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wheresarizona · 1 year

Text

Creed

summary: Upon meeting Bo-Katan Kryze and discovering there are other Mandalorians out in the galaxy who remove their helmets, Din Djarin is suddenly questioning his beliefs and unable to stop from wondering what you, his wife, look like under your own helm.

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, Soft Din Djarin, established relationship, age gap (10 years), alternating pov, unprotected p in v, creampie, BREEDING KINK, oral sex (f receiving), first kiss, dirty talk, praise kink, domestic fluff, fluff, removing helmets for the first time, religious guilt, did I mention breeding kink? Din being so in love he wants to break the Creed, good parent Din Djarin)

pairing: Din Djarin/f!Mandalorian reader (from the Tribe with zero physical descriptions)

word count: 6.2k

a/n: It’s called Creed, but Breed also works. Lmaooo @what-muses sent in the prompt for Din hearing reader singing to Grogu, and I am so insanely sorry for this not being super wholesome. I just know in my heart Din would hear the woman he loves singing to their kid, and he’d want more children. 😭😭😭 I legit wrote 95% of this while either sick or in the ER to make myself feel better. Takes place during season 2. Thank you to the love of my life @juletheghoul for betaing this.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to hear what you thought of it!

Masterlist

He knows his own face—the color of his eyes, the curve of his nose, the crease between his eyebrows, the patchy facial hair. He knows the shape of his lips, the dimple in his cheek, and the lines that show his age. He’s the only person who can take in all of these details and know they belong to him, something secret, sacred—the Way of the Mandalore means no other living being can see him without his helmet. It also means you’ve never seen his face, but that’s never been an issue since you also follow the Creed.

Staring at his reflection in the ‘fresher mirror, his naked body clean from the sonic shower, he slowly moves the razor over the skin of his cheek, wondering briefly what you look like under your purple helm.

Pausing, his eyebrows furrow, realizing the thought has never once crossed his mind—it wasn’t something he ever would have wondered before because it’s never been important. The two of you had your beliefs and followed them, not caring about what was beneath the beskar, all that mattered was you loved each other.

You’ve been together since he’d saved the kid from the Client, you leaving Nevarro with him, your relationship shifting as time went on—the two of you keeping the child safe and falling in love in the process.

Then on your quest to reunite the small boy with his kind, you’d met the other Mandalorians, discovering there were many out across the galaxy who didn’t follow the Creed or the ways of old. They believed you could be a Mandalorian and remove your helmet and that your tribe was a cult.

Continuing shaving, he rinses the razor blade under water before sliding it along his other cheek. A lot of people preferred using depil cream to remove their facial hair, but Din liked the precision of the razor over the viscous liquid.

It was overwhelming hearing all that Bo-Katan had said and having this new knowledge, making him wonder what it truly meant to be a Mandalorian.

Could he really put the helmet back on once he took it off in front of another?

With the location of a Jedi and your time with your foundling running out, it was important he was present to witness your union, both knowing you were going to spend the rest of your days together by each other’s sides. Din and you exchanged your vows, committing to one another for life in the cockpit of the Razor Crest with your child in attendance and the bright streaking stars of hyperspace flying by.

His face is mostly shaved, leaving hair on his chin and above his lips, now using a small pair of scissors to trim his mustache.

It doesn’t matter to him that no one else gets to see how he looks. He’s still particular in how he likes his facial hair, unable to stand too much of it under his helmet, keeping the hair on his head cropped short for comfort.

It makes him wonder if you have preferences as he shapes his mustache.

How long is your hair? What color is it? What color are your eyes? What does your smile look like? What will your children look like?

His hand stops, his eyes widening.

Gulping hard, that’s another thought that’s never crossed his mind. He knows you’re going to have children together. It’s something you’ve discussed, but not once has he thought of their looks. Things like that didn’t matter to Mandalorians, who spend their lives covered head to toe in armor. He wonders if he’d be able to pick out the pieces of you in them to get a glimpse of what the woman he loves looks like—he wants to know.

Why is he stuck on this?

It’s not the Way.

Din sighs, finishing what he’s doing.

The scissors get put back into his shaving kit, cleaning the sink of his hair clippings, happy you got a room at the inn here on Nevarro while the Crest is being repaired. The two of you are planning to help Greef and Cara with a small matter in the morning in exchange for the ship's repairs.

Once he’s done, the stuff shoved into his bag, Din pulls out clean clothes to change into for the night, settling for some cloth pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Putting his helmet on, he gathers his bag and flight suit, the rest of his armor out in the room you’re in with the kid, stacked neatly beside your own.

Greef was the one who provided the accommodations, Din assuming it’d be a basic room—a bed, a refresher, the necessities. That wasn’t good enough for the magistrate, though. Instead, he’d set you up in a one-bedroom suite with a sitting room and a tiny kitchen.

Making his way out of the ‘fresher and bedroom, he stops in his tracks at what he hears.

You’re sitting at the small dining table, the kid in the seat beside you happily accepting the food he’s passed, which was a common occurrence, it’s the song you’re singing that has Din so caught off guard.

He’s heard you hum a lot—tunes were always getting stuck in your head that you picked up in cantinas or buskers on the street. You’ve sung before, too, but you were trying to make him and the kid laugh with your boisterous renditions of Mandalorian drinking songs.

This is different.

It’s not loud—it’s soft, sweet, the Mando’a flowing from your lips like a soft caress, hearing your love for the child with every syllable sung. This is a song mothers sang to their children, having heard such a thing back at the covert, about Mandalore the Great taming his mythical mythosaur and the strength all Mandalorians had.

There’s a helmet on your head, and he can’t help imagining what your face looks like under the t-visor. He can hear your love, would he be able to see it, too? There’s a smile in your voice, and it makes his chest squeeze at how he wishes he could look upon it.

Din knows you, and you know him.

He knows your likes and dislikes, your deepest, darkest secrets—everything about you, Din has learned and loves.

And now he wants more of you to love—he wants all of you, wants to see all of you.

You’re a wonderful mother, the kid so happy with you, taking him in like he’s your own flesh and blood, and something inside Din is screaming that you need more children—he needs to give you that, more little ones to love, and sing to, as many as you want, the thought of you pregnant with his child making his skin heat.

Stars, you’d be even more beautiful round with his baby.

He swallows hard, his pants feeling a little tight.

He knows everything about you, he loves everything about you, and guilt has settled like a stone in his stomach that he suddenly can’t get his mind off what’s under the beskar on your head.

The singing stops when you notice him, your t-visor trained on his prone form, standing just inside the room.

“Hey!” you say, handing the child more food. “It’s dinner time—ordered food while you were in the ‘fresher. Got you something I know you’ll like.”

It takes him from his reverie, finally moving again to set his bag near the table by the couch, the shining pieces of both of your armor on top of it. He tosses his flight suit onto the sofa over his cape, walking over to where you and the kid are.

He’s behind your chair, rubbing his hands over your arms as he replies, “Thank you, my love.” Leaning down to gently knock his helmet against yours in the semblance of a kiss before moving around the table to take a seat.

What would your lips feel like on his?

He has to shake the question from his brain, clearing his throat, and opening the food container in front of him.

It makes him smile when he sees you did get him something he’d like—skewers of meat and vegetables.

Picking one up, he uses the fork beside him to push off the chunks into the container, discarding the skewer and using his free hand to lift his helmet up just enough to take a bite. He groans happily at the spices enveloping his tongue, chewing and swallowing.

“Good?” you ask, beginning to eat your own dinner the same way he was.

In the company of other Mandalorians, it was generally protocol to go off and eat alone, but you’d been traveling in the tight confines of the Crest for so long that barely lifting the helmet was an acceptable compromise, avoiding looking at each other as you did it.

“Really good,” he replies, shoving more into his mouth.

The kid coos contently, full from his meal, while you both enjoy your own, sharing snippets of conversation between bites.

By the time you’re both finished, the little one is falling asleep in his chair, and helmets are once again covering your faces.

“I’ll put him to bed,” you softly say, starting to get up from your chair.

“The couch,” he says a little too quickly.

“The couch?” Your tone is teasing. “Got plans since we have a bed this evening, my dear husband?”

“Maybe I do.”

“In that case, the couch it is,” you reply, disappearing into the bedroom and returning with a pillow and blanket that you put onto the sofa, coming back over to the table to take the child.

Din busies himself cleaning up the trash and finds himself stuck in place when he’s done as he watches you sitting next to the kid, stroking his big ears while softly singing an old lullaby.

That need comes crashing into him again, the one telling him to give you a baby. It’s loud, something primal that he feels deep down that won’t be satisfied until he’s buried himself inside your cunt and pumps you full of his seed.

Arousal is burning in his gut, his cock stirring, eyes locked on your downturned helm and the curve of your breasts under your shirt.

He wants to strip you bare and feel your skin, batting away the intrusive thought of getting your helmet off—his, too, in order to lick and suck what he wants to touch.

He’s so lost in thought he doesn’t realize you’ve gotten up until you’re whispering by the bedroom door, “You coming?”

His bare feet move quickly, following you into the other room. Once the door is shut and the lock engaged, he’s crowding into you, needing to get his hands on your body, rubbing them over your soft belly and up to cup your breasts.

“You’re in a mood,” you giggle, Din’s hands roaming all over your body, your front, back, down to grab your ass.

“Need you,” he grunts.

Sliding your hands down his chest, you move lower to palm his half-hard dick in his pants, feeling it twitch under your touch.

“Yeah, you do.”

His eagerness is turning you on, wishing you could kiss him.

That makes you frown.

Over a year together and never once have you thought of kissing Din or seeing him without his helmet, for that matter, and yet, for days now, these things have been popping up in your brain. Kept you wondering what he looks like, or the face he was making in a moment or how soft his lips were, or the color of his eyes—plagued by thoughts that went against how you were raised and what you believed, clear violations of the Creed you swore to live your life by.

It’s never been an issue, always a fact that the helmet stayed on in front of another, and then you met Bo-Katan, and now you were at constant war with your own mind, feeling like it was an enemy you couldn’t vanquish in battle.

There are other Mandalorians out there, who even wish to reclaim Mandalore, and they believe you can remove your helm in the presence of another—Bo-Katan’s own armor had been passed down for three generations.

What if it was okay to remove it?

Would Din want to?

Would he still love you?

“What’s wrong?” he asks, taking you from your thoughts.

His hands are now caressing the sides of your helmet, a little intrusive thought in the back of your mind wishing he’d take it off.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh. “Just… thinking.”

“About what?”

“Stuff…”

His head tilts in confusion.

“Tell me.”

That’s the thing about Din, he’s your best friend, your husband, you can tell him anything, which is why you tell him the truth.

“Bo-Katan and the others, they are Mandalorians and remove their helmets.”

“Yes, they do not follow the Creed.”

“Do you believe they are Mandalorians?”

“Do you?”

“Bo-Katan was born on Mandalore. She fought in the Great Purge. I do believe they are Mandalorians.”

“As do I.”

“You do?”

“I do.” He nodded.

“Din, we grew up believing in the Way of the Mandalore—it’s all we’ve known. We went through the same ceremony, we swore to walk the Way and never remove our helmets, but I—” Your hands go up to cradle where his cheeks would be “—can’t stop thinking about what you look like, and I feel ashamed because I know it’s wrong.”

“It’s not wrong.” He sounds hopeful. “I feel the same and want to see your face, too.”

That has you taken aback.

“You do…?”

“I do.” He nods.

“But will you still love me…?” you ask, barely above a whisper.

“Of course. I love you for you and not for what’s underneath the beskar.”

“That’s a lie. You’re obsessed with my body.”

He chuckles, “I am because I love you and would continue loving you even if it changed…” he trails off like he’s thinking about something “I. Love. You.” he adds, saying each word clearly.

“Promise?”

Pressing a hand over his heart, he answers, “On my life.”

“Okay, I believe you.”

“Will you still love me…?” The question comes out slowly.

“We literally just had a conversation over how you love me for me, and you have to know I feel the same way.”

“Just making sure.” You can hear his smile.

“So, would you like to break the Creed with me…?”

Your heart is hammering in your chest.

“More than you know.”

Relief washes over you, combined with giddiness.

“Thank the Stars!” you exclaim happily.

“At the same time?” He’s as eager as you are, his hands moving back to hold your helmet again.

“Yes.”

Gripping his, you both count down together, “Three, two, one…” Carefully, you lift his beskar, your own coming off, blinking at the light in the room, and your eyes zeroing in on the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, your mouth falling open in shock.

A person’s looks have never meant much to you, thinking some were pleasing to the eye, you finding someone’s prowess in battle more attractive along with their personality.

Din is a formidable opponent, always succeeding in his endeavors because he is highly intelligent, strong, and knows how to fight and use a weapon.

Even though many fear your husband, he’s actually a very sweet man, caring, loving, and will protect you and your foundling with his life.

And now you know he is also unbelievably attractive.

Beautiful chocolate eyes are rounded as they stare at you, the look on his face a twin of your own, loving his nose, and the messy brown hair on top of his head, seeing that he recently shaved with his facial hair looking neat, taking in every detail and line of the man you love.

“Beautiful,” he whispers in awe, and it has tears brimming in your eyes, bending down to set his helmet on the ground, him doing the same with yours, your hands moving to touch his face when you both straighten.

He’s so gentle when his broad palms caress your cheeks, almost like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

Smiling, you reply, “You’re very handsome yourself.” You reach up to smooth your thumbs over his eyebrows. “Your eyes are stunning. I hope our child gets them.”

His lips tip up, and Stars, they’re so plush, you can’t help yourself when you lean in to press your own against his, him making a surprised sound.

Your heart picks up in speed, having wondered what it would be like to kiss him, and at first, it’s soft; the warmth spreading under your skin, meaning to only give him a peck, but then he’s pulling you closer, kissing you a little harder. It’s lingering, his lips moving against yours in tiny movements that have fire burning brightly in your veins, following his lead to mimic what he was doing again and again and again.

It’s not like either of you has any experience with this type of thing, so you’re figuring it out as you go, doing what feels good, getting braver and more comfortable. Your fingers slide into the thick strands of his hair, moaning when his tongue slides over your bottom lip, instinctively opening for him. This was somehow better, more intimate, tasting each other, exploring the other’s mouths until the need to breathe became too much, and you’re separating with smiles on your faces, Din’s lips red and shiny from spit.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, and it makes you feel all gooey.

“You’re very handsome.”

You stroke your fingers over his cheeks, his hands on your jaw, rubbing a thumb over your wet bottom lip.

It’s like you both can’t stop yourselves from staring, eyes taking in every little detail of the other's face, saving them to memory.

The need rises, and you’re kissing once more, it’s messy before you’re both moving to get your clothes off as quickly as possible—once stripped, Din’s mouth is on yours as he walks you back toward the bed, falling with you on top of it.

His hips are slotted between your thighs, his lips detaching from yours to kiss along your jaw, over your cheeks, up on your forehead, and the tip of your nose.

It makes you smile, him kissing all over your face, then to your ear, shoving his nose in your hair, and inhaling.

“Fuck, you smell amazing,” he says.

That makes you laugh.

“Thanks, but we use the same stuff—we smell the same.”

“No.” He nips at your ear, sucking it into his mouth, gasping at the jolts of pleasure shooting to your center. “You smell better.”

You press your fingers into his hair.

“Stars,” you moan, his lips trailing down your neck and sucking hard on your pulse point. “It feels so good, Din.”

His mouth is so warm, leaving your skin wet in the wake of his kisses, and he can’t seem to get enough, lips streaking across every bit of you as he travels down your body. His mouth engulfs your stiff nipple, making your back arch, gasping his name.

Arousal is hot in your belly, the feeling incredible as he laves at one hard bud, then the other, your head feeling dizzy while soft sounds spill from your lips.

He comes off your nipple with a pop, continuing his journey lower, kissing over your belly until he’s half off the bed, his big hands spreading your thighs.

There’s a look of hunger on his face as he stares at the apex of your thighs, his fingers moving to spread open the lips of your sex, seeing the pink of his tongue peek out to swipe across his bottom lip like he wants to taste you. The look has excitement thrumming in your veins, wanting nothing more than to know what it feels like to have his mouth on you.

“Taste it,” you purr, and his eyes meet yours, his so dark barely any of the beautiful brown remains. “I know you’ve licked me from your fingers.” You’ve seen him on more than one occasion lift his helmet just enough to suck your arousal from digits after they’d been inside you. “Taste it—I want your tongue.” You bit your lip between your teeth.

“Fuck,” he rasps, wasting no time dipping his head forward, licking a stripe through your slit, the flat of his tongue going from your entrance to your clit. He’s groaning into your sensitive flesh as you moan at how good it feels, him laving at every bit of slick he can find, your back arching when he pushes the wet muscle inside you.

“You taste so good.” His words are muffled in your cunt, his mouth moving up, making your toes curl when he sucks on your bundle of nerves.

Even though this isn’t an act either of you has ever done before, Din is a quick learner, knowing intimately what makes you tick—once he has his fill of your taste, he slides two thick fingers inside you, crooking them into that spot he always zeros in on, your vision going white for a second at the shock of pleasure.

“Din,” you moan, threading your fingers into his brown waves for something to hold onto.

The muscles in your belly are beginning to tighten, the heat in the base of your spine growing.

His big brown eyes lock on yours from between your legs, seeing your arousal glistening in his mustache and on his plush lips.

“Wanna taste your come,” he husks, his fingers continuing to work. “Can you come for me? Please?”

This might be his first time, but that big brain of his has quickly worked out how to get what he wants, keeping his gaze on yours while pulling your perky little clit into his mouth, sucking on it while his fingers slide along something divine, rocketing you toward your release.

Your hands tighten in his hair at the pleasurable fire building in your core, feeling it getting hotter and hotter as he works you over, having to bite your fingers to muffle your noises when euphoria explodes inside you, quieting your whine of his name.

“That’s it, beautiful,” he says into your pussy. “My good girl—such a good girl.”

His fingers leave you, replaced with his tongue, hearing and feeling him loudly groan as he indulges in your come, drinking it down from the source.

Your chest is heaving, breathing hard as you come down, your husband having the best time with his mouth on your cunt if the noises are anything to go by.

He got to explore your body, and it’s your turn, salivating at the thought.

Tugging on his hair, you say, “Din?”

His head comes up, looking a little lost with glazed-over eyes, the bottom half of his face shining in the light of the room.

All he can do is grunt in response.

“Get up on the bed and lay down on your back, please.”

His face pinches in confusion.

“What?” he whispers.

You smile. He seems almost drunk, a state you’ve never seen him in since he doesn’t like anything inhibiting his mind or body.

“Get up here, my love—” You pat the bed beside you. “—and lay down on your back. It’s my turn.”

It registers what you say, and he nods, doing as he’s told and crawling up onto the mattress and flopping down next to you with his head resting back on a pillow. Rolling over, you throw your leg over his waist, moving to straddle his hips, your wet center pressing his hard cock into his stomach. You rub your hands up his soft belly and over his chest, seeing the faded scars on his golden skin.

“You’re beautiful,” you say.

His cheeks pink at the comment.

“Thank… you…” he replies, his hands grabbing your waist, smoothing his thumbs over your skin. “You’re more beautiful than the Diathim.”

Your eyebrow raises. “You’re saying I’m prettier than an angel?”

“Songs should be sung of your beauty—there’s nothing that compares in the entire galaxy.” He says it with such conviction your breath hitches, taken aback by the look on his face telling you he means it.

“We should get married,” you blurt out.

“What…?”

“I want to marry you again and see your face when we say our vows.”

You’re fascinated by how you can see him visibly soften, his mouth turning up in a grin that reveals an adorable dimple, reaching his hand to cup your cheek.

“Will you marry me again?” he asks.

You’re matching his look, nodding as you say, “Yes!” Unable to keep yourself from leaning down to press your mouth to his, moaning when you taste yourself in the passionate kiss. His arms wrap around your back, hugging you close to him, losing yourselves for a minute in your happiness.

You’re panting when you break apart.

You’d wanted to take your time getting your mouth all over his body, but there’s a sudden need to have him inside of you—sitting up on your knees, you snake your hand between your bodies to take his cock in hand, pressing it to your aching entrance.

You moan in unison as you lower yourself on him, watching his face as his mouth falls open, his hands grabbing onto your hips, the thick girth of him stretching you open and filling you inch by glorious inch until your thighs meet, feeling so unbelievably full.

“Stars, you feel so good,” you breathe.

“Not as good as you feel.” His words come out strained, watching his throat work as he swallows hard.

You do an experimental roll of your hips, making his fingers tighten in your skin.

His eyes are on yours. “I want to see you come while I’m inside you,” he husks. “Can you do that? Can you use me to make yourself feel good?”

“Yes,” you answer, starting to move up and down, your hands on his chest for leverage.

You love having him inside you—the way he fits so perfectly, rubbing against all the right spots, joining you together.

His hands are on your body while you ride him, rubbing along your ribs and over your stomach, moving up to palm the weight of your breasts, tweaking your nipples, sending jolts straight to your pussy.

“Ride my cock, pretty girl,” Din says in a low rasp. “I love watching you—so beautiful. Use me.”

Adjusting your hips has him sliding into that sacred place that makes your head spin, rising and falling at a pace that’s slowly building you up and up.

Arousal is dripping out of you and down his shaft, allowing you to move with ease, Din’s eyes locked on your face, groans spilling from his throat, looking wrecked at you bouncing on him.

His cock is hot and hard inside you, lifting your hips and slamming your ass down, working yourself closer to your end.

It’s exhilarating to be able to see how good he feels and how much he’s enjoying himself. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes lust-blown, his forehead glistening with sweat.

“I know you’re almost there.” His words come out rough. “You gonna come for me? Gonna be my good girl? I know you can do it. Wanna watch you—wanna see you come, my love.”

“So close,” you pant.

You’re rising and falling, moans slipping from your lips, the knot in your belly winding tighter and tighter until it’s snapping, and you’re coming with a gasp of his name. Your eyes close as pleasure expands from your center, spreading through your body.

“So beautiful,” Din marvels in a groan. “Such a good girl. I love you—I love watching you.”

“I love you, too,” you breathe, your orgasm beginning to ebb.

A surprised sound comes from you when suddenly you’re jostled, Din groaning as he sits up, keeping you on him as he gets situated with you in his lap, spreading his legs on the bed for balance.

You’re now face to face, his hand gently cupping your cheek as his lips find yours, kissing you tenderly, his other arm wrapped around your back to hug you to him. You thread your fingers in his hair, melting into him, accepting his tongue when he deepens the kiss.

You’ve found you love kissing. There was something about it that was so intimate—sharing breaths, being so close, and tasting him.

His hair is so soft and thick, scratching your nails gently along his scalp and feeling him shiver beneath you.

His hands go to your ass, gripping it tight while he starts moving you in his lap, his lips still on yours.

“Want you close,” he murmurs into your mouth. “Need you close.”

You bounce up and down on his throbbing cock, your knees on either side of his hips helping you rise and fall, fucking yourself on him as you keep kissing.

His words are muffled against your lips, “You’re so beautiful, strong, fierce, loving, and good with the kid.” He moves you faster, using his strength to lift you, grunting in exertion. “I watched you tonight with him—I want more little ones.”

The thought makes you clench around him.

“Din,” you moan, feeling him smile.

“I want to raise more warriors with you,” he continues. “I want to father your children. I want to fuck a baby into you,” he groans, his cock twitching. You can tell he’s getting close as you breathe hard, your thighs burning deliciously. “I want to fill you up, fuck you full of me over and over until it takes.” His words have arousal curling in your gut and the familiar heat building at the base of your spine, bouncing up and down in his lap. “I want to see you round with my child. I want to have as many as you’ll allow. I want to fill the ship, then a house with our kids. I want to see you mother more of my children and sing them the songs of old. I want you, all of you.”

It all sounds so good, wanting the same, gasping, “Yes.”

“Can I?” he asks in a wrecked tone. “Can I fuck a baby into you? Can I get you pregnant? Please. Please, can I father your child?”

“Stars, yes,” you moan. “Please. I want one. Fill me up—keep me full.”

He groans loudly, kissing you hard, making you gasp in surprise when he tackles you onto your back on the mattress, his hips nestled in the cradle of your thighs, holding himself up on his forearms beside your head.

He starts moving fast, fucking into you with abandon to chase his high. The wet slap of skin on skin is sounding in the room, along with his grunts muffled by your mouth, filling you over and over, his thick cock pushing in so deep he’s kissing your womb.

You grab onto his broad shoulders, needing something to hang onto, digging your nails into his golden skin. The kisses are sloppy, the tension rising in your belly. His pace gets uneven until he pushes in one last time, going as deep as he can, coming with a ragged groan. You can feel him jerk inside you and the wet pulse as warmth fills your depths. He rocks his hips, moving a hand between your bodies to circle your clit, already so worked up that it doesn’t take much to have you cresting softly with a moan of his name. Your body tenses up, Din grunting as your cunt chokes his dick, working his spend even deeper inside you.

“That’s it,” he groans. “So good to me, my good girl.”

You’re both panting, and he moves his head to the crook of your neck, collapsing on top of you.

It makes you smile when you press your fingers into his sweat-damp hair; how soothing it is to just run your fingers through the brown waves and lightly scratch at his scalp, Din practically purring.

“That’s so nice.” He slurs.

“I like It, too.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

It’s comfortable as you both lie there, not caring about your sweaty bodies or his weight on you, just basking in the afterglow together.

It feels like you’re so close, neither of you would know where one ends and the other begins—so tangled up in each other it feels as though you’re one—one body, one heart, one soul.

Minutes pass in silence, Din groaning as he moves to get up, kneeling between your spread legs. His eyes are locked on where you’re connected, hissing when he pulls himself out of you. Your eyes widen when his fingers catch some of his come that’s dripped out of you, moaning when he pushes it back inside.

“Don’t want to waste a drop,” he says. “Can you keep it inside, my love?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

He smiles.

“Thank you.”

His hand leaves you watching in interest as he pushes the digits between his lips, sucking them clean with a groan. They leave his mouth with a pop, his gaze on yours.

“I’ll never tire of how good you taste.” He says.

“I feel like you’re going to be insatiable.” You tease.

He smiles, and you love it so much that you wish to see it every day for the rest of your life.

“I’m already insatiable.”

“Yes, you are.” You reply with the same look on your face.

Quickly he’s off the bed and coming back with a warm wet cloth, gently wiping you down and cleaning himself up, it getting tossed to the floor when he’s done.

He pulls you to lay correctly on the bed in his arms with your heads cushioned by pillows, facing him.

The lights are still on, and you just stare into each other's eyes, losing yourself in his dark pools, him smiling softly under his mustache.

“I’m so happy to know your face,” he whispers, his big hand sliding along your cheek. “I love you.”

“I’m happy to know your face, too,” you say just as softly. “The face of the man I love, who will father my children.”

He smiles brightly, his eyes crinkling adorably at the edges, leaning in to kiss you.

There’s light banging heard at the door that can only be made by tiny fists, Din and you separating immediately with wide eyes.

“Were we too loud?” You whisper.

Din grimaces, answering, “Maybe?”

You’re both moving immediately, jumping out of bed and tugging on your clothes, the air in the room tinged with sex. At least the kid chose to wake up after you’d finished. It was always incredibly awkward when he interrupted during.

The two of you look disheveled, Din’s hair a mess on top of his head, and his cheeks tinted pink.

“Go wash your hands and face,” you tell him. “I’ll get him.” Neither of you bothered putting on your helmets, your husband heading for the en suite, while you made it to the door, disengaging the lock and opening it.

You’re smiling as you look down at the child, him staring up at you with a weird look on his face.

“Hey, buddy,” you say, and his eyes get big, him babbling something pointing at your head. It makes you laugh. “It’s okay,” you reassure, leaning down to pick him up. He’s staring at you, his big eyes somehow bigger. “This is what I look like under the helmet.” His little clawed hand reaches out, pressing it to your cheek as he coos, and it warms your heart.

“Hey, you little womp rat,” Din’s warm voice says as he enters the room, you turning so the kid can see him. The child is babbling up a storm, holding his arms out, and Din chuckles, taking him as soon as he’s within reach. “Did we wake you up?” he asks. “We were just, uh, sparring, yeah, we were sparring, there’s nothing you need to worry about.” The kid is looking at him in wonder, reaching to touch Din’s cheek, the man smiling. “Yeah, I’m not wearing my helmet.” The child looks at you and back at Din, chattering up a storm.

“I think he’s confused.” You tell your husband.

“Yeah, I think he is.” His attention goes back to the kid in his arms, rubbing his back, speaking in a soft tone, “Hey, it’s okay, buddy.” The child goes silent as he listens. “There, uh, were those other Mandalorians who took off their helmets, and we decided to do the same. Everything’s okay. It’s still us.” He’s cooing again, patting Din’s cheek, making his dad chuckle. “It’s my face.” The kid yawns. “You ready to go back to bed?”

You’re already moving toward the mattress, taking off the top blanket, tossing it onto the floor, and pulling back the sheets.

Din walks over and gets in on the other side while still holding the child.

The boy ends up on Din’s chest, his tiny hand reaching up to rub the man’s earlobe while softly babbling—you crawl in next to your husband, resting your head on his shoulder, the lights turned off.

You’re beyond happy to know what the man you love looks like, and you can’t wait to add to your little family, rubbing a hand over your belly.

Your period is almost a month late, and you have a feeling it has nothing to do with stress.

Din was going to be ecstatic.

Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

Tagging: @theorganasolo @tiredbuthappy @mandowhatnow @myloveistoolittle @perksofbeingamultifandomm @eddiemunscns @deliriousfangirl61 @fandomandotherthings @myswficlist @aaetherr69 @swimmjacket @ins0mniac-whack @rintheemolion @notsosecretspy @ghostyoongs @freightcarcap @untitledarea @whitemanshoe19 @tmiranda94 @fleetsonfire @daddydindjarin @absurdthirst @kirsteng42 @littlemisspascal @athalien @thevoiceinyourheadx @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos @mswarriorbabe80 @star017 @artsymaddie @hansolosleftbuttcheek @deadhumourist @pretty-brown-eyess @hotchlover @eternallyvenus @allfoolsinluv @eppy816 @katareyoudrilling @babykangaemoji @punkerthanpascal @breezythesimp @grimeysociety @bruxasolta @peachyaeger @din-jarhead @lovesbiggerthanpride

#pedro pascal #Din djarin #Din djarin/reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian/reader #din djarin fanfiction #wheresarizona writes

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stevethehairington · 1 year

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Everyone always tells Eddie that he has his mother's hair. Pretty chestnut curls, all the way down past their shoulders. From when he was a little boy on, people would comment on it, would say how precious it was that they looked so similar, how sweet it was to share that feature.

Eddie loves that. Has always loved being so visibly connected to his mother. She is his favorite person. And he is hers.

But then Eddie's mom gets sick. She gets sick and her curls start to fall out. It starts out small, little clumps here and there, but it gets worse over time. And she's never been one to let things control her, though, so she shears the remaining curls off herself. Cuts them before they can cut her.

Eddie is sad to see them go, especially since it means they don't look alike anymore. But that's okay, because he knows how to fix that.

So little Eddie asks his dad to shave his head so that he can look like mommy still. He ends up actually liking the shaved head look because his mom is the coolest, and she makes it look so metal. (That's what she said when Eddie came running into the hospital room with his brand new buzzed hair. He'd sat on that bed with her and lifted her hand to his head so she could feel his fuzzy scalp. She'd smiled with shining eyes and told him he looked so metal.)

But then she dies. His mother dies, and seeing his shaved head in the mirror hurts. Because all he can think about when he sees it is her. His mom; frail, sick, hurting. Without a single curl on her head.

Eddie start to grow his hair out again. Lets it get long, long, long, the way it was before. It still looks like his mom's hair (he thinks there will never be a day that it doesn't, and god, if that doesn't hurt too), but this is the hair she had when she was happy, healthy. When she could lift him up and dance him around the tiny living room, singing and laughing and smiling so big.

But then Eddie's dad forces him to shave it. (He doesn't tell Eddie why, but it's because he looks too much like his mother. Acts like her too, but at least that was easy to ignore. This... this is much harder to wave off. And that's just far too much for his father, already dangling precariously on the edge, to handle.) So he sits Eddie down and he shaves it all off. And when Eddie looks at his reflection after... all he can see is that hospital bed. Those tubes. All the loud, beeping machines. His mother, so small, so fragile, tucked up beneath those too thin blankets, slipping away more and more each visit.

The pain and the hurt and the heartbreak flare up so strong, and Eddie hates it. He hates the reminder. He hates his father for doing this to him.

His father leaves him to go drown himself in another bottle, and Eddie takes a lock of his own hair from the floor. Holds it carefully in his palm. It's not his mother's, but it's the closest thing he's got to her.

He closes his fist around the hair and stares at himself hard in the mirror. Stiffens up his upper lip and sniffs hard and tries not to cry.

He throws the clippers away then, and vows to grow out his hair again. Vows to not ever cut it after this. Vows to never let his father touch his hair again.

The last vow is the easiest one to keep. Three months later, his father goes to prison.

He doesn't come back.

#eddie munson #stranger things #uh oops? my hand slipped?#i have a lot of thoughts and feelings about eddie and his relationship with his hair okay #mack writes #macks ficlets

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kolsmikaelson · 6 months

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— JACAERYS VELARYON NSFW ALPHABET

— a/n - have a soft spot for jace and heres what came of that :) special tag for @valeskafics bc she encouraged me to write this <3

— warning(s) - 18+ mdni, fem!reader, not proofread

join my taglist or follow @rodrickhefley to see when i post!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he’s so sweet and soft with you. if he’d been able to take his time with you he calls for a warm bath to be drawn and sits with you pressed against his chest until the water’s gone cold. if you’d been rushed he’d still clean you up with whatever he had or could find and would promise to take his time with you later <33

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

your tits. he loves anything to do with them, laying on them as he’s falling asleep, sucking on your nipples when you’re riding him, leaving hickeys and bite marks all over them. it’s one of his favorite things. his favorite body part of his would probably be his arms, like he can’t get over how strong he is and how easily he can toss you around

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he loves making you cum and then cumming inside of you and eating you out right after. he loves watching it drip out of you while he kisses at the inside of your thighs before eating you out and making you cum on his tongue again

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

loves people seeing you fuck but especially if it’s someone like aemond or aegon because he sees the way that they look at you and he feels so smug knowing that they can’t have you. except for the once or twice he gives in to you and lets one of them fuck you alongside him

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

not experienced at all. had no clue what he was doing because when he was younger he vowed to himself that because his future wife had to save herself for him that he should do the same for her

F = Favorite position ( goes without saying)

anything that has you on top of him because while he loves being able to throw you around he also loves it when you get dominant with him

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

in the beginning for sure but over time once he learns what he’s doing he’s not as goofy

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

carpet does match the drapes. he’s (surprisingly) quite well groomed. he’s not shaved completely but it’s all very neat down there

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

so so needy. he’s so in love with you and your body it’s like he can’t get enough of you. he’s on the rougher side but he always keeps your pleasure at the front of his mind and doesn’t care nearly as much about his own

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

jacks off so much when you’re just betrothed. he doesn’t want to dishonor you and do anything before the wedding so he keeps to using his hand until then

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

mommy and daddy kink. loves spitting in your mouth and on your pussy. loves choking but would rather be the one getting choked

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

anywhere you could get caught. he loves the idea of knowing that someone could turn a corner and find you shoved against a wall being fucked on his cock or on your knees gagging on him. aegon and aemond have both been victims of this and have both ended up fucking you too

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

everything about you gets him turned on. he loves it when you stand up for yourself against anyone but especially alicent or otto. he loves seeing you in red and black. and as basic as this is, he loves seeing you bent over because he usually gets a great view of your ass or your tits

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

there's not much he wouldn’t do honestly. the main thing i can think of is nothing to do with bodily fluids that aren't spit or cum. most other things he would at least consider before deciding

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

jace LOVES giving. he loves fucking your face but loves when you sit on his more. once he gets the hang of things? he’s a fucking god

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

so fast and rough and needy. he feels like he’s been waiting for you and to be able to fuck you for his entire life (you were betrothed for a matter of weeks) he’s like a dog in heat for a good while after getting married but eventually he can control himself more

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

loves them and wants them all the time. just about to leave for dinner? he’s got his fingers up your skirt and fucking into you within seconds. his mother wants to see him? she can wait he needs to fuck you before he goes

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

as long as he knows for sure you won’t get permanently hurt he’s game for a lot of things

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

god he can go for hours. he’ll start out fingering you before he moves on to fucking your face then eats you out and then finally he fucks you. he’ll do that for as long and you both can stand it

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

toys aren’t really a thing but he has heard a thing or two from aegons nights in the street of silk about jade being carved into the shape of a cock for women to use for their own pleasure. as discreetly as possible he has one made in a very similar shape and size as his. he surprises you with it one night and used it on you for what felt like forever

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

oh he’s the king of teasing you. will do anything to get under your skin

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he’s not super loud but he’s not super quiet either. he grunts and groans and whimpers more than anything

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

he had one of his best orgasms the time that daemon walked in on the two of you. he stood in the doorway smirking as jace fucked into you

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

pretty nice in length, a bit above average and he has a gif but of girth to him too. it curves to the right just slightly

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

so high. he wants to be inside of you all the time. when he’s away for something rhaenyra needed from him he’s thinking about you as he fists his cock every chance he gets

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

passes out so quick, like within minutes. after all he is just human. after all this hours of taking you apart he’s worn out

dividers by : @.cafekitsune

#◜ caitee’𝗌 works ✎ ˚✧ ꜝ #jacaerys velaryon #house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon imagine #jacaerys velaryon drabble #jacaerys velaryon headcanons #jacaerys velaryon x you #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon drabble #house of the dragon x you #house of the dragon headcanons

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ineylesian · 7 months

Text

$TING — GRAVES & ADLER

KINKTOBER PROMPTS | Interrogation

AO3 | MASTERLIST | KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

DEBRIEF | Graves’ and Adler’s means of getting information out of you.

WARNINGS | smut, finger fucking, light choking, use of aphrodisiac, depiction of an unhealthy relationship, fem! reader.

NOTE | this is me holding back from writing Graves & Adler smut where they just bully the reader,, thinking about it but i have self control… included adler for the small handful of people who love him as much as i do 🫶

ADVISORY | NSFW CONTENT BELOW.

GRAVES, FOXY & ADAMANT.

“Didn’t expect to see you out here, sugar.”

His figure is barely visible, carolina hues basking in feverish light. You nearly wince at his tone, all too familiar— memories rush back and you scowl his way.

“Didn’t expect you to chase a paycheck.” You fire back, hands rubbing against thick cord. “You’ve changed.”

Graves steps forward, swallowing the light, staring you down like he’s picked up the scent of prey on the wind. Dust swirls through the air as he bends over, face stopping mere inches from yours. His tongue pokes at the hollow of his cheek, eyebrows knit together, watching.

Something in him still doesn’t understand it. Traces of his life he’s desperately chased whole, right where he wants you. However, something’s different this time. When he looks in your eyes, he can only see the enemy staring back.

It pushes him to no end. Control slips away from his hands and just as he thinks he’s getting somewhere, the chair you sit on hits the floor loudly and you’re pinned against the wall. He sees you smile and his grip tightens, closing around your throat in an attempt to kill the remains of you that float amidst his head.

You keep looking at him, and his resolutions fall against the floor he stands on. The gleam in your eyes reflects off of years passed, and he senses the approach you take before you speak.

“You’re Shepherd’s bitch, Graves.”

Playing dirty, as always.

“I’m no one’s bitch. But you…?” The reply pools off of his lips, cool and relaxed, running a hand down your neck. “Still miss me, Mrs. Graves?”

He smirks, lightly jingling your dog tags.

“You got yourself caught.”

You scoff, shifting against the wall. Graves’ thigh pushes against your pelvis, keeping you in place.

“Wouldn’t have been any fun if you never got what you were looking for.”

His head tilts to the side, eyeing you carefully.

“Are you saying I wouldn’t have been able to find you?”

You lean forward, lips brushing against his. Danger flicks between your gazes, but he doesn’t push away.

“I’m telling you.”

Graves’ lips are rough, as is the grip that holds you against concrete. You writhe in his grasp, moving so your arms can hook around his neck. Gunpowder kisses your tongue, the scent of war tickling your nose as he kisses you. Light stubble scratches your skin, opposed to the clean shave you feel in your dreams.

You allow him to strip you of your belt, canines pressing against the inner flesh of your mouth when he tugs at your fly. A smile creeps along his face, pulling away from your lips to study your face. You’re nearly the same as he remembers, so dangerous, yet holding the same dumbstruck look in your eyes whenever he touches you.

“Ever thought of renewing your vows?”

Rough, padded fingers circle around your clit as he tugs his other gloves off. The noise that comes out of you is caught between a laugh and a moan. Graves smirks at the sound, breath pooling against your neck as he replaces his gloved hand with his bare one.

“Maybe.” You shrug, groaning at the sudden intrusion of his fingers against your cervix. “What’s my price?”

Graves’ fingers rub your walls, and you start to burn up. You direct your gaze to his face, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as his dick considers your question. Sweat gathers at your temple, and you bite down on your hand when he adds another finger.

It feels like it did 10 years ago. You and your husband, holed up in a shitty base in a shitty town fucking like it’s your last day on earth. You reminisce on those days often, back when Graves was still a marine and had a ring sitting on his finger. Back when Shepherd was off his radar, before he took you off of his too.

He looks slightly older; scar lighter on his skin and faint wrinkles crawling against the corners of his eyes. The way he fucks you is still the same, impatient and needy, just how you like it.

Before you know it, your abdomen feels likes it’s twisting into knots and you cry out from the pleasure. A low groan pushes its way out of his throat, canines fastened to his lower lip as his fingers pump in and out of your pussy.

“Another round, maybe?” He grunts out, mindlessly pushing his erection against your naval. “That’s cheap, ain’t it darlin’?”

ADLER, DECEITFUL & COY.

“Package came in from labs, thought you’d wanna see it.”

You round the corner of the hall, seeing Adler perched up against the island in your kitchen. A small, plastic bag sits on the side nearing you, adorned with a CIA label.

“Huh.” You hum, pinching the seal between your fingers. “You know what it’s for?”

Adler shrugs, and you tilt your head in acknowledgment.

“Only one way to find out.”

You can feel Adler’s gaze on you, watching through a pair of clear lensed aviators. He’s leaning against the edge of the counter, seemingly over interested in the contents of the bag. A light crackle emanates from the bag as you open it, and you’re hit with a puff of a silver toned dust.

“Jesus.” You cough, subconsciously dropping the bag to wave a hand through the air. “What the Hell is this, Russ?”

Adler stays quiet, perched up against the wall with his hands folded between his chest. His lack of response tells you all that you need to know, and you scoff.

Then the worry sets in.

You feel a subtle heat crawling up your arms, seemingly moving its way up to your face through your veins. Within seconds, your entire body behinds to tingle. Your body feels hot, almost like you’re covered in layers that are glued to your skin.

The world is loud, nerves burning against your spinal cord as confusion races through your mind. You run your hands through your hair, feeling a distinct sensation pool in your abdomen; it takes root, leaking down to your naval.

Through the rushes of blood in your head, you can hear Adler’s shoes click against the floor. The sound makes your stomach churn with need, and you look at him, standing just a few inches away.

“Adler..” You call, reaching out for him. “Something’s— wrong. Help me..”

You sway, losing balance and falling forward. Adler breaks your fall, holding you against the ridge of his turtleneck. You cling onto him as if you’ll die if you let go, eyes opening only when you feel yourself being set down on the couch.

Adler kneels in front of you, catching the hand that paws at his waist. He runs a hand along your face, lips quirking at the balm encasing his fingers. You reach out again, and he makes no motion to stop you.

“Didn’t see this as an interrogation drug.” He mumbles, allowing you to tug at his zipper. “Fuckin’ freaks.”

Your mind is completely lost to him, focused only on the hem of his jeans. An animalistic desire scalds your nerves, and you whine as he pushes you against the edge of the couch.

“It burns, Russ.” You groan, bucking your hips up as he moves to unbutton your jeans. “I need you…”

“You’ll be okay, sweetheart.”

His hands smooth over your pussy, fingers dragging over your clit, adding a teasing flick as he thinks. You lock your legs around his back, attempting to force him into you as your hands palm his dick. Adler clicks his tongue, slowly pushing one of his fingers into you, deciding to test the waters.

“What did you dream about last night?”

“You.” Your voice comes out strangled, practically squeezing his cock in desperation. “I always do.”

His eyebrows raise in interest, finding this drug more useful than dozens he’s used in the past. Shame it had to be tested on you, though. Or.. maybe he was enjoying this a little more than it seemed.

Adler lets you pull him forward, fingers pulling out of your pussy as you sloppily stuff yourself with his cock. He bites down on his cheek as you rut against his hips, searching for friction.

“Tell me,” He continues, placing a hand behind your back to guide you as he lays down. “What am I doing in your dreams?”

“You’re.. ugh— you’re fucking me, Russ.” You moan, dragging yourself down on his cock. “The real you never has time for me— anymore.”

He tilts his head at your confession, reaching over to the coffee table for a pack of cigarettes.

“We’ll see to that.”

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

#arqhms #🎃 arqhmskinktober23 #🎃 arqhmsfall23 #arqhmsthirst #call of duty modern warfare #graves x reader #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves smut #graves smut #russell adler #adler x reader #russell adler x reader #phillip graves #graves mw2 #call of duty cold war

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lil-quinnie · 9 months

Text

I know who i want to take me home.

Modern!Rockstar!Eddie x f!bestfriend

part II

warnings: 18+

Summary: That time where Eddie stood up for you and you never left his side again,

You've known Eddie since your 4th grade, when some girls were making fun of you for your dress or something stupid like that. Kids could be mean, that Eddie knew.

He'd been teased ever since he arrived in Hawkins a few years ago. When word got around that the kid's shaved hair was because he had head lice or was arrested, he vowed he'd never take that kind of shit in silence again, and so he did.

Eddie already considered himself the savior of the broken, the beats and the damaged.

From the day he threatened to throw mud on the girls' perfectly pressed clothes, you were never apart, ending that summer afternoon with him pushing you on the swing and you sharing ice cream while Eddie talked about how cool it was to live in a park trailer "There are always kids there to play with, you should go meet more friends" Eddie said in his childish squeal.

You were together when Eddie's father got out of prison and disappeared into the world "he better stay away anyway" Eddie had told you with his eyes on the ground, as he walked you back to your house kicking some rocks by the way. It was the first time you held his hand, giving it some squishes every now and then, you could see Eddie’s dimples every time his eyes landed on your holding hands.

You were together when you got your first guitar, realizing that music wasn't really one of your talents but was certainly one of Eddie's, giving your beloved guitar to your best friend, who trained every day and looked forward every Friday before Hellfire to show you some new music he had taught himself, and it wasn't long before he started showing you the songs he wrote.

“Ok…they are really good men, don’t get me wrong, but you are so in love with her that your song got a little…emotional??” Gareth had told the boy after hearing a new composition, rhythm and lyrics! Eddie froze at his friend's words, as if he had said the most secret words in the world "Dude, relax! It's just a song" he shrugged feigning a normalcy that clearly didn't exist, "yeah, sure...just a song" Gareth was smirking, his tone determined to get under the poor metalhead's skin.Eddie looked at the with no reaction, as if he had been caught doing something illegal, and among all the excuses he came up with at that moment, he said the lyrics weren't all about you, he swore to Gareth. “It’s about Chrissy, you know, the blond unreachable cheerleader who goes to our school?, ring any bell? butthead”. Gareth just rolled his eyes and nodded.

You were together when Eddie decided to grow his hair big! And you always supported him, even when his hair didn't look good at all. "You can wear my bandana if you want, it's very metal" you said and shrugged, handing the bandana to a pre-teen Eddie. You didn't want to admit that those little curls that fell across the boy's face did something to the inside of your stomach, which started to feel tight and hot whenever he was around. You couldn't take the feeling in your chest anymore every time your fingers passed through the boy’s hair, blowing a few strands out of his face whenever he played the guitar or tried unsuccessfully to roll a joint, the feeling was so much so that you decided to give him your bandana, explaining how it would help keep the hair out of his face. Eddie just nodded and listened carefully to everything you said.

As soon as he dropped you off at home and you said your goodbyes, instead of lighting a cigarette and walking to the trailer like he did every other day, he preferred to take the walk holding the bandana tightly inside his jacket pocket as if it were the most precious treasure.

Eddie opened his front door in a hurry and as soon as he heard the lock click, he brought the bandana up to his nose, feeling the heady peach scent of your shampoo.

Eddie spent the rest of the night looking at himself in the mirror, trying to fix his headband in the most "metal" way possible, but he swore to Wayne it wasn't to impress you.

Now, a few years later, you were still there when they first called him a freak, you couldn't quite tell what was going through your best friend's mind.

Eddie was loud, he never stayed quiet when they made mean comments even less when it was one made by an idiot jock. But nothing came out of your best friend's half-open mouth. Eddie knew he had different tastes than most, pop music didn't suit his ear, he could play any kind of games if he wanted, with balls or not, but sports were only for Sunday afternoons when Wayne was off and they could spend some time together, but freak?! “Does she see me like that too?” Eddie's head was sinking into a spiral of shame and fear and you grew agonized by not being able to do anything, in a weak act he looked towards the back of the classroom, looking for you.

You never forgot the look he gave you that day, the sad smile printed on his face, making your face burn with anger "Shut your mouth Jason, do n't you have to kiss your teammates ass or something?" you answered back in the middle of class, making everyone laugh. You got a pass straight to detention and a relieved whispered "thank you" from Eddie.

That was your relationship with Eddie, and even after all these years, nothing has changed! well, almost nothing. Eddie kept swearing and playing his undying love for Chrissy in every new song he played to you, always creating imaginary situations and acting out how he would play for her if he had the chance. Despite the bitter taste of jealousy running down your tongue, there's nowhere else in the world you'd rather be.

Sitting on Eddie's bed while he played a few chords and made some silly rhymes to get you a laugh, as the sun went down and you shared a well-rolled joint by Hawkins' newest drug dealer. At that point, you and Eddie were more than friends and the comfortable “family” feeling took over your relationship, even if something always seemed out of place.

You followed all the corroded coffin shows and saw Eddie flirting with every type of groupie possible, which made you wonder if he had ever thought of you that way.

God! The kid didn't have a specific type, even with the male bartenders at Hideout you'd see him flirt, he flirted with literally anything but you.The boys gathered more and more people to watch their shows, the Hideout got smaller and smaller for their talent and charisma and you couldn't be more proud of your boy's accomplishments. But, "with great talent comes great responsibility", or whatever other nerdy shit you thought Eddie would tell you. That is, if he was on your side in the middle of the crowd of sweaty bodies that swayed in sync with his electric guitar chords. Still, no matter how pretty, nice, hot or smooth-talking the person Eddie was flirting with was, at the end of the night it was you he always took home, in the second-hand van Wayne got Eddie for his 17th birthday .

“Hey trouble” Eddie hugged you from behind as you got you both beer, you could feel his skin still wet with sweat and the smell of his cheap cologne invaded your nose “EDS” you hugged him tight still jumping with excitement “My god, you…you all did so well today, fuck it was amazing I'm so proud of you I mean the whole band, here” you handed over the bottle of beer and took a sip from yours to avoid saying something that would leave you still more like a fool. "Yeah, it was kind of good right?!"

Eddie was smiling proudly and scratching his head awkwardly as he saw your big bright eyes looking at him the way you were, he toasted you before just taking a sip of his beer "Come on, I'll get you home before it gets too late ” he said, putting his arms around your shoulders and walking with you to the exit. The drive to the parking lot was short and you couldn't answer all the good-byes people gave Eddie and Eddie's girl, you.

It was your first and very last senior year of high school, and finally Eddie was free from hell high school, you miss him there though.

You got your college acceptance letter, your family was in an uproar, lots of hugs and laughter but your heart was so tight, and you didn't know why. You could barely sleep at night thinking about what life would be like in another city, far from your family, your friends and him. You tried to disguise the dark circles under your eyes with a little makeup, thinking that drugstore concealer would hide all the dark aura that enveloped you that morning, but you should have known better.

You went downstairs as soon as you heard the noisy van turn off the engine, instead of waiting for Eddie to come in and have the daily cup of coffee with your mother and complain about your morning attitude, you took the snacks lovingly prepared by your mother, one for each of you and ran out the door, pulling Eddie along the way and dragging him back to the van “I'm late, no coffee today Munson”, you said in a dry tone, making the newly awakened boy just nod “yes ma'am ” he said getting behind the wheel.

The driveway was quiet and safe and you were comfortable until Eddie started peppering you with questions, you were overwhelmed and told your best friend about your leaving in a few weeks in the worst possible way. He didn't take it very well. "Are you going to leave me here, alone in this shithole?" your teary eyes irritated Eddie more than brought him to reality, it was your choice to leave for college, wasn't it?

The morning ended with you slamming the van door as hard as you could and Eddie skipping school and heading to the abandoned bank in the middle of the woods behind the football field. That day you chose to walk home alone rather than answer your friend who, even not entering the school, was waiting for you outside.Days passed and nothing from your best friend showed up, answered your calls or stopped running through the school corridors trying to avoid you like the plague. "He needs space now" was what Nancy repeated to you every time that happened.

The week dragged on without the presence of your best friend. Now on Friday, Nancy and Robin were trying to convince you to go to your last high school party. “Come on baby girl, it's your last high school party! Fuck Eddie if he's such a sucker for not wanting to enjoy every second he has with you” Robin said in a rather mean attempt at convincing you, “not to mention he'll probably be there, parties are always good for…business” Nancy added knowing that this argument would definitely make you go to this party, you needed to see that the metalhead was fine without you, even if it destroyed his soul.

"Fuck it, fuck him! I'm going to that stupid party!" You said in a sigh, Robin threw her arms up as if thanking heaven for your sudden change of decision, and Nancy just chuckled to herself, knowing the real reason for the change.

You made a point of putting on your nicest black dress, which hugged all of your curves that until now you've never felt the need to show off, a pair of combat boots, and whatever jacket Nancy made you pack just in case.

It was so hot, you didn't know if it was the amount of people dancing to the same rhythm inside Steve's living room or if it was just the cheap beer you weren't used to drinking, pushing the slimy liquid down your throat. You searched the entire party for Eddie with no luck, stopping in the kitchen only to talk to Steve who would pull you out of the crowd making fun of your bothered face. At parties like this you usually stayed outside with Eddie while he went about his business, but the sight of your best friend hitting on a cheerleader forced you to make SUCH a sacrifice as drinking such a horrible warm bear. Of course Eddie had seen you, he saw you as soon as you got out of Nancy's car, walking into Steve's house arm in arm with Robin laughing at some weird thing the blonde had said, of course he noticed the flush in your cheeks and as your eyes wandered over the people passing by, his heart ached to realize that he was the one you were looking for, but he remained professional and ended the transaction with the cheerleader who was so drunk that she didn't show her usual disgust at touching on Eddie, on the contrary, she insisted on keeping her hands on him with every word that came out of her mouth.

It was too much for you, you thought, even though you didn't understand where that sore feeling had come from. Staggering through the halls, you managed to find fresh air and took refuge on the pool deck, the muffled music made your thoughts dance around Eddie, you downed the already warm beer in one go throwing the can across the yard of the Harrington mansion, catching the attention of the school's bad boy, Billy, who was finishing rolling a joint still talking to his drug dealer, Eddie.

"Isn't this your little friend, Munson?" Billy asked, both watching you drunken antics, “yeah, yeah it's her'' Eddie didn't let on that your friendship was at a low point in no time, but Billy was always good at reading between the lines “She's fucking hot, now I get it because you hid her behind that shit you like” he said with a smirk on his face, “you wanted her all to yourself, freak?” Billy laughed as he grabbed another bottle of beer and walked towards you, leaving Eddie alone with the cheerleader who accompanied the entire interaction glued to the boy's arm.

Even from afar, doing "business" with Billy and the popular crowd, Eddie wouldn't take his eye off you, following your every move with lost puppy eyes, Eddie's sad eyes accompanied your dress getting up on your thighs more and more, Billy's hands finding your soft skin, stroking and squeezing as you shared the joint. Eddie's big brown eyes burned as he watched the whole scene like a masochist, and it didn't go unnoticed. "she's just my best friend" he replied for the 1,000th time to a drunken cheerleader who tried to get the boy out of his temper that night. She twisted the end of Eddie's hair between her fingers, closing any distance he put between them.

Eddie saw when Billy approached you, he saw when you laughed at some really bad joke making the blond boy stick out his chest in pride, he saw his hands on your thighs and just when he thought his heart couldn't take it anymore, Billy kissed you. Billy tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear like Eddie had dreamed of doing for years, he caressed your rosy cheeks from alcohol and you gave that shy smile that was usually kept just for him, just for Eddie.

"I can make you forget about her'' said the cheerleader next to Eddie's ear, in a not at all drunken tone anymore,”wait…what?” He said while she was pulling Eddie by the hand to one of the Harringtons' empty rooms. Climbing the stairs with the girl, the last thing Eddie saw before entering the room was you walking hand in hand with Billy out of the pool's deck. He didn't know what was going on with him, in all of his high school time, he wanted nothing more than to be locked up with a cheerleader in a dark room, but now he doesn't feel it's the right choice for him.

Eddie was practically thrown into the room and before he said anything, the girl was already on top of him, her lips tasted like cherry and some drink he couldn't recognize. He wanted to be enjoying it as much as the girl who attacked his neck fervently, but he wasn't. He walked to the window lighting up a cigarette and looking out to the parking cars until he saw you and Billy share more kisses, Eddie doesn't feel like being in that party anymore.

The cheerleader still hadn't given up on taking a piece of the boy. hands roaming his pale body until they found the belt buckle, while she unbuttoned it, Eddie watched you through the window. The girl's hands found Eddie's almost erect member, making her mouth water at the size, even though he wasn't 100% hard for her, Eddie was big. The not-so-drunk girl knelt down in front of him, pulling down his boxers until his dick was showing. She didn't wait to put Eddie inside her mouth, moaning as she felt the taste of him taking over her tongue, "you're so big Eddie” she said before going back bobbing her head, sucking every part of the boy's already hard cock. He surrendered to the cheerleader, letting his head fall back as she devoured him, his hand went to the back of the girl's head, forcing her more and more against his cock "I want to see you touch yourself while sucking me, pretty girl” he said through the weak moans, and so did she. Eddie admired for a while the scene he had imagined for years, a cheerleader on her knees for him with her mouth full of his cock, his hips began to push on her mouth in sloppy movements, she moaned loudly while abusing her own clits.

Everything was going well, until Eddie heard her laugh outside.

He watched as Billy's hands traveled to your hips than to the fat of your ass, squeezing and pressing his body against yours, you could feel Billy's hard cock rubbing against your waist, causing you to pull away at the same moment.

Billy's lips on your neck as he pressed you against the car, your face in discomfort, you tried to get rid of the boy's grip without success, pushing and trying to create any kind of space between your body and his, that was enough for Eddie. He pulled the girl who was sucking his dick up, who didn't understand anything, just looked at him with hate!

From the other side Eddie wasn't sure how to get out of this situation so he just said “I'm sorry doll, if it was another time … i'm so sorry” he said pulling up his pants and running down the stairs with his belt still open, straight to your rescue!

Eddie ran outside the house screaming your name, afraid that Billy had already done something to hurt you, Eddie knew how Billy treated his girls, hell! Everyone knew of Billy's fame and yet, he let the situation get to this level.

Seeing you still trying to get out of the blonde's arms "you're hurting me Billy, let go of me!" You said in a voice choked with fear, Eddie's vision went black and his body moved without any direct order from the boy's brain, it was as if he had blacked out for a few moments. When he came back to reality, you were alone leaning against the car and Billy lying on the ground with blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. “Let’s go” Eddie grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the party as fast as he could make you walk, escorted by Billy’s menacing screams “Run away Freak, that’s what you’re good at!” or “you can keep that little slut, when you get tired of using her, my turn will come”. Eddie thanked every entity that you were so in shock you couldn't hear the blonde's insults. He helped you into the van and put his jacket around your shoulders “are you ok trouble?” he asked as he put the belt around your body “I missed you” was what came out of your mouth, Eddie chuckled and shook his head in denial “unbelievable” he thought, closing the van door and taking you to the security of your home. It didn't really matter how many people Eddie flirted with or got involved with, at the end of the night, it would always be you he was going to take home, both of you knew that.

The next morning, a big glass of water, some headache pills and a sleeping metalhead were the first things you saw when you opened your eyes, before your head started hurting like a bitch. You took the pill and gently woke your best friend “here, before you get a headache”, Eddie thought it was cute that you thought he needed the same minimum amount of alcohol as you to get sick, but how could he say no if you were standing there in front of him, looking so pretty and trying to take care of him? “Thanks, my head it’s killing me.” He said, taking the pill. Eddie could see Billy's finger prints on his biceps, making his stomach roll in anticipation.

Leading him to bed and closing the curtains, making almost nothing in the room visible.

You laid your aching body next to your best friend, the familiar smell of weed and cigarettes made you feel at home, Eddie feeling your body relax pulled you close to him, finally laying spoon with you, after all those years laying together, this was the first he spooning you and the feeling was so warm and comfortable…

"I'm sorry trouble" "shh eddie, it's too early for this" turning over in bed, coming face to face with your best friend, you could feel Eddie's uneven breathing on your cheeks. You buried your face in your best friend's chest, closing your eyes as he pressed you against his body "I love you eddie" you whispered almost inaudibly, not for him.

Eddie paid attention to every word that came out of his mouth and this time was no different. The difference came in how the heat rose through his body, he could hear his heart beating so hard against his ribcage that he was afraid to wake you up. He didn't go back to sleep that morning, nor did he move until you woke up. He also didn't say he heard you or that he loved you too, he just lay there enjoying every second he had before you left.

Now, 5 years later, many corroded coffin tours and phone conversations, here was Eddie again, where all his paths always led, you. Eddie got a few days off before the new tour started, in 5 years the band did great, opening shows for bands that Eddie dreamed of one day watching the show from the front row, but at that time, he opened the show for his favorite bands. They were destined for success, he was and you always knew it. Now with an audience of their own, Corroded Coffin were one of the most prestigious metal bands in the scene, traveling on extensive tours around the world and always returning to the warmth of their embrace.

"Did you really like it Eddie? I mean, it's no palace but" you shrugged, holding the contract in both hands as the late afternoon light streamed in through the apartment's large windows.

Eddie had never seen you look so beautiful, he thought ."I love it" he said with that crooked smile that has affected you since... forever,

"it suits you dear and it's close to the school where you work, I mean, having the best of both worlds, right?" you bit your bottom lip trying to contain the happiness. The contract was duly signed and delivered to the real estate agent on the same day. The apartment was perfect, just a little chilly at night, "my feet are cold" you texted Eddie every night before you fell asleep, the lack of your response didn't make Eddie mad or worried, he knew you just passed out in the warm of your bed with furry socks trying to keep your feet warm. The mental image Eddie created in his head of you in your hibernating state made him smile every time.

In the middle of winter Eddie came to visit you, with a big box in his hands, you could see that the man was exhausted from all the shows an shit. You never imagined that he would visit you! Your plush pajamas and your fluffy socks say so...for Eddie, your prettier version.

Sitting on the couch, Eddie opened the box and took out a black kitten "It's Sir Bartlomeow" he said with a trembling voice trying to contain his laughter "Since I'm going to be away all winter, this little guy here” bart meowed in response, as if agreeing with the man's statement, making you both laugh “will be the new one in charge of keeping the helpless damsel's feet warmed" you chuckled and thanked him for the unusual gift, instantly falling in love with the kitten and more and more with your best friend.

Two weeks, it had been two weeks since Eddie had gone on his European tour, texting between shows and the countless parties a rockstar needed to attend. Eddie loved the star life, the craziness of the roads and the crowds of people screaming his name, waiting for him, but nights like this, all he could do was miss you. "Hey trouble, I hope you’re ok, is Sir Bart treating you well? I hope so…, I miss you, you know... I can't wait to watch shrek 2 with my favorite person, I have to go , see you in two weeks...yeah?!, bye sweetheart" said the message that lit up your cell phone screen as you laughed at your kitty vet's unfunny jokes, making your heart hurt a little.

It was the first Friday since he'd been away and the usual movie night with his girlfriends turned into a conversation about his frustrated love life.

"I know Nance, I should have replied to Eddie's damn text but what was I going to say?" you said to Nancy over a glass of your favorite rose wine "I miss you too, in fact I miss you every time you haven't been around me since... forever" you downed the glass in agony as Nancy laughed along with Robin. "I mean" Robin began, causing you to roll your eyes in displeasure. "It’s Eddie!, Rockstar or not, he's been in love with you since high school, come on!" earning an elbow from Nancy "ouch babe" Robin whispered.

"It's not like he's not in the arms of some super model right now" your tone was low as you took in every detail of that magazine cover, throwing it on the coffee table allowing the girls to see the gigantic picture of YOUR best friend almost swallowing the face of a very beautiful woman. "But what about the vet, he seemed nice" Nancy offered with an empathetic smile on her lips.Turning the cover of the magazine over, you shrugged “yeah, maybe I'll accept his invitation to dinner, who knows?”.

A/N: Thank you so much @squidscottjeans for all the patience and tips <3

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #modern!eddie #best friends to lovers #eddie x you #eddie x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader smut #Eddie my love #eddie munson fanfic

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dozing-marshmallow · 7 months

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Hi :3 I read your Ezekiel x reader and I was sooo happy! I wanted to ask if you could do a second part to the Ezekiel x yandere reader xP thank you and your writing is soooooo good!!!!!

Hiyaaa!💗 Thank you so much for complimenting my writing! I’m so happy to hear you enjoyed the first Ezekiel x reader! I hope you enjoy this part two!❤️

EZEKIEL X YANDERE! HOUSEWIFE! READER HEADCANONS (PART 2)

Married life was magical when you got the love of your life to think the same of you in his life.

Getting to fold all the clothes you bought for yourselves, wash and iron, drowning your nostrils in his scent.

That enchanting scent.

You keep all the hair you find of his whenever you’re changing the bedsheets or vacuuming the floors.

You devote an area of the bedroom to a shrine crafted for him, including your wedding dress and his groom suit.

You have to be selfish sometimes.

Every time he comes back home, you press your lips all over him.

Every dinner is made in accordance to what he craved for that day or week, and you always found a way to make the food spell out his name or outline his face.

You play love songs in the background. To make it more romantic, you tried burning incense once however when Ezekiel began coughing and his eyes went watery, you disposed of it right away to never use again.

For the first few days of living together, you brushed his teeth for him after being alerted that Ezekiel had no clue which direction he was meant to follow for cleaning teeth.

So you happily took it upon yourself to enforce the importance of hygiene.

Bubble baths everyday.

In turn, you got to drink his bathwater and lick his deodorant.

Lemony...

Nonetheless, you take care of his shaving for him, that being marked for.

Every evening, you would also renew your wedding vows.

"Holmes I can't lie to you...” he stretches his arms up,“But I'm a bit wiped out today. Do' think we can skip the vows today and have din dins early?"

"Skip vows today?” you gasp, couldn’t believe what you were hearing,“How do you expect me to stay sane if we skip vows any day? You know how much this means to me darling! Please? I feel terrible for asking anything of you, but can you pull through? I promise I’ll make a larger portion of supper tonight!"

Every evening.

All walls in that house is occupied by at least ten picture frames of Ezekiel.

He frequently wonders what you do for a living, since surely housekeeping wasn’t hectic enough for you to take care of majority of the bills and vacations.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about my love.” you assure him, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Any day, anniversary or birthday, you arrange getaways at the expensive tourist destinations like Dubai, United States, Brazil, Kenya, Australia, England at the best hotels and best plane seats.

Whenever he falls ill, you refuse to let him do anything and confine him to the marriage bed.

At moment’s command, you are right there.

Heating pad, tissues, soup, vomit bucket, ice cream, cold water.

Ezekiel actually didn’t know what hospitals were, making him more reliant on you- or how you called it, bonding.

Knew that nursing course would pay off!

You loved being the only one he could really depend on.

But it feels that something’s missing.

Nothing about possessions or housing. You had done everything. But it’s something. Something greater than money.

It became clearer with every single turning down of Ezekiel’s suggestion about inviting his family over or going on a day trip to visit them, the one thing you refuse to grant him.

Family.

Of course. It was the thing bumping this wistful pacemaker in his behaviour.

Ezekiel... Your darling...he’s lonely.

You were both bound to be maternally and paternally deprived eventually. How you wished you were like him, whose came later.

It’s for his own good. A man and a woman is supposed to vacate their parents. Staying in touch with them would only have him getting used to seeing them and depending on them which would be more painful in the long run when they die.

Maybe now was the time to take their places, and conceive what would plant both the McLean and Miller family trees forward to see another generation.

Now?

You blush at the thought.

“I’m not so sure, bird...” your darling husband scratches the back of his neck, “When I was growing up back on the farm, my daddio was also here to raise me. If I have to go out being a rockstar everyday, the little ones might not know who their dad is. Besides, a man is needed around to raise strong children. Even the gal ones.”

“We can take turns!” you involuntarily latch yourself on top of him.

Ezekiel still hasn’t gotten used to this form of treatment, but trusts you enough to allow it,“My ma said pregnancy changed her life, eh?”

“How mine’s changed before it!” you adoringly play with a strand of his brown hair,“When I first saw you, my soul felt complete and my void was no more. I had never felt love stronger than you and now, I physically can’t survive without you.”

“Poetic, eh?” he gruffly laughs, your feelings going over him,“Not sure if that’d help in parenting, yo. Don’t wanna accidentally teach the girls it’s their world to be yappin’ in.”

Your response is a placid remark of your own femininity,“How beautiful my body is.“ an old nursery rhyme wraps your words,“Two loonies make a toonie, now aren’t I a scholar?”

Sleep well while you can, husband!

#tdi x reader #total drama #tdi #request #yandere reader #total drama ezekiel x reader #total drama ezekiel #td ezekiel

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randomfoggytiger · 2 years

Text

X-Files Collector’s Edition: I Want to Be Leaves (Fall Fics)

**Credit to LilyDaleXF’s yearly reblog meme**

Time for fall fics! Apples, markets, changing colors, spicy scents, snappy weather-- and FBI agents sporting layered sweaters and cozy feelings.

May the Fictober season bring upon us more fall fics. All hail the fall fics!

(**Edit: Correcting many, MANY mistakes. And adding more fic!**)

Pattie’s Absconded

““Blow your stack, Scully. But the accounts here of power drainage, water suddenly leaving pools, ponds and reservoirs in 'beams' are all consistent with some sort of aircraft performing some act perhaps you haven't seen, but those people have." He handed another stack of folders to his partner. "Keep reading. And look at the pictures, too. The reports with pictures are always more fun to read. After sunset, we're going out to watch the night sky.””

Early S1 kicks off fall vibes with Scully less-than-enthusiastically helping Mulder investigate a power plant where multiple workers have been seeing UFOs.

Kelly Keil’s (FFN) Only Apples (FFN)

““When he picks her up, she asks again about their destination but he remains mute. With resignation she joins him in the car, prepared for a long journey.

Mulder drives the car further and further from civilization, whistling tunelessly through his teeth. Scully sits beside him, thinking how much she dislikes surprises. Neither speaks.

As the miles fly by, she fingers her old flannel shirt and stares down at her worn boots. Brilliant red and gold trees flash by her window and geese fly south for winter against a vivid blue sky.””

Scully has lost sight of life in the drudgery of the mission. Mulder surprises her with a trip to an autumn orchard, reawakening her passion.

Tinysmolfluff’s Autumn Coffee

““Can we go for a walk? – he asked quietly and she was about to protest that it’s freezing outside, but there was something vulnerable in his eyes, something urgent, so she just nodded and they left the café. They walked away from it, the dry leaves crunching under their shoes, the cold fall air picking at their faces.””

Set after Redux II, Scully is woken up by Mulder, who wants to see her. Both are still vulnerable after her close shave with death.

@mchalowitz’s (Ao3) Free Falling from Branches

““That, over there,” he says, holding out his cup. He nods toward a tree in the distance. “Is that not a perfect, untouched pile of leaves?””

Mulder dumps he and Scully in a leaf pile. Scully loves him but doesn’t make a move... yet.

@wexleresque/hllsteeth’s do you think I’m spooky?

““Scully pauses, thinking. “It’s interesting how nature can make death seem so elegant,””

Scully ponders on death; and both she and Mulder vow (in their own ways) not to leave the other behind.

Erin M. Blair’s Autumn Falls

““She turned to face Mulder, still holding the leaf in her hand. "Mulder," she asked, not yet willing to look at him fully. "Do you remember what you said a few years ago...about how things were going to change for us?”"

AU after The End-- Mulder and Scully observe the fall leaves soon after the burning of their office. Scully recalls his words at the end of Tooms, and both reflect that these changes can be good, too.

@baronessblixen’s (Ao3)

The Sweetest Taste

““They’re quiet, comfortably so, listening to the sound of leaves crunching under their boots. A few new ones fall to the ground, the trees bidding them goodbye.

“It’s beautiful,” Scully says, her voice as magical as the colorful foliage.”“

Mulder takes Scully to Farmer’s Market while gazing. He makes the first move after apple eating, leaf watching, and companionable shopping.

A Day As Sweet As Pie (Ao3)

““I'm in charge of the eggs," William says, pointing at the carton. He's been watching them like a hawk for days, afraid Mulder would use them to make scrambled eggs. That happened last week and William has vowed to never let the eggs out of his sight again.

"You are, egg man," Mulder says and the boy giggles.””

Will is SO excited to make Maggie’s pumpkin pie recipe for her; and his parents help him make up the recipe and keep his impatience at bay.

@skylandmountain1013’s (Ao3) Seasons

““Without warning, Mulder scoops up a pile of leaves and tosses them in her direction. They smell like dirt and rain and crunch as they fall around her feet. Three stick in her hair like a makeshift crown.””

Mulder invites Scully out to fall festival to highlight the new shift in their relationship. Short fluff ensues.

@astridncs’s (Ao3) Lunch Date (Ao3)

““They bought food from the little deli that was near their office. A quaint little place that sold really good sandwiches and salads, and sweet potato pie that has Mulder buy two slices of. He insists the other one isn't for him, but Scully knows better.””

Scully pouts until Mulder agrees to enjoy the outside fall weather. He lends her his coat, and cheekily sets up date (even though they’re already dating.)

@debbierhea/theexfilesbabe/iamalittleonedge’s

Unnamed

““Hey,” he says, and pulls back to look at her. “You okay? I asked what the plan is, G-woman.” She nods conservatively but her eyes give away her excitement.

“Apple picking, G-man.””

Early into their new relationship, Scully is excited to wake Mulder early to go apple picking. Both enjoy teasing each other and pouting playfully.

Unnamed

““The moment she walked up the steps and took a deep breath, turned to him and said, “It’s perfect,” was the moment he realized just how much time they had spent being upset and stressed. She looked ten years younger that day, with a braid hanging over her shoulder.””

Pre-IWTB-- Mulder watches Scully happily sinking into their new domesticity.

@msrafterdark’s (Ao3) Sugar

““He catches the blissful aroma of home as soon as he walks in her door: sugar and cinnamon and vanilla. He had wondered why she’d be calling him in the middle of a Sunday afternoon with a voice of purpose requesting he drop by.””

Scully invites Mulder over for cookies. Both are touched by their first, intentional exchanges of love.

Red’s Autumn

““As the light faded, the air grew colder and the hairs on her arms stood up, goosepimples disturbing the smoothness of her pale skin. A cool breeze bothered a cluster of leaves near her feet, tossing them carelessly around her for several long seconds. Her shadow slowly blended into the grey shadows of the evening, the waning moon gradually rising in the sky and bathing her in milky-white light.””

Set Season 8-- Scully stares at the stars, alone, wondering where Mulder is.

A Baroness Blixen lovely anon

““But Will seems happy with his snails. He shows one to his parents and declare « this one a boy. His name is Will. »””

William and his parents enjoying fall and snails. As they should.

@juniperphoenix’s (Ao3) Autumnal (Ao3)

““Charlie and I used to play in leaf piles when we were little. We pretended we could swim in them.” A pile this size would have seemed an ocean. “Did you ever do that?”

“No, but I used to hide under the leaves so I could spy on people.””

Mulder pounces, buries Scully in leaf pile. Autumn is Scully’s favorite season; and both share their childhood memories.

@avocadoave’s (Ao3) Pumpkin Guts and Other Stuff (Ao3)

““You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Mulder, your arms have taken on an orangeish hue from cleaning out so many pumpkins. When I took the garbage out last night there were, I don’t know, 12 mangled ones in the can.””

Set sometime IWTB-- Mulder uses pumpkins to plan his surprise proposal.

@monikafilefan’s (Ao3)

Language of Love - Chapter 13

““You cheated, Mulder. Even so, you’re warm so I’ll let it go.””

Post Revival-- Scully unable to dodge Mulder’s “gotcha”; but is still rewarded with wonderful foot rubs.

Unnamed Prompt

““I know you’d laugh at me and tell me, ‘Dana you should know by now my spirit is not with my body.” But you know me, having a tangible place to visit and talk to you brings me comfort when I really need you. And this time I don’t need my sister to unload my burdens on, this time I want to tell you only good news in person. Today’s a special day.”

She reached out, running her finger along each letter to spell out the word, Melissa.””

Scully visits Melissa’s grave to update her on life and the birth of her daughter. Mulder stealth-surprises her with their napping baby.

@lotsoforangesoutside’s The Season of the Soul

““So, though in his childhood and into his early adulthood, autumn was often defined by that one thing which shaped his personality and his quest, it had been redeemed.””

Mulder’s enjoyment of autumn-- like many things in his life-- was destroyed by the losses he’d received; but having Scully, and now his daughter, to experience it anew reignites his fondness.

ImWatchingTheMagician’s Pumpkin

““Hey hey little bear” Mulder scoops the girl up, before she can release her –almost- 2 year old destructive behavior on Siegel’s pumpkins.””

Mulder and Scully’s have to head-off their precocious toddler from running rampant through a pumpkin patch because of the lofty glare of its farmer.

Enjoy!

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sparrowsfall · 2 years

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‘ god, we’re so lucky to have each other. ’

He doesn't remember how he got here.

Pike’s distant bark is enough to startle him. A quiver of the shoulders and a whine of the cool evening wood against his back soon to follow, as he quietly presses himself further away from the scene before him. All summer-dry grass bathed in dusty golden hour light. The edges of his vision have begun to blur, squinting eyes made straw-yellow by the blooming cataracts. He blinks once. Twice. Three times. Trying to gain both focus and understanding, sore attempts to identify the last few hazy silhouettes as they file into their homes.

... Home. He wants to go home.

Wrinkled hands grip the sea-damp edge of the porch swing, at the ready for the push-off and up onto his boot-clad feet, until he feels something. Someone. Wrapping thin, sun-spotted arms around the crook of his elbow. Calm washes over him like the low and lazy tide, the fog bank of his mind lifts, and clarity takes hold as the sweetest voice he’s ever heard, the voice he knows better than any other, breaks through the murk as easy as high-noon sun.

‘ God we’re lucky to have each other. ’ Mildred always had a knack, a gift, for giving his own thoughts life, as if she could somehow read his mind. Yet another testament to just how well-matched they are. And he could sit and lament about their lost ability to truly explore it. He could. But with the way she’s looking at him now --- all pretty brown eyes shining up at him through her coke bottle glasses, all beaming smile that scrunches up her crow’s feet and laugh lines --- he can’t find the audacity in himself to wallow. There is so much beauty to be found in her antiquity, and John still looks at her as though she’s the single most radiant thing he’s ever laid his eyes on, because she is. Every little age spot and wrinkle and patch of soft loose skin a memory of a life well-lived. As a mother of his child, as his soulmate, as his very best friend. A life he could not be fully present for, no, but a life he was hardly absent for, either. Their entanglement lied somewhere in the between, an abundance of love and passion packed into modicums of time they could steal. And though his heart will always ache for more, for now, he decides to be grateful that their worlds collided at all. A life without Millie Gunning? He’s certain it would hardly be a life worth living.

“ We are... ” His lips pressed to her forehead, he speaks against her powdery skin, his voice scuffed by age but the reverb strong as ever. “ I thank God for leading me here every day. Leading me to you. ” Words are soon sealed with a chaste kiss at her brow. Golden hour turns to blue, their neighbors far too tired and content in their den chairs to pay the island’s eldest any true mind. What trouble can two eighty-somethings cause, anyway? Benefit of the doubt works in their favor, allows John to rest his chin atop her thinning white hair. They are left unnoticed, unbothered, as she scolds him for needing a shave and makes him laugh the hardest he has all week. Saccharine and belly-deep. Some things never change.

Something is happening to them. This he knows to be true. Millie brushes off her requests for walks to her house as time to catch up. And while he doesn’t doubt this, he can tell that she’s beginning to forget. Names of neighbors, faces of friends, where she lives. There’s a subtle fear in her eyes whenever she asks, a fear he is intimate with. He feels it too. He’s heard Warren and Ooker muttering behind his back in the sacristy, worried chatters of how he’s been stuck in loops of consecrations and gospel re-readings. How he keeps losing track of a ritual that should come as second nature. Forgetful he is, deaf he is not.

But as long as he knows where Millie’s house is, he solemnly vows that he’ll be the dutiful shepherd and keep leading her back. Keep spending summer afternoons out on the porch with her. Keep braiding her hair, or clasping her necklace, or opening her jars when the island cold aggravates the ache in her wrists. And he’ll happily keep holding her in his arms, so that they both might get through these days a little more calmly, a little less afraid.

He doesn’t remember how he got here, but clearly, he is home.

#dementia /#confessions.#book ii.#mildredgunning / you were never a sin.#mildredgunning #:') old people in love hours

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thetravellingvagrant · 5 months

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Day 1: In Which A Bully (With Incredibly Fresh Breath) Spits Into My Mouth

In preparation for this years trip I decided - for the first since I wrote a good portion of them – to re-read my previous blog entries and while, yes, they were very funny and great and you should immediately hire me to write pithy and scathing anecdotes for your old-timey print media company publications, the thing that really stood out to me within them was how terrifyingly and stressfully late I apparently always am for everything. I don't think, in the entire 11 year history of this blog, that I have once caught an international bus or flight without doing that awkward half-run-half-walk thing whilst simultaneously repeating the phrase “oh jeez” under my breath.

“Not so, this year!” I vowed, smugly, as I pawed through the annals of places I had been and kebabs I had eaten, seemingly every single day I had been travelling, without exception. “My flight is at ten to two in the afternoon and there is a bus directly from my door to the bus station and then from the station to the airport. There is literally nothing that could stop me from comfortably reaching my destination in a timely manner, today, thank you very much.”

I checked the clock – reading the final flurry of blog entries had taken an hour longer than I expected or had realised. Oh jeez.

Now in...I suppose a bit of a rush, I hurriedly smashed every t-shirt I own – all six of them – into a bag, along other, presumably equally important possessions of mine and darted into my bathroom to shave in a rush as I had started to look a bit like a Victorian factory owner and also because fuck having anything even approaching a beard in any kind of heat, whatsoever. Badly gashing up my face only once, I stepped out of the bathroom four minutes poorer in time, but the face of one teenage Swedish girl the richer.

albeit a bleeding one

I ran-walked my way to the first bus of the day going “oh jeez” a lot, vowing to at least make good on my resolution not to eat a kebab a day while I was away, even if controlling my punctuality in any – even the most minimal – sense was clearly a ludicrous pipe-dream which I was a fool to have thought possible, and just about squeaked on the bus that I needed to get before real panic would have set in so it was fine, anyway, actually, and I'll just keep on being how I am, thanks.

Once deposited like a pellet from a friendly cloaca into the teeming, filthy river of people that is Buchanan Bus Station, I boarded my net bus of the day and was quickly ferried airport-ward. This was all going suspiciously smoothly. Fan of the blog will be aware of the 'first day curse', which usually blights the initial stages of one of these trips, where I miss a connection or get yelled at by a racist or something, but – as yet – nothing bad had happened, and that, in and of itself had put me on edge.

Suspicious, but gladdened to not have been fucked about by the gods of travel, for once, I arrived at Edinburgh airport in great time and, after eating a halloumi wrap I didn't really want but couldn't bring through security, got my body and belongings scanned by an unfriendly jobsworth and found myself sitting in the departure lounge, not really sure what to do with all this spare time, I had found. I decided to sit, motionless, staring at a nearby clock. Baby steps, innit.

Eventually, I found myself in the queue for the shitty little Ryanair flight which would carry me to my first destination of the trip. Seconds away from passing the final security check, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and found myself gazing into the botoxed, yet still quite ugly, face of some awful Ryanair branded bootlicker.

“You'll need to check the size of your bag.” she oozed, through poorly painted lips and a fake smile.

I have been travelling with this bag since the beginning of The Travelling Vagrant and beyond and never once had I been asked to check its size. It fit. Fuck off. Humouring her, I left my hard fought and, really, pretty choice positioning in the queue and showed her that – yes – my bag did meet the size specifications, if you ...squeezed it down a bit.

“Not that one” She gurned, motioning to the hole of the bag-size-checking-thing, in which I had docked my rucksack. “The one at the top”.

The hole at the top of the checker was the size of a handbag. A small handbag.

“If you could check it in there, please, sir!”

I looked at the hole, then at my bag, then at her

“...Well obviously it's not going to fit in that, is it.” I replied.

“In that case, it'll just be over here to my colleague to take your payment; it'll be £46.99 today, thank you!” and with that she tottered away, ungracefully, on her ugly wedge heels to ruin someone else's day. A lot of other people's days, actually. People were being plucked left, right and centre from the queue to play out the pantomime of pretending that their bag might, conceivably, if you squint, be the same size as a small briefcase, but none of them were. Obviously.

Confused, I googled Ryanair's luggage policy, which seems to have changed since the last time I was unfortunate enough to fly with them. Apparently now the overhead storage lockers are reserved for priority passengers, only and any luggage you wish to take on board has to fit under the seat in front of you, if you're not one of the golden elite. To clarify, Ryanair deem bringing your luggage with you on a flight to be a privilege and not – as any right minded person would assume, part of the absolute minimum requirements of their terms of service. I have long since used the (great) analogy that buying a priority boarding pass for Ryanair I like buying a breath-mint for a bully who's about to spit in your mouth. It looks like my breath will be minty fresh from now on. The disgusting, moneygrubbing, evil cunts.

Also worth noting is that in order to make the payment to just bring my stuff with me, I needed to use the same debit card with which I had purchased the ticket initially. Fine for me, though as I finally crossed the security checkpoint, nearly £50 lighter, I overheard a distraught Indian couple who had not brought such a card with them and as such, were not being permitted to fly, if they wanted to bring their luggage with them. When a core part of your company's regulations routinely (I presume) leave people crying and desperately calling their families to hastily re-schedule or entirely cancel plans in an airport's departure lounge, maybe your regulations are bordering on dystopian. Food for thought. Also shit for food. Eat my shit, Ryanair.

As a final indignity, I had been told that my luggage would have to be placed in the hold because who fucking knows, and that I should remove any laptops, tablets, medication or valuables from it before it was taken, which, yes, was basically all my luggage was. So I was expected to sit on the flight, just holding a mountain of my own stuff on my lap, after paying £47 so they could put six of my t-shirts in the hold. Genuinely incredible. In the end, I just hid the tag that they had affixed to my bag under a flap of my jacket, brought it on the flight and put it in an overhead locker, anyway, without a single problem or bit of hassle. Was a fuck waiting an extra half an hour at the luggage carousel.

Fuck you, I win.

I took my seat on the plane (randomly allocated, of course, because being allowed to sit with your friends is a luxury, too, apparently), furious to have paid so much money to such a shit company for no reason beyond them just wanting it and tried to settle in as best I could. Someone was eating an orange, directly behind me. Of course they were. Fuckin' Ryanair, man...

After enduring the surprisingly long flight with little more to complain about, save the chubby man next to me coughing himself inside out and then back in again and – owing to my randomly allocated aisle seat – the stewardesses rolling the refreshment trolley into my knee fifteen times a minute, I was pooted out into Lisbon airport. From here, everything went remarkably smoothly – my quick feet and forceful elbows saw me getting through passport control in literally a matter of seconds and thanks to an incredibly conveniently placed metro station, I was in the city, proper and faced with a scant twenty minute walk, in a straight line, right to my hostel, which I undertook gleefully – my legs having been curled into little Fibonacci spirals on public transport for most of the trip. I walked through some lovely warm rain with something of an uncharacteristic pep in my step – I may even have described myself as... not happy, let's not go crazy, here, but content, I suppose? The journey had been relatively easy and stress-free and I hadn't had to run or panic once. It appeared that I had bested the curse of the first day, this year. With the obvious exception of Ryanair, who are shit.

After a short walk through a nice city, I had reached my hostel and...the doors were locked. And huge. And intimidating. The rain, at this point, had drifted from 'fun novelty' to 'soggy grundies' territory and I really did want nothing more than to have a bit of a lie down. Sighing, I checked the surrounding area for signs that I was in the right place. I found this in the form of a weirdly well concealed buzzer, though, on which, the only sign that the building housed a hostel was a sticker next to one of the buttons reading “NOT A HOSTEL”

I'm on the right track!

One of my key resolutions with this trip was to be less timid about things – not to discard plans wholesale because the doors to museums were closed, to just go into shops and cafes and just ask for things I wanted rather than standing outside, crippled by the awkwardness of speaking to someone who definitely knew English, perfectly, anyway; to just press on random door buzzers and see what happens. And so I did.

“Hello?” came the reply. Not the best start – no “hello, hostel speaking” or anything reassuring like that.

“Hi, I have a reservation?” I replied, opting to follow not the best start with an equally suboptimal continuation.

“Ah, okay, come in.”

the door buzzed open. Fair enough. I'm gonna press random keys on every buzzer I see now, because that was easy as shit and only good things came from it.

I was greeted by a quiet, albeit extremely friendly little Indian feller who worked at the hostel. He checked me in very politely and quickly and even kept referring to me as “Mister Lawrence” - which was very delightful, if slightly uncomfortable – and soon I was left alone in my genuinely quite nice digs for the net few days. It was, surprisingly and contra to the booking.com reviews, really quite clean, spacious and comfortable. I didn't even mind the shared toilet situation.

I'll be in private accommodation for the majority of my trip – another contributing factor to this vagrancy being on easy mode – which wasn't a conscious choice to give myself something nice for once, but rather down to the fact that a shit private room – which I am willing to endure, gladly, Tariq. And your fire ants. - was hovering around the same cost as a good dorm room anyway in this crazy expensive little country, and it's neighbour. So, not willing to put myself in something like a 20 man dorm just to save an extra five euros a night, circumstances have dictated that I get lots of nice privacy and to walk around all in my pants. I'm not sorry.

Done, entirely to completion, I couldn't relax into the night quite yet. I was hungry and, sticking to my resolution, I wasn't going to get a kebab. I would be smart and industrious and go to a local supermarket and get a bunch of stuff I could reuse and that wouldn't make me feel like someone had broken into my mouth during the night to start an illegal tire fire when I woke up.

I googled nearby supermarkets and headed out to one that sounded promising and – crucially – was only two minutes walk away.

This supermarket was possibly the worst I have ever visited. Run, as it was, by a very grumpy little man and stocking next to nothing. Or, rather, I suppose that's not fair – it stocked loads of some things; tonnes of spices, loads of shower gel (though almost no other toiletries) an insane amount of instant noodles; like three full aisles full of instant noodles and a random assortment of shitty homeware - disposable roasting tins, napkins and small plastic spoons (only small ones, though. No big ones. That'd be a mental thing to stock.)

I looked around for ages even the most rudimentary building blocks of a basic meal, but found none. No bread, no cheese, no meat, no vegetables (beyond a tray of wilting tomatoes and a single courgette), but being too tired to google and walk to another supermarket, I decided to just piece together a meal from what I could find.

“Can I help you?” the man asked. To be fair, I had been there ages.

“Oh uh. I'm just looking for...anything” I replied. The man seemed annoyed, but honestly, his shop was shit.

“Like what?”

“...Like, cheese or...”

“No cheese. Only this” he pointed to milk. Right. Not quite the same.

“...Alright, thanks. I'm just having a little look around” I beamed. This seemed to...not placate him – he still seemed furious, but what was he going to do? Eject me from his shop for browsing? Jog on.

Eventually I left with an armful of the least worst food I could find, for which I paid a frankly staggering price and returned home to what may be the most insane meal I have ever eaten.

For the morbidly curious, it is a slices canned hotdog and pickle wrap with garlic mayo and it was repellent.

And afterwards, with my guts quivering ominously, I went to bed for a bibble and a big, nice sleep. Fuck Ryanair.

#travel #travelling #vagrant #portugal #lisbon #photography #ryanair #ryanair are shit #hostel #rain #ahh

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just-absolutely-super · 5 months

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Wedding crack

Last part

The wedding day comes and it goes without any bumps in the roads.

Lan and Mayl weren't nervous or stressed and were just happy to finally be married

But before that they had to calm down two very nervous and stressed NetNavis

Roll: I triple checked that everything is in place, no decor missing, the music is in place and no songs are missing and the cake has arrived

Mega: same here, I checked several times that the catering had enough food and beverages for everyone, Lan's tux is in great shape and no heelies in sight and that the seating arrangement hasn't been messed with

Roll: I have even removed all red wines from the venue until later so no one can accidentally spill it on Mayl's dress

Mega: I made sure that Lan was 100% shaved today so he doesn't look like a hobo on the pictures

Lan: okay, that's enough of you two

Mayl: you've done a great job, now you should go and relax

Lan: we would offer you some champagne or some other alcoholic drink to calm your nerves, but you can't drink it so

Mayl: what Lan tries to say is we got it from here. Thank you for supporting us through all of this and helping us plan

Lan: even if you two weren't a fan of a backyard wedding

Mega: I'll try to relax now.

Roll: we still are going to check up on things for you

Mayl gives her a stern look

Roll: but we'll calm down and enjoy the party

Mega: now you two should get going and get married already

The ceremony begins and even though Mega and Roll are still visibly stressed because this is it, they're trying to keep calm demeanors

The guests are all seated and politely watching. Yuichiro and Haruka are beaming with pride on the groom's side, Haruka dabbing her wet eyes

The priest is centered and Lan and Mega have made it to their spots

Mega: You nervous?

Lan: I should ask you that

Mega: I'm fine, this is all about you now. I'm so proud of you, Lan

Lan: Thanks, Hub. It means a lot for you to be here with me in this moment

The music gets louder as the main event occurs. Rush comes down the isle first, throwing flower petals down

Mega: Did Mayl have to insist on Rush being flower dog?

Lan: Well, you gotta admit it's cute

Roll comes in next, looking radiant in a dark pink dress. She and Mega don't take their eyes off each other until she's in her place on the opposite side of them and the wedding march begins

Mayl finally comes out looking so damn beautiful. Lan has the biggest grin on his face, and he feels his eyes water. Mayl's fighting back happy tears as well (Roll silently thanking the foresight to use waterproof mascara) and once she makes it to Lan, they grip each other's hand tightly

The priest does his own speech, talking about marriage and long lasting love. Mayl and Lan share their own personal vows and by this point everyone is getting emotional in their own way. Mega takes out the rings to give to the bride and groom for the exchanged

Priest: Do you, Mayl Sakurai, take Lan Hikari to be your lawfully wedded husband? In sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer? Will you love and honor him for the rest of your days, until death do you part?

Mayl: I do!

Priest: And do you, Lan Hikari take Mayl Sakurai to be your lawfully wedded wife? In sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer? Will you love and honor her for the rest of your days, until death do you part?

Lan: Hell yeah I do!

Mega, groaning: Lan...language

Roll: *exasperated sigh*

Mayl: *rolls her eyes but giggles*

Audience: *laughs and also roll their eyes*

Priest: Then by the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!

Lan pulls Mayl into a kiss. Everyone cheers. Roll cries because she's so happy for her bestie. Mega grins and claps and wipes away a stray tear because his little brother is all grown up!

The reception goes off without a hitch and at some point, Mayl announces she's going to do the Netopian tradition of tossing the bouquet

Roll: Oh? I thought wedding traditions were silly?

Mayl: Seeing the bride's dress before the wedding is silly. This, I'm okay with...

Roll: Well it sounds fun! I'll gather up the single girls!

As a huddle of non-married girls get togetehr, Mayl turns around, and just when it looks like she's about to toss it, Lan takes the bouquet and throws it in Megaman's face...hard

Mega: Ow! Hey! Lan! What the--?

Lan: Our part is over, it's your turn now!

Roll: *blushing red*

Mega: *also blushing* H-Hey! That's not how this goes!

Lan: Don't argue with tradition Hub, hahaha!

Mayl: Hahaha!

As the newly wed couple go back onto the dance floor, Megaman rolls his eyes at them. He then catches Roll's eye, who is trying to hide her red cheeks. Megaman blushes too

Mega: Um...would you wanna make some plans...for the future? With me?

Roll: Y-Yeah...I'd like that a lot

It was the best day ever

#anon #responses #mmbn hc land #crack edition #maylan #megaroll.exe #a very abridged version of their wedding #maybe one day i could actually write out a full narrative #but yes i love the idea of lan taking mayl's bouquet and hitting mega in the face with it #to indicate that yes mega and roll are the next ones to get married #both lan and mayl planned it that way he didn't just do it as an impulse

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everythingcanadian · 6 months

Text

An Offering

Pairing: Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston/Arthur Morgan

Rating: Teen

No Warnings

Summary:

John finds a little dirt road that leads off the path he takes to his job he has to keep his head down. Arthur and Abigail explore it with him one afternoon. It's as if they've incited a ritual. Day 18 or Promptober: Cathedral Enjoy the spoopy.

AO3 Portal

The little cathedral sat abandoned at the end of an overgrown dirt road. John had come across it not too long ago when he had been going to and from some stable hand work to keep his head low. He would explore it later.

It was later.

Both Arthur and Abigail had come with him for this little adventure. Jack was with Charles and Uncle, safe and sound. It let the trio enjoy a bit of trouble where they only had to worry about themselves.

The stone church looked older than it should have been. Hundreds of years older. It felt like it too. An old soul attached to the mossy and water shaved stones. The tower at the back of it held firm and tall yet through the openings there was no bell to be seen. It blended in among the thick tree canopy and hid from view. The wooden roof had nearly rotted away, only the bare bones of the curved ceiling stood now.

Wooden pews rotting away and teeming with life lined the sides of the aisle. Waiting for a long gone congregation to sit and listen to a sermon. Glassless windows half intact with thin stone in patterned columns let in natural sunlight and fed in more moss and leaves. On one side of the main room stood a small birch tree trying its hardest to grow in the mostly shaded cathedral.

What could have been decades or centuries of dust, debris, bugs, and an assortment of other things littered and carpeted the stone floor. The nearly gone ceiling and semi-dense treetops let in the late afternoon sun, illuminating the somewhat still bright stone slabs and walls, leading the eyes to the main piece of the whole church.

The altar at the far end of the gran room stood bare. A simple carved slab of stone. Yet it was clean of debris and moss or growth. The arches in the sides of the stone looked near new with minimal erosion, as if it was never used and just the wind and rain and snow damaged it.

There were no statues. No grand window panes. No frescoes or paintings. Nothing that called to this little cathedral’s small grandeur.

Abigail giggled as she took their hands, one in each of her own, and pulled them to the front of the church, climbing the one step up to stand in front of the altar. “We should have a little ceremony. Make what we have official.”

“Darlin’ I don’t think what we have here is ever going to be official. In the law or the lord’s eyes.” John said it with a roll of his own eyes.

“Humour me Marston.” Abigail smiled at him, raising her eyebrows in a challenge.

John huffed and Arthur laughed at him. “Can’t hurt I suppose.”

“A lady officiant for John and Me? Well I’ll be.” Arthur teased their woman.

Abigail tsked and moved to stand with her back to the altar and beckoned the two men in so they faced each other. “C’mon now. Hold hands.”

“Yes dear.” Both John and Arthur said at the same time, smirking at each other as they did as she directed.

“I don’t know it all but I’ll try what I can.” She cleared her throat. “Do you Arthur Morgan, take John Marston to be your husband. In sickness and in health. In wealth or poverty. In heaven or hell. To love unending. Till death do you part?”

Arthur smiled at John, feeling his chest ache in a welcomed way. “I do.”

Abigail grinned and continued. “And Do you John Marston, take Arthur Morgan to be your husband. In sickness and in health. With money or nothing. In heaven or hell. To love eternally. Till death do you part?”

John had to blink a few times and it made both Arthur and Abigail inhale. “I do.” It was a bit choked.

“Perfect. Kiss the groom and seal the vows.”

“That’s not how that goes.” Arthur teased.

“Arthur.” Abigail huffed.

“Yes dear.” He leaned in and took John’s lips with his. Enjoying the light press together as they signed their love together with this.

John pulled back and sniffed. “Alright, you and Abby. We’re already hitched so can’t really do it again.”

“You can and you should.” Arthur’s warm affection took hold of the other two. A blanket of comfort surrounded them. “C’mon now, Abigail, come stand here. I’ll officiate your vows first.”

“Fine. Just nothin' fancy.” John groaned as Abigail and Arthur switched places.

“You better pay attention to this one John, or so help me.” Abigail brushed down her skirt.

John smiled. “Y’look beautiful.”

“I look like I’ve been cleaning all day.”

“As I said. Beautiful.”

Abigail’s expression melted at that, a lovely flush gracing her cheeks. “John.”

The smile John held was soft on the edges and pulled his scars lightly. But it was still his smile.

“Abigail Marston, do you take John Marston to be your unlawful husband. For wealth or poverty. For better or worse. For sickness or health. In your pledge. Till death do you part?”

“I do.” Abigail’s own smile matched John’s.

“Alright then. John Marston. Do you here take Abigail Marston to be your unlawful wife? For wealth or poverty. For better or worse. For sickness or health. In your pledge. Till death do you part?”

“Damn right I do.” John swallowed.

Abigail snorted as Arthur laughed. “If I have any power in me, I pronounce you wedded. You may kiss.”

Arthur watched as Abigail tugged John in and nearly crashed together. The soft sigh from her ripped through Arthur like fire in a match. Bright hot in a flash.

“Alright. Your turn, you two.” John pulled back and looked down at Abigail’s kind eyes. As Arthur swapped with John for the last of their three weddings John shuffled a little. “Abby, I’m going to do this properly.”

“Oh?” She caught on almost immediately. “Yeah sure.”

Arthur didn’t get it.

John coughed and stood with his hands behind his back. The light filtering in hitting the stone altar behind him just right to brighten the back of the room. “Do you, Abigail Roberts, take Arthur Morgan to be your husband?”

Arthur felt his knees go weak. John suddenly was taking this seriously.

“Through thick and thin, meagre and plenty, sickness and health, till death do you part?” John’s raspy voice held power like this, a little joke of a ceremony feeling deeper than anything official they could ever have.

It stole Abigail’s breath and she whispered. “I do.”

John nodded. “Do you, Arthur Morgan, take our dear Abigail Roberts to be your wife? Through thick and thin, meagre and plenty, sickness and health, till death do you part?”

Arthur dumbly nodded before catching up. “I do. Yeah.”

“Then it is with my pleasure to pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” John’s words had a bit of cheek to it.

As soon as Abigail and Arthur sealed their own vows with a soft kiss they all heard a great clap and rumble. John scrambled away from the stone altar while looking behind him. Abigail stumbled back a bit and looked towards it. Her gasp drew Arthur’s gaze.

From the very centre, in three, too clean lines, were cracks going down to the floor through the whole altar. Faintly they could hear the crisp ringing of a church bell coming from the empty tower above them.

Looking at each other they thought it best to leave. Silently and quickly. Whatever had just happened, they did not want to know. Their horses were still where they tied them to the disintegrating front fencing of the church.

They didn’t dare speak until they had left the dirt path of the cathedral and returned to the main road. And even then it was still quieter than normal as they rode home.

When John had left the next morning to go to the ranch, he realized that he never passed the semi-overgrown path to the eerie church. Coming home, he tried to find it. It looked as if there was no path at all. He didn’t dare bring this up to Abigail or Arthur. They couldn’t even explain away the faint circular scarring around their ring fingers when they had gotten home. As if the scars had always been there.

#morgston #Arthur x john x abigail #promptober 2023 #promptober #fic #my fic

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