#this one is more loosely based off the dream since it had a much less well defined plot but what it did have was a very defined artstyle

[chisatowo]

Oh video game ideas inspired by dreams that I've had we're really in for it now

#rat rambles #oc posting #I got reminded of the horror one from a song and ig now this is my night #this one is more loosely based off the dream since it had a much less well defined plot but what it did have was a very defined artstyle #also an ending jumpscare but thats not relevant #but yeah basically it followed this girl trapped in a seemingly endless path of solid stone walled rooms #she and the rest of the characters where drawn in a scribbly pencil artstyle and it had a very eerey atmophere #it also was like rly dark and themed around like choice and relationships and stuff #but less so of ur choices have concequences and more so fear of concequence wont save you if that makes sense? #that stuff is still a center point of the stories general vibe but nowadays its more complex #yada yada themes of mental illness and how it effects your ability to relate to and communicaye with those around you #and how trapped and powerless that confusion can make you feel as if nothing you can do will be correct #and also abt neurodivergence's effects on that too and how tempting it can be to just try to become someone's npc #and how that never works well #idk its hard to talk abt since its like. A Lot. but its not like Ill ever actually make it so I might talk abt it more at some point

[ddarker-dreams]

A Chance Encounter.

Yan Scaramouche x Reader.

Loosely based on this concept.

Warnings: Only light yandere themes since Reader doesn't know about Scara's Harbinger affiliation. Word count: 1.1k.

Scaramouche could succinctly describe this assignment as a pain.

Some whistleblower whose conscience got the better of her in retirement, realizing now that she’s living off a measly pension instead of a steady stream of income that perhaps experimentation on unwitting subjects is actually not so dandy. How convenient. Moral epiphanies have the best timing. Or in the Harbinger’s case, the worst timing, since this trip to Mondstadt was supposed to be for pleasure, not business. 

He occupies a space beneath a sizable canopy. Shadows swallow him, occasionally chased off by shy sunlight wriggling through interstices born from the steady wind. The weather is fair compared to the everlasting winter that wrings all life from Snezhnaya. This nation is perfectly idyllic, perfectly boring, save for a single inhabitant who is notably exempt from his criticism. 

If it weren’t for the invisible yet no less present Fatui agents slinking about, he’d give in to the urge to quirk his lips upward. 

At least when this is wrapped up, he can see you. 

The matter shouldn’t take much longer. In written correspondence with the would-be traitor, he played the role of a bleeding heart, successfully blindsiding her into thinking he shares her plight. Now all that remains is to meet up with her and discern if the supposedly damning documents hold any weight or not. The rest can be left to his lackeys, he’d rather not waste any more time when he could be engaging in far more enjoyable activities. 

This is about as cut and dry as it gets. 

Except… 

Rapid footsteps approach. 

Foliage crunches beneath the heel of an exuberant individual, smothering leaves and snapping twigs. 

“Kuuuuuniiiiiii!” A voice he knows very well calls out. 

There is but a single entity throughout all of Teyvat who actively runs toward him, not away from him, and this entity so happens to be you. The concept of shame is a foreign one, you’re far too concerned with utilizing various flourishes to capture his attention. The fanfare is without reason. The instant you enter the scene, Scaramouche scarcely remembers the rest of the world exists, it becomes as inconsequential as the ground he treads on. 

You are a fallen star streaming through the sky, an answer to a wish he never had the courage to make. 

Unfortunately, you’ve happened upon him at a tricky juncture. The Fatui swarming like sharks in the water are prepared to tear into you at his command. From their perspective, you are an unknown variable running full force at their Lord Harbinger. Never in their wildest dreams could they fathom the notoriously spiteful Balladeer has a sweet spot for you, this is by his design. He’s painstakingly taken measures to ensure his little ball of sunshine can’t be used by his many enemies. 

The wave he gives serves two purposes — to greet you and signal his men to stand down. 

As if he wasn’t already thrown off-kilter by your abrupt appearance, when you’re at the appropriate distance, you launch at him with arms held wide. He catches you with an ease unfitting of his slender demeanor, his strength far surpassing that of any mortal. You’re content to wrap your arms around his neck while he steadies you. 

“I knew it was you! The hat gave it away. It always does,” you explain in between breaths. “And here I was thinking that you wouldn’t be in for a few more days.” 

Slowly, he helps ease you back down. You sway a bit, clutching his shoulders to maintain your balance, to which he snickers. “Were you so desperate to see me that running at a reasonable pace slipped your mind?” 

“I thought if I exerted more force, I might be able to tackle you to the ground this time… so much for that.” 

“Hah. As if. What strange fantasies you entertain without me around. The loneliness must rot your brain.” 

“Who says I’m lonely?” You challenge, tilting your head to the side. “I’m more than capable of making and maintaining friendships. That’s what happens when you’re a likable person.” 

He’s quick to reply so as not to betray his irritation at the idea. “You? Likable? The mental deterioration is worse than I feared. I hope it isn’t irreversible at this stage.” 

You shrug. “I dunno, you seem to like me well enough. I consider that my crowning achievement. If I can win you over I’m capable of anything. Maybe I’ll aim for world peace next.” 

Scaramouche is so quick to be swept up in the wild tide that is you that his bumbling underlings temporarily slipped his mind. Lately, there’s been one in particular who seems keen on proving himself worthy of a promotion. He goes out of his way to do extra work Scaramouche never tasked him with. It’s been a minor nuisance yet nothing major has come from it. 

However, in his purview, he senses this sycophant taking a position that’d be advantageous to strike at you from. 

Scaramouche’s retaliation is immediate. On a perfectly sunny day, a vicious bolt of lightning strikes mere inches from the spot he occupies, effectively communicating his lord’s displeasure. The white-hot flash earns your attention. You turn your head in the direction it came from, then shoot him an inquisitive glance. 

“... What did that bush ever do wrong?” 

“You’d be surprised.” 

The warning must’ve made it through the agent’s thick head, for he backs off like a dog with its tail between its legs. 

“Hey. I have some business I need to finish, then I’ll treat you to dinner,” Scaramouche knows you well enough to be confident that the idea of delicious food will successfully distract you. It’s as he predicted — he can practically hear the gears turning in your head as you form plans. He can only hope he doesn’t have to encounter that slovenly excuse of a god who once serenaded you with the story of an abandoned doll, claiming it to be a ‘cautionary tale’. The self-restraint he exercised that day is second to none. 

“Alright, but try to leave some nature standing, this is a trail I enjoy walking. I’d rather you don’t eviscerate it.” 

You begin to part ways, before loudly proclaiming ‘oh!’, like you’d forgotten something important. Then you’re back by his side. He processes the feeling before anything else, the soft sensation of your lips on his cheek renders him speechless. A crimson hue dusts against his pale cheeks as he subconsciously raises his hand to touch the still-tingling spot. Content with yourself, you depart, waving as enthusiastically as you had earlier. 

When his coherency returns, he sighs. That was a bit more than he’d prefer any Fatui-aligned person to see.

He’ll have to get creative to explain the deaths of all his men on such a low-stakes mission. Before that, however, he needs to ask one to hand the appropriate forms over, lest it disintegrate to ash as they’re fated to. 

It’s a pain, truly, but you’re worth the extra effort. 

#yandere scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #scaramouche brainrot #my stuff

[fettuccin-e]

The Wonderful Way Things Change

A/N: hi there everyone... shamefully, very shamefully, I have not posted anything original since i think like february. it was an unplanned hiatus! promise it was completely unplanned, this semester just really kicked my ass lol. BUT HERE WE ARE! with matt smut of course how could I not because he is the loml so please enjoy! love you!

Description: Based off this ask, and can be read as a loose sequel to this (my first ever fanfic oh boy oh boy). In which Foggy calls you to check in on Matt, and the sight of your boyfriend all disheveled in a suit is making you a tad desperate. Thankfully, neither of you have the self-control to keep your hands to yourselves.

Tags: Matt Murdock x Reader, afab!fem!reader, no use of y/n, smut like so much smut who do you think I am, fucking Matty in a suit, oral (f!recieving), unprotected piv (pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids) (w/c: 2.5K)

Yours and Matt’s relationship is new, somewhat, but you both know that it’s been a long time coming. It’s only been a few weeks since he finally kissed you for the first time, since he healed your poor, pining heart. It’s not like other relationships you’ve had, with the talking stage at the beginning, where you’re still asking each other about your childhoods, favorite movies, and songs. You and Matt already know everything about each other.

He knows about your shitty job that you hate but manages to pay the bills. He knows all about your childhood, all of your hopes and dreams. Up until a few weeks ago, the only secret you’d kept from him was your frankly ridiculous crush on him.

But you know that it’s the same way for him. You already know about Daredevil, and to Matt’s unending surprise, you accept him, love him for who he is. You don’t want him to give up either side of himself; you’re happy to just have him. Matt is still trying to get used to the feeling of actually having you, instead of just being by your side, letting you slip through his fingers.

Up until a few weeks ago, Matt had resigned himself to only being your friend. The friendship he’d found in you at Columbia would remain just that. Unbeknownst to him, you’d resigned yourself the exact same way. But a misunderstanding and a frustrated and ridiculously dramatic love confession later, you’d finally kissed him like he’d only dreamed of. You’d allowed him to touch you like he’d always wanted, and Matt could swear that he’s never felt anything softer, never tasted anything sweeter than you.

So the relationship is new, but it also feels like you and Matt have just been waiting, settling into routines like you’ve been together for years. You know how Matt is, how he’ll bury himself into cases and recordings and court documents, searching for that one bit of evidence that proves his client is innocent. He sends Foggy and Karen home on nights like these, insisting that they need to sleep, that they work too hard as is.

“He’s gonna be there for hours,” Foggy tells you over the phone. “You’ve gotta get him out of there or he’s going to collapse.” You laugh, pulling on your coat and stepping out of Matt’s apartment. 

Ever since you had both confessed your feelings for each other, and Matt had finally, finally taken you to bed, you had more or less moved in. It hadn’t been intentional, nor had Matt officially asked you, but the one time you had broached the subject of maybe sleeping at your own apartment, Matt’s arms had wrapped around you, holding you to him while he pressed desperate kisses all over your face and neck, telling you that his apartment was so cold without you there.

“C’mon, sweetheart, haven’t we spent more than enough time apart?” he had murmured, and you had agreed.

“Yeah, alright Fog, I’m heading over there now. I’ll make sure you have a well-rested partner by tomorrow,” you giggle into the phone, and you laughed even harder at Foggy’s genuine sigh of relief.

“Christ, how did Nelson, Murdock and Page survive without you and Matt together?”

“It’s truly a mystery, Foggy,” you tease, and Foggy laughs with you. He keeps you on the phone the entire walk to their office building, filling you in on the cases he, Karen, and Matt are working on. You could talk to Foggy for hours, really, but he lets you go as you walk up the steps to their offices. With a promise to talk soon, maybe take a trip to Josie’s, you hang up, shoving your phone into your coat pocket.

You can hear the recording Matt is listening to through the door to his office, some judge droning on and on. You enter the room quietly, heart beating wildly at Matt in his sharp suit, without his glasses, hair mussed from his fingers running through it the way they usually do when he’s working through a case. You watch as a smile blooms across his pretty lips, his eyes lifting to your direction as he pauses the recording.

“Hi, baby,” he says, and his sheer beauty in that moment nearly brings you to your knees. This man, with his hair sticking up in every direction, his tie slightly loosened at his chest, big brown eyes and wide smile is yours. All yours. You can’t help how your heart beats even harder at the thought.

You watch his grin meld into a knowing smirk as he listens to the quick pattering of your heartbeat. “Something got you worked up, sweetheart?”

You hum, crossing the room to where he sits in his office chair. “Oh, you know,” you drawl, trying to keep your voice coy and light, even though you know that your heart is giving away your sudden desperation for the man in front of you. “I’m just thinking about all of the things I get to do now.”

“To me?” He’s playing coy too, trying to goad you.

“Always to you, Matty,” you giggle, and he chuckles in return. You swing a leg over his lap, straddling him and relishing in how his chuckle morphs into a choked gasp. 

“What- What kinds of things, gorgeous?” his voice is breathier now, beautifully affected by your actions.

“Just how I can do things like this,” you wrap your hand into his tie, tugging him towards your mouth. “And things like this-” you breathe over his mouth, before capturing his pretty, enticing lips with your own.

Matt groans into the kiss, smoothing his hands over your hips before reaching behind you to grab your ass in his big, thick hands, tugging you further up his lap. Your clothed pussy rests just over the bulge of his cock through his slacks, and you can feel it thickening beneath you. 

“And you call me worked up, Matty?” you murmur against his mouth, wiggling in his lap and pulling a soft moan from his lips.

“When my gorgeous girlfriend walks into my office, smelling like my apartment and so fucking soft on top of me,” he says, squeezing your ass again, “how can you expect me to be calm, baby?”

Your stomach bursts into butterflies at the title. You’re his girlfriend. He’s your boyfriend. It feels so very juvenile, like you’re twenty years old again and still trying to get through calculus class. Maybe it’s because you’ve been waiting that long. Waiting for him, since you first met him and Foggy at Columbia. It feels so far away now, so different, and yet, you still burn bright and warm with Matt’s attention on you. Calling you his girlfriend.

He shifts his hips under yours, the bulge of his thick cock against your pussy impossible to ignore, and you whine, just barely, but Matt hears. Of course he does.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “So fucking needy.” He lurches forward again to press his lips to yours, licking into your mouth. 

“Please, Matty,” you whisper, and he groans into your mouth all over again. He doesn’t separate his mouth from yours as he lifts you against him, using a hand to brush the cumbersome documents and files off the desk behind you, before laying you softly against it, running his hands over your waist and kissing you like you’re something precious. 

But you are, Matt knows that you are the most precious thing in the fucking world. And you want him. Matt can hardly believe it sometimes; he still sometimes thinks he’s dreaming when he feels you in the morning, pressed tight against him, your heart calm and steady with sleep.

He licks into your mouth like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, and what a way to go. He could stay in this moment forever, kissing you while your hands tangle into his hair. But your sexy little whines are echoing around him, your hips moving in desperate little circles against the aching bulge in his slacks.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he whispers, and you just whine louder. It’s a nearly painful thing, taking his lips from yours, but he can fucking smell your arousal, and the need to dive between your thighs is suddenly too much for him to handle. 

You kind of want to cry when Matt breaks your kiss, but your mourning at the loss of his lips is quickly cut short by his thick, calloused hands pushing your skirt up your thighs, leaving the material to bunch around your waist. He nudges his nose against your clit through your panties, taking a deep breath in through his nose, savoring it, and you nearly black out.

“Oh- oh my God,” you stutter, and Matt smirks in that ridiculously cocky way you hate that you love.

“I mean, I go by Matt, but if you want to call me God-” Matt starts, tugging your panties down your legs.

“Matthew Michael Murdock, I swear-” You want to continue, you really do, but it’s really hard to keep your train of thought when Matt is leaning down and licking a long stripe up your soaked pussy, swirling around your clit and making your hips buck up uncontrollably. He quickly braces a forearm over your twitching body, holding you still with his strength while he eats your pretty cunt.

“So fucking wet for me, gorgeous,” he mutters between your thighs, the vibrations feeling like shockwaves up your spine. “So pretty, baby, could’ve been eating this pretty cunt since college.”

You can barely form a sentence, only able to utter out whines of Matt, Matt Matt, between desperate moans as he licks into you. You can feel him grinning into your cunt, knowing he’s driving you fucking crazy, before he’s drawing up to capture your throbbing clit into his mouth and sucks. He brings his free hand up to sink a thick finger into your needy entrance, crooking it up and pressing into a spot inside that makes white creep into the edges of your vision. He just sucks and sucks, swirling his tongue around our achy clit and playing with you like a toy.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, unexpected and brutal, and you would have thrashed off the desk if it weren’t for Matt’s strong arms holding you steady. He carries you through it, licking at you softly while he keeps his finger inside, giving your pussy something to clutch onto. As your hips finally stop twitching, Matt rises, leaning over you again, and you can’t help but tug at his tie again, dragging his mouth to yours, uncaring of the taste of your pussy covering his lips.

“Please fuck me, Matty, oh god, please. Need you in me, baby,” you whine, and you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed at how needy you sound. Matt groans, sounding just as desperate as he licks into your mouth. He takes his hands from your body to reach down, undoing his belt and slacks just enough to tug his aching cock out. He’s so hard it’s nearly painful, the head sticky and red and throbbing with the need to fuck you. To claim you.

You wrap your arms over his back, tucking your head into the crook of his neck as he sinks into your sensitive pussy. As he finally bottoms out, you lean back to look at him, at his big eyes staring just off your face, his mouth slightly agape.

“I thought about this, y’know,” you whisper, your nails digging into his back as he presses just a bit deeper inside. “Every time I brought you guys lunch, I-” you moan softly as Matt thrusts, hard and so fucking deep you swear you swear you can feel him in your guts. “I thought about you, fucking me on this desk, in-in this fucking suit, god, Matt.”

“Shit, baby,” he grunts, rocking into you so hard the desk rattles beneath you. You can barely pay attention to it, not when the tip of Matt’s thick cock is grinding into the spot inside you that makes you scream, your nails digging into the soft fabric covering his back. “I thought about you too, god, you have no idea, sweetheart.” You can only whine in response as he continues, “You’d bring us all lunch, wearing your little uniform, fuck, with that pretty skirt and those heels.”

Matt’s hands tighten over your hips, forcing you to meet him thrust for thrust, and it’s so fucking good. You can’t manage to answer him through your desperate whines of his name and choked moans as his thick cock stretches you out for him, but Matt’s still talking. You don’t know if he can stop.

“I could hear your thighs brushing together under that tight fucking skirt, your heels clicking up the hall, and all I could think about was ruining you. Ripping that skirt off you and making you beg for my cock,” he grunts, driving desperately into your soaked pussy. Your head is swimming, drowning in Matt’s words, his scent, his cock.

“Now I can, baby,” he grunts, voice breaking on a choked moan. “I can fuck you just how I’ve wanted, make this pretty pussy soak my cock. Can wake up to you in my bed, fuck you whenever I want, whenever you want, baby, fuck I’m yours. You hear me, angel? I’m yours.” Matt can feel your pussy fluttering desperately around his cock, and snakes a hand between your bodies to press a thumb over your clit. 

He leans over you, his tie loose and dangling over your face as he growls, “and you’re mine. Mine.”

And you’re gone, pussy tightening like a vice around Matt’s thick cock, screaming his name. Little tears escape your eyes, dripping down your cheeks as Matt groans your name in return, hips stuttering into yours and flooding your overwhelmed pussy with his cum. You can hear him, just barely, through the roar of blood in your ears as he whispers, “So good, baby, so perfect. Love you so much, so much, you have no idea. I love you, loved you for so fucking long, angel.”

You bring your hands up to tangle your fingers into his soft hair, bringing him to your lips, whispering a soft “I love you so much, Matty,” in return before meeting him in a soft kiss. His smile against your mouth is blinding, endlessly joyful, and slightly delirious.

He’s still buried inside you a few minutes later, when you finally whisper, “I’m not sure this is what Foggy had in mind when he sent me over here.”

“If this is what Foggy had in mind, I might have to send him a fruit basket, or buy him a round,” Matt chuckles, and you smack him lightly on the shoulder before you’re laughing too. Matt smiles, unable to believe that you’re his, before he cuts your giggling off with a loving kiss.

#hey I'm back #with daredevil smut #what else did you expect #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock smut #daredevil x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil smut #daredevil fanfiction

[cuubism]

Déjà vu, Déjà connu

[AO3]

based on dreamlings' post

I’m here because… I’m interested.

The words circle Dream’s mind. A spiral of questions with no answer. Interested. Interested. Hob’s hands on his hips. Hob’s mouth along his throat.

In me?

No, Dream thinks. Hob’s fingers inside him, pressing buttons untouched for centuries with the brutality and care of an experienced lover. Yes, yes, maybe, yes.

--

1503.

Dream lies in bed, afterwards, loose and languid. Looking up at the dark wood paneling of the ceiling, the fine grains and whorls of it. Contemplating.

Hob settles back on the mattress beside him, laughs. “I’ve never seen someone thinking so hard after sex.”

“Perhaps I am grading you,” Dream says, and Hob laughs harder.

“Oh, yeah? What score’d I get, then? ‘Cuz I’ll tell you, I never been to proper school, but I have a pretty good bedroom education.”

Dream’s lips tip up in an unwitting smile. Hob is looser, like this. Free and charming, when he does not know who Dream is. Does not think he is a demon, or the devil come to claim his soul. Just a passing traveler in an inn.

Dream had not intended to run into him. He had not intended to see Hob at all until their next scheduled meeting ninety or so years from today. He had come to the waking world for a quick errand, hunting after an occult artifact he’d heard might be in the area.

He’d draped himself in a different form than usual so as to leave less of a trail. Not so different from his usual shape, still lean and angular because it felt right to be barely of flesh, to slip into the shadows between things. But his hair was shorter and lighter than when he’d last seen Hob, his eyes a muted brown, face softer.

Dream did not take much note of his own appearance, most of the time, but Jessamy had advised him to tone down the drama, so Dream had—again to borrow her words—shaved off the more striking edges of his form. Made himself more nondescript.

And then—leaving an unproductive meeting with an artifacts dealer who did not have what he needed, and frustrated for it – he had stumbled into Hob. Hob, who wore this era well, settled into his immortality in the decade and a half since their meeting. Whose auspicious printing trade seemed to be treating him nicely. 

“Whoa, now,” Hob had said, steadying him by the arm as they brushed past each other. They had never touched before, and Dream had stared at the point where Hob’s hand held him. Hob had looked him up and down un-subtly. “Haven’t seen you around here before, have I?” 

“I am just leaving,” Dream had said, making for the door of the inn. 

Hob hadn’t blocked his way, but he had called out. “Sure I can’t convince you to stay for a drink?”

And Dream—he had been frustrated. The waking world made him itch at the best of times, and to have his time wasted to boot—

And Hob was—interesting. Dream was loath to admit this, but his company at their last meeting had been engaging. Left Dream wanting to know more in a way he usually did not, with people.

He should have left. Instead, he had stopped. “If you are buying,” he’d said, because he’d felt it was a more human response than entertain me with your stories, Hob Gadling.

He had turned back just in time to see Hob’s brilliant grin. “Pretty thing like you?” he had said. “Anything you want.”

This, Dream had thought, as he’d followed Hob over to a table, was a Hob closer to the one he had first encountered in 1389 than the one he’d last seen. Rakish, confident, swaggering. Then again, Hob had walked into their last meeting thinking Dream intended to claim his soul, so Dream supposed he could forgive him the break in self-assurance.

The ease of him in that moment drew something in Dream towards him, like a moon caught in planetary gravity.

He had not given Hob a name, and Hob had not given him his, though of course Dream knew it. Secrecy, anonymity, half-hidden glances caught in firelight, words half-spoken and left hanging in implication. This was not a scene, a moment, Dream had experienced outside of stories. But, like a story, it had drawn him in, caught him in the web Hob had unintentionally spun around him, just with his presence. 

Not much felt new to Dream, but this had. He had never been propositioned over a drink before. He had never been eyed up over ale left untouched, unspoken thoughts so bare in the looks laid upon him. He had never been led into the dark corner of a tavern, and felt up with such daring familiarity, or pulled upstairs to a shadowed bedroom, and fucked slow and good like he was not just a casual lay but a lodestone. 

He had never taken a human lover. Every lover in Dream’s past had known who he was, what he was. 

He had never been treated so casually, moved around so easily, his lover ignorant of the dangers of him. And he had never been looked at with such regard by one who did not know his station. For Hob’s looks were by turns heavy and playful but never, never casual. Did he treat all his lovers thus?

Dream should not have allowed any of it. He had thought so, to himself, over and over. Hob kissing up his neck—I should not allow this—Hob tangling a fist in his hair and pulling his head back—I should not allow this—Hob pushing inside him—I should not allow this—Hob kissing him so tenderly afterward—I should not—

“You were adequate,” he tells Hob now, and Hob laughs, raucous and loud. 

Dream has allowed it, and now he remembers why he should not. Because now that he has had it, he craves it, the weight and heft of Hob’s body, and his sweet lips, and the heat of him. Hob has surprised him with his care and carefulness and consideration. He is greedy, yes, for life and for sensation, and he takes, yes, but he also gives. He gives and gives. 

“Tough crowd,” Hob complains, goodnaturedly. His look upon Dream is fond and indulgent. “Do I at least get to retake the exam?”

“Have you studied?” Dream asks. He drags a hand down the muscles of Hob’s arm, feeling the warmth of his skin. 

Hob leans in and tugs on the lobe of his ear with his teeth. “I’ll make a study of you as long as you let me.”

It has been long, very long, since Dream has had a lover. The singular attention is blinding.

“Do your best, then, and perhaps there will be a reward if you pass,” Dream says, and Hob flows back on top of him. There is experience in every movement of him, and it’s intoxicating.

Do not allow it, Dream thinks. Once inside, it will latch, as all his lovers have, and he will be caught, even if only in his own mind.

Hob’s hands catch under his jaw and tip his head up into a kiss.

He allows it.

--

“I feel like I met you before,” Hob muses, after, a hand to Dream’s jaw. Familiar, so familiar. Dream doesn’t deny him. “But I definitely would have remembered.”

Dream’s pulse flutters despite himself, and he’s not sure if it’s concern over being recognized or something else. “Would you?”

Hob scrutinizes him. “For sure. But. I don’t know, it’s not coming to me, so maybe I’m just imagining things.”

“Maybe so,” Dream agrees.

Hob’s lips twist in a wry smile. “So helpful, you are. Maybe this, maybe that. I see you, mysterious figure in the night.”

“Mysterious?” Dream echoes. This form is far more human, more mundane, than his usual shape. He has kept himself very contained within the bounds of reason.

Hob taps his forehead. “You’re all question marks. Bet you like it that way.”

“Maybe so,” Dream says, and Hob laughs. And Dream feels a burst of fondness for him, for the way he takes things in stride, his generosity in so easily allowing Dream his secrets, his endless joy in life displayed at their last meeting and even more brightly now. 

“Maybe maybe maybe, ” Hob says. “Maybe I’ll run into you again sometime?”

“In your dreams, perhaps,” Dream says. Hob chuckles like he’s made a joke, but Dream is not sure that he was not serious. He could… find himself wanting this. He could find himself starving for it. Hob drags a hand up and down his arm, light but proprietary, and Dream shouldn’t let him do that, but he does not pull away.

“Telling me to dream about you isn’t going to help me let you go,” Hob says.

“You would hold on so tightly after only one night?” Dream asks.

“You don’t get more nights if you don’t hold on,” says Hob.

No, Dream thinks, as he steals away later that night, slipping out from under Hob’s arm in the darkness to return to the Dreaming. No, I suppose you do not.

#ok i added this as a reblog to the og post too but buns insists i post it myself for tagging purposes and she knows better #than my allergic-to-self-promotion ass so #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling fic #my writing #deja vu deja connu #more soon or at least eventually

[xelizabethvalentinex]

Heat of the Moment // Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

Summary: You and Bradley have your first real argument

Word Count: 1.5k

Your night went badly very quickly. It started great. You and Bradley had spent the morning together, lazing on the couch watching a new television show you two started. You made lunch and ate it at the beach close to your shared house on the base. After swimming for a little, you headed home to get ready for a night out at the Hard Deck. Bradley's friends/coworkers had arranged a night for all the pilots and their families to have fun. Upon arrival, slightly late due to Bradley's indecisiveness when it came to choosing which Hawaiian shirt to wear, all of the flight crew was excited to see the two of you.

After a couple drinks and a few rounds of pool with Hangman and Payback, everyone was a little loose. You hadn't seen Bradley in about thirty minutes, but you could hear his boisterous laughter across the bar. Phoenix had joined the three of you at some point, and that's when the conversation of the mission started. There wasn't much being said, due to you being a civilian, but you heard that they would be leaving in two days. You were confused. You thought that Bradley would tell you that his friends were headed on a mission, but he hadn't said anything about it.

"Bradley didn't tell me you guys were leaving for a mission without him," you stated while throwing a dart. There was a small pause in the conversation around you.

Phoenix looked at you with a look that told you all that you needed to know. "He didn't tell you? He's coming with us," she explained. That's when you started getting angry. Your boyfriend, who you have been dating for over a year, had neglected to tell you he was leaving again. You furrowed your eyebrows together, trying to piece together what was going on, but you were coming up blank. Instead of answering Phoenix, you made your way towards Bradley. You could spot him from a mile away. His gorgeous tan skin looked golden under the bar lights and, because of his height, he stood above the rest.

As soon as you were within eyesight, he locked eyes with you and could sense your anger. You stepped into his personal space before spitting out, "Outside. Now." He had no choice but to follow you. It was his turn to be confused.

When you stepped outside, the smell of the ocean and the feel of the cool air calmed you slightly. Being so close to the ocean was something you dreamed of since you were a child, and Bradley knew that. That's what made you and Bradley so perfect for each other.

You turned on your heel so quickly that Bradley slammed into you, making you lose your footing. His hand grabs your forearm to steady you, but you tug yourself free. "Phoenix just told me you're leaving in less than forty-eight hours. Care to explain yourself?" You ask as your cross your arms over your chest.

Your boyfriend's expression was confused, but it changed to annoyance soon after. "So what if I hadn't told you. It wasn't one of the first things I needed to do before I left." You were shocked. You could tell he had more to drink than you had, but that wasn't an excuse to be rude to you.

"What do you mean 'so what?' Were you planning on telling me at all?" At this point, you were fuming. You could feel your face heating up in anger. When he didn't answer and kept that annoyed look on his face, it made things even worse. "Were you planning on just up and leaving on Monday before I woke up?"

"Maybe. I don't know. It's not that big of a deal," he stated. The way he was acting nonchalant about this whole situation was pissing you off.

You scoffed. "What has got into you? You aren't acting like you," you stated as you took a step back. Bradley shrugged. "I can't believe you. You are acting like a total ass. I get if you were putting it off for a good time to tell me, but that time has passed. I understand you have things to do before you leave, but I live in the same house as you. Do you think I would be okay waking up to you gone?" It was a rhetorical question, but when he went to answer, you cut him off. "You know what, I don't want to know what you were thinking. All I know is that you made a big mistake. I'm going home alone right now, and you need to give me time to cool off," you declared. You were out of breath by the end of your tangent, but you turned on your heel and went back inside. You grabbed your purse, paid for your tab, and went out the front door to get a taxi to take you home. You enter the dark home and felt sad. Instead of feeling angry toward your boyfriend, you felt sad that this was how he was going to leave. With you angry and he annoyed. As soon as your head hit the pillow, you started crying, and it didn't take long for you to fall asleep. When you woke up, the house was silent. On Sundays, Bradley would wake before you and start making a big breakfast, but today, there was no smell of coffee or bacon. There was no music blasting through the record player you bought Bradley for his most recent birthday after he broke his and he could no longer play all of his father's records. It was enough to make you tear up again. Once you finished shedding a couple of tears while scrolling through your phone, you pulled yourself out of bed to make the best of your day. You hadn't received any texts from your boyfriend, which made you feel even worse, so you didn't know where he was. As much as you wanted to ask him where he was, you wanted him to make the first move towards reconciliation. The shower felt nice. It was enough to burn your skin and distract you from your relationship situation. After stepping out and drying off with a towel, you heard a knock on the front door. It was enough to startle you. Quickly throwing on a shirt, Bradley's of course, and some sweatpants, you rushed downstairs with your hair wrapped in a towel. In hindsight, you should have peeked through the peephole to see who was standing on the other side of the door because when you threw the door open, your boyfriend startled you once more. Bradley stood on your shared front porch with a beautiful bouquet of roses, looking nervous. The sight before you made no sense, but you opened the door for him. "You have a key," you stated as you started walking into the kitchen. His eyes were on you while he followed you. You grabbed a vase for the flowers, waiting for him to give you some sort of explanation. "I know, but after last night, I didn't want to upset you further by showing up while you were asleep," Bradley whispered. His eyes were now staring at the counter, and his hands were in his pockets. You sighed before taking the flowers off the counter to put them in water. "It's still your house too." You weren't giving him much to work with, but you weren't going to until he gave you what you needed. Bradley looked up at you from across the island. Even though you two were under the same roof, there was still a distance between you, both physically and emotionally. "Look, what I did was wrong. What I said was wrong. In all honesty, I got wrapped up spending time with you that I forgot to tell you. I planned on telling you because not telling you would be a total jerk move, and we've been through too many missions to start that now, but I handled the confrontation wrong. I'm sorry for making you feel bad, and I want to make up with you before I have to leave." There was something about the way his voice was quiet, and he couldn't seem to maintain eye contact that made you feel horrible.

"I'm sorry too. I got angry, and I could've handled it a little better," you said as you made your way toward him. He met you halfway around the island and pulled you flush against his body. His clothes had been recently washed, but not with your detergent, which threw you off.

"You have every right to be as mad as you were. I messed up, and you put me in my place. Sometimes, that's what I need," your boyfriend mumbled into your hair. You rested your ear over his heart to let your nerves settle. He was back with you, and you weren't about to let him out of sight for the next day.

"Where did you stay last night," you asked, curiosity getting the best of you.

"Hangman's place," Bradley answered.

You whipped your head up to look at him. "You have to tell me all about it."

He chuckled and led you to the couch. "I'll tell you the events after you left last night if we can go to the grocery store so I can make you your favorite meal," he bargained.

"You've got yourself a deal."

#rooster x reader #rooster imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster Bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #top gun maverick

[helpyourselfwithcherrywine]

Haytham's Journal Entry

A/N: This is just something I wrote to help me get this brain fog out of my head to finish the other WIPs I have sitting in Word. This is loosely based off the idea prompt list I posted a couple of days ago. Btw I'm am terrible with titles.

Love Letters to My beloved

Haytham x reader

April 1795

My Love,

I wish you could see me now, I wish you were here. Your flowers are in full bloom, the roses shine their red and pink hues. The apple tree as well is at full bloom as well as the tulips and marigolds . The sun as warm as the love you had very little time to show me. I made sure to put some of them at your grave. I miss you, the bed is too cold for me, the kitchen is too empty, the living room and your study is too quiet for my liking. I think back to the short time we spent together, one of my many regrets in this life. Not spending enough time with you and putting the order first strained us. We drifted apart and I found love with another. It wasn't until we were almost done with life that I found you again. Training Connor no less, finding out you had been raising him since his mother's death. In all reality, I was lost at the time. Realizing my whole life had been a lie, that the Order I followed was responsible for the many misfortunes in life. When you found me again, I had little care for myself and no care for any other. Then when everyone was slowing dying, you offered the suggestion to leave the order and disappear into the night. I took it, simply because I was too tired to fight back. That and I know, fighting you and Connor were things I simply did not have the strength to do. I know I didn't have enough time to show you how much I loved you, but I could not see you die by my hand, nor Connor for that manner. Then the 5 years we spent together were grand, but very short. The day you died, I cried until I had no tears left to cry. You promised me would not leave me again and you lied. You promised. You would scold me if you saw me now. I wanted more time with you, needed more time with you- I love you, you were too good for a man like me. Your outer beauty complimented your inner beauty. The tenderness you gave to me makes me miss you and yearn for you more each passing day I dream of you often, hoping I see you soon. Connor comes by when he can, he brings my granddaughters by and they get bigger and bigger. You would have love them. My heart will forever be yours, no matter what. My biggest hope is to be united with you in the afterlife and spend the eternity of time loving you the way you should've been loved from the start.

I hope to see you soon, my love

- Haytham

#reader insert #haytham kenway #assasin's creed 3 #haytham kenway x reader #connor kenway #haytham kenway x y/n

[majycka]

Taking nerd Makishima Shogo’s advice cuz he can’t shut up about books (or at least quote them in like every episode)

Aka a word vomit of me trying to relate Psycho Pass and Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? 

Taken from that scene where Makishima Shogo flexes his big brain-nes for like the 923984844993th time, and of course, they usually MEAN something. Starting from each media’s world building and themes, there are similarities that are integral to why exactly Shogo would even recommend this book in the first place.

So first off, quick rundown of Electric Sheep plot is basically bounty hunter out to hunt an android who can impressively blend among actual humans. They become a problem cuz they start killing humans, their bosses basically since andys supposed to work under them and bounty hunters are hired to “retire them.” Our main dude here, Rick D, bounty hunter, uses the Voight-kampff Empathy test to distinguish between humans and androids. The test helps determine the empathy points of someone which makes humans....humans. 

Now getting down on that, we proceed in Dominators vs Voigt-kampff test. Basically, Dominators help distinguish the latent criminals the similar way how the test do to andys. Shogo had numerously criticized how we all depend too much on technology that free will is not really there, so our worth to live, our everydy lives, is kinda dependent on techs too. The test hold a similar too; it can shape someone's worth so if you're an andy then you die and be made as servants if some rare case you get to live. Comparing the latent criminals and andys, despite how their og source laud on technologies, both actually share a middle ground to each other. They experience isolation from society. The latent criminals being dissolved as the lowest while Androids only made to slaves. There’s discrimination in their system like being less humans, like being mere hunting dogs, but at the same time tho, it’s understanble because they’re literally out there or have the potential to kill others. Then again at the same time, there’s still imperfection in the system that people heavily follow. How about with people with asymptomatic crime coefficient? How would Sibyl judge them? How about with humans who are sociopaths? Can they even pass the empathy test? Will you deem them as androids them? Are they humans to begin with? Is their even justice of judging through a mere piece of high technology? Both media brought up some interesting questions. 

More parallels are brought up between the media with Kogami and Rick.  Working as a bounty hunter, he realized that if continued to “retire” androids does that mean he isn’t no different to androids killing off people? The thing is he started pitying the androids since afterall he IS human. It’s similar to how Kogami went from inspector to enforcer. As quoted to the show “to understand them, you should know how to think like them.” So when Kogami went to the obsessive hunt for Makishima and is again emphasized as the only one who can understand Shogo, Ko’s crime coefficient heightened. Electric Sheep and Psycho Pass offered quite similar ideas to think about but also delivered in different ways. It’s no wonder Makihima took interest in it with the themes of isolation and the imperfect system which definitely were things that are part of his character.

For some extra thoughts. Personally, the book is a great read that’s been overshadowed by Blade Runner, the movie loosely based on the book. I’m not gonna lie that I was annoyed seeing how electric sheep books sometimes just put “Blade Runner” as its title. Like c’mon! Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? is already cool enough! But anyways thank you Makishima for this enjoyable summer read.

#psycho pass #makishima shogo #do androids dream of electric sheep #philip k dick #kogami shinya #psycho pass meta #shinya kougami #kougami shinya #shogo makishima #meta attempt #mine

[slowpoke272]

"kafka on the shore" by haruki murakami

finished: august 29, 2023

aka what the heck did i just read???? but for 19 hours.

seriously, what the read did i just read. since reading murakami's "men without women" short story collection, i read some criticisms of murakami and also knew that this book was polarizing; it seems people either love it or hate it. after moderately enjoying the short story collection at first, i had to look back after realizing murakami is pretty.... yucky about women. sorry, but if you're a murakami fan you've no doubt heard this before. if anyone wanted to like this book, it was me.

there were some redeeming qualities, we start out with this 15 year old BOY (not a young man, a BOY) running away from home and immediately i'm on board with him. we're taking the train the heck out of tokyo, we're seeing different landscapes, it's exciting. i'm just assuming the entire time that the reason kafka runs away has to be something substantial, like abuse or something. one of my biggest peeves about this story is how we never actually hear about his father or their home life, what was kafka's life like before this? was kafka's father at all deserving of his fate? all we heard (ad nauseam) was how kafka was strong, diligent, and disciplined more than the rest of his classmates. so sure, i'm with him when he leaves home, i can even take the stretch of a 15 year old boy being this disciplined... but as things started to pan out, it just became less and less believable that this was all happening to a 15 year old. i think what makes so many of us uncomfortable with the sexual parts, other than the obvious r*pe and oedipus complex, is that we wouldn't want to be imagining these things and murakami slides them in distastefully. it took a while to get to the first time, but after that it was like we should always be on alert that any given moment in the story we would be hearing about updates on kafka's genitals. i don't need that. there just really is no point. it's disgusting to think of a YOUNG CHILD this way.

after reading some other threads about what people liked or didn't like about the novel, i generally agree with the basic "did not like" arguments which point out the minimal actual resolution of most characters, everything that is inferred but never confirmed, the completely unnecessary uncalled for animal torture, ugh it was exhausting. i like magical realism, surrealism, and i'm generally fine with things being left open ended, but the whole point of the story was about this prophecy and it just really all becomes about a 15 year old child becoming obsessed with a librarian. i can't think of a real life or fictional setting in which this would be made okay.

murakami does have a way with writing, but i just wish what he was writing wasn't so raunchy and deliberately obscene. i can handle gore and violence when its met with appropriate response or context, but this just seemed gratuitous. the further the story unfolded, the closer i was to not finishing it at all, but i really was so curious to see how everything panned out and it didn't seem worth any of the cringe. i disliked it so much that i'm having second thoughts about reading any other murakami in the future.

i'm just so relieved to be done with this book so my soul can take a shower and i can move on to something else. this is down there with "pride and prejudice" for me, but with "pride and prejudice" it never held my attention to care about what's happening, "kafka on the shore" had my full attention and i completely understood what was happening at all times, it was just terrible with little recourse. what started off as a romanticizing the countryside, libraries, books, and stories quickly became some man's wet dream. no thanks.

i read on reddit that supposedly this story is loosely based on japanese folklore tied with oedipus complex, i wish that was somehow conveyed before i wasted all this time reading something i really did not enjoy.

rating: 2/10 felt like an obligation and i don't get it, just not for me

#haruki murakami #kafka on the shore

[cdmagic1408]

"I speak for the underrated" - CDmagic1408

I am Caroline, and I speak for the underrated. I speak for the underrated for the underrated needs all the love it can get! 💖

"I speak for the underrated"—and by extension, the “under-appreciated” and the “underrepresented”—is a phrase I've always believed in my whole life 

growing up I was never in the popular crowd, nor was I always into the popular thing...instead I was more interested in things my peers looked down upon…like animation, cartoons, or younger kids shows, etc.

but because of that, I was always shy to share my interests with people, and shy around people in general. the last thing I ever wanted was to be made fun of or ostracized for liking something they thought was weird or different...but luckily I was also never one to cave into peer pressure. i never thought what i loved was weird or different in my own world so I never sacrificed what I truly loved for what i was never really into 😌

so I loved what I loved in secret. i did that for the longest time up until I graduated high school

by the time I entered my dream college, I realized I was finally in a place where I felt more free to express who i was without being outed for it 🥳

then Onward came out, and then the pandemic hit. it was then that I had an epiphany💡 I was tired of hiding. I didn’t want to keep my mouth shut or have a brain chock-full of thoughts to myself any longer. I wanted to speak out for what I believed in. and being a creative person, I best do that through writing and art ✍️

so everyday when I open my goal to speak up for media (like Onward) that I firmly believe deserves more appreciation and attention, I usually tell myself with a smile as I put together a post, write down an idea, draw, or simply think about how much I love Onward—“I speak for the underrated” 

I loosely based this phrase off of “I speak for the trees" from The Lorax because the trees were important to him. and in my case Onward and the underrated are important to me

now if you all know or remember the story of The Lorax, it was about respecting the environment because without it, the world can be an unsafe and depressing place. the same goes for Onward. without it there’s less representation for just three families like the Lightfoot family, there’s less representation of a creative diversity, and there’s one less representation of a healthy and strong sibling bond...

without all those things, someone like me—who loves fantasy, who also lives in a just three family with a mom and an older sister, who knows what it's like to have social anxiety—doesn’t feel seen 👈

I’m reminded of another favorite quote from The Lorax that I also believe rings true to small fandoms like Onward: "unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. it's not."

I know my love for GE&H and this make it seem like I’m a major Seuss fan...you’re not wrong! I loved his stories growing up too! but this quote in particular has stuck with me for a long time. I remember I would find enjoyment in reading it over and over because it felt so meaningful and special to me for some reason. but outside the story, I never really had any reason, no cause of my own to back it up in my own life. but since joining the Onward fandom, I feel like I have found my purpose for it! 📖

as someone who was lost in the crowd and never really seen at school herself, I can literally feel the underrated-ness of things like Onward. I can see the beauty and details of things the majority of people would rather not pay attention to because what the majority of people are interested in have enough love to back it up with no signs of ever fading away. but the things they don’t pay attention to that I do ✨shine✨ like a geode. it may look rocky and rough on the outside, but on the inside it’s a shining crystal. you just have to look deep inside it to find the greatness it contains 💎

to this day, I still love animation, I still love the PBS shows I watched every morning before I went to school, and I love Onward. no one will ever take that away from me 😎

I will continue my endeavor to make sure that things like Onward are loved, represented, and appreciated no matter what it takes because I believe in it 💗

so give the underrated, the underappreciated, and the underrepresented a chance! who knows? something that might not seem significant in the eyes of the majority might just become your new favorite thing 😉

...and that concludes this TED Talk 👏

#quotes #true story #cd's rambles #onward #pixar onward #onward pixar #disney onward #onward disney #pixar #disney pixar #pixar movies #underrated film #underrepresented #unless #the lorax #dr seuss #cdmagic1408

[freshmangojuice]

8 SHOWS TO GET TO KNOW ME

Tagged by the effervescent @mystrothedefender. Thank you 🥰

Every time I do a list like this or share my Spotify wrapped or whatever, people love to tell me how insane I am.

This is the series I have watched the most times. We got the DVD box set when I was about 10, and I had all 7 seasons on a loop for about 6 years straight. It’s why I am the way I am.

A spin-off of a spin-off of a sci-fi movie from 1994. I cannot express to you how much I love Stargate Atlantis. The only time I’ve ever paid money for a photo-op at a convention was for a group photo with Richard Dean Anderson, David Nykl, and Christopher Judge.

Current obsession, very recent. Like I only started binging it less than 2 months ago recent. But it has touched me so deeply, I know this is a love that will last. You’re seeing this on my Red Dwarf blog so I don’t even need to tell you.

Completely faultless. Pobably the best writing in anything ever. I’m waiting to watch it again so I can experience it with a bit of freshness. Cannot recommend enough as long as you don't mind the violence, gore, rampant vulgarity, substance abuse, and abuse of women, children, and minorities. I promise it's really good and I'm not a sicko. It also had a movie that rocked my socks.

This show is very loosely based on Alexander Dumas’ The Three Musketeers, which is a story that has been adapted on screen many many times. This one, however, is my favourite. I have never been so inspired by a show. Besides everything I made in my Red Dead days, the most I've ever contributed creatively to a fandom was Musketeers. Which is interesting because as an historian I shouldn't like this show at all. But what can I say? The characters and the stories hold everything up so well it's easy for me to ignore all the historical inaccuracies.

I still think about Rose Tyler. And Martha. And Donna. And Wilf. Not such a fan since the Moffat days which is a real shame. But Doctor Who was so important to me growing up I can’t not include it here.

One of the best comedies ever made ever. I’ve loved the six idiots since childhood when I got really into horrible histories (which led me to a degree in history that's been interrupted). I’ve also loved everything else they’ve made (I wish I had more room to include Yonderland) but Ghosts is really special.

I wish I could include more historical reality shows here too because the genre is quite important to me. As a student, I invested a lot into researching the early 2000s fad, and I may still go back to that project and eventually work on producing a better version of historical reality television. That's my dream. Frontier House is a favourite though and a really good introduction to the concept.

Tagging @gothwizardmagic @goalpost-head & @fandomsinabluebox1998

#8 is just not enough #I want to rant about call the midwife and misfits and firefly and the alienist and dirk gently and MST3K and can eurovision count???? #maybe someone can tag me again and I'll do another 8 #fmj #fmj: text

[pickalilywrites]

based loosely off “the red sleeve cuff”

In My Next Life

EreMika. Canonverse.

1506 words.

Read on Ao3!

Eren had always thought that death would come for him swiftly, but maybe that was asking too much. He’s never done anything to deserve anything but a cruel death. In his lifetime, he had done nothing but subject people to fates filled with suffering. He had believed that the ends would justify the means, but he knows now that nothing can ever justify the sins he’s committed. When Mikasa’s blade first kisses his neck, Eren thinks searing pain would be replaced with nothingness. Heaven is impossible for him, and no punishment in hell could absolve him of the wrong he’s done. Once his head falls from his shoulders, he should fade from this earth, no longer human because he never was. He should disappear, turn into nothing, vanish completely. To become nothing at all, to never be mourned or remembered or missed, that would be a fitting punishment for someone who thought he could play god. Instead, he opens his eyes to a field of flowers in full bloom. It’s the same field he had often visited in his childhood. It’s the same field he only ever sees in dreams now. It’s a field that he thought he would never see again. 

In the distance, there is a hill with a twisted tree. Eren used to rest beneath its shade after a day of collecting firewood. He would lay with his arms behind his head as he looked up at the sky, dreaming of dreams he had long forgotten. Now a figure stands beneath the tree, their back turned towards him but Eren knows who it is just from their silhouette. 

“Mikasa,” Eren begins to say, but his voice gets caught in his throat. He wants to call out her name, wants to catch her attention, wants her to turn to him so that he can see her face just one last time, but his voice fails him.

He trudges up the hill, and the trek seems so much more difficult than it was when he was a child. Back then, he had carried stacks of wood on his back and he would complain about the ache in his arms and legs the next day. Now, he feels the burn in his calves already as he makes it up the hill. Somehow, he feels weighted down even more heavily though he carries nothing but the clothes on his back. Each step makes his feet ache, and he’s breathless by the time he reaches the top. It’s all worth it, though, when he sees Mikasa turn to him and he can finally see her face. 

Her smile should be the first thing to catch his eye, but it never is. Instead, his gaze strays upward and to the side, resting on the silver scar across her cheekbone. It’s a small scar now, faded after all the years they had spent together. The mark is hardly bigger than the length of his smallest finger, but Eren sees it clearly as the day the scar had first bled. It’s only one of many that he had dealt her over the years. The tiny sliver of silver across Mikasa’s cheek is a cruel reminder of all the pain he has caused her in this lifetime. Hurting her is all he’s ever done in this life. 

When Eren’s gaze finally meets Mikasa’s lips, he sees that she’s smiling. It’s been so long since he had last seen her smile. He always thought that he would have more chances to see it while he was alive. After everything was finished, she would see why Eren had done the things he did, and she would forgive him. She would smile … but it seemed that everything Eren did made it less and less likely that he would ever see Mikasa smile again. He never thought he’d be fortunate enough to see it one last time, even if it’s just a fantasy. 

Without a word, Eren reaches out and takes her hand in his. Mikasa’s fingers slip between his so easily. It seems to surprise her, but maybe she’s just surprised that he’s holding her hand at all. It’s one of his many regrets in life, not holding her hand more back when he was alive. It’s strange how all of his regrets seem to involve Mikasa. If he could turn back time, he would hold Mikasa’s hand as much as he could. He would have never let go. 

“The flowers are beautiful,” Eren comments. It’s something he never would have said when he was younger. He had always been too busy looking up at the clouds to pay attention to anything in front of him. He squeezes Mikasa’s hand gently. “I’m glad that we’re able to see them together.” 

A hum comes from Mikasa’s lips. It’s not a hum of agreement, more like an acknowledgment for what Eren had said. She doesn’t squeeze his hand back either, just lets him cling onto her hopelessly, desperately, while his heart aches. 

“I love you,” Eren tells Mikasa, and he means it a thousand times over. It’s something he’s told her before, but only ever in his dreams. He probably should have said it out loud at least once in his life. 

Mikasa doesn’t say “I love you” back. Eren never expects her to. For all the love she had given him, she had never received anything but pain in return. It more than proves that Eren doesn’t deserve anything from her, much less love. 

His heart thuds painfully in his chest when he sees Mikasa turn her face from him. She’s looking out into the field now, admiring the forget-me-nots in full bloom. The field is an endless garden of deep and vibrant blue. With even the faintest zephyr, the flowers ripple like waves in the sea. It’s more beautiful than any ocean. Its only flaw is the streak of dark green where Eren had carelessly trampled the flowers while trekking up the hill. 

Without turning, Mikasa says, “I hope I get to see the flowers bloom again next spring.” 

Eren knows that this is the last chance he’ll have to see the flowers bloom. Mikasa will have many more chances in her lifetime, but they’ll never see them together again. He knows it’s hopeless to wish for another spring and yet he finds himself saying, “I hope we get to see the flowers bloom together one more time.” 

Mikasa turns to him with the saddest smile on her face. As she opens her mouth to speak, her fingers slip through his and her hand falls to her side. “In my next life … I hope we never meet.” 

Her words are not cruel, but they still hurt. Eren feels tears prick at his eyes as Mikasa’s words cut deep into his skin and pierce his heart. He knows the words are nothing compared to all the pain he’s caused her, and yet he can’t stop his tears from falling. He understands, though, why Mikasa had spoken them out loud. He had hurt her and caused her more pain and suffering than any person should ever have to endure in a single lifetime. He wants to believe that it had just been the universe that had been so cruel as to give them such a tragic fate, but Eren knows that he had been cruel, too. Even if the world was cold-hearted, Mikasa had never been. Eren had just accepted the world’s cruelty and became cruel himself. Even when Mikasa had begged him to come back to her, he never listened. If they met again, there’s no guarantee that their fate would be any kinder than it was in this life. Maybe it would be different, or maybe he would end up hurting her again. No, Mikasa is right. It would be best if they never met in any other life. 

The only right thing for Eren to do is to get on his knees and apologize. He should beg for Mikasa’s forgiveness, but he can’t even bring himself to do even that. He’s always been pathetic and selfish that way. He knows in the end that his apologies are futile. He could apologize until he’s nothing but ash and dust, and it still wouldn’t be enough to absolve him of all the sins he’s committed. 

Mikasa wipes his tears with the sleeve of her faded cardigan. She’s as kind and patient as she had always been with him, but Eren only has the sense to appreciate it now when it’s too late. Gently, she takes his face in her hands. The smile on her lips is so bittersweet. 

Eren’s eyes close as she leans in to press her lips against his, and it tastes bittersweet. He won’t delude himself into thinking it’s a sign of forgiveness nor an act of love. He knows that this is goodbye even if he can’t bring himself to say the word out loud. 

A single tear rolls down his cheek as Mikasa whispers her final farewell against Eren’s lips. 

Sayonara. 

#eremika #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #snk #canonverse

[agentnorthdakota]

2022

In spite of harsh things going on in the world at large, 2022 has honestly been an incredible year for me, and I’m so thankful for that. See below for long-winded, sappy reminiscing.

In January I launched a new D&D campaign with a group of awesome people I’d met through other groups. Most of them didn’t know each other beforehand, so I wasn’t sure how well the group would jive, but it turned out to be very well!! (One player had inconsistent attendance and I had to have a conversation with them, and we agreed it wasn’t a good fit at the time. But altogether not bad at all!) We have a bunch of fun playing together and chatting, and I’m really grateful to know such awesome people <3 The campaign is still going strong, and I’m looking forward to what next year will bring!!

On the topic of D&D, I’ve still been playing Zarus in that campaign! And once again I’m so grateful to play with and spend time with such awesome people <3 It truly brings so much happiness into my life, and no matter how long the campaign itself lasts, I’ll always treasure these characters and these memories uwu <3

My long-running campaign, started back in May 2019 and going on 4 years now, is reaching the endgame. It’s very much a new challenge to set up an endgame, to try and tie off loose ends and make the ending epic and have everything payoff after all this time. Despite the challenge, it’s exciting! It’s been Level 3 through to Level 16 at this point. I’ve lost players, gained players, and lost some again due to scheduling. But if everything goes according to plan, there should be less than five sessions left! And I’m so excited at the prospect of completing a long-running campaign, because I know it’s a rare accomplishment. Here we come, endgame.

It’s also been an amazing yeah for gender euphoria! I had my hysterectomy and double oophorectomy back on March 10th, and it was so exciting and amazing to finally have that shit out after 16 years (post-puberty) of not wanting any of it. I also had my top surgery consult in the spring, and was expecting to have to wait until next year for the actual surgery. But then they called me in the fall, and scheduled it for October 11th!! The recovery that night was definitely more rough than my previous surgery, and I was so done with the drains a few days into recovery lol, but still!! It’s been amazing and so exciting and euphoric!! It’s so nice to be able to walk around my own house shirtless if I want, and I’ve become so much more confident in my body and myself immediately following top surgery.

Speaking of my own house!! I moved out this year!!! The lead up to it was a ton of stress and familial tension and drama, but I’m so glad to have been able to leave that behind me. I’ve been living on my own (with my doggo Rowan) since June 1st, and it’s honestly been a dream come true. Yes, I’m the only one to do cleaning and groceries and whatnot now, so I’m solely responsible, but it’s a small price to pay. I’m grateful to have gotten my hands on such a lovely place (the main floor of a duplex, aka a quarter of a house) and at a steal of a price honestly. Definitely hoping to renew my lease next year, but after talking with my downstairs neighbour and her lease, I’m expecting my rent to go up a couple hundred bucks. But I’ve also gotten a dollar (well, 80 cents) raise since then based on my work’s union contract, and will next year as well, so that helps a little. Most importantly, my mental health has dramatically improved since I moved out. Not sharing a house with a stressful and often toxic family dynamic that ate away and my self confidence and energy, has made an immeasurable difference. They’re not bad family (most of the time), but it’s been so much healthier for us all (especially me) to Not be living together. Living on my own and having my own space after 28 years of life really has been a dream come true.

After last year and reconsidering my sexuality and romantic orientation, and having a messy falling out with a dear friend, I’ve been looking for healthier friendships and relationships. And at the end of June, I started dating a wonderful person who’s very affectionate and sweet and patient. I ended up breaking things off in… early November, I think it was. But I’ll always appreciate and be grateful for our time together, and how sweet and lovely she is, and how she helped me grow as a person and expand my comfort zones and build more confidence.

I also got to travel on my own!! For work, which meant I was working through much of it, but it also meant most everything was paid for! I had the opportunity to travel to Vancouver for two weeks in June, and it was an amazing experience honestly. A very nice hotel and rental SUV I’d have struggled to afford on my own, plus amazing food because it too was covered by work. Vancouver is a beautiful city, and it’s been years since I’ve been along the ocean (and in! But I went swimming!) Stanley Park is beautiful, and I love nature so much.

I also travelled to Regina for one week at the end of September. It wasn’t nearly as nice as Vancouver, but I also didn’t expect it to be lol. I’d never been to Saskatchewan before, so it was still a really neat experience!! Even if I don’t care to do it again haha.

It’s honestly been an incredible year, and I’m so beyond grateful. There’s certainly been times of struggles, sadness and grief as well, but I’d rather focus on the good in this moment as I prepare to head into a new year.

Oh! Also shoutout to my counselling/therapist, who’s been an amazing support through it all. I’ve been seeing her since last fall, I think? And the fact that I still find our sessions helpful and constructive, and leave me feeling more capable of handling what life throws at me, is something I’m very thankful for. And a moment of recognition and gratefulness for the fact my work benefits cover most of the fee, so I can afford to keep seeing her.

A sincere, heartfelt thank you to all my amazing friends, without whom this year wouldn’t have been the same, not by a long shot. I love you/them all so much, and am so grateful to have to y'all in my life <333

Farewell to an amazing year, I’ll carry these memories with me forever more. Love y’all <3

#random babblings #personal

[timandlucy]

hi suz! gosh, i've gone and done it again, it's been a while since i last messaged i'm sorry! the last week or so has just gone by in a blur.

what have you been up to since i last checked in? are you feeling any better? tell me all the things!

thank you SO MUCH for sharing your linstead fic, i can't wait to read it soon!

honestly dreaming about surprise songs is one of the most fun things about going to the eras tour lol my show isn't until the end of 2024 and i'm ready thinking up surprise songs that i'd want to hear. since she'll be resetting surprise songs and i'm assuming we'll have rep tv by the time your shows are, i am keeping my fingers crossed that she sings a rep track for you! the folklore and evermore sets are probably my favorite during the tour because they're so incredibly stunning, especially visually. the projections during august, the moss piano for champagne problems, the choreo of willow...everything about those sets are perfect and were probably my favorites of the eras tour. the rep set also really goes off so i know you'll have a great time then. the whole concert is amazing! that would be a super cute look for tour, the lover heart around the eye is *chef's kiss*

please let me know if you pick up any of the books i mentioned! i'd love to hear your thoughts! are you reading anything currently?

i'm definitely into the holiday spirit! it's been busy around here lately, but i've been watching 1-2, sometimes 3, christmas movies a night this week which has been really fun. i rewatched scott wolf and kristin chenoweth's hallmark movie the other day and it really is one of my favorites. it always makes me cry! i'll probably watch it again before the end of the year lol

sending love, good vibes and lots of holiday cheer! - secret sleuth 🧡 🔎

Omg don't even worry! I totally get it. I was so insanely busy with work and everything, it's a miracle I even get to open tumblr anymore these days.

What have I been up to? Hm, I'm still coughing really bad like 3 weeks later, so I think I might have possibly had the C-word. Work has also been busy, since I work at a bookstore and holiday season... retail hell and so on. Working at a store doesn't really make me appreciate the holidays any more. People can be so horrible and I've barely been keeping it together.

I'm crossing my fingers for King of my Heart for Vienna concert because the friend that I'm going with (and that got me a ticket as a gift), that's her favorite song, so I really want that. I've given it a lot of thought obviously, but The Lakes would be amazing, since it's one of my faves, but also DBATC because it took me forever to not mess up the lyrics and I would proudly scream it, and I just love it so much. Ahh I am so happy you liked the folklore and evermore sets, that makes me even more excited. In a way, I'm super happy we got the movie, because that means I won't be worried about every detail, and I'll be able to be more present. I'm just so incredibly excited!! 137 DAYS!!!!

Of course I will! I'll try to get some for the holidays, maybe I'll have some time to read then. I need a break for real. So this is gonna sound funny, but there's this YA really old book series called Sadler's Wells/Ballet Slippers. And I kinda wanna do a Nace AU loosely based on the main love story in it, so I'm re-reading that hahaha. Also sometimes it just feels good to read something like that for the nostalgia, you know?

Omg, lucky you! I haven't watched any in the past week. It's been busy, and I'm just tired. I really do like that one so much! I did watch Holidate last week, I really think Emma Roberts should only do rom-coms, she is so good at them!

Tomorrow is the last hectic day at work, so I'll hopefully be a bit less busy from then on and finish setting up my tree (it's been lightless since I got sick, I know, a travesty).

Sending lots of love and christmas magic! ✨🎄☃️

#secretsleuthgiftexchange

[theveryworstthing]

So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class.  I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got  natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace.  I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.  

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway.  This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

#long post #the addams family #Character Design #au #design challenge #i am incapable of doing a design challenge like a normal person #oh god i forgot the cut lol

[lovelybarnes]

home- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: language, alcohol mentions and drinking, the use of my own headcanon that bucky gets very clingy when he finds someone he trusts and loves

about: (requested!) prompt 21: person a tugging on person b’s shirt

bucky has been a lot clingier than usual. you suppose it’s your fault, you have dragged him everywhere with you since you met him- although that was to help bring him out of his shell and get him to actually go outside. you’re not sure if your efforts have backfired, as he’ll be trudging behind you like a lovestruck puppy wherever you go, no matter if it’s around the compound or in the small boutiques you frequent. you convince yourself they didn’t, since his days aren’t spent locked in his room, which you consider a win.

a knock you identify as natasha’s interrupts your mutters about an entrance you hadn’t seen before, natasha’s voice cutting through the peaceful silence. “i swear i saw you in that exact same place like five hours ago,” she states, leaning against your door frame as you shrug, not looking up. “you should take a break, the plan you made yesterday is great.”

you’re going over mission plans in your room, trying to figure out the best way to infiltrate the very last hydra base and succeed in cutting off the last of the organization’s heads. bucky is sleeping, his head on your lap. the hand that isn’t skimming the lines on the blueprint is combing through bucky’s hair, calming him down and chasing away his nightmares. once in a while, you coo inattentively when he begins to stir, not wanting him to wake up.

you had been away for two days, during which he got a grand total of three hours of sleep, the rest of his attempts driven away by nightmares. you calm him down, he says, so he’s slept in your room with you ever since you got back. it’s a strange sight seeing the former winter soldier, over two hundred pounds and six feet tall, resting bitch face pressed on the skin of your legs.

“there are always possible ways to fail, i need it to be foolproof,” you respond distractedly. natasha rolls her eyes and raises her hand, holding a pair of black heels between her fingers. “we’re all going out in half an hour,” she instructs, and you furrow your brows, staring at the intimidatingly tall shoes, “what? we are?” natasha hums, raising an eyebrow at bucky, “i haven’t been able to spend any time with you since you got back, besides, you need to have fun for a few hours.”

“i am having fun,” you lie. and natasha, unsurprisingly, sees right through it, shaking the heels and letting you know you have thirty minutes. you sigh, pushing the plans away and stretching, already planning to wear something casual, even though wanda will probably have a fit about it and point out the new dresses you have stored in your closet.

“you do deserve a break,” bucky points out from your thighs, and you look down at him, not realizing he was awake. shrugging, you agree, “i guess you’re right.”

bucky hums in reply, sitting up and looking over the blueprints you just set down. “i also guess i have to get ready, then,” you say, pressing a kiss to bucky’s cheek before going to your closet and taking out what you want.

bucky isn’t in your room when you walk out of the bathroom, light makeup applied (an illusion because you have no idea how to do it), jeans and a loose shirt that you somehow make refined, and heels that you bought months ago with no real occasion in mind. you hope the heels pull the outfit together and get you the wanda seal of approval, avoiding getting sent back to your room and having the woman make a mess of your closet to find something else.

you check yourself out in the mirror one final time, squinting at yourself. “you look amazing, doll,” bucky compliments, coming in through your door to stare at you and kiss your shoulder. you look back at him, appreciating how he looks, stunning as always. “you don’t look so bad yourself,” you reply cheesily, admiring the smile that adorns his face when the words leave your mouth.

it appears you and bucky are the last to be ready, seeing how everyone other than sam, steve, and nat were already on their way to wherever it was you were going. “whoo,” sam whistles, and you twirl when nat claps and asks you to. “you look hot,” she comments, and you do a proud little bow, “i can clean up when i want to.”

“and this will be worth it. we are staying out late like we used to,” natasha declares. you grin, “hopefully i don’t fall asleep. missions are tiring. especially when you finish them that quick.”

“ah yes, we are celebrating the new record y/n set!” steve reminds, and you tilt your head in smug satisfaction. “oh yes, i did beat nat, didn’t i?”

shooting the russian redhead a faux complacent look as she smiles, “enjoy it while it lasts,” she replies simply, and you nod, “i absolutely will. i know there’ll be a new one by next week.”

you manage to drink half of your weight in liquor by the second hour you’re at the new bar, chatting with wanda over her and vision’s relationship while sam flirts with someone next to you. bucky is surprisingly invested in the conversation, pointing out how happy vision has been- as much as he’s noticed, he’s still getting used to vision being a synthezoid- which makes wanda blush and smile wider. you can tell his social battery is running out, though, and you can’t blame him, exhausting your own with how many times you’ve rejected guys and held useless conversations with both the avengers and random people you bump into.

natasha has managed to get you into the dance floor, and you manage to have fun, even through the tiredness that hasn’t stopped coursing throughout your veins and smell of sweat and sex. you’ve sweated out the alcohol in your system, sitting next to your boyfriend while you’re telling steve what you saw the other day. sam is listening along, head tilting back in laughter when you inform him that tony wears captain america underwear. how you found that out, you prefer not repeating.

bucky doesn’t add on to conversations anymore, instead listening silently and driving away any men that dare to bother you with a threatening glare. it isn’t needed, but appreciated regardless.

which each hour that passes, you can see less of the avengers and more of the sun’s yellow, your body planted in your seat, listening to the others’ conversations. you’ve bitten back enough yawns to know your night is ending, your shorter answers only reassuring you.

you’re nodding along to one of tony’s stories when you feel a tug on your shirt, not needing to turn to figure out who it is, but you do anyways.

“can we go home?” bucky asks, weariness clear in the bags under his eyes as you nod, tangling your fingers with his vibranium ones. you bid everyone goodbye, bucky lingering behind you, his own farewells a silent nod of his head if any.

you nearly fall asleep next to him in the car, and he swears it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

-

he’s waiting for you on your bed as you get ready for bed, walking out and ruffling his hair when you see how he’s sprawled out. “come to bed, y/n,” he pleads when you begin to walk away again, his fingers pulling at your-his, really- shirt. “i’m almost done,” you promise, fulfilling it when you come back not a minute later.

he wraps you in his arms and is out like a light, dreams of you replacing the nightmares he’s had, and he vows he’ll never let you go.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #avengers #avengers x reader #avenger!reader #avengers fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #winter soldier #bucky barnes x you fluff #cute dog #fluff #bucky barnes x y/n fluff #bucky barnes fluff fanfic #bucky barnes fluff fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic fluff #bucky barnes fanfic cute #bucky barnes x reader cute #bucky barnes fanfiction fluff #fluffy bucky barnes #fluffy bucky barnes fanfiction

[thefanbasewhore]

“Mine.”

Summary: Din says goodbye to reader and Grogu but once they are reunited Din has mixed feels about the situation, jealous of Luke.

Warning/content: Angst, Jealous!Din, fighting between Din and Luke and reader and Din, Jedi!Reader. Din accuses reader of cheating. Nothing too spicey unless you guys would like a second part ? But would recommend 18+, Season 2 spoilers 

Paring: Din Djarin/Female Reader

Master list. || Part 2. 

There's a shift on tension in the room, it didn't go unnoticed much like the feeling of your own heart breaking. It's breaking for Grogu, for Din, your Mandolorian, who stands tall, strong despite the crushing feeling inside his chest. He's helmetless in a room full of people for the first time ever willingly, he does it for the boy, the child he loves.

It's the first time you see his face, his hair is messy but it's cute, brown in color with small ringlets that curl against the base of his neck, his eyes are expresso brown, smooth curve of his nose is small but prominent, lips pink and form the perfect pout, small hairs from his mustache curling across his top lip. He is so incredibly handsome, but your sorrow won't let you see that, there is no time to think about. The child presses a soft touch against his square jaw, in his own way of saying, "I see you."

This makes tears even well up in your own eyes as he looks over Din's shoulder, reaching out for you. The last thing you expect when Din head turns over his shoulder to look at you are the matching tears. It's hard to stop, squeezing his eyes shut as he bites his bottom lip, chewing at it nervously. 

The two strides it takes to finally reach them is like the longest walk of your life, your head rests against the Mandalorian's chest piece as you take the small guy into your arms, squeezing him close. The sob that falls from your lips doesn't go unnoticed as Din presses his large, gloved hand to your back, rubbing it in comfort. "Be good, little one." It's whispered as you hold him cheek to cheek. "You're going to do so well."

"Don't be afraid." Din's fingers find the child, placing him on the ground, knowing well you wouldn't be able to.

Grogu's eyes met yours with confusion as the Jedi picks him up. There's an unknown feeling within you, almost like you can feel his sadness but also excitement of learning once again. It makes you worried as his eyes peer at you, head tilting to the side. He's trying to tell you something, but you just can't hear it.

It isn't strong, actually you like to think your connection to the force as a small, annoying dangling thread stuck to the bottom of someone's boot that is always there, no matter how much they pull or prod it just falls through fingers but then again you never had a chance to learn from anyone.

All eyes are on you, breaking from your trance like thought as to look up to meet Din's eyes then Luke's, realizing they were directed towards you. "Did you say something?"

"Are you coming too?" Luke's words make you confused, eyebrows narrowing with a frown. The thought alone is enough to feel a ball in your throat, despite the words you’ve spoken, his intensions were clear from the start. 

 “You need training too." Din's hand stiffens against your lower back, chest momentarily at a pause as he realizes what is happening. He knew about this, even though you were clueless of what the force is, you knew it was in you, had told him and Ashoka questioned it about it only days ago. Never had he thought he'd loose both of the people that mean the most to him on the same day, it was almost..unbearable. A pregnant silence falling between everyone, Din can’t speak, he pauses, words trembling in his throat as he looks to you with pouty eyes.

Eyes meet Din's, shaking your head pressing yourself deeper into his chest. A familiar place that was warm, safe, How could you ever leave him? "No, I'm staying here."

"Go." Din urges, the hand applying just enough pressure toward the Jedi, trying to explain his words, it was okay. His flushes his own forehead against yours as he tilts your face towards his own, kissing the hair line softly. "Don't let me stop you, you need training."

"But --."

"I'll see you again, I swear by it." He promises, hands cup your cheeks, bringing your lips to his own. Fresh, new tears slip past both of sets of eyes. Goodbyes were never easy but necessary, destiny has written it long ago and Din Djarin of all people knows that. The kiss is soft, but you can't seem to pull yourself away pressing a few more in their wake. The movement of his arms wrapping around your waist lifts your feet from the ground as he hugs you close. Lips tickle your ear as he whispers, "I'll see you soon sweet girl, don't forget how strong you are."

"I love you." It's the first time the words are said, while his heart squeezes in joy, but mouth dries at the words he's always wanted to hear, he wishes you never said them, it makes good bye so much harder.

"I love you." He answers back truthfully, using the back of his hand to wipe the sizzling trail of tears from his cheek as you step away. Grogu reaches out almost instantly for his mother, the familiarity is more comforting then the stranger’s arms. You follow the Jedi when reaching the loft and turn around waving at your Mandalorian one more time. Din can't find himself to return it, shoulders leaning forward compensating for the pain he feels in his heart. It's heavy, putting all of his trust into one man but at least you and Grogu had each other.

-

You are barely able to suppress the shriek that is mumbles against your lips as the base of Luke's foot comes in contact with your chest, pushing you from the advantage you finally gained. While you try to reach for him he’s too fast, too skilled as he swiftly moves from the counter attack.

"Ugh!" The sound ripples from your raw throat as the pair circle each other, waiting for the next move, lightsabers in the air, it's a waiting game. "Stop doing that it's not fair!"

"Why isn't it fair? You left it open. Do better."

You huff, "I have boobs! Well who knows anymore? After that."

The last few months have not only been the most terrifying of your life but also the most exciting, borderline exhilarating. At first it wasn’t noticeable, arms would ache for holding the saber in the air for a few minutes but with every passing day it became lighter and lighter until you moved with uttermost swiftness, the saber a feather in your hands. Never had you thought you would love to fight, being able to finally control the owner within. Luke had become family, taking you in and helping you. It has been quite difficult, Luke was a perfectionist at best, he was not happy unless everything was done right, which once made you sore and cry, but looking back at it now, you have mastered so much. The amount of long hours of sitting at the table trying to pass a stupid apple back and forth, learning to be silent, trying to sneak up on an opponent but now it’s easy, all thanks to Luke but still to this day you can't even look at an apple, let alone eat it.

Even though he is picky, you understand. He has made you strong, happy to learn about the very thing you understand nothing about. It’s safe to say you were ignorant, taking advantage of the gift given to you.  

Luke rolls his eyes, the green saber retreating back into the canister as he tucks it back into his belt. "Training is done for now."

Your head tilts in understanding, tucking away the bright light until is clicks into the holder attached to your belt. There's a lingering silence, figuring it’s a  silent dismissal turning to return home but Luke's voice stops you. "Padawan?"

"Yes Master?"

"I sent out word to your Mandolorian." The smile drops from your face almost instantly, serious eyes look over his own for the lie, for the joke as if he would break into laughter but he didn't. He's still as he gives a shy smile, you tense instantly, heart stuttering inside your chest, it must be a joke. Your about to curse, tell him it's not funny but he beats you to it. "I sent out days ago, he is due any day now."

"You're serious? It's not funny --."

"You have done well, you exceeded my expectations. You deserve to have some time off. You and Grogu, it's been months." You squeal excitedly, the smile crinkles eyes, almost hurts because it's been so long since you felt genuine happiness.

"Now come, the little one is waiting."

-

Dinner has to be your favorite time of the day, only because after the relief your aching body gets, sore, black and blue but strong, you’re capable of more than you’ve ever known to be. Luke always reminds you, never lets you falter, never lets you have the chance to doubt yourself, he’s always there to remind you much you’ve accomplished but there is always more to learn. He's a good master, fair but authoritative when need be, he's shown you so much but had given you so much more: a purpose, a friend.

With dinner came relief but also meant you could see Grogu, he hasn't grown much physically but the force has made him powerful, such a small creature to have so much but it is so different with him. While the force only touched you, it seems to run through Grogu's veins, it's so natural to him. 

Luke is right next to you, sitting in the uncomfortable excuse of a chair but happy none the less as Grogu sits in the middle of the table in front of his plate with a coo, large black eyes peering up at his master, head tilting. "What's wrong little one?"

You don't need the force to feel what he's thinking, you communicated with this little guy way before all of this feeling though the force mumbo jumbo. The force was  never needed to feel him, understand the boy.  Reaching over to Luke's plate with a cheeky smile using your own fork to poke the potato. "He likes the hash."

Both of you are so occupied the hole of silence the hall falls into is unoticed, the heavy steps of boots that haunt your dreams. The Mandalorian seems so big in the hall, all the basker gives off the illusion of large broad shoulders, a thick trunk that matches the man underneath, he’s intimidating as eyes shift off him quickly to return back to their meal, no one would dare try a Mandalorian, even trained Jedi. Din eyes meet the back of your head, heart thumping in anticipation of seeing his love again. It's been seven months, seven agonizing, brutal months without his family. Any other man would go insane but this very moment is the reason he continued to fight, when he received the message from Luke he couldn’t believe it. Seven months with no communication, your voice haunted his dreams just wanting to hear it one more time.

But now, he feels his heart drop, his own body filling with dread, anxiety at the close proximity of you and the Jedi, faces inches away in conversation. The way small dimples pop through as you smile shyly at him, Luke's own laugh as he leans closer to Grogu.

The sight of him alone is enough to have Din choked up if it wasn't for the way Luke reached for your fork, feeding Grogu a few bites, whatever he didn't eat was taken into his own mouth. When his lips close around the fork Din's fist bunch at his sides, it was too intimate for teacher and student. That's his girl, his son he is feeding.

You do however notice how Luke's head turns in the direction behind you, but continue talking eyes narrowing to question why. He's not paying attention to your words only smiling, like he knows something you don’t. When there's no answer you decide to look yourself, at first you don't register that Din is only feet away, dead center of the hall. Head snaps back in a double take as anticipation makes your heart flutter, emotion fills your throat making it hard to speak, even move.

Feet register before your brain has the opportunity to, running towards him with a loud laugh of joy. He has to brace himself for the impact when you jump on him, a small 'ooof' leaving his lips as he catches the weight. Arms support you from under thighs, holding close as your legs tighten around his waist.

Your smile is wide, never ending the most as he holds the blushing skin of your cheek, the other hand on the underneath skin of your thighs holding you to the basker clad chest. Beautiful, absolutely breath taking. He's seen this in his dreams, reuniting with you but this is too real, the soft flesh expanding on his palm is too soft. The sight of you after so long is euphoric, its hard to breath with you so close, to concentrate on anything but the way your lips curl into a smile, eyes so lovingly with unshed tears. It's a relief to see you so alive and well, stronger under his own strength but as soft he remembers.

"I missed you Cyar'ika." It's breathlessly whispered into the vocoder, static chokes his words but it may be the tremble in his throat as a hand knots into hair to pull you closer.

"Oh." You mumble under your breath with as realize the stares that follow you, quickly you lower your feet to the ground but your hand never leaves his forearm, clenching the underneath, tunic crumpling in your hands. Now that he's here you never want to let go. "Come see Grogu."

Din can't even get a word out as he's pulled towards the table, he nods, acknowledging Luke despite the tension he manifests. The reunion warms your heart, it makes it harder not to crying as you feel Grogu's emotions run through you. He feels love.. he's excited extending his arms with grapy hands.

With no hesitation the child is once again reunited with the basker clad man.. his truthful father. It's a sigh of relief that falls from Din that makes you smile up at him. Din reaches over with his free hand, cupping your cheek. No words were said, not in the presence of a stranger but it's shown in the way his thumb moves across the smooth skin of your cheek.

-

The moment he entered the room darkness cascades over them, small, familiar hands press against the the basker that covers his head, a silent ask for permission. "Cyar'ika, it's --."

"I can't believe you're here, I missed you so much love." Din's eyes close so tightly at the words, he doesn't want to stop you. He wants to feel your skin pressed against his, he swears he's almost knocked off his feet when the helmet falls to the ground with a loud thump lips brusingly hard against his own.

"Sweet -." He tries to speak against but is met with the softness again, tongue seeking permission against his bottom lip.

"Missed you." Lips press against his jaw, following to his neck sucking softly on the smooth skin. A small, choked moan falls from his lips as you nip at the junction between his clavicle and throat.

The feeling of welted skin has you raising your head up in confusion, fingers taking place of your lips to feel the healing skin. It's not a scar or a wound but purposely put there, as you trace it with your fingers you begin to paint a small picture with the raised lines.

"It's a symbol of leadership along my people." He answers, hands reaching up to gently wrap around your wrist, bringing it to press against his cheek. His next words almost as unexpected as learning he has a new tattoo on his neck. "Would you like to see it?"

"But the creed.." you mumble, eyes roaming over the slightest curve of his face the darkness of allows as he pushes you to straddle his lap, his other hand running over the expanding skin of your thigh.

"It's nothing you haven't seen before my love." He's referring to the moment before you and the child left him, kissing him goodbye. "The creed is broken but I am a Mandalorian, nothing will change that."

"But, I ugh." The words are not of the man you knew almost a year ago, but show maturity, experience has formed him into a new person but nonetheless he still is yours.

It's just dawned on you now, while you were growing with power was so was Din. The lightsaber pressing against your outer thigh reminded you of it, while you have gained one, Din had ruled with one. Every new experience, lesson, moments spent crying Din has had similar, except his people depend on him for survival.

"Oh my God." You mumble under your breath, eyes widening in shock. His words, the tattoo meaning, the new signet pressed into his chest, the thicker tunic decorated with a gold pattern, you were so busy just concentrating the fact he was here, you never bothered to look at the changes, the clues. Two large horns soldered into his helmet you never noticed until now poke against your ankle. "You actually did it? I though you didn't want it."

"It's my responsibility to my people to get our home back. Once you left I had nothing but them, Bo-Katan has been helping me. We are so close Cyar'ika." Din presses his forehead against the skin of your shoulder, breathing deeply. "I can't wait to show you."

"So close to what?"

"Not hiding anymore, to regaining Mandalore." The words make your skin warm, a soft smile filled with admiration, proudness. "I'm building a home for us."

"You have changed Din."

"So have you Cyare. You look so well, feel so strong. You are where you’ve always belonged." He is right, there's something that changes in the air when you are nearby now; a power that follows you, makes everyone fear the presence but he loves it. "I wish I could have been here to see it. I dream of when we will be together again."

"Can I see?" The words are unsure, despite his earlier words old habits die hard, promising never to look unless he wants it, it was his choice, never yours.

"Please." It's soft, tender as you shakily wobble on legs to walk across the room, fingers ghost over the switch before a loud knock against the door makes even Din's stomach drop.

"Padawan?" Luke's voice makes Din scowl, what is it with this guy?

"Yes Master?" The way you answer so quickly with little regard towards Din has him swollowing loudly, jealousy searing his veins, it makes his forehead hot.

"While I have promised you a break the day is still not over, training will continue."

"Be right out." It's quick, the kiss pressed against his lips, it has him reaching out to hold you again but you already out the door leaving him gritting his teeth.

-

When he finds you again it almost an hour of looking for you. He's irritated, it shows in the way he walks, tall and intimidating with every crunch of sand under his boots.

Despite it being evening the sun is still blaring, it's too hot for anything but he manages to power through, though taking off the helmet is an option if is his only line of defense when it comes to be surrounded by Jedis.

It's an odd sight, you're legs are crossed as Grogu sits feet in front of you. Eyelashes fluttering in concentration, frustration clear in the way the junction between your eye brow wrinkles. It's magical, the way the large rock moves across the length of the pair. It's amazing truly, he's watched the kid do it many times but with you, it's different, seven months ago you could barely hold a blaster let alone do this.

He was in complete awe, watching as Grogu takes the rock himself but to him it's effortless. He doesn't even bat an eye as the rock moves higher and higher until it's explodes. The small pieces shoot towards him, the rocks dink against his helmet knocking him forward that he doesn't give you enough time to warn you that there's someone behind you, he feels himself jump forward to protect  but natural reflexes already have you up, your own blue saber flashes with Luke's green one.

It's a relief it's only him but also makes him want to longue and wrap his hands around his throat for even trying to attack you, it's instincts, his own will to protect his family. He was so caught up with his own anger, he didn't notice the small hands tugging at his pant leg.

"Hey buddy." It's the soft coo that warms his heart, the sound he missed so late at night, all by himself. It feels so right to have him in his arms again, it's a distraction for a moment, but the loud shriek that mumbles against your lips as the saber slices your arm breaks the moment.

Din stalks toward without hesitation, hands reaching out to pull Luke by his collar but hand stops half way there; a choking sound falling from his lips as he feels his throat start to close.

"Luke!" You exclaim, hands pulling on his shoulder. "Stop!"

Luke doesn't listen, tilts his head as the Mandalorian's other hand reaches for his own neck, the child falls from his arms but Luke reaches for Grogu as he floats towards him and that is when he decides to let go of his hold on Din.

"She is fine." Luke's tone is accusing, eyes lit up in anger. He knew the reasoning behind the Mandalorian's attack but it irritates him. Din falls to the ground into his knees as he coughs, lung begging for air. "She will heal, it's no wonder she was afraid of the force. You made her feel as if she was weak. Couldn't protect herself. Can't you see she is strong?"

The words sting a bit, you never felt like that with Din but the words of your master, where they true? Had he been the reason you never felt the force like this before? It’s not his fault, he’s always been a protector.

"Yes." Din chokes on the words, it's surprises Luke how quickly he recovers, leaning on knees, visor tilting up to meet his gaze. "I do, I don't need you telling me either Jedi."

The last word is spoken with gritted teeth, disgust as he stands, squaring up the man in front of him, pressing the top of his basker against Luke’s face. 

"Then do her a favor and never, ever underestimate her again." Din doesn't like what the Jedi is insinuating, hands balling in fist, finger coming to poke the Jedi's chest as he speaks. "Respect her Mandalorian."

"I do." You're about to squeeze between the two men but Din speaks too fast. "I don't need any magic tricks to beat your ass either."

"Din!" You hiss, the helmet pointing in your direction as a growl admits his chest.

"You're sticking up for him?!" Then once again you're minded how immature Din Djarin can really be. He's protective, overbearing but you expect more from Luke as he speaks. "You're just taking out the fact that Grogu and the girl are in my care, they are with me."

"My son, my girl." Then it hit you, all so sudden he wasn't an asshole, maybe a little immature, but he was jealous. The growl that rumbled his chest made even you shake. You couldn't find yourself to blame him either, both of the people he's ever cared for pulled from his arms, seven months spent with Luke. It made him insecure, dear the worst.

"Enough!" A hand presses against each other their chests, meeting Luke's first. Eyes warn him, "I expect more from you."

Then they move to Din with a scowl, "And you have no reason to be like this, Luke is my friend. He is helping me! I am strong now because of him."

"You have always been strong." The words make you pause, heart dropping. Guilt dropping your shoulders instantly. "You never needed to hold a lightsaber for me to see that."

A strong, confident finger lifts lifts towards Luke's direction, it looks like he's going to say something else judging by his stance, looks over you one more time then Grogu before stalking away towards the direction of the hall.

-

It's only an hour later, and Din is no where to be found. Luke has told you he's taken the child for a little bit, you can only imagine how that exchange went but respectfully allow him to have time with him, besides you doubt he wants to see you right now.

He was right, it was a force of habit trying to protect you but he has never doubted or hesitated for one second when it came to you. There has only been one person who has ever believed that anything was possible for you and it's the one you managed to chase away.

The room is dark, the only light comes from the gasps of the curtains the moon allows in. You have given up on waiting on the bed, instead curl up on the large longue chair in the corner, book open but you wouldn't even notice if there weren't any words. Too deep in thought over your Mandalorian.

What If he leaves without seeing you? Surely, he wouldn't, it was stupid fight, it shouldn't have happened but you shouldn't have accused him either. The rattling of the door knob makes you pause, daring not to breath that it might scare him away. He's quiet as the silhouette of armour makes it through the doorway, shiny, the darkness of his visor camouflaging him throughout the door.

The light flickers on, you want to squeeze your eyes shut, away from his gaze out of fear he might leave again seeing that you aren’t sleeping, waiting for him.

He doesn't speak, only stiffens his stance, arms crossing his chest as the helmet tilts down in your direction. "What are you doing?"

"Reading."

"In the dark?" You have been caught there's no reason to argue with him just turn a dark shade of pink as the book is closed with a loud echo. Tension fills the air, you're torn between apologizing and expect one first, his behavior was inappropriate.

"Are you happy here?" It's surprising watching the Mandalorian walk close until he's between the V of your legs, a soft breath caught through the static as he uses your thighs as an anchor for his hands as he slowly lowers to the floor in front of you. His force his horse as leans over, pressure pressed against your chin, it's not enough to hurt but enough to show he is angry. "Is there someone here making you happy? That isn't me?"

You don't like what he's insinuating, brow furrow with a deep frown and a scoff, "If you have something to ask I suggest you come out with it Din."

"Are you fucking him?" The words make you huff, pushing the warmth of his skin away but he reaches out to touch you again. He wants you to look at him, he wants to see the truth your eyes will tell.

The fucking nerve he has to knot his fingers into your hair, keep your head still as the visor moves up and down the soft features of your face, it's soft but shows meaning. At this very moment you here the way your body reacts to him, wanting to move closer, wrap the other hand around your neck at his tone, the authority in his voice. "I asked you a question."

"Really?" The way he stares just irritates you. Spending all your nights longing for him, all the tears wasted on missing him just for him to believe you were unfaithful. "I can't believe you just asked me that."

"Don't act like it's all me! I can see it, you sit so close that you're practically on his lap. He ate from your fork. He comes to your aid like I don't know you can take care of yourself, tells me of all people to respect you, never undermine you. When have I ever? He seems to forget that I was the person who first trained you. So, I'm going to ask you one more time. Are you fucking the Jedi? Do you like him?"

"Get out of my face Din!" The heat of his visor, the blackness hides any kind of emotion, all you see is the anger that comes from his throat, words stinging cheeks. It's impossible to concentrate with him so close, pressing his entire weight against your thighs.

"Tell me now." The words harsh, he needs to know, hear the words from your lips to know they are true.

"No! How dare you even accuse me of that? I have been waiting for months to see you again and you accuse me of being unfaithful?" The tears sting, almost hurt as much as knowing Din has little trust in you. His chest is raising fast, deep, quick breaths against your knee, showing just how worked up he is, he's frustrated, the throbbing in his pants gives that away and makes you think if there’s a different reason. He's insecure, jealous, absolutely pissed.

The harsh fingers leave your hair only to meet the edge of his helmet, you don't even get time to register before it falls to the floor next to you. Seeing is face is.. different this time.

It's clear, the first time was rushed, tear filled but now he look so.. good.

His brows furrowed in anger, nostrils flaring, hair thrown messily across his forehead, you don't even get time to look at his lips before his hands touch your cheeks pulling you into a bruising kiss, fingers nails forming small crescents on hips as the words are moaned against your lips, rushed with how desperate the Mandalorian is.

"You are mine." It's not the words that make you gasp but the hand that tugs the tips of your hair, pulling your head down more to accept his crushing lips. "Mine."

tags: @remmyswritings​, @b0nnyzz​, @heavenlymistake​, @mcueveryday​, @phantomofthewapera, @dindjarinswhore​, @hellothereobi​, @mudhornchronicles​, @alwaysreading1019, @stepintothelightz, @pepmintmocha​, @charlottemcgrace​, @the-last-twin-of-krypton​, @disgvst-d​, @atrxdixs​, @cal-ifornication​, @acourtofsnakes​, @waiting-for-motivation​, @that-sarcastic-pieces, @writings-of-a-fool​, @theocatkov​, @itsfangirlmendes​, @maileecabudol​, @ghost-lantern​, @mandoandyodito​, @sleep-deprived-things​,  @maddie0w0​, @bluegalaxyprime​, @stilledimperfections​, @altarsw​

#din dijarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin fan fiction #the mandolarian #the mandolorian imagine #the mandolorian x reader