#insert coherent rest of sentence here

[ahbts]

Kinktober day 5: Moonwater(Moonseeker) - Overstimulating || NSFW || Words: 1067 || Tags: Professor Remus - Student Regulus - Desk fuck - Daddy kink - Age gap

“Don’t tell me this is already too much for you, my little star,” Remus smiles around Regulus’ cock, looking up at the younger man from under his lashes. “You came to me. You know what you asked for, and you will endure it, right, love? For me?”

Regulus doesn’t get to answer because Remus has already taken him down his throat again. Remus watches how the boy slams a hand over his mouth and tries to find grip on the desk behind him. “Daddy, I–”

“Hmm,” Remus hums, the vibration of the sound making Regulus gasp for air. He sucks hard once more before popping off the small dick with a satisfied grin. “Come now, you know what you asked for walking in here, you think I’ll make it easy for you, Regulus?”

Coming up from the ground, Remus lets his hands slide over the perfect silk skin of Regulus’ legs until he reaches his university hoodie. “Looking so innocent, the perfect student, but in the meantime,” he pulls the hoodie over Regulus’ head, letting the boy stand completely naked against his desk, “fucking his professors.”

“Professor,” Regulus corrects him, “only one.”

“That’s right, my perfect star,” Remus drawls, placing his hands under Regulus’ thighs and hoisting him up the desk. “I am so lucky.”

Regulus groans when Remus lets his hands trail over Regulus’ chest and graces his nipples with his nails before taking both pink numbs between his fingers and pinching. “So pretty for me,” Remus tells the boy and Regulus throws his head back and pulls his legs up the edge of the desk while Remus rolls the nipples between his fingers.

“Please, Daddy, I need– need–” Regulus pants, the words not coming in coherent sentences and Remus chuckles slightly as Regulus spreads his legs a bit wider.

“I know, baby, I’ll give you what you need,” Remus promises, removing one hand from Regulus’ chest and using it to open his belt buckle, “patience.”

He squats down again, hearing his knees crack as he leans in to lick a stripe over the perfect little hole. Regulus moans, almost too loud, the walls of the offices aren’t that thick, but Remus revels in the idea of someone overhearing them as he licks again, and again. The fingers of his left hand still work Regulus’ nipple, while his tongue works itself inside him and his right-hand finds his own cock. Stroking himself in tandem with his movements makes Remus' arousal rise and he wants to bury himself in the boy so badly.

“Do you think you can be good for me and turn, baby?”

Regulus lets his legs fall to the floor immediately and turns around, his arse perking out and his hands flat on the desk. “Like this, Daddy?”

“Perfect, little star.”

With a bit of effort, Remus gets back to his feet and walks around the desk, opening the drawer to grab the almost empty bottle of lube. “Looks like we’re almost out,” he grins and Regulus lifts his head to meet Remus’ gaze. He smirks too with a shrug.

“Exam stress is getting to me hard.”

“I know, baby,” Remus muses, coming back behind the boy and lubing himself up before putting some on his index and middle finger to insert them into Regulus with a precise push. The boy moans filthy and Remus grins. “Let’s relieve some of that stress shall we?”

“Yes, Daddy, please,” Regulus moans, letting his cheek rest on the desk.

Remus opens him up quickly and replaces his fingers with his stiff cock, thrusting into Regulus with fervour. He leans over and takes Regulus’ cock in his hand, stroking him while thrusting deeply. “That better, little star?”

“Fuck, yes, Daddy,” Regulus moans, his hot breath condensing on the desk. “So much better.”

Remus fucks him thoroughly and it’s not for long that Regulus is crying out that he is coming. Remus is not even nearly there and he lets Regulus catch his breath for a second before he starts moving again. “I think we can go for another one, what about you, baby?”

The gasp coming from Regulus is a mix of excitement and trepidation. Remus laughs and glides his hands over Regulus’ back as he thrusts in again, harsh and quick. “God, you feel so good, baby.”

“Oh, shit, fuck, that’s–” Regulus moans, not getting to say what he thinks because Remus is hitting his prostate and the only thing he can mutter is ‘so good’.

“Yeah, want to feel good baby?”

“Yes, please” Regulus croons, lifting his head slightly. Remus slides out and turns the other around, lifting him up to the desk before thrusting back in. Regulus’ fierce green eyes look up at Remus and he feels the pleasure in his abdomen increase tenfold when the boy smiles at him. “Hi, Daddy.”

The green is gone quickly when Remus leans over him and takes one of Regulus’ nipples in his mouth, biting and sucking at it. Regulus’ eyes close and his head is thrown back in the sensation. Remus can feel his already stiff cock against his abdomen and reaches for it with a last flick of his tongue.

“Hi, baby,” he groans, feeling his orgasm approach while he pumps his fist around Regulus’ hard cock and thrusts so hard that the desk is rocking. “Eyes on me.”

They shoot open and Remus sees the foggy look that has come over Regulus, making the older man smile. “Are you going to come for me again, little star?”

“Daddy, daddy, please, too much, too–” Regulus pants as Remus speeds up his handwork and thrusts with aim to hit Regulus’ prostate. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

White spurs over Remus’ hand but he doesn’t let go, keeping the spent cock warm with his large hand while he fucks himself to his climax. The desk scratches over the floor and Regulus lies on it, spent and a happy, dazed smile on his lips when Remus finds his release. He folds over the other man with a deep groan and a heavy sigh.

It’s silent in the room for a bit, Remus just gathering his wits and Regulus panting from the excursion. There is a hand in Remus’ curls and he smiles from the small act of sweetness from the boy.

“Good session,” Remus muses.

Regulus chuckles as well, finding Remus’ eyes as he cocks his eyebrow. “Same time tomorrow, professor?”

[maccreadysbaby]

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: angst

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

terrible bad plan number 19284728 is brewing (and so is something else)

part thirty-five

❝ ARSONIST ❞

THURSDAY — SEPTEMBER 3 — 7:00AM

ASTEN WAS… REALLY, REALLY, REALLY SICK. Just within four hours of arriving at the Manor, he’d thrown up three fever medicine attempts, gone up to a hundred-and-four temperature, and hadn’t been able to say a coherent sentence the entire time.

Bentley and Nico had taken up residence on a loveseat situated in the corner of the dim guest room, and Nico was curled up across it, dead asleep with his head on Bentley’s lap. Alfred kept checking his temperature frequently with a forehead scanning thermometer. The screen always turned green, which meant good. Asten’s always turned red.

Surprisingly enough, Jason had taken it upon himself to stay in the bedroom basically the whole time. Bentley wasn’t really sure why — maybe he cared about Asten because they were both from Crime Alley? He didn’t really know, and he wasn’t going to ask and ruin it. He liked having Jason around so much, even if it wasn’t for him. Dick and Bruce kept going in and out to fetch things they needed and to give Nico’s parents updates. (Asten’s uncle, Sam, didn’t seem to care much about updates. He never picked up Dick’s calls.)

It had taken a while for Nico to stop crying. Everything seemed to be taking more of a toll on him than Bentley realized. Especially distancing himself from his parents; that was the worst part. With the whole adoption surprise and now the superpowers, he wouldn’t even begin to let himself near them. And for a kid who had never really been away from them to start with, it was pretty hard. Sleeping was the most peaceful Bentley had seen him in a while, so he stayed dutifully still as to not disturb his slumber.

The guest room had been silent for a while, apart from Alfred checking Asten and Nico’s temperatures every now and then. Currently, he was out of the room, searching with Bruce for a medicine Asten might be able to stomach better, and Jason went with them to get more liquid for the drip, leaving Nico and Bentley the only two in the room.

It seemed like absolutely everything that could go wrong, was going wrong. And Bentley was always to blame.

“Remember Titus?”

Bentley flinched with a gasp when Nico spoke, very nearly whacking him in the face. He glanced down, and Nico was looking up at him, blue eyes glazed over a dull. “I didn’t know you were awake.”

Nico sat up with a small, forced snicker that didn’t really reach his eyes. He ran a hand through his fluffy blonde hair and sighed, rubbing his face. “Sorry. Apparently I’m so tired that sleeping is hard.”

“I’m sorry,” Bentley mumbled, glancing over at Asten. “And yeah. I remember Titus.”

Nico pulled his knees up on the maroon loveseat, rubbing at his eyes with his hands. “He ran… or, teleported away after Asten told him about his parents. Never showed back up. Didn’t this happen to him before he got superpowers? The sickness?”

“Uh…” Bentley glanced over at Nico, who was waiting expectantly for an answer to the question he already knew the answer to, and then back over at Asten’s limp form. Only his head was visible beneath the beige quilt. “I guess so…”

“It’s all there. Fever, throwing up, delirium, vertigo, fatigue, sweating, loss of consciousness. The only thing Dr. Keene talked about that we haven’t seen from him was burning pain,” Nico explained in a whisper, fiddling with his pajama pants. (Bentley’s sailboat pajamas, actually. They had him change after he admitted that Asten had indeed thrown up on him.) 

Bentley blinked a few times. “But Titus was sick as soon as he came out of the synchronizer. It’s been over two weeks since we were there.”

Nico shrugged, resting his head on his knees. “I dunno. It was just something I thought about.”

“Didn’t Titus’s sickness just go away after five days?” Bentley questioned, glancing over at him, and Nico replied with a simple nod. 

“It’s starting day six for Asten.”

Bentley turned back toward their sick friend. He watched in silence as Asten turned his head with a groan, making the cool washcloth Dick put there flop off onto the mattress.

With a soft exhale, Bentley stood, stretching and making his way to the edge of the bed. Asten still looked terrible — his face was fever flushed and he was sweating like no one Bentley had ever seen. That and the wet washcloth made his black and blue hair soggy and stick to his face. His lips were pale and Bentley didn’t think he’d seen his eyes open once since he’d arrived. It reminded him of when Tim was sick — scary.

With a pang of pity that moved through his veins, he dipped the washcloth in a bowl of cold water, squeezed it out, and put it back on Asten’s forehead.

An extremely dramatic groan was the first real reaction they got out of Asten all day. He didn’t say any words, but turned his head to the side to make the washcloth fall off again.

“I know it's cold,” Bentley started, grabbing the cloth and putting it back, keeping his hand over it so it wouldn’t move even if Asten did. “But it’s helping you.”

Asten turned his head from side to side trying to get it off, and Bentley apologetically held it there. Nico drifted up next to him with a quiet sigh.

“I wish he would be better already,” He muttered, huffing and crossing his arms. “He’s going to hate me.”

Bentley momentarily glanced at him, catching the calculating way he was looking at Asten. “Why would you say that?”

Nico shrugged, his dull blue eyes bouncing around the room. “On the third day, when his fever was really bad, I said we should probably call you or my parents or an ambulance or something, but he wouldn’t let me. He said he didn’t want any help. And now I brought him here.”

“You… did the right thing,” Bentley replied, looking back at Asten, who was still moving his head side to side. “The best thing for him.”

Nico nodded in silence. 

Asten groaned unintelligibly, and one of his hands came up from under the quilt and pushed weakly at Bentley’s wrist. 

“I know it’s cold,” The redhead repeated. Asten began to squirm slightly on the bed, his eyebrows pinching together in discomfort.

“G’off,” He halfway grumbled. Nico shifted by Bentley’s when an actual word came out of Asten’s mouth for the first time in a whole twenty-four hours.

“Not until your fever breaks,” Bentley replied, holding the cloth firmly in place. “I’m sorry.”

Asten didn’t like that.

“G’off!” He begged in his not-awake-but-not-unconscious limbo, and he pinched his face together in a way that Bentley knew all too well — that he was about to start crying. “Please… please…”

Bentley sighed lightly. “Okay. Just for a minute,” And then he lifted the cloth off of Asten’s forehead again. The older boy’s features softened, and he fell peaceful.

There was shuffling by his side, and before Bentley could turn to see what was happening, Nico scanned Asten’s forehead with their thermometer. Bentley counted to ten and then put the cloth back, to which Asten groaned dramatically again. Only a few seconds later, Nico moved Bentley’s hand and scanned Asten’s head again. And then again.

“What are you doing?” Bentley questioned, glancing over at him. Nico was staring at the glowing red thermometer screen like it had a picture of a unicorn on it, his blue eyes blown dinner-plate wide.

“He should be dead,” Was Nico’s muted mumble.

Bentley furrowed his brow and stepped closer to Nico, peering down at the thermometer.

The screen was bright red, displaying a large  hundred-and-eighteen-point-four.

Bentley blinked, and then rubbed his eyes. Bruce had talked about Tim’s hundred-and-four being bad…

“Do it again,” He ordered. Nico reached forward and repeated the process, swiping the thermometer across Asten’s forehead. A hundred-and-eighteen-point-seven.

“This thing has to be broken,” Nico suggested, lifting the thermometer up and scanning Bentley’s forehead with it. It came back green — ninety-eight-point-four. He reached over and did Asten’s again.

A hundred-and-nineteen-point-six.

“You better put that cloth back on him. This is insane. Impossible, really. He should literally be burning alive inside his own body. Like, vegetable territory,” Nico muttered, scanning his own forehead with the device. Ninety-eight-point-seven.

“He can hear you,” Bentley muttered, dipping the cloth in the water bowl again.

“He shouldn’t be hearing anything! He should be dead!”

Bentley said nothing, wringing out the cloth. Nico checked Asten’s temperature one last time. A hundred-and-twenty-point-one.

“It’s literally getting higher by the second!” 

Bentley pressed the cloth back on Asten’s forehead, to which he protested by screwing his face up and squirming around on the bed some more.

“The highest internal temperature a person has ever survived is a hundred-and-fifteen-point-seven!” Nico exclaimed, tossing the thermometer on the table and staring at Asten with a strange look on his face. Bentley glanced over at him without a word. “What? I looked it up when Asten started getting sick.”

Bentley said nothing, but continued to hold the cloth down on Asten’s forehead. He could feel the heat radiating from him through the cloth. If a hundred-and-four was bad, how was Asten still alive at a hundred-and-twenty?

Asten groaned dramatically again, pushing at Bentley’s wrist with more force now. He grumbled, “Get it off,” coherently, like he was actually starting to wake up.

“I know you don’t-“

“Get it off!”

“But you-“

“Get it off!” Asten’s eyes snapped open that time, but they weren’t green anymore. They were…

They were…

Glowing orange.

Bentley and Nico both jumped backwards, and the cloth slid from Bentley’s fingers and splatted on the floor next to his feet. Asten blinked a few times and looked around the room, a bit disoriented, his orange irises bouncing here and there. 

“Hey,” Bentley greeted nervously, sending a quick glance to Nico. Asten looked over at them, eyes flicking between the pair incredulously. “It’s okay, you’re at my place.”

Asten said nothing, but kept blinking like he wasn’t sure what was going on. Bentley bent down and picked up the washcloth from the floor, dipping it back in the water bowl and wringing it out. “And your fever is really really really high, so I need to put this back on you.”

Asten blinked, the glowing in his eyes unrelenting, the orange pulsing and moving like flames. “But I feel fine.”

“But you-“ Bentley started, but Nico elbowed him lightly. Their eyes met before Nico whispered: “He’s delirious. He was saying the same thing the other day, but he couldn’t even tell me his own name.”

Don’t argue with someone who is delirious, Bentley knew that much from helping with Tim. He nodded to himself and then glanced back over at Asten, who was now sitting up straight, looking around like he’d never seen and bedroom in his life. 

“That’s great. I’m glad you’re feeling better, but your fever is still really really high. The cool cloth is good for you,” He reasoned, wringing it out again and folding it in half to fit on his forehead.

“No it’s not,” Asten argued, shifting away from Bentley on the bed. “It hurts.”

“It’s just cold, buddy. Lay back down,” Bentley tried, holding the cloth up. Asten pushed himself farther away until he was on the far edge of the bed, glaring at the cloth like it had assaulted him. 

“No! Stop it! Get it away! It burns!”

“Shh, shh, stop yelling,” Bentley muttered, glancing at the door in a spurt of panic. If someone heard them, they were screwed. “It's okay, Asten. It’s just a little cool.”

“No it’s not, it burns!”

The washcloth in Bentley’s hand burst into flames with a loud whoosh when Asten said it burns. The redhead cried out in terror, dropping it on the floor with another strange splat.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!” Nico shouted, spinning around in a circle for reasons unbeknownst to Bentley. “Put it out! Put it out!”

Bentley, in a blind panic, grabbed the water bowl from the nightstand and dumped it all over the cloth (and the floor.) The fire went out with a low sizzle.

No one spoke for a solid five seconds. Bentley looked at Nico, who glanced at him with his blue eyes blown wide, a terrified but awestruck look on his face. Then he looked back at Asten, whose eyes were slowly turning from orange back to green.

Had he just…

Set that on fire?

With his mind?

With a grimace of discomfort, Asten laid back down in the bed, satisfied that the cloth would no longer be attacking him. 

“Asten, do you-“

Before Bentley could finish speaking, Asten’s eyes rolled backwards into his head, and he fell unresponsive again.

“Oh my God! He is a metahuman,” Nico mumbled, glancing around the room warily. “We… we should clean this up before your family gets back. Like, now.”

“If they didn’t already hear you screaming,” Bentley muttered, grabbing the singed and blackened cloth out off of the floor. He sent a quick glance to Asten, who was unmoving.

Nico hurried over to the bathroom and opened the sink cabinets. “I thought it was crazy that I had superpowers. And now he does too?!”

Bentley said nothing, but instead, grabbed the empty water bowl and carried it into the bathroom to refill. He tossed the old rag in the trash and covered it with some toilet paper.

“You know, if he has fire based powers, maybe the cold really does hurt,” Nico suggested, grabbing a towel from the cabinet and heading back into the bedroom to mop up the floor as Bentley filled the bowl in the sink. 

“Maybe,” Bentley replied. Everything comes with a downside, doesn’t it? Everything good?

Bentley brought the full bowl back into the room and put it on the nightstand. Nico handed him a new washcloth, and he dipped it in the water just in time for the bedroom door to swing open.

Jason was wearing a blue hoodie and gray sweatpants now, his hair slightly messy with the white part hanging down toward his eyes. He was carrying a few fluid bags in his hands for Asten’s IV. He paused abruptly after he closed the door, glancing between the three children (one unconscious and two rooted to their spots.) for a few seconds with his greenish-blue eyes narrowed. “What’re you up to?”

Bentley blinked, and with a cringe and a quick glance to a terrified Nico, replied: “Nothing, he just… woke up for a second. He… said a real word, too. A few.”

Jason, after a moment of silence and a few way too detective-ish glances, nodded in approval, making his way to the drip stand and unscrewing the old bag from the IV tubes. “That’s good. Will you hand me the thermometer?”

With a grimace, Bentley grabbed it from the bedside table and handed it over.

He and Nico watched in quiet terror as Jason finished changing out the IV bag and scanned Asten’s forehead with the thermometer. The screen turned red, and he looked at it inquisitively, then set it down on the bed with a sigh. “Looks like the fever might be going down, too.”

Bentley blinked once. Twice. Glanced over at Nico, who looked completely bamboozled but was trying not to. There was no way… what?

“What was the temperature?” Bentley questioned, dipping the washcloth back in the water bowl as a way to look like he wasn’t excruciatingly confused.

“A hundred-and-three-point-nine,” Jason replied. Bentley nodded slightly and wringed out the cloth, folding it and placing it gently on Asten’s forehead. He scrunched his face up, but didn’t wake.

And now the question was: had his temperature actually gone down that far that fast, or was Jason lying so he didn’t freak them out?

“Hey, Bentley,”

Bentley and Nico glanced over at the door that was sitting only slightly ajar, and Bentley shifted awkwardly at the voice that had come through it. Damian hadn’t spoken to him in weeks, why would he be calling for him now?

“Yeah?” He questioned.

He waited for Damian to open the door, but he never did. Jason didn’t say anything about it — probably because the assassin actually wanting to talk to somebody was a sign that he was finished hibernating.

“I’ll be right back,” Bentley said to Nico, who nodded.

Bentley moved from Asten’s bedside to the door and swung it open, glancing out into the hallway. It was completely empty, but Damian’s bedroom door was cracked open. No one else’s was.

“Damian?”

“Bentley,”

His voice was echoing from down the stairs, the foyer. Bentley gently swung the guest room door closed behind him and made for the stairs, thumping down them softly. He couldn’t see anybody at the bottom.

“Damian?”

“Bentley,”

When he reached the bottom of the stairs and could see the entire foyer, there was no one in it. The pale sunrise was illuminating outside the windows, making the whole house glow dimly, but there was no Damian anywhere.

“Bentley,”

The redhead turned on a dime, glancing down the hallway that led to the library and den. That’s where the voice was coming from.

His heartbeat was picking up. Why was his heartbeat picking up? Why was he sort of freaked out? “Damian? Are… you okay?”

“In the den,”

Bentley hesitantly made his way down the hall. He checked each room on the way — the office, the library — and they all came up empty, just like the family had left them. When he finally turned into the den, Damian was standing in the middle of the room in a green hoodie and black pants, looking completely and utterly normal. The room was normal, too — messy from movie marathons with an ever-burning fireplace that gave the whole thing a warm glow. Not a pillow was out of place, everything was just how it was the last time Bentley saw it.

He sighed in relief at the sight of Damian, stepping inside and glancing around. His fear quieted, replaced by something like, maybe, happiness? Shock that Damian was actually talking to him? “What is it?”

Damian looked down at his own socked feet for a few moments, fiddling with his hands inside his hoodie pocket. He looked alright. Good, even. “I just wanted to make sure you are aware… that… I do apologize for my previous behavior towards you.”

Bentley blinked, his eyes wandering around the den awkwardly. Right; Damian didn’t like apologizing in front of people, just like when they were in the car. “Uh… it's…”

“I… have to get used to how words affect you. You are different from my brothers. Richard and Drake and Todd — they can threaten one another and say the most crude things all day and still be friends at dinner. I… am still not sure how to effectively communicate with you,” Damian admitted, glancing down at the carpeted floor. “I am sorry for all those things I said. I did not mean them.”

Bentley breathed in and out, blinking. Damian wasn’t really one to go changing his mind, so maybe he actually hadn’t meant it in the first place? But it had sounded so sincere…

Bentley inhaled, muttering softly: “Do you really think everything would be better if I was gone?”

“No,” Damian sighed, shaking his head. Bentley glanced down at his own socks. Why did he feel like he was about to cry?

He heard Damian shift. “I think everything would be better if you were dead.”

Bentley glanced back up at him, and he had a strange, twisted smirk on his face that looked forced, mangled, even. So grotesque that it reminded him momentarily of the joker. Damian’s eyes weren’t blue — they were amber. 

Bentley inhaled sharply. “You’re not Damian.”

He took a few steps back. The fake Damian cackled strangely, and in a blink, it wasn’t Damian anymore — it was The Secret Keeper, standing in the den, in the Manor, right in front of him. Her crooked stitched smile was bleeding, and the tips of her platinum hair were stained crimson. Bentley shouted in fear and stumbled backwards, fell over his own two feet, and hit the floor of the den with a dull thud.

“I can make you see what I want you to see!” The Secret Keeper shouted in a somewhat manic manner, spinning around, her stringy hair whacking her in the face. The den around them melted away into a stretch of the white hallways from Dr. Keene’s lab, sterile and bright and terrifying. Davis was laying at the end of the hall, straight in front of Bentley, covered in something scarily crimson. 

His heart jumped. “Davis?!”

“I can make you hear what I want you to hear!”

“Bentley!” Someone screamed — a girl. Bentley turned around on the cold white tile and, at the opposite end of the hall from Davis, stood a small girl with long red hair. She was wearing pink overalls, holding a purple teddy bear. She was crying. “Bentley, help! He’s coming!”

“Vivienne?” He whispered. How did he know her name?

The Secret Keeper laughed, but he couldn’t see her. “I can reach into every future in every universe and show it to you. Your past, present, and future are mine!” 

Bentley’s father suddenly appeared behind the redhead girl, running at her and scooping her up from behind. Vivienne screamed, dropping the bear and kicking and flailing as he carried her away.

“No! No, father, I don’t want to go to the closet! No! Please! Bentley, help!”

Was Vivienne Bentley’s… sister?

The white hallways faded and melted into a white room of nothing. Bentley had been there before.

“I can make your family hear or see anything I want. Why else would they ignore Nico’s windstorm? The screaming? Because they didn’t hear it,” The Secret Keeper stepped out in front of Bentley from nowhere, smiling twistedly at him, her eyes wide and wild. “Their minds are mine to guide. I’m building the foundations of a future where we’re guaranteed to win. Your family won’t know what happened to you until it’s too late, and if you try to tell them?”

She smiled at him with serious, dead eyes. “I’ll kill you. And all of them. And everyone.”

Bentley breathed in a shaky breath. “Please-“

“I can see everything that’s going to happen tomorrow, the next day, the next day. And if I play my cards right, if I keep the Wayne’s in the dark, Batman and his whole team will be gone in a few short weeks. Days,” She spun around again like she was talking to herself, tugging at her hair like she was going kind of crazy. “I can see everything that’s coming and it’s all mine!”

Bentley’s heart was pounding out of his chest, and he breathed in shakily. “Charlie-“

“I’m not Charlie!” The Secret Keeper screamed, and suddenly, she had Bentley by the throat. She slammed him into a wall he couldn’t see, his toes barely brushing the ground. She was only inches from his face. “I’m not Charlie!”

Bentley gasped for air, tugging at her hand with both of his. Why was she so strong? “You… were.”

The Secret Keeper stared at him blankly for a solid ten seconds, silent, squeezing his throat. Her amber eyes went unblinking for so long they began to water. She was shaking. “Help me.”

Bentley tugged and scratched at her hand. “Let… go,” He gasped, struggling against her strength. “Pl…ease.”

“Help me,” She whispered, but it sounded like her voice was doubled. Bentley’s eyes began to blur from the lack of air. Someone popped out from behind The Secret Keeper — someone purple. Bentley saw that their hands were encased in metal capsules, chained to the ground by huge, thick chains. He blinked twice, and the image cleared. 

It was Charlie. The real Charlie, with blonde hair, with blue eyes, in the royal purple dress she wore the day she was turned into the Secret Keeper. She had a huge metal muzzle on her head that kept her mouth locked away like a dog. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face red from crying.

“Save me,”

In a literal flash of yellow lightning, Nico blipped into Bentley’s vision and slammed a metal fire poker into the Secret Keeper’s head like he was hitting a home run. The white room immediately turned back into the den, the voices faded, and Bentley hit the carpeted floor with a thump. 

He fell into a coughing fit, his hand floating up to his throat. He was shaking, he could feel it — and his heart was pounding out of his chest.

Nico dropped the blood-splattered fire poker with a clang. The Secret Keeper wasn’t there anymore. Had she vanished into thin air?

“Are you okay?” Nico questioned, grabbing Bentley’s arms and tugging him out of the floor. He was breathing really fast, too, and he touched various places on Bentley’s shoulders and head. “Did she hurt you? Is your throat okay? Where did she go? Did I kill her?!”

Bentley stayed silent, focusing on getting air in and out of his body. His throat was going to bruise — how would he hide that?

Nico pulled Bentley into him, hugging him tightly. “Where did she go?”

“I dunno,” Bentley mumbled.

Nico sighed. “That was so weird. Charlie, she…”

“You could see Charlie?” Bentley questioned, and he felt Nico nod.

“After you came downstairs, everything turned white and I saw her. Like, really her, before the Synchronizer. She told me that the Secret Keeper was attacking you,”

Bentley sighed, his mind struggling to keep up with everything. “But… what?”

Nico pulled away with a sigh, running a hand through his fluffy hair. “I don’t know. All I know is that I saw her, not the Secret Keeper, and she warned me.”

A moment of silence passed where they just stood there. Was Charlie inside the Secret Keeper, like a passenger along for the ride? Doing everything against her will? Was she trying to get out?

“We have to tell your dad,” Nico finally muttered, shaking his head. “This is insane.”

“No,” Bentley ordered, shaking his head urgently. “We can’t- we can’t tell anybody.”

Nico cringed, furrowing his brows, turning to leave the room. “She’s just trying to scare you into silence. We have to tell them.”

“No!” Bentley grabbed his shoulder and tugged him backwards. “We can’t. She’ll hurt them.” 

“We can’t just keep letting this happen!” Nico exclaimed, locking eyes with him. “She’s harassing you.”

“I’m not going to risk their lives. I’ve seen her kill people with one look,” He replied, exhaling heavily. He drew his hand back and looked down at the floor. “This is all my fault. The least I can do is stop getting other people involved.”

Nico blinked a few times. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true. Their life was fine before I got here,” Bentley muttered. He sighed and walked over to the couch, plopping down on it and running a hand through his hair. “I should just go back to my dad. This is what the whole war is about anyways.”

Nico said nothing, but made for the couch, sitting down beside Bentley. He could feel Nico’s eyes on him but he didn’t look up from his socks.

“I… I’ve seen… some memories. Of your father,” He said softly. “You can’t go back to that.”

Bentley sniffled. When had his eyes become so watery? “I’d rather go back to that than watch them suffer for me. I survived ten years of it.”

“You can’t do that. They love you here,”

Bentley groaned, dropping his head down into his hands. “This is a disaster. She was right. Everything would be better if I was just dead.”

The den fell eerily silent and still. After a long while of nothingness, Bentley glanced up at Nico, who was staring at him in a mixture of shock and despair, his ocean blue eyes gleaming with crystal clear tears. 

“Please don’t say that,” He whispered, almost inaudibly. A pang of guilt rang through Bentley at the sight of him, and he sighed.

Not a single thing that Bentley ever did went right, did it?

He cleared his throat softly. “Nico, I…”

“Stop. Talking. Just stop for a second,” Nico ordered, looking away and breathing deep, gathering his composure. He looked back at Bentley with glossy eyes. “The Secret Keeper is and has been tormenting you for weeks. Weeks she’s spent on you and the people around you. Ruining them to ruin you. And you’re letting her. You’re letting her ruin you.”

Bentley opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“You know what I see when I look at that? When I see her trying to keep you in this constant state of terror and anxiety and loneliness?” Nico questioned, a hand floating up to land on Bentley’s shoulder. “She’s scared of you.”

Bentley blinked. “What? No she’s not. She can kill me.”

Nico squeezed his shoulder. “They said in the video diaries we saw in that morgue that the whole goal of this operation is to destroy Batman — Bruce. Your family. Damian, Robin. Dick, Nightwing-”

Bentley’s mouth fell open. “You- I- what?”

“Don’t worry, Asten doesn’t know, just me,” Nico continued with a shrug. “It’s not that hard to figure out. If you look at the number and ages of the main superheroes in Gotham, they all line up with this family. Not to mention that Dick Grayson goes between here and Bludhaven, and so does Nightwing. And the connection between your father and the Secret Keeper and Batman — it just makes sense. Not to mention you look really awkward whenever we mention superheroes at all.”

Bentley exhaled. So, he put the whole family in danger, got himself kidnapped, lied about a billion times, and now his best friend knows Bruce is Batman. “Bruce is going to die.”

“I won’t say anything. Promise. Anyway, here’s what I was getting at-“ Nico moved his hands around in the air. “They could do this entire evil diabolical plan without involving you at all. They could go straight for the throat and take out Bruce and the family for vengeance and revenge and blah blah blah and never spend a second on you, but they’re not. The Secret Keeper is going through hell to keep you on your knees. You know why?”

Bentley blinked.

“Because there’s something in you that can beat them, and they know it,” Nico said. “They’re expending all this energy toward keeping you down when they could be using it on Batman and his crew. You’re not the same kid that bowed at his father’s feet and they know it.”

Bentley looked down. “But-“

“The Secret Keeper can see the future, and the only one she’s completely hellbent on keeping quiet is you.”

Bentley said nothing.

“And maybe you don’t want to tell your family. That’s fine. But I still believe that you can get the upper hand if you take it. You said it yourself, this whole war is about you. So climb out of the hole she’s trying to bury you in and end it,”

Bentley breathed in and out, glancing around the room. He could hear something moving, above them, in the ceiling, like water in the pipes. He could feel it pumping like blood in his veins.

“I might not be the best at using superpowers yet, but I’ll do anything you need me to do. We’re a team, and Asten is part of it too, okay? You’re not alone,”

Bentley swallowed thickly and nodded to himself.

How many ten year olds could say they’d started and stopped a war?

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun @xiaonothere

[sparkylurkdragon]

I tend to do about two-and-a-half to three drafts. Longer works have more drafting thought and outlining put into them, but they all tend to follow about this workflow:

Draft 0: I call it the zeroth draft because it's my version of the word vomit draft. Oftentimes it's just talking myself through the story, particularly if it's a longer one. This is where I slap down ideas in a kind of freeform vaguely outliney way.

Draft 1: Skeleton draft. The zeroth draft has been converted into a more coherent outline if it's a longer work. This draft is for barrelling forward and telling the entire story to myself. Clunky phrasing, stopping midsentence to hit enter a couple of times and rewrite the previous paragraph without deleting it, letting poetic bits of writing hang out in roughly the place they go but we'll figure out the exact timeline later, [brackets] around incidental stuff to research later, etc.

Rest Period: After the first draft is complete, I close the file and do not look at it for a period of time. For a one-shot, this might be a day or two. For a longfic, this might be a month. Enough to let my brain and the fic rest and marinate so that I can come back fresh foooor...

Draft 2: I use Draft 1 as an extended outline and rewrite the entire thing from scratch.

Yes, this is incredibly time consuming. But combined with the rest period, this lets me have a really good birds-eye view of the work and in general helps with revising clunky bits. How much actually changes between first and second drafts varies. For me, this is generally where the story gets most of its meat and connective tissue, so to speak: bridging scene gaps, inserting settings so the characters aren't talking heads in a void, [resolving brackets], and so on.

Rest Period 2: Again, after the second draft is done? It gets to sleep and marinate for a little.

Draft 3: This is where I do fine-tuned edits. This draft is usually broadly the same as Draft 2; at most I'll go in and rewrite the odd paragraph. I'll often feed the story into a text-to-speech program to help me at this point; this catches things like through/though typos and clunky sentence structure. This is also the draft where the thesaurus comes out in earnest.

At this point the story is usually ready, but sometimes I'll take one more rest period here, just to be sure.

Really, this is how I've always written, though before computers were so prevalent I would often do the zeroth/first drafts longhand. For me, it helps my work meet my own quality standards.

When writers refer to first/second/third drafts are they rewriting their entire work over again? I typically just read through a few times and make some changes as I go, not a full rewrite

It depends on the writer, but for the most part it's not a full rewriting from one end of the story to the other.

Most of the time, it's more "reworking" than it is 'rewriting." Finding a passage that doesn't flow correctly or realizing some event needs to come earlier or later in the story. Revising would also be a good term for the drafting process. Taking the original shape of what's been written and cutting a bit here or adding a bit there to get the end result that you're looking for.

I'm a one and done kind of writer, personally. First draft best draft 🤣 I don't have the patience for much beyond that (unless it's something I'm incredibly invested in). So I'll open the floor to the writers who take a more measured approach to things. How do drafts work for you?

[sugawaraxo]

COCKWARMING THE PRETTY SETTERS

warnings: definitely smut 

characters: tooru oikawa, tobio kageyama, kenma kozume, koshi sugawara

a/n: i’m taking request btw :) my inbox is open. also, this is kinda long so grab your popcorn haha

oikawa

 - oikawa is obsessed with you whether he wants to admit it or not

- which is wild because no one would’ve expected him to ever be more obsessed with anyone other than himself

- but here you are

- and he LOVES being around you 

- just being in your presence makes him all giddy and smiley

- though he does try to compose himself whenever you guys are around his teammates but usually fails 

-  he’s not obsessed in a weird or creepy way, but just enough for you to know that he’s all about you and only you

- and you love it

- and of course oikawa’s obsession with you rings no surprise that he’s obsessed with being inside you 

- as long as he’s close to his pretty y/n, he’s happy

the two of you had just finished a long and strenuous two rounds of sex and were more than ready for bed. but when oikawa got out of bed to get towels for the two of you to clean up with, you felt extremely empty. you were exhausted, that’s for sure. but a big part of you just wanted him filling you up again, even if nothing else happened. you pout, knowing that your attentive boyfriend would notice when he came back, which he did. 

“hm, what’s wrong pretty girl?” he asks softly as he starts to gently clean his mess off of your stomach with a warm towel. 

“i want you inside of me again.” you say in an almost whisper, a little embarrassed by the words that just left your mouth and he laughs lightly. 

“you’re so cute.” he says as he tucks a piece of hair away from your face and gives you a kiss. “but i’m so tired.” he finishes, then plops down on the bed beside you, big spooning you. 

“no, we don’t have to have sex again, i’m exhausted too. i just want you inside me.” you say shyly. you feel his dick twitch behind you and can’t help but smile a little, knowing you’re about to get what you want.

“oh, like cockwarming?” oikawa asks and you nod in response. “hm, ok. yeah, we can do that.” he smiles before kissing your forehead. he was already big spooning you so he was in the perfect position to just slip it in. he pulls down his shorts just enough so that his member could spring free, then pulls the panties that you were wearing under one of his shirts down just enough for him to have access to what he needed. he teases your folds with his tip a little bit, causing you to tense up. then he slowly pushes himself inside you, it not being too difficult with you still being wet from earlier. the two of you moan in unison, both sensitive from your previous interactions. once he’s fully in, he stays there and wraps his arm around your waist as he plants a soft kiss on your shoulder.

“does that feel good? is that ok?” he asks before pressing more soft kisses on your shoulder and your neck.

“it’s perfect.” you coo and he pulls you a little closer with the arm he had slung over your waist.

“goodnight princess.”

“goodnight oikawa.”

- you definitely have morning sex when you wake up

kageyama

- let’s be real here, he really doesn’t know what any kinks are

- he just learns what he likes and what he doesn’t like from you and waits for you to tell him if it’s a kink or not 

- you end up having to tell him that basically anything sexual can be a kink after he keeps asking you “is that a kink?” every time you two do something new in bed 

- you find his lack of knowledge on the subject adorable though, even though you constantly tease him about it 

- he honestly just goes with the flow and follows your lead in terms of sexual things

- not that he’s the submissive one, you just know more about sex so sometimes you have to give him extra guidance

- he doesn’t mind it though, he wouldn’t wanna learn it from anyone else but you

- and you just so happened to teach him his new favorite kink

you two are making out on kageyama’s bed. it starts off innocent at first but slowly progresses into a messier and more heated kiss. you’re on top of him, tugging on his hair while he grips onto your hips. you begin slowly grinding against him causing him to moan softly into your mouth. his sounds were always so pretty and always instantly made your core pulse. you continue grinding on kageyama, giving both yourself and him pleasure. but it isn’t enough. in one swift motion he flips you over so now he’s the one on top. without detaching his lips from yours, he pulls his member out of his pants and lifts up the skirt you’re wearing then slowly pulls down your underwear, revealing your wet core.

“pretty.” he mumbles before licking a teasingly slow and soft stripe up your folds. you moan at the sensation and shut your eyes in pleasure. he continues to please you with his tongue before inserting two fingers into you. it hurts a bit more than usual but you shrug it off because the pleasure outweighs the pain. he continues with this for a few minutes more before he can’t take it anymore and positions himself at your entrance. he slowly begins pushing himself in, but as soon as he’s all the way in, you yelp in pain.

“ow ow ow! stop!” you groan, and kageyama does as told.

“what’s wrong? s-should i take it out?” he asks, concern laced in his voice.

“no no, keep it in just let me adjust to it.” you say. the day before, you and kageyama had some hardcore sex. you had unintentionally somewhat intentionally made him jealous so that he would punish you, and oh that he did. but your poor pussy was suffering the consequences. 

“ok princess, i won’t move. just let me know when you’re ready.” he says softly and you smile at his sweetness. he starts kissing you again, this time more deep and passionate as opposed to the sloppy, heated kiss that got you here in the first place. you were slowly beginning to relax around your boyfriend while he was losing his mind trying not to bust inside of you. something about not moving but still being inside you, feeling you around him. the anticipation. it’s driving him crazy.

“oh no, i’m gonna cum.” he says shyly as he pulls away from the kiss and accidentally cums inside of you. he hides his face in the crook of your neck in embarrasment and you just giggle at him, as that isn’t the first time that’s happened. 

“is, is that a kink? not doing anything, just being inside you? because i think i have that kink.” he mumbles into your shoulder.

“it is actually, it’s called cockwarming.” you say as you gently stroke his hair, trying to relax your still clearly embarrassed boyfriend. 

“hm, well can we never do cockwarming again, that was embarrassing.” he sighs before finally removing his head from the crook of your neck and looking at you.

“i don’t think it was embarrassing baby, i thought it was cute. but if you don’t wanna do it again we don’t have to.” you reassure him and he blushes at your compliment.

“maybe we can do it again sometime then, but for now it’s time to get you cleaned up.” he says before picking you up over his shoulder and taking you to the bathroom. 

kenma

- anyone who knows kenma knows that he is always preoccupied with video games

- whenever he’s playing, it’s fairly difficult to get his attention

- as his girlfriend, you’ve somewhat learned to accept this, even though you would like more attention from your boyfriend

- but you take what you can get, knowing that’s just how kenma is and you wouldn’t ever wanna change him 

- but sometimes you get needy

- really needy 

- and kenma isn’t always the best at reading that

- so you take it upon yourself to get the kind of attention you’re craving from your boyfriend

kenma doesn’t really get flustered too often. but when he does, oh anyone in a ten mile radius can tell. the first time you saw him really get flustered was when he gave you his hoodie while you were out on a date. it had gotten colder than you expected so he gave you his jacket to keep you warm, and as soon as you put it on, the boy went red. he couldn’t even form coherent sentences at first and you thought it was the most hilariously adorable thing ever. ever since that day, you’ve worn his clothes whenever you wanted his attention; hoodies, sweatshirts, t-shirts, you name it. today is one of those days. kenma has been gaming all day in some sort of tournament and you’re beginning to get frustrated because of how badly you’re craving his touch, so you pull out the big guns. you put on one of his favorite hoodies, one that you’ve never worn before, and head into his gaming room. he’s sitting is his gaming chair deep in concentration, shooting at someone and talking to who you assume is kuroo on his headset. he doesn’t even notice you at first until you come sit in his lap, your legs resting on either side of his as you lay your head on his shoulder. 

“hi kitten.” he whispers away from his mic before placing a gentle kiss on your lips and you hum in response. you played with the hair at the nape of his neck for a little bit before your overwhelming feeling of neediness comes back. you lift your head from kenma’s shoulder, now somewhat blocking his view of his computer screen.

‘i want to feel you inside me’ you mouth to him. he hadn’t even realized what you were wearing until right then, and his cheeks blush bright red. he places a finger under your chin and uses it to pull you in for a kiss. “go for it.” he whispers to you as he pulls away, reverting his attention back to his game that he had forgotten about for a quick second. you easily slip his member out of the sweats he’s wearing and give it a few strokes to get him hard. you were wearing absolutely nothing under his hoodie in hopes that this would be the outcome, and when he notices that as he glances from you back to his computer screen every so often, he mumbles 

“dirty little kitten, this is exactly what you wanted hm?” 

“mhmm” you respond and he smiles.

you continue what you’re doing and position kenma’s tip at your hole before slowly sinking down on it. your breath hitches at the feeling of being filled up, while kenma clenches his eyes shut and bites his lip in order to hold back his moans. once he’s fully inside you, you lay your head on his shoulder again and just stay there.

“hm, that’s it? you just wanna cockwarm me?” kenma asks curiously. 

“mhmm. just wanted to feel you inside me, that’s it.” you say sleepily, slowly drifting as you shut your eyes. 

kenma can’t help but smile, “you’re adorable.” he says before planting a kiss on your cheek. you smile a small smile in return before dozing off on kenma’s shoulder, him still buried deep inside you. 

every so often you would move around in your sleep and kenma would have to bite his lip to hold back a moan so the friends he was playing with wouldn’t hear, but it was worth the risk because he loves just being this close to you, and you do too.

sugawara

- suga’s high sex drive really surprised you when you two first started dating

- his kinkiness surprised you too

- you thought he would always be very gentle and vanilla

- but you were very mistaken

- not that you’re complaining though

- he’s always open to trying new things

- so when you bring up the topic of cockwarming, he’s intrigued

“is that something you wanna try bunny?” he asks after you finish explaining to him what exactly cockwarming is.

“we don’t have to if you don’t want to, i just think it’d be interesting to try.” you shrug

“i agree.” he says, before leaning over to start kissing your neck. that’s your weak spot, so you take this as suga saying he wants to try right now. the two of you are currently on the couch, in the middle of watching a romcom but clearly that romcom has been forgotten as suga continues to make little love bites on your neck. you lift his chin to kiss him because you know if you don’t stop him now, he’ll cover your whole body in hickies. the kiss is soft, but passionate and you can feel yourself quite literally melting into it. somehow you end up straddling suga, still lost in the kiss. you suddenly notice a pair of familiar fingers making their way down to your most sensitive area. he teases you, rubbing his fingers over your pajama shorts, knowing you’re getting needy because of the way you’re starting to softly moan into his mouth. he takes this as a sign of you wanting more and breaks away from the kiss so he can take off your shorts and your underwear, with a little bit of help from you. once your bottom half is completely naked, he grins and begins kissing you again. the sensation of your bare core against suga’s sweatpants was teasing you, so you began moving your hips to get some friction. suga moans a little at your sudden movements and you can feel him getting harder. he pushes you up off of him slightly so that he can pull his sweats down, them ending up just hanging around his ankles. now both of your bottom halves are naked, and you’re staring at each other in anticipation.

“sit on it bunny.” suga instructs and you follow his orders, sitting down on his length and feeling every inch against your walls. that feeling when he first inserts into you will never get old. 

“mm, suga.” you moan. he instinctively thrusts after hearing your pretty noises, completely forgetting what you guys were supposed to be trying.

“no, don’t move.” you laugh at him and he blushes apologetically.

“sorry, i couldn’t help it. you’re just so pretty.” he apologizes and you melt.

“it’s ok suga, you’re adorable.” you smile. “i’m gonna turn around now, but keep you inside me and we’ll finish the movie just like this, yeah?” you say.

“yeah.” he nods in agreement. without pulling suga out of you, you turn so that you’re no longer straddling him but sitting in his lap with your back facing towards him, your face now facing the tv. you guys finish the rest of the movie exactly like this, you sitting on suga’s lap with his member deep inside of you and suga occasionally thrusting up into you just to get your reaction. 

[coreychick]

Chapter 21: Eye of the Storm

Part of the In the Dark Series: 18+ Smut & Story /Romance and Adventure Din X Fem!Reader Insert

Just a reminder, I do not post warnings, so if you have triggers, this may not be a story for you.

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A small mudhorn insignia, etched in silver beskar. It’s Din’s armor, there’s no doubt about that. The only question you’re asking yourself now is “Am I dead?” 

Did you die when that tower crushed your body? Is this heaven showing me the first thing it knows I’d want to see?

The static buzz echoing through your skull is clouded by a deeper tone. One you feel reverberating against your chest. On second thought, this can’t be heaven. Heaven wouldn’t be so uncomfortable, cold and hard against your cheek. The deep rumble of Mando’s voice wavers in and out, familiar and comforting, though you can’t distinguish the individual words. 

A gloved hand starts petting the back of your head. You focus on the feeling. Maybe this is heaven after all. Except now your body begins to ache- everything down to your fingernails hurts. Not heaven. In heaven there wouldn’t be pain, which means, not dead after all.  

The realization seems to reboot your brain, senses and coherent thoughts slowly come back online. You hear your name clearly this time- he must have been repeating it. You turn your head up and see the underside of Din’s helmet. There’s a one-inch strip of skin peeking through between the collar of his under armor and the dark shroud of the helmet. It’s probably the closest you’ve come to seeing his face. Your brain panics, quickly looking away. You place your cheek back on his chest. It’s then that you realize you are laying on top of him, his arms wrapped tightly around your body. Your breaths match his and you move in sync with the rise and fall of chest. 

“Are you okay?”

It’s the first sentence that your ears can fully comprehend. Are you okay? You try to recall what has happened. You remember the tower. It was falling, seconds away from crushing you. It was going to happen, no doubt in your mind. Only then there was a flash of silvery light and your body crumpling under the force of a moving freight train. Your eyes adjust, looking past the reflective surface of Din’s shoulder pauldron. In the background, you can see the tower and its structure, or at least what is left of it. It rests in a heap, a mountain of metal in the middle of the shipyard, a plume of smoke and debris hovering around its remains. 

You weren’t crushed by the tower, you were crushed by Mando. He had to have flown in with his jetpack a split second before the building met the cement. There couldn’t have been more than a few feet of clearance. Your brain puzzles it together. The sparks. Din had rolled, taking the brunt of the impact, the two of you skidding across the concrete field like a skipping stone over a lake. The speed at which he must have been traveling…no wonder you feel like you were hit by a train. 

Are you okay? No. No, I’m really not. 

“I’m okay…. Are you okay?”

Relieved to hear you speak, he breaths a barely audible “Thank You.” 

Cupping your head, he carefully rolls you off of his chest and onto your back. Hovering over you, he gently cups your cheek. “Are you hurt?” 

Everything hurts. “Nothing critical.” You put your hand over his and close your eyes, taking deep breaths that rattle your cage. Just having him here with you brings an instant calming effect. You open your eyes again and see that familiar black T staring down on you. You’d be content to lay with him for hours like this, given a different situation. But he brings you back to reality with an urgent , “We need to go.” 

Yes, you know this brief moment of peace is only the eye of the storm. 

“Halo!” you call out again. 

There’s a cloud of dust surrounding the wreckage making it difficult to see more than a few feet around you. 

“We need to go.” Mando says again. 

“I’ve got to look for him, I can’t just leave.” you say, fear increasing. 

He doesn’t like it, but he continues alongside you, searching through the rubble. 

He activates something on his helmet and scans the area. Heat signatures maybe? There were spot fires popping up everywhere. You know your time is limited. The tower collapse will draw the attention of everyone in a mile radius. 

You close your eyes and take another breath. You try to block out the sounds of burning debris and concentrate on what's left. You hear the thundering pump of your heart as it forces blood through your system. You take another deep breath and will it to slow, so that you can hear beyond it. You reach out with your senses, listening for him to echo something, anything back. A warmth floods over you, comforting and familiar. You don’t know how you know, but you just do. 

“He’s over there!” You begin running to the west, not sure how you know where to go, but you know he’s there. 

As you get closer, the cloud of dust lifts and you see Sin’s back. She’s down on her knees, leaning over something. 

“Sin!?”, you snap out.

She quickly looks back over her shoulder. Her eyes are red and blurry from crying. And now you can see why. She’s holding Halo’s hand. 

“Halo!”

“He….eyy Bunny. Was hoping you’d be halfway ‘cross the gal..axy by now.” He says, struggling with his words. 

“Shhh. Don’t talk. We’re gonna get you out of here.” 

Halo is laying on his back, his legs pinned from the thighs down. Atop him is what is left of the main structure of the control tower housing- thousands of tons of weight. It’d be impossible to lift with a crane. 

“Just hold on, we’ll pull you out!” 

“Nega-tive Bunny, it’s just not possible.” 

You know in your heart that it’s true, and likely Sin already tried. It was quite possible that putting him through the movements would send him into shock or that the pain would be unbearable. You look up at Mando. He doesn’t say anything- and that silence is enough to confirm it. You look at Sin. She’s rubbing gentle circles over the back of his hand. 

“We’ll get you out of here. Listen to me,” you say, refusing to accept that they have all given up hope so quickly. “We can take your legs…I know that sounds scary, but we can get you mods- lots of people have them now, you’ll be good as new in no time!” Never mind how exactly you would manage cutting his legs off and handle the bleeding and find a doctor willing to work on him. But maybe you could use your healing influence on him, at least holding him off long enough to find one, maybe get him to a bacta tank. 

“It’s not his legs.” Sin says. 

You search her face for meaning as tears begin to run down your cheeks. She nods to Halo’s shoulder where the blood stain under his shoulder has spread and darkened. You peel back the collar of his jacket and rip away at the top of his shirt to examine the wound. The puncture is wide and deep. The blood is no longer oozing but formed a black tar like consistency. The surrounding flesh looks corroded and decayed, almost like frostbite.  Deep black lines like lightning bolts fork out from the wound, stretching out and up his neck. 

“Van’s horns, “ Sin says. “He coats them in poison.” 

You look back at Halo and then understand. The black lines- poison spreading throughout his veins. Could your healing influence fix poisoning? You don’t know how exactly it works- this force- this power inside you, but somehow, you didn’t think so. When you had healed Din’s head, it had felt like pushing your body’s energy into his, like amplifying his own ability to heal and expediting the process. You could sense tissue knitting back together the way it would have on its own, given time- but instantly. You weren’t healing him, but rather giving his body the extra boost of energy, it needed to heal itself. With this amount of toxin, you don’t know how a body could eliminate it from the system. But you had to try.

“So much for Plan C., huh?”

“I can fix this. I can heal you.” you protest. 

Halo shakes his head ‘no’. 

Suddenly, laser blast fire cuts a line across the rubble in your direction- A new ship having located your positions. 

Mando rockets into the sky. The attacking ship circles around to make another pass. Mando hovers in the air like a piece of dangling bait on a line. What the hell is he doing? He looks like he’s playing chicken with an armed ship headed straight for him. At the last second, he jets up and over the ship, a narrow miss-too close for comfort. He shoots off his repelling wire, hooking the wing. The speed at which the ship is flying, yanks Mando violently, towing him behind. Mando reels in the wire, pulling him straight onto the top of the ship. The second his boots meet the surface, he pulls out a detonator. The pilot rolls the ship in an effort to shake the Mandalorian loose, causing Mando to drop the detonator. The rush of wind quickly grabs the device, carrying the weapon away. An explosion rocks the atmosphere mere feet behind the ship. Panicked, the pilot attempts another roll, this one causing an extreme g-force that threatens to dislodge Mando from his tether. Quickly, he slaps a second detonator onto the top of the cockpit and releases the leash, to fall away. A massive explosion rocks the ship overhead, hurtling it toward the black sea. After a few seconds of freefall, Mando’s jetpack comes back online. He comes down for an impressive landing that keeps him on two feet. 

Mando’s bought you a few minutes at most. You know there will be more. Halo is clearly thinking the same. 

“They’re playing your song Bunny, time for you to go.”

You adamantly shake your head. “No, I’m not leaving you,” You insist, voice growing more strained. Your throat begins to burn, a taste of the anguish to come, lodged in place. 

“Listen to me…” he says, locking eyes. “I’m already dead. Was dying before I left that tunnel. All that mattered was finding a way to get you out of here….and I’ve done that.” 

And you knew it. Knew that what he was saying was true. There was nothing you could do to save him now. 

He turns his head to look at Mando. “Take this,” he says, holding out something small in his fist. “You hit this the moment you’re in orbit.” Mando nods and accepts the small device, tucking it away. 

You squeeze his hand, refusing to accept what everybody else already has. 

“This is for you.” he says, sliding something else into your palm. He folds your fingers over it tightly, making sure you won’t let go. “It has the answers you’ve been looking for….an…and…it will help…help you find your way.” 

Your voice doesn’t want to work, choking back on the sobs. 

“Not like this.” You sputter out, shaking your head. This can’t be the last time you say your goodbyes. 

“It’s okay.” he says. 

“I’m so sorry.” you say. Sorry for coming here in the first place. Sorry for dragging him into this situation. Sorry for being angry all those years. Sorry for never considering that maybe he had a good reason to leave in the first place. Sorry that he was going to die like this.

“Don’t be. I’m the one that’s sorry.”

“You had good reason to le-…”

“No.” He cuts you off. “I’m sorry….I didn't tell you everything. But...it wasn't your fault. Was afraid…if you knew the truth…you’d hate me forever. Was going to tell you…the moment we were outta here….was gonna tell you everything.” 

He isn’t making any sense. His words sound disoriented, like his mind is drifting off to sleep. A glance down at his chest shows the black streaks under his skin are reaching out toward his heart. 

In the distance, the whirring of an engine can be heard, steadily growing closer. 

“Go! You have to go now.” he says, with a rallying moment of clarity. 

But your feet don’t move, you can’t bring yourself to abandon him here like this. 

“I can’t- can’t leave you like this.”

“I’m already gone. If you don’t make it out, then I’ve failed.” 

Of course, he knew exactly what to say to plant the seed of guilt in you. 

“I’ll stay with him,” Sin says. “Won’t leave his side.” She may have had some homicidal tendencies earlier, but one look at her face and you know it's the truth. She loves your brother, and she means every word. She won’t leave him. That knowledge provides a kernel of relief. That he would have someone who loves him here until he takes his last breath. He won’t be alone. Her words give you the strength to release his hand, but not to stand up. You know you need to go, to make sure his sacrifice isn’t lost in vain, but running away this time seems impossible. 

Mustering every ounce of strength, he has left in his body, Halo yells, in earnest command, “Mando! Take her, go now!” 

Without a second's hesitation, Mando halls you up against his chest and lifts off into the air. You watch as Halo and Sin shrink, becoming an indistinguishable speck amongst the burning debris. 

It isn’t long before you reach the Crest, located nearby with the back ramp already lowered. You land just outside the hull, quickly making your way into the back of the ship. Mando punches some controls into his vambrace, signaling the autopilot to take off. As the ship initiates its ascent, he takes out the device that Halo had handed him and uses his thumb to press the one and only button. A red light flashes. At first you aren't sure what it does. Perhaps a signal scrambler? Transmission interference? No. It’s something much bigger. 

Wailing citywide alarms begin to sound on repeat, a siren, signaling emergency on a scale level with imminent demise. You watch in stunned silence as the black ocean water begins to move in fluid motion. The sea level rises until it’s spilling over every wall and levy. The force behind the initial waves, strong enough to wash away the entire shipyard. It stretches beyond, sweeping away communication towers and power banks, with sparks until the lights flicker out over the city. The spaceport is next, water bombarding the ships, tossing them askew. 

The ocean floor can be seen now, along with what appears to be a secret network beneath. Fo’s treasure trove? Just like Halo had said. As far as distractions go, you can’t imagine better. Most of the ships at port were halfway underwater, making takeoff a real bitch, and with the location of Fo’s vaults exposed, hunters had a choice; They could either go after you, or go after Fo’s personal wealth. 

Mando’s fist hits the control on the wall, closing the ramp door before quickly moving up to the cockpit. By the time you fall in behind him, he’s already seated at the controls and navigating the ship away. Retreat is quick- the path previously calculated, the coordinates having already been saved into the ship's computer once. You watch as the ground falls behind, steadily giving way to the star stippled expanse of space.  

The days that follow blur into one another. You enter a cycle of emotional turbulence followed by a bitter numbness that leaves you quiet and lost. You had heard that there were five stages associated with grief after suffering a loss, but you had no idea they could be experienced in rapid succession. At first you refused to accept that Halo was gone. It simply could not be the case after so many years of searching. 

Then, you moved on to anger. Anger with yourself for pulling him into this. Anger at him for leaving you, once again. Anger that you only got a few hours with him after being apart for so many years. And anger at the Maker for cursing you with this thing- this magic inside you- the cause of all this strife to begin with. Magic that apparently you had inherited from your absentee father. Like, Happy Life Day kid, here’s a card- and oh yeah, I also threw in some dark magic, but I’m leaving you behind with absolutely no idea how to handle it. See you again in three to five. 

Next came bargaining and guilt. You’d torture yourself with scenarios of ‘if only I had done this instead’ and ‘how can I fix this?’ How can I bring him back?’. In the end, all paths lead back to the same road. There’s nothing you can do. There’s no way to go back and change the outcome. 

Now you simply feel…nothing. Sadness sits like a weight in your chest, stretching its limbs out, threatening to take root forever. 

At first you expect an angry tirade from Mando, or at the very least, an agitated lecture of ‘I told you so’ and ‘I knew it was a bad idea’- but that never happens. In fact, he doesn’t say anything about any of it. 

After leaving Hunter’s World and taking down two more ships that were hot on your trail, his first priority was to tend to your injuries. He cleaned up your scuffs, helped you wrap your ribs- which had been heavily bruised, and even gave you six stitches on the back of your head. He helped you wash the crusted blood and debris from your hair, and you were pretty certain he had applied some bacta spray while you were sleeping-despite your protests not to waste it. 

At night he curls up behind you, in the floor bed that he has completely remade. He slides under the quilt, pulling you in close, your back pressed up against his chest. His knees tuck up behind yours, your arm resting over his- holding you securely. You fit perfectly, like two puzzle pieces, your bodies designed and engineered to flawlessly lay beside each other. All the while, it might be the first time in your life you have ever been this intimately close to a man and not felt that there was at least some expectation of sex to follow. He just holds you. 

He brings you food when you need to eat. He runs the shower when you need to bathe. He gives you peace when you need to sleep. He gives you space when he senses you want to be alone and stays with you when you don’t. He strokes your hair when you cry, and he waits. Waits until you are ready to talk, lets you guide the conversation, careful not to push any limits. 

Time passes by- you have no idea how long, but it feels like your body couldn’t possibly produce any more tears. When you are able to function again without having to be reminded you need to eat, sleep, breathe- when your brain finally accepts that what happened did happen and that there is no going back, you know it’s time to make a decision. 

You reach into your pocket, pulling out everything inside. An envelope full of seeds. The data file that contains the audio conversation between Mando and Halo. And the chip Halo handed you at the very end- The one he said had the answers you had been looking for on it. 

You trace your fingers along the bumps and ridges of the envelope, feeling the texture of the tiny seeds contained within, before gently tucking it back into your pocket. Next, you stare at the two items left in your palm. The data chip would have to be read by a computer- something you’d have to do in the cockpit. But the audio file could be read from any holopad.

You head over to Mando’s armory and press the door release. The doors open, showcasing his impressive collection of weapons. You find what you are looking for at the bottom. You grab it, close up the armory and make yourself comfortable on your favorite seat- a small storage crate in the hull. You press the file carrier into the communicator, sparing a quick glance at the ladder in the direction of the cockpit, to make sure Mando was still up there and out of earshot. Confirming that the coast is clear, you turn the sound down nearly as low as it will go and hold it up to your ear. 

There’s a bit of static before you hear Halo’s voice. 

“Mando.” He says, keeping it light. 

Mando doesn’t respond verbally, but you can hear the distinct ting of his armor as he comes to a stand nearby. There’s a silent pause between them and you can picture the moment, both men taking their measure of each other. You can sense Mando’s hesitance, but whether it’s in letting you go because he feels something for you, or if it's feeling unsure if leaving you with Halo really qualifies as completing his mission, you can’t be sure. 

“She’s important to me.” Mando finally says- his modulated voice causing your heart to skip a beat. 

Your eyes trace back to the cockpit entrance as you continue to listen. 

“She’s important to me too.” Halo says, doing his best to sound reassuring to Mando. Your heart warms a little to hear your brother say something like that as well. 

There’s another pregnant pause, and you wish you could hear what thoughts were running through both of their minds in that moment. 

“Understand this.” Mando starts, his voice taking an authoritative and unyielding tone. “If anything happens to her- Anything. I will lay waste to this galaxy to find you. I will never. stop. hunting. You will spend every waking moment looking over your shoulder. And when I find you, you will pray to the Maker for a quick death over what comes next.”

Shivers run down your back; tiny goosebumps break out over your arms. You’d never heard Mando quite like this before. His voice was set in stone. This was a promise- a declared verbal contract. There were no idle threats being made. This would happen. 

“If anything happens to her… I won’t hide. I’ll wish for you to find me swiftly and welcome what comes with open arms.”

A pang echoes across your chest. Another promise- weighed, measured and delivered. 

“And, I want to thank you Mando- for what you did for her. I know what you gave up saving her, and I’m grateful for it. I’m in your debt. If there’s ever anything-”

“Just keep her safe." he cuts off. "Help her find her way.” 

You hear Halo take a deep breath. “Ya know, think I had you pegged wrong Mando. Bet if you weren’t wearing that helmet, you’d be looking at her the same way she looks at you.”

And how exactly do you look at Mando? Were you that transparent? Way to call me out like that big brother. 

You assume the rest of the exchange takes place with a series of masculine head nods or something, because the transmission cuts out after that. 

You listen to it one more time, before extracting the file and putting it back in your pocket. 

How does Mando look at you? He did come back, after everything. You’ve been so consumed dealing with the aftermath on Hunter's World that you hadn’t even given any thought on why Mando came back, or how he found you- Saved me again.

He came back, but why? Doesn’t matter really. You realize after these past months, that Mando is the one constant. The one thing you can count on. He does come back. Maybe the reason why doesn’t matter. He may not love you in a romantic sense, but you are important to him. He cares.  

Call it what you want. A distraction from reality? The unexplainable horny lingerings that follow a brush with death? An intimate way of expressing gratitude. Whatever it is you are feeling, it couldn’t possibly be a deep desire to feel a close connection with the man. No, it definitely isn’t that.

But whatever it is, you are suddenly overcome with the desire to do something you haven't done with him before. Something you had already added to your list of regrets and missed opportunities when you thought you’d never see him again. 

Damned if I let the opportunity slip past me again. 

Mando is right where you expect to find him, rooted to his pilot’s seat, leaned back with his hands behind his head. He straightens up, turning his chair, surprised to see you out of bed. You should have come up to the cockpit days ago. 

Though you’ve made a few memories that you’re fond of in the hull over the past months, it’s not a particularly cheery atmosphere for digging oneself out of a depression. The cockpit is small, sure, but the window has an impressive one-hundred-and-eighty-degree view of the galaxy. There might be days filled with little more than the pitch black of space, but there were also days with stunning views of planets, mystic mountains and prismatic nebulas. Currently, the view boasted a blanket of black velvet speckled with tiny pinpricks of light and a far-off pinwheel galaxy of blues and oranges. 

“Wow. Beautiful, isn’t it?” You say, admiring the view. 

“Beautiful. Yes.” Looking only at you, he answers in a sleepy bedtime sort of rasp that reminds you exactly why you came up here. 

“Did I wake you?”

“No.” he says, clearing his throat a little. 

You perch yourself on the edge of the passenger seat.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah, I think I am.”

“How’s your head?”

“Haven't had any complaints.” You cringe the second the corny joke escapes your mouth. You tended to say stupid shit when you got nervous, and yeah, propositioning Mando after the turbulent days you’ve just had, makes you completely fucking nervous. What if he judges you? Based on his stone cold silence, that was indeed exactly what he was doing.

“Uh, yeah. That was my really bad attempt at a joke- My head is fine, it doesn't hurt at all.”

“Good. And your ribs?”

You absently rub your hands over them. 

“A little sore, but definitely better.”

He nods. “Good.”

And you awkwardly nod in return, a slight bite on your lip. You struggle to formulate the right words. Uh, hey Mando? Would you mind whipping out your junk and letting me just go to town on you?

Thankfully, he gives you the perfect opening instead. 

“Well, just let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

“Actually…” you say, gathering all the courage you can. “There is something.”

“Name it.”

“There’s something I’ve wanted, and if it’s out of line, or you don’t want to…” you begin rambling.

“What?...” he says lightly, relieved to hear you sounding a little more like yourself. “Just say it.”

Just say it. 

“Remember that bad joke i just made?” 

His head makes a barely noticeable tilt, but he doesn’t say anything.

You slide off of the chair and onto your knees, gently placing your hands on top of his thigh pauldrons. 

“I want to know your taste.”

“You…?” he sounds a little confused. 

‘Yes, your taste. I know it must seem weird, the timing- whatever. But I just want to feel something good right now, and if I’m being honest, walking away from you the other day, and not knowing exactly what you taste like, what you’d feel like, sound like, coming undone in that way- it would've been one of my biggest regrets. It would’ve haunted me forever. What I want right now, is to make you feel good.” 

DIN

Holy fuck. That’s all I can think. All rational thoughts leave my brain the moment she says she wants to know my taste. Instantly, my dick goes rock hard. But nothing new there. I’m one big walking hard on whenever she is near, whenever we touch, when I catch a trace of her scent, hell- when I fucking think of her. That’s what she does to me. Draws the blood out of my brain and sends it straight down to my dick.

These past days, it’s taken more strength than I knew I possessed, to keep from acting on the impulse to touch her. Fuck, I was nearly about to take myself in hand right before she walked in- something I’ve had to do a lot, as of late. I’ve had to walk around the crest with my hard-on tucked up under my belt like a pubescent youngling trying to hide his first boner. 

After our near miss on Hunter’s World, I’ll I’ve wanted to do is lay her down on the bed and ravage her every way I can think of. To mark her, claim her. I can’t explain it in any rational way, but it’s almost like if I can fuck her long enough, hard enough- it will somehow protect her from any danger. She would be mine and I wouldn’t have to worry. 

I came so close to losing her. To see that building coming down, to know she was in its path. My heart fucking plummeted. There was no time to think. I was either going to get to her in time, or we were going to the manda together- because that’s what we do. We save each other- or we go down together. 

The moment we were clear of the crash, the moment I felt her chest rise and fall with breath, I had never been so thankful in all my life. As a Mandalorian, I don’t subscribe to the idea of the one, all mighty maker, but in that moment, I didn’t fucking care. I whispered a silent thank you with my whole soul, to whoever was listening. The Oversoul, the Maker, or ancient gods of generations passed- I didn’t care how or why, I was just thankful. She was in my arms, and she was alive. 

After that, there was an unexplainable need to take care of her. I was so grateful that she was alive and breathing that I didn’t care about anything else. I just want to be with her. Hold her when she wants me too- but damn if it isn’t a double-edged sword.

Holding her at night, knowing she’s safe in my arms, brings deep satisfaction. It’s the only time when things feel right, make sense. It’s also a special kind of torture. Feeling the softness of her skin, the natural scent of her body, the way she feels pressed against my chest- it calls to me. It’s dangerous. I find myself resenting the helmet- the barrier between us. At night, in the pitch black of the hull, I remove it. But when it’s time to wake, I find myself hesitating more and more to put it back on. 

I don’t think there’s anything in this galaxy I wouldn’t do for her if she asked. And right now, she’s asking to taste me? 

I’ll give you whatever you want. 

Fuck. She is good. Her pretty mouth, so hot, so wet for me. And Maker, that tongue! She is expertly sucking me into submission, and something tells me she knows it. There’s a light in her eyes, a quiet confidence that is so fucking sexy. She looks up at me, my big cock thrusting past those swollen lips, her fist squeezing my shaft, just below the head, making for some amazing friction. 

For a second, I worry that my helmet isn’t on, because I swear, she’s looking me dead in the eyes, and suddenly my cock somehow gets even harder. Fuck, she can’t possibly know how beautiful she is. 

YOU

Ok, so you have given a few blowjobs in your life, it’s not like this is the first time, but somehow this feels completely different then you’ve ever experienced. Without a doubt, it’s the first time you’ve ever felt pleasure from the act of giving one. With your previous partners, it had kind of always felt like a chore. You’d find yourself in your head asking how much longer til this guy blows his load? My jaw is starting to hurt. But not with Din. You were turned on the moment he started removing his belt. The sight of his arousal, the iridescent drop of liquid temptation on the tip of his dick, before you had even touched him- was a sight to behold. The man was fucking gorgeous as far as cocks went. Large, hard and mouthwatering. 

You begin by getting his shaft wet, running your tongue up and down each side, painting every thick inch with saliva, until he iss nice and slick. Then you take one long and languid lap at the tip, your eyes practically rolling back in your head at the deep rumble of pleasure that comes from his chest when you do. The sight of you taking that first earthy taste of his precum makes him groan. His dick bobs, begging for you to take more. You obey by taking him in hand and run the head of his cock over your mouth, to paint your lips. 

“Fuuuuck.” he groans at the sight, his voice so deep and rumbly. 

He caresses your cheek before grabbing your chin, gently tugging with the pull of his thumb. He wants more and you are going to give it to him. 

You shamelessly plunge his cock into your mouth, lavishing your tongue around it as you suck. You use your fist to increase the sensation of depth, squeezing and stroking with long pulls. He’s so big, so thick, your fingertips can’t meet around him. He moans again and the sound of his pleasure spurs your own desire. You’re wet between the legs, bound to be drenched by the time you are done. It’s hard not to get distracted and divert one of your hands down below to take care of the ache that’s sprung to life, but you need this- need to give this to him. And not just to make him feel good, but because you have feelings- strong feelings that are demanding an outlet. 

You keep sucking. He begins thrusting his hips upward to plunge deeper into your mouth, his bare hands gripping the arm rests of his pilot’s chair with white knuckles. The sight of his skin, his ungloved hands, makes your pussy clench. Oh what you’d love to do with those big hands. Another time. 

“Not going to last.” he says with gritted teeth, as if he’s been fighting off coming too soon.

You didn’t want this to end. His moans, the sounds of his pleasure and knowing that you are the one responsible for it is some new kind of lust inducing drug. You are high, fucking floating on cloud nine. Making him feel this way, giving this to him and seeing how he reacts to your touch, could become addictive. Nothing had ever made you feel this powerful before. Not stopping the mudhorn. Not healing a wound -potentially with your mind powers. This. Watching Din come unhinged from pleasure. This is power- and it feels fucking amazing. 

You keep hard on the suction, giving up long strokes with your fist for shorter ones concentrated just below the crown. You look up at his visor, imagining an expression that matches the cadence of his growls. Somehow, he grows even harder, his balls pulling up tight. 

“So close, ner ‘atin girl.” he groans.

With your fist pumping and your mouth delivering wet hot suction, you take a last few greedy pulls, freeing one hand to cup and massage his balls. His helmet falls back, his spine arches and he roars -fucking roars- in that modulated rasp. His hands grip the arm rests so tight, you worry he might break the damn things off. And then his cock is pulsing, delivering jet after jet of hot cum down the back of your throat. You swallow it down, content to wait until you’ve wrung every last drop from his body. He’s earthy and a touch metallic, and he’s fucking perfect. 

There’s a short silence after Mando tucks himself back into his pants. You watch with appreciative eyes as he struggles to put his still thick member away. Once secured, he says “What do we do now?”. Though you’d love to relieve some of the sexual tension that sucking down Mando’s cock had filled you with, you’re equally distracted by the mental weight of the chip in your pocket. You pull it out, holding it up in front of you.

“Now? Now we find out what’s on here.” you say, handing it to Mando.

He takes it from you, looking down at the chip, rolling it between his fingers.

“You sure?” 

He’s sweet to ask, and it occurs to you that he probably wants to know just as badly as you do, but he’s offering you a choice- not forcing it after the emotional ride you’ve been on. 

“I’m sure. We can’t keep floating out here in the middle of space without a destination. Maybe there’s something on there that will sway our decision. 

Our decision. Us. Together. 

He nods, turning in his chair and loads the data chip into the internal computer. You sidle up next to him, your shoulders brushing as you lean in closer to the console. Your eyes scan the screen as you wait for the computer to process the data. Though you think he’d be just as interested in the files, you can feel his gaze lingering on your face. 

“You’re the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever seen.” he says matter of factly. 

You flick your gaze back to his visor, unsure if you had just heard him right. 

“You slay me.” he adds. 

You’re stunned silent by the admission. Your heart flutters and your stomach does a little somersault, while your face warms with a rush of blood. Nobody had ever said anything to you like that before. If it weren’t for his helmet, you’d grab him by the neck and plant your mouth down on top of his. You desperately want to kiss him- but that damn helmet. 

You struggle to land on an appropriate verbal response, when the computer beeps, indicating the files are ready for viewing instead. He relieves you of the burden by turning his gaze back to the screen, and just like that, the moment has passed. 

Multiple data files show up on the screen. One by one, you begin siphoning away. You discover a number of credit lines, complete with their codes and passwords. Turns out Halo was pretty loaded financially. It occurs to you that as the next of kin, the credits are yours now. You’d have enough to pay Mando back for all the fuel he’s burned traveling around with you in tow and replace the weapons that have been lost or damaged. You can even pay for ship repairs and still have enough left over for a fresh start somewhere. A pang of guilt echos through your chest at the thought of spending Halo’s credits, despite knowing that he’d want you too. At least if you were going to spend it, you would be glad to be able to pay Mando back for all he’s given up so far. 

“Looks like I'll be able to pay you back now.”

“You don’t have to do that; you don’t owe me anything.”

“I owe you everything.” You say with a quick glance and continue scrolling through the files. 

“There,” he says, pointing out a map file. 

You tap on it, and the galactic grid pops up on the screen, with a small red indicator on it. Mando zooms in and a linear readout of what looks like a moon or a planet appears on the screen. 

“Tython.” Mando says. “Appears to be a terrestrial planet located in the deep core.”

Tython? You had never heard of it.

“Do you think that’s where Halo was taking me? Do you think that’s where the jedi are?”

Mando taps the screen a few more times.

“Strange. The atmosphere is breathable, the terrain seems hospitable, yet it says here, that it’s uninhabited.” 

“Uninhabited? And the deep core is New Republic territory. The Empire wouldn’t be there, right? Might be a good place for jedi to hide?”

“Maybe.” He says reluctantly. 

“Or…” you suggest, “We go to Trask, take the bartender on Lahsbane at his word, and hope that the Mandalorians are still there?”

Mando silently considers it. You’d bet his instinct is telling him to seek out his brethren for help.

“What Mando? What’s wrong?” 

“Trask is here.” He says, pulling up the galactic map. He zooms in on the small moon. “It’s not far from Tatooine. I’m reluctant to take you back into the territories where I know they’re still looking for us. 

Good point. A decision needs to be made. Tython and Trask are nearly the same exact distance from your current position, but in opposite directions. 

“What are you thinking, Mando?”

“I’m leaning towards Tython.” He says, surprising you. 

“Best case, we find Jedi. Worst case, we find an uninhabited place to lay low for a while.” 

You nod in agreement. Laying low for a while sounded like an excellent idea. Your mind stretches back, recalling those weeks on Sorgan- the time spent getting to know one another, of peace and relaxation. 

“Tython it is.” you say.  

You flick your hand over the screen. There’s only one unopened file left, and it appears to be in holo format. You tap the file and Mando’s Holo display pops up over the console. The blue and white image flickers in and out of display. 

Two men face each other. One tall, lean with broad shoulders, wearing a dark hood that obscures much of his profile. The other, not quite as tall, and younger. An adolescent Halo of about fifteen or so. 

You realize the hooded man is familiar. Having seen him only a handful of times growing up, your adult brain could no longer recall the details of his appearance. Looking at him here, you can see that he looks much like Halo, only bigger in size. 

“My father.” you say to Mando, who is also watching intently. 

The two appear to be arguing, but you can’t make out the words. 

“Is there any sound?” you ask, watching the heat of their body language intensify between the two. 

Mando fiddles with a dial. 

“No audio. Looks like the file is corrupted.”

You lean in closer, wishing you had the ability to read lips. The quality of the hologram is poor. The static is high, and the images continue to waver. It appears to be surveillance footage from your mother's home computer. 

Halo’s stance becomes more aggressive as he leans forward, toward your father- who seems to remain fairly calm, his arms folded over his chest. But his legs remain wide, ready for anything. 

“I remember this.” you say. “They were arguing over me. My father wanted to take me with him.”  Strange that you had even considered it. At first you did want to go with him. To explore new places, see new things. Best of all, your father wanted you to come with him. For the first time in your life, he was showing an interest in you, and despite the man being little more than a stranger to you and your brother, your seven-year-old heart desperately wanted to be loved by this man. He had said you had “abilities”, and he had seemed very impressed. Had anything felt as good as hearing those words come from him? Why oh why, did you crave that attention from him? 

“I wanted to go with him. But then, he said I’d have to leave Halo behind, and I wouldn’t be able to see him again.”

You remember that feeling of panic at hearing that proclamation. You had to choose. A life of adventure, traveling the galaxy with the man you had always dreamed was out there doing important things. He must have been, or else why would he have left you both behind? But that would mean giving up Halo. Your brother. The boy who was more responsible for raising you than your mother or father had ever been. My best friend. 

Your chest squeezes as you recall the panic that being forced to make that decision caused. It had grown harder and harder to breathe. It felt like the world was closing in on you. 

Halo was holding his ground, refusing to let your father take you, while your father diplomatically tried to explain why it would be in your best interest for you to go with him. You began to hyperventilate, unable to choose between the two. Why couldn’t he take you both?  

Halo’s body language was growing more intense. He looked like a coiled rattlesnake, ready to strike. He balled up his fists as the arguing escalated. Suddenly, Halo springs forward, throwing a wild punch at your father’s jaw. You had to give the lad credit, he showed no restraint despite your father’s added strength and size. He landed a few good blows, but you got the distinct impression that your father was toying with him. Your suspicions are confirmed, when Halo’s entire body goes flying backward against the wall. Somehow, he remains there, pinned in place, with several feet between him and the ground. Your father stands straight with his arm extended outward. He slowly begins to close his fist as if he’s squashing an invisible beer can in his grip. Your brother’s hands fly to his throat, frantically scratching at an invisible force. The expression on his face is desperate as he struggles to find air. 

This? This is the man you had been so forlorn over? -A man wielding some mystical cosmic force over a young boy who was only fighting to keep his family together? The thought is revolting. You instantly feel shame, that for even one second, you had considered leaving your brother behind. 

No sooner do you think it, than the young, seven-year-old version of yourself appears at your father’s side. You yank and pull down on his free arm, clearly begging your father to release his hold on your brother. The light in Halo’s eyes grows dim, his struggles beginning to waver. 

Though cloaked, you can see the expression on your father’s face as well. He seems more intent on proving some unknown point or establishing his dominance over your brother than listening to your pleads of mercy. 

Your heart begins to race as the feed flickers in and out again. You know without a doubt, that whatever happens next, is what set the course for your life. Is this where I become a monster?  

Your younger self releases her grip on your father’s sleeve and pulls out a knife from the back of her waistband. You remember the knife. The same one you had used to skin rabbits and gut fish with. The one your brother had given you and taught you to use, when you had spent so much time in the woods together. With a last look, you see Halo’s struggles cease, his eyelids falling closed. Without another thought, you plunge the knife into the back of your father’s neck. 

He falls harder than a bantha with a tranquilizer dart. Your brother follows, crumpling into a heap on the floor. You run to him straight away, leaping over your father’s legs in the process. You reach Halo and grab him by the shoulders, violently trying to shake the life back into him. 

Your father twitches and writhes on the floor, alive but unable to get back on his feet. A large puddle of blood begins to pool on the ground beneath his ear. Still alive. 

It’s written on your young face- the disappointment in the man, and the shame you felt for trusting him. In that exact moment, you know, somehow, in your gut, despite no evidence of such things, that you can save one of them. It’s unexplainable, but your instinct screams at you to thrust your life-force into one of them. There’s a fleeting second of struggle to make a decision. You are once again faced with choosing between the two, only this time, your heart calls out in answer. 

You watch as the young girl you know is you, puts her small hand over her brother’s chest and closes her eyes. Your father struggles to breath, but his eyes remain laser focused as he watches his daughter wield her power to save her brother. The look on his face is indecipherable. Betrayal? Admiration? 

Halo’s chest begins to move, his eyes fluttering open just as yours close. So that’s what it looks like when I use my influence. You didn’t look like a monster. You looked scared and desperate before passing out.

Halo rouses, taking in the scene before him. He stands up tall, pulling your limp body into his arms. He walks forward, stopping just an arm’s length in front of your father, who is slowly bleeding out on the ground. He says something as he stands over him.

Present you curses under your breath, wishing so badly that you could hear what he was saying.

Something flashes over your father’s eyes, and for a brief second, you think it might actually be regret. 

Halo steps over your father’s body and heads toward the door. He stops next to a small side table with a burning lantern and kicks out with his booted foot. The lantern shatters on the floor, spraying liquid fuel all over the room. Flames erupt immediately, catching quickly on the nearby textiles. Halo leaves from the view of the surveillance footage, with you in his arms. 

You expect the holo projection to cut out after that, but it continues for an agonizing moment as you watch the flames spread across your childhood home. Mando leans forward, intent to turn off the holo, and save you the sight of watching your still- technically alive- father burn to death. You halt his reach with a hand over his forearm. 

“Wait.” Just as he’s about to hit the kill switch, your Mother runs into the room. She throws herself down on your father’s body. Halo appears again, arms empty, likely having set your unconscious body somewhere safe. He shouts at your mom, trying to pull on her arm, coaxing her to escape and leave your father behind. The flames spread farther, engulfing everything in the small space. Halo pulls the collar of his shirt up over his nose and mouth, choking on the smoke. He tries again to persuade her to leave, but she yells something at him in response. She refuses to abandon your father’s side. Halo retreats again, narrowly avoiding a section of collapsing roof. The scene plays out for several more seconds until the roof completely caves in and the holo goes blank. 

You stare into the blank space a moment, absorbing all that you had just seen. There’s temptation to play it back again, but you know you could watch it a thousand times and the outcome will always be the same. You're liable to drive yourself crazy, debating the “what ifs” and “if onlys” on constant repeat. What if I had spoken up sooner? If only your father hadn't done what he had. 

“Do me a favor, Mando…delete that. I don’t ever want to see it again.” 

The hull is pitch black aside from the glowing green indicator light on the carbonite chamber, but it’s too dim to cast anything into view. Were you alone, Mando would have lit a small lantern for you, but right now you were curled up against his chest on the floor bed, and so you had left it pitch black so that he could take his helmet off. 

He’s warm and comforting and smells divine as he strokes your hair, commenting on the softness. You remain quiet, staring into the dark, your thoughts consuming and making it impossible to contemplate closing your eyes. 

Your silence must worry him, because he finally addresses the glaring elephant in the room. 

“It’s not your fault. He didn’t give you any other choice.”

“I know.” you say. And it’s true. There wasn’t a choice. It was, save your brother the only way you knew how, or watch him die. There was no choice. Under the exact same circumstances, you would do it again, a hundred times over. 

“Are you upset that your brother didn’t tell you?” 

You thought about it for a moment. “I can see why he didn’t. He probably feared that if I knew his role in what happened that night, I’d blame him for everything. I don’t think he wanted to take that risk when he was trying to convince me to go with him, and I believe what he said- that he had planned to tell me everything once we were off of Keyorin.” 

“It’s okay to be mad at him…if that’s what you’re feeling. It doesn’t mean that you don’t care for him.” 

“I’m not. Not mad at him, I mean. He was just a kid protecting what he cared about, same as me. I’m mad at them . Mad at my father- for obvious reasons. But mad at her too . She was faced with the same decision I was. It was him or us….and she chose him. What kind of parent doesn’t put their children first?” 

“I’m so sorry.” he says, pulling you closer. “It shouldn’t have been that way.” 

You don’t know whether or not Din had ever been in love before. Neither one of you had ever broached the subject of past relationships. For one, you’d get terribly jealous at the thought of him with anybody else, but also, that seemed like a conversation more appropriate for a couple, and you weren’t a couple. You were…. who the hell knows anymore. But despite this, you knew one thing for sure. Din had been loved by his parents. They had given their lives to save him, so albeit for a short time in his life, he did know what love was.

“It’s ok.” But it wasn’t.

“There’s something else eating at you, what is it?” Maker, how did this man know you so well? 

“I’m mad at myself.”

“Why? You did the right thing. You made the right choice.”

“I know. I don’t regret that part. I’d do it just the same, all over again.”

“What then?”

“For years, I hated him.”

“Your father?”

“No- I mean, yes- but no. I mean my brother. I hated him for abandoning me. I thought he chose to leave me behind and run. All these years, I’d resented him, blamed him for leaving. But he didn’t run away. He gave up everything, to protect me….and I’d hated him for it. He didn’t deserve that.”

“You were just a youngling. You couldn’t have known.” 

A hot tear falls down your cheek. Mando rolls you off of his chest and onto your back. You can’t make out the features of his face, but you know he’s leaning over you, resting on his elbow. 

“I wish I could tell him I’m sorry. I wish I could tell him ‘ Thank you ’ for fighting for me.”

“He knows.”

The idea, that Halo might be out there somehow, watching over you, gives you comfort. Another tear slides down your cheek, but you manage not to turn into a blubbering mess somehow. 

“What if all the jedi are like my father? What if I am?”

Din’s body stiffens a little, but then he leans down to kiss your tear-streaked cheek. 

“You’re not.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I know you. You’re nothing like the man I saw. He took advantage of his power and used it on someone weaker than he was. You’re not like that- you would never. In fact, I’ve only ever seen you use it for good.”

His words soothe you, warmth blooms in your chest…and lower. 

“What if the jedi are like him? What if that is their way?”

He pauses giving kisses on your cheeks, his lips absorbing your tears, and considers your worry.

“I have to believe that there are more like you- good like you. And if they aren’t…” he pauses. “I won’t let anything happen to you. You know that right?” 

You take a deep breath. “Yes, I know that.”  

His lips move to your mouth. You taste the salty remnants of your tears on his lips, as he moves over you, planting himself between your legs. He presses his length, hard and hungry against your wet cunt. Your fingers rake furrows through his hair as you pull him in closer and deepen the kiss. 

“I forgot to say Thank you. Thank you, Din... for coming back for me.”

He leans his forehead in and rests it against yours. 

“I told you- I will always come for you.” 

And that’s about as close to "I Love You", as you could ever hope for. 

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter / All Chapters

A/N: So, yeah. That chapter was an emotional rollercoaster of ups and downs. Are you still here with me? I can't believe we only have a few chapters left to go. As always, hearts, reblogs and comments are much appreciated.

Requested tags: I'm copying tags from my last chapter, but bad news. I lost access to my former taglist, so if you want to be on the new one, please fill out a request here: Taglist Request

Faithful readers: @mandosmistress @eyeswidecovered

@starwars-thirst @michi-reads @cassiopeia @littlemisspascal

@wildmoonflower @thisshipwillsail316 @hillelsandwich

@spideysimpossiblegirl @gallowsjoker @javierpinme

@luxmundee @literallydontlook @icanbeyourjedi @middlemichi

@yeetusfetus3000

#pornwithplot #Smutwithstory# slowburn #enemiestolovers #makingupabunchofshitaboutspace #the mandalorian #fanfic #mandalorian x reader insert #din djarin

[usaghinanami99]

Urgh, yeah, that may seem like a small difference at first glance, but those two sentences really do convey different meanings, and one of them outright goes against the very basis of Takeuchi's worldbuilding... The misogyny shown by the anime's translation choice (having to translate the exact same original Japanese line as the manga's translator, so with even less excuses) is appalling, but it wouldn't be the first time the Viz version pulls off something super in line with liberal-leaning political correctness: I've read comments from English fans stating that the new redub of the old anime series has censored some homophobic comments made by the characters - which is hilariously the opposite of what the first dub did, and goes more towards a line I personally agree with, but I still deem it wrong to rewrite the past like this. But the worst has to be how the Viz English dub of the Sailor Stars season has characters outright use "they" pronouns for the Three Lights/Starlights (even when there's only one of them I mean, lol), which is an outright case of rewriting history since the anime was written and is set in a period when non-binariness hadn't been invented yet and certainly was not on anyone's radar in Japan, not to mention how it's very clear that the three of them undergo an actual, physical sex change when they transform (which we obviously know goes against Takeuchi's lore and worldbuilding but alas), not that they've got some sense of inner gender identity. Please keep in mind that I'm just reporting second-hand accounts though, since I've never watched the anime in English, either original or redub (though I have listened to the Dic soundtrack, which I appreciate far more than Arisawa's annoying BGM, lol), and I'm not even a fan of the old anime regardless of language, so please take these statements with a grain of salt. 😅 But I guess that "artistic liberties" like this are what happens when you give too much freedom to localisation agencies, and in the specific case of the English language it's been almost a constant, going through the Dic dub of seasons 1-2, the Cloverway dub of seasons 3-4, the Viz redub of seasons 1-5 and the Viz dub of Crystal 1-3... a constant that's been broken with the Netflix dub of Crystal 4, where the Japanese supervision upon *all* foreign language versions was so tight that it brought us this atrocious result: https://twitter.com/NJ_/status/1400346635935305728 What can I say, I'd much rather go for heavy creative liberty to foreign localisation - even if they come up with crazy and frankly pathetic results like the English ones mentioned above or the Italian dub of Sailor Stars - than having to witness this disgrace. Here's hoping that Crystal 5 will be granted decent, professional adaptations instead of following the trend set by its predecessor. 😓

-Insert rant here about how SM fans obsessed with political purity pretend that Takeuchi is a gendie like them ignoring all proofs to the contrary and treat disagreeing with this ideology like a mortal sin... But then they turn around and ignore all the little signs that Takeuchi is borderline a pa*do apologist if not outright fan.- I keep on giving them the benefit of the doubt because these signs are all in the form of little details that only someone who's researched Naoko Takeuchi's life and times very deeply and extensively could ever be aware of, so it's realistic to think that a portion of fans might be genuinely unaware of them... But if they were more coherent in their ways, the more knowledgeable fans would spread this information everywhere to cancel Takeuchi and claim that Sailor Moon is now theirs to own, instead of pretending this stuff doesn't exist and keeping the rest of the fandom in the dark. But I guess being a borderline supporter of paedop*rnography is not so heavy a sin as being a feminist in their mind. 🤢

I miss the days when the peak of PC-related discussion in SM spaces was which skin colour Setsuna is meant to have, sigh. But like in almost every other online fandom, The Great Cultural Shift of 2013/14 has made the English-speaking webspaces almost unbearable. I'm glad I can also frequent fora and webpages exclusively geared towards the French and Italian fandoms (where I pretty much only lurk, I stopped being an active member around a decade ago) and see how the worldview that dominates in English fora and social networks is only held by a minority that will never ban you for disagreeing. 😅

UsaMamo is THE OTP for me (as in not only in Sailor Moon, but my favourite fictional couple ever), but so many other characters are head over heels for Usaghi that I could never blame fans for wanting to explore the various possibilities in their head and/or fanworks. Helped by the fact that Usaghi is canonically a bisexual icon, the alternative non-canon ships almost write themselves. But then... who could not love Usaghi, unless they're already in love with someone else? If I were to meet someone so amazing, friendly, positive, inspiring, loving, strong, brave, unapologetic, outspoken, relatable, heroic, helpful and outright life-saving like her in real life, I'd fall for her too. 😍

I know, right?!? Every day it seems like the SM fandom is filled with more and more gendies who claim stuff like how Haruka isn't actually a woman or worse... And what's more, this is far from being the most deranged take I've seen recently, especially now that June has started. But then they'll turn around and claim that SM is actually the pinnacle of feminism in manga, when it's so clearly liberal-leaning and pro-beauty standards that it's anything but. What can I say, the sane people have to stick together! While to be honest I have to say that I don't share your shipping opinions in the slightest, I'd always admire a "rival" like you more than a shipmate who's also a hardcore TQ+ cultist. Sorry if my English isn't exactly the best, I hope I can convey what I want to all the same. ^^

I was absolutely devastated that in Crystal they seriously added the line 'Haruka isn't a man or a woman.' Like... sorry, no. If that was the case then why the hell did Michiru and Haruka get that awful "they're cousins" treatment for the western localization in the OG anime 🙄

I swear ....claiming that SM is a "feminist" work has to do with the fact that people don't want to admit that they enjoy things that aren't politically "pure". Because in their minds it would reflect on who they are as a person, and if something they enjoy isn't perfect, then they aren't either. Tbh I think there's a lot of unchecked narcissistic behavior in fandom communities as a whole 🤦🏻‍♀️

Oh GOSH. My shipping is a mess !! LMAOOO. I should be ashamed of it but I'm so shameless🤣 Tbh i recently started shipping Usagi with practically everyone 😭🤦🏻‍♀️ I'm ©onflicted, that's for sure

but hell yeah, shipping wars be damned, female solidarity til death >:] 😂😂

and omg no, don't even worry! I had no idea English wasn't your first language from your ask!! your message got across Crystal (🤭) clear ♥️

[nerdyfangirl67]

With a Little Help From the Team - NCIS Reader Insert

Pairing: Tim McGee x fem!reader, Gibbs x daughter!reader (brief/vague)

Word count: 2717

Warnings: this was a pretty fluffy piece! (not gonna lie), mild language, reader is Gibbs’ daughter

Request: @ncisfan​ “Hello! I saw your post from this morning saying you didn’t have any requests for ncis at the moment and I wanted to make a request. If for some reason you don’t want to write it that’s okay but here’s my prompt,(Idk what to call it) The reader and McGee have been dating for years and McGee has to tell the whole team (Tony, McGee, Bishop, Gibbs. That team please!) including her dad (Gibbs, cause why not?) when he wants to propose. You can decide on if they say yes or no but I hope you’ll write it. Sorry if I’m overwhelming you I just wanted to make a request”

A/N: I know I’ve told you this @ncisfan​ , but I absolutely love this idea! And a McGee x reader? Yes please! I did put this in both McGee’s and the reader’s point of view and changed it up a bit. (Yeah, I got super involved in this one and it got longer than I thought…and took far longer than I thought) I hope you enjoy it darling!!

Tim stands in the bullpen, nervously trying to find the right words to tell the team about you, the team of which just so happened to include the one man capable of making him feel like a young schoolboy still wet behind the ears, especially since that one man had a lot to do with what Tim was about to say.

Tim takes a deep breath to gather his last bit of courage and confidence, which promptly fades away the moment he starts talking.

“I uh…well you know that I’ve been seeing, no dating…dating Y/N.” Tim stutters out as his nerves get the better of him, completely fumbling the carefully planned out speech he had come up with prior to meeting with Gibbs.

Gibbs narrows his steely blue eyes as he wordlessly nods his head, telling Tim to continue.

“Things have been going well, really well actually. And I’ve been wanting to, or meaning to…not that I was putting it off, because I wasn’t. That’s the last thing-”

Gibbs cut him off with a “Spit it out McGee.”

“What I’m asking is for your permission, no..that’s not - I want to propose to her.” He was speaking so fast, his words were nearly running together, his sentences jamming together into one that didn’t make much sense.

Gibbs doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he continues to stare at Tim, looking for any trace of deception in his face. “Why?” He asks gruffly, startling Tim.

“Wh-why?” Tim squeaks out, an uneasy feeling weighing on his chest as he tries to find the right words to answer a question he hadn’t prepared for.

“Yes, McGee. Why? Why do you want to marry my daughter?” Gibbs pauses, still evaluating Tim and his reaction. “Why should I want you to marry my daughter?”

Tim takes a deep breath, a sudden burst of confidence washing over him as he realizes that the answer to such a question was right in front of him. “Because I love her… honestly, I have for a long time, even before we started dating. And, more than anything, I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I want to spend every day that I have left in this life showing her I love her and cherishing her the way she deserves. I can’t imagine my life without her in it.”

Gibbs surprises him then, with a small smile and a hearty clasp to his shoulder. “Alright then, probie. Now all you have to do is tell her that and of course, ask her to marry you.”

Had it been any other girl, McGee might not be struggling as much to find the words. But you weren’t just any girl. You were not only Gibbs' daughter, something that caused him far more fear than he’d ever admit (he was dating the boss’ daughter after all), but you were also close with the other members of the team, which made this whole ordeal all the more nerve wracking.

You had come to know the members of the team through your job as a technical analyst for the Naval Criminal Investigative Service, meaning you spent most of your time hunting down case leads in a cubicle. Then, as you grew better at your job, and closer to Abby (who had had something to do with getting you on Gibbs team, although she’d never admit to it), you had been moved from that cubicle to a desk in Gibbs’ bullpen, unceremoniously joining the team, although not full-time as you still worked with the cyber/tech unit, your father thought so highly of (something he would never admit out loud, even to you).

You eventually became just as close to Abby as your father was, something Abby always attributed to ‘a Gibbs thing’, - “It must be a Gibbs thing because Y/N is just as great as Jethro and we just click.” Many times, if you weren’t working on a case, you could be found hanging out in the lab with Abby.

You and Tony were best friends, spending hours talking about movies and pranking each other. And, despite your “geeky background” of tech analysis, Tony never once teased you (a courtesy Tony had never given him). In fact, he had become something of a big brother to you, filling a role in your life you hadn’t ever thought you’d needed filled.

And then Ziva had joined the team, filling in little by little that hole that had been left after Kate’s death. Even with the high tension existing between Abby and Ziva, you and Ziva had hit it off right away, becoming fast friends. Eventually, despite the perceived oddness of your friendship, you, Abby, and Ziva became an inseparable trio, even occasionally ganging up together against Tony or Gibbs.

Suffice to say, you were important to the team, just as they were to you. And now Tim was faced with telling these people that he not only had been dating you (a relationship the two of you had decided to keep relatively quiet because of your line of work and the fact that you were often times coworkers), but that he was going to ask you to marry him, a proposal of which he was seeking the team’s help with.

“So, uh...I-well, I’ve been seeing, er...dating-” Tim starts, his mind scrambling as he tries to form a coherent sentence.

“McGee, the chickadee is out of the bag. We all know you’re dating Y/N.” Ziva says matter of factly,

“Cat, Ziva, the cat is out of -” Tony starts reflexively, before pausing and turning to Tim and then to Gibbs, his mouth hanging open. “Wait-what? You’re the one Y/N has been dating?” He asks incredulously.

Gibbs takes a step forward, slapping Tony on the back of the head. “Close your mouth DiNozzo.” Tony’s jaw snaps shut at the command.

“Keep talking McGee.” Gibbs says gruffly, his piercing blue eyes settling on Tim.

“I’m going to ask her to marry me.” Tim blurts out.

“We kind of knew that McGee.” Abby states, her lips pulled into a satisfied smirk. “I mean, you haven’t exactly been stealthy about ring shopping. Or buying the ring. Or getting it inscribed.” Abby lists off, earring a few incredulous looks from the other members of the team. “Y/N’s my best friend, okay? I had to make sure the ring was a good one.”

Tony turns to McGee. “McRomeo getting married? Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?” Tony steps forward to give Tim a good-natured shoulder shove. “You like it so you’re putting a ring on it, huh?” He asks with a Cheshire Cat-like grin on his face. Ziva is the one who moves to slap him in the back of the head this time.

“Ow, Ziva. What the hell was that for?” Tony asks, a hand already rubbing the spot Ziva had just smacked on the back of his head.

“When will you ever shut up and let McGee finish?” She questions, giving Tony a pointed glare. He opens his mouth to respond, but a hard look from Gibbs keeps him quiet.

Tim timidly clears his throat before continuing. “I’d like to do it here. And, um...I’d like to do it here, with all of you.” Smiles spread through the group at Tim’s words, several ideas already being blurred out by the more enthusiastic members of the team (it was Abby. Abby was already excitedly sharing ideas with the person sitting next to her, which just so happened to be Gibbs.)

——— You squeeze Tim’s hand before letting go, reaching for the handle to your car door. “See you at work.” You say with a soft smile before turning back towards your car.

“Let’s, um, let’s ride together today, to work I mean.” Tim stammers nervously, a hand on top of your driver’s side door, stopping you from leaving.

“Are you sure? I thought we were trying to keep this, us, quiet.” You ask, stepping away from your car and closer to him. He cups the side of your face with his hand, leaning forward to press a soft, chaste kiss to your lips.

“Just once, okay?” He asks quietly, a sheepish smile on his face.

You let out a small laugh. “Just this one time, alright Agent McGee?” You say with a smile, letting him take your hand and lead you towards his car. He opens the passenger door for you, closing it behind you before getting in the driver’s side. The entire ride into work is marked with Tim either giving you a huge dopey grin or a quick nervous glance, which only serves to make you suspicious, as if the insisting to ride together didn’t already.

Tim pulls into his usual parking spot, shutting off the car before turning to you. “How about we walk in together?” He asks hesitantly, a shy smile accompanying his question.

You quirk an eyebrow up at his question before responding, “Tim, it might make it pretty obvious what’s going on between us if we do that.” “Let’s do it anyway, Y/N.” He reaches over to squeeze your hand before climbing out of the driver’s side of the car and making his way to your side of the car. He opens the passenger door for you, offering you a hand to help you out, which you graciously accept. He continues to hold your hand after you are out of the car and as the two of you walk into the building, only letting go as the two of you go through security.

The two of you are the only ones on the elevator and for the entirety of the short ride, you can almost feel Tim vibrating beside you with some sort of nervous energy. You bring his hand up to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to it before murmuring, “You okay?” He gives you a tight nod in response just as the elevator dings, announcing its arrival on your floor of the building.

You press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Have a good day Tim, I love you.” You say, moving towards the open doors of the elevator. Tim reaches a hand out, grasping yours and stopping your exit out of the elevator.

“I, uh, I’ve got to give you something. It’s in my desk drawer, in the...bullpen.” He stammers out, quickly retracting his hand to wipe it against his suit jacket.

“Oh, can I get it at lunch?” You ask, turning back towards the front of the elevator and pressing the button to reopen the doors.

“No.” He shouts, startling you enough that you take a step back away from the sliding doors. “I mean, come with me?”

“What is up with you today Tim?” You demand, his unexplained, unnatural behavior causing your suspicions to rise, a million questions running through your head.

“Just...please.” His voice is thick with emotion, his words coming out barely above a whisper.

You silently nod your head, stepping back into the elevator and allowing the doors to close as you press the button for the floor that the NCIS team resided on. You spare a look over at Tim, whose is rubbing his hands up and down his slacks, his face turned towards the ceiling of the elevator and his lips moving in silent words.

“Tim, what is going on? You’ve been acting weird all morning and I just-” The elevator dings, announcing your arrival on the floor of the bullpen and effectively cutting you off.

Tim puts a hand over the doors, stopping them from closing as he looks at you, his kaleidoscopic eyes pleading with you to understand and to trust him. You give a small nod, taking his outstretched hand in your own and following him to the bullpen.

Right away, you notice the lights over the area of the office you’d come to know as your father’s, as Gibbs’, were off. A flash of fear settles in your chest as you begin to picture all the possible scenarios as to why your father’s part of the office was empty and dark, none of them positive. You start to walk faster, almost pushing past Tim, to get to the bullpen. You suddenly stop short when your eyes fall on Tony’s desk.

Instead of finding your best friend seated at his desk or even finding his desk empty, you see that Tony’s desktop is covered with picture frames. Your curiosity wins out over the rising fear in your chest and you step closer to the desk to inspect the framed photos.

“Oh,” A breath of surprise leaves you as you realize that they were photos of you and of Tim, taken at different times in your relationship. A series of pictures of the two of you from your second date, taken in one of the photo kiosks that you find at the mall. The two of you making goofy faces at each other in the bullpen. You and Tim bent over a computer, faces serious as you both stare at the screen. You turn to Tim’s desk next, finding it filled with vases of flowers in your favorite color.

You move towards them, leaning down to inhale their fragrant scent, your gaze landing on your father’s desk and the photos scattered across the desktop, similar to Tony’s desk, except these were pictures you’d taken of the two of you. One of the pictures from your first trip together, from the date when Tim had told you he loved you, and the first case the two of you had worked on together and a series of selfies you’d taken with Tim at various times; all laid out like a timeline of your relationship.

After a few long moments, you lift your gaze towards Ziva’s desk, curiosity seizing you as you find her desk almost empty. You quickly make your way to the front of the desk, your eyes landing on the single piece of white paper, with only one small paragraph scrawled out in the middle of the page.

Y/N,

I love you and I have something I have wanted to tell you, or rather ask you, for a long time now. I know you’re probably wondering what that question is, so if you’d turn around, I’d like to ask you it.

You slowly turn around, the paper clutched to your chest and your heart racing in your chest as your eyes find Tim’s. He gives you a small, honest smile as he takes a step forward, his hands clasping around yours before he kneels down on one knee in front of you. Your breath catches in your throat as you realize what is happening.

“I’ve loved you for years. First, as a friend, and then as a boyfriend, and now...now I want to love you as your fiance, and eventually as your husband. Would you, Y/N Gibbs, do me the honor of being my wife?” In his hands is a modest red velvet ring box, a platinum band adorned with three small diamonds nestled on the inside of the open box.

A lump forms in your throat and as you try to speak, to say yes, nothing comes out. Instead, you nod your head vigorously and close the distance between the two of you. Tim stands fully just as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in against you. You vaguely register noise in the background, noise you later learn is from the various members of ‘your’ NCIS team, as you feel him kiss your cheek.  

“I love you.” You whisper softly before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, savoring in the feeling of his lips against yours.

“And I love you.” He gives you a deep kiss in return, leaning in to cup a hand along the back of your neck. After a moment, you pull back enough to smile widely at him, the realization that this man would become your husband, the man that you got to spend the rest of your life with, starts to dawn on you, filling you with elation and excitement, not only for your wedding but for the future you’d had with the man you loved.

Tagging:

@madamsnape921​ @ncisfan​ @thisiscalm-andits-doctor​

[twentiethcenturygurl]

the piano

damon albarn smut one shot. dilf damo. dom damo. includes explicit sexual content. do not read if this offends you.

the evening sun glared down on damon’s piano, the beautiful icelandic backdrop of Mt Esja complimenting his perfect profile as his fingers gently glided across the ivory keys.

i apprehensively approached him, not wanting to disturb him, leaning against the oak piano as i watched his improvised melody come to an end. i stood there with a wholesome smile and my chin rested on my hand that was now supported by the piano.

‘that was beautiful’ i commented as damons hands floated off of the keys.

still not acknowledging my presence, he bowed his head and sighed.

‘what’s up?’ i questioned, a hint of concern in my tone.

‘nothing’ he lifted his head, greeting his eyes with mine as he smiled back, still slumped on the stool. ‘just tired’ he followed up.

i reached my arm over to adjust the tuft of his hair that had been bugging me slightly. ‘you sure?’

‘i’m sure, love’ he reassured me in his deep, unintentionally seductive tone. taking my hand into his, he pulled me over from behind the piano and widened his legs - offering a seat on his lap.

‘how was your day?’ he asked, placing his hand on my lower back to firm my position on his leg, pulling me in slightly as his big blue eyes glared at mine for an answer.

‘long. missed you’ i sighed, looking down at his smug grin, taking ahold of his stubbled chin before pulling him in for a kiss.

as we parted i noticed his hand reach for his crotch, adjusting the baggy jeans that covered his dick. i lifted my gaze back to him and raised an eyebrow, insinuating that i had noticed his gesture. he returned the look.

his strong hand took ahold of my thigh as his other remained on my back. he began to draw circles with his finger along my heated thigh, slowly inching towards where i wanted it most. his fingers slowly walked towards my dampened cloth, lifting up my skirt on the way, as his eyes asked for consent. nodding my head, the tip of his finger gently grazed my clit as he stared at me for a reaction.

i let out a soft moan in response as his pressure and pace began to increase.

‘you like that?’ he asked, still staring at me as hand got to work beneath my skirt.

‘mmhmm’ i responded, wrapping my arms around his neck and gently grinding against his hand to increase the friction.

he smiled. ‘so tell me more, what did you do today?’

‘well i went t-to work’ i breathed heavily ‘then i-i came here’

‘not yet you haven’t’ he winked at me, analysing my lips as i slowly dampened them with my pink tongue. ‘then what did you do’ he continued.

‘then i walked in t-to f-find you playing the piano’ i struggled to get the words out as his pace was increasing exponentially.

‘keep going’ he goaded. we both know it turns him on when he witnesses me writhe under his touch.

‘then i commented on y-your- aughhhh’ my sentence was interrupted as he inserted his middle and ring finger into my dripping core, the corners of his mouth turning up into that devilish smile of his.

‘commented on my what, darling?’

i looked down at his flexing forearm, the anchor tattoo shifting up and down as his fingers pumped through my folds. struggling to form a coherent sentence, i began to pant heavily before attempting to speak ‘c-commented on your b-beautiful piano playing’ i managed to spit out between the breaths.

‘got there eventually’ he chuckled, speaking in his husky voice before his lips connected with my neck, placing tender kisses along the softened skin.

his fingers continued to curl inside of me as my hands made their way to his crotch, palming the sensitive area.

‘ah ah ah’ he spoke between the kisses, shaking his head as his hand grabbed mine, removing it from his jeans. ‘not yet’.

i continued to ride his fingers as his kisses got lower and lower until they reached the top button of my shirt. just as i was on the verge of coming undone, he removed his fingers from within me and used them to undo the buttons of my shirt, placing a kiss on each new bit of exposed skin.

‘i want to see your beautiful tits’ he groaned, slowly peeling off the fabric.

once my shirt was removed, he brought his two fingers up to my dry lips, slowly stroking them before pushing them into my mouth. ‘good girl’. his other hand slipped beneath my bra and he began to kneed my nipples between his fingers.

i sucked on the two fingers, tasting myself. he removed his hand from within my bra and i noticed that it made it’s way down to his crotch as he began to unzip his jeans and pull out his precum-coated length.

he began to slowly pull himself as his fingers slid between my lips, causing me to release slutty moans, desperate for his touch yet again.

i looked down at his pink, leaking tip in awe, longing for it to be inside of me.

noticing my stare, ‘you want it?’ he asked whilst studying my face, his lips ajar. i nodded my head eagerly in response.

with all urgency and passion, he removed his fingers from my mouth and grabbed onto both of my thighs, picking me up around his waist before slamming me down to sit on the piano - making an out-of-tune cacophony of piano chords.

‘damon!’ i giggled - astounded by his sudden urge that even sacrificed his prized possession: his piano.

without a word or warning, he slammed his length into me, causing me to jolt back with the force - the piano’s book stand pressing uncomfortably into my spine.

his large hands grasped my ass as he pounded into me, not breaking the eye contact. ‘fuck’ he said between the groans, ‘you feel so good’.

i released a broken hum in response, restricted by my moans.

‘i know, sweetheart’ he said in response to my moans as he repeatedly penetrated me.

he leant over to kiss me passionately, tightening his grip on the sides of my ass, indicating his raw affection as his length slid in and out of me.

moving his hand from my ass to my bra, he grabbed a handful of my tit before yanking the cup down, exposing it fully.

his lips parted mine and he created a trail of tender kisses all along my skin from my chin to my nipple before sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin.

his thrust pace began to dramatically increase, causing the piano keys to blurt out the odd note.

lifting his head back to my level, his lustful, droopy eyes staring deadly at mine, he brought his hand up to my neck and held me in a firm chokehold before he continued to announce: ‘i’m going to cum inside of you’. this was then followed by a chain of moans as he jolted his head back, exposing his delightful neck as his adam’s apple poked into his skin - indicating he had reached his high.

on coming down, he dropped his head and panted beside my ear, loosening his hold around my neck. his hand gently crept around my jaw as he pulled up my chin to look at him - a sincere expression across his fine face. ‘i want to make you feel good’ he said.

‘that did feel good’ i responded innocently.

‘no, i mean really good’

before i was able to protest, he removed his length from within me and sat down on the piano stool behind him, tugging the chair closer so his face was inches from my core.

he took a hold of both of my ankles and placed them onto his shoulders, sending me yet another look for permission before he got to work.

the flat of his tongue met my clit as he wrapped his hands around my thighs, causing me to lean back into the piano in pure elation.

he licked and swirled my sensitive nub with his tongue, tightening his grip on my thighs every time i let out a whimper or moan.

i reached over to pull on his hair and use it as a steering wheel as he dined on my clit, sucking and kissing it whilst lapping up my juices which coated the stubble around his mouth.

‘i want you to cum on my face’ he demanded, deserting my core and gazing up at me before inserting the same two fingers into me again - watching my reaction. i nodded my head and tightened my grip on his hair, implying i wanted his lips to return to me - which he did with no resistance.

his finger and mouth combination drove me crazy, evident in my rapid breaths and occasional whimpers.

‘that’s it, good girl’ he murmured through the moisture.

‘ah fuck damon i’m gona cum-‘ i quickly announced before being flushed with utter goodness as my legs shook over his shoulders.

his tongue didn’t stop working, beginning to overstimulate my clit as i came down from my high. it came to the point where it was verging on painful so i had to pry his head from between my legs by pushing him back with my feet.

he slumped back into the stool, his veiny hands dangling between his legs as he licked the taste of me from his lips. ‘yum’ he joked, followed by a conceited grin.

i giggled and closed my legs, taking his offered hand to help me down from the piano before returning to my seat on his lap.

his hands looped behind my back and he gazed up at me in admiration, ‘you are amazing’ he said.

‘meh, you’re okay’ i teased, poking his chest.

‘fuck off’ he laughed, retracting his head at my statement.

[soup-14]

Steve Harrington Drabble

[~900 words] [bestfriend!steve x gn!reader] [use of y/n] [fluff angst if you squint]

Warnings: mention of parents arguing. The company policy Scoops hat. This is like my first time writing a fic since middle school I swear-. I don’t know exactly how to do tumblr right so don’t come for me.

Summary: y/n’s parents argue quite a bit and it’s bumming them out. They spend the night at Steve’s to get a break.

———————————————————————————————————

The sound of muffled voices is what woke them that morning. Harsh tones and voice cracks, feet stopping across the house, doors slamming. Their parents were fighting again.

There never seemed to be a morning this summer without being woken by them arguing over something.

y/n opens their eyes and rolls over in bed, trying to ease drop on what could possibly be the problem this time. Though unsuccessful. They can’t make out coherent sentences through the walls.

They check the clock on their bedside table sighing when it reads an hour before they planned to wake up for work. They ponder weather they should go back to sleep or just lay awake waiting for their parents’ arguing to settle down. They decide on the later.

An hour passes and they eventually roll out of bed to get ready for work. Brushing their teeth and hair and dawning their ridiculous Scoops Ahoy sailor uniform.

They’d gotten a summer job at the new Star Court Mall along with their best friend Steve “The Hair” Harrington. Both fresh out of high school with no thoughts or plans for the future.

As they’re finishing a bowl of cereal a car horn is heard from outside, signaling Steve’s arrival.

Y/n hurriedly leaves the house and down the sidewalk towards Steve’s burgundy BMW.

“Hey Bub.” He greets as they enter the car.

“Hey Stevie.” Y/n says as they give Steve a light fist bump, starting the handshake they made up together, it’s not nearly as complicated as his and Dustin’s but it’s special none the less.

Y/n reaches into the globe box and pulls out their favorite mix tape, inserting it into the radios tape player then turning up the volume. The drive to the mall then consists of Steve belting his favorite songs and spilling all the latest gossip about girls he can’t get dates with. Y/n has to act surprised at the news, even though they witness it every day at work.

Upon arriving at the mall and the Scoops shop, the rest of the day goes as follows: Mike, Will, Max and Lucas beg to use the back entrance of Scoops Ahoy in order to sneak into the movie theater for free, Erica demands endless free samples much to Robin’s dispare, and Steve awkwardly and unsuccessfully flirts with every attractive female that approaches the parlor. He blames his failure on the company policy hats, it covers his best feature.

Once the day has come to an end, y/n and Steve make their way back to his car. Again putting on their tape. Although Steve only hums to the songs this time, since the drive home is always less talkative after a days work.

Y/n rests their head against the window and watches the road. There’s a feeling of disappointed and slight dread as they near their house. Y/n doesn’t know if they want to deal with or worry about their parents fighting. They don’t want to have to wake up to that at least twice a week.

Y/n is snapped out of their thoughts as they feel Steve’s hand lightly jostling their shoulder. “Hey Bubs, we’re here.”

“Mm yeah.” Y/n acknowledges his words but doesn’t make any move to get out of the car. Steve looks at them for a second before asking “y/n you okay?” giving their shoulder a light squeeze. “Stevie, can I stay with you tonight?” They ask “I don’t want to deal with them right now.”

Steve understands. He gets it having annoying parents. “Yeah, always.” Steve nods. “I’ll just call when we get to your place.” Says y/n.

A few short minutes and they’re parked in Steve’s driveway. As soon as the door is unlocked y/n bolts to Steve’s room and flops face first onto his bed.

“Hey, hey, no work clothes on the bed l/n.” He scolds with amusement in his voice. Y/n groans and rolls off the bed with a loud thud. They go to Steve’s dresser, pulling open the bottom drawer. The drawer reserved just for them since they stayed over so often. They both thought it more convenient to just keep stuff at each other’s houses anyways.

They change into their lounge clothes in the bathroom, then search for Steve downstairs. Y/n finds him in the kitchen tossing two TV dinners into the microwave. He’s also changed out of his Scoops uniform and into something more suitable for lazing about after a rigorous day of scooping ice cream. Y/n reaches for the telephone hanging on the wall by the kitchen and calls their mom to let her know they’re staying at Steve’s. After hanging up they go to the living room and turn on the tv to whatever looks the most interesting.

The microwave dings across the house and a moment later Steve sits on the couch next to y/n handing them their food. Both eat in a comfortable quiet, with the occasional comment about life or work that day. Y/n sets their empty dinner tray on the coffee table and rests their head on Steve’s shoulder, and he rests his head onto theirs. “Thanks again for this Steve.” They mumble. “Of course kid, I could never say no to having my best friend in the whole world come over.”

“Don’t let Robin hear you say that.” Y/n chuckles, and Steve joins.

Y/n knows they’ll eventually have to go back to their bickering parents and Steve’s will eventually come back from their endless business trips. But for the moment the two just enjoy each other’s presence instead. When they’re togther it feels like they don’t have to worry about anything other than themselves.

[dracwife]

(this may get lengthy, so prepared yourself)

I recently wrote a little koala drabble, and I want to share it with you.

---

The only sound to be heard in Rrala's quarters was a faint purr. The Caitian lay relaxed and very comfortable in Q's arms, their tail looped around his waist and his breath whuffing gently against their fur. They could have stayed there forever.

One of Q's hands glode across Rrala's head, his fingers dipping into their ungroomed mane to lightly scratch the base of their ears. "What now?" he inquired, his voice barely a murmur.

Rrala opened their eyes lazily at the question, leaning their ear into Q's touch. "What do you mean? Now we do whatever we want."

Doing his best impression of Rrala, Q repeated what they had said the night before. "We're just friends, Q, nothing more." When Rrala didn't reply, he went on in a normal voice, "Is that all you really want?"

"No," Rrala admitted. "I... I'm sure this will come back and bite me in the tail, but I like you. A lot. I might even --"

"Love me?" Q guessed.

Heat flushed through Rrala's fur; they hadn't ever said it out loud, and even admitting it in their own mind made them nervous, but they could not deny it: they loved Q.

"I'm right, aren't I? Your silence says what you won't." Q pulled Rrala closer to him, whispering directly into their ear, "Why do you resist it? Don't tell me you're shy."

"You said it yourself -- love is a dangerous emotion," Rrala mewed. When Q pulled away, they thought with dismay that they'd offended him; the feeling disappeared quickly as they found themself pinned under Q for a second time -- not that they felt like protesting.

Q's distinct, split-color gaze bore into Rrala's own. "You're afraid," he taunted. "You don't want to risk getting hurt by allowing yourself to give in to what you feel."

"Hey!" Rrala protested. As much as they hated to admit it, Q was right. But they didn't want to let him know that. "You're one to talk, Mr 'I Have No Interest In Personal Relationships'!"

"With any of them," Q argued. When Rrala gave him a demanding trill, he went on, "Dull, irritating primates -- they are unworthy of my attention. You, Rrala... I think you are worth..."

"Worth...?" Rrala pressed. Their heart beat wildly in their chest as their mind raced for possible ends to Q's sentence.

Q smiled softly, though with what emotion, Rrala was uncertain. "Worth admitting I was wrong."

Oh. Rrala floundered for something, anything, to say. All coherency seemed to have deserted them, especially when Q trailed his fingers through their sensitive whiskers. Their eyes closed as though acting on their own will.

"Here. Let me get you started." Q cleared his throat, then, in his imitation of Rrala, quipped, "Yes, Q, I'm so very honored and lucky to have you consider me as a mate. Of course I accept --"

Rrala silenced Q by pressing their nose to his and, purring, wrapping their tail around his waist. The Caitian melted into their mate's touch, resting their head on his shoulder and tossing a leg over him. "I love you," they murmured.

Q gently cupped Rrala's chin and angled their head back so they had to meet his gaze. His eyes sparkled with sheer joy as he studied Rrala's face. "I love me, too," he teased, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to Rrala's nose.

Feeling as though life couldn't possibly get better, Rrala snuggled against Q, curling their tail around him. They drifted off into peaceful slumber, sore from their night with Q and feeling safe in his arms.

scout im sorry this took me a while to respond to, but i loved this!

it's so very endearing, i adore how you write Q, it's very fitting, i could definitely read his voice in your writing ❤️‍🩹 very much a way i can see him admitting he's in love, the amount of time and thought went into this shows, it's absolutely lovely :]

i know rrala's caitian but i love the little feline traits you exaggerated here, things like purring and the whiskers, you're the only person i've met with a caitian insert so little things like that stick out as uniquely endearing to me because it's not things you often see !!

i love them so much, i'm a koala stan first and a human being second u know this !! thank u for sharing with me 🥺

[herofics]

Hi. Im sorry for bothering you. Can you please do bakugou, hawks, and aizawa where they buy a white noise machine to sleep better. But waje up one night to s/o crying saying '*insert name wont hurt me' over and over, because their abuser used white noise machines to purposefully keep them awake? Thabk youfkr your time

Sorry this took so damn long to write, I kinda forgot I even had this in the askbox, but here it is now. They’re adults and living together in the Baku and Hawks ones, I only did a scenario for Hawks and HCs for the other two since I couldn’t come up with scenarios.

~Aizawa Shouta~

•Aizawa has slept with a white noise machine for a long time and the first time you spent the night and he turned it on, it was an instant panic attack for you

•He knows how to deal with a panic attack, he has those from time to time too, so he knows how to calm you down

•When you’re calmer again, you open up to him about your past and he just listens

•He doesn’t really know what to tell you, but he is pretty sure sleep deprivation can be considered actual torture, but he figured it’s not really a good time to mention that

•You two stay up all night, talking and eating the ice cream Aizawa had in his freezer

•He tells you about his experience as a pro-hero, the good and the bad and you tell him more about yourself too

~Bakugou Katsuki~

•He got a white noise machine and from the moment he brought it into the bedroom he could see your discomfort

•You didn’t tell him why you were so upset, so he stopped prying after a while

•He came to bed later than you and you were still reading, but he fell asleep before you 

•You stayed awake after Bakugou turned on the white noise machine, because you just couldn’t sleep

•The noise kept you awake for a while before you finally broke down in tears and woke up Bakugou

•He was pretty much like “what the fuck? Why are you crying in the middle of the night?”

•You explain to him about your past experience with white noise machines and he pretty much goes outside in his underwear and throws it in the garbage right then and there

•He then cuddles and comforts you for the rest of the night, telling you he’s never gonna let anything like that happen to you again

~Hawks/Takami Keigo~

“Babe, look what I bought” Hawks exclaimed as he entered the bedroom, holding a box.

You were already pretty much asleep when he barged into the room so you just decided to just turn in bed and keep sleeping. You were dead tired and you could see what he had bought later.

Sometime later you woke up to a familiar noise. Why were you hearing that noise again? It shouldn’t be possible, you nor Hawks owned a white noise machine. Even if Keigo knew about your past abuse, he wouldn’t do this to you. He wouldn’t hurt you like that, right?

No matter how much you tried to convince yourself you were just hearing things, the noise persisted. Eventually it just came to be too much, and you started sobbing, and repeating: “Keigo wouldn’t hurt me, he wouldn’t… he wouldn’t”

Hawks woke up in the middle of the night to a sadly familiar noise, your sobbing. He was wide awake pretty quickly since his instincts were yelling at him that something was wrong. He heard you repeating the same sentence over and over again and he could see you shaking under the covers.

“Babe? What is it, what’s wrong?” he asked and moved closer to you on the bed.

“I keep hearing it, it won’t go away” you cried and gripped the covers tighter.

“What, what won’t go away?”

“It-it’s like a-a white noise machine sound…”

“Oh, it is an actual white noise machine, I was trying to show it to you earlier and-”

“Turn it off, please, I-I can’t stand that sound”

“I will, would you please tell me what’s wrong, please?” Hawks sounded worried and you could hear it in his voice that he felt like he had done something wrong.

You turned to him and buried your face to the crook of his neck. He wrapped his wings around you like a cocoon and held you until you were coherent enough to talk again.

“Are you ready to talk? Wanna tell me why that particular noise caused such a bad reaction?” he asked and caressed your back.

“It’s just that, my ex… you know the asshole one… he used to keep me awake at night by using white noise machines and, I-I can’t stand the sound now” you hiccupped.

Hawks was a bit taken aback, because even though he knew your ex was a real ass, he didn’t expect him to actually torture you.

“That sounds really bad, I’m sorry that happened to you” Hawks said and wrapped his arms and wings around you tighter.

“It’s not your fault, so no need to apologize…” you sighed.

“I know that, but I just feel like you needed to hear it, even if it wasn’t coming from that asshole” he said.

 “I appreciate it” 

You snuggled closer to Hawks’ chest and after a while you fell back to sleep. Hawks didn’t though, he stayed up for a few hours, just holding you.

[angellgguk]

Watching you crumble - [Min yoongi ]

Character - [ Thief Yoongi ]

Genre - [ Yandere, angst, smut ]

Warning/s, mentions of - [ Burglary, House invasion, Sex under the influence (NOT CONSENTED), Unintended voyeurism, Past sexual abuse (very brief) ]

19.10.2020 [ We have a new character! this was originally supposed to go for jungkook but with more deep thoughts yoongi felt more suitable.give him love please I worked a lot on his story line.we also have a special character (if you connect the dots I love you) ]

He wiped the sweat off his hands before holding the duplicate keys to the lock.he clicked his tongue when his hands shook when he tried to insert the key in the hole.he sighed and rubbed it in his pants before trying again, smiling in delight when the lock unlatched successfully.

He took in a shaky breath before opening the door and once again sighing in relief when there was nobody inside like he had thought.he pulled the keys out and shoved it in his pants before rubbing his hands together and walking forward with a shaky breath.

If his mother ever came to know the truth about all the money he sent home every month he was sure she would disown him.he regretted every moment of last year.

Only if he had enough courage to tell his mother that he just wanted to leave Daegu, if he had taken a few hours to sit down and talk with her about wanting to be elsewhere other than his birthplace then he wouldn’t have been struggling alone now.

The place held too many nightmares.

He pulled his phone out and turned the flashlight on to guide him forward, which was pretty easy considering the apartment was really clean.he continued to walk whilst making sure that his shoes did not create any place for suspicions.

He stopped when he saw a closed door. “Must be the bedroom” he muttered to himself as he pulled his gloves out to open the door.it looked as if he was going to commit a murder and separate the limbs off the corpse but he was only going to steal a few dollars and maybe something valuable to survive.

He sniffed in the warm smell of vanilla as he entered the room. the moon from the outside and the light from the apartment window from the opposite were the only things that were giving the room light.he moved his phone around to get a glimpse  of anything.

Only to click his tongue when he found nothing.”fuck-” he scrunched his brows when he heard something.it was not  the door was it?.he must be hearing things.he didn't have time to oppose the fact that he was wrong because he heard the door closing right after.

He cursed under his breath and searched for somewhere to hide, he let out a quick sigh of relief when he spotted your ajar closet door.he could have just stole something from inside and ran away, now he has to go hide in it until it was safe enough for him to come out.When he heard the rushed footsteps nearing he threw himself inside the closet and switched his phone off.but he was too late to completely shut the door.

Big mistake.

He expected a drunk or tired female (judging by the clothes that were hung behind him) to stumble home and slump in the bed because what else could one do at three in the morning?.”you’re such a slut darling” 

oh right you could have sex too.

Yoongi suppressed in a groan when he saw two figures stumble in the dark.he came here to get by for the next week not to watch two people fucking their brains out.he slouched back into the closet and rested his back against the surface behind him as he bought his hand to his forehead to curse at himself for not leaving earlier.

Too tired from work you decided to gulp in few shots of tequila at work, asking your boss to cut the money off your pay.yes it was going to bite you in the ass later but the future was something that never really mattered to you

A few shots soon turned into you almost downing a whole bottle of whiskey only to be stopped by him.you were too drunk to even form a coherent sentence and he used that as an advantage.he slung an arm around your neck and payed for the both of you before proceeding to drag you out of the bar.

It took a few burps, giggles and a annoyed click of tongue from him for you to finally tell him your address because he didn’t want to take your reeking self back to his condo or to make his car smell.after a few suspicious glances from passerby’s he finally took you to your apartment to make use of your drunk self.

“Take this off” he commanded as if you were going to do it without making a ruckus.he clicked his tongue and ripped your top off making yoongi gasp but luckily for him your whine muted him. yoongi made sure the other man’s face was not facing anywhere near him before peeking out to see what was happening.

No, he was not a perv or a creep he just was curious.he was faced with you under a man who was marking your neck and below.he would have slumped back in if he hadn’t seen you trying to weakly push him away as you mumbled something (more) to yourself.

He continued to watch as the man on top pulled away to unbutton his shirt and pull his belt off. yoongi scrunched his eyebrows when the moonlight reflected on his face. yoongi could make out a faint smirk and a lip bite.he looked more closely to accidentally spot a familiar tattoo on his back.

No way

What did he do to get caught up with Jung hoseok and another one of his victims?.his eyes refused to look away when hoseok dived back to your writhing body.he refused to look away even when hoseok forced your jeans down and ripped your underwear off.

Yoongi didn’t even know he was starting to tear up until the scene in front of him turned blurry.he concealed in the harsh breathing as he slammed back into your closet.he ran his hand through his hair and painfully waited for his heart to go back to normal.

He spent the next few hours waiting for the cries and groans to stop.and by the time it finally did you were passed out and yoongi was sweating bullets. hoseok groaned as he pulled out.he ripped the soiled condom off and zipped himself back before getting up to fix himself.

When yoongi heard the bathroom door shut itself he jolted out of the closet he spared your passed out, bruised naked body one last glance before rushing out your apartment.luckily for him it was too late for anyone to be out.

He ran away from all those nightmares only for it to haunt him back.he may have been fated to never wake up from it but that never meant he wasn’t going to force you awake.

[abstractreign]

3, 5, 21 and 23 for the roleplay writing habits meme! ( → @purificr )

( → roleplay / writing habits !! )

Are you proficient in any language outside of your native tongue? Do you write characters that speak multiple languages?

{ i'm not sure if i'd consider myself "proficient" at it, but i do know Filipino/Tagalog enough to understand conversational forms of it both written and spoken— though not enough to write or speak in full sentences. besides that, i don't really know any languages outside English, which is my first, and what i'm most fluent in.

i do have a lot of original characters who are bilingual to multilingual — a couple of them downright polyglots — but i've yet to roleplay most of them.

joshua here understands written English fairly well along with spoken, more "formal", (loosely North American) English, and is able to speak it somewhat; but he's less knowledgeable with more colloquial forms of it, as well certain variations or dialects of it.

( → rest of answers below the cut !! )

What time of day are you most productive with regard to writing?

{ as my sleep schedule just keeps shifting over months, it's not so much a certain time of day as much a certain time after waking up or before falling asleep. i find that nowadays, in spite of actual times of day or night, it's usually easier to write after i've been awake for a few hours. i'll likely have eaten something by then, so it's easier for me to focus and actually come up with actual words and coherent thoughts.

If a reply isn’t coming easily do you draft it for later, delete and start over, chat with your writing partner for help, or something else?

{ usually i do some combination of the three and more! i actually don't usually get to writing replies straight away, so as to avoid placing a weird pressure on myself for something that's meant to be a hobby; but i don't often find myself finishing replies in one sitting still when i do get around to writing them, especially the longer the word count is.

if i'm really having trouble, or need to clarify something, i'll poke my partner, of course, and occasionally i will scrap writing just to start fresh, but on top of those—

whenever my mind draws a complete blank, i'll do this thing where i'll just start writing my muse doing and saying things that they absolutely would never ever do in response. not only is it really fucking funny a hundred percent of the time, it provides me with a lot of clarity as to what my muse would do in response to a given situation. it's a real good way for me to shake off any built-up pressure and come back to the core of my muse's character.

(also it's doubly? funny to just imagine joshua storming in, yelling at me to stop writing him fortn/te dancing, and finally cooperating with me long enough for me to write a reply)

What subjects / genres do you find yourself becoming the most passionate about when you’re writing?

{ i think it's apparent just how much of a huge sucker i am for comedy and for inserting comedic elements into my writing in general— which is especially fun to do with joshua, whom i'm more than used to ragging on out of endearment and entertainment. (i've been lovingly roasting this everloving shit of this pisshead for nearly eight years now, and i am not letting up anytime soon.)

that being said, i do enjoy a hefty serving of drama and angst as well! while i haven't gotten to write much of them with joshua here yet, i absolutely look forward to getting to do so in the future with a couple of the plots i've been working towards for a bit now.

i figure what i enjoy about both genres and writing them is just how well they lend themselves to exposing and exploring character flaws, consequences of decisions, and so on. there's something inherently humbling— and thus endearing, human about them when done right, and that's the kind of writing i strive for.

[iisasxia]

-Under the Wraps-

BNHA BoysXGN Reader

➽──────────────❥

“Sticks n’ stones may break my bones but Chains and Whips Excite Me.”-Rihanna💜

➽──────────────❥

Warning: MAJOR SMUTT, Aged Up(18+)!!GN’ Reader!! Angst, Restraining, Degradation Kinks, etc.

Characters: KirishimaXReader, ShinsouXReader, DabiXreader, AizawaXReader

Summ: *Insert Boy* wanted to try restraining you and you had it on your mind anyway so you didn’t hesitate to let him have some fun~🙆🏽‍♀️🌸

Code Words: Y/N=Your Name, E/C= Eye Color, S/C=Skin Color, L/N= Last Name

➽──────────────❥

Kirishima Eijiro

Holy shit, honestly you didn’t even see him as the type to do that

Probably tried practicing asking you as a scenario in his head multiple times

Definitely had a confident outside but was secretly ready to have a heart attack on the inside(probably did)

“Hey...erm-I have a question. Can we try restraining the next time we have sex?”

He swore he’d try to be gentle since whenever you guys do it his quirk activates when he cums and he ends up breaking the bed or the frame or wall—

Yeah bad habits—But aye he’s trying

So you decided to give it a shot cause it was a thought in the back of your mind already too anyway

Ohhhh shit..Now sis sit down n’ lemme tell you-

“Please please please...Eijiro” the incoherent words fumbling out of your mouth as you’re fucked dumb. Hands in cuffs as your legs are somewhat tied giving you movement but not enough. “Shit y/n, pretty little pussy is so wet..you like being tied up like this don’t you?” A harsh slap to your ass waiting for a reply..”Ah, y..yes daddy..Please please don’t stop” you already came twice but that wasn’t enough for him.

Just one more time, he wanted to hear your inaudible screams and feel you clamp down around his length as you came undone for him. Shit the thought of it messing with his head. He leaned down, mouth to ear..”Come on baby, I know you’ve got one more in there for me let it out” you squeal at the sudden warmth against your face. “Eijiro-“ your eyes swell up with tears at the overstimulation of his hand on your puffy clit...”I’m right here babe, come on y/n..cum for me” as if on cue with his demand you came. Covering both his cock and his hand with your cum..”Fuck yeah..s-shit” throwing his head back he reached his high right after.. Looking down to meet your tired form before placing a gentle kiss to your temple. “Thank you pebble, now let’s get you cleaned up and treated” voice soothing as you managed to form a smile. "You're so perfect for me.. my little pebble." ❤️

Shinsou Hitoshi

You see how in the picture above ☝🏽, he got on the scarf

Yeah that’s what he used to restrain you

And it’s so fucking evil cause the material is so gentle and comforting but how it’s wrapped around your neck and tits makes it unbearable to escape from

He didn’t really ask-? He just did it and waited for a sign that said “Please continue” which is what he got

After all you guys have a safe-word so he knows his boundaries/limitations during intimacy

Although sometimes he gets a bit feral 🙆🏽‍♀️

“Fuck Kitten, you’re gonna make me lose my mind if you keep squeezing my cock like that” Shinsou’s low grunt filling up the room

You didn’t expect for it to get so good, just a little bondage but not to the point where you felt you were gonna burst

“Please please please, don’t stop” the only sentence you could coherently say that night as his hips rut into you

Bruises and Marks cover what used to be your delicate s/c skin

“Yeah, ngh, you like that?”

“Like how I’m fucking you so good and you can’t even do anything about it”

“Come on say something y/n”

No response as he reaches down to leave sloppy figure 8’s on your sensitive clit

That burning feeling rising once more as you felt yourself about to lose it

“Ah..shit shit shit-, Shinsou please w..wait”

Grinning he ignored your request going faster

“M’ gonna c...cum..M’ gonna cum!!”

Bending down he kissed you, sloppy kisses and lewd noises filled the room as you reached you soaked his hand up to his wrist(not that minded)

“S..shit, you’re so fucking wet”

“Sadly for you, I haven’t came yet.”

Keeping up his pace as you were trying to calm down from your high

“Kitten” 💜

Todoroki Touya

This bitch—

This Mf gonna manipulate you into doing it (Not that you minded)

But this burnt purple grape gonna start talking about some “I’m gonna wrap you up all pretty for me, yeah? Fuck you dumb while you can’t even do anything about it”

Not even begging to, just saying he’s going to do it

Honesty he enjoys it, like every bit of it

The type to probably forget you’re tired for a second ad debate on keeping you that way for a little longer

He knows not to hurt you I mean how could he hurt his little baby?

But he’s such a bitch 😭🙌🏽, like mans went feral on dat ass-

“Hey why are you-“ that’s one handcuff on your left wrist and seconds after now the right. “Dabi, what do you think you’re doing?” You weren’t able to get the rest of your protests out before he quickly had your hands behind your hand, wrists pinned, and back arched. “Told you already, m’ gonna wrap you up all pretty for me” you were ready to argue but you bit your lip at the sudden feeling of his cock rubbing against your ass, that’s when he spit on it and you lost it. Head thrown back as he slid himself into you, merciless speed before he grabbed a hold of your hair and just fucked you like it was the last thing he’d get to do, the last thing he wanted to do. “Ah, fuck please..f..faster-“, words fumbled out of your mouth with a quick sharp reply..”Shut up, I’ll fuck you how I want” he snarled at you as he continued to leave harsh slaps on your ass, mark after mark, and you loved it.

“Shit you’re pussy sucking me so well babe, you’ve been waiting for this haven’t you? Waiting for me to stuff you with me cock huh you needy little whore?” You whined at his names and tightened around him giving him the cue that you were enjoying this..”Yeah-fuck, you like that?” a harsh slap leaving your ass red n’ bruised as he waited for an answer. “Ngh-y..yes, fuck fuck fuck..m’ cumming!!” Eyes rolling to the back of your head before you soaked his cock and wrist with your juices. “Good fucking girl, ooh shit. Feels so fucking good, clampn’ down on me like that” you let other breathy sighs as your eyes filled with tears once his pace quickened before he grabbed your hair and lifted your head up to see fresh tears stroll down your face. “Sadly for you, I haven’t cum yet..

Slut”🖤

Aizawa Shota

Okay we all have to agree he's a bit soft about it at first until you start teasing

Just like Shinsou he uses his scarf but wouldn't mind ropes, handcuffs, etc.

Honestly was NOT expecting for you to bring it up so casually

"Hey Shota?"

"Yes, what is it y/n?"

"Can we try bondage??"

Mans was so caught off gaurd his frontal lobe was reloading the minute you asked

He thought you meant right away which led to this....

"S..shota!! What are you doing?" as much as you wanted to stop him you couldn't, hands behind your head as his leg was fitting snug between yours

"Didn't you want this, kitten?" his face smug as he lowered himself down, breath hitching agaisnt your skin

"Well yeah, b..but we could have done it later sho-" your words cut off with a deep kiss, your heart sunk at his touch

Without even realizing your hands were in cuffs as he tore away at your clothing

"Damn.." he paused admiring your figure, the way your waist curved out towards your hips, your perfect breasts nice and curved

He grinned before leaning down and sucking on one of your nipples while his other hand ran down your leg to find you inner thigh

As a result you closed your legs on him, causing him to let out a slight huff of annoyance as he used his scarf to keep your legs open

"Try that one more time kitten and I promise these legs won't be the only thing ruined and bruised"

Well now what? All you could do was lay there and submit to his words and actions

Not that you minded..your moans were enough of a sentence for him

"S..shota-"

"Fuck the way you say my name..I can't wait to leave you all messy for me..

Brat"

-The End-

[nekomas-kuroo]

Would you do scenario for Bokuto where his crush is the captain of the girls soccer team and their teams share a bus to matches at the same school?

yes yes and YES i love blushy/flustered bokuto! also i hope you don’t mind, but i left the sport up to the reader instead of just soccer!!

y/s/n: your sport’s name

masterlist

first. moment of appreciation for this gif cause we love bokuto koutarou. okay that’s all.

bokuto koutarou

okay so when akaashi told him that they were gonna be sharing with another sports team, he didn’t really think much of it

that is, until he saw you and your team board the bus headed for a city a bit farther away than any of them would’ve liked

he quickly pulls akaashi aside and you can tell this boy is physically panicking

“AKAASHI WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME Y/N’S TEAM WAS THE ONE WE’RE SHARING THE BUS WITH???”

“bokuto. i did tell you. i told you that we were sharing the bus with the y/s/n team.”

“BUT YOU DIDN’T TELL ME Y/N WAS GONNA BE HERE?”

*insert biggest facepalm of his life* “bokuto, Y/N is the captain of that team.”

the rest of the volleyball team picks up on this rather quickly, and eventually they force a first year to yell out “CAPTAINS SHOULD SIT TOGETHER”

bokuto’s basically red at this point, and boy doesn’t know how to function, and the team might be doing a lot of extra laps during the next practice

you had no idea that ANY of this was going on, but you could definitely feel butterflies in your stomach as you took your seat next to bokuto

fast forward about a half hour into the trip and much to everyone’s surprise, you and bokuto have been talking this entire time

you have a calming effect on bokuto, so he managed to calm down and actually speak in coherent sentences sometimes

about an hour and a half into the drive, you and bokuto have fallen asleep, your head on his shoulder, and a beautiful relationship blooming

akaashi and the rest of the team totally take pictures of you two

[tinyarmedtrex]

if you’re still doing the ship+ number thing could you please do reddie and 21

best friends sibling au

“Richie! Come down for dinner!” Richie’s mom, Maggie, yelled from the bottom of the stairs. Richie pulled off his headphones, about to yell back that he wasn’t hungry when his mom added, “And put on a shirt! Eddie is here!”

That bit of information made him scramble, looking for a clean shirt in the pile on his floor. He silently cursed his mom for being so correct about needing to put his laundry away. Not important. He found a Ramones shirt that didn’t smell too bad and ran downstairs, finding the rest of his family already sitting down.

“Thanks for joining us dork,” His sister, Mary, said, smirking at him.

“Shut up,” He said, sliding into the seat across from her and Eddie as he tried to smooth his hair down. He’d forgotten to put gel in it after he showered and it had gotten very big and fluffy.

“What were you doing up there? Trying to convince more birds to fly into your hair?” She tease, taking a helping of mashed potatoes.

“I want reading a book, you wouldn’t understand, too many three syllable words.”

Mary stuck her tongue out but he ignored her. His eyes were on Eddie as the boy giggled, hiding it behind his hand.

Richie spent the rest of dinner trying not to stare at Eddie but it was  impossible. He had been infatuated with Eddie for years, at first from afar and then from much closer when Eddie and Mary became best friends. Now Eddie was over here constantly.

Richie knew he didn’t have a great relationship with his mom and Richie’s parents adored him and were more than willing to let him stay over. They clearly weren’t worried about him and Mary doing anything- they let them be alone with the door shut (though whenever Eddie ventured into Richie’s room Went would yell up a reminder about the open door rule. Sometimes Richie wished his parents were less observant). As a direct result of that Richie had seen many versions of Eddie- the one who was tired from too many movies, the early morning heading to the bathroom Eddie, the hangry Eddie. He’d memorized all of them.

Richie loved to play up being the annoying little brother and inserting himself in their hang out time. Eddie never seemed to mind when Richie joined them for a movie or card game. He would scoot to make room, letting Richie sit next to him. Mary would pretended to be annoyed, huffing that Richie needed his own friends but he knew she didn’t mind. The two of them got along really well and Richie was going to miss her like hell when she left for college in a few short months- not that he would ever tell her that. 

“Eddie, will you be staying over tonight?” Maggie asked as they finished eating.

Eddie nodded. “If that’s okay Mrs. Tozier.” 

“Maggie,” Both Mary and Maggie chided, in the same tone. 

“It’s always okay.” Maggie added, “we love having at least one child who will do the dishes.” She said, looking pointedly at Richie and Mary.

“I’m always happy to help.” Eddie said, rising from his seat and gathering the dishes.

“Me too! I’ll help,” Richie said, moving quickly to grab the other plates. He ignored the knowing grin from his sister and followed Eddie to the kitchen. “I’ll wash if you dry?” He offered, knowing that Eddie hated pruny fingers.

Eddie nodded, grabbing a dishrag. They worked in silence for a few minutes then Eddie glanced up at him. “You know, Went said I should move in, seems you only help with dishes when I’m here.”

“I-” Richie felt himself flush. “That’s not true. The old man is just getting senile.” 

“Sure,” Eddie said, bumping his shoulder against Richie’s. Richie felt the touch down his entire right side. “I wasn’t complaining.”

“You like doing dishes Eds?” Richie teased, handing him a plate.

“I like doing them with you.” Eddie said, letting their hands brush as he took the plate. Richie grew an even brighter red, trying to make his brain form any sort of coherent sentence. 

Before he could though Mary appeared. “Eddie! Come on, let’s watch that new rom com on netflix. It looks terrible and I want to make fun of it.” She said, nudging his side. 

Eddie hesitated, still looking at Richie as Mary went to gran an armful of snacks.

“Eddie? Come on, you don’t actually have to do dishes, you don’t live here.” She said, grabbing his elbow. “Not yet at least.” It was a constant offer, that Eddie always had a room here if he needed it, if his mom was ever too much. Eddie had already shown up multiple times with red eyes, Went making him cocoa while Maggie talked to him. Mary and Richie tried to listen from the stairs but they never quite heard what Maggie said, only that Eddie would thank her afterwards. It made Richie hate Eddie’s mom fiercely- and appreciate his own even more.

“I know I-” Eddie met Richie’s eyes and for a split second Richie desperately wished that his sister had held off for just a few more minutes. Then Eddie smiled. “We’ll finish that conversation later.” 

“Deal.” Richie said, bobbing his head as Eddie finally let Mary lead him away. He heard Mary ask what they’d been talking about and Eddie smoothly lied, saying they were debating comic books. Richie’s heart was still hammering as he heard Mary’s door slam, a sign that he was not invited to the movie night. Richie didn’t mind, he wanted the next time he talked to Eddie to be alone, just them.

@wheezyeds​  @constantreaderfool​  @jem-carstairs-is-perfection​  @moonlightrichie​ ​ ​ @lifesucksheres20bucks​ @thorn-harvester-ven​ @eddiefuckinkaspbrak​ @andaleduardo @xandertheundead @s-s-georgie​​  @roobarrtrashmouth​ @njess04​ ​ @gczebos​ @kasp-brakz​ @sourmoist​ @playing-jim​ @princesass-theresa​ @mimiharu​ @kaspbrak-tozier-reddie​ @no-she-wasnt-reddie  @oldguybones​ @sloppybitxch   @sedanleystanley​ @kaspbrak-king​ @ticomat​ @hadererer @da-damned @purplepoisonedgem​ @sparklingrainbowdragon @richietoaster @sxndythinkstoomuch @overcastedhills​ @trashmouthtozierr @blondekasp​ @richiezvoid​ @thebriarpatch​