-- he kept you from moving too much so he could taste you exactly how he wanted.

"Eddie, fuck," you groaned, reaching down to grab onto his hair. He circled around his tongue around your clit a few times before finally sucking on it, and you struggled not to sob out loud.

This was the only time he wasn't talkative; he normally liked to say all kinds of shit, but with his mouth full, all you heard were his little moans here and there, his heavy breathing through his nose, and the filthy slurping sounds he made as he sucked on your clit and thrust his tongue inside you.

"F-fuck, yes," you whimpered, letting your head fall back. "Yes, Eddie, just like that-- oh god--"

You could feel him smiling. Smug bastard. Say what you will about Eddie Munson, but when the man heard just like that, he knew how to keep doing exactly that to push you closer to the edge as fast as possible. Of course, knowing that he could do what he was told only made it more frustrating when he didn't.

"Fuck, please, please," you begged when he returned to his slow exploration of your folds. "I told you not to tease me, Ed, please? Please-- just wanna come..."

"Mhm?" he mumbled, sort of the only thing he could say while he was down there.

"Please!" you shouted again. "C'mon, Eddie, you know how bad I need you... I-I need you to make me come. I'm sorry for all that stuff I said, I just-- I was afraid he'd figure it out. I was afraid that he could see it all over my face, how much I--"

How much I love you.

"How much I think about you," you blurted out instead. "I swear, Ed, I never stop thinking about it-- and I'm so close already, all cause'a you, c'mon, please? Please just let me come..."

Feeling him smile again, he moved his hands up to grab your waist and returned to his faster pace, doing exactly what you needed him to to send you speeding towards the precipice of pleasure.

"Ohhhh fuck, thank you," you sobbed, "thank you, hng I'm gonna come-- you're gonna make me come, Eddie, fuck-- fuck!"

You tightened your fists in his mess of hair, your insides clenching tight on his tongue as the first wave of ecstasy hit you; you made a high-pitched noise, nearly a scream, and threw your head back. Your hips wanted to rock on his face more than anything, but his strong hands held you still and forced you to take everything head-on. Literally, since he was giving you head.

"Yes, yes!" you whimpered, toes curling inside your sneakers; it became too much all at once, and you bucked wildly as your body lost control. He finally stopped, moving your hips back, and his face popped out from under your skirt with a wide, glistening grin.

"God, you're too easy, baby," he sighed. "I was gonna tease you longer, really draw it out, but you just begged so sweet for me... like I said, I'm not very good at being mean."

"Want me to return the favor?" you offered, even though he wouldn't come quite as quickly as you did-- well, maybe he would, if he'd actually been hard since third period.

"No, fuck no," he breathed, shaking his head, and you wrinkled your eyebrows together. "No, baby, not now-- I need to be inside you."

In an instant, he'd grabbed you and flipped you onto your back, hovering over you as he made quick work of his belt. "Did you bring a condom?" you asked.

"No," he answered quickly, already pulling his cock out and pressing it up to your hole; he knew you weren't going to make him wear one, not after a few weeks ago when he begged you to let him put it in raw, 'just for a second, babe, I swear', only for both of you to become addicted to the feeling and end up totally unable to stop. Of course it was better for him, but you were surprised at how different it felt for you-- at how much your body craved to feel him with nothing in the way.

You still used condoms with your boyfriend; he didn't even know you'd gotten on the pill. You figured that was part of the appeal for Eddie, too, knowing he was the only one who got to feel you like this.

A moan caught in your throat as Eddie slipped inside you; even with how wet you were, it was still a bit of a stretch to take him. He always gave you a few seconds to adjust, but never quite long enough-- because he liked watching you struggle for a second. "Fuck," he breathed, "I almost forgot... how perfect you feel. Jesus..."

"Fuck me," you begged, "please."

He certainly didn't need to be told twice, and in a moment he was thrusting into you fast and desperately. "Oh, baby," he praised, leaning down over you and letting his head hang limp by your shoulder, "this is all I was thinking about in detention. Thinking about you spreading your legs for me... thinking about fucking your pretty hole open. Thinking about-- fuck, uh-- thinking about coming inside you."

You gasped, holding onto his shoulders as he fucked you a little faster. You two hadn't actually done that yet, he'd always pulled out-- just to be safe, he said, even with the pill and everything. Apparently, safety was less important now; and you weren't going to stop him, not when just the thought of it made you so wet that you started to drip down and stain this poor abandoned picnic table in the woods.

"I want you to," you admitted. "I... I wanna feel your come in me."

"Fuck, really, baby?" he grinned, watching you nod. "God, that's so sexy-- I will, then. I'll come inside and let you feel it all."

You whined and arched your back, everything so much more sensitive after he'd already made you come.

"I-- I don't think I'll last too long," he admitted in a whisper. "You feel too good..."

You smiled to yourself. "I don't care-- just come, Eddie, I want you to come, please..."

"Oh god," he gasped, fucking you faster and faster, "keep talking."

"Y-you fuck me so good, Ed," you whimpered, "you e-eat my pussy so good... nobody's ever fucked me like you do, you're the best-- you know that, right? The best I've ever had, nobody else has ever made me come like you do--"

"Shit," he hissed, "m'gonna come-- fuck, I'm gonna come inside you, baby, I'm gonna come so deep in your pussy, oh my god--"

"Yes, yes," you encouraged, entangling your legs with his so he couldn't pull out even if he wanted to. "Yes, Eddie, right there!"

"Ohhhh fuck!" he shouted, slowing his pace suddenly as you felt his cock flex inside you. You moaned at the feeling-- warm and shockingly gentle, every pulse of his cock stretching your walls that much more. You didn't know it would feel like this... now you were never gonna let him pull out again.

Going limp, your legs released his hips and he slowly pulled out; it was dark out now, but with his eyes adjusted to it, he could lift up your skirt and get a pretty good view of his come starting to leak from your hole.

"Wow," he whispered, and you shut your legs to hide from the awkward exposed feeling; your face was warm from him looking at you like that, and you covered it, too, with your hands. "Aw, don't do that," he cooed, reaching up to pull gently on your wrists, "don't cover your face, I wanna see you."

"You know what I look like," you dismissed, glancing away to run from his penetrative stare.

"Yeah, but you look prettiest like this," he grinned, "right after I fuck you good-- best you ever had, huh?"

Biting your lip, you nodded shyly, and he smiled even wider.

"Shit, you give out medals for that or something, certificates of achievement? 'Cause I want that in writing, best you ever had," he said wistfully. "Oh, does Mikey Robinson think he's your best? Poor guy."

He was just joking, but it hit you where it hurt and you felt your smile fall, suddenly shoving him away so you could sit up and look out into the trees-- away from him. You were so sick of feeling guilty for all of this-- guilty for how you treated Eddie when Michael was around, guilty for how you treated Michael by going behind his back with Eddie. Couldn't you just be happy with one of them, at least? But no, they were always talking about the other. That Munson freak gets on my nerves, Michael would rant to you, you let me know if he ever bothers you, okay? I know you just think he's annoying but, I dunno, a guy like that could really be dangerous. I mean, he's a criminal-- and a Satanist! And then with Eddie, who was supposed to be your escape, he had to go out and say shit like that, like he wanted to shame you for what you were doing even though he was the one you were doing it with!

"I-- I should go," you decided, hopping up off the table.

"Wha-- already?" Eddie questioned, following you once he'd put his dick back into his jeans and zipped them up. "What about pillow talk?"

"There aren't any pillows here," you noticed, starting to walk back to the school so you could get in your car and go home and take a shower and forget about all this-- until tomorrow when you were coming back for it again. God, you hated yourself in moments like this...

"Okay, we can go to my place, there are pillows there," he offered.

"Eddie, seriously," you rolled your eyes, turning around to look at him again. "You know we can't do that. You know that's not what this is."

He paused for a second, just long enough for you to spin back again and keep heading for the tree line. "Let me drive you home," he insisted.

"We can't be seen together," you reminded him, still walking away.

"Well, where the fuck are you gonna go," he shouted, "with my come running down your thighs, huh? You gonna go back to your shitstain boyfriend?"

"Don't call him that!" you yelled back, stopping but not turning around. "He's not perfect, okay? But he's not a bad person-- he's not a bad boyfriend. And he doesn't deserve any of this!"

"Not a bad boyfriend?" Eddie repeated incredulously. "Has he ever made you come like I do? If you and him had to sneak around to be together, like we do, do you think he'd do it? Or would he just go for any of the other girls that go fucking mental for a guy on the basketball team?"

"Shut up," you scoffed, facing him this time, and noticing that he was standing closer to you than you realized, "you don't know anything about him."

"I know he's not good enough for you," he replied, crossing his arms.

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Because here you are!" he shouted, throwing his hands up for a second before letting them fall down to his sides with a clap on his jeans. "With me! In the fucking woods! You should be with somebody who you love enough to just be with. Exclusively. No secrets, no hiding."

"W-well, I do love him," you assured, frowning when Eddie began to laugh.

"God, you don't even know what love is, do you?" he realized. "You're just a kid, how could you know?"

"Fuck off," you spat, "I'm not that much younger than you-- I'm eighteen and everything."

"Yeah, but you don't know shit about anything, you know that?" he sneered. "I guess those nasty rumors about you are true after all. You're really just a stupid slut."

It wasn't until you felt the pain in your fist that you realized you'd punched him, square on the jaw, hard enough to knock him off balance.

"Fuck!" he yelped.

"And I guess you're just a freak," you shot back, shaking your head as you left for your car-- for the last time.

As you walked, you felt tears welling in your eyes; you wiped them away before they fell, because then you weren't really crying over Eddie Munson... your eyes were just watering. Allergies; all this pollen out here in the forest, that's it. Not that the guy you were in love with still hated you-- as he should. Not that you trusted him and he said all that shit to you, and deep down, you believed him. No, it wasn't any of that; just the pollen.

"Wait," he called after you, but you didn't stop. "Wait, damn it!"

In a moment, he caught up to you, and as he spun you around to face him, you hated that he was seeing you cry.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, "I swear, I didn't mean any of that. Well, I didn't mean the stuff about you-- I pretty much meant the stuff about him."

You tried not to laugh, but you did, even through the tears.

"Aw, see?" he cooed, "there's that smile. I love when you laugh... it's the best thing in the world. Even better than when you come-- I mean, it's close, but... that's what I miss most, when you're with him. And yeah, it makes my blood boil to imagine him touching you, holding you, loving you-- but really, what I can't stand is knowing he gets to make you laugh, and smile, and he can kiss your cheek and hug you and--"

"Eddie," you breathed, your head sinking a bit, "he doesn't make me laugh."

"No, I've seen it--" he interjected.

"It's fake, okay?" you groaned. "I have to pretend to think he's funny, 'cause he's my boyfriend, but he's so not. We used to have fun, a long time ago, but I can barely remember what that was like..."

"Wow," Eddie smirked, "so you really have to fake everything with this guy, huh..."

You snorted out another laugh, and he laughed with you. "Could you stop making me laugh? I was really busy crying over here..."

"Sorry, sorry," he soothed with a smile, pausing for a second before speaking up again. "Come on, baby, why are you with this guy? Really?"

You chewed the inside of your cheek before sighing. "Honestly, I don't know... I just wanna be with you..."

It took all the courage in your body to say it, but you did, and you shut your eyes as you felt him kiss your forehead. "I wanna be with you too," he replied. "I don't think anything else matters but that."

You started to cry again-- much more bittersweet than it was before-- and he lifted your face with his hands and wiped your tears away.

"You hear me?" he insisted. "Nothing else matters, okay? Not what any of them think, not if your parents approve of me, not if I'm just a loser and you're gorgeous and popular--"

"You're not a loser, Ed," you promised.

"You know what's crazy?" he smiled. "I don't feel like a loser. When I'm with you, I mean. And then you go back to him and I feel like complete shit, but-- really, when we're together--"

He stepped closer, pressing his body up to yours, and you took a shaky breath.

"When we're making love," he whispered, "or-- or just talking, or not even that, just laying there not saying anything at all... I don't feel like a loser anymore. I'd rather be with you than be President or be a superhero or a rockstar..."

His tone got a little more serious before he continued.

"Even if you can't break up with him, I'd rather be with you."

You sighed again, hating that he would stoop so low for you. Then again, you'd stooped pretty low for him. "I can't do that to either of you anymore," you breathed. "It's not right, it's not fair to any of us... I..."

Your body was fighting not to say it, terrified of the consequences, but your heart had been screaming it non-stop for weeks.

"I love you," you whispered.

He sighed and dropped his head down, pressing his forehead against yours as he kept holding your face. "God..." he breathed. "Say it again."

"I love you," you repeated.

He kissed you hard, rough, suddenly; you whimpered into it, throwing your arms around his shoulders, and he started to stumblingly guide you backwards. "One more time," he demanded.

"I love you, I love you," you chanted, until he cut you off with another kiss.

"I love you more," he finally replied, and nothing could stop you from breaking into a beaming smile in that moment.

"You love me more than I love you?" you wondered.

"No-- I love you more than anything," he explained, and you felt your back press against the wooden table again.

"Eddie!" you giggled. "I've gotta go-- I have to tell Michael it's over--"

"It can wait," he insisted, "I've finally got you and I'm not letting you go so easy... I need to feel you again."

"But we just--!"

He kissed you, laying you back on the table and gently pressing his weight into you. Instinctively, you moaned softly and opened your legs for him, and you felt him smile. "That's what I thought," he winked.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #ONCE AGAIN i went off for NO REASON

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messers-moony · 3 years ago

Text

Secret Boyfriend | R.B

Paring: Regulus Black X Lupin!Fem!Reader

Summary: Keeping secrets seem to run in the Lupin family but one of the two twins has a bigger secret than the other can imagine.

Pitter-patter could be heard inside the Gryffindor Common room. The Scotland weather never really seemed to make up its mind during the period between winter and spring. Nevertheless, it brought a calming atmosphere to the red and gold common room. The five Marauders sat in front of the fireplace, speaking to one another. Remus, Y/n, and Sirius sitting together on a couch. James on an armchair, and Peter sitting on the ground in front of the sofa.

“So, Little Lupin.“ James drawled, “When are you getting a boyfriend?”

Remus chuckled, quickly putting an arm around his twin sister, “Hopefully, never.”

“Maybe I already have a boyfriend, and you lot just don’t know.” Y/n snipped as she elbowed her brother in the ribs slightly, “Oh, come on, paws!” James exclaimed teasingly.

Paws was Y/n’s Marauder name. Her animagus was a Siamese cat, which resembled her personality quite well if you asked Remus. Y/n was quick-witted, independent, intuitive, curious, and affectionate when comfortable. She and Sirius were known to flirt all the time but recently - meaning a couple of months - they hadn’t done it at all. Perhaps Y/n was actually avoiding his flirtatious remarks. Nevertheless, Y/n’s animagus was a direct correlation with her personality.

“Yeah, paws, you’ve been neglecting me recently. I’m not too happy with it either.” Sirius added with a fake pout, “Oh hush it, you two. Leave my sister alone. She’s got no hidden boyfriend.” Remus defended, looking at his sister.

“Right, Y/n?” Remus coughed, and she jumped out of her daydream, “Mhm! Of course.”

Conversation went on as usual. They began discussing new pranks, but Y/n’s jumper pocket felt heavier than usual, knowing what’s inside. It was a cream-colored envelope with the Black family crest as a seal. Y/n knew more than anyone that Sirius wouldn’t be happy to see the familiar logo, but this wasn’t from his parents. It was from his little brother, and Y/n was anxious to give it to him. So when James, Remus, and Peter went upstairs, Y/n pulled him aside before he could leave.

“Padfoot, wait.” Y/n called, and he turned back, “What's up, paws?” Sirius queried, turning to face her.

She sighed and pulled the envelope from her pocket, “Please, read this. It isn’t what you think it is despite the seal.” Y/n stated, handing him the parchment.

“Where did you get this?” Sirius asked as he opened the packaging, “Regulus.” Y/n’s answer was firmer than expected.

Nonetheless, the letter inside seemed essential to his fellow Marauder, so he opened it. Inside he was met with his little brother's prominent handwriting. The black ink treaded so seamlessly across the brown paper. Y/n remembered watching him write it at his desk, desperately trying to collect his thoughts while his hand shook relentlessly. She couldn’t do anything but sit from his bed and watch. Regulus needed to do this alone.

After reading, Sirius slid the letter back inside its packaging, “Well, it’s his fault.”

“Actually, it isn’t.” Y/n quipped, “Listen, Sirius, Regulus is trying. He really is.”

“You would know this how?”

“Because we’ve been friends for a long time.”

“Oh really?” Sirius questioned sarcastically, crossing his arms, “Since when did you and Reggie become so close?”

“He began tutoring me in third year for Potions.” Y/n answered, “You couldn’t have asked Remus?”

“No. “ Y/n shook her head, “Slughorn wanted Regulus specifically.”

“Well then. Full moon tomorrow, hope you’re prepared.” Sirius chirped as he began walking up the steps to his dorm, “I’m always prepared.” Y/n replied to essentially no one.

She sighed. It was apparent Sirius didn’t want to believe what Regulus had written. It would’ve been hard on anyone. But Regulus wanted it to come from him instead of Sirius finding out. Since Y/n’s third year - Regulus’ second year - she felt attracted to him. He always made time for her. It wasn’t until their fourth year when she realized it. In her fifth year, they made it official. Regulus Black and Y/n Lupin were a couple but hidden beneath an invisibility cloak.

Seventh year wasn’t easy. The upcoming war, her brother's lycanthropy, N.E.W.T.S, and Regulus getting the dark mark. Nothing seemed to be working in her favor. Books didn’t even seem to please her anymore. Her eyes wandered while she began to daydream about anything rather than reality itself. People began to notice how lost the girl appeared.

Especially her brother.

Study sessions with her weren’t the same. Some days her eyes would appear glossier than usual as if someone put a coating of lip gloss over them. Maybe they were rimmed with a pastel pink seeming tired and unhappy. The tremors in her hands were hard to ignore as she wrote with her quill. If there’s one thing Remus Lupin was good at, it was being observant; however, there wasn’t time, and he didn’t have the patience to deal with this right now. The full moon approaching meant that Remus’ patience tolerance was down to about none.

There was one thing that brought her clarity. Regulus Black. The Gryffindor common room was always a warm and welcoming atmosphere. In contrast, the Slytherin common room was cold and damp, but it brought her comfort because of the person inside. Y/n padded quietly inside of his prefect hallway, which was beside the Slytherin common. She walked into his bedroom, which was dark.

No candles lit. Just dark. Regulus always felt comfort in the dark, but it wasn’t dark because of that. It was dark because he was absent. Y/n peered over to his desk, where letters sat from his mother and some cousins. Andromeda seemed to try and reach him, but the letter looked unopened. There was one that caught her eye. It was Remus’ handwriting, and it was from him. It was also opened. Y/n knew she couldn’t stay all night. The full moon was due to rise in just two hours.

Picking up the parchment, she began to read:

“ To Regulus Black,

You need to step up. I get it. Sirius has been disowned, but he tries to make an effort. Can’t you see that? Sirius really needs you, and I know that you miss him too. This whole stubborn game of not wanting to talk to each other has gone on long enough.

I know what it’s like to argue with a sibling, and it isn’t pleasant. Suck it up, swallow your pride and talk to Sirius. You don’t have to ultimately make up, but please, he’s trying.

From, Remus Lupin. “

Y/n swallowed down her anger. Who was Remus to get involved in their affairs? If Sirius and Regulus didn’t want to interact, that was their problem, not his. It infuriated her. But she didn’t have time to babble around. Y/n pointed her wand at her and became a cat. Perks of her animagus being allowed at Hogwarts, she could roam around freely without suspicion. Quickly she sprinted down to the Whomping Willow, where she was met with her three Marauders in human form. Y/n transformed back.

“Where were you! I was worried sick!” Remus scolded, “Nowhere, but we need to talk later.” Y/n answered.

They got Remus in the shack and changed into their animagus forms. A stag, a rat, a dog, and a cat. The dog and the cat had the most interaction with the werewolf. Sometimes the dog and werewolf would cuddle up beside each other, whereas the cat would sleep on its own along with the other two animals. The following day Y/n and Sirius lugged Remus up to the hospital wing. Y/n sat beside him the entire time while the other three went off. Sirius and James were off to Quidditch practice. Peter was off to see his girlfriend in Hufflepuff.

Y/n tapped aimlessly on Remus’ hand, “M- Morning.”

“Morning, Moony.” Y/n greeted, “How are you feeling?”

“Phenomenal.”

“Sorry.”

“What did we need to talk about?” Remus questioned, and Y/n tilted her head, “You said we needed to talk before going to the shack.”

“Yes, I did. Um- uh- did you send Regulus a letter by any chance?” Y/n stammered, “I did. Why?”

“I saw it.” Y/n replied shortly, “You saw it?” Remus repeated incredulously.

She nodded, “How did you see it?”

“Regulus and I are friends. Sometimes we hang out in his dorm.” The words seemed like nothing as they rolled off her tongue, “You hang out in the Slytherin dorms? Is that why you always know the password so we can do pranks?”

“Of course.” Y/n chuckled, “I use my privilege to its advantage.”

Remus began to get up but grimaced, causing Y/n to jump up to help him. Gently she eased him to a sitting position. A new scratch on his cheek and multiple on his arms. It’s evident that the cat and the dog had to stop him. The thin scratches on his arms were a cat's nails. The thicker scratch on his cheek was a dog's nails. Remus looked down at his arms.

“I’m sorry.” Y/n muttered, “Not your fault, paws. Who was it this time?” Remus asked.

“Prongs. Apparently, you wanted Prongs.” Y/n answered, and he kissed the top of her head, “Thank you for stopping me.”

“Anything for my brother.”

“Just like anything for our Moony?”

Y/n laughed, “Yeah.”

Paws began to tap on his hand again, until a voice echoed through the hospital wing, “Y/n?”

“Y/n?” The voice called again, and Remus quirked his eyebrow at his sheepish sister, “Y/n!”

Suddenly a black-haired, grey-eyed, pale figure was beside her. He didn’t realize what he was doing until he had already kissed the top of her head worriedly. Y/n turned pink at the affection and the embarrassment of it happening in front of her brother. Remus coughed, and the male stood straight.

“Regulus, what a surprise.” Remus retorted, “Didn’t think you’d ever visit me in the infirmary.”

“Remus, please-“

“I wouldn’t.” Regulus snapped, “Then why are you here?” Remus inquired.

Regulus’ hand was playing aimlessly with the ends of Y/n’s hair, “Moony….” Y/n began at a whisper, “Regulus is my boyfriend.”

“This-“ Remus pointed at them both with a laughing smile, “Is funny.”

“Nice prank, paws, but it isn’t going to work.”

Y/n sighed, “It isn’t a prank, Rem.”

“We’ve been together for about two years now.” She confessed, and Regulus stiffened, “Friends, my ass.” Remus scoffed bitterly.

“Remus, please-“ Y/n began, “No, please just leave. We can talk about this later when I’m in the right frame of mind. Because if you don’t leave, now I might throw a punch.” Remus replied.

She sighed and reluctantly left with Regulus trailing behind her. Y/n didn’t want to cry. It was pitiful. Regulus never had a good relationship with Sirius since Hogwarts, yet he didn’t seem to care. Thankfully, after building the Marauders Map, she knew every little crevice and hiding spot. Pulling back a tapestry, she sat down on the cement floor. Regulus doing the same beside her. Hesitantly he pulled his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest.

“This is pitiful.” Y/n chuckled bitterly, “I’m sorry, Reggie.”

“It isn’t pitiful. You and Remus have a close relationship. It’s okay to be sad about him telling you off.” Regulus replied, placing his chin on the top of her head, “Sirius and I are different. Don’t compare you and Remus with us.”

Y/n nuzzled into his chest, “I saw the letter Remus sent you.”

“I- I saw the way he spoke to you, and I’m sorry.” Y/n stated, “I hope he comes around.”

“I do too, love.” Regulus kissed the top of her head, “ I do too.”

It was quiet for a moment until two figures pulled back the tapestry, “Oi! Get off, little Lupin!” James exclaimed, and Y/n sighed, “Sirius, James, please just leave.”

“What are you doing with my mate's little sister, Regulus?” Sirius interrogated, “Comforting her. She needs me.” Regulus retorted, tightening his grip on her shoulder.

Y/n stood up and pulled Regulus with her, “Come on. We four need to talk.”

The four of them walked into a broom closet. It was a quiet walk. Eerily quiet. It brought shivers down Y/n’s spine at how silent the walk was. The tension was so thick you couldn’t cut it with a knife. The pressure felt like sludge. It was thick and mush. But when Y/n opened the door, the lot of them walked inside. James and Sirius stared expectantly.

“Regulus and I have been dating since my fifth year.” Y/n began, and Regulus intertwined their hands.

“Little Lupin!” Sirius exclaimed, “You weren’t lying when you said you had a secret boyfriend!”

“You scandalous little thing!”

“I can’t believe this.” James stated after running his hand through his hair, “How did Remus take it?”

“Not very well.” Y/n replied, “He kicked me out of the hospital wing when Regulus showed up. “

“He’s- He’s not in the right mindset, though. He’ll come to. I know he will. He has to.”

Sirius’ eyes softened, “Moony will come around. It might just take him a minute.”

“Regulus.” James called, and grey eyes stared at him, “Y/n is a Marauder.”

“I know that.” Regulus interrupted, “She is my little sister as much as she is Remus’” James continued.

“And mine!” Sirius added, smiling brightly, “Y/n is our little sister. The lot of us depend on her. We can’t, and we won’t have her heartbroken.” James explained sternly, suddenly looking a lot like Mrs. Potter.

Regulus’ cheeks flushed with pink, “I love her, I really do. I don’t plan on breaking her heart anytime soon.”

“You’re gonna be my sister-in-law!” Sirius squealed, hugging Y/n forcefully, almost knocking her over, “Oh, little Lupin.” He cooed.

“You’re all grown up!”

They laughed, and Sirius kissed her forehead, “Take care of him, will you?” He whispered so only she could hear, “Of course.” Y/n smiled.

“Alright, alright, I’d like my girlfriend back,” Regulus replied, taking her away from Sirius’ arms.

Sirius gulped, “How’s mum going to take this, Reggie?”

“I don’t care.” Regulus retorted, “Mums gonna have to deal with it.”

The smile on Sirius’ face was brighter than the sun, “Oh, Reggie!” He wailed, pulling Regulus into a tight hug.

The two brothers smiled as they hugged each other. Regulus sleeve slipped up, and James stepped back, pulling out his wand. The two Black brothers pulled apart, and that’s when Sirius saw it. The dark mark on his brother's sleeve. Y/n stiffened as Sirius lifted his sleeve up further to see it clearly.

“Reggie…”

“Sirius, please, I didn’t want it.” Regulus pleaded, “She- They- Please.”

James watched intently at them. Sirius’ eyes had filled with tears as he embraced his younger brother. For the first time in a long time, Regulus felt protected in his brother's arms. James walked closer and joined them. Hugging both Black brothers as close as he could. James Potter, the man who never stops giving. They pulled apart, and James took Reggie into his own arms.

“You need anything, you come to me, okay?” James informed sternly, and Regulus nodded, “Ye- Yeah.”

“Remus and Y/n always come for the holidays. You won’t be alone.” James stated smiling, “My parents already have one Black; they won’t mind another.”

The Black brother smiled, “Thank you….”

The days went on, and Regulus still avoided the Marauders altogether. Remus glared at him from the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Deep emerald green eyes were flashing at the grey ones that sat at the Slytherin table. Until Y/n jabbed him in the ribs, taking his attention away from the younger Black brother.

“Remus.” Y/n scolded, “Stop it.”

“I think you’re too hard on him, Moony.” James began, “He loves your sister. Maybe talk to him.”

“No.” Remus snapped, “You guys can accept this, but I can’t.”

They didn’t push any further. Y/n and Remus had been distant from each other. It was weird to watch the twins who were typically attached at the hip to be so - abroad. Regulus didn’t like that he was now the cause of their fussing. After all, they were the reason Sirius and him were on speaking terms now. So Regulus and Sirius made a plan. It involved them being locked in a broom closet, and so it happened—one night after dinner.

Remus was shoved into a cupboard, not by his own liking either, “Come on, Sirius! This isn’t funny. I have prefect duties to do!”

“Actually, someone else has taken them over.” Regulus informed, and Remus whipped around, “What are you two doing here?”

“Remus, explain it to me.” Regulus began, “Why you don’t approve of me with your sister.”

“Because! You’re a bloody death eater! You probably forced her to be with you.” Remus exclaimed.

Y/n scoffed, “A pureblood forcing himself with a half-breed? Doesn’t seem likely.”

Remus ran his hand through his hair, “Okay, he’s still a death eater!”

“I was forced!” Regulus exclaimed, “They strapped me to a chair and embedded the mark into my forearm. You don’t think I wasn’t thinking of her the entire time?! I was scared out of my mind!”

“The entire time, all I could think about was ‘How is Y/n gonna take this.’” Regulus admitted, “My heart aches for her. I didn’t want her to be scared.”

Remus’ green eyes turned soft, “Does she accept you? Does she love you? Do you love her?”

“Yes, Remus. I love him for who he is. James offered him a place to stay at the Potters.” Y/n replied, “And yes, I love her.”

Tears filled her eyes, “Remus, please. I don’t want to lose either of you.”

Remus held out his arms, and she walked right into them. He placed one hand on the back of her head and one on the small of her waist. Holding her close to his heart, rubbing his thumb through her hair. Regulus’ grey eyes stared at the two siblings before him. Remus’ heart softened at his crying sister. He never wanted to hurt her, ever.

“Paws.” Remus began as he pulled away slightly, “Does he make you happy?”

Y/n sniffled and nodded; Remus wiped her cheeks, “Okay.”

“Does he know you, for you?”

“Mhm.”

Remus turned to Regulus as Y/n parted with him, “Where’s paws favorite place to be scratched?”

Regulus chuckled, “Behind her ears.”

“Take care of my little sister.” Remus pleaded, “Please, Regulus.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t expect any different.” Regulus answered.

Remus walked forward and put out his hand. Hesitantly Regulus shook his hand. Grey eyes met green ones. Remus couldn’t help the smile that placed itself on his face. Without hesitation, he pulled Regulus into a tight hug.

“Take care of my sister, and I’ll take care of you.”

“Always.”

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e1dritchjackal0pe · 2 years ago

Text

Random Corey Relationship Scenarios

Features some 18+ content, minor DNI. If you're under 18 just do everyone a favor and sit this one out

I wrote this out of the blue at 2:00 in the morning so the writing isn't my best. There also wasn't supposed to be any smut but the whore in me jumped out.

---------------------------------------------------

🔪Despite belief I don't think Corey would be a huge horror movie fan. At least in the beginning, we're talking about before the Jeremy accident and pre-Michael Corey. He grew up in a very controlling household, and I doubt that Joan would let him watch a genre full of violence and (typically) sex.

I've seen someone else say that he's a sci-fi fan, and I second that. It's a genre that he was actually able to get away with, along with some action/comedy films. That being said, movie dates are pretty common for you two. And you've made it your mission to expose him to popular media and cult classics alike that he was never able to see. The Nightmare on Elm Street, It, Near Dark, Trick r' Treat, The Rocky Horror Picture Show, just to name a few.

There's been a couple times where he's accidentally thrown his body onto yours from an unexpected jump scare and he's always so embarrassed once he realizes what he's done. His face is flushed, avoiding your gaze while he stumbles over an apology. He blushes even more when you tell him how cute it is and that you don't mind. You'll keep him safe from the big bad monster.

🔪Quick stops to the gas station are always a must. Corey always reaches for a bottle of chocolate milk, and you usually grab a slushie and some random assortment of junk food for whatever movie marathon you're planning.

Until his bike, you drive the both of you there as a way to avoid people. But during the night, around 9:30 before the stores close and everyone in Haddonfield has returned home to sleep or are at the bar, you can walk to the station without the fear of running into a group of bullies or having some asshole in a lifted Chevy throw some piss hot big gulp at the pair of you.

🔪He's usually too shy to outright ask for PDA, but you can always tell when he's feeling particularly clingy or in need of affection by the way that he stares at you (not that he knows, if he knew how obvious he was he'd probably die of embarrassment) or hovers by your side. Always nearby, his pinky often brushing against yours but never grasping. It's up to you to take his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze and basking in the way that his cheeks flush pink.

🔪He absolutely melts for neck kisses. He fantasizes about you leaving plum and cherry-colored marks across the expanse of his throat. You want nothing more than to deliver on that desire, but with the threat of his mother possibly discovering them, you make sure not to.

🔪Head scratches and playing with his hair immediately makes him relax. If he's lying on you while you do, be prepared to be stuck to that spot for a good while, cause he's not moving. And if you try to stop, he won't be able to help the low whine that leaves his pouty lips. He'll look at you with those warm puppy eyes and you'll be defenseless. You swear, he does it on purpose.

🔪He took you to the summer fair and refused to leave until he won you the massive pink koala stuffie that you wanted. That night is one of his favorite memories. Your relationship was still fresh and awkward but despite that he couldn't help but think about how much he wanted to kiss you. Your car had risen to the top of the Ferris wheel, and you looked positively radiant. While you were busy gushing about how beautiful it looked from the height, Corey was debating on whether or not he should go in for the kiss. Ignoring the insecure voice shouting at him from the back of his head, he reached for yours, softly directing your face towards him so that he could connect your lips to his own. It was admittedly a little clumsy at first but soon the both of you found a rhythm and fell into a slow kiss. It was new and explorative, but it made your hearts race all the same. You tasted like the baby blue cotton candy you had earlier, like sugar and syrup. The both of you quickly got lost in your cliché kiss up top the Ferris wheel, only disconnecting so that you could breathe.

🔪Dates on the roof of Willie the Kids radio station. He started going there after the accident as a way to meditate. On particularly bad days when the citizens of Haddonfield are just impossible to escape and the conspiratorial whispers and dealing with his parents become too much to bear, he flees to the safety of his private safe space.

🔪He found it one night after a day of colorful comments and dark threats from the town residents, so he went on a walk. A last resort to blow off some steam and get away. The soft red on the tip of the radio tower blinked softly like a beacon in the night. He'd later on introduce you to his safe haven and it would become one of your main spots unless you both met at your house.

Snuggles are a must while the both of you talk and vent about your day. With you lounging in his warm embrace, listening to the low rasp of his voice or him cuddling into your chest, being lulled by the thrum of your heart, counting each precious beat.

You both talk about life outside of Haddonfield and what your shared future will be like once you finally escape its clutches.

(You may or may not have gone down on him a few times on that roof, while he clasps a hand over his mouth to make sure that his whines can't be heard. The quieter he tries to be the more you double down.)

🔪He suffers from nightmares. About the accident mostly. He jolts up in the middle of the night, a sheen of sweat covering his skin and a wild look in his eyes. He does his best not to wake you up too, but the times that he does you're always there with open arms and reassuring words in the hopes of guiding him back to sleep.

🔪Tucking his quivering form into your chest, running your hands up and down his back and running your fingers through his hair until he's calm enough to sleep. He always apologizes the morning after, and you do your best to assure him that you aren't mad at him. That it's not his fault and that you'll always be there for him.

🔪On the nights that he does risk staying over at your place late, you always try and make sure to wake up with him to properly say goodbye.

He used to try and slip out of bed without disturbing you, but he couldn't handle how disappointed you'd look the next time you'd see him. How you would tell him that you wished he woke you up before parting ways. Now he makes sure to rouse you from your sleep gently. He knows that despite how adamant you are about sending him off, you hate being up early and so, he cuddles you close and peppers every inch of your face with soft kisses until your eyes blink open and that gorgeous smile graces your lips.

🔪After a day of work there's nothing he adores more than showering together.It doesn't have to lead anywhere sexual, but there's something intimate about washing each other clean of the days grime.

As stated previously, he loves it when his hair is played with, when you wash his hair for him he falls in love all over again. Just letting himself relax while you massage the shampoo into his scalp. He'll lean into your body and tuck his face into the crook of your neck to breath in the scent of you. He likes washing you as well. Collecting a dollop of your body wash on the palm of his hand and working the solution across your skin until it forms suds, massaging you muscles and working out the kinks and nots that formed throughout the day.

🔪You're his personal nurse. Between the constant harassment from the Haddonfield population and the eventual killings, he's usually stumbling home with some new bruise or cut. You've learned to keep a first aid kit in your house since you've begun dating and to keep it stocked. You often find yourselves in the kitchen or bathroom while you stand over him, dabbing at whatever new scrape he's accumulated. You're always so gentle with him, making sure to ask him if you're hurting him and apologizing when you do. Holding him like he's made of glass. Like he might break if you're too rough. And honestly, he might just would. Because you own him, body and soul.

🔪Once he gets his bike, he's driving both of you everywhere. It offers a sense of freedom that he hasn't experienced yet. Sure, there was your car before, but he likes his bike because it's his. Plus, it gives him an excuse to have you hold onto him. Cruising around Haddonfield and evening joyrides are a frequent occurrence. It easily becomes one of your favorite things to do as well. Wrapping your arms securely around the plain of his body, molding your stomach to the heat of him while you speed down the open road. It's easy to get lost in the fantasy that the both of you are finally leaving this awful town. With the autumn air dewy with the scent of falling leaves and his cologne, you like to press your face into the crook of his neck and bask in the warmth of him and picture that the two of you driving past that shitty sign declaring the departure of Haddonfield's city limits.

🔪Sometimes when you're feeling bold, you'll remove your arms from around Corey so that you can spread them out into the air and pretend that you're flying while the bike roars down the empty strip of road. The first time you did this, you nearly gave Corey a heart attack. He insisted that you come up with a way to tell him when you were planning on doing it so that he can slow down to a safer speed. So now you have to tap him twice somewhere on his body as a heads up.

🔪There's a clearing on a low hill that overlooks Haddonfield that he likes to take you to. He parks his bike right in the center of it so that you can see the town from such a different perspective and the both of you are facing each other on the seat of the bike. And while you're busy looking at the cluster of lights down below he's admiring you with a heady lovestruck expression that you can't ignore. When your eyes finally flicker over to his your trapped in a trance. It's just you and him and suddenly you're both kissing.

🔪He often fantasizes about taking you on his bike, but he doubts that would pan out very great with the whole balance thing. While he may not be able to do the specifically, he has driven you somewhere private so that he could have you sit in front of him on the seat, your back pressed to his chest. He'll drape your legs over his so that he could use his own to keep you spread open. Dipping a hand underneath the band of your jeans to slip two fingers into the heat of you and rocking them against that delicious spot inside of you until you come on his fingers. Whispering praise and filth in your ear while you spasm and moan helplessly.

🔪He's always been protective and possessive, but after meeting Michael he now has the attitude to act on it. Wherever the two of you are out and about he's always touching in some way. Whether it's by holding your hand, an arm draped across your shoulder, a hand pressed against your lower back... You get the picture. It's his way of silently broadcasting that you're his.

With said jealous steak, if someone flirts with you he's scaring them way with a dark glare before pulling you into a searing kiss as a way to punctate the warning. Once the both of you are finally somewhere private he's backing you against the nearest wall or tossing you on the bed and he won't let up until you're nothing but a ball of quivering muscles that's too cock drunk to form a coherent sentence.

🔪He tried his best to keep his . . . hobby a secret from you. But between the late nights, the missing people, the frequent cuts and bruises (more than usual) you start to connect the dots. Albeit reluctantly. Who wants to admit that their boyfriend is a possible murderer?

You ignore the signs for as long as you can until you have no choice but to confront him about it. He's entire posture changes as soon as the questions start spilling out of your mouth, his body going rigid and tense. He dodges the interrogation for as long as he can until eventually you've back him into a corner, and he shouts out his confession. He expects you to run out of the house screaming, for you to start shoving him out of your house. Demand him to leave and never come back. But you don't do either of those things.

The entire situation just seals your fate. There's no getting rid of him now. It's you and him, ride until you die, forever.

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