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thefrogdalorian · 2 months

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The Best of Both Worlds: Chapter Ten

Din Djarin x Female Reader Modern!AU

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Word Count: 9833 Rating: MATURE (18+ MDNI) Summary: The realities of the secret he is keeping from you begin to weigh heavily on Din's mind and he seeks advice from a certain curly haired co-star on what his next move should be. Things don't go exactly according to plan, not least because of the typically awful English weather... Content Warnings: Alcohol consumption, reader passes out from drinking too much and Din lifts her up (But made clear how strong/athletic he is, I struggle to imagine it for myself anyway!). Smut (non explicit, a lot of implied action but it gets a little steamy). Author's Note: Thanks for being patient while waiting for this one! It took longer than I hoped to publish it becaus I wanted to get it juuuust right as this wis a very important chapter for Din and Sunflower. I'd love to know what you think of his decision.... 👀

10. There's A War Inside Of Me - (Din's POV)

Din Djarin was in a bind. A terrible bind. Since meeting you, he had weaved a web of half-truths. The unbelievable, ridiculous set of events that had introduced you into his life had led him to this position: ensnared in the centre of a tangle torrid of lies that formed a web of his own making. Din knew that the position was becoming untenable. But he did not have the faintest idea of where to even begin to untangle himself. All Din knew for certain was that every second that the lie continued brought fresh agony to his anguished soul.

The misery of not being in your presence was only compounded by the knowledge that you did not truly know who he was.

Things did not get any better when Din spent time with you. Every time Din was with you, he feared that the truth would inadvertently slip out somehow and the secret he was keeping from you would be revealed. His fears were well-founded as, throughout the short time you had been dating, there had already been several close shaves. Moments when Din had come precariously close to having his cover blown.

Like on that night in the hotel when a bottle of champagne had almost brought everything crashing down around him…

✯✯✯

Din watched in horror as you raised the bottle in his direction when he entered your suite, after briefly leaving you alone to check on Kuiil and Grogu. His astonishment was not merely because you had, somehow, gotten your hands on more alcohol. It was directed in equal measure towards the little gold envelope you were clutching in your hand.

“Din!” You shrieked. Din was completely bemused by how your previously sober – or at least sobering-up self – had been replaced by the giddy, giggly girl from the noodle shop.

“They knocked on my door and gave me a bottle of champagne! Me! A bottle of champagne! Can you believe that?” You giggled breathlessly. “They gave me this envelope too, addressed to some guy called Jim Freeman! How funny is that? Do I look like my name is Jim Freeman?”

Din still stood there by the door, unmoving, rooted to the spot. You had realised, he knew it. You knew exactly who the man bearing that name was. It was the final piece of the puzzle which had led to you figuring out Din’s true identity. He knew with absolute certainty you were about to confront him about the secret he had been hiding from you. He braced himself for everything to come crashing down around him. When it did not, and you took another swig from the enormous bottle, Din employed his most convincing tone and attempted to steer you away from your current train of thought.

“That’s pretty funny, Sunflower,” Din said with a nervous, awkward chuckle.

“It is!” You giggled. “It’s really funny. Did you know that the guy who created my favourite show has the same name?” You slurred, swaying slightly. There it was. Despite your alcohol-addled brain, you still remembered who the creator of The Mandalorian was. Din briefly tensed up, waiting for that particular train of thought to continue. When it didn’t, he felt himself relax as he realised that your drunken brain was too foggy to piece together the implications. Yet, Din was not yet out of the woods. When you spoke again, his blood ran cold.

“Wait!” You exclaimed, eyes widening as though a lightbulb had just switched on in your mind. “Do you know him? Is Jim Freeman your boss?”

“No, he’s not my boss. It must be a common name. Perhaps they got the wrong room,” Din said quickly, hoping you wouldn’t press it further. He looked around the room, frantic for a distraction for your inebriated mind, which shouldn’t prove too difficult, considering how far gone you were. Din noticed a door leading away from the main room of the suite, giving him the perfect opportunity to change the subject. “Have you seen the bathroom yet?”

“No!” You squealed delightedly.

“Come on, Sunflower,” Din smiled, extending his hand to you. “I’ll show you the bathroom. It’s incredible, it even has a hot tub!”

Din felt himself relax a little as you grabbed his hand and followed him into the bathroom, squealing with delight at the promise of the luxuries which lay beyond the door. He hoped that in your intoxicated state, you had put down an envelope addressed to the writer of your favourite TV show sharing a name to mere coincidence. Of course, it wasn’t a coincidence at all. Din always asked Fennec to book hotels using Jim’s name. He didn’t have much longer to fret about it, though, distracted by your drunken antics as you clambered into the hot tub, fully clothed.

When Din had finally convinced you to dress in the swimsuit you had packed and joined you in the water, he delighted in the enthusiastic way you grabbed him and kissed him as the two of you sloshed around in the hot tub. The intimate moment certainly helped to put his mind at ease, though he did not allow things to escalate much further given your vulnerable state.

During a break in your slightly sloppy make-out session, Din watched, dumbfounded, as you clapped your unsteady hands against his jaw, cradling it in your hands.

“You know, Din. You’re sooooo nice and kind, just like my favourite character Mando!” You giggled, clearly finding yourself hilarious without any idea of just how much your words terrified the man at your side. You sighed, staring at him contemplatively, and added, after a hiccup: “You kind of remind me of him.”

Din trembled with fear, despite the temperature of the water, as the implications of your words sunk in. He fretted that somehow, you had noticed the similarities. That even underneath the armour, with a distorted voice, he had failed to conceal his mannerisms once out of it well enough to fool you. Of course he had, you loved the show passionately. He should have foreseen this moment. He should have been honest from the beginning.

Mercifully, before Din could panic any further, he watched silently – with a stunned expression on his face – as you moved your hands from his cheeks down to his shoulders.

“And LOOK! Look at these broad shoulders!” You said, stroking his shoulders with a sleepy smile on your face. “So strong! You’re so strong, Din,” you slurred, before curling yourself into Din’s side and leaning down to rest your head on one of the shoulders that you apparently so admired. Then, you promptly fell asleep there, alerting Din to the fact when you began snoring loudly.

Din sat there, utterly baffled at the events which had just unfolded. At first, he panicked that you were making some kind of profound comparison between him and the character. As he considered it further, it seemed much more likely that it was your drunken ramblings, brought about due to your crush on Mando. Despite how far gone you were due to the baijiu and champagne, you had come terrifyingly close to the truth. You would never know just how correct you were.

Once he had ascertained that you were out for the count, Din realised that he needed to move you to bed. He sighed as he disentangled himself from your embrace and climbed out of the hot tub. Din scooped you up in his strong arms and was thankful that he adhered to such a strict exercise regime, perfect for lifting the dead weight of an adult human, passed out in a drunken stupor. Din laid you on the bed and towelled you off gently, before carefully tucking you under the crisp sheets. He dropped a gentle kiss on your forehead, before standing back and gazing at you sleeping soundly, blissfully unaware of the inner turmoil that your words had provoked within him. Din’s heart contorted in pain, as he realised his predicament. Tonight, a line had been crossed. Din knew that he had finally lied to you for the first time. How could he ever look into your eyes again? Your sweet innocent eyes, which gazed at him with so much devotion and admiration. If you knew who he truly was, the secret he was hiding from you, could you ever love him?

After Din left your room, he had lain awake for hours, tossing and turning in the luxurious suite next to yours as Grogu slept soundly in a travel cot by his bed. He couldn’t help but worry about the implications of the night, of the lie. The words he had said due to the golden envelope with Jim’s name on it. Din fretted about what would happen if you ever connected the dots in a way more profound than your drunken admiration of his shoulders. Would he lose you forever?

Din tried to push those depressing thoughts far from his mind as he looked at the little boy who was sleeping soundly by his side. He hoped for both of their sakes that he hadn’t blown it with you. That Din had been able to successfully explain the name away to your tipsy self. Din loved spending time in your company. He was stunned by how natural things felt with you already. Since meeting you, he had felt freer within himself than he had for a long, long time.

If he had ruined things with you, Din Djarin knew that he would never forgive himself.

✯✯✯

The following week, however, it appeared that Din had not ruined anything. Far from it, in fact, if the fact that he was currently making out with you on your couch was any indication. Din’s lips were pressed against yours while your fingers tangled in his hair and lightly scratched his scalp as Din explored your mouth and face with his kisses. He felt himself grow hard when you panted into his ear and asked him whether he wanted to take this to your room. It was a question that only had one reply.

As Din followed you to your room, he grinned as he felt your hand in his, leading him to the place where he hoped your relationship would finally reach a new level. Finally, it seemed that Din would have the opportunity to show you how attracted he was to you, to show you how much you meant to him. His pulse rate quickened as he thought about how he would get to explore every inch of your body with his lips and convey how much he adored you with something more than his words. He thought back to how frustrated he had been that night in the hot tub, when you had been so close to him wearing so little. It had been the sweetest torture. Tonight had been torture of a different kind. Feeling your body so close to his as the two of you had been gradually getting closer to each other as you cuddled and watched a movie. Din had been patiently waiting for you to make some kind of move, some suggestion to take things up a notch. Now that you had, it seemed that he would finally have his chance to worship your body the way he had wanted to since he had first laid eyes upon you. Din couldn’t believe how beautiful you were, how right it felt when he held you in his arms. He couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to get close to you. If the man who first laid eyes upon you at the convention could see himself now, Din knew that he would scarcely believe how lucky he was.

Now, Din was achingly close to having you all to himself as you guided him to your room. To your bed.

Din could barely contain himself when you whined into his ear, begging for him. Especially when you took the lead and pushed him up against the door, searching his mouth desperately with your tongue. The feeling as your hands snaked underneath his shirt and roamed across his skin was intoxicating, every inch of his skin was on fire.

He threw his head back against the door in ecstasy, euphoric at your gentle touch. When Din’s eyes briefly flickered open again, he glimpsed it. He knew immediately what it was. He immediately seized up in fear, hoping for one, brief moment that he had been mistaken and the two of you could continue along to where Din’s mind and body was screaming at him to take this. Unfortunately, as the endorphins left his body, Din accepted exactly what – or, rather, who – the poster depicted. He recognised the pose with an intimacy that only the man who had served as the model for the artwork would know.

It was as though Din was staring into some kind of horrifying, twisted mirror, and seeing his own reflection. He stared in horror at the enormous figure of Mando, looming over the bed. Your bed. The image of himself towering there, omniscient, omnipresent and watching the two of you embracing almost sickened him to his stomach. It felt as though Din, as Mando, was judging himself from behind that dark visor. It was a bizarre, out of body experience.

Din felt a sharp stab of pain, as though he had been winded in a stunt gone wrong. He was instantly transported to the time during the filming of season one, when he had been punched in the ribs after an actor had accidentally struck a gap between his plates of beskar. Just as it had been back then, all the air had been knocked out of Din’s lungs when he looked up above your bed and saw the poster you hung there. The effigy of himself, of the character he portrayed, known to millions of people around the world – including you – hanging there, right above where he wanted to take you. Din knew he couldn’t make love to you underneath a poster of himself. That would be sick and twisted. The thought of the black t-visor boring down at him, staring at him judgmentally as he took you on the bed… it was sickening.

It was then that he had pulled away and ran away, like a coward, rather than telling you the truth…

✯✯✯

Things had not gotten any easier for Din in the days that had followed since that evening in your bedroom. His soul was as anguished as ever, as he realised the precariousness of his situation. It had taken all of his strength and experience to make it to the end of another week of filming. Between takes, however, his mind wandered as he fretted about what to do, about where to even begin, were he to tell you the truth.

Events from that night at your flat in particular had been weighing heavily on Din’s mind. It wasn’t as though Din had ever been in the dark about your love for the show that he was the star of, but seeing an image of himself in your bedroom, right above your bed, had rocked him to his core. It had made him realise what a dangerous position he had put himself in by being reckless and exploring a relationship with you. The worst thing was how much he cared for you. He was at constant war with himself, wondering how he dared to have the right to say he cared for you after the way he had purposefully hidden something from you. After he had lied to you.

Of course, when he thought of that night, Din was frustrated at how close the two of you had finally been to taking your relationship to another level, only to be stopped short by unforeseen circumstances. That frustration paled in comparison to how terrible Din felt at the thought of how personally you might have taken the interaction.

He had tried to make it clear that his reason for backing away was not because he didn’t want you or was not attracted to you. Din knew that if you knew some of the ways he thought about you, you would never think such a thing. It broke his heart to think that you may have ever considered such a terrible thing to be true, when in reality, he wanted you more than anything.

Din ran, in part, because seeing the image of a version of himself staring back at him – a character that you loved and had passionately defended that day at the convention – freaked him out due to its looming presence over your bed. He also ran because seeing that poster was a stark reminder of the secret he was hiding from you. Din realised that he could not in good conscience take things any further without first being honest with you about who he really was.

Lying to you was one thing, a matter he still bitterly regretted but actually falling into bed with you without having first had the guts to tell you the truth about the secret he had been keeping from you? Well, that would feel, to Din, like a betrayal of you. So, despite how much Din had ached to stay and allow himself to fall in bed with you, the pang of terror that he felt as the steely, unrelenting gaze of his own T-visor stared back at him had sent him running for the hills.

Try as he might to push it from his mind and distract himself with filming and taking care of Grogu, thoughts of that night and his near-betrayal of you continued to feature prominently in Din’s mind, even when he was on set. Between takes, he would think of how he was going to cut himself free from the tangle of lies he had weaved for himself.

Every scenario that he ran through in his mind of how to move forward seemed to have some downside. There was to be no way out of this particular predicament. A real bind, in every sense.

Din was in an incredibly difficult position. Albeit one that he had only himself to blame for putting himself in. He knew at the time that pursuing something with you, even after he knew how big of a fan of Mando you were, was probably not the smartest idea. Yet, not having you in his life was unthinkable. You had bowled him over with your attentiveness, your intelligence and your kindness towards Grogu. Just being yourself had caused the ordinarily stoic and composed man, a trained warrior, to lose all rational thought. His Sunflower, his beautiful Sunflower, had brought so much vibrancy to his life.

It was better to tell you the truth before you figured it out yourself. Din knew that if he left it too long and you figured out who he was before he had told you, it might hurt you. He had already had more than enough close shaves. There had been a couple of occasions when things had gotten too close for comfort for Din’s liking, especially for a man who always liked to be in control.

It wasn’t just the envelope that had brought you dangerously close to uncovering the truth that night in the hotel. There was the other moment when the two of you were splashing around in the hot tub. He remembered how you had insisted that he reminded you of Mando. It was more of a comparison to his physical attributes, rather than any concrete theories. But still, Din had panicked, frantically wondering whether the bottle of champagne that had been delivered in Jim’s name had made something click for you. He tried his best to maintain an air of calmness outwardly, while inside, Din was frantic that you hadn’t been in an entirely drunken stupor when he explained the name away.

Mercifully, the following morning when you woke up, Din discovered that you had been so out of it that you hadn’t even remembered whether you had slept together and had been utterly convinced that you had gone to the spa. If you couldn’t remember those two things, there was no way you remembered the envelope or the comments you made to him in the hot tub. It had been too close for comfort, but you had not brought it up on subsequent dates and it seemed that it was long out of your mind.

Din wondered if these close calls, the way you had unknowingly come close to uncovering the truth, had perhaps been a sign that he needed to be honest with you. He considered how, if your hands had roamed just a little lower than merely his stomach when the two of you were kissing in your bedroom, things would have passed a point of no return. Din wanted you so badly that he was sure that even having seen the poster, he would have been left with no choice but to stay with you. To finally get close to you and feel your body against his, without any barriers. Just the two of you, finally becoming one.

Perhaps it was for the best then, that he had spied the poster when he did. That there was possibly a hint of hesitancy in your ministrations which had bought him some time. Instead of focusing on his frustration, Din wondered whether he should be grateful that events had played out the way that they had. He would never be grateful that he had pushed you away and upset you, of course. But perhaps this was the wake up call he needed, an opportunity he should seize as now, he had no choice but to address his bizarre behaviour.

But every time he imagined himself telling you the truth, Din felt himself trembling with nerves, in stark contrast to his usual stoic nature. He wondered how he would ever get the words out, how to even begin to tell you the truth. It was such a ridiculous, unimaginable predicament that someone as ordinarily calculating and meticulous as Din had gotten himself into.

It didn’t help that he could not shake you from his mind, either.

No matter how hard he tried, visions of your face would not stop flickering through his mind. Even when he was not with you, Din longed for your presence, to feel you close to him. To press more kisses against your soft lips and traverse your soft skin with his hands. He could not stop thinking about you, no matter how hard he tried. Not when he was on set, or alone at home with Grogu, or lying awake at night. You were all that was on his mind.

✯✯✯

Somehow, despite how distracted Din had been, he had successfully made it through another week of filming The Mandalorian without another disastrous day like the one he had after encountering you at the museum when he had been sent for an early lunch. Well, almost made it through. It was Friday lunchtime on set and Din found himself sitting alone in his trailer with only his racing thoughts for company. The silence gave him an opportunity to quietly contemplate his next move. It was a warm summer's day, so Iggy had taken Grogu to a local park to get some fresh air so the little boy wasn’t cooped up in the studio all day. In his absence, Din felt his emotions all the more strongly, with no one there to distract him from fretting about how he was ever going to tell you the truth.

At the peak of his despondency, there was a knock at the door. Din placed his helmet atop his head and padded across the room, and discovered a certain eccentric, curly-haired co-star at the door.

“Heard Grogu wasn’t around, figured you might want some company,” Peli offered as she marched across the room and took a seat on the plush sofa.

“Thanks, Peli,” Din nodded, before taking a seat next to her. He sighed. Din was grateful for her presence, the distraction she would provide from his anguish, but he was struggling to keep his emotions in check.

“You seem a little stressed,” Peli noted.

Din shrugged. He wasn’t always the most skilled at talking about his feelings, especially not with someone who could be as abrasive as Peli.

“How are things going with your girl, Mando?” Peli asked. If Din had been able to drink the coffee that he had been sipping before Peli had entered the room in her presence instead of needing to hide his face behind a helmet after she entered, he was sure he would have spat it all over her.

“I… uh, fine,” Din stuttered.

“You don’t sound so sure,” Peli said, raising an eyebrow.

“No, things are great. She’s great. Fantastic, intelligent, beautiful. So funny and caring towards Grogu. It’s just… me,” Din sighed.

“Why? Did something happen?” Peli asked, her voice full of sympathy.

“I haven’t told her the truth, Peli,” Din admitted. “I can’t, I’m too afraid of losing her. But I fear if I don’t soon, I might push her away.”

Din elected to omit the steamier details of just how and why he had ended up in your room, knowing that Peli would never let him live it down otherwise. He could already imagine all the ways she would tease him, so he continued with his retelling of events, minus the salacious details:

“I was at her flat last weekend. We were having a lovely evening but then I saw, in one of the rooms, that she had a poster of me, of Mando. I knew she was a fan but just seeing it, I freaked out,” Din winced at the memory. “I ran away. I feel like I can’t lie to her anymore, but I don’t know how to tell her the truth.”

“Oh, Mando,” Peli said sympathetically, squeezing Din’s arm just underneath his pauldron in an attempt to console him. “It seems as though you’re really in a tough spot.”

The fact that Peli wasn’t laughing or teasing him, somehow made Din feel even worse about the whole thing. At least if Peli had made some teasing remark or joke about it, things would have felt far more normal and less intimidating to Din. Instead, the fact that Peli actually felt bad and was comforting him, was a testament to the seriousness of the situation.

“I know. I don’t know what to do, Peli,” Din admitted.

“Can you tell her?” Peli asked. “I mean, are you allowed to? Is there anything in your contract that would forbid you from telling other people?”

“No,” Din replied, honestly. “I can tell whoever I want, but others are forbidden from naming me. There are only a handful of people that know my identity.”

“So if you wanted to, right now, you could take your helmet off and show me your face?” Peli said, clearly stunned at the information.

“I could,” Din confirmed.

“But you’re not going to.”

“No, Peli. I’m not going to,” Din agreed, relieved that the question was hypothetical, that she was not pushing him.

“Well, that’s interesting to note,” Peli said with a smirk and Din found himself relieved that the characteristic teasing tone he was so used to was back. “No, seriously, Mando. I think you just have to come out with it and tell her the truth. Does she talk about the show a lot? I mean, does she talk about it enough that after telling her the truth, you would feel like she was only staying with you because she’s a fan of the show and not because she likes you as a person?”

“No, not at all. Our connection goes deeper than all of this,” Din said, gesticulating towards his armour. “She mentioned Mando once when she was wasted. She said that I seemed as nice and kind as him and something about how I had broad shoulders. Which I suppose are all compliments. And I didn’t realise that people paid any attention to my shoulders.”

“Oh yeah, absolutely,” Peli nodded, her eyes glazing over slightly as she agreed. “I mean the suit! The suit just makes you look broad!”

Din smirked behind the helmet and shook his head at the kooky woman before him. Peli could be ridiculous sometimes. Din always felt as though she was an older relative, always keen to look out for him. Until sometimes, when she would make comments which led Din to believe that she possibly had a crush on him. Theirs was a confusing dynamic, but ultimately Din knew how deeply they both cared for each other.

“Anyway, Mando. I think you have to tell her before things get any more serious between the two of you. If you wait, she might feel as though you lied to her. Maybe she’d even resent you, after finding out the truth. I don’t think there’s any way around it. Being The Mandalorian is such a big part of your life, I can’t imagine you hiding that from anyone. I mean, have you considered the fact that you will probably leave the country soon, after filming finishes?”

“No. I hadn’t even thought of us leaving. Um, I was considering sticking around since Grogu seems to love it here so much. It’s quiet and peaceful. I was thinking Grogu and I could build a life together here, with her.”

“Awwww, Mando. Look at you, settling down, putting down roots!” Peli teased.

Din huffed a laugh from underneath his helmet, but truthfully Peli’s words terrified him. Could he ever truly stay in one place and allow anyone to occupy his heart entirely? Din knew that if anyone was going to convince him to finally make a home somewhere, it was going to be you.

That thought should have excited him, thrilled him as he imagined your future together. But as he went about the rest of his day and finished filming, all he could think about was the terror of losing you forever when he finally told you the truth. Lying about the name on the envelope, deflecting questions about his job, while you ranted about yours. Would you ever forgive him?

Seeing Grogu after he arrived home did not even help his anguished soul, either. Even as he played with his son that night, visions of your face contorting in pain and rage as you discovered the truth about his identity played in his mind, over and over.

Despite understanding that telling you the truth was the best course of action, Din was still absolutely terrified. After putting Grogu to bed, he sat on the couch and texted you, laughing at the humour that shone through in your every word as you caught him up on your week. With each string of letters and message received, your words unknowingly only added to Din’s anguish. The feeling that he continued to live a lie was never far from his mind. His guilt for starting something with you when he knew that he was hiding a secret that would surely change everything loomed over him.

Din knew that he had to tell you the truth about who he was. Telling the truth was the right thing to do. A man as honourable as Din valued the truth above all else. He knew that it might cost him everything, but he couldn’t stand to see you hurt if he waited any longer to tell you the truth. Din knew that coming clean could change everything between the two of you. He was aware that you might even hate him after discovering that he had not been entirely transparent with you, but it was a risk he had to take if he was going to secure any kind of future with you. Din knew that healthy relationships could not be built upon lies and deception. At least not without them crumbling eventually.

It wasn’t going to be easy, though.

As he went to bed that night, Din fretted that the next time he laid his head upon his pillow, he would have lost you forever. He feared that you would never speak to him again after he finally came clean and revealed the truth…

✯✯✯

Ding dong.

Din bounded to the door enthusiastically after hearing the doorbell ring, leaving Grogu momentarily unattended in the kitchen. Despite the part of him that was dreading the news that he knew he would have to impart on you, he couldn’t wait to see you. Din had been practically giddy all morning, the thought of finally having you in his house was an electrifying prospect.

Din hoped that telling you the truth wouldn’t change your relationship in the long run. He supposed that you would probably take some time to process his revelation, and he wouldn’t be able to blame you for that. Din imagined that discovering that the guy you had been dating for a couple of months was secretly the actor from your favourite show would take some time to wrap your head around. For a man usually so meticulous and deliberate with his actions, surprisingly, Din hadn’t thought precisely about how he would tell you. He just hoped that he would slip it into conversation perhaps gradually with some hints that would lead you to hopefully connect the dots without too much intervention from him.

The first sight of you, after Din opened the door, caused all thoughts of telling you to flee far from his mind. You looked so beautiful, even though you were not dressed for anything more formal than a casual afternoon with Din and his boy. He stood there for a second, transfixed at the way you wore your hair and how your clothes complimented your features perfectly.

“Earth to Din!” You giggled, waving a hand.

“Oh!” Din shook his head, finally realising that he had been standing there wordlessly admiring you. “Come on in, Sunflower.”

Din’s heart swelled as you smiled and stepped over the threshold, gracing his cottage with your presence for the very first time. It only expanded further when you wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned in for a kiss. When you finally broke away for air, you leaned your forehead against Din’s and smiled shyly.

“Hi,” you whispered. “Been wanting to do that all week.”

“Me too,” Din smiled, enjoying the intimacy of the moment. “Come on, I’ll show you where we’re having lunch.”

Din stepped back from your embrace and began walking through the corridor which led to the kitchen, eager to see his son.

“Grogu can’t wait to see you, I made us–” but Din trailed off when he realised he did not hear your footsteps behind him.

Din smiled at the way you had stopped in the corridor, a look of awe on your face as you glanced out of the old paned window towards the rolling lush green hills that lay just beyond the window. When he had first moved here, Din had found himself just as awestruck as you were. Somewhere along the way, he had forgotten just how beautiful the view was. Life had gotten busier, his schedule more hectic... but thankfully you were here to bring some peace back.

“In under an hour I’ve gone from the sprawl of the city to something as peaceful and scenic as this,” you whispered in amazement. “It’s beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” Din breathed as he walked up behind you and placed his strong arms around your waist. He nuzzled into your hair, enjoying your scent and delicately kissed the top of your head.

Din was happy to hold you in that embrace for a few minutes, holding you closely and tightly as if he were scared that you were going to slip away from him somehow. He felt as though you might, given the enormity of what he had yet to tell you. Plus, he wanted to make up for the way he had pushed you away the previous week and underline how attracted he was to you. Din probably could have stayed there all afternoon, holding you close and feeling the calmness and warmth that spread throughout his body whenever you were in his arms. But it seemed that his son had other ideas. Grogu let out a loud babble from the kitchen and Din released your waist, not without one final kiss.

“I’m afraid that my cooking skills are not quite as good as yours,” Din admitted as the pair of you walked to the kitchen, hand in hand. “So I just made us some sandwiches.”

“Sounds wonderful,” you smiled as you entered the kitchen. “Hi Grogu!” You said cheerfully to the little boy who was sitting patiently in his high chair at the table, clearly eager to commence with the lunch that his father had lovingly made for him.

Din loved the way you greeted Grogu, you spoke to him as though he was a person and not just a cute child. Din knew that somehow, Grogu sensed the world around him on a deeper level than most children of his age did, due to his past. It was something that both broke his heart but made him incredibly proud to be this little boy’s guardian.

“Those sandwiches look like they were made by someone who loves you very much,” you said, nodding towards Grogu’s plate before smiling at Din.

Din found himself blushing as he realised that you had noticed the way he had prepared Grogu’s food. He had painstakingly cut the crusts off Grogu’s sandwiches and chopped them into triangles. It was just how Grogu preferred them, he couldn’t resist spoiling the little boy and giving him pretty much everything that he wanted. If there was something that made Grogu happy, Din would not hesitate to accommodate him.

✯✯✯

After lunch had been eaten, Din was about to suggest going for a walk. He thought that he could perhaps use the stunning scenery to his advantage, to distract you from the wrath that you would no doubt wish to reign down upon him after you discovered the information that he had been hiding from you. But you were first to speak, and your words struck terror into Din’s heart.

“You know, it’s funny because I thought I recognised the name of this village for some reason, and when we drove over here, the driver was telling me that there are some film studios here,” you babbled excitedly. “He told me that this is where they made the original Star Wars movies. I didn’t realise how close it was to where you live, Din!”

Din was frozen by your comment, utterly blindsided by your words. Was that a hint, a question? Was it wrong that he desperately hoped it was? At least he wouldn’t have to begin the conversation himself, then. Plus, Peli had suggested that he take a run-up to the reveal by perhaps first telling you that he worked on the show and then eventually saying that he was in fact The Mandalorian. Din knew that this would be the perfect chance to slip it in, tell you that yes, he did work at the studios and what was more, he worked on your favourite show. Instead, Din felt himself frozen, paralysed by fear. Despite the moment which had fallen into his lip, he could not seize the opportunity.

“Oh, sorry,” you mumbled, looking down in embarrassment. “I forgot you don’t like Star Wars.”

Din breathed a tremendous sigh of relief, the moment had passed, without him even needing to intervene.

“It’s fine, Sunflower,” Din smiled. “I never realised just how close it was,” Din shrugged, busying himself with clearing the plates.

It was another lie. They were almost becoming too easy now, too habitual. If you weren’t currently speaking to Grogu and making the little boy roar with laughter, perhaps Din’s mind would have been spiralling and berating himself for his lies. Instead, he was smiling back at the interaction as he tidied the mess from your lunch away and thinking just how perfectly you had already fitted into life in his cottage…

✯✯✯

Din felt the comforting weight of Grogu in his baby carrier, nestled against his chest as the three of you strolled through the stunning countryside. It was a presence that Din attempted to ground himself with, to draw strength from as he thought about beginning to tell you the truth. The words ran through his mind, over and over. But he could not bring himself to vocalise them, to begin telling you the truth. Din peered down at Grogu’s curly hair, feeling his heart constrict when he thought of all his son had been through in his young life. The child had seemed happiest here, in this location, out of the numerous places they had lived together. Not only that, but Grogu had seemed at his happiest with you. How could Din ever bring that crashing down for him?

As you strolled up a hill towards a particularly stunning view that Din enjoyed hiking up to whenever he had a day off, Din considered that now would be the perfect opportunity to just come clean to you and inform you that he was in fact, the man behind your favourite TV show. Something was stopping him each time. It was the way you looked, your complexion glowing against the landscape. It was the way you felt, your soft hand in his, fingers laced tightly together. It was how you made him feel, the warm presence in his chest whenever you were near. No matter how hard Din tried to visualise him saying those words and finally vocalising the rough script that had been turning over in his mind over and over… Din just could not do it. He was utterly terrified of losing you, of ruining this thing that had become so precious and had been just what you both needed. To ruin that, to potentially cause himself and Grogu to lose you, it was unthinkable.

So he stayed quiet. Din realised he was doing something he utterly despised: being a coward. But he rationalised his decision as he looked down at his son, realising how calm and serene Grogu was at this moment. There was no way Din could contemplate sacrificing his son’s happiness.

Din’s silence caused his heart to flutter with anxiety when the two of you approached the crest of the hill and the grey buildings came into view. Once again, he had inadvertently put himself in a position where Din and Mando’s worlds were coming dangerously close to colliding.

Din regretted his decision to suggest this particular route almost as soon as the three of you made it to the crest of a fairly sizable hill about half a mile from his house. His regret did not come due to the grey clouds that had suddenly rolled in across the horizon. It came because he realised, far too late, that his place of work was on full display from up here. The grey buildings that comprised The Volume were visible, even behind the tall ferns that had been planted to try and obstruct the views. Din knew that since you were such a big fan of the show, you likely knew full well that it was not only the original Star Wars movies which had been shot here, but The Mandalorian too. Inviting you to his home had been a risk for numerous reasons, but this walk had been downright reckless.

Din glanced over at you, wondering if you had connected the dots. He found your expression impossible to read, but probably one of awe due to your surroundings rather than realising the significance of the buildings. If you had realised their significance, however, you had not vocalised it to him. Din hoped, as you stood there appreciating the view that you were too busy focusing on the rolling hills and lush greenery to realise the importance of the buildings before you.

Mercifully, the climate of Din’s temporary home country was here to bail him out. It was early August, but that did not stop the typical English weather from being as unpredictable as ever. The grey clouds that had rolled in suddenly looked more ominous than they had when the three of you had first reached the crest of the hill. Din noticed that the air was suddenly incredibly peaceful and still.

But not for long.

The heavens opened, and thick raindrops were suddenly pelting the three of you. Grogu let out a squeal as his father moved to place a hood over his unruly curly hair. Din looked around, fearful that you would be cold and upset that your walk had been ruined. But instead of finding you despondent or enraged, Din was relieved to see the enormous grin that had swept over your features. As the pair of you began to take in your predicament – stranded on top of a hill with a toddler in tow as a storm swept in – Din found that he could not do anything except laugh. He was almost bent double, hands on his knees as he dissolved into fits of giggles. Din had not been this carefree, he had not laughed this much for a long time. But, here, with you… in this stupid situation that would have probably completely freaked him out if he was here with anyone else on earth… he could do nothing more than laugh. It was a freeing, welcome experience and he soon found that his cheeks ached after all the laughter.

“There’s a tree over there, should we shelter underneath it?” Your suggestion finally snapped him out of his glee. The idea of waiting out the storm underneath a tree seemed palatable at first, but Din soon realised that this might be a storm of such veracity to include lightning. After all, the rumbles of thunder had been the last sounds before the heavens had opened.

“What if there’s a bolt of lightning?” Din replied, having to shout slightly over the noise of the rain. He suddenly realised that despite the time he had spent outdoors in his life, he did not comprehend storms as well as he should have. The English countryside was rather unfamiliar terrain to him, after all.

“Good point,” you agreed.

Din looked at you quizzically as you reached out to take his hand in yours. Although the two of you had walked up the hill, hand in hand, he had dropped it in all the commotion of putting the hood on Grogu and making sure his son was okay. The rain was pelting down with a vengeance now, hard enough that Din was momentarily concerned that it was going to leave bruises. He was just about to open his mouth to ask you why you had taken his hand, when, without warning… you started running down the hill. Din almost found himself knocked off his feet, fortunately, his reflexes meant that your actions did not send Din and Grogu tumbling down in a muddy heap.

Perhaps it was the adrenaline of running hand in hand with you, or the distinct giddiness that rain has a unique ability to cause, but Din could not stop laughing the entire way home. Even as your pace slowed once you did not have the slope of the hill to assist your journey home, he was still breathless with laughter. The rain slowed somewhat as the three of you made it to the village, and had almost stopped when Din’s cottage finally came into view. Din was soaked to the bone and fretted as your teeth began chattering as you walked up the path.

“The heating should be on,” Din offered as he pushed the old wooden door open.

“Excellent!” You squealed, making a beeline for the radiator. “I’m staying right here!” You sighed, clinging to the radiator for dear life.

“Alright, I’m just going to bathe Grogu and then put him down for a nap,” Din explained.

“Okay, see you later Grogu,” you smiled. “And well done for being so brave.”

Din grinned as he ascended the stairs, his heart soaring at your words. Some people may not have even picked up on how scary a storm could be for a child as sensitive to Grogu… but you were different. You stunned Din with the depths of your capacity for love with every interaction.

✯✯✯

When Grogu was bathed, dried and settled for his nap, Din descended the stairs. A smirk appeared over his features when he realised that you were still in the same position. His smirk dropped as soon as he realised that you were wearing significantly fewer clothes than he remembered.

“Sorry, I had to take my shirt and jeans off,” you shrugged. “Couldn’t bear the feeling of wet clothes.

“It’s fine, Sunflower,” Din nodded, but his brain was struggling to comprehend the sight before him. Of you, topless, in his house.

“Din?!” You exclaimed, Din snapped his head to look at you, not realising that he had been ignoring you. “I said, is it okay if I take a shower?”

“Oh! Right, sorry of course you can. I’ll get you a spare pair of pyjamas.” Din said, mouth slightly ajar as he regarded you in just your underwear. He had seen you in only a swimsuit that night in the hotel, of course, but that had been a few weeks ago. And you had been wasted. Ogling you then had felt like he was taking advantage of you… but now you seemed to know full well what you were doing. Your shy smile indicated exactly that you knew the impact you were having on his body.

That night in the flat, when you had been about to finally fall into bed together until the poster that hung above your bed had stopped him in his tracks, was a distant memory. Din had cursed that poster endlessly since that fateful day, now perhaps he would curse it no more. Every day since then, he yearned to touch you, to taste you. Every time he had gotten himself off quickly in the shower when his thoughts had become too much to bear any longer, it was you who he imagined as he pumped his length with his fist. Your mouth around his throbbing cock, so soft, so warm…

“Hello! Din!” You said, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Uh, shit. I’m sorry.” Din said, absolutely mortified that you had caught his mind wandering again.

“I was just asking you to show me where the bathroom is, so I can take a shower. My eyes are up here, mister,” you added, with a flirtatious smirk.

“Sorry, yes, of course,” Din quickly recovered and moved in the direction of the stairs.

As he ascended them with you following closely behind, Din took a deep breath in an attempt to steady his racing pulse. He had invited you here to tell you the truth about who he was. Now, thanks to the weather, things had taken a risque turn that he had certainly never intended.

When he reached the bathroom, he pushed the door open and switched the light on. You stepped inside and murmured your thanks.

“Enjoy your shower,” Din breathed and then turned around to leave.

Din jumped as he felt your fingers close around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. You pulled him back towards you and placed your fingers into his curly hair. For a moment, Din wondered if he was going to pass out as you played with the damp dark brown hairs at the nape of his neck. He sighed and gazed at you adoringly. Then, Din groaned as you tilted your head to the side to kiss him, firstly on his mouth and then along his jaw.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t come with me,” you purred, your hot breath washing over the shell of his ear. Din shuddered with want.

Din nodded and took you by the hand. There was no going back now. No Mandalorian posters to stop you, no revealing secrets to halt this moment in its tracks. Din was already hard, throbbing with the weeks of pent-up desire that being close to you without having the opportunity to act upon it had produced.

Din wanted you, badly.

As the two of you stood there in the bathroom, Din was vaguely aware that he didn’t want the first time he had you to be in the shower. He wanted to take you to bed, worship you with his lips and tongue, show you how special you were to him, how much you had changed his life. Din wasn’t sure that pushing you up against the tiles of his bathroom as the hot jets of his shower cascaded over your naked bodies was quite what he had envisioned for your first time together. Then again, there were many ways that you had taken Din by surprise throughout your relationship. The more he considered it, the more desperate your moans got as he continued the steamy makeout session in his bathroom with you, the more Din was certainly coming around to the idea.

When you reached around your back to peel your wet bra off your body, all protestations had left Din’s mind. You were so perfect, so beautiful, you clearly wanted him so badly given how your cheeks were flushed, your lips parted and your eyes darkened in desire as you gazed at him through your eyelashes. How could he deny you what you wanted?

“You’re beautiful,” Din rasped as he gathered you in his strong arms, bringing his lips to your neck and kissing a trail down towards your chest.

“Let’s get in the shower,” you panted. Din was pleased that you had somehow maintained enough brain cells to remind him of why you were in here in the first place. Neither of you particularly needed any warming up anymore, but there was a feeling of griminess that lingered after being caught in the rain like that.

As Din stripped out of his remaining clothes, discarding them alongside your soaked underwear in a heap on the floor that he would deal with later, he almost tripped in his haste to climb in the shower alongside you. Knowing that you were waiting for him, naked, and how badly you wanted him was enough to almost make him lose coordination in his desperation. Din could hardly believe this was happening, this was real. Although at the time he had cursed the English weather for being so unpredictable, it seemed now that it would be a blessing in disguise. You had ended up exactly where he had fantasised about you. Except this time, Din wouldn’t be stroking himself as he moaned your name desperately into an empty bathroom. This time, you would be moaning his name as you finally came together as one.

Din entered the shower and practically moaned at the sight of your naked form under the water. He grinned at the sight of you waiting for him, a perfect vision…

✯✯✯

Din’s breath hitched in his throat as he walked into Grogu’s bedroom and saw the sight before him. After the shower the two of you shared – which had devoted far more time to pleasure than actually cleaning off, but it had suitably achieved its initial goal of warming both of you up – Din had given you a pair of his pyjamas to change into while he went to make a hot drink. The sight of you wearing his old maroon flannel pyjamas had sent a bolt of desire coursing through him that almost sent him stripping you straight back out of them. A task he would have relished, were it not for Grogu’s mewling over the baby monitor. Din had looked at you apologetically, but you had waved away his concerns and instantly gone to assist his son.

When he returned holding the steaming mugs, he saw you sprawled out on your stomach on the floor of Grogu’s bedroom, playing dinosaurs with him. It was a scene so shockingly domestic that it set every single one of Din’s nerve endings alight. You were being so attentive to Grogu, playing with him as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Grogu was giggling and clapping his chubby hands together. Din knew that he had had every intention of telling the truth, but it seemed as though the threat of missing out on moments like this was too great a risk to contemplate. Din set the mugs down and stood back to continue observing the scene before him.

“Thanks,” you smiled, before returning your attention to the boy.

“Come on Grogu, let’s play with this,” you said, leading Grogu to the corner of the room where a small wooden train set lay once he had become uninterested in the dinosaurs.

Observing you there with Grogu, Din felt as though the pieces of his life had finally fallen into place. Everything was too perfect. The hours Din had lay awake, worrying whether he was doing the right thing for Grogu by introducing you into their lives seemed like a distant memory now. Now, in you, Grogu had finally found someone he was comfortable with and happy with.

Din loved watching the two of you play together, swallowing a lump in his throat each time little giggles filled the room. That boy had been through too much in his life. To see him so happy was a miracle. Din knew that he couldn’t do anything to jeopardise that. If he told you the truth, he would potentially lose you and the love you had for Grogu, leaving their lives all the poorer for it. He would lose the love he hoped you already had, or would one day have for him, too.

Din had lost his nerve. He should have been disgusted by himself, for cowardice was not the Mandalorian way. Family was, however, an integral part of being Mandalorian. Din knew that he had taken this decision for the good of his family, so he reasoned that he should not be too harsh on himself. The time for processing the decision he had made could come later, for now, it was time to appreciate your presence.

Din grabbed a brightly coloured wooden carriage and sat cross-legged on the fluffy carpet, smiling at the way the two of you seemed so thrilled he had joined in the game you were playing. The way you had fitted in with his home, as though you had always been here, it was difficult to believe that it had just been him and Grogu for so long.

As he pushed the wooden trains around with you and Grogu, Din almost dared to dream that the three of you were becoming a family.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @toxic-seduction @survivingandenduring @readingiskeepingmegoing

#my fics #tbobw #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #din djarin smut

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issie-https · 10 months

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𝐈’𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐉𝐈𝐌 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐓

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: Jim Root X Female!Reader

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: No

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Jim unknowingly turns reader on during a show and she decides she’s ready for him.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT!! P in v(protected💪), oral(F!receiving), fingering and strong language.

𝐀/𝐧: I’m back, boo! Would ya bloody believe it??!! This one is acc proofread xoxo

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1231

I was stood backstage watching my boyfriend, James, as he played his guitar. The way his fingers moved across the strings of the guitar, the way he'd glance at me every so often and hold eye contact, I could tell he was smirking under his mask.

I was now swaying my hips to the music - yes, swaying my hips to Slipknot - and I could feel James’s eyes on me. He was watching my every move, his eyes were burning holes into me. I teasingly moved my hands through my hair, to my breasts, squeezing the covered flesh in my hands before moving them down to my hips and thighs. I was putting on a show for him, somewhat in thanks to him putting on a show for not just me but hundreds of thousands of other people. We locked eyes for a second before he winked and went back to looking at either the crowd - that was going absolutely fucking insane - or his guitar.

The band thanked the crowd before leaving the stage, both hyped up and tired. “That was fucking amazing!” I cheered as I gave them a hug. “Thank you, princess,” James smiled, connecting my lips to his. “Disgusting. Get a fucking room,” Sid groaned. “We’re going home now, see you soon,” I blurted before dragging James out to the car.

“Woah, what’s gotten into you?” He laughed as I fished the car keys out of my bag. “Nothing, that show must’ve been tiring. We should get in be- TO BED! We should get to bed,” I replied, swinging the drivers door open and getting in. I realised that I was almost a whole extra foot away from the steering wheel as it was James’s car. “Get in the passengers side, then” he laughed again. As he said that, he tapped my thigh — the slight bit of connection between our bodies lit my body on fire as the neediness grew in my core. I moved over to the passenger side and he got in the car, turning the key into ignition and setting off for home. The whole time, his hand was on my thigh, rubbing circles that were both comforting and turning me on. Did he know I was ready? We’d talked about it before, he said he’d wait until I was ready and fuck, was I ready.

The second the car were parked in the driveway, I got out the car and dragged him out too - accidentally hitting his head on the car door. “Sorry. Hurry.”

“Why are you in a rush? Are the FBI after you?” He laughed. “Don’t kill my mood, I’m begging,” I said as I flung the front door open. “What mo- wait, that mood?” He asked as his eyes widened. I slammed the door closed as I mumbled a ‘mhm’ and connected his lips to mine again — this time, in a needy kiss. He pulled away from my lips and said, “are you sure you’re ready?” “Yes, positive.” That was all he needed before he smashed his lips onto mine. His hands found their way to my waist then to the back of my thighs as he squeezed the flesh in his hands. My need for him was becoming almost unbearable as he picked me up. I wrapped my legs around him as he carried me up the stairs with ease. We parted for a second to catch our breaths at the top of the stairs. “Are you definitely sure?” He asked. “Fuck, yes,” I moaned as we connected our lips. “I’ll take care of you,” he said. We reached our bedroom and he wasted no time with kissing me against the door.

He let me down to my feet and helped me fully undress as he did the same. He was fully erect as we got on the bed and I lay down against the plush pillows. The sheets were made and neat but I knew that wouldn’t last long as he wasted no time in kissing my thighs. “Is this okay?” He checked. “More than okay,” I moaned as I tangled my fingers in his dark strands. He moved his face to where I needed him most and sucked my clit into his mouth while he circled two fingers around my entrance. He pushed his digits in and curled them against my g-spot. I let out a strangled moan at the satisfaction, his lips felt like heaven against my throbbing clit. I could already feel my orgasm building as he repetitively stroked my g-spot with his fingers. “Fuck, James. Feels so good,” I whined as the burn in my core spread around my body. I felt like I was floating in space as he pressed quick kisses to my clit. I wouldn’t be able to hold it much longer as my whimpers grew louder. “It’s okay, cum on my fingers, princess,” his voice was deep and husky as he spoke. I felt like I could see stars as I released on his fingers, white pleasure washed over me in silky white sheets — it knocked the air out of my lungs. I came down from my high and looked down at James who had a wide smile on his lips. “I want more,” I breathed as he brought his lips to mine. “As you wish,” he said as he grabbed a condom out of the bedside draw.

He slipped the rubber into his cock and teased my entrance with his tip. “Ready?” He asked, earning a nod from me. He slowly pushed his length into me, stretching me out. Tears slightly pricked in my eyes at the pain that slowly turned into pleasure, moans leaving my lips. “Good girl,” he praised as he bottomed out and started moving at a slow pace. “Please, James, go faster,” I whined. That was all he needed before he picked up the pace and started driving his hips into mine, quick and steadily. I looked down at where our bodies were connected so deliciously and at my lower stomach where his dick was making a slight bump on the surface. “Look at this,” he grinned as he put slight pressure on the bulge. Our faces both contorted into absolute pleasure and satisfaction as both our orgasms neared. My breaths became quick and shallow as I clawed my nails down his back. “Mm~ you feel… so good,” I moaned as he pressed kisses to my lips. He took one of my hands in his as his thrusts got progressively more sloppy. “Can’t hold it,” I whispered. “Do it, cum for me, princess,” he groaned.

The knot in my stomach finally snapped as I came around his cock with a moan. He came soon after, dumping his load into the condom.

We stayed like that for a second before he pulled out and put the condom into the trash. He came back from the bathroom with a damp cloth and wiped my core clean of my arousal. “You okay?” He cooed. “Amazing. You?” I said barely louder than a whisper. “Proud of you. You did so well for me,” he praised as he threw the cloth to the floor.

He lay down in bed beside me and pulled me to his chest. I listened to his soft breaths and the calm but erratic beating of his heart as we both slowly drifted off to sleep.

#slipknot #slipknot imagine #jim root #james root #corey taylor #joey jordison #sid wilson #craig jones #chris fehn #shawn crahan #mick thomson #paul gray #ao3 writer #writer #fanfic #author #imagine #issie https

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eddiessidegirl · 2 years

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Hell Bent for Leather

Chapter 6

Masterlist: x

Summary: You’re just now learning about what your little brother has been up to over the years post earthquake, and that formerly thought to be dead people weren’t

Pairing: Eddie x Henderson!Reader

Reader is a plus size Female with female genitalia, she/her pronouns

Slight Vol 2 spoilers but this is a fix-it fic

Warnings: Smut 18+ only, swearing, fingering (f receiving), p in v unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), slight mention of blood

Chapter word count: 2521

This chapter has been Beta read

MINORS DNI - 18+

Several hours later.

The party had returned to the cabin, Hopper and Joyce had joined in behind them as they drove up the driveway. Everyone piled out of the cars, a somber look on their faces. The rain had dampened their moods down a little bit. They were unsuccessful in finding a gate. Erica was standing outside the door, waiting for them with a look of panic across her face. Lucas was the first one to notice. “Erica, what’s wrong? What happened?” He called to his sister, jogging towards her in concern.

“I didn’t know she’d left…. Y/N woke up and I… I thought she’d gone back to El’s room but when I went to check on her, she…she was gone.” The rest of the group was close behind Lucas. The rain had turned the ground into a sloppy mess with no traces of footprints anywhere.

“You guys left a traumatized person alone. With Sinclair’s little sister. As her guard?” Jim asked them, shock and awe laced his voice, which rose in tones until it was at a screaming level. Joyce placed a hand on his bicep, silently warning him to calm down. Shame flashed across the entire groups’ faces, Eddie’s most of all. He should have known better than to leave you alone after everything he’d gone through earlier in the year.

Everyone made their way inside to sit down around the coffee table. Mike was the first one to say anything. “El, can you look for her, the way you looked for Billy?” She nodded and they began setting up. It only took maybe seven minutes of searching. “All I see are trees directly around Y/N. She’s scared but that’s all I can see.”

“She could be anywhere!” Nancy said, her fingers gripping at Robin’s wrist, who did her best to calm the older Wheeler sibling. Her soothing fingers rubbed between Nancy’s shoulders. Behind them, the front door snapped shut which caused everyone to jump a foot in the air.

Eddie had taken off running. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to somebody else that he cared about. Dustin called after him, but it went ignored.

He tripped over his own feet, over roots that dared to stick out of the ground. His white Reeboks slid across the ground and over mossy rocks. “Y/N! Please! Where are you?!” Eddie sprinted through the trees, rain pelting him through the leaves. Thirty minutes later, lungs burning as he turned sharply to run in another direction. His feet gave way, and he slid down an embankment. Pain shot through his tail bone, but he wasn’t giving up until he found you.

“Fuck! Ow.” Calling out your name again, he hobbled a few more feet before stopping for a small break. There was a stitch in his left side. He couldn’t help but curse himself for skipping out on gym class so much. He was going to need a short break to work the knots out. He began walking again a few moments later, checking behind logs as he screamed out for you. If you had come this way, you were probably hurt, scared, and worried. There was no way with the rain that you would have been able to climb back up that wall of sludge.

The sun was setting. Soon it would be dark, and Eddie didn’t know if there were predators in the Hawkins woods. He hoped to God that there weren’t any. So much time had passed by now, that there was no way of knowing how long. And for how long you’d been out here. It had begun raining harder, making the ground even slicker with piles of mud and pools of water everywhere. Still, he continued to call your name, desperate to find you.

You’d run for hours yourself, calling out for everyone but you had no idea where they were. Or how far you were away from them or the cabin. Every sound in the forest set you off, small screams left your lips every so often. You even frightened a deer by accident.

Eventually you tucked yourself in a ditch under a log as best as you could, trembling slightly. The ground was far from dry, your arms and legs were caked in mud. Blood seeped from a wound on your arm where you had fallen and gotten caught on a sharp rock. The forest taking its pound of flesh for your trouble. You were so physically exhausted, your plush body was tired from hours of wandering in circles and from pain, despite it being used to being active in your everyday life.

There were noises all around you, owls, crickets, toads, and even the wind along with the rain as it hit hard against every surface around you. In the distance, a voice was being carried towards you in the wind. Your heart rate picked up. Was this..that Vecna coming to get you? A broken sob escaped your throat. Body shivering, both with cold and fear, you managed to pull yourself as far back as you could go.

“Y/N?!” It was Eddie. Or at least, it sounded like him. How could you be sure? Nothing you knew was real now. Things that should be legends and fairy tales had turned out to be quite real. Footsteps began approaching, they were rushed, darting in every direction. Not until he jogged past your hidden location did you know for sure.

Wordlessly, your mouth opened. You wanted to call out. Using your good hand to push yourself forward, it came out softly, almost like a whisper. “Eddie!”

Eddie almost missed it, had he been a few feet further, it would have fallen on deaf ears. Turning his head to the right, he caught sight of you, dirty, crouched, and frightened. “...Y/n.” His feet bolted towards you, dropping to his knees when you were mere inches away.

His arms embraced you, whispering into your ear about how worried he was and how he was scared something bad had happened to you. Shaking, your own arms weaved their way around Eddie’s broad shoulders. You whispered your own fears back to him, tears bubbling over as your face buried into his neck. Inhaling deeply, the scent of Eddie engulfed you. Safety, that’s what he smelled like.

“Baby, you can’t go running off into the woods like that… what… what if something had happened to you?” Eddie’s voice was thick with emotions, his mahogany eyes staring down into your own. Apologies flowed from your mouth. You hadn’t meant to go so far away but you had gotten turned around and everything looked the same.

His lips pressed into the nape of your neck, and then your cheeks before landing on your own lips. It wasn’t the soft kiss of the night prior. This one was more wanting, hurried, fueled by fear and relief. Eddie pulled you close, one of his calloused hands gripping the back of your neck.

It happened quickly, first his denim vest and jacket were removed, then your shirt. The kiss broke only for a moment. Eddie unclasped your bra, and your cold fingers struggled briefly with pulling his shirt off him, a soft whine escaped his lips when the fabric came in between you. When the offending garment had been shorn, your arms wrapped around his neck. Eddie urged you to lift your hips and placed the jackets beneath you.

Torsos pressed against one another, his hands moved one back to holding your head and neck, the other came around to your nest and hovered over your breast. “This okay?” He asked you, you nodded. “Words please?”

“Yes.” With the singular word, he was satisfied and palmed the flesh, pulling gently at your nipple, tweaking it until it hardened. Your hips rolled up towards his, while Eddie’s pressed against the crotch of your pants. You could feel his cock tenting his pants, breath puffed between your mouths begging for more of each other. His head dipped down to capture the tender skin of your breast and nipple, grazing it with his teeth, his tongue flicking over and over until the pink stood tall.

The friction of your clothes wasn’t enough, you slid your hands down to his jeans that had become deeply sodden from the mud. Your fingers cold and hands shaking, they fumbled with his belt and then with the button-fly. Eddie could feel your frustration growing with struggling to get them down and assisted you in shimmying the denim down, his boxers caught in the mix and joined them around his knees.

A soft chuckle came from the back of his throat. “S’not fair that I’m missing more clothes than you are…” Laying you back, he pulled on the Lycra pants you had on. With how soaked you were from the rain; you hadn’t noticed how wet your panties had become until his fingers hooked under the waist band and removed them as well.

With how preoccupied you’d been, you hadn’t noticed his cock standing at attention, laying against his stomach. Heat pooled in your stomach. While you were staring, his fingers began methodically rubbing circles around your clit, his middle finger dipping into your pussy. “You good, Y/N?” He asked, slowly pumping his finger in and out as he readied you for the much larger appendage that awaited you. A choked reply of affirmation graces his ears.

Eddie could’ve came from just watching the pleasure etched across your face but he was desperate to be inside you. His fingers drenched in your slick juices; his eyes glazed over with desire for you. “P-please…Eddie…I need you now.” You pleaded with him; your pupils blown from how turned on you were.

He didn’t need to be asked twice as Eddie sunk into your cunt. “Shit, Y/N, you feel so good around my cock...” He whispered into your ear, having had brought his head up by yours. Moving slowly at first as he allowed your body to adjust to his girth, he began to move faster. He tilted his hips in just the right angle to hit the bundle of nerves that was your g-spot.

As he thrust into you, your legs wrapped around his while your mouth recaptured his lips. The world around you dissolving as you got closer and closer to coming. Moaning into his mouth, Eddie pulled away for a brief second. “Come for me, sweetheart, that’s it… it’s okay. Let go.”

His mouth latched onto your neck as you came undone, coating his cock as you came. You’d tightened around him and the feeling of your walls choking his dick had become too much. He didn’t even have time to consciously pull out. Eddie’s hips began stuttering as the thick hot ropes of cum spilled inside your cunt. Both of your moans mixed in the quiet forest. Sweat mixed with the rain coated your skins, hearts beating erratically.

Dropping your head to his shoulder, your eyes closed as you allowed your breath to even out. Eddie did the same, nuzzling into your clavicle, his fingers playing softly with your stomach in a comforting way. Sliding out with a soft pop as his cock softened. “I’m sorry… I didn’t have time to…” He started but you shook your head and smiled up at Eddie. It was fine and you’d take care of it later.

“Think they’re looking for us?” You asked after a couple of minutes, eliciting a soft laugh from Eddie. “More than likely. They probably sent Hopper out to find us…”

You sighed deeply. “Hand me my clothes. We may as well get dressed.” Eddie groaned but passed it over, everything was muddy as all hell. Your bra had thankfully only gotten wet since it had been tossed onto the log. The two of you got dressed in silence, both looking ridiculous, covered in mud and leaves in your hair. He passed you his denim vest, without the sleeves it at least provided a bit of warmth to your back. He slid the leather jacket on himself.

Taking his outstretched hand, he led you back towards the way he’d come looking for you.

It didn’t take too much longer for the both of you to find a light slope to climb, his fingers laced with yours as he guided you up the hill. The moment you crested the hill, bright lights could be seen nearby. They looked like a couple of flashlights. A light flush lit your face, you knew you both looked a mess, and it was obvious that you’d done more than simply fall in the mud.

Voices called out you, Steve and Hopper. “Oh boy…here we go.” Eddie muttered, puling you closer to him as you trekked closer to them. “We’re here!” He called out to them. The light beams bouncing as they ran towards you.

“What the hell, Y/N, why’d you—” Steve started to ask you a question and faltered when he saw the state the two of you were in. His eyebrows lifted, his eyes looking between each of you. “Shut it, Harrington, just help us find the way back. It’s fucking cold.” Hopper looked at Eddie sharply. “Sorry sir, caught in the moment.” They led you back to the truck which was about two miles away.

Both of you were wrapped in blankets from the storage box in the bed of the car, the ride silent. Hopper was mad that a: you both took off without thinking and b: that you’d dirtied his car seats that he had just cleaned. Steve was throwing glances at Eddie, trying to silently communicate to him about what had happened out in the woods. Eddie only shook his head, not wanting to talk about it. Even though it was painted on your faces, it was still between the two of you.

The truck bumped over the road; your head laid on Eddie’s shoulder. You were physically and mentally exhausted. He let you drift off to sleep, he would wake you up when Hopper got you all back to headquarters.

PLEASE SUPPORT WRITERS ON TUMBLR BY COMMENTING, REBLOGGING AND LIKING; ITS HOW WE FIND NEW READERS!🖤

Tag list: @alicefallsintotherabbithole | @tssf-imagines | @eponaartemisa

Thank you to @hargroveharlot for pushing my to post this even though I’m nervous as hell to post this

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddiessidegirl #stranger things 4 #st4 spoilers #eddiemunson #eddie x reader #eddie x plus size reader #eddie x henderson reader #eddie x henderson!reader #eddie x you #eddie x y/n #st fix it fic #hell bent for leather #eddie munson smut

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alovesongshewrote · 3 years

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Almost A Thousand Years - Killahead, Part 2 | Hisirdoux Casperan

Plot: You’ve known Hisirdoux Casperan for almost a thousand years. You’ve hated him for almost a thousand years. And for almost a thousand years, you’ve been cursed to feel each others pain. But somewhere in that time, things changed. [Hisirdoux Casperan x Mostly Gender Neutral but Probably Female Presenting Based on How Historical Men Treat Them!Reader]

Word Count: 5,258

Warnings: B A T T L E

A/N: HAPPY HOLIDAYS KIDS!!!!! also, i swear to god this was written a month ago, before aaron confirmed the skulls and wizards thing

Taglist: @furblrwurblr @rainningdoom @fluffydmonkey @blondie0458 @sitherin-mxschief @jinxedleo @lawlesshedgehog @einahpetsyarcip @dolphincommander @sorrels-scribbling @anxious-stitcher @alive-and-afraid @animedweeb333 @douxiesdamsel @saroski05 @justarandomhoman @tales-of-hisirdoux @blixeon @yagirlcheesely

It was about as surreal as you thought it would be.

As a child you were trained to fight; to stab, to slice, to claw, and to bleed. You were taught that humans were the root of all evil and that the Gumm-Gumms would one day take what was theirs. Now you were fighting with the humans, the evil, the oppressors, against what had been your home, your people.

And it was going surprisingly well. It turns out having insider knowledge is very helpful on the battlefield. You were able to block everything they threw at you, to dodge and weave through their attacks and land some pretty good hits of your own. Douxie had your back, of course, blue light striking down as many opponents as it could take. In return, you took out anything that even threatened to get too close.

It was going well. But it didn’t last.

“WHERE IS THE WITCH SPY?”

“Oh no.”

“(Y/N), stay behind me,” Douxie’s voice was a dull hum against the roar around you, and of course, the screaming troll in front of you.

“JOIN YOUR BROTHERS AGAINST THIS PATHETIC ARMY!!”

“Oh god.”

Douxie noticed the fact that you weren’t even close to listening to him and took action, moving in front of you, striking any Gumm-Gumm soldier who even looked your way.

“RETURN HOME (Y/N) (L/N)!”

So, that was it. That was what had kept you in the dark as a traitor for at least a hundred years. The very sentence that made you avoid Britain with all your strength. The thing that drove a wedge between you and the man you now loved.

Four words were all it took.

“(Y/N)?? (Y/N), love, please, answer me!”

You jerked your head, snapping back to reality. No matter what events were relevant to your personal history, there was still a battle going on. You had to keep fighting. You struck down another few Gumm-Gumms just as Douxie used some of Archie’s fire to dispose of another, another few.

“Ha, I've always hated those twits!”

“Valid!” you cried as you ducked under an opponent’s strike. You took out their knees, rising again, just in time to see Morgana descend from a sky wormhole. Just what you needed.

“Night has already fallen.”

“Oh, really? Couldn’t tell.”

Douxie rolled his eyes at your sarcasm, but you could see the grin on his face. That boy loved you and all of your shenanigans. You were shaken from your thoughts, however, when Morgana started firing spells into the crowd, yeeting her magic around with reckless abandon.

“Morgana’s returned! She’s enemy number one!”

“Go!” Jim yelled, “We’ll hold the bridge!”

“Hisirdoux, with me! I-You!” oh no, he was talking to you, “I take you in as my apprentice, spare your life from the sword, and this is how you-”

“Master, they didn’t have a choice!” Douxie grabbed your hand, pulling you behind him as if to shield you from Merlin’s wrath, “It was a matter of survival!”

“Survival! What-”

“Please, Master, let them help. If we leave them here, any of the nights might try to attack them!”

“And why should that matter! They are a traitor, are they not? Death on the battlefield is more merciful than anything they might receive after the battle is won.”

“I won’t let anything happen to them,” Douxie’s voice was calm, but you could hear the anger behind it, “(Y/N) has proved their loyalty to me hundreds of times. They’re more than capable and I trust them with my life.”

You broke from your reverie, eyes painted with concern. How could he trust you so easily? Why did he, even after everything that had happened? This shouldn’t have come as such a shock to you. He did love you, after all, and yet, you still found yourself surprised by this revelation. You couldn’t help the hesitant smile that crept onto your face as you squeezed his hand slightly. He really did love you, didn’t he?

Merlin grumbled something, probably regretting that binding spell right about now, before motioning for you to follow him.

You cast a wave back to the kids, a silent wish for their luck, before you ran after Merlin, your hand still entwined with Douxie’s. He didn’t let go until you reached a small group of ruins, at which point you, your wizard and the old man stood, backs facing each other, all of you peered out into the darkness. Archie flew above you, dragon eyes finding nothing out of the ordinary. Not yet, anyway. You kept your sword out in front of you, and you could tell that Douxie was doing the same with his brace. You had no idea what Merlin was doing, but you never did, so that wasn’t a big deal.

“I feel dark magic.”

“It means she’s close.”

You and the familiar both gasped as something ran through the trees. A chill made its way into the woods, surrounding you and raising goosebumps on your skin. You felt your heart begin to race as strange echoes continued to ring out through the air. They soon morphed from a collection of noises into a laugh- Morgana’s.

“An old man, a foolish boy, and a traitor; lost as always.”

Your small group moved slightly, scanning the forest for any sign of the sorceress. You could feel her presence, but there was nothing there.

“Do you dare run… or face my vengeance?”

Oh. There she was.

“Um, is there a third option?” Archie asked, sounding much too calm for the situation at hand. You couldn’t blame him though, you would have done the same. But you weren’t doing the same. You were looking over your shoulder just as a collection of roots shot out at you. Thanks to your little turn, you had an advantage, cutting the offending plant parts before they could get to you. Douxie and Merlin, however, were not so lucky. The latter was pulled to the ground and stabbed through the shoulder with a particularly sharp root. He barked out an order for Hisirdoux to run, which he could not do because of the roots clinging to his shoulders. You used your sword on what you could, and a blast of green energy from Merlin took out the rest. A little anticlimactic if you ask me.

Despite your escape, Morgana cackled, even as Douxie fired spell after spell at her with little success. While he made his attempt, you helped Merlin to a standing position, a task that became easier when Douxie rejoined you at the old wizard’s other side.

“Merlin, you’re injured! Badly… (Y/N), is there anything-”

“Hisirdoux, if I should fall this day…”

Merlin handed his former apprentice a scroll, one which was covered with notes and instructions about building a tomb, and the heart of Avalon. Your brows furrowed as you read over Douxie’s shoulder. That wasn’t ominous at all.

“Why are you giving us this?”

“Foreseeing the future means preparing for the worst of it,” he glared at you for a moment, and you wondered what exactly he could see. He clearly hadn’t seen your act of treason coming, but there were other things that made you wonder. Your thoughts were interrupted by more ominous Merlin content, “That includes your wounded friend.”

“Jim? What about him?”

“The corruption in his heart has no cure. When he returns to the future, it will overtake him.”

Oh. Oh.

Oh no.

You’d had your suspicions, but hearing it from the master wizard himself brought it to another level of reality. There was no cure. There was no solution. You were going to go home, and you were going to kill Douxie. Or you’d try to, at the very least. Maybe, now that Douxie was a master wizard himself, he could do you both a kindness and kill you where you stood.

…

Yeah, no. He wouldn’t be doing that anytime soon, but a witch could dream! You feel his hand on your back, a gesture meant to comfort you that only made you sick. How he still cared about you, even after all of this would confuse you for years to come. For now, though, you just accepted it. There wasn’t time for much else with an evil sorceress on the prowl.

“No, no there must be some other way! I made a promise to them, to Claire, to get them home alive, all of them!”

“Yet, to save time itself, you all must return home, even if it means James Lake will be no more.”

That wasn’t exactly a pleasant thought. While a distance stemming from your past had momentarily sprung up between you and the kids, the gap between you had since closed. You loved those little monsters like they were your siblings, and you’d do anything for them. The thought that Jim would have to die, to make another sacrifice when he’d already given up so much, was just another thing that killed you inside.

“And there’s no other solution?” you tried to keep quiet despite the rage that boiled inside you, not at anyone in particular, but at the situation as a whole, “There’s no way to fix this that doesn’t get Jim killed?”

Merlin shook his head, but you didn’t need that confirmation. You already knew the answer.

“Such is the burden of a wizard,” the old one spoke as your small group made its way deeper into the night, “To make the hard choices mortals cannot,” he grunted, slouching forward slightly, reminding you that you should really take a look at that stab wound at some point. Merlin, however, paid no real mind to this, instead, continuing his little monologue, “Now it is yours to bear.”

You looked away from your wizard companions to see a giant skull, lodged between a rock and… well, another rock. Some may call it a canyon, you called it fucking ominous and terrifying. The skull was lit from within, orange light seeping through the space where eyes had once stared out into the world. You wondered, for a moment, how these old bones had ended up here, and how they had stayed. What was the last thing this being saw? Was it the sky above, or the ground below? What could kill something as large as this? You didn’t ask your questions. It didn’t seem like the right time.

And really, it wasn’t time for anything other than nerves and anxiety. Without a word, you followed Merlin across the rocks until he stood in front of the skull, on top of an odd sort of contraption. You stood a few steps behind, safely off the weird cage thing.

“Morgana, reveal thyself!”

Before you could question the logistics of giving yourselves away, a portal, ringed with gold and made of shadows appeared, releasing the queen of the apocalypse onto another rock. Yep, that sure was an evil sorceress. Just what you needed at this time of night.

“Look what has wandered into my web,” nice starting point. Threatening, but not over the top. You cast your sarcastic thoughts aside for the moment, as valid as they were, preparing yourself instead, for a fight.

“These are dark powers you medal with, Morgana. Who granted them? Who resurrected you from death?”

“Wizards beyond your ken,” ah shit. Just as you suspected. ‘Wizards beyond your ken,’ was mysterious witch for ‘The Arcane Order.’

And then she was gone again. Dope.

“So, uh… we should head into the big skull of doom?” you asked, eyebrows knit together in a mix of concern and confusion.

“Yep, let’s go.” You and Douxie nodded at each other before helping Merlin scale the rocks and get into the skull, asking Archie to stand watch for a moment, just to secure his safety. He agreed only once you’d promised to call him if things got rough.

Inside of the first skull, you found a second, slightly smaller skull. What the hell was it with magic dudes and skulls, huh? Morgana had this as her lair, the Arcane Order’s ship was a skull, Douxie had his whole vibe and Merlin kept skulls in his office. Shit, even you kept bones around, though you were a doctor and arguably had the best excuse. Your thoughts ran wild as you examined the space around you, but they were interrupted by the reappearance of your least favourite murder-witch.

“Morgana!”

The two wizards prepared for battle, but you hesitated. Something was wrong here. Morgana was crying, no-sobbing. You recognized this, whatever this was. You’d seen it in yourself back in the 1300s. Yep, something was wrong alright, and judging by this, someone was probably dead.

“It’s your fault!” She cried, “You’re the reason Arthur is gone!”

Oh, so you were right. That didn’t really explain how Arthur’s blood was on your hands though.

“What?”

“Gone?”

“Uh, guys? It kinda sounds like the King is dead.”

Your companions had no time to respond as Morgana rose through the air, seeking misplaced revenge instead of proper justice. She fired a spell at the three of you, which Douxie ran to shield you from. Merlin joined him a second later, limping towards the younger wizard with your help. The second he stood on his own, your magic joined theirs.

“She’s too powerful! We have no choice but to seal her away!”

“I know. I’ll try to buy some ti-”

Douxie was cut off when Merlin knocked you both clear across the room and out of the way of another spell, one which left the old wizard in chains.

You felt the impact that Douxie suffered and you were sure he felt yours. Nevertheless, the two of you pulled yourselves up just as Morgana started on another speech.

“Oh, shame! Little Douxie finally gets his staff, just in time to die with it!”

She aimed her next attack at him, but you interfered, knocking her away with a shield made of your magic.

“And you! Traitorous little wretch!” you weren’t exactly sure which treason she was talking about or who she learned it from. You’d betrayed a lot of people over the years, she’d have to be more specific, “Why do you still fight alongside them?!”

You knocked away another attack before answering, “The shorter one is cute!” With that, you went on the offensive, landing a kick to Morgana’s stomach and striking her again with the butt of your sword. Your small victory didn’t last long though, as she struck back, the impact slamming you into the opposite wall and probably cracking a few of your ribs. You’d have to apologize to Douxie for that one.

Morgana scoffed at you, looking down at your crumpled figure as you struggled to stand, “Only a fool would fight for love!”

Her voice may have contained a little more rage than was necessary, and she may have been projecting a little bit, but she didn’t have time to say anything else. Douxie handed a few hits with his staff, using surprise to his advantage, and holding up surprisingly well despite the pain you both were in. Morgana turned her taunting onto Douxie, mocking him as they fought.

“You can’t even wield it!” you winced as she landed a hit, “You should stick to your usual tricks.”

You bit your lip as she struck him in the face- twice. This really wasn’t a great day for either of you, was it?

“Use the power of your staff! Make it your own!”

“Please, Douxie.” Your voice was quiet, and there was almost no way he heard it. Hell, you weren’t even sure what you were asking for, but in the next second, his staff turned into a fucking guitar so that was probably it if you had to guess. Or maybe it was the next second when he avenged you by smacking Morgana in the face with said guitar, sending her flying across the room. You knew that as a doctor you shouldn’t hope for someone to crack a rib, but this was an exception you were willing to make.

“What?!”

“BABE! THAT WAS HOT!!” you yelled, too shocked to say much else.

“Bleeding balroths! This is nuclear!” your wizard said, spinning the staff around.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that as you pulled yourself up from the ground. Of all the things Douxie had ever said and done in his life, that had to be the Douxie-est.

“Did you just strike me with a-a lute?!”

“Uh-uh-uh-uh. No, uh-uh. Spellcaster guitar, darling.”

You weren’t exactly sure what the fuck he just said, but you were 110% there for it. He played a lil’ riff on his staff, and you had a very brief mental debate on whether or not that took the throne for the Douxie-est thing he’d ever done.

“Needs tuning though.” He continued to play the riff for a solid minute, and you weren’t sure what was funnier. The fact that this was, in fact, something that was happening, or how Done Merlin looked with literally everything at that moment. It was both. Both was good.

“I meant make it your own weapon!”

Douxie finished playing just in time to shield himself from another of Morgana’s attacks, “Well, this is technically an “axe!”

“You are a huge geek!”

“And you love it!” your wizard yelled, playing again while running from Morgana, looking for an opening while avoiding a volley of spells. He was right. You did love it. That’s why you were going to help at the next opportunity, your (and technically his) poor ribs be damned.

“Hisirdoux! This is no time for dreadful music!”

“Dreadful?”

“Absolutely infernal.”

“I mean, I thought it was good!” you yelled, launching your own round of spells at Morgana, making it harder for her to land a hit on Douxie.

“No worries, this is just the opening track!”

“What do you hope to do? Blow out our eardrums?”

“Well, pardon me if this rock is too freakin’ awesome for your medieval sensibilities!” You had no idea how he did it, but he managed to land on one of the light fixtures (of all things) while you weren’t looking. You couldn’t really see him from where you were, but you were almost certain that he was doing the sign of horns and sticking out his tongue.

“Enough of your noise!” Morgana cried, blasting you to the side quickly before returning to her real fight. You were lucky that this blast was not as strong as her first. You were able to roll out of it without causing any real damage, a benefit to both you and Douxie. Speaking of, your wizard found himself locked in a Harry Potter-style duel, two magics facing off against one another in a single stream. It was not looking too good for your boi though. He seemed to notice this, and jumped from the light and returned to physical combat on the ground. Unfortunately, that did not end well either, and you bit back a cry as Douxie was thrown through the room. Yeah, things were looking rough. Time to call in the cat calvary.

You swore you were only gone for a moment, but in that time, Douxie managed to get himself pinned against a wall.

“Do not fret, Merlin. You’ll find a new apprentice to replace him. Are people not dispensable, after all?”

“Ok, go, go now!” you whispered to Archie, your tone intense, which was fair considering the situation. The familiar did as told and flew at the witch, sending her fling off balance and keeping her away from Douxie. Arch did a quick loop near Merlin, tossing the wizard his staff before circling around to land on Douxie’s shoulder. Merlin and Morgana began their fight as you ran to your wizard and his familiar.

“Nice work my dudes, you think you can keep it up?”

“Probably! Arch, light me!” you liked the sound of that. You liked the sight of it even more as blue flames encircled Morgana, trapping her, and allowing Douxie and Archie to make their final attack, keeping the sorceress in place.

“Hurry, I can’t hold her that long!”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got this,” you said, voice quiet as you threw your own spell at the witch from below. Hopefully, that would make things a little easier. It did. Douxie was grateful.

“You have lost yourself, Morgana! Bound to dark magic. I have no choice but to seal you away! Sigilia infractum!”

It seemed to work for a second, but then, for like, the third (?) time in that battle you were blasted back, Douxie fell with you and hit the ground harder.

“Man, this sucks,” you whispered as you pulled yourselves up, going to Merlin’s aid.

“Master!”

“She’s too powerful,” he groaned, “You have to finish this, together.”

“We can do that… we can do that! Let’s go!”

You and Douxie moved in sync, matching each other’s movements exactly. Using his staff, Douxie’s blue magic replaced Merlin’s green while yours froze the witch again, keeping her from attacking you.

“Sigilia infractum causera!”

Finally, the blast from the spell did not hurt you, instead, it did as it was supposed to, trapping Morgana. You let your own spell ease up, instead, lending whatever strength you could to Douxie, God knows he would need it.

“I will destroy you all! No matter what it takes, no matter where you go, I will end all that you love until you feel my agony!”

“Yeah, you aren’t the first person to threaten that! Come up with something original, then we’ll talk.”

The witch roared and threw a spell in your direction, but it disappeared into a shadow edged with purple.

“Hey! Hands off my teachers!”

Oh, Claire! Claire had found you somehow, that was good.

“I swear on all your lives, I shall rise again!”

“Already seen it,” the girl cried, throwing some much-deserved sass Morgana's way, “You don’t win. See you in 900 years!”

And with that, the spell was complete. Claire opened another portal, dragging Morgana into it. With that big historical event over, your adrenaline failed you and you staggered forward. That was pretty convenient considering it let you catch Douxie, who was doing much worse than you were. You noticed his eyes rolling back slightly, which was a cause for some alarm.

“Hey, heyheyheyheyhey, stay with us, you nerd, don’t pass out on me,” you weren’t sure you could handle the stress if he did.

“Douxie! Are you okay?!” Archie and Claire moved in, the former knocking Douxie back and licking his face relentlessly.

“Ugh! That’s-that’s disgusting!”

You and Claire both laughed at this, glad that at least this part of the fight was finally over. Douxie stole a glance at you and wondered if he had somehow died during the battle. How else could there be an angel before him?

“Well,” he turned his gaze from your smile to Claire with only minor difficulties, “I think we just saved history.”

You sat back, all fears forgotten for now in a moment of relief and elation as you watched your boyfriend give the girl a high-five.

“And you took down a ninth-level sorceress.”

“Damn right,” you giggled, which was new, but not unwelcome. You turned to Douxie, “Sharp work, samurai.” Your friends rolled their eyes at your antics, though they did it out of love.

The excitement calmed for a moment, allowing Archie to speak, “Merlin would be proud.”

“Yeah, if he wasn’t out cold.”

“I mean, it’s not a great look for him, but full transparency? I could probably take a three-hundred-year nap right now.”

Douxie laughed, but he wrapped a hand around yours and whispered, “Please don’t.”

You squeezed his hand, a silent promise that you would not answer your problems with sleep. Not today, anyway. To be completely honest, the problem immediately at hand could be solved rather quickly, by you, at least.

“Anyway, Merlin’s still been stabbed, so I’ll just-”

Fortunately, this was just a stab wound. No magic, no tricks, no possession, just medicine. That was what you knew, it was what you could deal with. It was over too quickly. Was that a thing you could say? Could you wish for medical treatment to last longer? Was that something you could do? Not to mention that he was your boyfriend’s surrogate dad, which just made things complicated. Either way, it was over too fast. You returned to Camelot, mourned the dead, said your goodbyes, and that was it. Time was up. You had to go home.

Home. What even was home now? You knew the answer. Home was Douxie. Wherever he was, you wanted to be. He made you feel safe, feel loved, feel every good thing that humans are supposed to feel, but- To save the world, to save his life, you would have to leave him. There was no other choice, either you stayed in the past and everyone died, or you went back to the future and risked his life by staying with him. You had to go. As soon as you got back, you’d have to run. You didn’t know where, to-to Spain, or Japan, or Cuba, Vietnam, Egypt, France, somewhere, anywhere, just to keep him safe. You didn’t want to do it. You just wanted to stay by his side, forever, if possible. But that was the thing. It wasn’t possible. And that broke your heart.

And if possible, these gosh darn kids were going to break you even more.

“Everybody, ready yourselves. We don’t have much time. I’ll dial us in for when we left.”

“But what’s gonna happen when we get there? The danger we escaped, it’ll be waiting for us. And Jim’s still hurt.”

You bit your lip as you and Douxie approached Jim and Claire. You really didn’t want to be the one who had to say this. You didn’t want to be around when she heard the news. Shit, you didn’t even want it to be news. You just wanted your kids to be happy, and to not kill your boyfriend, and to live for once. Maybe fate just didn’t like you.

“Claire, about that… Jim is-”

“Ready to face the inevitable,” Jim held out a hand to stop you.

“Jim, are you sure?” Douxie asked while you maintained your silence. You were pretty sure if you said anything you’d lose your composure.

“Jim?” Oh God, and now Claire was going to find out how screwed you still were. This was gonna suck.

“Claire, the shard in- There is no cure. That’s what Merlin told me earlier.”

You winced at the horror on the young girl’s face. She didn’t deserve this. Neither of them did.

“That’s crazy! We can find something! I’ll learn a spell, we can stay here!”

“If we don’t all go back right now, the future won’t exist. What kind of hero would I be if I sacrificed everyone else? Not to be ironic, but we’re out of time.”

“No! Douxie, (Y/N), tell him! We can fix this! You can fix this!”

You brought your hand up to hide your eyes from the sorceress. She was right, you should have been able to fix this, and tears wouldn’t solve anything. Your only solution was running away, and Jim- oh God, Jim. See, it was things like this that made you start drinking in the twenties.

“I’m sorry, Claire. He’s right. We must go back now, but when we do, we’ll find a way to reverse this,” he stole a glance back at you, and your distraught state only drove him further. He had to do this, to fix things when you got home. He owed all of you that much, “I promised I would return you home, and I am, but the portal can only stay open for a few moments. This is our one shot. Trust me.”

A moment later, he joined you at the base of the ship before taking your hand and leading you onto it.

“We’ll fix this,” he promised, his voice low so only you could hear, “Together. We’ll go home to the future, and we’ll fix this, and then-” your eyes met his as he paused, “And then, maybe, we could start our future.”

Despite the tears that threatened to fall, you smiled ever so slightly, “We’ll build a new one if we have to.”

It wasn’t until his lips met yours that you started crying. It wasn’t his fault it was just- fuck you would miss this. You smiled again as you pulled apart, though the tears hadn’t stopped. It was for his sake, really. Under normal circumstances, you might pretend that everything was fine, but for just one second, you wanted to believe it.

“I love you,” your voice shook, and you hated it.

“I love you, too,” his voice was strong, yet tired. And you loved it.

You pushed a small smile onto your face, trying to cast the illusion that you were okay, and that everything was okay, and that no one would die when you returned. Your attempts were quickly halted by a sting on your cheek. That came from him, you realized, as you noticed a thin cut that ran across his cheekbone. You ran your thumb over it, his skin patching together and healing under your hand. At least you could still do that one thing. Sure, you were a traitorous assassin, but by god could you heal a small cut.

Douxie smiled, his grin seeming more natural than yours. He kissed you one last time before letting you go and taking the time map. You watched him, not saying a word as he said something under his breath and activated the map and the heart. A beam of light lit the night sky green, going on for a moment until it formed a portal. You could almost see your time on the other side. That was it. That was how you would get back to the future. Yay.

It was weird. You’d known Douxie for so long, and hated him for most of that time, but now? Now you were dreading going back to your time, going back to general safety because it meant that he would die. It was just odd to think that there was a time where you would have wished for this, for a chance to kill him and avoid the blame. If you wished for anything now, it would be another way out.

You followed Douxie onto Merlin’s airship and walked past him, standing as far away as you could. You didn’t know what would happen when you crossed that barrier. You might try to murder him instantly, you might be able to control yourself, you might be able to fight off your curse entirely. The point is, you didn’t know, and distance was the best solution. So, you stood alone and stared off into the night as the ship moved off towards the portal until Steve’s ramblings returned your attention to your friends.

“Man, Camelot was crazy! Why don’t they ever talk about that in the history books?”

Douxie gave the blond kid a pat on the shoulder, and you watched as Steve headed towards the front of the ship where Jim and Claire stood. The girl was looking back towards you, but you couldn’t meet her eyes. Her boyfriend was doomed, and there was nothing you could do about it. And you would have done anything. For those kids, you’d give your own life in a heartbeat, but that wasn’t an option. Not now, not yet. Douxie, however, met her eyes, though only for a moment. You didn’t have to hear him to know what he was thinking.

“My burden to bear.”

And with those final words, the world turned green, and you were gone.

#hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #douxie x reader #douxie imagine #hisirdoux imagine #almost a thousand years #aaty #angst #hisirdoux #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #toa douxie #toa hisirdoux

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flamehairedwritings · 4 years

Text

The Photo-Booth

Characters: Chief Jim Hopper x Female Reader

Words: 983

Rating: E, 18+ ONLY

Summary: You and Hop need more... posed pictures together.

A/N: This lil drabble was inspired by a prompt from @missaudreyhorney and this post about an hour ago, and I just couldn’t get it out of my mind.

This story contains dirty talk, semi-public sex, and Hop calling you a lil slut.

Masterlist

Please don’t copy, steal or repost my work; credit does not count.

—

“Oh, come on, Hop, pleeeeeeease...”

“... All right, fine...”

Grinning, you pull him towards the fairground photo-booth, hearing him sigh begrudgingly behind you. It doesn’t deter you at all.

You don’t have many photos of you and Hop; he doesn’t exactly know how to pose for them, so the ones you do have are candids, which you love, but you want actual posed ones, and a photo-booth is the perfect, cute opportunity to do that.

Besides, you’ve had a great day, too; it’s the first time you’ve both been able to go on an actual date night in weeks and you want to commemorate it.

Pulling the curtain open, you find, as expected, only one stool, and he sits on it as you pull the curtain closed, the length of it falling to just below his knees.

You catch his lips twitching as you take a seat on his lap, draping your arms around his neck.

“All right, now I’m into this...”

“Shut up,” you laugh as his lips lift into a smirk, his arms wrapping around your waist. “Gimme some coins, please.”

Rooting around in his pocket, he pulls a small handful of coins out and passes them to you, and you push them into the machine, then press a button on the screen as they’re accepted.

Adjusting your position on his lap so you can fit in the frame the screen shows, you push back against his cock, and he releases a soft, involuntary grunt. Your lips twitch, and—

And then the most delicious of sneaky ideas crosses your mind.

You get six photos, with five seconds in between them to pose.

And you’re going to make each one count.

As the countdown for the first one starts, you drape your arms around his neck and smile because you want at least one nice, wholesome one. Looking at the screen, you can see Hop is smiling, too, which makes your stomach flip with affection... and then the picture’s taken and your sneaky idea comes back to you.

The five second count down starts again... and your arms move from around his neck and before he knows it, your hands are gripping the bottom of your shirt and you’re lifting it and your bra, exposing your breasts to the camera.

You feel him stiffen and, on the screen, you watch his mouth drop open as you beam, and the picture is taken.

You bite at your lower lip to try and stop your smirk as you keep your shirt raised, and as the countdown begins again, you shift and arch your back, pressing your ass against his cock. He grunts again, and almost without thinking, almost as if he can’t stop himself, his hands go to your breasts, covering them.

But instead of doing so to hide them, he grips and squeezes them. Your mouth now drops open in a breathy, quiet moan, and the camera captures it.

The countdown begins once more, and before you can think of your next pose, one of his hands suddenly moves up to your throat, gently gripping it, and he pulls you back against him, making your back arch further.

“Dirty fuckin’ girl...” he gravels into your ear as your lips remain parted, and you just can’t stop yourself from moving your ass against him.

He growls, his fingers tightening momentarily against your neck, and the picture is taken, capturing you both mid-moan.

The countdown starts, and he’s moving before you can, his hand dropping from your breast to grip at the hem of your skirt and he pulls it up, revealing your panties. Leaning your head back against his shoulder, your hands drop to grip at his thighs as you spread your legs to show the camera your panties.

“That’s it, baby...” he groans against your ear, and the camera captures you both.

You barely register the countdown starting for the last time as he rumbles, “Lift your fuckin’ legs...”

Lifting them instantly, you press your shoes against either side of the camera, and his hand slides down into your panties. Your eyes fall shut as his fingers slowly circle your already aching clit, and his other hand gently pulls and tugs at your nipple.

Biting hard at your lower lip to stifle a moan, his lips press against your cheek just in time for the camera to take the final picture.

Humming low in your throat, you swallow and lick your lips, opening your eyes and turning your head to look at him. He meets your gaze, his pupils wide, his fingers still playing with your clit, and a corner of his mouth lifts higher than the other.

“Maybe we could take a couple more, huh?”

Your own lips widen into a lazy, easy smirk as you rock your ass back against him.

“Mmh, I’d like that... But maybe we should collect the others before anyone sees...”

His lips brush against your ear as he groans through gritted teeth, and you feel his hard, straining cock against you.

“You don’t want people seein’ what a little slut you are, huh?”

His fingers glide down your slit just as you’re about to reply, your moan stealing your response.

“Shh, shh, shh...” he hushes you quietly, two finger tips dipping into your slick pussy. “... Here’s what’s gonna happen...” You have to make yourself focus so hard on what he’s saying as his fingers shallowly fuck you. “... You’re gonna put some more coins in the machine... And you’re gonna be nice and fuckin’ quiet as it takes pictures while you sit on my cock...”

Preempting your moan, knowing you so well, his other hand lifts to cover your mouth just in time, muffling it.

You feel his smirk against your neck. “... But you gotta be nice and quiet and quick... Don’t want anyone outside seein’ those pictures or hearin’ what a desperate little slut you are, do you?”

—

Reblogs and comments make my day in a way I can’t describe.

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Masterlist

Tagged: @herb-welch, @pascalispedro @davidkharboursex, @jobean12-blog, @warmbeardsandredwine, @mademoiselle-black, @scrunchinn, @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash, @divadinag, @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan, @deepsouth, @neganslittlebae, @ashphoenix105, @alahmorah, @daughterofthebrowncoats, @letsby, @tbkc, @kiwiphroot, @ashmely, @sistasarah-sallysaidso, @unicornsandgliiitter, @lucifer-in-leather, @heyjudeinthesky, @sleepylunarwolf, @ambeazyyy, @countryfire22, @sithlordslut, @mondsafari, @norcula, @earinafae, @beltzboys2015-blog, @jinxiejenna, @justsimplevicky, @hellosupernaturaldoctor, @ginasellsbooks, @dwarvenbunnyears, @vale0413, @mrslydiaholden, @kimberliinabox, @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly, @allylupin, @cant-shake-this-feeling-off, @the-bitch-gotham-deserves, @warriorqueen1991, @thesurestthing, @zuni21798, @quietlovelovely, @maddieisaboredable, @windinyoursnail, @happy-hopper, @yedi16, @negansdirtygirl22, @slipperywhenwetsstuff, @my-rosegold-soul @madkskillz, @im-not-great-at-making-up-names, @sergeantangel, @bitchinsinclair, @dewy-biitch, @focusonspn, @wearethebrokenones, @sarcasm-is-my-native-tounge, @thatprettymvthafvcka, @pulplorrd, @gifsbysimplysonia, @opalsandlacemain @geordiequeen, @gothackedalready, @ayatimascd, @missaudreyhorney, @chiefharbour, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @saltandroot

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#jim hopper x reader #chief jim hopper x reader #jim hopper #chief jim hopper #stranger things fic #my writing #flamehairedwritings

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irrelevantwriter · 5 years

Text

A Gift That Keeps On Giving

Pairing: Chief Jim Hopper x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, birthday fluff, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluids, female ejaculation, Hopper being an A1 gift giver

Word Count: 1.1K

Summary: It’s your birthday and Hopper is kind enough to come bearing gifts.

A/N: I’m baaaack! This was an extra special birthday request by @yourmajesty13. I hope you like it because I had a hell of a time writing it. It’s been a second since I’ve stretched my Hopper muse and she was thirsty AF. Happy belated birthday to @yourmajesty13! I hope you guys like it and let me know what you think. Enjoy and share with your friends!

*Masterlist in bio.

**********************

You shifted against the sheets as you felt the familiar sensation of warm breath and bearded lips skim across your bare shoulder. You could still feel yourself teetering on the edge of sleep, but your body was coming alive by the second. You pushed into the hard form behind you, your thighs instinctively clenching at the feel of firm flesh thrusting back. A moan flew past your lips, your breathing accelerating at the sensual dance. You could feel the wetness between your thighs gather and seep beyond your walls, the pulsing of your heartbeat now centered there.

“Baby…” A low rumble in your ear sent shivers down your naked spine. It was a sound that made your mind start to clear and warmth seep into your bones.

A large, calloused hand caressed your hip. You leaned into the touch, eager to be completely submerged in it. Your eyelids blinked open slowly as a finger circled your peaked nipples, a lazy smirk adorning your lips.

“It’s after midnight, baby girl.”

The words took a moment for you to comprehend, but as soon as you did, your smile grew wider. You snuggled further into the arms that surrounded you, allowing your body to finally respond. You grabbed at the hand at your hip, pulling it to your lips.

“What time is it?” You asked, voice still coated in slumber.

A bearded face buried itself in your neck, eliciting a throaty giggle.

“Fifteen after…it’s your birthday.”

You could feel the smile on his lips pressed into your neck, the love pouring from his words. You laughed as you were manhandled onto your back, the body now revealing a face.

Jim Hopper smirked down at you, his hair mused and blue eyes twinkling with mirth. He was a hulking form above you, his naked flesh pressed tightly against yours. You widened your legs, inviting him in before he’d even asked.

“You woke me up to tell me it’s my birthday?” You asked with a raised brow.

“I wanted to be the first one to give you a present.” He replied cheekily, eyes scanning your bare body. The sheets had shifted away and you took the moment to stretch, relishing the hunger reflected in his irises.

“Well, I can’t argue that. Is it jewelry?” You teased, wrapping your thighs around his hips.

He leaned down to suckle at your neck and you happily obliged him.

“Nah, it’s something a little more…organic.” He punctuated his statement with a bite to your flesh, licking the spot immediately after to soothe it.

Your laugh caught in your throat as he probed your entrance with his cock. You gripped his shoulders, feeling him coat himself in your essence.

“Someone’s ready for their gift.” He provoked lowly.

No words left your lips as he moved his mouth to your nipple, sucking with just the right amount of pressure to have you locking your legs around him. You could feel your entire lower half thrumming with heat and begging to be touched. Jim’s body was resting heavily atop yours, preventing you from easing the ache on your own.

You shifted against his body, creating some much needed friction. But he didn’t let you relish it for long.

His mouth was level with your throbbing pussy before you could react. His hands spread your legs wide, nearly cracking you in half to get to the center. His tongue lavished your walls while his lips sucked at your clit. His beard burned, but you welcomed the feeling. Your fingers threaded in his hair, tugging at the roots with untamed passion. Your back arched and your legs snapped closed, your mind at war with your body.

“No, no, baby girl…take it like I know you can.” Jim admonished as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

You whined when he thrust two fingers inside you, easily reaching that trigger inside you. Your whole body shook as you fell over the edge, your mind lost in the funnel of your pleasure.

“There we go.” He praised as you rode his hand, soaking the appendage and the bed.

“Fuck...”

You struggled to catch your breath. You’d barely recovered before he was on you, pumping himself with your spendings. He forced your tired legs open again, his chest already glistening with sweat. You gripped the sheets above your head as he entered you, his thickness making you gasp. There was a familiar burn that you’d grown so accustomed to when fucking with Jim Hopper. You pushed back, ready for more.

“Shit, baby.” He cursed, eyes transfixed on the way your body took him in.

You watched his face, feeling that knot in your stomach start to unravel again. His brow was furrowed in deep concentration, an almost angry glare on his features. The sight of him sweaty and massive while he ravaged you added to the blaze roaring through your veins.

“Jesus, Jim…” You groaned when he hit deep inside of you, his cock pushing you up the bed.

You could feel him swell, his cum beginning to drip along your tightening walls. His thrusts became more erratic, a sign he was close. You pinched your nipples while Jim’s thumb rubbed at your clit. You felt your walls spasm, pulling a growl from the man hunched over you.

“Cum, baby girl. Let me have it.”

You gasped when he changed his pace and slowed down, allowing you to feel everything. He thrust long and deep, savoring the feeling of your walls suffocating his cock.

“Oh shit, Jim…” You moaned as the inevitable end finally swept over you. You dug your nails into his skin, faintly hearing him hiss in response. His finger still worked madly at your clit, while his cock held still inside you. A gush of warmth released from within you, the approving grunts and groans of your man echoing throughout the bedroom.

He followed soon after, his cock spilling his seed and painting your walls. His fingers dug into the flesh of your hips as he emptied himself, making a concoction of both you and him.

“Fucking Christ, baby…” He panted as he collapsed on top of you.

You savored the warmth and weight of him, his cock still embedded inside of you. Your fingers danced along his back, a gesture you knew was a favorite of his.

You began to laugh when he nuzzled against your breasts, a kiss planted between them.

“Happy Birthday, baby.” He went to pull away, but you wrapped your limbs tightly around him to keep him in place.

“Stay.” You whispered. He indulged your request, knowing you weren’t ready to separate from him quite yet.

He raised up onto his arms, biceps strained with the action. He wordlessly kissed you, wrapping your tongue up in his.

“Thank you.” You said against his lips.

“Oh…” He grinned, that twinkle back in his eyes. “I’m far from done.”

Your laughter and moans bled into the early morning hours, Jim wishing you a happy birthday over and over again.

#jim hopper x you #chief jim hopper x you #jim hopper x reader #chief jim hopper x reader #jim hopper fanfiction #chief jim hopper fanfiction #jim hopper fic #chief jim hopper fic

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faeriecxrcle · 5 years

Text

hair pulling [7/31] -jim mason x reader

warnings: dom!reader, sub!jim, oral (female receiving), hair pulling, praise

There was something not many people knew about Jim...that in the dark of the night, when no one else was around, and it was just him and you...well he liked it rough.

The kind of rough that included dragging him wherever you wanted him, slapping his face, biting into his tan skin, leaving marks all over his body. It felt good, good to let himself go to you, he didn’t want to use anymore when you were taking control of him.

He found himself right now, kneeling on the floor, looking up at you with innocent eyes as you tug at his brown waves, directing him to the space between your thighs.

“That’s my good boy,” you say softly, and he preens under your words, eagerly running his tongue through your folds, sucking on your little bud of nerves.

Hearing your moans brings him to an entirely new level of satisfaction, his cheeks reddening, head growing fuzzy with every harsh tug of his hair, practically almost ripping them from the root.

Jim whines and presses his face as close as possible, nose squishing slightly as he moves his face side to side, batting his eyelashes up at you. He sees you smile down at him proudly and his cock throbs, and he moans.

“Fuck baby boy, you’re gonna make me cum,” you groan, biting your lip seductively down at him, before rolling your head back against the wall, “So good for me.”

He hums in agreement, sucking at your clit even harder, brushing his tongue over it, and he feels your thighs tightening around him, hips bucking, and urging him on, He feels your cum hit his tongue before you make any noise, your body tensing and trembling, almost cutting off his air, but he continues, working you through your release.

You heavily pant against the wall, and laugh softly, grinning down at him, running your nails through his hair, letting out a hiss, “That’s enough baby,” but he ignores you and continues lapping up your dripping cum, too lost in you.

Sharp nails press into his scalp, yanking at his hair and pulling him away, and he looks up at you desperately, “I-I’m sorry...you taste so good...”

You tug at his hair again and with your other hand you stroke his cheek, “Shh baby,” you kneel down in front of him and kiss him softly, “Misbehave again and I won’t let you cum,” you say into his mouth.

“I’ll be good,” he glances to your lips, needing another kiss.

A smirk spreads across your face, and you run your thumb over his bottom lip before kissing him again, pressing your tongue inside and he moans, feeling you palming at his cock.

******

tag list; @sammythankyou @mylippo @jimmlangdon @1-800-bitchcraft @lunarfawns @michael-langdon-appreciation @ladynuwanda @sacredlangdon @lovelylangdonx @duncvns

#jim mason x reader #jim mason #drabble #my writing #kinktober

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firemedicdiaz · 6 years

Text

You Make it Feel Like Christmas

Fandom: Star Trek AOS. Pairing: Montgomery Scott X Female Reader. Prompt: Tartan blankets, hot chocolate, and a surprise gift. Word Count: 2008. Rating: All ages. Genre: fluff. Summary: Scotty’s the kind of guy who can’t wait to see you open your present, and it might just be the best one you’ve ever gotten. Author’s Note: Written for the absolutely amazing @youre-on-a-starship for my 2017 Star Trek Holiday Fic Exchange! I hope you like it, darlin’!

“No!” You shriek, flouncing awkwardly through the knee-deep snow, feeling clumps of it fall into the tops of your boots and start to melt against your skin. “Stop! Mercy!”

Another snowball hits you square between the shoulders and you laugh, stooping to pick up a handful of the fluffy stuff. Squeezing it into a firm ball of your own, you turn around and huck the projectile at your target, grinning as it nails him right in the middle of the sternum. Turning to run off again before he can give chase, your foot catches a tree root beneath the snow and you yelp as you pitch toward the ground, landing in a snowbank and sending a spray of frosty flakes into the air around you.

“Are ye alrigh’, lassie?” Scotty asks as he runs up next to you and drops to his knees at your side.

You giggle and reach up to wipe some snow off of your face as you roll over onto your back. You stare up at him as snowflakes drift lazily down from the clouds overhead in the warm evening light from the nearby street lamps, giving you the feeling of being in a snow globe.

“I’m fine,” you assure him, feeling your face heat a little from the exertion.

“Jim would kill me if I broke his favorite ambassador,” Scotty says with a grimace.

You roll your eyes and shake your head, holding out a hand.

“I’m not made of glass,” you tease. “Now help me up; the snow’s soaking through my clothes!”

Scotty reaches out to take your hand, scrambling to his feet before helping you up. As you stand, he lets go of your hand and briskly brushes away the bits of snow clinging to your clothes, tickling you a little in the process.

“Stop it!” You squeak. “It’s fine!”

“It’s too late,” Scotty says grimly. “Yer soaked. We should get ye inside before ye catch cold. Dr. McCoy would have my head if I brought you back to the ship like tha’. I can just hear ‘im now. If tha’ virus gets intae the central air circulation we’ll have an epidemic on our hands. What were ye thinkin’, Mr. Scott?”

You can’t hold back peals of laughter at Scotty’s awful impression of Dr. McCoy. Reaching out, you take his hand and give it a tug, leading him toward the cottage, watching the smoke billow from the old, cobbled chimney. It takes the two of you less than a minute to reach the front door and Scotty ushers you inside, locking up behind himself and stepping closer to you.

“Let’s get ye out of these wet clothes,” he suggests, reaching for your toque.

You allow him to pull it off as you untie your scarf, draping it over a nearby hook on the wall. Scotty unbuttons your coat for you and helps you slip it off as you kick off your boots. Before long, you’re standing there in your soggy base layer, shivering now that the cold is catching up with you.

“Go on and change intae something dry,” Scotty instructs you. “I’ll stoke the fire and make ye something tae help warm ye up.”

“You’re the best!” You trill with a smile, stepping forward and pausing briefly to give him a peck on the cheek. “I won’t be long.”

You miss the faint blush that colors his cheeks as you walk away, and you don’t notice his gaze following you as you round the corner and head for your shared bedroom. All you can do is focus on not shivering too badly as you make your way to the bathroom, already pulling your damp sweater over your head.

It doesn’t take you very long to strip and throw your wet clothes into the hamper. You jump into a quick, hot shower to freshen up a little and then dry yourself off before slipping into your favorite pair of flannel pajamas and a soft, warm pair of slippers. You pause beside the bedroom window for a moment, drawing a snowman in the condensation that’s collected on the window with your finger with a smile.

You linger at the window for a moment, staring out at the falling snow, taking in the panorama that’s glistening with the light from a distant full moon. Taking a deep, contented breath, you eventually pull yourself away and flick off the light as you make your way toward the den. You can see flickering spots of light dancing on the walls in the room from down the hall and hear the crackling of logs in the fire place and it makes you feel wonderfully at home.

As you near the living room, the rich scent of melting chocolate hits your nose and you take a deep breath, letting it out in a contented sigh. The noise gets Scotty’s attention from across the room and he beams at you from where he’s carrying two mugs of steaming hot drinking chocolate toward the coffee table near the fire. You shuffle over, your slippers rasping against the hardwood, and grin at the sight of the whipped cream spirals peeking out over the tops of the mugs.

“Is this the real stuff?” You ask.

Scotty nods as he sets the mugs down and takes a seat on the couch, motioning for you to join him.

“Made with heavy cream an’ real Swiss chocolate,” he replies. “An’ a dash o’ cinnamon for a touch o’ Christmas cheer.”

“Well it smells delicious,” you say brightly, reaching for one of the mugs with a shiver as a draft sweeps through the cabin.

The trembling doesn’t escape Scotty’s notice and as you take your first careful sips of the piping hot drink, he gets to his feet and moves over to an old wooden chest nestled in the corner of the room. You watch him as he pulls what looks like a couple of large bolts of cloth out of the chest and realize quickly as he returns to your side that they’re actually blankets.

“It’s best we keep ye nice an’ cozy,” he explains as he shakes out one of the blankets before draping it over your shoulders.

He follows suit with the other, this time laying it across your lap as you snuggle back into the couch cushions with the hot chocolate in your hands. You curl the fingers of one hand tightly around the mug and reach out with the other, gently playing with the knotted frills at the edges of one of the blankets. You admire it’s classic simplicity, lazily tracing the green and white stripes on the red background.

“Is this your family tartan?” You ask softly.

Scotty smiles and shrugs.

“In a way,” he answers. “It’s the tartan o’ the Scott clan, but family tartans are an invented tradition tha’s a lot more recent than ye think. It doesnae quite work the way most o’ the world seems tae think it does.”

You surface from where you’d dipped your head to sip at the cocoa and reflect his grin.

“You’ll have to break down tartan history for me one day,” you suggest. “I’d love to know more.”

“I can regale ye with the tales o’ the tartan while we prepare Christmas dinner,” he suggests. “I think I can manage tae shorten it down tae a two, maybe three hour lesson…”

You roll your eyes and reach for one of the throw pillows behind you, tossing it playfully at Scotty as the jest and spirit warm you from within. The two of you giggle for a few moments before you’re able to quiet down and when you do, Scotty shifts closer to you on the sofa, his knees bumping yours as he reaches out to take your mug from your hands. You let him and watch as he sets it on the coffee table before reaching for your hands instead, squeezing them gently.

“I suppose this is as good a time as any,” he says slowly.

“For what?” You ask.

“To give ye yer gift,” he replies, slipping off of the couch, kneeling on the floor and reaching under the couch.

“We agreed on no gifts this year!” You exclaim. “Besides, Christmas isn’t for two more days!”

Scotty smiles up at you as he pulls something out from under the couch, keeping it out of sight.

“Ye cannae deny a man the joy o’ watchin’ the love o’ his life open a Christmas gift,” he says, feigning hurt.

Rolling your eyes, you shift around a bit, sitting up and swinging your legs over the edge of the couch so it’s easier for you to take whatever it is he’s hiding. Instead of the large sized box you were expecting, however, he produces a very small one in the palm of his hand, reaching to open it up with the other, exposing a beautiful, glimmering, intricate ring.

Your mouth drops open as you stare at it for a long moment, feeling your heart leap in your chest. Slowly peeling your eyes away from the diamond solitaire, you look up at Scotty, his expression mingled excited and anxious as he reaches out to take your hand with the one unoccupied by the box.

“This ring is a promise,” Scotty says slowly, affection and nervousness warring for dominance in his eyes. “It seems sort o’ grim to say ‘til death do us part considering some o’ the situations we find ourselves in in this line o’ duty, but I can promise that I will always be here for you. I will walk with you through anything, and I will love you to the end. For richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, and through anything else that comes – I just don’t want to jinx it with tha’ last bit.”

Tears well up in your eyes at his words, trapping starbursts of firelight in them and distorting your view. You reach up with your free, shaky hand to wipe them away as you nod furiously.

“Yes,” you whisper at first before gaining your resolve. “Yes!”

Scotty’s expression screws up into one of amusement and mild confusion.

“But I havnae even asked ye anything yet,” he points out.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” You encourage him.

With a renewed vigor, Scotty steels himself, sits up a little straighter, and meets your gaze with a confident, loving one of his own. Squeezing the hand of yours that he’s holding, he sets down the box and plucks the ring from its velvet cushion, holding it up and ready to slip onto your finger.

“Will ye marry me?” He asks softly.

“Yes, yes!” You exclaim. “Of course I will, Monty!”

You watch as he slides the ring onto your finger. It fits perfectly and sits gorgeously, scattering the flickering flames dancing in the nearby fireplace like a mirror ball. You lean in to examine it more closely for a moment, a sense of awe and unconditional love filling you.

Once the ring is in place, you quickly pull your hand out of Scotty’s grip and launch forward, crashing into him so hard the blankets slip off of you as you wrap your arms around him. Your inertia sends him off kilter and he topples to the floor with you astride his hips, grinning brightly as you lean in to kiss him.

“I want to have the wedding right here at the cabin,” you say in between brushes of your lips on his. “Just a small ceremony, you in your kilt, Jim officiating…”

Scotty laughs and nods.

“How could I ev’er deny ye anythin’?” He says softly. “O’course, hen.”

You smile and roll off of Scotty, straight onto the plush carpetl You shift and nestle in close to him, your hot chocolate long forgotten on the table as you wrap an arm around him, dreams of wedding bells dancing in your head.

“Merry Christmas, Monty,” you murmur, nuzzling into his neck.

“Merry Christmas, Alex,” he replies softly before tipping his head to claim your lips again.

Click here for my masterlist! Add yourself to my tag list!

#it's beginning to look a lot like Star Trek 2017 #Star Trek AOS #Montgomery Scott #reader insert #fanfiction #imagines #fluff #Christmas

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theresabookforthat · 6 years

Photo

Black History Month

“What a world this will be when human possibilities are freed, when we discover each other, when the stranger is no longer the potential criminal and the certain inferior!” – W. E. B. Du Bois

In honor of Black History Month in February, Penguin Random House has an array of beautiful and relevant classics, nonfiction and young readers’ books in the spotlight:

JEFFERSON'S DAUGHTERS: THREE SISTERS, WHITE AND BLACK, IN A YOUNG AMERICA by Catherine Kerrison

Thomas Jefferson fathered three girls: two white and free, one black and a slave. This book about Martha, Maria, and Harriet tells the fascinating story of their very different lives at Monticello and beyond, as daughters of one of our most brilliant and complicated Founding Fathers.

AN AFRICAN AMERICAN AND LATINX HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES by Paul Ortiz

Incisive and timely, An African American and Latinx History of the United States is a bottom-up history told from the viewpoint of African American and Latinx activists and revealing the radically different ways people of the diaspora addressed issues still plaguing the United States today.

BLACK NO MORE by George S. Schuyler, Introduction by Danzy Senna

The landmark comic satire that asks, “What would happen if all black people in America turned white?” In Black No More, George S. Schuyler attacks myths of white supremacy and racial purity and caricaturizes prominent African-American leaders like W. E. B. Du Bois, C. J. Walker, and Marcus Garvey. Black No More is a hilarious—and frightening—satire of America’s obsession with race.

MARCH by John Lewis, Andrew Aydin, Nate Powell

March is the groundbreaking graphic novel series and vivid first-hand account of Congressman John Lewis' lifelong struggle for civil and human rights, meditating in the modern age on the distance traveled since the days of Jim Crow and segregation. Rooted in Lewis' personal story, it also reflects on the highs and lows of the broader civil rights movement.

THE COLLECTED ESSAYS OF RALPH ELLISON by Ralph Ellison

Compiled, edited, and newly revised by Ralph Ellison’s literary executor, John F. Callahan, this Modern Library Paperback Classic includes posthumously discovered reviews, criticism, and interviews, as well as the essay collections “Shadow and Act” (1964) and “Going to the Territory” (1986). “Ralph Ellison,” wrote Stanley Crouch, “reached across race, religion, class and sex to make us all Americans.”

PASSING by Nella Larsen

Nella Larsen’s powerful, thrilling, and tragic tale about the fluidity of racial identity that continues to resonate today. A New York Times Editors’ Choice

THE SOULS OF BLACK FOLK (with "The Talented Tenth" and "The Souls of White Folk")

By W. E. B. Du Bois, Introduction by Ibram X. Kendi

The landmark book about being black in America, now in an expanded edition commemorating the 150th anniversary of W. E. B. Du Bois’s birth and featuring a new introduction by Ibram X. Kendi, the National Book Award–winning author of Stamped from the Beginning: The Definitive History of Racist Ideas in America.

THE BLACKER THE BERRY . . . by Wallace Thurman, Introduction by Allyson Hobbs

Written by an overlooked author of the Harlem Renaissance, who was described by Langston Hughes as “a strangely brilliant black boy, who had read everything, and whose critical mind could find something wrong with everything he read,” The Blacker the Berry is a vivid and disturbing portrait of a young woman who has been rejected by her own race, and a still-relevant reflection on the role that skin color plays in American society.

NOT WITHOUT LAUGHTER by Langston Hughes, Angela Flournoy

When this award-winning first novel was first published in 1930, Langston Hughes was already a luminary of the Harlem Renaissance scene, best known for his groundbreaking poetry. Not without Laughter, which he had begun drafting while studying at Lincoln University, established him as a gifted novelist as well as a beloved poet.

FOR YOUNGER READERS

I AM HARRIET TUBMAN by Brad Meltzer, Illustrated by Christopher Eliopoulos

Harriet Tubman’s heroic and pivotal role in the fight against slavery is the subject of the fourteenth picture book in this New York Times bestselling biography series

VOICES FROM THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD by Kay Winters; Illustrated by Larry Day

From the creators of Voices from the Oregon Trail and Colonial Voices, an unflinching story of two young runaway slaves on the Underground Railroad, told in their voices and those who helped and hindered them.

THE MIDDLE PASSAGE: WHITE SHIPS / BLACK CARGO by Tom Feelings

Experience Tom Feelings’s award-winning masterpiece, a classic of both children’s literature and art history that explores the horrors of the transatlantic slave trade in a series of extraordinary narrative paintings. This updated edition includes introductions from the artist Kadir Nelson; Tom Feelings’s son Kamili Feelings; and the scholar Sylviane A. Diouf, whose essay traces the Atlantic slave trade’s four centuries of brutality.

FROM THE HEART OF AFRICA: A BOOK OF WISDOM by Eric Walters

A collection of African wisdom gorgeously illustrated by artists from Ghana, South Africa, Zimbabwe, Canada, the United States and more. This book is a celebration of art, of community and of our common history.

BORN TO SWING: LIL HARDIN ARMSTRONG'S LIFE IN JAZZ by Mara Rockliff, Michele Wood

Award-winning author Mara Rockliff and acclaimed illustrator Michele Wood capture the story of “Hot Miss Lil” Hardin Armstrong, legendary jazz pianist, composer, and bandleader—and a female pioneer on the music stage.

For more on these titles visit Black History

#blackhistory #african-american history #penguin random house #there's a book for that #Lil Hardin Armstrong #congressman john lewis #w.e.b. du bois #langston hughes #Harriet Tubman #nella larsen #ralph ellison #wallace thurman #penguin classics #ballantine #beacon press #dial books

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jimsbeetroot · 2 months

Text

𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 ♱ 𝐣𝐢𝐦 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐭

words; 1.761

smut!

In all fairness, it's just a mask. A mask he allowed you to put on him before every show.

It's just a guitar, but he always played for you when you couldn't fall asleep at night.

And it’s just shoes— shoes that are normally huddled together in the hallway before you come home. It’s such a little thing that you shouldn’t be getting upset about, but it’s another thing on the list of things that you’d noticed about Jim's absence.

Things were so different in the house; it all felt so painfully empty. It was quiet, really quiet. So quiet that you sometimes felt as if you could hear the gentle thrumming of your heartbeat. You’d tried to fill the silence with music and the talking of the TV, but it didn't help to see his masked face on MTV every day.

And before you knew it, it was quiet again— quiet and empty.

An empty plate was still set at his place at the table. It went without saying; you missed him— a lot.

It was the first time in over six years that you’d been apart for this long.

Jim had gone on tour with Slipknot and for the first time - since you got together- you hadn't joined him.

It was Jim's call. The band was experiencing their ups and downs, and Jim didn't want you to be stuck with that for months. You understood.

The first couple of months, you thought you could handle it. It hadn’t felt much different then. But suddenly, it was as if anything that remotely reminded you of Jim would automatically set you off.

And it wasn’t like you hadn’t called, or at least tried to call — if you somehow managed to get the times correct— it was just not the same.

You sighed frustratedly, flinging a paintbrush at the canvas. It stroked a harsh angry black line on the creamy-white paper. You’d been trying to find inspiration for that fucking painting but it wasn’t coming along so easy.

All you could think of was that twenty-four hours was a pretty long time, and you weren’t sure if you could wait that long to see him.

“Y/N?”

Your head shot up from the painting as you heard a voice emerging from downstairs.

You shook off the thought.

Those stupid voices had been appearing in your head for over four months, and you were not about to let them fool you once more.

You tilted your head slightly to look at the canvas from another angle.

Maybe you could draw Jim. You could draw his face or his hands. Or maybe you could draw his dick. Yeah, you could draw his dick from memory with your eyes closed, it was almost embarrassing.

You scoffed, how desperate could you get?

“What’s this one called?”

Wow, you’re even hearing Jim talking now?

Fuck, what a loser.

Was it healthy to be so in love that you could hear your boyfriend's voice when he was somewhere on the other side of the world?

Surely, it couldn’t be.

“I know. A black beacon trying to blossom against the adversity of white?”

A familiar voice chuckled from behind you.

You frowned, not turning around. If it was your thoughts then why did it sound exactly like something Jim would say?

Shit, I really really have it bad.

“Really, not even a giggle? I’ve had a better reaction from my band mates—”

You heard a few steps coming closer.

“—and my girlfriend refuses to acknowledge my existence”

Okay.

You were sure that you heard a small creak from that floorboard as if someone purposely stepped on it.

Fuck, you weren’t not expecting anyone and the only person with a spare key is— was, well Jim. You glanced behind you slowly and cautiously, but before you knew it, you were stumbling up from the floor and jumping to wrap your legs around Jim.

“Fuck, I thought I was going crazy imagining your voice,” you murmured with your mouth against Jim's neck. He’s back. Your James. “God, I’ve missed you so much.”

You looked up at him, arms hooked around his neck.

He was exactly as he was when he’d left and the feeling of just being around him again overwhelmed you. You felt so completely whole again and the thought tugged at your heartstrings.

You held him tighter as your lips trembled and tears welled up in your eyes.

Jim frowned, setting you down gently on the dresser.

“Please don’t cry. You know it breaks my heart.”

“I know, I know,” You chuckled, trying to get rid of the traitorous tears that slid down your cheek.

"I just— I missed you so much. It’s just—”

Jim smiled widely as he flattened you up against his body again, forehead level with yours.

He placed a soft kiss on your temple

“I missed you too, babe, so fucking much.”

He raked his fingers through your hair.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that? I thought about you every single day. My little love all by herself, waiting for me.”

You grinned. God, you’d missed his voice and the way he talked, so relaxed that it never failed to excite you.

“I thought you were coming back tomorrow?”

“I left early,” Jim said, shifting your hair away from your neck. He gave it a soft peck.

“Really?” You were more than over the moon that he was here, but if he’d gotten in trouble over it, you’d feel horrible. “You didn’t have to.”

“Yes, I did. Corey got sick and we cancelled the last show. I had to come back to my baby.”

Your cheeks flushed what you could only imagine had been a bright rose-tinted colour.

"You’re too sweet,” you gushed.

“Sweet is overrated-” Jim started, flashing that smirk.

”-Now take off those cute little shorts and panties. I need to taste that sweet cunt of yours."

You didn’t need him telling you twice before you were tugging at the clothes, the cool breeze instantly blew at your bare core causing shivers down your spine. You’d been waiting for this moment ever since he’d left and your fingers had never quite succeeded in satisfying yourself the way Jim did— does.

Jim sunk to his knees. Fuck. He ran a finger over your slit, playing with the juices and he groaned as it spilled deliciously against the wood dresser.

He pulled your legs over his shoulders.

“God Y/N, I’ve missed you.”

Jim kissed the skin of your thigh right under where you wanted him the most.

“You’ve always had a sweet cunt, always drenched and ready for me.”

Jim parted your lips with his fingers, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit as he looked up at you with pure fascination.

“God Jim— I need your mouth,”

Jim smirked at the sheer desperation in your voice. He plunged a digit into your hole.

Shit, your walls clenched around his finger.

The moment which you’d been longing for, was finally here.

“Where baby? You have to be specific.”

“On me, fuck—” You whimpered as his fingers bent in and out of you.

You’d craved his contact for all these months and now, you had it, and overwhelming pleasure filled your body.

Your cheeks were hot and flustered and there was entirely too much going on. “I need your mouth on my cunt, Jim. I just need you…..please.”

Jim grunted, delving his tongue deep into you. He glanced up at you with a hum that vibrated through you.

“I— ’m so fucking close Jim—” You breathed heavily, trying to get your bearings correct, but his fingers were moving inside you with the same vigour his cock did.

Jim released your clit with a prominent pop. Your walls clenched tightly around his fingers with no particular pattern. He sunk his teeth into the flesh of your trembling thighs, sucking a blossoming bruising purple on the surface.

“Fuck—”

You couldn’t even begin to think properly as his lips trailed kisses up your body. You hadn’t come that hard in so long that your body was already weak from pleasure.

Jim smirked.

“Look at you, baby. So fucking spent—” Your face was slippery with sweat, strands of hair stuck to your forehead. “— and he hadn’t even fucked you yet. “You missed me that much?”

“Yes—” You answer, a shaky breath leaving your lips. “I missed you so fucking much. I missed your fingers—”

Jim lined himself with your entrance.

“What else?”

“I missed your cock as well. So, so much."

Jim grinned, sinking his cock inside you slowly, only stopping when he was right at the hilt, your walls sucking him in naturally and he moaned at the sensation.

It was pure ecstasy as he began to move, pulling himself out before slamming his hips back.

“Faster—” After so long, you needed him now, rough and hard. “—Please, you need to go faster, Jim”

“Hold on, darling,” Jim growled out. “I haven’t fucked you in so long and you’re so fucking tight.”

Jim laid his rough hands on your waist, clutching you tightly.

“You know I love you, right?”

You smiled lazily, your eyes fluttering closed. “Hmm, I love you too— a lot.”

Jim bit your collarbone and increased his pace, pounding into you deep again and again.

You dug your fingers into Jim's back, chanting his name so loud that the neighbours were probably aware that he was back by now. But you didn’t care.

Jim hooked one of your legs around his waist, hitting you at another angle and you mewed at the way he hit your sweet spot.

“God I— Fuck—”

“You want to come again, baby?” Jim asked, kissing your neck.

“Yes, yes please—”

“Then come for me baby,” He growled and it didn’t take long before you were jerking against him, screaming out his name.

He captured your lips in his, kissing you heatedly, teeth and tongue smashed as he swallowed your moans. He continued to thrust, deep and hard.

“Fuck baby— I’m gonna need you to clench around me.”

“I— I can’t,” You managed to choke out, blurring the lines between pain and pleasure.

“Yes, you can baby,” Jim said as your eyes pricked red with tears. “I got you.”

You could feel the fire pooling in your abdomen as you used all of your energy to clench around his cock.

Jim let out a long, loud moan as he finally came so hard.

“God— I’ve missed you,” You said.

Jim pulled himself out of you. “Hmm. I’ve missed you too.

#chris fehn #craig jones #james root #jim root x reader #jim root #corey taylor #joey jordison imagines #slipknotimagines #slipknot fanfic #slipknot x reader #slipknot photos #slipknot #jim root x female reader #jim root imagines #jim root imagine #joey jordison x reader #joey jordison

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anotherstartrekimagineblog · 7 years

Text

Show me Something - Writing Prompts #1, #4

Pairing: Kirk x Female Reader

Notes: Changed one of the prompts ever so slightly - if you’d like to request a small fic from the prompt list click here!

Peeling your eyes open was especially difficult - you and Jim had been up late again. You swung by his quarters last night to check up on him, he’d seemed particularly stressed on the bridge and as always, one thing lead to another.

Now his arm was wrapped tightly around you - the two of you were almost nose to nose and it gave you a chance to stare at his restful face. You noticed the faint lines that were beginning to show on his forehead from the stresses of his responsibility. You noticed the slight stubble that had begun to form - his facial hair had always grown back quickly. You saw the roots of his hair that always grows darker than the rest. You noticed the faint, tiny scar that was almost hidden by his eyebrow. That was from the last mission gone wrong - you remember having to restrain yourself from chastising him on his return.

That train of thought brought you crashing back down to reality. You’d been growing increasingly concerned for Jim. More than before you’d try to persuade him to not go on away missions - and if he did you’d spend all the time worrying about his return - though you wanted to brush it away as just the friendship between you - you’d known for a little while that you had feelings for your lover and Captain. Feelings that didn’t fit into the whole friends-with-benefits paradigm.

If it were anyone else you’d be upfront and honest - but this was famous womaniser Jim Kirk - his past record didn’t indicate he was looking for anything serious and so you kept yourself to yourself.

You’d already sworn when he left your room last week - that time would be the last - yet here you are, naked in his bed, pressed up against him and feeling more alone than you’ve ever felt before. You felt the emotion hitting you - feeling like you’d already been rejected before you even said anything, and you knew you had to go, this time forever. Sure you’d still work together and it would be a little hard at first, but eventually, your friendship might return to normal.

You slowly peeled off Jim’s arm from around your waist - attempting not to disturb him - but he stirred and you saw his eye that wasn’t pressed into the softness of the pillow flicker open. “Morning Gorgeous.” He said, his voice sleepy just like you were used to. “Where you off?”

You take a moment to reply as you slip on your underwear and uniform dress. “I’ve gotta go Jim.”

“Go where?” He says, moving his head and scowling in confusion.

“Just gotta, go. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t” You should’ve stayed to hear his response, but you straightened yourself up and slipped out of his quarters, rushing to your own as fast as you could.

The door to your quarters doesn’t even have the chance to slide shut once you arrive.

“Did I miss something?” He asks, brow furrowing.

“No Jim, I just don’t want to do this anymore. Now please, I’d like to be left alone.” You sigh.

“Do what? Us?” He’s clearly confused and both of you are getting more irritated.

“Yes, us!” You reply.

Jim’s tone gets shorter. “We had a good thing going, what the hell happened?”

“I’m sick of sleeping with you and pretending like it’s just not more than that. Like one day you’re gonna turn around and be my boyfriend, but that’s not gonna happen - you’re Jim Kirk. I was silly to ever fall for you and think you’d fall for me back” You snap, starting to get upset as you turn away from him.

“I have fallen for you, please, just give me a chance, I don’t want to lose you.” He says as he walks over to you and places a hand on your shoulder. “I won’t lose you. I had no idea you felt the same. You think I let every one of my dates stay over in my quarters? Fuss over me when I get hurt on an away mission? I barely even let Bones look after me.”

“I guess that’s true.” You smile as you turn to face him and take his hands in yours.

“So, (Y/N), my girlfriend. I think that has a nice ring to it.” He says with a wink.

#jim kirk x reader #jim kirk imagine #jim kirk reader insert #james kirk x reader #james kirk imagine #james kirk reader insert #star trek reader insert #star trek imagine #Star Trek Fanfiction #star trek x reader #jim kirk

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writersindigestion · 7 years

Text

teased | edward nygma x reader

“was it even regret, anymore?”

reader gender: female

words: 4362

warnings: trauma, substance abuse, paranoia, PTSD, minor violence, minor blood, Edward is still Mean and Green

notes: hey there again, everyone. once more - for your ease of reading, i’ve split this chapter into another two parts… because it was almost at 10,000 words. :////’ sorry i suck so much. but i’m nearing the end… i think. expect another part within the next week or so.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FIVE | PART SIX also available on: AO3

For [Y/N], personally, the following weeks were filled with inactivity. She continued on her previous schedule as she’d been doing since her friend was killed, only making sure to at least sometimes talk with the people outside of her apartment. There were some good films that she saw in theatre, though she spent the whole time snogging her girlfriend, and had only assumed that the movies were “good”. There were some sports games she cheered on, some museums she visited, some books she rented - but nothing felt normal. The manic woman was beginning to realize that she’d likely never feel that way again.

More beers, more wine, more snakes at her spine, and the crucifix ever-taunting her from across the street.

For Gotham, however, the weeks were bigger than they’d been in recent history. They saw the escape of the Arkham monsters (Nygma not included, thank the Lord), they saw the rise of Fish Mooney’s escapees (undead or otherwise), and, most importantly, the catapulting of Oswald Cobblepot to the mayoral throne.

[Y/N] had long since chosen to remain oblivious to the goings-on in her hometown, having spent an exorbitant amount of time with the news droning on in her empty headspace - politics, theft, murder, mass homicide, life-threatening magicians and several attempts at axing Jim Gordon and Bruce Wayne. Then there was Theo Galavan - even for a criminal, she didn’t like him. Had she not been too afraid to leave the house, she wouldn’t have voted for him. Not that it mattered, since no one else had been alive to challenge him.

Little did she know, her ignorance would be her downfall.

“Babe, you’ve got a letter!” Chryssie called from across the apartment, sauntering into sight with silky, pink pajamas floating around her form.

[Y/N] leaned backwards to peer over the cushy loveseat she sat on, her form having been curled up over a popular sci-fi novel. She dogeared the corner of the page and set the book down on the coffee table, her lips parting slightly in surprise. “Really? Who’s it from? Not many people have gotten the memo about my new address.”

The envelope was heavy - clearly a fancy type of cardstock. She glanced over the off-white surface, her eyes catching the tiny, decorative speckles that blended into the background like an impressionist painting. The return address read ‘City Hall’.

“Ugh, government letters,” [Y/N] growled, making her girlfriend turn towards her.

The larger woman tutted, then chuckled, reaching for a pot to boil pasta in. “You probably have jury duty. Aren’t you special, babe?”

Her groans of disdain intensified, but she sliced delicately into the package, pulling out the paper that rested inside. Cramped fingers unfolded the letter, and she cleared her throat dramatically,

“Dear valued citizen,

You have been invited to a celebration of Mayor Cobblepot’s victory in the recent elections. We have hand-selected a number of individuals based on their contributions to Gotham City. The mayor’s home welcomes you to join us this following Sunday, provided this message reaches you safely. It would be an honor to have you.

No reply is needed, and plus-ones are accepted.

Warmly,

Oswald Cobblepot & Team”.

The pair couldn’t help but laugh at the card, practically bent in half with hysteria.

Chrysanthemum broke through her giggles first, “No offense, [Y/N], but what have you ever done to help this city?”

The seated woman spoke between wheezes, “Well, I was a member of the safety patrol in Junior High - clearly worthy of a Nobel Peace Prize.”

“You sure kept those hallways safe.”

“Hey! That was an important job! Think of all the collisions I stopped.”

“God forbid those clumsy preteens gently bump into each other.”

[Y/N] grew facetiously irate, “I prevented FATALITIES - I wore a BADGE! And a NEON VEST!”

Chrysanthemum paused for a moment before commenting, “Seriously, though, you probably got an invite for your work at the GCPD.”

Her partner rolled her eyes, tossing the letter onto the coffee table. “Oh yeah - my ‘work’ - delivering mochas.”

“Hey, now… We are only half as strong as our errand boys!” Chryssie exclaimed, stirring a spoon around in the pot of noodles that she’d nearly forgotten. “So what dress should I wear?”

The other woman sputtered, “W-What? I don’t want to go to this ‘party’! What if they make me wear a button? It probably wouldn’t even match my outfit. Not to mention…” She hesitated, grabbing the envelope again, pointing to the included address, “This guy isn’t celebrating in City Hall - he is partying in his house, which I’m positive is filled with breakables!”

“They need a safety patroller to stop guests from running into their precious valuables.”

“A neon vest really won’t match with anything I own…”

And so the couple decided to attend the celebration - well, one did, and the other begrudgingly followed.

The mayor’s mansion was indeed grand, and filled with fragile objects. [Y/N] kept her arms locked close to her body, and her body away from the walls - it would be just her luck to accidentally break something.

Both women wore black dresses (“In case either of us needs to don that sacred vest.”), their skirts coming to rest just above the knee, with the rest of the bodice fitted to their personal shapes and tastes. [Y/N]’s outfit, while beautiful, was slightly more conservative than her partner’s. She wondered, anxiously, if it made her appear insecure.

Of course, nobody would think anything of it, but her paranoia was potent, personal, and positively irrational.

She kept a stiff arm locked into the larger woman’s, content to let herself be dragged around, as if Chryssie was the one invited in the first place. Bodies swam gracefully between each other, every person grinning like they were actually excited to be there - [Y/N] didn’t believe it.

After awhile of being at the party, she felt comfortable enough to unwind from her girlfriend and mingle with the unfamiliar faces.

Where were the people she knew? If other precinct employees weren’t there - why was the former secretary - who left without warning and refused to answer any and all calls about her absence - invited?

The neurosis settled in full-force this time, and her shaking hand found its way back to the crook of her lover’s right elbow. Between mingling, she whispered these misgivings frantically in Chrysanthemum’s ear, but only got scoffs in return.

Frustrated, she kept her further concerns bottled up, and neglected to speak to most of the people they were now passing by.

Eventually, the feedback of a microphone drew the party-goers’ attention to the front of the room. [Y/N]’s anxiety was somewhat soothed at the hush that fell over the crowd, her senses no longer being assaulted by unrelenting stimuli. A deep breath in, and back out - she was going to get through this.

A man limped up to the mic stand following an over-exuberant introduction from a colleague. He was rather short, for the typical grown male, and had the haircut of someone far too deep into their grunge phase. His grin was proud, bordering on arrogant, but she’d already seen him an innumerable amount of times. Hard to forget the face of a known criminal and gangster when he had shown up so frequently at her place of employment.

Oswald greeted his guests, offering a sincere welcome, “Thank you all for coming - it means the world to me that I have your support…”

[Y/N] tuned out his babbling, staring politely in his direction so as to feign alertness. Absentmindedly, she noted him talking about his mother, his campaign team, and those who voted for him. She swirled the champagne around in her glass, gaze now drawn to the bubbly drink as opposed to the new mayor. Yeah, yeah - when is the buffet open? I’m starving.

“… And most of all, I want to thank my chief of staff, Edward Nygma, for believing in me, especially when it felt like no one else would. Without his faith - none of this would have been possible.”

But she didn’t hear anything past the moment when the mayor mentioned his name. Suddenly petrified, [Y/N] bent to the floor, staying on her feet as she pretended to search for an earring. Chrysanthemum had already realized the issue, crouching next to her as well. Applause erupted around them, and the larger woman grasped her friend’s hand tightly, pulling her away from the noise, their escape hidden under the cover of the crowd.

[Y/N] broke into a near-run as soon as they were out of the room. Chryssie almost had to jog to keep up with her partner, not wanting to risk the two of them being separated. Especially when she knew what was coming.

With the other woman unaware, Chrysanthemum held her breath, waiting on the edge of her seat as they finally reached the exit.

“Isn’t it a little early to be fleeing the scene? We haven’t even served dinner yet.”

[Y/N] didn’t bother turning around, she immediately placed her hand on the doorknob, twisting it with purpose. And it moved - she wasn’t locked out at all, but her girlfriend’s hand on hers rooted her inside the building. Panicked, she cast an alarmed look at Chryssie, seriously debating whether or not she wanted to physically attack her partner, but the look in the other woman’s eyes stopped her from acting.

She could see the devil in her peripherals, but she’d already made up her mind that if she didn’t look directly at him, maybe he’d cease to exist. Instead, her gaze bore deeply into her friend’s, finding grief, finding guilt, finding fear where she thought she’d find malice. Immediate remorse flooded through her - there was no way Chrysanthemum was doing this on purpose. She was no traitor.

What the fuck did he do to her?

Swallowing thickly, [Y/N] questioned her lover, “Can you tell me what’s going on? Did he hurt you?”

Chryssie’s face screwed up - silent, tense tears leaking down her cheeks. She tugged the smaller woman closer, grasping now with both hands. Her voice was quieter than feathers fluttering to the floor, “He didn’t hurt me… He said he didn’t care about me.” The couple’s eyes locked together. “But that if I cooperated, he wouldn’t hurt you.”

[Y/N]’s stomach dropped, and her palms twitched with an ugly anticipation. “You shouldn’t have worried about me. You should’ve taken care of yourself. I would never live it down if something happened to you. Maybe we could’ve gotten away.”

“You know we wouldn’t get away. We wouldn’t make it outside of the city before he found us.”

“We could have tried, Chrysanthemum! We could have tried! He’s not omnipotent-”

“He might as well be - what if we-”

Edward Nygma interjected himself back into the conversation, now standing only inches away from the couple. He fiddled with his cufflinks, giving a calculating, close-lipped smile to the both of them before he spoke, “If you two are done bickering, I have some things to attend to.” His large hand pressed against Chryssie’s shoulder, easily creating distance between the lovers. She looked confused, afraid - he enjoyed it. Always a pleasure to present dilemma to the simple-minded.

[Y/N] made a grab for her friend’s hands again, but was cut off from her side - a criminally tall man instead taking her outstretched arms. She wouldn’t look at him. She couldn’t look at him. All she saw was the green of his suit tie, and even that seemed to dissolve under the weight of her renewed trauma and overall dissociation.

“Wait, wait - what the hell are you doing?” Chrysanthemum called, trailing after the murderer as he pulled her girlfriend into a separate room, “You said you wouldn’t hurt her. Are you a liar and a crook?”

For just a moment, she had his attention, and he turned to her with a flourish, hands still tugging the stumbling [Y/N] along. Edward’s smile was dazzling as he quipped, “Naturally.”

Chryssie was removed from the mayor’s grounds shortly afterward, not being given the chance to get a word in edgewise. She caught her best friend’s gaze before a closed door blocked her from sight. Never before had she seen someone more shell-shocked in her lifetime, and she never would again. After hours of waiting outside the mansion gates, she hailed a taxi, choosing to return home after the guards threatened to call the cops on her.

[Y/N] could only wish that she were being arrested. The hard, unforgiving seat of a police car would have been a welcome comfort against the capture of Nygma.

“I honestly hadn’t expected you to run away so quickly after that day. Smart of you, though - I was a little busy with some things anyways,” Ed started, releasing one of her wrists in favor of sending a short text message. He held up a finger for a moment, as if telling her to quell her thoughts until he was finished typing.

She didn’t have any thoughts. She didn’t have any senses. Everything seemed just a little too far away from where she was standing. All she saw, all she could concentrate on was red - and it was probably her own blood, as opposed to his, that was painted across her psyche.

Long fingers folded the phone closed, placing it in his left pocket with an uncanny amount of grace. He ran a thumb along the inside of [Y/N]’s arm, humming idly.

They came to a stalemate, neither bringing forth any conversation for the sake of letting the other suffer. Unfortunately, for the smaller of the two, Edward had all the power in the situation, and he intended to get what he wanted. He always got what he wanted.

She let out a yelp, trying to pull her wrist out of his grasp as a dull thumbnail started digging angry, red circles into her skin. Her failed attempt at release only served to make his scratching all the more painful, his nail dragging down the length of her forearm as she closed her free hand around his, grabbing his middle finger and yanking it backwards until it nearly touched his carpals.

Ed let her go, his finger on the brink of breaking, and took a surprised step backwards at her sudden display of violence. He looked her up and down - this was not the same woman he left in the precinct basement, crying over her dead friend and chained to some leaky pipes. She had vanished to a far corner of the closed room, soothing the angry marks on her arm like a feral cat, licking its wounds.

[Y/N]’s lips curled back over her teeth, and she snarled as she spoke to him, “You should have died in Arkham, you evil, conniving bastard.” Her breaths came in heavy pants, scraping past her teeth so sharply that the nerves behind her enamel started to ache. “You deserve to suffer for the rest of your life, and then you should be brought back from the dead so you can suffer all over again.”

Something dark - darker than usual - passed through his scrutinizing, brown eyes. She saw the tightness in his jaw, the flexing in his neck. For a second, her fear and rage-induced bravery wavered, but she swallowed, a flagrant attempt at steeling herself against Edward.

But he didn’t advance on her, allowing the frightened woman her space, if only to help push her guard down. He kept himself in check, positive that the end would justify the means.

“I’ll allow you that one. I’m sure that you aren’t happy to see me,” He deflected, settling the topic back on [Y/N], “So how are you? It’s been quite a long time since we last met.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she took another step backwards, hands reaching out behind her for any unseen obstacles. “I think you know how I’ve been, Nygma.”

Ed clicked his tongue at her indignance, flashing a smile that hardly reached his cold, dead eyes. “Now, how are we going to understand one another if you won’t communicate with me. We didn’t keep in touch - how would I know what’s been going on in your life?”

“Because you’re smart. You know you’re smart. I know you’re smart,” She snapped, “What good does it do to tell someone what they already know?”

Another smile - this time twice as unfeeling, as unforgiving. “Humor me.”

It didn’t sound like an invitation. Everything Edward said sounded like an ultimatum. She didn’t know what she’d be sacrificing if she refused to play his games. What were the rules? How did she participate if she didn’t know what the penalties and rewards were? Her head hurt.

“I’ve been terrible,” [Y/N] started, words clipped and enunciated, but she thought better of her decision to enlighten him, “I haven’t been sleeping well. There is a draft in my bedroom.”

She watched him nod, his face feigning grief, feigning sympathy. He’d gotten his hair cut since going to prison - the shaved sides and voluminous top made his cheekbones all-the-more severe, his features all-the-more sharp. Ed had seemingly shed his geeky exterior in favor of a more threatening, business-like persona. It was sensible, she supposed, being that he was the mayor’s chief of staff - but it was much easier to have courage against a mathlete than a mobster. The woman found herself missing the days when she got to be the bully. If she’d known how events would pan out, perhaps she would’ve been meaner to him.

Begrudgingly, she wondered if being nice would’ve helped at all. It was likely that any kindness shown towards him would’ve resulted in a different, more co-dependent type of fixation.

He’s a murderer, a terrorist, a liar, a cheat, a thief, a hypocrite, a traitor, an abuser - there is no need to feel sorry for him, not even in retrospect.

He hummed, drawing the attention of his verbal opponent. “How tragic,” Edward mocked, his feet beginning to creep in her direction, “Sleep is very important to the human body, Miss [L/N]. Perhaps you need better insulation in your home? I could get you some help with that.”

“I’m quite alright, thank you. My girlfriend and I simply wear a few more layers,” [Y/N] vibrated, leaning away from him, but not wanting to box herself in a corner again.

He stopped in his forward assault about two feet in front of her. “Ah - yes, your girlfriend. You know you’re lucky, right?”

She refused to feed into his taunting, angry with herself for even mentioning Chryssie. “Yes. Very lucky. She’s terrific.”

“Chrysanthemum - a lovely name for a lovely person,” Ed drawled, caring little whether or not this woman played into his words, “She looked at her most lovely when she was begging for your life.”

He’d barely gotten his taunt through before [Y/N] launched herself at him, catching the lanky man around the waist and toppling the both of them. She reacted far quicker than he did, taking his shock as an opportunity force her palm into the underside of his nose. The man beneath her let out a cry of pain, and god did she relish that sound. It was even better the second time, when she closed both of her fists and smashed them down across the middle of his face.

He was reeling from the affliction, but thought rapidly, using her lack of grip to throw the woman off of him. This was not going as he had planned. Edward had to regain control of the situation before she ruined his plot any further. The towering male clambered back to his feet, hand pressed against his visage to soothe the aching.

[Y/N] had found footing long before he had, and used the discrepancy to put distance between them once more. “Did that hurt, you fucking moron?“ She growled, spit flying from her lips, cheeks flushed a deep shade of maroon, “I’ve seen middle-schoolers with more guts than you.”

His eyes narrowed, and he let go of his nose in a fit of egotism that he couldn’t quite catch - not that he’d ever been good at that. He sniffed, reaching for his pocket handkerchief, “Impressive, Miss [L/N], I must say that I’ve been caught quite off guard. Are you legally prepared to deal with me when I press charges against you?” Nimble fingers folded the kerchief long-ways, and he dabbed lightly at the blood that dripped from his nostrils. “I imagine your wallet isn't very well-lined from selling coffee.”

She didn’t flinch at his threats. “Go ahead - sue me. Send me to prison. I dare you,” [Y/N] barked, her hands still balled into tight, angry fists, “The only place I can think of that would keep me safer from you is death.”

“Death is not a place - it is a state of being.” Ed was then quiet for a moment, his head already leaps and bounds ahead of the woman. She was brave, yes, but she was still an idiot. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?” He quipped, his rhetoric short as he started circling around to his opponent’s side.

She mirrored him, stalking in the opposite direction to avoid letting him get too close. Her palms were beginning to sweat. Maybe she’d managed to land a good punch, but she would never be able to match him in an intellectual battle. He underestimated her - she knew that - and it was probably the only advantage she had against him.

His long legs stopped in their assault, and he changed directions, heading towards the door that they’d only just entered through. With a twist of the knob, it was open, and he stepped to the side, gesturing for her to exit.

[Y/N] squinted at him. “What the hell are you doing?”

Edward didn’t hesitate to answer. “You’re free to go.”

Her mind shut down entirely, her fists uncurled, her face unscrewed. “I’m free to go?”

Momentarily, his indifferent expression darkened. “Don’t make me repeat myself - I didn’t stutter.”

“Just what are you playing at? What am I going to find if I go out there?” Contrary to his offer of escape, she moved further away from Ed, his sudden complacence painfully suspicious.

“I’m not playing at anything. You want to leave, and I’m offering you a chance to leave.”

“That’s a load of bullshit - we both know it. What reason do I have to trust you?”

He smiled, his face lacking warmth almost entirely. In fact, the man’s personality seemed encapsulated in sub-zero temperatures. “I’m not asking for your trust, Miss [L/N], it’s something I simply don’t require…” Brown eyes settled idly on their prey, an unfriendly sort-of mirth lacing their irises. “What I’m asking is for an unwelcome woman to leave the mayor’s home.”

She bristled, but didn’t bother to test his patience any longer. Though reluctant, her unsteady legs drew past the hateful, worthless man, and she heard him follow her out of the room.

He watched her as she stiffly made her way down the front steps, [Y/N]’s entire body alight with anxiety. She paused for a moment, taking a glance backwards at him, and Edward tilted his head in acknowledgement. “I’ll be seeing you, Miss.”

Her steps quickened after his goodbye, and she had to hold back tears until she was off the property.

Chrysanthemum didn’t let go of her for a second that night, and in the following couple of weeks, she watched her companion deteriorate faster than she had after Kristen’s death.

[Y/N] quit her job. She canceled her gym membership. She gave away and donated practically all of her belongings, no matter their worth, not matter their sentimentality. She stopped speaking with friends. She stopped speaking with neighbors. She stopped leaving the apartment. She stopped communicating with her girlfriend. She stopped smiling. It hardly seemed like she breathed anymore, and she definitely didn’t sleep.

When slumber took even a moment to grace her eyelids, all she saw was Edward Nygma. It was a nightmare that she could neither wake from, nor rest from.

The familiar shape of a beer bottle found its way back into her limp grip, her body conforming into the chair that she’d spent so many long days rotting in. Tired eyes found their way back to the Catholics wandering in and out of the cathedral. And the will to live lost its way back to her heart.

She was exhausted in her lethargy. All she did was think - of ways to escape, of ways to beat him, of ways to recover, of ways to get help. There was an outright guarantee that if she even attempted to contact the police, it could mean death for the woman she loved - [Y/N] didn’t have to ask Nygma to figure that out. He meant to see her again. No one could offer sanctuary from a man that seemed to have buried his grubby hands in every niche of Gotham City. So quickly he’d managed it, too.

A happy family walked out of the doors to the church, smiles on their faces and their heads in the clouds. Inwardly, she asked herself if even God himself could save her from Ed’s disgusting, bruising clutches.

She asked herself again.

Her tongue darted out to run across chapped lips, and she set the beer bottle on the side table, rising slowly from her seat. Bare feet brought her to meet the broad face of the packed, homey-looking bookshelf. Her fingers skimmed the bindings, looking for something particular. After several moments of searching, she felt it - a worn, faux-leather covering, a little handle sticking out for ease of transport. She pulled the book from its space in the collection, warming her palm over the canvas as she brought it back to her seat, opening the aged pages with care.

Her eyes did not comprehend anything they were reading, she was so wrapped up in her thoughts. This was her chance. Maybe she could get away with this - ’God-willing’.

What. The. Fuck? Ed. You’re a prick. And… You look like a string bean. >://’ Anyways - let me know if you enjoyed this part! I’ve been working real hard on this story! Once again - I am taking requests, and would probably cry if you left me some. Also - still interested in a beta reader to help me check for continuity and grammar, ect… Love y’all. - writersindigestion

#edward nygma x reader #gotham imagine #edward nygma fanfiction #edward nygma smut #edward nygma #Cory Michael Smith #the riddler #text #mine #dc fanfiction #dc imagine #gotham fanfiction #the riddler x reader #the riddler x you #ed nygma x you #ed nygma x reader #ed nygma fanfiction #ed nygma smut

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creativelitlover · 6 years

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Hey lovely bookworms, as promised I have a special blog post… An Author Interview with the amazing M.A Phipps (Molly Phipps). Author of Ultraxenopia and Type X, A Project W.A.R Novel.

Upon discovering the brilliant Ultraxenopia, and being submerged in a world of terrorism and oppression, following Wynter Reeves on her gruelling journey of suspense and discovery.

My dreams have been haunted and my mind lost, obsessing over what will happen next! Hugely anticipating Type X… Which I’m so close to devouring! So look out for more fan art and a review.

Anyway, here is what Molly had to say, as she kindly answered all of my questions. Enjoy. ☺️

Meet Molly Phipps. 💜

“As I’m sure you’ve already gathered, my name is M. A. Phipps, and I’m an American fiction author living in the UK. From the time I was a small child, I remember having a passion for literature, but it went so much further than the normal day-to-day dreams we tend to have as kids. Sure, there were moments when I wanted to be an astronaut or a ballerina (or yes, even a wizard), but the one thing that never left my mind was how much I loved books and how amazing it would feel to see my name on the cover of something I had written. It’s been a handful of years since I began seriously writing fiction, and now I can finally say that dream has become a reality. On the more personal side of things, I’m the wife of a hunky Brit and also a mother to one rambunctious (but adorable) little girl. I also have an equally crazy Jack Russell Terrier named Milo. Although I was raised in the US, I’ve lived in the UK for the better part of a decade now. I’m a big time movie buff, and I love comparing books to their film counterparts. You will never hear me say, “BUT THAT WASN’T IN THE BOOK!” probably because film studies was a huge part of my major at college. Oh, and I feel it needs to be said that I am quite possibly the biggest Lord of the Rings nerd alive. In regards to my writing, I want to explore every genre of fiction possible. I want to test myself, explore the farthest reaches of my imagination, and above all, share my stories with the world.”

Interview questions:

1. If you get my emotions running wild, then for me, you’ve nailed it! A book should make you cry, laugh and even curse! And I’m definitely guilty of all of the above. Your book, Ultraxenopia hit my emotional levels to the maximum… so I was wondering, when writing these amazing, nail-biting moments, do you too, have your emotions whacked up high?

You know, it’s been a while since I actually wrote Ultraxenopia (I wrote it back in 2014), so I can’t really remember what I was feeling at the time. Saying that, what I love about writing first person perspective is you really get to dive into the character’s head and allow yourself to feel what they’re feeling. So yeah, I suppose my emotions do get whacked up a bit when writing.

2. Speaking of scenes, I’m dying to know, what was your favourite scene? And did you struggle with it or did it come easy?

As grim as it sounds, I really loved writing the torture scenes during Wynter’s time at the DSD. She has this amazing sort of “Dr. Frankenstein and his monster” relationship with Dr. Richter that I just find so interesting to explore.

What’s really fascinating to me is that I’ve actually had people message me and say they could really feel Wynter’s pain in those scenes, as if I’ve experienced that sort of agony to allow me to write it so believably. It never occurred to me before that, but I’ve struggled with a few physical disabilities in my life that have caused me quite a severe amount of pain and hardship, so I suppose that’s why those scenes were so easy for me to convey. I could get in Wynter’s head and remember what that pain felt like—even if the actual cause for mine was way different.

3. I believe inspiration for writing is everywhere, but was there anything in particular that inspired you to write this story?

There were a lot of inspirations for the story in Project W. A. R., many of which have roots in history. The DSD, for example, was inspired by Unit 731 which was an experimental weapons testing unit of the Japanese army based in China during WWII. Long story short, they tested biological weapons on human subjects, resulting in the deaths of approximately 3,000 people at that camp alone and a further 300,000 from subsequent use of the weapons they created thanks to human experimentation.

The State itself actually came about from two inspirations. When we’re first introduced to Wynter’s world, it’s very much your sort of technologically advanced version of the totalitarian regime of North Korea. Its origins, however, hold more similarities to how Nazi Germany operated, which readers will get a glimpse of in the sequel, Type X.

Aside from the grim stuff, I based Jenner on Jim Sturgess because I just love him and he has the sweetest smile.

4. One of the hardest part to read was when they were testing on Wynter- I was so worried about her, I was full on going crazy, shouting at the Book, desperately wanting her to punch Richter right in the face! I imagine it would be a hard scene to write, it was so emotional. So what was the hardest scene to write?

I actually found the torture scenes to be among the easiest to write (as creepy as that is). The scenes I struggle with tend to be the scenes of long dialogue—not the actual dialogue itself, but all the filler (ie. what everyone is doing between the dialogue). Saying that, I might be projecting a bit with my latest WIP and how gruelling that often was to write. I don’t remember there being any particularly difficult scenes to finish in either Ultraxenopia or Type X.

5. As much as I hate , I also love Dr Richter… you have written the perfect bad guy in my opinion. He as a past that you can’t help but feel for, he is creepy and cute. He is ruthless and cunning and I don’t think there is a limit to what he is capable of… so which do you prefer to write, the villain or the hero?

I’ll admit, I really do enjoy writing villains. I think I have a knack for them and there’s just something so fun about writing a character who has zero reservations and is willing to do just about anything to get what they’re after. The hero usually has to show a bit more emotional restraint whereas with the villain, you can cut loose a little. I enjoy writing both, but I think I find villains a bit easier to write overall.

6. The build up of romance in your book was perfect. I knew exactly why they’d fallen for each other. You truly gave me the sense of love building bit by bit watching them grow together, I loved it so much. That be big said, do you prefer to write romance or read it?

This is tricky because despite having the emotional range of a teaspoon, I am a bit of a romantic at heart. I do love me some good old-fashioned romance, but I also find a lot of it (especially in YA) to be a bit…over the top? I can’t really handle the super cheesy lines some of these popular characters come out with—I much prefer realistic romance where characters aren’t spouting these very elaborate old-timey sonnets every five seconds, which I think is why I tend to always incorporate romance into my work, so I can write the sort of romance I like personally. Saying that, I do love getting worked up over my favorite ships!

7. You have created some truly amazing characters, I have to say my favourite has to be Jenner. Do you have a method on creating them?

Not particularly. Characters come to me very easily, I barely have to work at it. I think a huge part of it is because I have a very visual brain (so I see stuff in pictures instead of words) so I’m able to play out my stories like a movie in my head. I also draw inspiration from so many things that the characters tend to just materialize without me needing to force it.

8. Are you an organised writer or is your work space chaos?

I am definitely an organized writer. I need to make outlines and have playlists. If I don’t, then it’s chaotic. I didn’t make proper outlines or playlists for my current work in progress, and it took me over a year to finish writing because of it. I know what works for me, I just need to make sure I actually do it!

9. I was wondering, I like to listen to music while I write, I actually have different playlist for writing different scenes, hehe. Do you need quiet or do you listen to music when writing too?

I absolutely have to listen to music while I write, but not just any music. It has to be instrumental/orchestral and it has to feel like the scene I’m writing (which is why my playlists are sometimes very strange LOL). I tend to make a playlist with the same number of songs as chapters in the book I’m working on so there will be a song correlating to each chapter. I then play that song on repeat until the chapter is done. Most of the music I listen to is from film scores. For example, my Ultraxenopia playlist has a few songs from The Hunger Games and Cloud Atlas soundtracks.

10. I must say your book covers are beautiful, that being said, do you ‘cover buy’ books? Are you drawn to them and do you like people on the front covers?

I am definitely a ‘cover buy’ reader. I only ever pick up a book if I like the cover or if I’ve heard so much about the book the cover doesn’t matter. I tend to prefer more artistic/symbolic looking covers, but I also like covers with people on the front (especially if big, pretty dresses are involved!)

11. Are there any other genre you’d like to explore?

I’m actually SUPER into adult thrillers as a reader, like even more so than YA. I would love to become the female version of Dennis Lehane. Dude knows what’s up (Shudder Island FTW!). Saying that, you’ll notice everything I write has some sort of thriller aspect to it for that reason.

12. What other projects are you working on?

I recently completed a YA fairytale retelling of Beauty and the Beast which I’m reading back through now so I can send over to my beta readers and then pitch to agents in March. Then, it’s onto Project W. A. R. book three!

I’ll leave you with a slideshow of my fan art, you’re welcome. ☺️

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Author Interview 💛 M.A Phipps Hey lovely bookworms, as promised I have a special blog post... An Author Interview with the amazing M.A Phipps (Molly Phipps).

#amazing #blogger #bookreview #dystopian #amazon #books #nerdy #reading #review

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jimsbeetroot · 2 months

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𝐈 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧♱ 𝐣𝐢𝐦 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐭

hopefully, i will be able to make this a series, of reader and jim on their vacation (ergo, why its called I in Spain, as in the first day)! i really want to anyway!

"You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Jim's face dropped as he looked over at the large - but empty - hotel pool, his surprised eyes quickly shifting back to your grinning ones.

“If you want to have sex, we’ll find someplace else, but I’m not fucking you in a hotel pool.”

You pouted, desperately hoping that your quivering bottom lip would win Jim over, but he only shook his head and looked away.

“Why not?” You mumbled, staring into Jim's chest as you fumbled with the strings of his hoodie.

Jim was practically bent in half, his chin resting on your head as he tiredly skimmed the crowded hotel lobby.

Jim had finally gotten the green light to go on a vacation, and the two of you had packed your bags for two sunny weeks in the south of Spain.

“Let’s just go to our room,” Jim suggested. He grabbed your hand, but you snatched it from his grip.

“But I want to go into the swimming pool!” You whined, stomping your foot into the tiles of the hotel lobby.

Jim shushed you and looked around, making sure that no one was staring at the two of you.

“I want you to fuck me in the swimming pool,” you giggled, but Jim wasn’t laughing at all.

“This is not funny, Y/N,” Jim shook his head and grabbed your hand again. This time, you didn't even have the chance to protest before you were dragged down a hallway by your 6'6 foot boyfriend.

Jim held the luggage in one hand and your hand in his other.

He pushed the elevator button, and the two of you waited silently for a while, before a brilliant idea washed upon you.

"I even packed my best swimwear. You know, the pink two-piece?"

You said, and Jim stared back at you with an unamused glance. He knew that you were trying to get a reaction out of him.

He was the one, who had bought you that bikini, but not to have you flaunting it to everyone. No, that was a bikini strictly for his eyes.

"I might just go without you, then," You huffed as the two of you stepped into the elevator.

Jim had let go of your wrist. He stared at you with a clenched jaw and tilted his head.

"In that bikini? Fucking forget it," Jim chuckled, seemingly thinking you were joking, but looking at your pout and angry stare, he slowly realized that you were dead serious.

"It's just a bikini, James. Why did you buy me a bikini, if you don't want me to wear it?" You asked and looked up at Jim with a question-marked grimace.

"I'm just saying; I think you could've chosen a pair that didn't show that off that much," Jim said. He knew, that you were the master of analyzing words down to the bone, and just as he'd feared, your brain began decoding his last sentence.

"Oh, so you own me? Well, maybe you should pack my whole suitcase the next time we travel. Or maybe, you should just approve everything I ever wear. That way, we'll be sure to"

"Okay, calm the fuck down," he hissed and nipped your upper arm as the elevator stopped and an elderly couple walked in. You glared at him and rubbed the red spot on your arm, where Jim had left a mark.

The elevator was silent, as it went up, finally stopping at your level. You walked out, Jim following behind you with the key card.

You stood by the hotel room door and waited impatiently for Jim to unlock it. When he did, you hurried in and threw yourself on the bed.

Jim placed the luggage on the ground and rubbed his shoulders, clearly exhausted from a whole day of travelling. But you were loaded with energy.

"Listen, I'm gonna take a nap. Come join me. Maybe we can take a swim later."

Jim laid down on the bed and reached an arm out for you, but you huffed at his gesture.

"I don't want to go to sleep now, James. I wanna go swim," you whined, stomping slightly as Jim turned around, back facing you and closed his eyes, pretending not to care.

"Fine, then go," he mumbled. You huffed at his response.

"Fine, then give me the key card," you responded. You knew, that you needed the key card to lock yourself into the swimming pool, but also to get back into the room again.

Jim didn't respond.

"James, I said give me the key card," you said with a stern voice. He had it on him somewhere, but where? That was a great question.

"Go get another one, then we'll have one each," Jim said.

He would've never suggested that if it wasn't for your absolute fear of talking to strangers, especially when you didn't speak their language. Just the thought made you all nervous, and Jim knew that, that son of a bitch.

He knew, that you wouldn't dare to go ask anyone alone, and Jim had no plans of moving from the bed anytime soon.

"I'm serious, Jim. Just give me the key card."

You were starting to get pretty riled up, and Jim knew that. Everything at that moment, depended on that idiotic key card.

You scanned him up and down. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. Couldn't be that hard to get a hold of, you thought.

You walked over to the side of the bed, where Jim was lying, looking down at him. "Give me the key card," you huffed and pushed his shoulder slightly, although he didn't move.

"Give me the key card," you repeated, pushing his shoulder a little harder this time.

Jim didn't react at all. He just lay on his side, arms crossed against his chest, his long legs folded towards his upper body

"Jim, give me the key c-"

Before your hand could make contact with his shoulder, he - in a swift move- lifted his hand and grabbed your wrist tightly.

"Don't you think you've crossed enough lines today?" Jim sighed, eyes still closed and grip still tight around your wrist. You struggled to get out of his hold, but it was no use. He was, indeed a great deal stronger than you.

"Let me go," you hissed, trying everything to get away from him, but then you spotted it. There, the key card was, slightly sticking out of the front pocket of his jeans. Without hesitation, your free hand went to grab it, only just getting to touch it before Jim's other hand grabbed yours.

You probably look ridiculous, standing above your boyfriend, wrestling him and losing terribly. Jim thought it was hilarious, mostly because you both knew, that you didn't stand a chance against Jim.

Jim managed to roll you over him and into the space next to him. Now, he was hovering over you, pressing your hands against the mattress.

"Let me go!" You hissed through pursed lips and shook a strand of hair away from your eyes.

Jim shook his head and sighed, "Let's take a nap."

He folded his arms around your upper body, his chest pressed against your back as he hugged you so suffocatingly tight, disallowing any possible movement from you.

His legs kept yours closed, weighing them down.

"Let me go, James," you huffed and moved the only limb, not secured by Jim. You only managed to lift your hand a little, before Jim grabbed that too and locked your hands.

"Just relax, babe. We're on vacation, remember?"

If you could move any part of your body, you would've hit Jim so hard, but you were completely locked in, with no chance of escaping.

"I'm sorry, that I'm not super calm when fully restrained," you replied sarcastically.

Jim only hummed a reply. You were not about to lay there, waiting for him to wake up.

"Let me go!" You hissed and wriggled your body as much as you could, desperate to get out of his grip, although you were admittedly beginning to get a little tired.

You didn't stop wriggling around until Jim let out a guttural moan. All you had been doing was just grinding your ass against the crotch. You hadn't done this on purpose, but you'd made his cock hard as a rock. You could feel his stiff member poking your ass through his jeans.

"Congratulations. You get your way like you always fucking do," Jim whispered.

Honestly, you'd completely forgotten about the pool. All you could think about, was Jim moaning into your ear, as you began forcing your hips backwards, rubbing your ass against his hard cock.

Shifting his hold on you, Jim had both your wrists in his hand, still holding you tightly and secured. The other had snuck beneath your tank, his massive hand fumbling your breast. You moaned at the sensation and closed your eyes, throwing your head back against Jim's shoulder, mouth open.

Jim removed his hand from under your shirt and trailed it slowly, painfully slowly down to the waistband of your shorts. By now, not only were the panties you were wearing utterly soaked, but a big wet spot was starting to take form in the crotch area of your denim shorts.

You tried to break your hands out of Jim's grip. You desperately wished to tangle your fingers in his hair or tug at his arms, but you couldn't move your hands.

A whine left your lips as Jim unbuttoned your shorts with one hand and slipped his long fingers into your underwear.

His index finger ran a few times up and down your slit before pressing his index- and middle finger against your clit, rubbing it slowly. You rocked your hips back, moaning and whining. Your nails dug into the hand, Jim had them wrapped in.

Swiftly retrieving his fingers, you griped but shut yourself up when you felt Jim pulling down your shorts along with your panties.

His fingers returned to your soaking cunt. He used the leg, which he had used to keep yours closed with, to spread your legs apart. This gave him full access to your dripping crotch.

His long index- and ring finger slid into the soaking entrance of your cunt, digging deep inside of you. A piercing screech left your lips at the sensation. Your back arched as Jim used his thumb to rub your clit, still drilling his lengthy fingers into your cunt.

It was just about too much. Thankfully, Jim decided to let go of your hands. One hand immediately went to his hair, while the other grasped his veiny forearm.

Your mind was all over the place and your eyes were rolled far back, everything suddenly disappearing when Jim removed his hand from your cunt. He uncurled himself from your side and suddenly, there was no touch to be felt.

You were just about to complain until you realised that he was merely taking off his jeans.

"Take your shirt off," he ordered. You followed his order immediately, suddenly sitting completely naked.

Jim removed his T-shirt along with his underwear, cock springing out, hard, dripping with precum. You bit your lip at the sight and rolled onto your back, but Jim pushed you to lay on your side again.

He laid down, his chest once again pressed against your back, only now, his cock was bare and throbbing against your heat. Jim kissed your neck roughly, surely leaving marks. You attempted to turn your body to kiss Jim's lips, but his massive hand went around your throat, gently forcing your head down on the pillow.

His long fingers once again went down to your cunt, wasting no time to force them into your cunt again, causing a mighty howl from you. He only pumped his fingers a few times before removing them.

"Always gotta test the waters," he whispered, hand still wrapped around your throat. Jim lined his cock up at your entrance, mumbling a quiet, "Ready?" but wasted no time, waiting for an answer before driving his cock deeply into your cunt.

You screamed and threw your head back, the new position blowing your mind away. Jim's pace was fast and steady. Deep and thorough.

His hips pushed up, every thrust filled with an unbearable force. His arms crossed over your chest, each hand grasping your tits hard. Your nails dug into his forearms, so deeply that you could've sworn, that you'd heard a wince leaving his lips.

A series of cusswords along with Jim's name repeatedly left your mouth, Only a few thrusts later, you were sent through the roof with indescribable feelings of fireworks in your stomach.

The noises, which left your mouth were difficult to describe, and they didn't stop, just because you'd reached your climax. Jim was chasing his high, but his thrusts continued at the same, insane speed, which persisted until he also came, hands tightly grasping your breasts.

He hummed your name over and over again until his body finally released itself of its tension and unstiffened. Jim's grip softened, and as soon, as he'd unhanded you, you turned around and hugged him, his arms immediately closing around you.

#chris fehn #corey taylor #james root #jim root #craig jones #jim root x reader #joey jordison imagines #slipknot photos #slipknot fanfic #slipknotimagines #slipknot x reader #slipknot #jim root x female reader #jim root imagines #jim root imagine #james root imagine

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