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tadpolesonalgae · 15 hours

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Predator and Prey[***]

Dark!Rhys x reader

a/n: Okay, so, this isn’t ‘canon’ to the Desk Pet series, it’s more like it’s set in that universe but it’s a what-if scenario! Because I read this and wanted to write a little drabble for it!!!

warnings: uh, I think it turned into angst? It’s not written to be sad, but you might read it as sad? Um, anyway, Rhys doesn’t die, he’s fine, it just cuts off dramatically. Enjoy! :) (also, reference to past noncon, please be careful)

word count: 2,638

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Velaris.

The city of Starlight.

Home to the High Lord, and rumoured to be a haven for dreams.

A place to rest and recover, where the colours shone brighter and the air tasted crisper. Where sleep was no longer a restless resignation but settled over its citizens fully, a night to guarantee fresh minds in the morning, relieved of aching joins or a heaviness to their eyelids. Where even the sun shone brighter, and the moon appeared like a silver coin in the sky, starlight glittering like dewdrops on a cobweb caught in the early morning light.

And it was true—any occupant would gladly testify to Velaris’ strangely healing nature, the rare beauty that painted the streets colourful and full of life, that had the denizens struggling to remain in a foul mood for long, but then something strange happened. A small change that caused the eventual death of that wonder and healing safety. Few details were given, but it was clear something had happened. Something detrimental to the Court’s well-being.

And one by one, the stars began winking out.

It started with a curfew—no citizens were permitted to roam the streets past midnight, and were required to remain indoors until the sun broke across the horizon.

Then the darkness started to feel thicker; heavier. Gone were the clear nights; the twinkling stars. Instead they were replaced with cloying shadows, a tension that wound its way through the streets and scratched slowly at doors. Searching. Hunting.

Then at last came the beast itself.

No one had ever seen it, but to deny its presence would be pointless. They could all feel it, they had all noticed the weight that descended across the city, the clawing tension that tightened skin and had throats constricting. No one knew what would happen if they disobeyed the curfew, what would happen if they ventured out into the night to seek out the thing that had swallowed their beloved starlight whole.

Except you.

————

It’s been less than a month since you escaped his bruising touch, the sharp bite of his teeth.

Less than a month, and your body still aches with phantom pains that blister and swell as though his talons are still raking gently through your mind, plucking at your pain to keep you under his thumb.

The cool night air is like a balm to your skin, burning hot from anxiety as the clocktower strikes twelve, and the few lights that had been illuminated are snuffed out. You watch from the small attic window as the darkness unfurls, rising from the cobbles, giving the unshakable impression that it never truly leaves but rather temporarily sinks below the floorboards, just waiting to slink out and drag you down into the earth.

It’s why you’ve kept to sneaking into deserted attics rather that hiding out in garden sheds.

You don’t want him to be able to find you.

Just a few more days, that’s all you need, and you’ll be out of Velaris for good. You can worry about what you’ll do after once you’re out, for now you just need to make it past that last house.

You’ve managed to scout out a couple nearby and have picked the one you’ll stay in for your last night. Then first thing in the morning you’ll be free. As soon as the sun breaks over the horizon, you’ll run and never look back.

————

Your heart is pounding in your chest, wild and alive as you spring through the undergrowth, bag on your back weighed with enough to keep you going healthily for a day or two, but you’re out!

The air tastes different, clearer and purer. Even the ground feels different, more secure in some way and you’re struck with the urge to remove your shoes and feel the grass beneath your bare soles. It’s been so long since you’ve been out in the woods that shroud the outskirts of the city, and emotion swells in your chest.

But you don’t have time for that yet. You’re onto your next task, escaping the court as a whole.

You’re familiar with the territory—maps were easy to locate in his study, and easier still to pluck from a draw before leaving.

As far as you can tell you have three options that you’ve been running through ever since you made it into that last house. Option one would be the swiftest escape but also the most likely to get you caught: escaping by sea. Velaris isn’t far from the coast and you could likely make it on foot in a day and a half if you pushed yourself, but the docks would be busy and you don’t doubt he’ll be keeping an eye on them. And with his daemati powers you’d be easily recognisable to anyone he’s commanded to pull you from the ships on sight.

Option two is to make your way southeast down to the Day Court boarders. Once you’ve crossed, safety won’t be assured but you’ll be a hell of a lot more protected than remaining in his territory. But it will take time and you aren’t sure you can afford to risk such delayed escape. It won’t be long before he begins searching further than Velaris, and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to sneak into houses unfamiliar to you which would mean being outside overnight, which will guarantee your capture.

Option three: you remain in the Night Court and hope for him to grow bored or restless. Wait for him to make a move and reveal his cards. The last option and least favourable, one you’d only pick if the first two were ruled out for some reason. It’s a last resort—you don’t want to spend a second longer in his territory more than you absolutely must.

Of the three, the safest would probably be to trail down the coast for the swiftest path but it’s true he might predict that, in which case you should muddle your route—keep more inland and go that way, stopping from town to town and slowly making your route South.

Yes, that has to be the right choice.

————

He hears the voices around him but is paying no attention to their flurried chatter, useless and completely unaware of the real problems, concerned only with menial issues that will solve nothing important.

His violet eyes are blank as usual, expression cold and unreadable as the meeting proceeds, watching from somewhere far behind his eyes as mouths move, hands raise in gestures of outrage and demand, postures folded into defensive positions when they’re targeted. His mood darkens—how they manage to occupy themselves so fervently, how they manage to swell such unseemly waves of emotion over such meaningless topics, it’s waring his temper dangerously thin.

It’s been nearly a month since she disappeared from his life, vanishing from the house he’d kept for her and running out into the night. He still remembers the strange emptiness he’d felt when he’d returned, tired and worn out, seeking nothing more than to fall into bed with her. Nothing more than to inhale her scent again, to feel the soft shape of her body as it slots against his own, hear the quiet noises of her breath as she tries to keep it from hitching whenever he reaches for her. The tinge of fear in her scent whenever he approaches, or the flash of terror then rage that passes behind her eyes so swiftly it leaves him slightly breathless.

He had thought she was warming up to him. That the lack of protest had been promising, and that the steady disappearance of resistance had meant she was beginning to forget. And he had responded to that by granting her more freedom—not much, but she had access to the gardens—and being that small bit less forceful in his touch.

Resurfacing into the current reality, the voices swarm at his mind, loud and grunting as they argue themselves in circles.

He had been close last night, had caught her scent on the ledge of a window near the outskirts of his city, but it had been faint and days old. She will have likely made it out into the forests by now.

Darkness unspools across the floor, his mood seeping into the room as tension spreads itself across the table, tightening around the council’s throats.

He needs to find her soon. For her to be out in the woods, alone and near nightfall. If something happens to her…

The faelights fail, flicking softly before they wink out, and the chamber falls into silence as the absent darkness at last finishes plying the life from their bodies, at last allowing silence to settle.

————

The boarder isn’t far now, but your heart is pounding so hard from running you’re worried he’ll be able to hear it in the few seconds it takes to inhale.

He’s much too close for your liking, and one wrong move…

He’s relentless in this hunt, stalking your steps as he prowls after your scent, tracking you how he’d been raised to, following the signs you’re unable to hide in the spare moments your magic deactivates. You’re lucky you’d had no reason to use it after Amarantha’s fall.

It’s been a while since you’ve handled it, but you can temporarily go invisible to hide yourself from sight. A handy trick certainly, but it wouldn’t be enough to get past him on its own. Which is why you’re thankful for its one step further.

For the duration you can hold your breath, it’s as if you don’t exist. You can run through the brush, step on as many twigs as you like and no one will hear. Can sidle up to birds and other creatures without them even noticing you. Even your scent is covered. Were it not for this, you wouldn’t have stood a chance of escaping.

And yet between those breaths when you resurface into reality, he’s able to sense you. An acute awareness he’s pinned onto you that alerts him of your movements in those bare seconds.

The darkness swarms to the position you’d been not even a minute before, and your heart stops when you spot the silhouette that’s prowling through the shadow. Tall and intimidating, perfectly cut lines stark against the inky blue of the night sky, able to make out the locks of blue-black hair that glint like raven’s feathers beneath the sliver of moonlight.

Terror filters through your blood as he calls your name, pausing at the foot of the tree you’d been at, glancing at the ground before his violet eyes skim the surrounding area.

Nails dig into your palms when his attention pauses on you, watching the darkness between the trees that you’re hidden in, brows narrowing ever so slightly.

It’s impossible. There’s no way for him to know where you are. Your scent is covered, and noise you make is absolutely annulled, your presence itself entirely smothered, so how?

You don’t waste time considering it—how sharp his senses must be—keeping your breath held as you dart away, running for your life through the darkness of the woods. The boarder of Day is still far off, there’s no way you’ll be able to reach it before the sun rises.

He’s going to find you.

He’s going to take you back.

Your lungs are burning, and you’re forced to yield another gasping breath before returning into that invisible pocket that’s keeping you separate from him.

In that one second you feel as he shifts, the immensity of his power concentrating to the space not even three steps behind you, and your legs fumble, giving out from terror at how close he’d come.

You flip onto your back, scrambling away, heart pounding as he stands there, violet eyes practically glowing in the dark as he scans the surrounding area.

You aren’t going to escape. He’ll find you with the next breath.

Your heart stutters, pulse spiking as your trembling fingers brush the hilt of the blade at your side.

At a normal pace you can last about four minutes, five if you’re patient and concentrating. Now, with the panic set in, the wild flutter of your pulse, you have a minute and a half. Two at most. One-hundred and twenty seconds to figure out what to do with the blade at your side and the male stood before you, blessedly unaware that you’re crumpled on the floor two strides from his feet.

It’s simple once you think about it.

You have a blade, and he’s unable to sense you.

You can kill him. Or at least incapacitate him.

The realisation shocks through you, hands tightening around the hilt of the blade, banishing the tremble from your fingertips as you shakily get to your feet, standing before him as violet eyes search for a hint of your presence.

Again your heart stutters as he somehow looks straight at you, watching the space exactly before him that, to all of his senses, should be empty. And yet.

You look at him silently, blade grasped tightly in your hands, and you can imagine how it will feel to slide the steel up through his ribs. Even if he is High Lord, even if it’s Illyrian steel and not ash, it will be enough.

His brows narrow almost imperceptibly, hands removing themselves from his pockets and your stomach clenches as he takes a step forward.

It’s all you need to get you moving, your feet shoving against the ground as you run at him, pulling the blade back, allowing the breath to slip past your lips as you inhale sharply to give your muscles the air they need to stab the blade up into his chest.

Violet eyes go wide as you appear before him, moonlight glinting on steel a fraction of a moment before it cuts clean into him, sliding through his ribs and piercing his heart. Your lip is curled, hands shaking around the hilt, fingers trembling where blood is dripping down, features twisted into an expression of frightening fury.

Has he done that to you?

The momentum combined with the agonising pain knocks him back, your own strength so focused on forcing the blade as deep into his rotted heart as you can that your legs give out with him, bodies falling together, crushing into the ground as his arms wrap around you.

Disgust crawls across your skin and you think you might be sick, but you keep one hand wrapped around the hilt of the blade, meeting his horrifically familiar violet gaze as you manage to twist the steel in his chest. His features contort in pain, hot liquid burning against your palm as it saturates through the fine material of his clothes, sinking into your sleeves.

Breath pants from his lips as he tries to steady his breathing, and you brace for whatever fury he’ll unleash upon you, already making to inhale again in order to escape, but his arm has wrapped around the base of your spine, his palm cupping your jaw so he can look at you. Violet seems to almost shudder, and you can hear the frantic pulse of his heart, skin already paler than seconds before.

You freeze beneath that look, body paralysed at the familiar softness to his irises. How he’d look at you before…everything.

Blood pushes from between his lips, colouring his teeth a raw red as life leaks from the wound you’ve made and it looks like he’s trying to speak.

His hand slides from your cheek to the back of your head, settling gently down as he pulls you to his chest, a look like relief on his pained features.

“You’re back,” he breathes, fingers stroking across your hair. “You’re back.”

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general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria

rhys taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

#dark!rhysand x reader #desk pet series #dark!rhysand #dark!rhys x you #predator and prey

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0lympia · 13 hours

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dopamine - denki kaminari

summary: recovery isn’t linear or easy. it isn’t a million things, and it’s about a million other things. you know this, most of hero society knows this and sort of accepts this. doctors and physical therapists and psychiatrists know this, and preach it. you know it too.

warnings: aftermath of war, mention of injuries, therapy, denki is a good friend

wc: 2,459

"Progress isn't linear," your physical therapist reminds you. It takes every last ounce of self control to keep yourself from snapping that you know hands white-knuckling the wood of the parallel bars.

You want to scream at all your therapists and doctors and nurses that you know progress isn't linear. There's no way for you to not know when you've heard it about a hundred times a day in the six months since the war.

It's even harder to deny when you watch your classmates, fellow hero students, struggle through recovery. The depression and anxiety and PTSD had swept through the nation, and had taken down aspiring heroes and pro heroes alike in massive swathes. You'd watched as the interest in becoming a hero dwindled, no longer a fantasy pipe dream for anybody, but instead a hard earned title with terrifying, life threatening responsibilities.

"I know," You huff out, mostly out of pain and exertion, and you try to take yet another excruciating step. You know you're only moving a few inches at a time — a sad shuffle, if you're honest — but it feels like miles.

There are a few of your classmates also in the PT room, all working on one motor skill or another. Midoriya is seated at one of the tables by the window, working with his own therapist to just grip a pencil.

You'd watched the terrifying green-haired aspiring hero go from screaming and shouting through tears to quiet frustrated sniffling and stifled tears when they'd had him working on the fine motor skill of writing. It had broken your heart, knowing that prior to the war he'd spent nearly all his spare time writing in that notebook he kept. Before the war you might have offered him a smile, some gesture of encouragement, but now you could barely even take a step before the titanium pins holding your joints together jostled and pain shot through you.

You're still hunched over, bracing yourself on the wooden bars, and you can feel a tug on your gait belt as your therapist makes sure you aren't going to fall on your face. You take another sad, measly, step forward and pain races through you, from your toes all the way up through your spine and into your skull. There's a quiet shout as you do it, and for moment you think the sound came from you, but your gait belt remains relaxed.

The shout had come from next to you, Kaminari had fallen, his therapist catching him before his knees could even hit the ground.

You'd watched him struggle through therapy too. His Quirk leaving his body wracked with uncontrollable shakes and tremors. You could still recall very clearly the absolute frustration and anguish he'd expressed at one of the early class therapy sessions over his autonomy being robbed from him.

You could relate.

"Fuck!" He curses, and you can tell he's biting back tears. You take another step, and it hurts so bad a grunt of pain escapes your gritted teeth, knees buckling so hard that your therapist can't seem to react fast enough, and you barely catch yourself on the bars.

You look over at Kaminari, and he's watching you through the long fringe of his blonde hair, the black streak he dyed into nearly entirely faded out. You know he's taking stock of your injuries, the same way you're assessing him, as you ease yourself to the padded floor with a heavy sigh.

"This never seems to get any easier, does it?" He asks, and he's offering you a smile.

"No," you agree in a rasp, vocal cords scraping roughly, never to sound like they did before the war, "It doesn't."

You quickly wipe away your stray tears of pain, turning your head in hopes that you don't have to watch as his expression morphs into something like pity. Or understanding, maybe. Either way, the looks people give you now make you sick to your stomach.

You'd been beaten nearly to death. Though, who hadn't. And although you hadn't had quite as exciting a resuscitation as Bakugou had, you'd been resuscitated twice during your hospital stay. The surgeries had been intensive, not that you'd know having been practically comatose for the three weeks following the end of the war, and recovery had been painfully slow.

Your throat had been ruined, and the reconstruction hadn't been easy — or pretty. So now your voice was a shallow rasp of what it had once been, and that was an improvement from the disturbing gargle it had been at the first class therapy session.

Kaminari was eyeing the marred skin on your neck, angry raised pink and red skin whorling around your neck and up to the right side of your chin and jawline.

Again, not pretty.

"I ha-haven't—haven't seen you without ban-ba-bandages before," Denki comments quietly, and when you lift your head to offer him a wry grin he's looking away, face twisted into something that looks like shame. Or maybe it's embarrassment. You have a hard enough time picking through your own emotions without the help of your therapist to be trying to decipher anybody else's.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," You mutter despondently, a hand coming to feel at the whorls of scar tissue, "I know it's pretty nasty."

Kaminari's therapist is helping him into a wheelchair now, the same as yours, holding onto you by your gait belt.

"Nah," He says, shaking his head as he leans back into the wheelchair. Then he's wheeled out, and his therapist takes him down a hall you've never been down.

"Progress isn't linear," Denki's therapist tells him.

"I know," Denki says, and he's glad that his voice is his right now. No stuttering, no awkward stumbles, his brain firing only the synapses it needs to, "It's just— I went from having total control to having none in just a little over a day. And the worst part is I did it to myself. People would have died if I didn't, but I would still be me if I hadn't."

Denki knows he's shaking, knows because his therapist is offering him a blanket— still not able to tell when he's got tremors or when he's actually shivering. He just shakes his head at her, not sure that when he opens his mouth next he'll be able to speak.

"People would have died either way," His therapist tells him, "Had you been put in your position again, knowing what it would do to you to stay, would you do it again?"

Denki looks appalled, shocked, maybe even a little angry at the thought, "I'd do it a hundred times over if that meant we had a better chance at winning the war."

For some reason, as his therapist points to him, telling him that he's got answer right there, he thinks of you. Wonders if you'd do it all again, even with the knowledge that you'd end up potentially with the worst of the injuries.

He remembers seeing you get wheeled past him in the hospital when the war had ended. A nurse had been on top of you, doing chest compressions, and he would never forget how air had wheezed past your lips, and the noise your ribs made as they cracked from the compressions. He'd been horrified when you passed by, his classmates who could stand gasping at the state of you as you'd been wheeled by. He remembers the many odd angles your legs had bent, and the vicious burns and cuts in your neck, and how your face had been so bloodied and bruised and swollen you were unrecognizable. The only indication it was you had been your tattered hero costume, hanging off of you in shreds.

"A friend of mine," Denki starts, even though he knows todays session is coming to a close, the visual timer his indicator, "Was in even worse condition than I was after the war. I think the worst condition in our class. They're still attending classes even though they can barely walk most of the time. I know they'd do it all again, too. But I can't imagine why they'd want to suffer through all that they have again."

"Why don't you ask them that?" His therapist suggests.

The next day Denki does just that. He hunts you down on wobbling legs, world tilting as he does, after classes had ended. Despite most everybody in class still suffering mobility issues, regular classes had resumed two months after the war had ended. And despite your incredibly limited mobility, your Quirk helped you get around better than most.

The war had either drawn friends closer in the aftermath, people clinging to the bonds they already had, like Denki had done, his friendships with his classmates who were willing even stronger than they had been prior to the war. Or it did what it had done to you, the remnants of war weighing so heavily that seclusion seemed to be the only option.

Then again, most everybody had become more withdrawn in the aftermath of the war. Conversations between anybody was stilted, even amongst those who had been closer than close.

So when he'd finally hunted you down, exhausted and shaking so bad it was wonder he'd managed to find you at all, it was an odd sort of relief when you'd smiled in greeting.

You'd hidden away on dorm roof, knowing that if anybody wanted to talk to you the stairs made the process all that more difficult for most of your classmates. You waved him over, and he wobbled his way over to you trying his best to walk steady, even as a particularly bad wave of tremors came over him.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" You'd asked in way of greeting when he'd taken a seat next to you near the edge of the roof. You even smiled at him, halfway forced, but mostly genuine, the muscles in your face atrophied from a general lack of use over the past six months.

Denki smiles in return, his mouth twitching wildly as his brain misfires, "I was hoping I could ask you something. If that's okay?"

A spark of panic runs through you, there aren't usually very many scenarios when you're asked a question that doesn't make everybody uncomfortable when you deign to answer. You spare a glance at him, searching for any signs of discomfort in his face. Finding none, you nod slowly.

"If you could go back, would you still have fought in the war, knowing what you know now?"

You stare at him, and you can already see the regret sinking into his face. You rush to find an answer. You'd had a similar conversation with your therapist before, back when the concept of survivor's guilt had been new and foreign. You had told your therapist yes, of course you would, because -

"-It didn't really feel like there was any other choice to make," The words leave your mouth involuntarily.

Your classmates had expressed similar sentiments, that they were there, what else were they supposed to do? You didn't care that you were already there, time and place had nothing to do with it. You could've been out of there in a matter of minutes.

"You could've walked away, though," Denki says, knowing the same as you that getting away wasn't the issue like it had been for most of his classmates, "You had a choice. Why did you stay?"

"I was either going to die that day or live with a lifetime of guilt. Dying seemed easier at the time."

He flinches at the mention of death, having tasted it himself, "But you didn't."

"No," You agree, "I didn't. I wrecked myself, and I'd do it all again, even as I am now if it means I can die knowing I did all that I could."

He hums, maybe with electricity, you don't know. You don't look over to check.

"Nobody would have been mad at you if you'd left."

"I would have."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Your words haunt Kaminari in the days that follow, and he makes an active effort to drag you into his friend groups activities. You let him pull you along for lunch with his friends, and you try your hardest to greet them with the same enthusiasm they did.

His friends are riddled with about the same amount of scar tissue you are, Bakugo perhaps the worst. You'd heard about his meeting with death on the battlefield with All For One. He'd sought you out maybe a month after Kaminari had integrated you into their friend group to talk about the shared experience of dying.

Then, suddenly, you couldn't seem to shake Kaminari, try as you might. He was walking with you to and from class, and the two of you did physical therapy together, even though you'd progressed to a point where you could start more intensive training and he still wobbled every other step.

So, maybe it was a two-person effort that pulled him into your life, an integral player. Or maybe it was an unhealthy trauma bond, you couldn't tell, chest still numb in the aftermath. Though, you couldn't tell if the numbness was from your anti-depressants or the war.

"I'm glad you've found a support group of sorts," Your therapist tells you at your next visit, "It's important to have friends and strong bonds in times like these."

You nod along numbly. Granted, your therapist's right, you've been feeling better since that day on the roof when Kaminari had hunted you down to ask you what nobody else seemed to want to.

"Kaminari's been a really good friend to me," You tell your therapist, "Feels like I haven't been as good of a friend as I maybe should be."

Your therapist only hums, and leaves with the advice that you should maybe do something to let Kaminari know you appreciate his friendship with you.

The next time Kaminari finds you on the roof, you're greeting him with a Pikachu phone charm and a box of his favorite cookies.

"To say thanks," you tell him, even though he doesn't ask and you don't look at him. Kaminari's chest blooms with an electric warmth and this time he's sure it's not from his Quirk.

"You should call me Denki," Is all he says, and he feels giddy at the thought, "We're friends, after all."

You hum, your legs swinging gently over the ledge of the dorm roof. You smile with no restraint when you finally return his gaze, your eyes meeting his shaking golds.

"Only if you call me (f/n), Denki."

It's like you took a shot of dopamine when he smiles in return, and says, "Okay, (f/n)."

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rougecreator1 · 18 hours

Note

Hi ! m a little shy so sorry for talking in anon 😊I was wondering, after I saw you opend reneé request. If you would want to write about ReneéReader (fem, obviously)where Reneé ADHD and anxiety are a little too much and Reader comforts then

Swirling Thoughts ||

|| Renée Rapp x fem!reader

|| Warnings: reader & Renée getting drunk, Renée struggling with anxiety, first time writing for Renée, short drabble (no part 2), light swearing, slight homophobia

|| Summary: Renée's meeting reader's parents for the first time, safe to say she's nervous as shit. Reader helps her through it.

Requests open!

Started: May 12th

Finished: May 13th

~~~

You and Renée have been together for a few months now, the public didn't know and neither did either of your parents. You had kept your relationship pretty secretive. Knowing the kind of chaos that could come with revealing it. You had kept it so secret that no one even knew the two of you were associated with each other until you were ready for them to know.

You were famous for your own works, such as the various shows you'd acted in and the two songs you had released. Music wasn't your main focus, but after a single scene of you singing for a show aired... people begged for more. For you it was more of an extra cash grab that accidentally went more viral than you planned for; which was how you had caught the attention of Renée Rapp.

The two of you were currently laid entangled with each other on the couch, watching a movie in your apartment. Renée had suggested watching one of your older movies and every time you appeared on screen, the two of you would take a shot. So that's what you'd been doing for the last hour an a half.

By this point, you were drunkenly giggling. Head on Renée's shoulder as you looked into her eyes. She wasn't quite as drunk as you, but she was definitely there.

"What, baby?" She asked in a soft tone when she noticed your eyes on hers.

"Nothing~ you're just really pretty." You whispered, a faint pink hue formed on her cheeks when she heard you. She'd never get tired of hearing you compliment her.

"Mm? If I'm pretty what does that make you?" Renée flirts back, hand coming up to your cheek and giving it a gentle rub.

You simply shrugged at her question, not finding an answer to it which made Renée raise an eyebrow.

"Baby, you're fucking stunning." She tells you, now you were the one blushing. Then a thought came across your mind, you wanted to know what she would think of it but you didn't know if you guys were at that stage yet.

She noticed you were in thought but waited to see if you would continue it on your own. When you didn't she gave you a playful nudge, pulling you closer into her arms," What're you thinking about?"

You hesitate, taking another drink despite the fact that your character hadn't been on screen. Leading Renée to realize this was definitely a more serious conversation.

"Do you think we're ready to meet each other's parents?" You asked, you could see Renée's breath hitch as she also took another drink.

"Hell yeah, let's do it." She gives your shoulder a squeeze, though it was the alcohol confidence that lead her to agree.

You guys spent the rest of the night discussing it, talking about the dates for meeting everyone and how you would go about it. You made sure to write everything down in your notes app; not wanting to forget the conversation in the morning.

You and Renée had come to the decision that this coming Sunday, the two of you would have dinner at your parents house. You texted your mom about it, being slightly vague with who exactly you were bringing over but letting her know it was your girlfriend. She was on edge about it. Your parents knew you were gay, your mom took it better than your dad but she still had her complaints.

Mom: Girlfriend?? You're dating again? Honey, you should've told me! There's a nice man that moved in next door.

Your mom texted, you sighed deeply as you read the text. Sunday night was definitely going to be... interesting. To say the least.

You: No mom, I'm happy in my current relationship. Thank you, though.

You weren't going to be rude about it, she was your mother after all. So you let it slide and hoped it would be just the one time comment.

While you were dealing with all of this, Renée was in the kitchen. Pacing back and forth as she fidgeted with her rings. She had gotten in her head and was overthinking everything. Maybe she shouldn't have agreed. Maybe they should wait longer. Was she ready for this?

Her eyes flicked to yours when she saw your figure step into the kitchen doorway. Your expression soft as you walked over, pulling Renée into your arms to slow her pacing. "What's wrong?" You could tell Renée was overthinking, you knew her well enough by now to be able to catch all the little signs.

"I..." Renée paused, taking a breath and allowing herself to melt further into your arms. You gave her side a soft squeeze as you felt her do this," I don't know if I'm ready."

You frowned slightly, having thought that might have been the case." I get it, baby. I'm scared too. How about this.." You quickly came up with a compromise, Renée's eyes on yours as she listened to you," We wait and see how the rest of this week goes. Then make a finale decision Saturday night, if you're not up for it you're not up for it and that's okay."

You could feel her shoulders relax as she gave a gentle nod. Yeah, okay. That sounded fine. She would at least still be making an effort as opposed to quitting as soon as possible.

"Yeah... okay." Renée replied, you gave her forehead a soft kiss and kept her close in your arms. Hoping you at least eased her mind a little.

And you had, she was grateful for you.

#x reader #fanfic #canon x reader #fem reader #wlw fiction #renee rapp x reader #renee x reader #renee rapp

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she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 3 days

Text

Day One of falling back in love with my book

Question of the day: Where the hell do I even start?

I wrote a book over a period of about four years and started submitted it to potential literary agents last summer, and used nanowrimo last year to start working on the sequel. As of a few months ago, I have been rejected by every single agent I applied to. I had to take a break and step back, it was a draining process and I started basically convincing myself that this was just never going to happen for me because I wasn't a good enough writer. At the time I was also writing and sharing fanfiction through tumblr and discovered that I was falling fully in love with writing in this pressure-free environment; I ended up creating an ao3 account earlier this year and have written a lot, usually publishing one chapter a day. Through tumblr and ao3 I have found such wonderful support over my writing and I thank you all so very much for that (especially @lunarthecorvus for being the most amazing cheerleader). I have finally decided that I feel ready to go back to my book, which is intended to be the first in a fantasy trilogy, and rework the project until it's ready to be shared with the world. I've come to the conclusion that I rushed it into publishing because I was so excited to see a completed project and didn't take the time to properly make sure this was the best that it could be. So here we go, I'm falling back in love with my book and I'm bringing you lot with me! (it'll make me stick to the plan)

I'm hoping to focus on one question a day, and today's question is 'where the hell do I even start?' because I have not looked at my manuscript in a long time and I know there is a lot of work to do. I've decided that today's plan is basically just to start thinking about the book again; I'm going to open up my manuscript and my worldbuilding documents and just immerse myself back in this world and actually think about it.

I'm aiming to update how the process is going on tumblr to motivate me to keep working on it, and if you'd like to ask any questions about the book (process/world/plot/characters/premise/industry/anything) please do!! Thanks so much for all the support y'all have given me <3

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sluckythewizard · 21 hours

Text

Keep calm, and drink soda

[CW for blood and gore and vomit] takes place a day or two after emizel was sired. just two boys adjusting to a shift in their daily norms. would YOU drink your homies blood? still not used to writing fanfic so any and all advice IS appreciated. i hope u enjoy.

There were very few things that Soda enjoyed more than well, drinking soda. It was a hobby, an interest, a comfort. And by extension there were very few errands that Soda would look forward to more than the occasional soda run.

The gas station closest to the Demons hideout had stopped selling Faygo entirely about a month or two ago, and it was near impossible to find it anywhere else. The closest place was now this janky little Shell gas station, lovingly titled the Shady Shell, that thankfully sold more flavors than any of the other ones ever did.

It made the hour and a half walk here entirely worth it. Even if this side of town made his skin crawl. Normally he would ask someone to accompany him on this daring little quest, but everyone at the hide out tonight just seemed too tired, too preoccupied, too uninterested.

He knew not everyone really got the soda thing, but they were accepting of it for the most part. Soda is something that, clearly, Soda really loves, but he knew not everyone else was into it.

Which was fine, of course. They didn't need to get it. But, still, sometimes Soda found himself wondering how much of it was a bit, and how much was him.

Emizel gets it perfectly though. He would've been the first person Soda would ask to go on this soda run with him, but, well. He's been preoccupied too, with the whole vampire thing.

It's been a bit more than a day since Soda had last seen his close comrade. For a friend that he saw just about everyday, going without him this long left him feeling a little emptier.

That was fine, though. Emizel had shit he was working out, he had things he needed to do. It's not like he could go out in the day anymore, so of course Soda wouldn't be seeing him at all the usual times.

It was a lot of weird and heavy magical stuff, it made Soda think about those superhero shows. Where the hero needs to keep his identity hidden from everyone. Family especially. He knows how much of a piece of shit Emizels dad is, so he hoped that Emizels home life wasn't stirred up all stupid-like over this.

He hasn't told anyone else, about what happened that night. For the last 2 days, Soda would spend time with close friends and not let them know a thing about what happened to Emizel so, so recently. Why he's so suddenly absent, so distant, so.. off…

'Maybe his dad's just giving him a hard time', he would say, hoping to smother their questions. The less questions they ask, the better. At least until this vampire stuff gets figured out a bit more. Should Emizel wear a disguise when he goes out at night now? Just like a superhero? What kind of hero outfit would Emizel have anyways? Soda figured it would be something really cool.

If anyone could figure out a way to balance all this vampire stuff, and all the leaderly responsibilities that come with being the biggest dog in the Demons, it was Emizel for sure. That guy is so seriously cool.

He was sure this rough patch would even out, and they would weather the next rough patch together no problem. There was really nothing to worry about! All Soda has to do is stay positive, and well, drink soda.

As Soda walks quietly down the crumbling sidewalks of this dreary hive of strip malls and shops, he goes to pull his backpack around to his chest, fumbling with the zipper in the dark. Which was a little annoying, considering the tab of his zipper had fallen off forever ago. He really needed to get around to fixing this damn thing. Maybe another ziptie and a soda tab will do the trick.

Humid air hangs heavy in the night, the sidewalks still somewhat warm after a hotter day. The diesel-soaked air provided enough warmth on its own that Soda had considered taking his jacket off a few times, only for the occasional, annoyingly sharp and chilly breeze to brush by, reminding him to keep the thing on.

Tripping only once and only slightly on an uneven sidewalk, Soda manages to pull a bottle of Faygo from his backpack, a smile glowing on his face. Another short fight with the zipper seals up the bag, and he slings it over his shoulder again.

His flavor of choice tonight was actually the Red Pop, the tried and true, the absolute classic, one of the best Faygo flavors for sure.

But, this kind wasn't actually his favorite. Normally he would stock up on the cotton candy ones, but something about the last few days had him craving the red stuff.

Securing his backpack all the way, he goes to crack open the bottle. Just the clack and the hisssss of the fizzy drink were enough to lift his mood.

Not that his mood needed lifting or anything. Of course. Sure he missed his friend and sure he found himself wondering what he’s doing and where he is and if he's okay. Maybe sometimes he found himself wishing they talked about funeral plans more.

Emizel talked up all sorts of crazy funeral ideas for himself, usually involving the use of his dead body as an inconvenience for others. Outlandish and hilarious ideas, like filling it with explosives and tossing it into a busy road. But what would he want seriously? What would Soda ever do if he just stopped showing up one day?

He had to swallow down all these unnecessary anxieties, so he took a swig of his soda. Sweet, bubbly, comforting. He felt better already! Just stay positive, and drink soda..

It was a lovely night out, and he didn't come all this way planning on letting it go to waste. There was a place he was heading towards, a particular alleyway in this particular place that led off to a particularly tall concrete ledge.

It was a run-down little space, littered with trash and shitty trees and those bushes with just too many goddamn ants in them. But the view was fairly nice, overlooking a massive deformed intersection. A particularly stupid one, at that; about 3 times a week you could witness a gnarly crash at this spot. Soda always heard people saying that LA folks can't drive, but he was just starting to figure that maybe no one can drive.

That was the place he really wanted to go to enjoy this soda, and he wasn't too far off from it. Just a few more blocks, and he would be there.

Oh wait, didn't he still have a bag of chips in this backpack somewhere? Hell yeah, he couldn't wait to sit down and relax with a good soda, a good snack, and a good view of the night.

Living as a Demon had its fair share of stresses. He felt lucky to have this life, but he knew well that it could be better. That not everyone has to worry about survival the way they do. That not everyone gets injured on the regular and not everyone has to worry about being sick and never getting better.

Living is hard. But it's finding the small moments of joy that make it all worth it. Dying would be scarier anyway. He didn't want to die, and he felt glad to feel so confident in that nowadays.

The sudden THUNK of something slamming into the ground just a block away from him, jolts him out of his thoughts, all his gears screeching to a halt as he freezes in place. What the fuck was that?

It looked like a person, laying flat on the ground with only their head and shoulders peeking out of the alleyway ahead. Fuck. He hated this side of town..

Anxiety churns in his stomach as he debates just turning around, but the way the victim reaches an arm out, attempting to crawl away; it made his heart ache aswell. he's no goddamn fighter, but he couldn't just leave someone like th-

The body is suddenly yanked back into the alley, snatched at a startling speed. It didn't feel exactly real, how could something vanish so fast? It reminded Soda of something from a horror movie, or whatever. What the fuck was that??

His foot takes a step forward, before the rest of his body notices its rebellion and locks down again. Was he seriously going to investigate that? He could just walk away and take another alley. But that was the one he was supposed to turn down! All the other alleys are either walled off or gated off and he wasn't about to go climbing over a damn wire gate. His soda would get too shaken up! Fuck!

Another foot goes in for another step forward. He's gotta get the fuck out of here. He could hear more commotion in the alleyway, a scuffle, a skirmish. He could hear someone cursing through a choked breath. A loud and nauseating crack echoes out from the alley, and yet, Soda takes another step forward.

This was stupid, he shouldn't be getting tangled up in someone else's business. What if something happened to all this soda?

Thankfully, it was that thought that actually got him to pause, and take in a deep breath. It wasn't worth it, maybe he should head straight home.

Atleast, that was the thought his heart and mind were about to agree on, until a particularly familiar grroowwwwlll bleeds out from the alley.

Emizel?

All reason immediately evaporates as Soda makes that connection in his head, stepping right up to the corner of the brick walls, and peering around to investigate.

There was a body on the floor, face down in a puddle of red, head split open in a way that reminded Soda of a smashed watermelon.

But standing over that body, was the familiar, blackened coat, and short blonde hair, of Sodas closest comrade, Emizel.

Despite the carnage on the floor, Soda couldn't help the smile that lights up his face. That was Emizel! That was his boy!

But before he could get over just how happy he felt to see his best friend, something else caught his eye. Movement, behind the dumpster closest to the vampire boy. A person, rising out from the shadows with a glinting baseball bat clutched fiercely in their hands.

"Oh fuck, look out!" Soda speaks up, and Emizels gaze immediately clicks over to him, silencing Soda with just that startlingly red stare.

He had forgotten just how uneasy those red eyes made him..

The attacker, silent and professional, rushes up behind Emizel and CRACKS the metal bat downwards onto his blonde head, the sound ringing out like a gun shot in that dark little alleyway.

Soda cringes from just the sound of the impact, but was amazed to find that the bat had warped under the force of it!

The attacker hardly had a chance to process his mangled weapon before Emizel whips around to retaliate.

It looked like he had just swung his hand at his opponent, so the way a shower of red spills outward from the slash, catches Soda completely off guard. The monster boy had cleaved an excruciatingly massive gash up from the attackers right hip, to his left shoulder, the slice spewing with scarlet.

It wasn't until Emizel had pulled back his arm, that Soda could process the way it had darkened with more than just blood, distorted into an odd, spear-like shape.

The victim hardly had a chance to yelp before that blade swoops up into his chest at the speed of a snapping bear trap, plunging through meat and bone with disturbing ease, and forcing blood and viscera to erupt outwards. The red patters down onto the concrete behind, the sound similar to rain...

With another low, inhuman snarl, Emizel brings the twitching, dying body closer, until that signature squish of teeth sinking into fresh meat bleeds outward into the space.

What a disgusting sound, Sodas first instinct was to simply avert his eyes, but as the sound persists, he resolves that he has to do something.

He finally steps out into the alley, and speaks.

"Hey ma-"

He could hardly get two words out before Emizel suddenly rips its teeth away from its victims throat, tearing out a hefty chunk of jellied meat, and slamming the remaining fodder onto the concrete floor.

It immediately whips around to stare down Soda, red eyes glowing with reflected light, and with hardly a chance to process the moment-

-It's immediately right infront of Soda.

A gasp lurches from Soda's lungs as he almost stumbles back in shock. How was Emizel so fucking fast?

Other than that single step back, Soda was frozen in shock, his tongue buzzing with the physical pain of such a startling jolt. 'White boy jumpscare' is something that came to mind, but while usually such a thought would evoke some sort of laugh from Soda, this time it offered no such comfort. Okay maybe it did a little.

Emizels snarling face was only inches away from Sodas. Its eyes were wild and unnatural, teeth menacingly sharp and reddened with so much fucking blood. It was everywhere, coating most of his face, smothering his shirt and his coat, and absolutely choking the air with its thick, metallic stench.

Soda would gag if he felt he was safe to even move. He felt like he was locking eyes with that of a creature, something he would only ever see in his nightmares or in scary movies. But it was real. Those monsters are real. And his best friend is one of those monsters. His bestest friend in the world...

His mind was skewered on that unnatural glare, completely frozen with anxiety. Stalling too hard to come to a proper conclusion, Soda instead falls back onto what Soda does best.

"H-hey man... You want some soda?"

He very gently presses the opened bottle of Faygo into Emizels chest.

The two boys stand there for a moment, locked in a tense, silent pause, before the monster boy finally peels its gaze down to the bottle.

It's quiet, for a few seconds, the gears turning in its head. Until the monster blinks, and its eyes clear, and Emizel processes the sight of the bottle.

"Oh, fuck yeah dude, is that the Candy Apple Faygo? Man, that stuffs my favorite!" Emizel smiles as he goes to accept the bottle, and immediately takes a massive swig.

Soda tries to disregard the way his hands were still shaking. "Uh, n-nah man, its just Red Po-"

The words are bit off as Emizel suddenly retches, a heavy flood of red blood and red Faygo spewing out onto Soda, as the vampire boys body entirely rejects the fizzy drink.

The shock of getting fucking projectile vomited on had snapped Soda out of whatever daze he was just in, and it seemed to snap Emizel out of it too. Soda backs up with a groan, looking down at all the blood and bile and pop on his shirt and coat.

"Ohhh fuck dude, what the hell??" He cringes, not even wanting to try smearing any of it off with his hand.

Emizel was coughing, still holding out the Faygo bottle, but hunched over as his body dared to convulse again.

"Ohhhhhh fuck, ohhooohhh fuuuuucckkk" he grumbles towards the floor "Fuuuck I’m sorry dude, I don't know what fuckin- oohhhgg shit,” He coughs and groans, offering the bottle back to Soda.

Soda was still staring at his messied coat with a displeased grimace, but looking up to meet Emizels eyes...

There was a guilt on Emizels face that Soda didn't see too often, and it helped wash away that irritation he felt. This sucked, but Emizel was probably going through a lot more.

“It’s, uhm.. don't, don't worry about it, man..” Soda decides to reassure him, offering a sympathetic smile, and a hand on Emizels shoulder, as his comrade spits out the remaining blood and bile.

"Fuckin hell… I’m uh, I'm sorry about your shirt, man."

"What? Nahh it's okay man, don’t worry about it." Soda shrugs, taking the Faygo bottle back. "I mean, are you okay man? That uh.. looked like a pretty crazy fight."

Emizel was rubbing his eyes, smearing more blood across his face as he seems to be collecting himself. he spares a glance back at the carnage behind him.

"Ah.. yeah.. I thought I uh.. I thought I saw that one fucker from uh. That one night. Yknow, the one that uh.." He snaps his fingers, as if trying to summon back the memory. "Vampire bitch... Anyway after that I just kind of, uh.."

He seems to space out again as he looks around. It was as if he was just woken up from a deep sleep, like he was certain he had just known what he was doing, but found the dream escaping him. "I guess I just.. went crazy on these guys. I dunno, they're Fangs anyways." he finally shrugs it all off, but Soda still felt unsatisfied by the answer.

"Oh.. huh…” is the only response he manages to scrounge together. Sure they were Fangs, but did they really deserve.. all that? It just seemed a bit brutal, even by Emizels standards.

He found his eyes wandering over to the split-open head. It was mostly red and bloody, but even in the dark, he could still make out some of the finer details of the gray jelly seeping from the gash. A human brain. He wondered if his own brain looked the same on the inside..

“So what are you doing out here, man?” Emizels question helps Soda pull his eyes away from the gore, instead looking over to his bloodied comrade.

Emizel looked messy and even exhausted, but his drowsy gaze was focused on Soda with a worried expression.

“Oh, uh, yknow, just a soda run. Decided I would stock up on some Faygo from the Shady Shell.” Soda shrugs, his eyes flickering down to the opened Faygo in his hand. The top was covered in regurgitated blood. unnaturally blackened blood…

“Are you.. okay, by the way? Other than the whole..” Soda gestures vaguely at the gruesome crime scene. “Are you hurt?”

The question has Emizel pausing to consider. He straightens his back and stretches his arms, as if trying to detect any pain from any possible injury. Nothing seemed to be bothering him though, and after a second, he decides to shrug.

“Nah, I'm all good.”

“Oh.. That's good, I uh…” Soda found himself looking over Emizel aswell, searching for any wounds the monster boy might be simply disregarding, as he often does.

There was a fairly gnarly gash on his shin..

“Hey uh, I was actually gonna go hang out by the ledge down that way. Yknow, the one with the funny intersection.” Soda says, gesturing off towards where he intended to go. “Wanna come with?”

Emizel looks back that way, before turning back to Soda with a big smile on his face.

“Oh hell yeah I do! I love the funny intersection!” he starts to walk down the alley, about to step over the body of the broken skull, when Soda speaks up.

“Uh, hey, shouldn't we uh.. Do something about the.. uh..” He waves a hand over towards the bodies, trying not to look directly at them.

Emizel spares the corpses an inconvenienced glance, and a sigh, but ultimately shrugs them off. “Ehhh I'll just dump 'em in a dumpster again.. That's what I've been doing anyway.”

“And you're not worried about, like, anyone finding them?”

Soda anxiously watches on as Emizel paces around the body with the torn-out throat, licking the blood from his own mouth. Was his tongue always that long and pointed? That's neat, and normally Soda would point it out, but he was a bit.. preoccupied right now

“Nahh not really. I haven't had anyone bother me at least.. Anyone been bothering you?” Emizels eyes finally flick back over to Soda.

“Nah, I'd say things are actually more lax than usual. Anything that would end up being trouble’s been pretty much crushe- er, killed- destr- stamped out, by uh, by you.” Sods was cringing with every attempt to find a word that didn’t make his stomach turn, but Emizel didn’t seem to notice or mind.

Emizels eyes were currently a bit more focused on the body laying before him. He had that weird look on his face again…

“Uhh, yeah, yeah that's good that uh, no troubles coming back to you guys…”

There’s a moment of quiet between the two as Emizel stares at this corpse, and Soda was about to open his mouth to fill the silence, but Emizel speaks up instead.

“Hey uh, why don’t you go ahead of me? I’ll uh, I'll meet you at the place.” He suggests, pointing vaguely off down the alley, but not removing his eyes from the kill.

Soda certainly hesitates, his eyes narrowing before he even forms a thought. He opens his mouth to object, but then his eyes flicker back towards the body.

“Are you gonna eat this one too?”

The question leaves Sodas mouth as soon as it comes to mind.

Emizel pauses, and considers, before giving a shrug. “I don't see why not. Perfectly good blood.” He reaches down to grab his kill by the shirt, the one with the split open head. As the corpse rises from the concrete, gray matter drips and sloughs from the crack in its skull. Once again, Soda felt the need to look away, and yet his stupid eyes remained fixated on the horrendous sight. Emizel looks over the spilling brain of his meal, licking his lips curiously. “Dude, what do you think would happen if I ate his brain?” Emizel asks, looking back over to Soda with a wild, bloodied smile. Something about that look made Soda shiver, but.. Not really in a bad way… “Uh, I.. Dunno…. Eating a persons brain is how you get like, mad cow disease right? But you might also be immune to disease.. Are you immune to disease?” “Uhhh, I don't know yet actually. I'm still figuring out how much of this is like video games,” Emizel says, rubbing the back of his head as he idly sways the body of his kill around, watching the blood and gore drip and drop from its broken head. “Eh, I'll chance it later.” Without another word or thought, Emizel goes to sink his teeth into the shoulder of his kill, a pleased growl radiating from him as the blood gushes around the bite. More fresh blood upon less fresh blood upon old blood upon older blood. Just so much fucking blood. Soda thought he was used to seeing blood, but this… this was just egregious. Was he really starting to get used to this? It’s just blood after all, and it’s not from his comrades, so it's… fine… He finally manages to pull his eyes away from the gruesome sight of Emizel feeding, but his eyes instead wander down to the blood on his own shirt. Emizels blood was strange, darker than usual, and carrying a different scent. Something about the smell of his blood was more savory, more appealing than the standard metallic miasm. His shirt was smothered in it, his jacket was coated in it, and his opened bottle of Faygo was also splattered with the deep red ichor. Ink swirls within the bottle of red fizzy, spreading out into all sorts of odd patterns. It was a lot of blood. He was certain a lot of it came from however many people Emizels been feeding on. With how much hes been terrorizing the Fangs in just the last few days, and with how nonchalantly he feasts on his kills, who knows how much blood hes actually ingested… Soda swirls the bottle, watching the blood inside thin out into strands, dancing within the bubbly soda as they gradually dissipate, fully assimilating into the drink. A bad idea chews at the back of his head… The sound of ripping flesh once again knocks at Sodas head. He doesn’t look up this time, but he knew Emizel was just playing with his food again.. Did blood taste good to a vampire? Did some blood taste better than others? What did Sodas blood taste like? What did Emizels blood taste like? There's a visceral snap of something among the chewing and ripping, very clearly a bone or a joint snapping out of place. It made Soda shiver a little. When did his heart start pounding? There's an animal standing only 8 feet away from him, feeding on its kill. That animal is a person, and so is its kill. He wanted to know what vampire blood tasted like, but he already knew what human blood tasted like. It hung so densely in the air, he could feel it forming a vile film over his tongue. The blood of a person just like him. Eaten by an animal that eats people. All this stress was no good. This bile rising to his throat was no good. This creeping anxiety was no good. He's friends with an animal that eats people. Would it eat him? This weird feeling was no good. Maybe it will never eat him. But it needs to eat people. This worry was no good. He needed to wash this awful taste from his mouth, replace it with something sweeter. He needed to keep his head clear enough to be there for Emizel when he needed to be. He needed to hold a light to these shadows. And he needed to stay positive, and drink soda. He takes a swig of the open Faygo bottle.

#NO MAIN TAGS WE DIE LIKE ROADKILL #WOW ISNT IT WEIRD THAT YOUR BESTEST FRIEND IN THE WHOOOLE WORLD EATS PEOPLE NOW #ISNT IT WEIRD THAT YOU KIND OF WISH YOU WOULD BE EATEN. EXCEPT NOT RLY BC U WOULD DIE. MAYBE HE COULD HAVE A NIBBLE #i might come back to ramble in the tags more later. STAY TUNED!!!#OKAY IM BACK TO RAMBLE. FIZZFAGS SEAL O APPROVAL IN THE TAGS U MEAN THE WWWOORRLLD TO MEEEE #THIS IS ALL YOUR FFAAAUULTT UR THE ONLY REASON THESE LOSERS ARE ROTATING IN MY BRAIN SO SO FAST #I DO INTEND TO WRITE MORE!! AND I DO INTEND TO LET IT GET WEIRDER #Iwanna make a lil chapter two w them hanging out at the funny intersection while soda maybe tries to patch emizel up.#wouldnt it be fucked up if u saw ur best friend get bled out n then sired right infront of u #and wouldnt it be fucked up if ina vampiric daze he almost sinks his crazy shark teeth into your throat #and wouldnt it be fucked up if you kinda wish he did. like not in a weird way or anything its not weird its not weird at all #RAAHH IM SO HAPPY THAT PPL LIKE MY WRITING STYLE N MY CHARACTERIZATIONS ASWELL IT MEANS SO MUCH TO MMEEEE #NICE WORDS GIVE ME SO MMUCH POOWWEERRRRR RAAGHGHHH!!!thank you guys for being so niceys to me #ive also been thinkin abt writing Post Suckening fics. EXCITED FOR SEASON TWO. in the meantime what if theo had to put up w shenanigens #one shenanigen for example being emizel going feral and attacking a comrade.#then theo needs to stake him n pull him aside n set him straight or something. set him gay. whatever.#ive also had an idea in my head. BC GABRIEL IS TOTALLY INSIDE OF EMIZELS BRAIN NOW #could u imagine doing acid or shrooms w ur homies n then suddenly ur nemesis is showing up in ur fractal hallucinations #anyway i think thats all da ramble i got in me. thanku for enjoying my writing thank yooouuu

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nicascurls · 6 hours

Note

I saw your post about the Chucky Twitter thing and I honestly think everything happening over there Is such bullshit. Shit like this Is why I deactivated my Twitter account a few years ago

As for the whole “Lexy automatically getting clean at rehab within a month” thing. I think that's very weird too because, as you said, rehab takes a lot longer than a damn month.

Hell, I literally have four Chucky OC's and I recently wrote In that one of them had a past addiction after his Mom died and then he was sent to Incarnate Lord at the start of his addiction. I literally wrote In that It took him a whole YEAR to get completely clean with the help of Nadine! And even then, he didn't go to rehab AND he had multiple relapses throughout that year. Hell, he still has Impulses to do so every now and again!

My whole point on this Is how Is It that I, someone who doesn't consider herself a professional writer and does roleplay and fanfiction for fun, can write a semi-more accurate depiction on how healing from addiction works rather than an older man who does consider himself a professional?

Right. I did end up ranting, and I didn't mean to, lol. I literally only lurk on Twitter for updates on the show since it's the quickest way for me.

And absolutely. I thought it seemed odd when it was mentioned in season two. I am by no means an expert, but it literally took me a quick Google search to find out that most programs last about 6-8 weeks and that isn't counting relapses or anything like that.

Like I said before, I don't expect the show to be completely serious. One of my favourite things about the franchise is the comedy, and that applies to the show as well. But if Don wants to add serious plots like Lexy's addiction, I think that does need to be treated seriously and properly researched.

#chucky #chucky 2021 #child's play #chucky syfy #eloise's random chucky thoughts

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cerridwen007 · 2 days

Text

Unwind.

*Images are from Pinterest and are used for aesthetics only.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Dieter Bravo x f!reader (afab)

Word count: 4.1k (18+) MINORS DNI!

Summary: Your boyfriend, Dieter, has come home early from a project. Hoping to surprise you, he instead gets a surprise of his own when he discovers what you like to do unwind alone from a long day.

Notes/warnings: Smut, fluff, DUB-CON (one party is under the influence of ouid but they are both very into it), established relationship, accidental pervy!Dieter, accidental exhibitionism, pussy drunk Dieter, masturbation (f and m), sex toys, descriptions of smoking the devils lettuce, mentions of other drugs, porn with little plot, oral (f!receiving), piv sex, cumplay, they are both just super horny and sweet for each other, swearing, no y/n.

a/n: My first Dieter fic, I can’t remember really where or when I got the idea for this fic, but I knew it just screamed Dieter. This is probably quite up there with the filthiest thing i've written, and i'm not sorry, lol. Also, I apologise for my very long absence in posting writing. Life just got the best of me, and I lost all motivation pretty much to write. Ngl I don't think this is my best work, cause I'm a little rusty but it's fun and I enjoyed writing it. But anyway, I hope y'all enjoy, and any interactions with my posts mean the world to me. Love yall so much! <3

*******

Now that his months-long project had wrapped up early, all Dieter wanted to do was surprise you. The both of you had long played the game of hiding behind corners and hiding in all sorts of spots to try and scare each other, all throughout your relationship.

But more often than not, it was you that made his heart jump out his chest, and a long list of swear words leave his mouth as he over-dramatically clutched his chest. To which you always laughed so hard you cried a little at another successful scare and his reaction. “I'll get you next time.” he mumbles, under his breath, a cheeky grin on his handsome face as he plans when best to get you back.

So now, with an upper hand, he was hoping that he could give you a big fright and jump out of your closet when you least expect it. But what happened was so much more surprising.

You had just gotten back to your shared apartment after what felt like the longest week of your life. You had been drowning in deadlines at work and were so glad that it was friday evening so you could finally get a proper break. After ‘gracefully’ hanging up your jacket on the hooks near the front door and tossing your keys into the bowl on the entryway table, you immediately take off your bra as you walk into your apartment. Throwing it on the back of one of the barstools sitting in front of your kitchen island.

A loud sigh exhaling from your mouth as the pressure is released from your sore shoulders. It had been a long day at work before you ran around afterwards, getting a whole bunch of errands done that you had been putting off. So you were exhausted and understandably so.

You kick off your shoes as you walk through the messy apartment, not bothering to put them away where they belong or tidy up the growing mess just yet. No, first you need to unwind from the long ass week you had. Besides, the weekend started tomorrow, and you would have plenty of time to clean up then and before Dieter came back a week and a half from now.

You sighed again sadly thinking about your boyfriend. God, you missed him. He had been gone about 3 months now, and each day didn't get any easier. When the two of you were together, you were attached at the hip. Spending all the time you could together; talking, laughing, cuddling and fucking.

So it was quite a change the last few months going from spending almost all your time with your favourite person to almost none, except the few short calls Dieter managed to find time to have with you amongst his very busy schedule.

You tried to remind yourself of the fact that Dieter would be back before you knew it, and then you could once again spend all the much needed time together that you wanted.

You opened your fridge looking for a snack. You could have to tie your over till dinner that you would order yourself later, a treat for the end of a busy week.

You picked a few string cheese packets from the chilly shelves of your fridge before closing it shut with your hip as you walked off into your living room. Sitting down with a big “oof” on your couch and immediately sinking deep into the plush cushions as far as you could.

Dieter's heart was beating fast as he watched you through the horizontal slats of the storage closet door. He waited with baited breath, trying to find the perfect time to jump out and give you both the scare and surprise of a lifetime. He had been lucky enough to arrive an hour or so before you got home, which gave him plenty of time to get ready and pick the best hiding spot before you arrived.

He bites his lip, trying to hold back the chuckles wanting to escape as he imagined your hopefully soon to be shocked face. He watches as you get comfy on the couch and can’t help but look at you with adoration, even with dark circles under your eyes and your hair slightly untamed, you looked like a dream, the prettiest thing he has seen.

You quickly finish your cheese sticks, hungrier than you thought you were, and toss the wrappers on the coffee table. Yet another thing to be cleaned up tomorrow. You let out a long yawn and stretched your arms above your head. A cheeky smile graces your mouth as you realise how you're going to spend the rest of your night unwinding.

You waste no time in reaching into the draws of your coffee table before you and pulling out a dark green bong with small red flowers decorating it that Dieter got you for your birthday last year. You put it down the top of the coffee table briefly as you pull out a matching glass box with your stash in it and a red grinder.

Your fingers are working swiftly in their practiced work as you get your first cone ready. You pull out your black zippo lighter with your and Dieters' initials and the day the two of you started dating engraved on the front. You flick your thumb over the flint wheel a few times until it ignites. You take in a fraction of a breath before putting your mouth on the end of the glass tube, tilted towards you.

Holding the flame over dried grounds, watching as the white smoke slowly crawls up the neck of the bong. You let the smoke enter your lungs, filling you with warmth.

Your lips only disconnect when all the smoke is gone and you breathe in a little of fresh air. You hold it in your mouth for a few seconds before you tilt your head back and exhale all the hazy smoke. Your loose fist covers your mouth when you let a small cough.

You decide to do one more hit before you put down the ‘vase’ and let your head rest against the center of the back of the couch. Your legs spread wide, carelessly, as you wait for the drug to slowly take its effects. You groan as you lie back on the couch with a mouthful of smoke. You tilt your head up to look up at the ceiling as you let the hazy white cloud float from your parted lips.

Reaching down beside you, your fingers find something from out under your couch, a rectangle box. You open it to reveal a matte purple 8 inch, life-like, dildo. Fit with veins, balls at the base, and all. Your mouth waters just from the sight.

You have been extremely horny as of late. You always are when Dieter goes away for long periods of time, and you don’t have him to give you toe-curling orgasms all the time. You can never make yourself cum quite as hard as Dieter can make you come, but not from lack of trying. You lazily scoot down the couch a bit so you can take your pants and underwear off.

Dieter eyes bulge in head when he realises what you about to do and he swears his heart skips a beat when he sees that you're wearing his boxer briefs, even more so when he sees a glistening line of arousal, saturating them. He palms his now fully erect cock through his jeans, as his eyes connect with your glistening folds.

You take the hefty dildo out of the box and half haphazardly toss the container to the ground. Your breath hitches in your throat as you make quite work of sliding it through your folds, the tip catches deliciously on your clit.

You toss it to the side for a quick sec and reach down to your bong on the coffee table, after taking another cone you put it back on the table and grab the remote of the table, flicking on the tv and putting on one of your favourite vibey sex playlists on spotify on.

You sigh as you lean back and you take off your work shirt, leaving you in nothing but a flimsy old tank top, which you nipples prominently stick out of and some cosy socks. You pull your breasts out of your shirt and start groping yourself while watching the screen playing at a low volume, with hazy eyes.

You soon pick the silicone dick up again and slowly tease yourself by tracing around your lips and through your dripping seam. Your head lulls on the back of the couch. You tease around your aching hole with the tip before pushing in ever so slightly. Your eyes roll back for a second as you moan at the slight stretch. “D-dieter.” You softly call out.

His eyes bulge out of his sockets watching you, his hand unconsciously reaching down under the elastic of his pants to feel his rock-hard erection. He swipes his thumb over his weeping tip and has to bite back a groan.

You pump in so slowly, only till it reaches halfway before you pull it out further again. You continue this to help work yourself open.

He watches you intently, stroking himself to the slow rhythm youv’e set for fucking yourself. He uses his other hand to pinch his base every few minutes, to keep from blowing his load, so close just from the sight of you.

God, he doesnt even care about scaring and surprising you anymore, all he cares about is watching you as you fuck your self, quietly calling out his name as you take your time in getting to your release. He has half a mind to just jump out now and fuck you himself but the sight of you spread out for him, caught up in your own little pleasure-filled world is a sight to good to be true.

He studies your form like he doesn't know it like the back of his hand, like he hasn't spent hours upon hours coaxing the prettiest little moans and whimpers from you, caressing over every single inch of you.

His eyes will never grow tired of the sight of you, your centre gushing with arousal, your eyes fighting to stay open, your mouth on the other hand, fighting to stay closed as a beautifully orchestrated ensemble of curses, moans, groans and his name come flooding out of your mouth.

His mouth waters as the ring of your arousal grows thicker around the base of the silicone cock. He missed the taste of you so much, while he was away. He loved spending hours between your legs, until you were shaking and overstimulated and had to beg him to stop. Crying out “Dieter! Please!” as you struggled to push away his starved mouth.

Your head is feeling quite light now, and the pleasure is rushing through your veins as you increase the speed of your strokes. You keep chanting Dieter’s name, over and over again, softly as if it will summon him somehow. Well shit, maybe it does.

Before he even realises what he is doing, his hand is fumbling for the doorknob of the closet, and he is stepping out, sweaty, and disheveled, all just from watching you. Your heart stops for a second as you hear the closet door near you open, your brain unable to come up with any sane reasonings until Dieter walks out flushed and sheepishly in a trance, consumed by his love and lust for you.

“Dieter?” You whisper, shocked to your core, that he is standing in front of you and still not entirely convinced that he isn't a hallucination caused by your hornyness and longing for him. And also maybe the drugs too.

He swallows harshly, his throat dry. All the liquids in his body seemingly have traveled lower in anticipation. You're about to jump up from the couch and squeeze him till his ribs break, but he beats you to it, sinking to the floor in front of you and hugging your calves tightly. As much as you missed your baby, you can't help but feel a little awkward, having been caught masturbating and still with the dildo between your legs, no doubt.

Before you can even clear your throat and try to explain yourself, Dieter starts kissing along the tops of your thighs, up your stomach, then sternum, up your throat till his lips lock onto yours. He kisses you with such meaning and passion as he tries and conveys all the feeling of how much he missed you and is so glad to see you now into a single kiss

“God. I. Missed.You. So. Much. Baby.” He says in between quick pecks before once again consuming your mouth with his own, trying to make up for all that lost time he wasn't able to taste your lips on his.

You break the kiss with a gasp, looking down to your legs where Dieter is spreading them to see the current state of your throbbing pussy. “Fuck and it sure looks like she missed me too, huh sweetheart. Just oozing and weeping, begging for my touch. Ain't that right baby?” He lovingly teases.

You grin and spread your legs even further to let him get an even better look at you swollen, glistening folds, still clenching around the girth of the dildo. He reaches his hand up between your legs and pulls the toy in and out of you slowly, eliciting a whimper from you.

“Fuck.” He groans, completely enthralled by the sight of you, and the growing creamy ring of arousal you have created around the base of the cock. He continues to slowly pump it in and out of you, as you squirm above him, your once lost orgasm now coming so close to grasp again.

“Dieter...please.” You croon, begging him not to stop as you feel the edge of your high starts to wash over you.

“Atta girl, fuck just like that. Cum for me baby.” He softly demands, as he works the now shiny dildo hard, fast and deep into your cunt. He sits up a bit on his knees and hovers over you.

Leaning his head to the side he starts to suck on your pulsing clit. His eyes roaming between your leaking hole and trembling thighs, up to your red, cloudy eyes struggling to stay open with your brows furrowed above them. Your mouth agape, curses and whimpers as your orgasm hits you full force.

He watches with blown eyes, mouth hanging open, nearly drooling at the sight of your back arching off the couch, as the waves of your orgasm crash over you. He slowly pumps the cock in and out of you, prolonging your high till your legs close firmly around it. He carefully opens them back enough so he can pull out the cock.

He palms himself as he inspects the aftermath, mouth watering from the sight and smell of your creamy residue slathered upon the tip to the flared base of the slick silicone. He sticks out his tongue and brings the base, where most of the cum has gathered in a band round the bottom, to his mouth. You watch stunned and too aroused to speak as he licks it clean of your sweet drippings.

“God baby, missed the taste of this sweet pussy.” he groans. You clench around nothing as you watch him, eyes fluttering behind closed lids, messily tongue the silicone like one might lick brownie or cookie batter of a spatula.

After he finishes with the lower half, his lips pink and shiny, he wordlessly brings the tip up to your face. You grin devilishly before opening your lips wide and sucking the fat head into your mouth. You too moan at the sweet taste of yourself, not often shared directly from the source but usually from Dieters tongue do you taste the sticky release of your climax.

He palms his painfully hard cock through his pants, before spreading your thighs wide once again, and feasting on the remaining juices. You moan as best as you can with the cock down your throat, before removing it from your mouth and sitting it beside you as you watch Dieter's beautiful curls bob up and down between your legs.

His tongue slides from your quivering hole to your clit, licking flatly. He alternates between sucking your nub, to fucking into your wet hole.

You fight to keep your thighs open, to not crush his head or let the gorgeous sight below you be hidden, but you can’t any more as the drug haze inside your veins seems to have taken all your strength. Sensing your struggle, Dieter curls his arms around your thighs, holding them open and drags your center closer to his hungry mouth.

You whimper at the dull pain that you feel from his tight grip holding you apart, just under your breaking point. The aching soreness from your legs being spread so wide, only adding to the intensity of pleasure rolling around in your stomach.

He alternates between eating you messily, and slowly picking you apart. Motorboating his lips and nose between your folds, and precise and firm licks on your clit while curling his thick fingers up into that sweet, sweet spot inside you, that has you moaning, incohesive gibberish from your pleasure and drug intoxication.

Even with Dieter being the sober one (surprisingly), he sounds just as wrecked as you, if not more. So drunk and intoxicated on you and your pussy, something he and you both thought he was deprived of way too long.

Soon you are reaching yet another, and surely not the last of night, orgasm. Your thighs shake with the intensity of the pleasure seeping into your veins. Your lips go from being an wide ‘o’ shape to a cheesy wide grin as the dopamine and endorphins flood your system.

Dieter makes sure he licks up every single drop of your essence before he rises off his knees slightly and encases you in a massive, big bear hug. Feeling what little air was left in your lungs, you giggle along with Dieter breathlessly as you squeeze his middle just as hard.

He lifts his head to plant the softest, sweet kiss on your lips before rubbing his nose against yours. You take a deep, tired breath in and your eyes flutter close, his delicious musky scent filling your nostrils once again.

“I missed you so much too, baby.” You whisper. You admire the deep crows feet around his eyes as he grins, his dark rich eyes sparking as he beams with happiness, love, and lust. His smile turns into something that of the devils as he begins to caress your body.

He lifts up your arms and takes off your tank top, throwing it on the ground somewhere. Before his lips lock onto your pebbled nipples. Groaning as he squeezes and plays with the other one, before switching his mouth over. After leaving your tits a glistening, saliva-covered mess he descends further down your body, his kiss-bruised lips planting themselves on every single inch of skin he can see.

“Mm need to fffffuck you sweetttt thing, and ffffeel that heavenly p-pussy wwwrapped around me againnn.” He mumbles, his lips smushed against your stomach. You softly laugh and nod your head. Getting the gist of what he was saying and knowing him well enough to know what he said that you didn't catch.

“Please Dieter. Please fuck me. Need… to feel you. Missed you…. and your cock…. so fucken much.” You garble out in your own form of a coherent sentence.

Dieter can’t help but whimper listening to you, his cock pulses with need for release as he listens to your confession (although mumbled) of need for him.

He can’t wait any longer.

He reaches under your ass and lifts you up and shifts you so you're lying on your back longways on the couch. He quickly shucks his shirt off, getting a little stuck in the process as he does so. You both giggle and laugh as your hands go up to help him. He soon pulls it off and makes quick work off, shoving his pants and boxers off his legs.

Both of your eyes are shining with something so deep and emotional as you admire each other's naked bodies. A sight seen countless times between the two of you but one that neither would ever grow sick of. You reach up and stroke your hands up and down Dieter's front, feeling his strong chest and plush belly that you love very, very much. He whimpers as your hands trail down into the coarse hair at the base of his leaking cock.

Even as he towers over your relaxed form, there is an air of submission to him still. The way his eyes are glazed over with no other drug than love, pupils blown wider than when he was higher than a kite on LSD. His eyes brows slightly furrowed in, his chest moving fast as he pants. His bottom lip trembling with anticipation of connecting your bodies together so intimately once again how they should be. How they would always be if Dieter got a chance.

He shakes himself out of his love trance and lowers himself over you, his forearms resting on the couch beside your head. You close your eyes and kiss him deeply, giving him a piece of you that no one but him gets to have. Literally and spiritually. He groans almost pathetically when you reach your hand down and swipe his tip through your once again dripping folds.

Your squinting and red eyes look up at him pleadingly, just begging to put the both of you out of the agonising wait and finally feel each other. He smiles a soft smile before he lines himself up and slowly pushes into your pulsing cunt.

“Ohhhh….ohhh…oh…yeah, honey.” He moans out as he slowly bottoms out in your cunt. You gasp as you adjust to his considerably large girth. Something you truly will never fully get used to. Your hands clutch as his biceps, grounding yourself as your fluttering pussy adjusts to him.

“God….fucken hell, baby. You feel somehow even better than I remember. Jesus christ.” He pants, his face screwing up from the pleasure just simply inside your beautiful heat gives him. He desperately tries to think of anything else other than your stunning form below him and just made for him cunt, feeling already so close to blowing his load.

He reaches down and pinches his base and quickly begins Jack hammering into you fast and hard, to hopefully get you off before he ultimately finishes way quicker than he intended to.

“Oh f-f-fuck, Dieter!” You cry out, eyes squeezing tight at the immediate hard and fast pace Dieter has set while fucking you.

“Im s-sorry b-baby. Fuckkk. You just feel too damn good. I just n-n-need. Ahhh. Need you come before I-I-I do.” He stutters.

Your heart and cunt clenches around, eyes rolling back from the pure ecstasy coursing through your as Dieter repeatedly stuffs his fat tip into the squishy part deep inside you.

“OoOoh shit, baby. Can feel you clenching real good around me, god damn!” He groans.

You lay there bonelessly, whimpering as Dieter’s fingers circle you clit just right. Sending you over the edge into the deep depths of mind-numbing pleasure. Your body shakes as your orgasm comes crashing down and over you, with Dieter only seconds after.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh oh oh shit,” He wails out with every rope of cum that spurts out of him, his hips almost unconsciously thrusting themselves as deep as they can go every time, only stopping on the last rope of cum, burying his now spent cock deep into your pussy. He lets his full weight drop on top of you as he catches his breath from his own high.

You breathe out with a soft smile, feeling such bliss and warmth from Dieter being here with you. He moves his head from your neck and looks at you. You both smile wide and break in hearty chuckles, before kissing each other.

You relish in the feeling of Dieter’s chest booming with laughter pressed up against yours, feeling his beating heart beat under you hand, showing that he is here with you now and just Dieter in general, his body fitting on top of your like a puzzle, like two pieces that you never would’ve known hadn't always been connected together like this.

And that’s exactly how you fall asleep, entwined in each others arms, connected in all ways possible, smiling to yourself as you listen to Dieter’s soft snores and you feel his heart beating strongly against yours, before you two let the sweet blissful temptations of sleep take you too. Everything was going to be okay now that your love was back with you.

*********

#dieter bravo #dieter x reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #the bubble fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo fanfic

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ariscats · 2 days

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Jameson Hawthorne analyze, part 3

The day everyone (including me) thought wouldn’t happen came into life, the day i update my series (that i started months ago) abt analyzing tig characters. Everyone pls give a round of applause to the amazing @x-liv25-jamieswife that remembered me about this and helped me a lot writing this, even writing some of the pharagraphs.

Psychology

“I should not be left to my own devices

They come with prices and vices

I end up in crisis (tale as old as time)

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

'Cause you got tired of my scheming

(For the last time)” -Anti Hero, T.S.

We are introduced to Jameson when he's drunk and careless. We see him jump off a two-story balcony and act like his grandfather's death “doesn't matter”. And that's mainly what we get from him throughout the first book, a boy that doesn’t care for anything, not even for himself. We get a little more explanation for why he acts like this in the second book of the series, The Hawthorne Legacy, where we find out that his actions and carelessness are a coping mechanism for him. “If you let this be a game, it doesn’t have to hurt” (THL, page 113). Jameson taught himself not to care from a very young age. After all, you can’t get hurt if you don’t let yourself care for anything, and, for a boy raised in the shadow of 3 “more extraordinary” brothers according to his grandfather, it was important for him to learn how to ignore his grandfather's words and actions (and other people’s comments too). Because people cared less for him than for his brothers, he began to move through life without looking where he stepped, without giving a second thought about most things, only letting in a select group of people, people who were with him since he was born (his brother, Emily ☠️ ), but even then he couldn't fully open up.

To avoid his feelings, he not only takes unnecessary risks that put his life in danger, but he also drinks. Drinking his emotions away allows him to focus on things other than himself. He wants to focus on anything other than himself because of his self-hatred which we will come back to later. People drink to take away the pain which is what Jameson desperately wants to do. Another one of his coping mechanisms is to think of everything as a game. By looking at everything as if it’s a game, he can easily ignore his feelings. For example, when Tobias died, and he didn’t want to think about his death and the impact he had in his life, he began to think solely about the game Tobias had left (it’s important to note that Jameson has a laser focus, which means that when he’s focused in the game, he has the opportunity to think about nothing else, which also contributes to his copying mechanism. In the books, most of the few times where Jameson is actually happy, it’s because he’s focused on a game or riddle, because it’s one of the few times he doesn't think about all the other things happening in his life.) Doing this distracts him from his problems (grief, self-hatred, insecurities). Jameson’s main priority has always been to think of anything but his emotions, and he does everything in his power in order to do so.

When his mother got pregnant, she wasn’t thinking about having a baby. For Skye Hawthorne, being pregnant meant her fathers attention and something to love her the way she wasn’t as a child. She got pregnant with a professional gambler that never cared to show up or be present at all in his life, and, when the pregnancy and the baby stage were over, so were her fathers attention, and, then, she moved on. She left him as she had left his two older brothers. She only appeared from time to time, never staying for long. Because of that, Jameson started to believe that people would naturally leave him, and that he wasn’t worth people’s attention. He thought that him being himself and being vulnerable around people would lead to them leaving him.

This brings us to his self-hatred. With his mother constantly showing up and then leaving throughout his childhood and his grandfather telling him he’s ordinary compared to his brothers, he started to hate himself. If his own family couldn’t love him and accept him, then who could? His self-hatred and his abandonment issues are what keeps him from opening up to others. Because he hates himself, he thinks that others will too if they truly get to know him which is what keeps him from being vulnerable with others. If he keeps himself from opening up to others and letting them in, they won’t learn to hate him like he hates himself and leave him. Being vulnerable also means acknowledging his own feelings which is clearly something he tries to avoid at all costs.

#the inheritance games #jameson hawthorne #the brothers hawthorne #the final gambit #avery grambs #averyjameson #the hawthorne legacy #grayson hawthorne #nash hawthorne #avery kylie grambs

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buriedpair · 15 hours

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The Sun

Double Down x GN Reader

Felt like writing some DD stuff instead of answering my asks. Sorry gang LOL

Oliver’s hands are freezing. His warm breath does nothing to calm the trembling of his palms. He doesn’t mind so much. He can hardly tell at all. His shaking fingers encircle his arms and he watches the falling snow closely.

The cold is his friend. He’s always liked the snow, as much as he can like anything. An unfeeling machine, and an unhappy reality.

Oliver is unequivocally alone.

“Hey, are you cold? Come back inside.” A voice calls from behind him. The warm, dulcet blanket that is his mother’s voice. He takes a calm breath, feeling the icy winds enter his lungs a final time before he turns and enters his home.

Oliver knew what warmth was supposed to feel like. He knew what it was like to be with another person. He knew all too well.

Yet…

The first time his hands felt warmth was when you held them. Your radiance struck all the nerves in his system. He shut down the second your hands embraced his.

His breath shudders as your lips part to speak, anticipating your next words with short pants falling from his own lips.

“...Can I have my pen back?”

Your eyes shone like marbles against the sunlight you seemed to emit. No, you cannot have your pen back. It’s his now, and he doesn’t want to give it back. He holds it in a tight fist against his chest, not speaking a single word.

You give up after a while, eyebrows furrowed as you awkwardly step away.

It’s cold again.

He sees you in the hallways, on occasion. He can’t stand to look at you, head down as he scurries past every time. He doesn’t deserve you. Not after all the people before you.

Graduation came and went. He left broken hearts in his wake, and you left nothing but light. He’s never felt so cold after that day. Frostbite nips at his fingertips the second you make your escape, leaving him alone for the last time.

Over the next few years, Oliver can hardly get out of bed. He stares at the ceiling, gripping his pillow and wishing it were you. He’s barely got enough money to sustain himself for the next month from his inheritance, but he couldn’t care less.

Gambit finds him alone at the bar of his casino one night.

“You look like someone with nothing to lose.” Gambit leans his head against the palm of his hand as he glances at Oliver from the corner of his eye. His smile is kind.

“Join us.”

For once, he felt powerful. With a Scythe in hand, Oliver was the first to die. All that’s left is a cold-blooded player and executioner, Double Down.

Until you appeared at the casino one day. He could feel the ice in his heart thawing as he made eye contact. Surely you don’t recognize him, but he knows it’s you. He knows that warmth.

You didn’t stay for long. He didn’t either. He left without alerting anyone, just to get a taste of your warmth once again.

Your home wasn’t far from his. How could he have missed that? He’s sure he’s had a few flings in your area. He shudders. Now’s not the time to think of them.

You’re alone. Alone in an empty house. Alone like he has been, all of these years without you.

He doesn’t hesitate to break the lock, even knowing you can probably hear it shattering under the weight of his Scythe. He doesn’t care about that now, not when you’re so close.

He’s panting as he stands in your living room, his eyes dilated as he stares at you. You, perfect and divine. You, who is light and the sun and all things holy. You, who saved him. So, then… Why do you look so scared?

“Oliver?” The name feels foreign on your tongue. This isn’t the kid you knew, who shyly avoided you in the hallways and scribbled your name in hearts in his notebook.

For a moment, he really is Oliver again. Oliver, who loved you.

But he isn't. He’s Double Down, the mysterious murderer.

You take a nervous step back at his lack of response, and he takes a panicked one toward you.

“N-no! You don’t understand! You don’t know me, but I know you.” He takes several steps closer, trapping you between him and the wall.

“Please… Please, just touch me again. One more time.” He murmurs, his eyes never leaving yours.

When you don’t move, he grits his teeth and snatches up your hand, placing it to his heart.

“Do you feel it? My heart’s racing. I can’t stand it anymore.”

He smiles widely, trembling as he keeps your hand against him in his tight grip.

“Please don’t leave me. Stay with me. Don’t go away again.” His smile never drops as tears fall down his flushed cheeks.

“It’s so cold…” He whimpers, resting his forehead against your shoulder. His arms slowly encircle your waist and he pulls you right up against him.

It’s a perfect moment. You, squirming in his arms, his and his alone.

Billions of years from now, the sun will die and take everything with it. But you, the radiant warmth Double Down has never felt before, will always be within his grasp. From this day forward, the sun will never burn out.

#yandere oc #yandere #yandere boy #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere boyfriend #yandere scenarios #bpdoubledown

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straykidsholicleigh · 23 hours

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☆*:..... LEIGH'S MOOTS !!!!

@yessa-vie - my wife 💕

i have to put this bitch first- ur the literal first person i started talking to on tumblr, no cap- words can't describe how grateful and happy i am to have u in my life like honestly. you've helped me with my depression, anxiety and suicidal thoughts and brought me back up whenever i felt down, thank u sm 😭 sometimes i feel horrible bcs im bad at comforting people and i feel like whenever u want to vent, im not really helping but i promise to try better 🩷

also ur writing? like bitch ur writing? THAT HYUNJIN FIC 🫦🤌 like babes just throw me ur talent im begging u, i said it once, ill say it again; i am on my knees for ur writing 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️ like whenever u release smth i get so excited idk- keep rocking yessa baby, ilyyy smmmm my unnie <33 💜

@double-knxtt - my sister 💕

life ain't complete without ya- like honestly, i kinda find the way we met sorta funny bcs i embarrassed myself on the first msg- 💀 it's been literally 5 months since we've known each other wtf... if u need someone to talk to, pls, im always here and even though im not good at comforting ill try my best, okay? you've helped me with a lot of stuff and ik we've had a few fights but i just wanna thank u for being there for me and helping me out of my dark places. your my best friend and my sister 🩵

ur writing- girl, im begging u, DON'T STOP WRITING THAT ONE MINHO DRABBLE- girl, how tf u so good at writing? if u don't throw me ur talent like yessa, im finding u and suffocating u 😃🔪 (jk, unless-) ily sm ok? always remember that my precious unnie~~ 💞💞<3

@kaiyaba - my other wife idk- 💕

still can't get over the fact that we became friends through murder- im gonna start calling u my canadian bestie bcs... you know... we're both canadians? okay soo... UR MY PRECIOUS POOKIE ILY ILY SMM- sorry, had to get that off my chest- ur loaded with hyunjin pics, do not stop sending me them I'm begging- also those cards? hello? lmao they're funny af and yeah they did make me feel better lmao 😂 also, ty sm for being there for me when sam broke up with me, that was a horrible time but ty sm~ 💕 im always here if u wanna vent ok?

also honestly fuck ur ex, he can die idc- 💀 also I'd like more hyunjin pics when u awake, I'll be waiting 🤲 also, just so you know, u kinda slow at typing (cmon, did u seriously think i wasn't going to roast u atleast once?) ignore that last one- ily sm keep going, my racoon 💕💕

@thatonedemigodfromseoul - my daughter 💕

OMG U CUTIE PATOOTIE, ANYTHING U DO IS CUTE 😍 u can just breath and ur cute... u baby material, infant 🫵 also, still not over the fact we literally met THROUGH MURDER 👁👄👁🤌🤌 *deep breath* ahem.. ik life is hard and people are bitchy sometimes but i just wanna let you know that you're got it. ur a human too and sometimes things get hard but we have to do everything to survive right? whenever it gets hard, im always here for u if u wanna vent ok? ily my little infant 🩷

UR WRITING?????? UR FLUFF??? BITCH THROW ME UR TALENT I SUCK AT FLUFF, I'LL JUST STEAL YOURS, IDC ILL ROB IT ONE WAY OR ANOTHER- (that was so aggressive i promise im stable-) ... i still want ut writing bcs wtf?? for a ** year old, ur so good? huh? ilyy 🩵🩷🩵

@fauna-flora11 - my bestie 💕

omg my pakistan baby 😍 bestie, ik we don't talk much but i want u to know ily and ur doing great ok? ur doing amazing, im so proud of what u did yesterday, today, tomorrow and so on ur so cuteeee!! ily my bestie pls drink lots of water and take care of urself ok? and don't worry about my leg and lip, it'll get better eventually 😅 again, if u ever wanna vent, im here ok? ilyy smm <333

i've never really read your writing but im encouraging you to write bcs your good at it! ill be waiting for that skz fic or whatever u have stirring up in that pot of urs lmao.. ily sm flora, keep doing whatever ur doing and keeping smiling 💕💕💕💕💕💕

@silverstarburst - my sister 💕

hi my unnie! ik we don't talk much, but ty for taking up for me whenever those anons throw hate at me, ur really amazing and sassy like that lmao- ik ur always there for me whenever im sad and whenever i get hate so hopefully i can do the same for u, so whenever ur sad or need to vent, just msg me. it may take me time but i will respond and help u ok? ily unnie, ur amazing <33💕💕💕

also, if u want a Chinese or Spanish name just ask me lmao- ik it sounds weird but i can give u one~ should I call u ash or wonhu? 👀👀 ily my pookie ~~ stay hydrated and get lots of sleep and eat well mkay? ilyy <333

..... more will come (hopefully) 💕

#leigh rambles... ♡.#leighs moots... ♡.#leighs moots... ♡. yessa-vie... ♡.#leighs moots... ♡. double-knxxt... ♡.#leighs moots... ♡. kaiyaba... ♡.#leighs moots... ♡. thatonedemigodfromseoul... ♡.#leighs moots... ♡. fauna flora11... ♡.#leighs moots... ♡. silverstarburst... ♡.#ily all smm #💕💕#my pookies 💕#leigh... ♡.

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thefrogdalorian · 2 days

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The Best of Both Worlds: Chapter Thirteen

Din Djarin x F!Reader Modern!AU

❁ Series Masterlist ❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁

Summary: The happiness you feel in response to a question Din posed to you is somewhat clouded by lingering doubts. Yet your affection for each other helps you to push those emotions down, until a weekend spent at his cottage changes everything...

Word Count: 13.1k ❁ Rating: Mature ❁ Content Warnings: 18+MDNI for smut (oral sex, M and F receiving), mild child sickness, angst... lots of angst... ❁ Author's Note: Thank you @decembermidnight for being my beta! This was a monster chapter so I really appreciate it. Cannot believe it had been almost a month since my last update for this fic!! I am really keen to get this one finished soon but I could also see myself writing another 100k so... we'll see how it goes haha. Sorry in advance, it hurt to write... but I do hope you enjoyed it...

13. The Storm [Reader's POV]

Being away from Din was agonising. It felt as though every second you were not in his presence only widened the chasm in your chest which had opened the minute you parted from him.

Still, you had the comfort of basking in his memory and the warmth that spread across your skin whenever you thought of him.

Every time he crossed your mind or you saw something that reminded you of him, you were unable to prevent a grin from spreading across your features. Knowing that he was all yours, that you had taken the step of actually calling him your boyfriend made you feel positively giddy.

Each memory you had with Din was precious, something to be treasured.

Well, almost all.

There was one irritating little moment which did not provoke a pleasant reaction. A moment that kept replaying over and over in your mind. The doubt and insecurity it provoked kept gnawing away in the pit of your stomach. Try as you might, you were unable to banish it from your thoughts.

That one particular moment seemed to play on an endless loop in your mind in the days following your excursion to the park.

No matter how much you tried to banish it from your thoughts, you could not stop thinking about the way Din had shifted all of his weight onto one leg, folded his arms and sighed when you had suggested hiring the rowboat. For some reason, that particular mannerism triggered something in your brain. A reminder of sorts; a flicker of recognition, a memory of a man that you had never even met.

It was like the strangest sense of de ja vu, except you had never crossed paths with the man who Din bore a striking resemblance to at that precise moment… because he wasn’t real.

Nevertheless, for one brief moment as you stood begging Din to acquiesce and hire a boat with you, the way he moved was so scarily like Mando that you had almost opened your mouth to question it.

However, as you thought about it over the next few days, you were relieved you hadn’t made a fool out of yourself and questioned him. You would have looked beyond ridiculous.

There was simply no way that your Din could be The Mandalorian.

You were certain that it was just your overactive imagination playing a trick on you, especially since Mando had been on your mind recently.

When Din had called to apologetically inform you that he would be unable to join you on that Friday night, you had not hesitated to dive back underneath the comfort blanket that was your favourite show.

You had slipped back into your old ways and used the show you once watched religiously to soothe your soul during a time of crisis. Watching The Mandalorian in your luxurious hotel room on an enormous television that made you feel like you were at the cinema had calmed your anguished heart after Din had informed you of his delayed arrival.

It had also clearly brought Mando back to the forefront of your mind in a way that the character had not been for several weeks.

Until then, any spare time was devoted to seeing Din, rather than watching the same episodes you had seen countless times. Mando had slipped down in your list of priorities. Still, it was the first thing you turned to during a time of crisis.

Since you had started dating Din, you had found yourself so busy that your frequent watch throughs of Mando had dwindled in frequency. You had a lot less time to yourself, after work you were usually either physically with Din or texting him. Somehow, the thought of watching your fictional crush when you were speaking to your very real boyfriend, even via text, seemed strange.

You had always believed that you would never find anyone in real life who could come close to holding your affection in the same way that Mando did. You knew now, of course, that you were dead wrong about that.

Din was everything you had ever been searching for. Since the moment you had first crossed paths at the museum, you had felt an immediate connection and spark which had only intensified over the months that you had known him. With Din, you were unafraid to be yourself. You were so authentically yourself when you were around him.

Din saw you entirely. And he loved you completely in return. In your relationship, there was nothing to run from, nothing to hide. Merely two people who loved each other very much and had felt every part of themselves touched by that affection and made all the better for it.

Before Din, you had always been afraid of love, afraid of allowing someone to know you so deeply. With him, you had never felt fear. Never felt that he could hurt you or hide anything from you. Even though his particular line of employment kept him away from you and was evidently well-paid, and even though he lived suspiciously close to The Volume… There was no way the kind-hearted man who was such an attentive father and made you feel so safe whenever you were in his presence could be hiding such a thing from you.

So, those feelings of certainty and security that you drew from your relationship with Din were precisely why you were able to dismiss the peculiar moment at the park which had caused such a strong sense of deja vu within you. You knew Din Djarin was a good man at heart, who would never willingly hurt you or hide things from you.

Happily, despite the uncanny resemblance to Mando that Din had momentarily shown, your fledgling relationship was going from strength to strength.

Din was doing everything to spend more time with you. He would meet you after work when his schedule permitted, even if it was just for a quick dinner before the two of you went your separate ways.

Weekends were usually spent at Din’s cottage, unless he treated you and booked a hotel room for the two of you. The second suite was usually for Kuiil and Grogu now. Din, in his own way, was learning to open up more to you and let Grogu out of his sight for a few hours so he could enjoy your company. He had even discussed renting a flat in central London to give him and Grogu more of a base in the city that would make seeing you easier. It was a sign that the future was on Din’s mind. A future he seemingly wanted to share with you.

You couldn’t help but notice that the increasing amount of free time Din had coincided with the rumours that had appeared online that The Mandalorian was wrapping up filming season three.

Still, you had no concrete proof that Din worked at The Volume. Despite how much your friends teased you, you refused to let your mind wander in that direction. You had settled on the fact that Din would tell you something if he could and that was that. Better to keep your life as a Mando-obsessed fangirl far separate from the woman who Din was dating.

As you spent more and more time in each other’s company, there was a comforting familiarity that grew between the two of you when you spent time together. Things were becoming more natural. Dates for the two of you were rarely such an event anymore, it was more just spending time with each other whenever the stars aligned for you to sneak some precious time with each other.

Of course, your heart still fluttered when you thought about Din, texted him or were near to him. That certainly hadn’t changed.

Spending time with him and having him take you on dates still felt exhilarating. Now with the added bonus that you were beginning to feel more comfortable and relaxed in his presence. Things felt so natural with Din. You did not fear letting him in to see all of you. That included telling the occasional jokes about Mando and trying to persuade him to watch your favourite show.

In a way, even since your first meeting, you had always known that Din would accept you as you were. Your long, tangential rants at the museum during the tour had not put him off, nor had the time when you were honest with him about much preferring a low-key date rather than taking advantage of the reservation at the fancy restaurant he had made for you. Din accepted you as you were.

Every time you were around him, you felt butterflies in your stomach and a warmth which spread in your chest at the knowledge that you had let him in completely, and he still loved you anyway. It was exhilarating.

Yes, Din Djarin was certainly getting to know you. All of you.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

Those butterflies were certainly present once again tonight as the two of you took an after-dinner stroll through Notting Hill, where you had just enjoyed dinner together at a cosy Italian restaurant one of your colleagues had recommended. Your fingers were interlaced with Din’s and you could not resist stealing glances at him every few steps.

Din had really made an effort for the occasion. He looked so handsome in his white button down shirt, dark blue blazer and matching pants to complete the outfit. You had barely been able to form words when you had first laid eyes upon him outside work earlier in the evening. Any words you had been trying to form had soon been kissed from your lips as Din brought you into a passionate embrace.

When you saw Din, you were glad that you had stashed some clothes at your workplace for spontaneous date nights. Indeed, your work locker was playing host to an increasing number of outfits for your dates, much to the amusement of your colleagues.

Tom in particular liked to point out when you were going on a date, causing your cheeks to burn each time. From the way he looked at you and teased you, you almost felt as though he had a crush on you. You wondered why he had never acted upon it before you had started dating Din, if that was indeed the case.

Before you had met Din, it wasn’t exactly as though you were inundated with proposals. Perhaps it was knowing that you were desirable or the efforts you were making to dress nicely that had caused Tom’s mind to wander. Regardless, you didn’t give it too much thought. For you, it was always Din. Only Din.

As you and Din strolled through the upmarket area of London, with all of its distinctively coloured houses, you couldn’t help but feel the autumnal chill to the air that had not been there a few weeks previously. It made sense, seeing as September was drawing to a close.

But with Din’s large hand in yours and the heat which radiated within you whenever you were with him, you did not feel cold in the slightest. As you walked through a quiet residential area, in the vague direction of a tube station that would take you home, it could have been the depths of winter for all you cared. With Din by your side, you did not feel a single shiver traverse your body.

Until, Din spoke, and his words sent a chill down your spine.

“I like this area. I could see myself living here,” Din said thoughtfully as the two of you paused on the street.

There was a row of tall houses with small gardens out front, neat houses with beautiful brickwork and ornate windows. You swallowed thickly. Somewhere like this would be so far out of your price range. It was yet another devastating reminder of the different worlds you came from.

“Maybe it’s somewhere we could look for a flat?” Din questioned, softly smiling at you as he made the suggestion.

You stopped in your tracks and glanced around at him questioningly. It wasn’t the first time Din had brought up the idea of renting a flat in central London, but it was the first time he had used such inclusive language.

He could have been referring to himself and Grogu, of course, but you knew from the way he had said it and looked at you that you were the other he was referring to. You were stunned at his words. The sentiment that he wanted to share a life with you deeply moved you. You had hoped that Din was taking things as seriously as you were, but to hear him express a desire to live with you… you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy.

“We?” you questioned, looking up and smiling shyly.

“Well… much as I love the hotel with the spa and the room service, it would be nice to have a place just for us. Now my hours at work are going to be reduced, it makes more sense to move closer to you. I would like a flat, with two rooms, one for Grogu and one for,” Din leaned in and pressed the gentlest of kisses to your lips “…. us,” Din whispered against your lips, smiling at you in such a way you felt almost embarrassed by the love you saw in his eyes.

For a brief moment, you were not standing in the street with Din. You were transported through time, venturing inside one of the houses you were loitering in front of to a scene so vivid that you could almost reach out and grasp it with both hands.

You could see lazy weekend mornings where the sun streamed in through the windows and turned everything it touched to gold. You’d wake up in your large bed, head on Din’s warm, firm chest as his arms encircled your waist, holding you tightly. You’d spend a few precious moments cuddling Din close while he slept after a pleasurable night the two of you had enjoyed.

Sighing contentedly in the tranquillity until you heard the unmistakable pitter patter of small feet outside, belonging to the child who had featured so prominently in your love story so far. Grogu would run in and jump on the pair of you before the three of you headed into the kitchen to make breakfast.

You stood there, trying to figure out which house was the one from the vision.

Any one of these beautiful buildings could be it, a well-furnished space that still felt intimate and cosy. That felt like a home that the three of you were carving out together. A light space filled with lots of love and laughter. It was so achingly realistic that you felt a chasm opening in your chest, causing tears to sting the corners of your eyes…

“Sorry, it’s too much, too soon…” Din said, brown eyes looking down at the ground.

He had taken your silence as you daydreamed about a future together as an indication that you weren’t interested, that you didn’t want it. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Never, Din,” you whispered, the hope that you saw in those soulful eyes as he glanced at you almost took your breath away. “I want to build a future with you,” you nodded, desperately blinking back the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks.

Din merely smiled at you, caressing your chin with his fingers lightly before he leant in to kiss you softly. It was so tender, so sweet. A deliberate movement that showed you how much he appreciated your words and how deeply he felt them, too.

“I’m so glad you said that,” Din admitted softly.

You stayed like that, staring at each other for a few more moments, each too emotional to truly put your feelings for each other into words. You felt something other than love settle in your stomach. A fire had been lit in your belly, a steely determination to see the vision you had come to fruition. No matter how long it took, it was the life you wanted for yourself. You were absolutely certain of that fact.

Unfortunately, however, you could not stand in this moment forever.

There was the life you had to lead now which took precedence. Plus the fact that the residents might find your continued loitering outside their houses unnerving.

As you began walking down the street once more, you felt a sense of overwhelming serenity wash over you. There was no doubt in your mind that it would one day be the life you and Din shared.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

It was approaching midnight and the streets were mostly deserted. You had work the following morning and you knew Din had to get back to his cottage for Grogu. Still, that didn’t mean you wouldn’t at least try to get him to come home with you.

“Wouldn’t you at least come back to my flat with me?” you asked, flashing your best puppy dog eyes at him to try to get him to change his mind.

“Nice try, Sunflower,” Din chuckled, shaking his head at you affectionately, “I really can’t.”

“Please?” you asked again, looking up at him through your eyelashes, “I have a nice, comfortable bed in the flat I rent all by myself.”

You were probably being a bit desperate and pathetic and you knew it, but the way a frown suddenly flickered across Din’s features at the mention of your bed and flat caused a pang of insecurity to flood through you.

Din had not been back to your flat since that night he had bolted once the two of you made it to your bedroom. You had never brought it up again, you knew for certain now – even if you had doubted it at the time – that Din was physically attracted to you. He had shown you that plenty of times.

The pain of his rejection that had floored you back then was mostly a distant memory now. Still, the frown which had unmistakably crossed your face made you wonder why Din was so averse to coming back to your flat. Before you could ruminate any further on his reasoning, Din’s deep voice soothed you.

“Don’t make this any harder,” Din murmured as he closed his eyes and sighed, “I have to get back for Grogu, I was away from him all day. If I wasn’t there when he woke up, it would unsettle him. I wouldn’t be able to enjoy myself knowing that. Plus, you have work tomorrow… let’s wait until the weekend. We’ll have all the time in the world then, Sunflower.”

“Okay, Din,” you conceded.

“Believe me, I want to… it’s just…” Din stopped and looked down, sighing deeply, “Hard, with all the responsibilities we have.”

“I know, Din,” you nodded, leaning into him and placing your head on his shoulder to reassure him, “I shouldn’t have asked when I know that you can’t. It wasn’t fair of me. I just really like spending time with you.”

“I know, darling,” Din murmured, dropping your hand to bring his arm around your shoulder, as your arm encircled his waist, “I wish we could just see each other whenever we wanted, but work is winding down for me now so I will have more free time. Then, we can begin looking for a place for both of us, and Grogu.”

“I can’t wait,” you smiled, burying your face into Din’s warm, broad chest.

The scent of his cologne sent a pulse of desire coursing through your veins. It was unfair that he was here, looking so gorgeous and there was nothing you would be able to do to show him just how attracted to him you were. It certainly wasn’t for lack of desire, though.

The two of you stood there in a tight embrace for a few moments, before you stepped back and took Din’s hand again. It was getting late and you knew you needed to head for home, much as you didn’t want to leave him.

The Tube station was just around the corner and before you knew it, you were standing before the distinctive illuminated red and blue sign, so ubiquitous with the London Underground network.

With a lump in your throat, you realised that it was time to say goodbye to each other. Your heart ached, but you knew you would see Din again in only a couple more days.

“I’ll see you this weekend, then?” Din questioned, leaning down to drop a lazy kiss onto your lips as you stood outside the station.

“Yes, I can’t wait,” you replied.

“Text me when you’re home,” Din asked as he gently stroked your cheek with his thumb.

“I will, Din,” you nodded. Caring about the welfare of his loved ones was absolutely Din’s love language.

Din stole one last kiss from your lips before you turned to walk away into the Tube station. Not without a lingering look back at him, appreciating one more time how handsome he looked in his outfit.

After passing through the ticket barrier and descending far beneath London and onto the platform, you finally allowed Din’s words from earlier to sink in.

The fact that this incredible man who you loved so much, not only loved you in return but wanted to settle down and carve out a future for you was nothing short of electrifying. You thought back to the timid, awkward version of yourself who had first laid eyes upon him in the museum on that fateful day. You were so in awe of him, yet so certain that you would never catch his eye.

Look at you now.

It was almost unbelievable where you were now and how close the two of you had grown. You never would have believed someone like you could capture the heart of Din, that he would be your boyfriend. But he was. And he wanted to build a life with you.

Yet, as you got on the tube and began your journey home, your mind was once again racing with unanswered questions and lingering doubts. You felt bitter thinking about how Din could have been joining you.

You knew it was because of Grogu, of course. Their bond was so strong and the way that Din cared for his adopted son was just one of the many reasons that you were infatuated with him.

Still, you could not quite shake the feeling that you were missing something. That perhaps you should not be so keen to put down roots with a man that you still felt you hardly knew.

Then you thought of all the happy times with Din and all of those anxieties faded away, only to be replaced by new doubts when you thought of moments such as the one by the boathouse.

It was exhausting.

So, you reached for your earphones and went straight to the playlist of your favourite pieces from the Mandalorian’s soundtrack to quieten your racing thoughts. For a few moments as the train hurtled far beneath the quiet streets of London, you were somewhere far away, soaring through the stars with Mando.

A galaxy away from your anguish over Din…

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

Those uncomfortable thoughts continued over the next few days until you could see Din again. The Mandalorian soundtrack could only stave them off for so long. The sheer contrasting emotions were difficult to stomach. The simultaneous sheer joy you felt at knowing Din wanted the two of you to live together and the lingering questions you had about him that remained unanswered.

Through it all, of course, Ria had been there for you, a shoulder to cry on and a friend to squeal with about Din when things were going well. Like today, as you pulled out your phone to text her on the way to Din’s cottage from the back of the car he had sent to collect you.

[mandoismine] 13:18 morning ria. hope you have a good weekend!!

[thisistheslay] 13:17 Thanks bestie! Not much planned for me, just recovering from work lmao. But what about you, when are you next seeing Din?

[mandoismine] 13:18 im on my way to his house now. he sent me a car to pick me up :)

[thisistheslay] 13:20 OOH!! A SUGAR DADDY!!

You looked out of the window and rolled your eyes, tutting at her antics.

[thisistheslay] 13:22 - I’m only joking. But I still think he’s Mando ;)

[mandoismine] 13:25 - i know haha dw. he isnt!! but i might ask him today if he works at the volume today… surely he could just TELL me that

[thisistheslay] 13:27 - DEWIT!! Hope he can tell you some secrets. Maybe he met Mando?!?!

[mandoismine] 13:30 - haha maybe. almost here now, ill text u later :)

[thisistheslay] 13:32 - Okiiiiii! Have fun with your mob boss boyfriend ;)

You couldn’t help but scoff at Ria’s antics once again. It was a running joke between the two of you that Din was either part of the mafia – hence the wealth he apparently had access to – or was The Mandalorian, given the fact he lived in Nevarro.

You thought both scenarios were equally unlikely, despite how much some of your other internet friends had teased you about the possibility of your boyfriend being The Mandalorian.

Still, it was nice that you could joke about it with Ria. It somehow made the preposterousness of the situation feel far less intense and daunting. It calmed your pounding heart as you pulled up outside Din’s cottage.

Once you headed up the familiar garden path, there was no more anxiety or tension. You were happy to soon be back in the arms of the man you loved. Which you were, barely having time to breathe for, as soon as Din opened the door, he pulled you straight into his arms.

Din often greeted you enthusiastically after spending some time apart. This time, however, was nothing short of desperation on his part as he pinned you against the door, securing his leg between your thighs as he thoroughly kissed you. His kisses were relentless as he searched your mouth with his tongue, desperate for his fill.

“Din,” you panted when he finally pulled away, “What about Grogu?”

“Grogu is out for the day with Kuiil,” Din rasped into your ear as he took your earlobe between his teeth, “It’s just the two of us, Sunflower.”

You did not dare to reply with words and waste a single second of the precious alone time you and Din had by talking. Instead, you dived back into his lips. Wasting no time in communicating with words what you could convey with your lips and tongue.

The two of you didn’t even make it upstairs to Din’s bedroom. He dragged you through the cottage, giggling breathlessly as he went before he sat down on the sofa and pulled you onto his lap. Din secured his strong arms around your waist, his hands splayed out across your back underneath your T-shirt, causing you to break out in goosebumps wherever his fingers roamed.

“So beautiful, missed you so much,” Din rasped, before your mouths collided once again.

“Missed you too,” you replied when you finally parted.

You continued hungrily making out for a few more moments, before it became impossible to ignore Din’s aching hardness underneath your lap. You moaned as you ground down on him, desperate to feel him. Din bit his lip and groaned in response. The sight was so erotic that you were pretty certain you would climax if he simply allowed you to continue riding his muscular thigh.

However, Din clearly had other plans. You barely had time to react, before Din switched positions and you were sitting on the couch. You certainly did not have a chance to speak.

Especially since the sight before you was so erotic, that all breath was stolen from your lungs.

Din sank to his knees before you, looking up at you with darkened eyes as pulled your pants and underwear down. He trailed featherlight kisses back up your legs, paying particular attention to the inside of your thighs. You groaned, wordlessly begging with your actions for him to give you the release you were aching for as you arched your back towards his waiting mouth. To put his lips where you wanted them most.

“All for me?” Din questioned, raising a brow flirtatiously as he looked at your glistening core.

“Din, please,” you whined, desperate for his touch.

Fortunately, Din was equally as desperate as you. He dove in without further delay, moving his skilled tongue as your legs trembled in ecstasy. You were desperate for more of him, eager to have him worshipping you on his knees forever. You knew he would, if only you asked.

Din did not seem to care when your thighs clamped around his skull. In fact, it spurred him on to caress parts of you with his tongue which made you see stars. You moved your hands to his hair, tangling your fingers in his soft curls and encouraging his movements.

When he finally added his thick fingers, you felt the burning in your belly transform into an inferno. Chanting the single syllable of his name as you reached ecstasy.

Afterwards, you sat there for a few moments, unable to speak, barely able to breathe. Utterly blissed out from the pleasure he had brought you. Your legs twitched uncontrollably.

Finally, when you had composed yourself enough to raise your head from where it had slumped against the back of the sofa, you sat up to look at the man who had just driven you to such heights of pleasure.

Din was still between your legs, leaning a stubbled cheek against the top of your thigh with a thoroughly satisfied smirk on his face. His warm brown eyes were full of love. You wished you could live in that moment forever. He looked so handsome, it was almost offensive to your lust-addled mind. You would have been content to spend the rest of your life in that moment.

That was until you looked down at Din’s dark grey jeans and noticed the sizable bulge that was visible. There was no way it could be comfortable. You were more than eager to offer Din some relief. It had been too long since you had the opportunity to wrap your lips around his impressive length.

“Allow me to return the favour,” you breathlessly offered, nodding towards Din’s crotch.

Din raised his head from your thigh instantly, the warmth of love and affection that had been evident in his eyes was replaced with something darker. He did not stop you as you stood from the couch on trembling legs and offered him a hand.

Din took it and when he was at his full height, you wrapped your arms around his neck and clashed your lips together with his. The heat that had disappeared down to a gentle simmer as you basked in the afterglow of your orgasm had been replaced by something far more desperate, now.

Din groaned into your lips, a sound which you heard once more when you attacked the buttons of his shirt. With the troublesome material out of the way, you placed your hand on his chest and pushed lightly until he flopped down on the couch.

Din sat there, transfixed by the sight of you with his mouth open in lust as he watched you sink to your knees between his legs. Eager to pay back the debt.

There was no point in delaying the inevitable any further and teasing him. You both knew what you wanted.

Without hesitation, you removed his throbbing length from its confines, noticing in awe how flushed the skin was there. Your mouth watered at the sight of it. It had been far too long and nothing made you feel more powerful and attractive than rendering this mountain of a man into a trembling wreck as you took him in your mouth.

You took his head in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip a few times as Din groaned your name, unable to help himself from thrusting up into your mouth. He wanted more. And you were more than happy to give it to him.

You opened your mouth and took him as far as you could, head enthusiastically bobbing up and down along his length. As always, you struggled to fit all of him in your mouth.

Still, you were determined and Din encouraged you with his fingers in your hair. When you made it far enough down, he choked your name out in ecstasy. You moved your head back with an obscene pop, catching your breath and looking up at him in adoration through your eyelashes. You were determined to provoke such a reaction in him again.

As your head bobbed up and down Din’s length with renewed urgency and determination, his moans and gasps picked up in pace and volume. You sensed he was getting close but you did not draw back, thoroughly enjoying rendering him so desperate and breathless with your mouth.

Din came with a cry of your name, fingers on the back of your head as he gasped and panted through his orgasm. You made sure you collected every last drop of him, a sight which you could tell pleased him. He groaned as you withdrew. In response, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand as you glanced up at him, satisfied with your handiwork.

Much like you a few minutes previously, Din was unable to form words. He flopped back against the couch, muscular chest heaving as his eyes stayed closed in bliss. You took his large hands in yours and pressed kisses to each one of his calloused fingers and palms. Worshipping a part of him that you loved so much.

When Din had finally regained his composure, his deep voice finally cut through the silence.

“I’m sorry, I wish I could have lasted longer,” Din apologetically murmured, “It had been too long.”

“It’s fine, Din,” you smiled, “We have plenty of time to make up for that later.”

Din nodded with a tired smirk and pulled you back onto his lap on the couch. You curled up into his neck as he grabbed the blanket which was slung over the arm of the sofa. He threw it over your bodies, a warm layer that you were pleased to be snuggled underneath. Especially since the sheen of sweat which had appeared across your bodies during the heated passion of earlier was now cooling and shivers traversed your body.

You felt your eyelids growing heavy. You put up a valiant effort to fight against sleep, but curling against Din’s side while he held you tightly was too tempting to resist…

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

The sound of a toddler crying caused your eyelids to flutter open. To your surprise, you were lying down on the couch, a pillow underneath your head rather than Din’s shoulder.

As you came to your senses and discovered how gravelly your mouth was thanks to sleep, you were momentarily disoriented, forgetting where you were. Then, with a shy smile ghosting across your lips, you remembered what you and Din had been up to before you nodded. You must have really needed the sleep, which made sense considering how exhausted you had been by a hectic week at work.

You couldn’t dwell on your impromptu nap for too long. The sound of Grogu’s wails tugged on your heartstrings. You pushed yourself up from the couch, rubbing your groggy eyes as you padded towards the kitchen.

“Is everything okay?” you murmured as you stood at the doorway.

Din was standing in the kitchen, holding Grogu who was swaddled in a blanket to his chest.

“Kuiil told me that Grogu was fussing and thinks he’s coming down with a cold,” Din sighed, his brown eyes weary, “I’m trying to give him some medicine, but he won’t take it.”

You nodded solemnly before approaching Din and Grogu, aching to see the little boy so distressed.

“Are you feeling a little poorly, buddy?” you sympathetically asked Grogu, reaching out your hand to touch his forehead with the back of your hand.

You winced as you felt that Grogu’s skin was hot to the touch. You cast your eyes towards Din, feeling awful at the way worry was etched across his features.

“Will you be good and let your dad give you some medicine?” you asked in the hope that Grogu would acquiesce, “I know it tastes yucky, but it will make you feel much better.”

Grogu looked at you with a frown, clearly not wanting to have the vile liquid pass through his lips. You stroked his cheek affectionately, pleading wordlessly with the look in your eyes. Grogu had still not said his first word, but you knew he understood the world on a deeper level than perhaps anyone else you knew.

After a few moments, Grogu nodded slowly. You smiled at him appreciatively and grabbed the bottle from Din’s hand. Luckily, Grogu accepted the medication without much fuss.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

You frowned at the footsteps from the hallway outside which indicated that Din had returned from Grogu’s room yet again. This time, you did not bother to turn over to question him on the boy’s condition. You did not want Din to think you were smothering him, so you laid there quietly and tried to fall asleep.

You had been hoping that taking the medicine would help Grogu to settle. Unfortunately, the little boy continued fussing for the entire evening. Din had anxiously chewed his lip throughout, refusing to allow Grogu out of his sight.

The man would not bat an eyelid if there was something seriously wrong with him, but when it came to someone he loved, Din was frantic with worry. His protectiveness towards the people he loved was one of the things you loved most about your boyfriend.

You had been hoping for Din’s sake, as much as Grogu’s, that his condition would improve. But that was not to be. Grogu had been listless in Din’s arms. You wished that there was something that you could do to help make the vibrant little boy well again. All you could do was stand by Din’s side as he sat on Grogu’s bed, cuddling his son and giving them some privacy when Din finally tucked him in.

Din’s anxious vigil over Grogu continued well into the night, even after Grogu had finally fallen asleep, as his latest excursion across the hallway indicated.

Despite setting up the baby monitor and cuddling up to you in bed, Din could not settle, no no matter how many times he checked the device.

Making up for before was definitely off the cards. It was one of those things you had to be prepared for and expect when dating an older man with a child. You knew that Din’s priority was Grogu, he had never attempted to hide that fact from you.

So, when the sheets rustled and Din got out of bed yet again, you did not fuss or make him feel guilty for checking on his boy. You understood that he would not be able to rest until Grogu was well again.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

When you blinked awake early the next morning, the pale light of a new day streaming in through the windows, you did not feel the familiar soft snores which indicated Din Djarin was asleep by your side.

You were a little concerned when you rolled over to discover Din’s side of the bed empty. Your immediate fear was that Grogu’s condition had taken a turn for the worse, and Din had hurried out with him to hospital without having time to inform you.

Without hesitation, you pushed yourself from the bed and padded towards Grogu’s room, anxious for what you would discover in his tastefully furnished room.

Fortunately, you had no reason to fear.

You breathed a sigh of relief at the sight before you. Grogu was sleeping peacefully in his bed, while Din was on the floor at his side. Hulking physique barely hidden beneath a comically small blanket as he dozed.

The light streaming in through the curtains and colouring everything golden was so much like the vision you had outside the house in Notting Hill a few days ago, that it almost took your breath away. Perhaps the future you had been imagining was right here before you already. Without you even realising it.

Your heart ached at the sight. It was so touching that you contemplated grabbing your phone and snapping a picture of the perfect moment. Before you could, Din stirred, face immediately breaking into a smile once he laid eyes upon you.

“Morning, Sunflower,” Din groggily whispered.

“Morning, handsome,” you smiled, “Sleep well?”

“I did when I eventually got to sleep,” Din replied softly, careful not to wake Grogu.

“Why don’t I go and fix us some breakfast?” you questioned, eager to make yourself useful.

Din nodded gratefully, “That would be perfect.”

You blew a kiss to him before you left, deciding that pancakes would be the perfect pick-me-up for both Din and eventually Grogu, whenever he finally arose. You were relieved that Din had managed to get some sleep and that Grogu seemed to have settled.

After mixing the pancake batter and allowing it to sit for a few minutes, you were so engrossed in the task of making the sweet treats that you did not hear Din’s footsteps approaching. The first indication you had of his presence was a muscular pair of arms snaking around your waist.

“Din,” you warned, as he began kissing a path up your neck.

You refused to have the guilt of burning Din’s beautiful cottage to a crisp, too distracted by his attempt to seduce you.

“Wanna make up for last night?” he rasped into your ear, hot breath ghosting across the sensitive skin which caused a jolt of desire between your thighs.

“After I’ve finished the pancakes,” you murmured, “I worked hard on them.”

Tempting though the offer was, you were determined to treat Din to one of his favourite breakfast items. So, albeit reluctantly and not before stealing a kiss from your lips, Din retreated and patiently sat at the table, waiting for you to finish.

With the last pancake plated up, you turned to face Din. Who you discovered had stood up from the table to stand before you. Without wasting another second, he leaned in for a kiss. You groaned as he deepened it, tongue exploring yours. He tasted of minty toothpaste, indicating that his plan had not been entirely spontaneous.

“I love you,” Din whispered as he momentarily drew back, eyes overcome with an emotion you could not quite place as he cradled your chin with his hand, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb, “Thank you for being so patient with Grogu last night.”

“Of course, Din,” you smiled, giving his lips a quick peck.

When your lips met again, the frenzied desperation of moments ago was a distant memory. Din was taking his time, savouring the moment as he pinned you up against the kitchen counter. His lips descended lower and lower down your skin, trailing a hot path down the column of your neck before he pulled back your shirt, desperate to expose more skin as he nipped and sucked at your collarbone…

“Patu!”

Din instantly stopped his ministrations, drawing back from you as his chest heaved. You desperately hoped it wasn’t what you thought it was. But you would recognise that sound anywhere.

“Buir!”

There was no avoiding it now. The babbling from the baby monitor had interrupted the moment once again. Din flashed you an apologetic look and immediately dashed off to check on his son.

You sighed as you watched him go. You felt greedy to want Din all to yourself. After all, you had been equally concerned for Grogu’s welfare and loved him as much as Din did. Still, it had been so long that you had a moment together. You were frustrated that fate had conspired to keep you stressed and apart, even when together…

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

Grogu rallied throughout the afternoon, so much so that Din felt confident enough to call Kuiil to hire his services for a couple of hours, so the two of you could round off your weekend in your favourite way; taking a pleasant evening stroll together around the lush countryside near his house, before stopping for a pint in The Nevarro Arms.

The decision to visit here for the first time had been rather spontaneous, after the day you had entered the lake in Hyde Park. It seemed odd, the first time you had got in and met the landlord, a man called Greef Karga, that he had never met Din before. The Nevarro Arms appeared to be the centre of the little village in which Din lived. You shouldn’t have been surprised at the solitude you knew Din preferred, but you thought it was sad that he was so many miles from home and it hadn’t been until he met you that he had finally ventured out and about and shown his face in places.

Happily, it was now somewhere that you looked forward to visiting. Din had enthusiastically taken to pub culture. He had even come to enjoy the friendly conversations with Greef as he pulled two pints of your usual.

You loved your evenings at The Nevarro Arms. The atmosphere was cosy and homely, reminding you of home somehow in the feelings it provoked in you. You had come to learn that home was a feeling rather than a place.

This particular Sunday, though, was not like the others.

The first indication that something was different was the number of people that were gathered on the front step of the pub, next to the rose bushes that were underneath the old windows. You loathed busy pubs. A sinking feeling already began somewhere deep in the pit of your stomach.

You and Din flashed each other a curious glance, but proceeded to enter anyway.

An action that you regretted as soon as you stepped into the old pub and heard the relentless hum of people.

Your fears had been realised. The Nevarro Arms was far busier than the usual quiet Sunday evenings you had grown accustomed to. Once you took a closer look at your surroundings, you noticed that your usual table by the windows had been occupied. It only added to the chasm which was opening up in your chest. Greef always tried to save it for you, but there were many more people in here than usual.

You considered leaving, but you knew how much Din enjoyed his pints. So, you grabbed his hand and made your way over to the bar. Your favourite pub landlord enthusiastically greeted you, his entire face illuminating at the sight of you and Din.

“Nice to see you two! What can I get you, the usual?” Greef boomed.

“Yes please,” you smiled brightly, “Thank you, Greef.”

“Anything for two of my most valued customers! Sorry it’s a little bit busier here than normal tonight,” Greef said as he commenced pulling your pints.

“Oh it’s alright!” you lied, “Is there some kind of party?” you asked, inquisitively.

Greef nodded and leaned in towards you and Din, as though he were about to divulge state secrets.

“Apparently, one of the shows that films at the studios near here has just wrapped and a lot of the crew are having an unofficial wrap party before a bigger event in London next week.” Greef explained in hushed tones with a chuckle, “But don’t ask them for any details, they won’t tell me a thing!”

You threw your head back in laughter, but Din did not move a muscle. He suddenly looked incredibly anxious. You were concerned for him, but Greef handing your pint to you momentarily distracted you.

When Din paid for your drinks, you finally took a moment to observe him, noticing how his brown eyes roved across the pub. It was as though he was searching for a familiar face.

You were too distracted to let your mind wander that you were probably in a pub filled with people who had worked on your favourite TV show. Instead, you were preoccupied with the way Din’s fist had tensed, where he was resting it on the bar, at the mention of the TV show.

It was noticeable how his entire body suddenly went stiff. He looked around the pub apprehensively, shoulders slumping as though he was trying to hide. There he was again, giving the theories that Ria had more credence. Still, you knew Din didn’t like big groups of people. Especially strangers.

So you tried your best to push those doubts to the back of your mind, even if it was part of a larger pattern that had caused you to question certain things over the course of your relationship.

Din’s behaviour after you left the bar and found a table however, gave you increasing cause for concern. As you sat there, sipping your usual pint of cider, he was quiet, withdrawn. Chewing his lip nervously as his brown eyes stared so intently at the pint of cider on the table like it was the only thing in the world. It was almost as if he had physically shrunk in stature, broad shoulders hunched over, as though he was trying to make himself as small as possible.

Suddenly, it was as though the transcripts of conversations you had had late at night with your friends in the groupchat came flooding back. Their reactions when you had told them about the proximity of your boyfriend’s place to the studios where your collective favourite TV show was filmed, how they had been so keen to get the gossip about it from a local and begged you to bring it up.

Half of them were convinced Din worked on The Mandalorian but was sworn to secrecy, it had started in jest at first, but the more you told them about Din, the more crazy theories they were making. It had been fun at first, but they needed to remember it was your actual life! It was far from the playful way that Ria kept ribbing you that he was actually playing Mando, they were veering into conspiracy theory territory.

Perhaps they had been onto something after all. Din’s entire demeanour had completely shifted since Greef had told you what the party was in honour of.

You looked up from the table where you were sitting and noticed what you were sitting in front of. It was a spot in the pub you had always gazed at as you walked past, but never had the chance to sit and admire. Din was always eager to quickly move past this particular section of the pub.

With it being the only available table tonight, it seemed that you would finally have your chance to bring up something you had been dying to for weeks. It wasn’t as though your boyfriend was particularly forthcoming with conversation, either.

So you sat there, glancing up at the pictures and art that was a sort of shrine to the sci-fi franchise that was, in your mind, the most iconic of all time. A franchise that you had grown up with, but never truly loved until you watched Mando, the show that had comforted you at your worst moments.

The fact that Din might be linked to that piqued your curiosity as much as it concerned you, given his current bizarre behaviour.

So, you decided to finally bring it up. You were tired of all the uncertainty:

“It’s pretty cool that they have all this memorabilia from the productions filmed here,” you observed, as you gazed around at all of the signed photos and posters that had been donated by various cast members, including by the big three from the original Star Wars trilogy.

“It is,” Din nodded, deliberately avoiding making eye contact with you.

His brown eyes were fixated on a menu in a way that was unusual, considering you were so known for ordering the same thing every weekend that Greef knew precisely what you were going to order when you walked up to the bar to place it.

“I do think it’s kind of a crazy coincidence, though, how my favourite show shoots only a mile away from here. A mile from where you live,” you shrugged, sipping your cider thoughtfully, “Have you ever seen any of the cast around?”

“No, I haven’t,” Din replied sharply.

“It’s just a weird coincidence, that’s all. You say work brought you here to Nevarro and yet, apart from those studios, there is nothing else here.”

“Yep. Weird coincidence,” Din confirmed, still not making eye contact with you. Staring at the menu for so long that you knew he could have read it ten times over.

“Wait, why are you being so defensive? It’s not like you’re actually The Mandalorian,” you questioned teasingly, laughing at what you thought was clearly a joke.

Your laughs soon died on your lips, as you noticed Din’s reaction to the joke. He tensed up completely, flinching as you had said that name.

You were sure you had seen him visibly recoil.

There was something there, you knew it.

Still, at that moment your chief concern was for him. The playful banter and flirting that had been present on the walk you had enjoyed before you had stopped here for your usual pint were gone, replaced by a tension and unease in the air that made you feel sick to the pit of your stomach.

“Wait, Din… I was only joking,” you clarified, fearing that despite everything, you had upset him.

“Finish your drink. Then let’s go,” Din said, slamming down the menu on the table and draining his pint with the astonishing quickness of a seasoned cider drinker that you knew he was not. Perhaps he needed some Dutch courage.

“We can just leave, Din,” you reassured him. Suddenly the rest of your pint did not appeal to you, despite how much you enjoyed it and could taste the freshness of the apples that were farmed only a few miles away from here, “I don’t want you to be upset.”

Din nodded and stood to his feet, offering you his hand. He was being astonishingly quiet and your heart ached, seeing him retreat into his shell like this. The cosy Sunday evening that you had been so looking forward to all week – The Nevarro Arms really had the best cider offerings – would not be on the menu today. Instead, just a lot of tension and unease. It was the worst possible way to end your weekend.

It almost broke your heart.

You had almost made it out of the pub without further incident. You could see the pale blue sky after the sunset through the glass of the door, you could almost taste the sweet air of the warm summer night.

Then, it happened.

The moment which caused your jaw to drop in disbelief.

The moment which proved to you beyond all doubt that your suspicions had not been unfounded delusions.

As, at the same moment that you went to push on the heavy door that led to the quiet street outside the pub, it opened from the other side. You almost stumbled forward as the door you were expecting to be there had already been opened, but fortunately you caught yourself in time.

At first you were slightly disoriented, but then you noticed that you had almost crashed into someone else. He was a portly man who was taller than you. You had not yet looked at his face, just saw his chest area and the bright blue polo shirt he was wearing.

As you trailed your eyes upwards, your mouth opened in shock. Staring right back at you, from behind a pair of black glasses, was a man that you would recognise anywhere.

A man who had created the character that you loved more than anything else in the world.

A man whose scripts you had poured over for hours and hours, both by yourself and with your friends.

The man standing before you was Jim Freeman, creator of The Mandalorian.

But he wasn’t even looking at you. It was like you were invisible, despite the fact you had almost bumped into each other.

No, his brown eyes were looking straight over your shoulder.

Jim Freeman was staring at Din. The flicker of recognition across his face was unmistakable.

Somehow, the writer and creator of The Mandalorian knew your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend who had, just minutes ago, frozen up completely when you had jokingly accused him of being The Mandalorian. Your head was spinning.

You turned to look back at Din, a question on your lips. A question that was never asked. Din placed his hand on the small of your back and practically shoved you through the door, apologising to Jim on the way out.

Somehow you had made it out of the pub, but you were now standing there on the pavement, frozen. Your brain was struggling to catch up, to piece together everything that had happened.

You were brought back by the sounds of Din’s footsteps as he walked away at a brisk pace. Should you follow him? Should you stay here and confront him?

No, that would cause a scene. You were reeling from what had just happened, but you knew you had to follow him. There was no avoiding the conversation that needed to take place now. You couldn’t comprehend it, if you were right, if what your gut was telling you was correct, Din had more than a little explaining to do.

How could this even be possible? This kind of thing just did not happen to people like you.

You realised, with a sickening clarity that felt like a punch to your gut, that Din had been hiding something huge from you. There was no other explanation for his behaviour.

As you followed his silhouette down the country lanes, your mind was replaying all the little memories, the moments that had caused you to question who he was.

The first time you met, the comment he had made to Grogu about the Sutton Hoo helmet, the way that Din had mentioned being at the convention, how uncomfortable he seemed when you passed that child in the Mando shirt at the zoo.

The pieces were all falling together for you. But it couldn’t be true… how could it? This was surely the universe’s idea of a sick joke. There was no way that this man who had once been so shy and reserved, who was such a devoted father could be the same man behind the most fearsome bounty hunter in the galaxy. Who, onscreen, could snap a platoon of Stomtrooper’s necks like it was nothing.

You knew Mando wasn’t real, that whoever was behind him was just an actor, but the contrast…. It was too much for you to comprehend that he could be the same person.

Din continued marching ahead of you. You had noticed that he did not take your hand like he usually did, indeed as he had done when you set out on your walk before stopping at the pub. Instead, he walked several paces ahead of you, eager to get home. You were about to tell him to slow down, to wait up, but he looked back over his shoulder and called out to you.

“Please, let’s just get home,” Din said desperately, out of breath on a walk that did not usually exert someone of his fitness level.

You were stunned, he had never treated you like this.

Suddenly, whatever he was hiding from you seemed unimportant compared to this new side of him that you were being exposed to. Din had always been so careful, so caring, so attentive around you. This behaviour was unlike anything you had ever seen from him before. It made your blood run cold, sent a shiver down your spine that was unrelated to the rapidly cooling countryside air after the sun had finally set and the shorts you were dressed in.

Luckily, Din’s cottage was not too far from the pub and before too long you were walking across the uneven slabs in the front garden which led to the door.

However, Din was so anxious that he was fumbling with the stiff, old lock. It almost took him longer to open the door than it took to walk back from the pub. You felt your worry increase as you noticed the way Din’s hands were trembling. He never seemed fazed by anything, until your little joke.

Finally, he opened the door and stepped inside.

Din did not even look back at you. He kicked his shoes off and removed his coat, as if he was some kind of robot. He was about to ascend the stairs up to Grogu’s room, but you called after him, enraged about the way he was ignoring you. Especially after the events which had transpired in The Nevarro Arms.

“Din, please tell me what on Earth is going on?” you almost shouted, near hysterical at this point.

“Please, keep it down!” Din pleaded as he paused on the stairs, “Grogu is probably sleeping and Kuiil is still here. Let me get rid of him, and then we need to talk,” Din whispered.

“Alright,” you breathed, your arms folded across your body in a self-soothing gesture, shaking your head as you glared at him.

You were spiralling. What had he been hiding from you, all this time?

Clearly, your body language unnerved Din. He addressed you once again, brown eyes wide with worry.

“Please, Sunflower… I promise we will talk. Why don’t you go and start a fire outside in the pit? I'll just say goodnight to Kuiil and set up the baby monitor. Then I’ll be out to join you,” Din begged, his eyes glinting despite the darkness of the cottage.

If you weren’t so unbelievably annoyed at him, you were certain that you would be marvelling at how absurdly handsome he looked even with the lack of light as he ascended the stairs opposite the door.

The brown shirt and dark blue jeans that he had worn for your walk was one of your favourite outfits. Din had allowed his brown hair to grow slightly longer over the past few weeks and you marvelled once more at how much it suited him.

And his eyes…

Those deep brown eyes had made your heart ache for all the right reasons over the past few weeks, but now they were breaking you for a very different reason.

Your mind was racing as you made your way to the outside to light a fire in the fire pit. Simultaneously eager to have and dreading the difficult conversation you were certain was heading your way. Your hands shook uncontrollably as you gathered the kindling and placed the logs in the fire pit.

Din found you out there a few minutes later in the darkness, still struggling with the matches. He had silently crept outside and shocked you with his presence. Much like how he had snuck up on you earlier that morning as you made him pancakes. Except this time, there was no kissing. This time, there was no laughter.

Din gently took the box from you and struck the matches with alarming ease, despite how nervous he looked. You weren’t sure if it was just the chilly air, or the fact that what he was about to tell you was something that was making him incredibly nervous.

With the flames finally leaping into the darkness and finally providing some much needed warmth, Din took a seat on one of the logs by the fire pit. You remained on your feet, pacing around anxiously while he watched.

“Din, please explain to me your bizarre reaction to that question and why the guy who I know for a fact created The Mandalorian looked at you like that,” your voice trembled, struggling to get the words out that you knew could make or break everything.

Din could not make eye contact with you, fiddling with his thumbs as he stared into the flames.

“Please, don’t lie to me. I need to know the truth,” you implored him.

Din sighed deeply, clearly gathering himself together. You braced yourself for whatever it was.

When he finally spoke, you were scarcely able to believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.

“There’s… there’s something I’ve been hiding from you since we first met,” Din finally speaks, his ordinarily measured, steady voice cracking and uncertain. “I just… There were so many times when I should have told you, when I could have spared you any pain. I didn’t want it to come out like this, I didn’t want you to connect the dots without me…” Din was about to continue, but you couldn’t help your reaction.

“Oh my god… it’s true…” you whispered, hand coming up to clamp over your mouth in surprise. It felt like your stomach had just fallen out of your body. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth as your knees threatened to buckle underneath you. You could not comprehend what you were sure he was about to tell you.

“I’m so sorry,” Din breathed.

“I need to hear you say it,” you demanded, shaking your head at him.

“I’m… I am The Mandalorian…” Din whispered. His voice trembled and his shoulders hunched forward as he said those words that confirmed your suspicions, “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner…”

“Did you… know?” you whispered, feeling the hot sting of tears beginning to burn your eyes and cheeks harshly, “I mean, did you know how much I love the show when you started dating me?”

“Sunflower, listen. I…” Din stuttered.

“Don’t call me that!” you shouted, voice far louder than you intended. You were not prepared to give him a second to justify his actions, instantly following up with another question, “Is that why you targeted me, Din? Oh she loves Mando, she’ll be easy to use for a quick fuck!”

“No, I would never do that,” Din shook his head emphatically, but you were not satisfied.

“All these months, I’ve been so honest with you,” you choked, struggling to hold back the tears now, “Look where it got me!”

“Please, listen to me. I can explain, I…” Din pleaded.

“How many other girls have you used like this, Din Djarin? How many other girls have you held your title, your role over them to get them into bed!” you were hysterical now. Fortunately, the fire pit was away from the house so there was no danger of waking Grogu.

“I never used my role to influence you, to get you into bed. How could I, when you had no idea?” Din added calmly, “The way I felt about you was real. Everything about us… it’s always been real. I regret keeping that from you, but I promise, I have never lied to you when I told you I loved you.”

“How many others?” you gritted out, certain that if Din had lied to you about one thing, there must be more secrets he was keeping.

All those insecurities came flooding back to you. How could someone like Din ever have fallen for you, a lowly museum worker?

“You are the only one, baby, please. I love you,” Din whispered, his eyes filling with tears as he stood up and approached you.

“No, shut the fuck up, Din! You do not do something like this and then tell me that you love me! Our entire relationship, built on a lie. The worst lie you could have ever told me,” you were powerless, now, to stop the trembling, nor the tears that streaked down your cheeks, “My friends, they suspected something, tried to tell me that it was suspicious how rich you were and how close you lived to the studios. They knew! I told them they were delusional, turns out I was the delusional one for ever trusting you!”

“I know. I regret not telling you, more than you could know. But I just…” Din could hardly get a word in, your hysterical ramblings continued:

“Oh my god, that night in the suite. When I got the bottle of champagne delivered and it was for Jim Freeman, it wasn’t a mistake or a coincidence. Fuck!” you yelled, sobbing now, “It was him! The Jim Freeman, you knew back then and you didn’t tell me. We slept together, Din! We told each other we loved each other! I got close to your son! How could you lie like this?!”

“Look. I know how angry you are…” Din began.

“ANGRY?! Din, I’m devastated!” you bellowed.

Din took a step back from you.

You took a second to compose yourself, and added in a quieter voice, “I feel used, lied to.”

“Please don’t–”

“I feel like a fool. I feel humiliated. I just, I can’t do this anymore,” you admitted.

“Please don’t leave me, don’t leave me and Grogu,” Din pleaded as he took a step towards you and tried to reach his hand out to you.

“Don’t you dare use Grogu against me, Din!” you exclaimed as you stepped backwards, away from him. “I love that little boy and he is innocent in all of this! It’s not his fault his father is a fucking liar!”

“I know, I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean it like that,” Din instantly apologised.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” you said, from behind gritted teeth, “Or were you just going to lie to me forever?”

“Baby, I tried my hardest never to lie to you. I just… I couldn’t tell you the truth, my identity has to stay secret…” Din explained, the term of endearment he used boiling your blood further.

“Oh don’t start with that, Din!” you exclaimed. “I don’t care what legal agreements you have. You should have told me! We were talking about moving in together, about making a life together. How could you do that when you knew you were keeping such a secret from me?”

“I… I didn’t know how to tell you. I’m sorry. I just wanted to protect you. I was going to tell you so many times, but I’ve been a coward,” Din said, staring down at the ground below as his broad shoulders drooped. He looked so forlorn, so broken that your heart ached despite your anger.

“Yes, you are!” you exclaimed, “You’re a complete coward, and a liar!”

There was silence for a few moments as the two of you stood there. You were breathing deeply, you could hear your pulse throbbing in your ears. Your jaw was clenched so tightly that you feared it would hurt tomorrow.

You looked over towards the fire, focusing on the way it leapt into the air and the sounds of the wood crackling to ground yourself. The rage you had felt slowly dissipated, replaced with something on an entirely different spectrum of emotions: sadness and defeat.

“Please, let’s talk about this…” Din begged.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Din,” you said quietly, the anger in your voice had been replaced with sorrow. You were defeated, broken, “I have nothing to say to you.”

“Well let me just tell you over, and over, how sorry I am,” Din begged, his deep voice strained.

“You can, but I won’t accept it,” you sighed, folding your arms against the chill that you suddenly felt. The fire had lost its effectiveness with the strong emotions that coursed through your veins.

“At least let me call you a ride home and let me wait with you while it arrives?” Din offered.

“Call me that cab but I’m waiting outside. I can’t do this,” you said, shaking your head as you walked away from him.

You had thought that you had got all of your anger and aggression out of your system, but as you entered the back door of the cottage and walked through the kitchen, you felt something stirring inside of you.

You stopped by the fridge which had a collection of Grogu’s drawings – drawings of you and Din, drawings that you had helped Grogu with – pinned to it with magnets. Din had not only ruined the relationship between the two of you, he had robbed you of all the love and affection you held for Grogu, affection that Grogu clearly held for you. There were drawings of sunflowers, childish scribbles in crayon of yellow, black and green that were unmistakably the flower which Din had associated with you after your very first meeting you.

As you stood there, seething, you felt the rage bubbling up inside of you again.

When Din finally entered the cottage behind you after calling the cab, you bolted. You headed straight for the front door.

Before you left completely, you turned over your shoulder and threw three words at him that you regretted the second they were out, that you could never take back: “I HATE YOU!”

Din was standing there in your wake as you made your way outside. You refused to look back, fearing that if you did, you would see how upset he was. Your heart would break at the sight of his devastation. If you saw him so broken, you feared that you would never leave.

But you had to. There was no way you could ever trust him again.

The anger dissipated as you stood there, shivering in the cold. Replaced with deep sadness. The tears had returned, now streaming down your cheeks silently. You did take one last look back at the cottage, though, as you looked up to the window of the room that you knew belonged to Grogu.

“Goodbye Grogu,” you whispered, whimpering slightly as you uttered the words.

The little boy that you loved so much was completely innocent in all of this. He had been through so much and deserved everything, it wasn’t his fault that his father was a despicable coward.

Mercifully, the taxi arrived quickly and you did not have to stand there for too long. You clambered in without hesitation.

There was no dramatic scene like something straight out of a rom-com where Din came bounding down the path, making an apology that you accepted instantly. Before he declared his love for you and scooped you up into his arms and took you inside. No, you just got into the cab when it arrived and sat there in absolute silence until the driver confirmed your address and that your journey had already been paid for. Then, you moved off.

Before the secluded little cottage that you had spent so many days making such happy memories with Din faded away into the distance, you had already descended into full body sobs in the back of the cab, with only a bemused cabbie for company.

Despite everything, you yearned to feel Din at your side, his comforting soothing presence as he wrapped you up in his arms and made you feel safe. It was a cottage that you had created so many memories of with the man that you had unquestionably fallen in love with.

It hurt that those memories were now with the very man who had lied to you. A man who had abused your trust in the worst way possible. The gravity of his lie was too great to even entertain his excuses, that he loved you, that he wanted to protect you. It was all just empty words to make him feel better.

As the cottage faded out of sight, you knew with absolute certainty that it was the last time you would ever lay eyes upon it. You would never see Din again. He had broken your heart, shattered it entirely.

Getting involved with an older man with far much more money than you could ever hope to earn had always been a risk, you had known that.

Still, most younger women got their heart broken for completely different reasons in these situations. Yours was a unique situation that may have been comical, were it not so utterly devastating.

How could you even begin to comprehend that the very same man who had been with you for months had been behind the character that you had fallen with?

All the times that you had marvelled at how quickly you had bonded with Din, how you felt as though you had known him for a while… you realised with a sickening twist in your stomach that you had.

That the very man you had been falling in love with for the past few months was the person from your favourite TV show, a show that had gotten you through your worst days and darkest hours, now you wouldn’t even have Mando there for you.

Your spiralling, rapid thoughts were interrupted by the taxi pulling up outside your building.

Din had already paid for your taxi, so mercifully the human interaction was kept to a bare minimum as you exited, grateful that the darkness hid your puffy, tear-stained cheeks. You ascended the stairs up to your poxy flat, fumbling with the keys on shaking hands just as Din had done before you finally unlocked the door.

It was past midnight now, you should have been cuddled up with Din in his idyllic cottage, not returning to your flat alone, brokenhearted. But life was cruel and here you were, entering your cold, dark flat alone.

Before you even grasped your intentions, you marched to your bedroom. You tore your beloved Mando poster off the wall, ripping it to shreds with your bare hands before the destructive act even sunk in. You wanted nothing more to do with that show, you never wanted to even think about it again.

The Mando figures on your bookshelves were snatched up too, thrown in the bin without even a second thought. Some of them were collectibles worth a considerable sum, but you didn’t even care.

You fantasised about melting their stupid fucking helmets off.

With your destruction complete and your bedroom entirely Mando-free, you pulled your phone out to type the message to Ria with the words that you could scarcely believe were true. You briefly contemplated that you were probably violating several dozen Disney NDAs by doing so. But you didn’t care, quite frankly. Din deserved it. You typed, with shaking fingers:

[mandoismine] 00:07 - you were right. din djarin is the mandalorian.

Then you pulled the covers tight around yourself, and cried yourself to sleep.

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