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netherfeildren · 1 year

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FEAR OF GOD : Chapter II : Although a monster [Joel] could be charming in company

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC

Content Warnings: Angst, possessive behavior, unprotected sex (there are no condoms in the apocalypse, only vibes), oral sex (f!receiving), squirting, brief non-graphic descriptions of medical procedures / illness, brief discussion of avoiding meals (no reference to any sort of ED), stupid! Joel ™️

Summary: Joel gets a little stupid and a little jealous.

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: I wanted to mention that that I've altered the timeline a smidge to benefit my own whims. So the Joel we find here is about 50-51 and our reader is in her mid to late 20's (cw: age gap 🤓) Everything else in the timeline is the same up until Joel and Ellie return to Jackson.

Another thing, I hella make shit up in this chapter. I talk about a surgical device and there’s discussions of like mechanical/electrical engineering? which I know fuck all about. So if it reads as nonsense I sincerely apologize. There’s a fair bit of character/world building in this ch. so I hope you all can bear with me for a smidge. There is the gift of porn at the end though >:)

Chapter title is from Anne Carson’s Autobiography of Red (my favorite book in the whole world which everyone should read). Art is Intimacy by Angelica Alzona

Word count: a whopping 9.6k (I'm so sorry 😭)

Read on AO3

CHAPTER II: Although a monster [Joel] could be charming in company

What it looked like?

Like fucking the forest for once birdless, beastless.

Like measuring the distance between all that’s lost

and everything else that, even now, waved at

hard enough sometimes,

will sometimes wave back.

But it felt like swallowing the sea–

being forced to, ships and all.

Then a silence as vast as it was particular.

The like holding a mirror up to Apollo

and expecting his face there, when Apollo’s always been

faceless, obviously, being a god.

And the hand still holding the mirror up anyway.

And the face not showing.

-Carl Phillips, Star Map with Action Figures

“I mean, yeah, I’d fuckin’ like to think so. I’m not sure. She told me –”

“Ellie, you’re overthinking the hell out of it.”

“I am not,” she grumbles.

“You’re a dumbass,” you deadpan.

That riles her up. “Me?! You!”

“What’ve I done? It’s pretty obvious what’s happening here – Dina wants you to ask her out – you’re too chicken shit to step up.”

“Okay, genius. Y’don’t know what you’re talking about, first of all.” The sass on this girl, honestly. The two of you sit together at the picnic tables that’d been set out in the town center for the monthly barbecue. “You think you’re so damn smart. Well lemme just ask you this, what’s going on with Joel? You two’ve been weird as fuck lately.” That shuts you up quick.

“Don’t even start with that. The answer is nothing.”

She gives you that knowing look of hers, but let’s it go. Silently says: I know this hurts, so I won’t push. Out loud: “You started it, motherfucker.” You yank on her bangs, and she swats you away. “Maybe I should call you a fatherfucker instead,” she cackles.

“Oh my god, I actually hate you.” You try and swat her back, yank on her bangs again.

“What’re you two schemin’ about?” Joel’s voice comes from behind you.

“Speak’a the devil,” she says under her breath, starting to gather up her empty plate.“Nothing–” She shoots up, and brushes past, “Gotta go. We’ll talk later,” not even sparing him a glance. You look between the two of them wishing there was anything you could do to help them bridge this cold distance between them. She turns before walking off, gives you the finger behind his back.

“Ellie, hold on a sec,” you call after her, but she’s off.

“It’s fine,” Joel says. “Leave it.”

“I’m sorry,” shielding your eyes from the bright sun, you look up into his serious face.

He shakes his head. “Nothin’ for you to be sorry about. Ain’t got nothin’ to do with you.” And that stings. Off-handedly as it’s said, it stings that he thinks their rift doesn’t affect you, make you hurt for the two of them.

How could he ever think that after everything he’d told you about Sarah – a night that’d made you feel closer to him than ever before, while you two lay in bed, still damp and trembling – that you’d not worry about his relationship now with Ellie? Who you knew he loved like a daughter, even if he was incapable of saying it out loud. How could he think it had nothing to do with you now? After what he’d told you about himself in the aftermath of Sarah. That moment, his confession, could sustain you for a lifetime of this push and pull if necessary. With trust like that, what else mattered? Very little, you thought.

“You get everything done you needed to?” he threads his fingers through the hair at the nape of your neck, and bends to press a soft kiss to your temple.

You sigh, basking in this small tenderness he offers you after his casual hurt. “Yeah, we finished.” Sometimes you wonder if there’s something wrong with you, taking all this in stride. Luxuriating in his offerings of tenderness and vulnerability one second, swallowing the way he casually brushes you off another. Surely there must be something wrong with you. Especially because, when it comes down to it, you don’t really care as much as you think you should .

“How’d it go?” You’d had to debride some areas from Mr. Schwartz’s diabetic foot this morning – super fun for the both of you . The foot was famous in Jackson. A great source of shrieks and giggles when the old man decided to pull it out in front of the kids as his so-called ‘party trick’. We all gotta bring something fun to the table, honey, he’d tell you when you tried to put on your false tone of admonishment with him.

“Long – I had to take more than I’d initially thought I’d need to.”

“He alright?”

“Resting now… Just means it’ll be harder for him later on – take longer to recover, as best he can, in any case. And ideally, what he really needs is a boot – which we have – one… but it’s not in great condition. I don’t even know if it’ll fit him – or a wheelchair, and both of them are being used right now. So, seems my only other option is to order him into bed until I can figure something else out. And of course Connie’s all, this is on you, honey. I trust your judgment, honey. ” You deepen your tone and scrunch your brow trying to inflect Connie’s baritone. “As if that’s helpful.”

He grips your chin, forcing you to take a breath, brushes his thumb across your bottom lip, and your eyes flutter shut, pressing a tiny kiss to the pad of his thumb. He hums a little, and you catch the flare of heat in his eyes. “You’ll worry yourself half to death, little bird. Take a breath.” You huff a small laugh. He was right about that, worry was heavy on your mind recently. About lots of different things.

“I fixed you a plate,” you divert.

“You didn’t have to do that, sweetheart. Thank you.” He swings his long leg over the bench to sit astride it, legs open to pull you between his thighs.

“S’alright. I was getting Connie’s anyway.” He digs in, and you card your fingers through his thick hair – overly long now, it brushes the collar of his shirt in the back, you’ll need to cut it for him soon – and watch the thick column of his throat ripple as he swallows. You press your thighs together – the sun is so strong today. You think it might be making you a little delirious.

“You’re not eating.” It isn’t a question, posed more like an admonishment, paired with the severe crook of his brow.

“Nah, I’m alright. Can’t have anything just yet after staring at that foot all morning,” you joke.

“You telling me you’re not as entertained by it as the kids are?”

You roll your eyes at him. “Shocking, I know.”

He turns to give you an assessing glance now, “You sure you’re alright?”

“Just tired.” You lay your head in the cool, dark crook of his neck, breathe him in. “Birdie …” voice laced with concern – he tries to gently tug you back by your ponytail, but you burrow in further – press your lips to the pulsing vein in his neck. “I’m fine, Joel. Just tired, really.” He huffs. Grouchy man.

“Hi, honey,” Connie shuffles up to the table. “Joel–” he nods, “You two alright ? That go a long time with Mr. Shwartz?” he asks.

You’re grateful for the distraction from Joel’s fifth degree. “It was fine. Our handy dandy Bovie is so good.” You’d done your best recently to fashion an electrocautery device, like the ones they’d used before in surgery. The two of you had gathered the different parts over time and much voracious scavenging, to put the system together. “You’ve gotta try it next. We should be real proud of that.”

“You should be proud. You’ve got a nice mechanical mind in you, as well. You know, Joel, the body is just a machine of flesh and blood.” Connie turns his blue eyes, gone slightly milky now, on Joel, ready to impart his slice of wisdom – part lecture, part proud tirade for your benefit, as the younger man continues to work through his plate of barbecue. “She looks at the two the same way; it’s very impressive.”

Joel finishes chewing: “Our girl is nothin’ if not impressive,” he says, giving you an impish little smirk. You pinch the inside of his thigh over the thick denim, not imparting nearly enough punishment as you’d like to.

“Shut up,” you grouch at him. “Anyways, the lines were pretty sharp, the cauterization clean. A bit slow, though. I felt a bit held back – but not too bad, considering.”

“Considering…” Connie muses. He starts to eat as well, and the sight of the slick, sauce covered meat is slightly revolting. The sun is way too hot with the change of season into fall just on the cusp, and after staring at poor Mr. Schwartz’s mangled foot all day… “I’m thinking with a little more juice it’ll be perfect. We just have to find a way to feed it more power without frying the whole system.”

“Yes… it’s delicate,” he says slowly.”You should ask Noah for advice.” Joel is silent beside you, but you feel the tensing of his thigh beneath your palm at the mention of Noah’s name. “He’s always been very keen to help us in any way we need.”

“Oh, has he?” Joel drawls, in that monotone he loves to use when cutting people down. He can’t fucking stand Noah; it’s quite funny to you, actually. You nudge his knee with your own, still cradled between his spread legs, and drag your nails slowly up and down his thigh, only responding with a non-committal hum. He shifts his jaw in that way he’s wont to do when he’s especially aggravated, cocks his eyebrow at you. You give him a tiny little mocking tilt of your head. You’re sure he can see the laughter at his expense in your eyes.

“Yes,” Connie continues, completely oblivious to the silent conversation going on between the two of you, “He’s very adept at anything electrical or mechanical. Although, you are, as well, Joel. Perhaps you could advise us too. Any help would be greatly appreciated.”

“I wouldn’t say that, but I can take a look. Offer what I can.”

You change the subject: “Teddy’s been in again this week.” One of the single mother’s in Jackson, Susanna’s son, Teddy, had been continuously ill the past few months. Coming down with different, seemingly unrelated afflictions on and off. His mother was beside herself with worry, and you and Connie were reaching your limits on what you could do to help him. Much less actually provide a clear answer as to a diagnosis.

“Yes, I spoke to his mother last night. Some sort of ague again, undoubtedly.”

You roll your eyes at him affectionately. Connie loved to condemn undiagnosable patients with ‘the ague’. “Connie, the ague is absolutely not a valid form of diagnosis,” you laugh. That launches him into a tirade about the conundrum the boys posed to the both of you these past few weeks. And ague is a perfectly valid explanation, honey. Neither of you are certain what’s causing his bouts of illness. Though you’re reluctantly leaning towards something that won’t pose anything good for any of you; you’re trying to remain optimistic, but the uncertainty is taking a toll on the both of you, as well as his mother.

As Connie goes on, there’s a hazy buzz rumbling around in your brain. Your temples throb, and you press the tender spot into the hard mass of Joel’s shoulder. He’s finished eating now, and you nuzzle into him, breathe in the warm scent of his skin and sweat, grip the hard swell of his bicep – the thick muscle has the most inappropriate arousal pooling low in your belly, but your stomach churns at the same time, and the sun is so damn bright. Too many opposing sensations going on within you all at once, you’re sure you’re on the verge of sun poisoning – dramatic – and it’s making you needy. Infecting you with ideas of crawling into his lap and having him cradle you. He stiffens beneath your attentions suddenly. The soothing large palm he’d been dragging up and down your spine goes still, pausing with his fingertips tucked just below the waistband of your jeans – as if he’s just now realizing how openly affectionate the two of you are being – his muscles go rigid at your display, and then that’s it. He’s pulling away.

Your gut twists again, your head is really spinning now – you straighten in your seat, scoot back and out of the cradle of his thighs, as far as the bench allows you. Always fucking pulling away. He’s stiff and uncomfortable, but at your retreat he clicks his tongue at you, frowns a little, and you want to snap at his subtle admonishment – you started it, what are you frowning at me for?

Connie is still going on about Teddy. “You sure you’re alright, dear?” he interrupts himself. “You look a bit peaky.”

“I’m fine.” You stand abruptly, “I’ve got to head back, actually.” Joel turns to reach for you, but you step back and away from his fingers. The heat is definitely making you grouchy, sick; you’re not acting yourself. “I promised Mr. Schwartz I’d be back to check on him within the hour.” You don’t want to look at Joel anymore – you’re used to his sudden bouts of tension – discomfort – but something is setting you on edge today.

“You should eat something before you go, honey,” Connie says – looking up at you with concern.

“I had something before I came. I’m okay.” You turn to look at Joel now, as the lie passes your lips, a provocation held in your eyes and tone.

He frowns, “You said –”

“I’ll see you two later.”

“Birdie –” But you’ve turned from him before he can continue, walking away quickly. Your head is spinning, gut cramping and turning over on itself. The sun feels like it’s two feet away from you, bearing down on the crown of your head, and you know you’re about to be sick. Always fucking pulling away, always. It embarrasses you a little that you still chafe at it, the back of your eyes pinching and saliva pooling heavy on your tongue. You know the way he is.

You make it back to the clinic just in time to vomit behind the bushes on the side of the house.

Jesus.

Susanna brings Teddy into the clinic late in the evening. You’ve just finished writing up your operative note for the ‘famous foot’ (Mr. Schwartz’s words, not yours) when she flies in, frantic, with the listless child in her arms. She tells you he’d been lethargic and without an appetite all day, but she’d chalked it up to fatigue and melancholy from being ill and bedridden so often, recently. His fever had crept up out of nowhere, and now Teddy was almost unconscious, burning hot and delirious – words slurring, eyes glassy.

It’d been hours since then. Teddy was now resting quietly with cool compresses and ice bags tucked under his arms and against his neck which seemed to be helping. Susanna had retired to the back of the house to rest for a bit, and you now sat between Mr. Schwartz and the boy, quietly reading over a text both you and Connie had already gone over multiple times – hoping to find anything that’d inspire an explanation. Most concerningly of all, you’d noticed a smattering of purple-yellowish, sickly looking bruises along Teddy’s spine. It pushed you in the direction your mind had previously taken concerning what could potentially be the cause of all of this. And even though it was the first you’d seen of any bruising on him, it didn’t reassure you at all.

“Joel’s here,” Nancy, the nurse that worked with you and Connie, says quietly from the doorway. You stand from your bedside vigil, sighing. It’s late, and you don’t want to do this now. A little embarrassed from your earlier fit. A lot tired from the long day and throwing up and the heat.

“Can you come out and get me in two minutes, please? Interrupt us.”

She gives you an assessing look. “Sure.”

You walk out to the office to find him leaning against your cluttered desk, bulging arms crossed against his chest, straining the sleeves of his button down. There’s a far off look in his eyes, scowl marring his brow, but when he looks up at you all the tightness in his countenance seems to melt away at the sight of you. “You alright?” His gaze is assessing – sweeping up and down your frame, taking everything in like always. The man sees entirely too much.

“I’m fine. I need to stay here tonight, though.” You jerk your thumb back towards the exam room. “They need me.”

“You said you were tired.”

“It passed – just the sun.” He looks at you like he doesn’t really believe you.

“About earlier—”

“It’s fine, Joel.” You feel too tired, too strung out, to give him an out by pretending to ignore that he’d hurt you, pissed you off. Let it be what it was – you had a sick child to care for – couldn’t think about all the distance that would seemingly exist forever between the two of you, not right now, at least.

“You lied about eating.”

Oh, now he wanted to be fucking honest. You roll your eyes at him, watch his jaw clench. “What?” Tone bratty and antagonistic, “No I didn’t – you misunderstood.”

“You told me you didn’t want to eat, and then you told Connie, not fifteen minutes later, that you’d already eaten.”

“Well then I misspoke – that’s not what I meant.” You turn away from him towards the desk, busy your hands with the papers littered across its surface to avoid his eyes. You feel like fighting – like baring your teeth at him, and you hate it. You don’t want to fight with him, ever. You want, need, things to be okay between the two of you. “Why are we arguing about this? I have to get back.” The bite in your voice startles you for a second, and your hands pause their shuffling. Turning back to face him, wide eyed and shocked at the way you practically spit the words at him, but, fuck it, you decide to just go with it.

He doesn’t let you, though – doesn’t take your bait. You watch the muscle in his jaw feather rapidly as he grinds his teeth, fists curled into knots at his sides like he’s trying to restrain himself from throttling you – and you think you’d kind of like him to do it. You’ve gotta be PMSing or something because where is all this sudden desire for violence coming from? You definitely need to sleep soon.

He exhales a slow breath through his nose. “Not try’na argue, baby… just figure out what’s wrong.” Your heart twists painfully, the back of your eyes pinching and hot, and you will not cry right now. His words make you even more angry because if he cares so much about such seemingly small things like this, why can’t he just let everything else fall into place between you as well?

Nancy pops her head through the open door, calling your name, “Need you when you’ve got a second.”

“Be right there, Nance.” You throw her a grateful look.

Turning back to Joel you rub your forehead, trying to press the ache that’s taking root in your brain out with your fingertips. “Nothing… nothing’s wrong. I’m just…” you sigh, suddenly very sad, very tired. You take in his weathered face, his brow pulled down into a scowl anyone who knew him less would take for anger, but you see it for what it is: concern, discomfort, frustration at the tension that’s held constant between the two of you all day. The both of you pulling away and then yanking each other back. You can see he wants to move past this, avoid whatever fight is brewing – too much for him to handle. You know he hates it when you’re angry and annoyed with him, and doesn’t that have to mean something? Please, please it must mean something more. But you’re too tired for this now, your body overwrought from its brief bout of sickness earlier, from your long day. You’d like to go to bed with him and not wake up for a year. Lay on his chest and feel the movement of his breathing rock you to sleep, count the spaces between his ribs, make a home for yourself within them. A great jealousy for his heart, the organ itself, writhes in you, that it gets to live inside him. You’re feeling melancholy and exhausted and overly emotional . Sad that even when he’s the source of your turmoil, your hurt, he’s still the only one you want to go to for comfort. You clear your throat, “I’m fine, Joel. Really.” You try and give him a small smile. “I was in a mood earlier, but I’m okay now.”

“I need us to be okay, Birdie. I– I know…” he looks away, hisses through his teeth in frustration. “I know I don’t always act like it, but–”

You hold up a hand to stop him. You don’t want to, can’t, listen to him try and make excuses. Explain to you things you’ve always understood about what this thing is between the two of you. “We don’t need to do this. I promise everything’s fine. I need to get back.” You step forward to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw, to appease the both of you, but also if only because you can’t help but touch him when he’s near, hands snaking up his belly and chest to fist in the collar of his shirt. He hums low in his throat and grips the back of your neck, other hand low on your back to press you to him, and everything inside you goes liquid hot and wanting, just at the feel of him, the scent of him.

“Try and rest.” He breathes you in at the crown of your head, and you nod against his chest.

“I will. Don’t worry.” But you know he’ll do that anyways, and that alone is a comfort.

Connie meanders in about midnight, nocturnal creature that he is, to check on you all. You’d pulled the armchair from the office into the corner of the infirmary while you read in the corner. An all night vigil wasn’t exactly necessary – Teddy’s fever had broken about an hour ago, his vitals were stable, and Mr. Schwartz had been snoring the night away for hours. Nancy lived on the second floor of the house, and was always near and available if necessary, but you were peaceful here. Tucked away in your corner with your book and a throw draped over your folded knees. The anxiety you’d carried heavy in your belly all day had dissipated. Thoughts of Joel settled now, compared to the frenzied hysterical swarm they’d been all day. Sometimes this need for him scared you. That your mood, your physical self, could so easily be altered by him, by his own mood, his words, his touch. The tether he held you by was so strong, it felt unbreakable, permanent. It scared you to think what would become of you if one day he decided to break it.

Connie passes a hand over the boy’s forehead, murmuring to himself as he examines him, pops his stethoscope in to take a listen. His movements are slow and practiced, methodical. You’d always loved watching him work. You’ve passed so far into the realms of exhaustion, you’re a little delirious now, your mind and vision hazy, and you rest your head against the wingback and watch. “He’s settled now. Vitals are steady.” You hum in agreement.

He turns to look at you then, his gaze contemplative as he takes a seat on the bench along the end of the bed directly in front of you. His tired groan makes you smile a little, old man. The fondness for him squeezes your heart. He has something to say, you can tell. “I know your father was an exacting man,” he starts. You nod, still quiet. You know that now is a time for listening. “I think of him often. I know I never met him, but he wanders into my mind quite frequently. I think of the things you’ve told me about him, about your mother and sister–” When you’d first become close, it’d been hard for you to speak of your family, of Beth and her death, but eventually you’d forced yourself to. For no other reason than that the thought of you being the only person left in the world that remembered their names, that knew their stories, wrought a grief in you so profound, it was impossible to keep it all inside. You were scared if you didn’t share, if you carried all that alone, you’d lose yourself in their memories forever. “I think that after all that, after living their deaths in such a gruesome way, it could have been very easy for you to lose yourself in all that. Do you agree?” Another small tilt of your chin. The precision with which he’d always read you, understood you, was the greatest comfort in the world. That sometimes it wasn’t even necessary to tell him out loud what it was you were feeling or needed for him to pick up on it.

“But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t,” you finally say.

“No…” his eyes take on the thoughtful look he gets, the one that makes you wish you could read his mind sometimes, read the wonderings of that brilliant mind like one of your textbooks. “Instead, you became a splendid and thoughtful physician. A seemingly impossible thing, no? Now, with the state of the world for you to have pieced together a vocation such as this…” his milky blue eyes glint with humor, pride, “Well, it’s all very impressive, my dear.”

“Thank you,” you acknowledge.

“And even more impressive, considering the fact, that had you been given a choice in the matter, you would never have chosen this for yourself… had the world been different, normal.” And there it is again, that keen sense of knowing.

“Yes.” There is nothing more to say. It is, after all, your most painful, most honest, most shameful truth. Painful, not in the sense that you carried any regret now, when you cared for your patients, when you put the knowledge your father and Connie had given you into practice. But painful in the sense that it chafed at your skin, that desire for other . That small seed that had the great potential of growth within you, to spread like ivy around a house, and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze, until all you were left with were thoughts of what could have been.

“But like I said… your father was an exacting man, and this is what he chose for you. And then, perhaps, even I played a part in that same theft of choice from you.” You try to interrupt him then, to vehemently deny it, but he continues unheeded. “You got here and you seemed to be a sort of benediction to me. A vessel for all the knowledge I could impart on you. A shepherd I could leave this flock to.” He slips his glasses off the bridge of his nose and wipes them slowly with the hem of his sweater. “I know you’ll take good care of them when I’m no longer here. That they could not have ended up in better, more caring hands.” You hate when he talks about his dying, fills you with a premonitory dread you don’t know how you’ll cope with when it becomes actuality. “But alas, you did what was set upon you, took it all in stride.” He pauses, as if contemplating what he’s about to say next, and you know the point of all this has arrived. You even know where it is he’s going with this.

“I say all this, my dear, not to dredge up old painful memories, or reminders of what could have been… But because I would not like to see your choices taken from you once again.” And there it is. He levels his gaze at you, quiet for several moments, and it’s like he is here in the room with you now, his presence, his unsaid name heavy and poignant.

“Joel’s a good man, honey, but he’s a hurt man. Hurt in a way I don’t think even you could cure.”

Your instinct to defend him is immediate. “He’s not— he’s not a hurt man.” You shake your head, brow furrowed, “He’s been hurt before, but it doesn’t define him, Connie. It’s not the sole contributor to who he is.” And that’s true, you know it is. Believe it to your very core. You, who knows Joel better than few others, you know the pains of his past don’t define him. Perhaps before, they did. A pain so acute it molded him into a creature focused only on survival, or perhaps, he let it get the better of him at times. But he is so much more than all that. Has the strength and the will to set it aside when he so chooses to. Ellie being the perfect example of that.

Choices, choices, those were the things that defined a person.

“Isn’t it? You can’t live off the potential you see in someone forever.”

“I hate it when you say that.” You sit up, let your feet drop to the floor, and lean forward to stress your point. “What are we all, if not vessels of untapped potential? We’re all just walking around with the possibility of something more inside of us. Of course, of course I value the potential I see in him! I know he has the possibility of so, so much inside of him – that’s what makes me… That’s why I –” You cut yourself off before you can make that confession, a choked sound leaving your throat. You look out the nearby window at the dark street, press your thumb hard into the center of your forehead, will the tension and frustration out of the skin and bone.

“I know… I know,” he says gently, offering you his hands, palms up – a sign of concession. “But it’s not enough to hang all your hopes and dreams on just that. I want more for you than just that . I want you to have choices. To be able to have what you truly want, what you truly need. I would not like to know that something unfulfilling has been forced upon you once again by the circumstances of this world.” And he says it so sadly, with a look of such tenderness in his eyes, it makes embarrassment burn hot and red in your cheeks. The back of your eyes pinch. What must they all think of me when they see us together? The part that perhaps does, or should, make you the most embarrassed, is that you don’t really care at all. Not in any substantial way that would make a real difference, make you act differently. “I’m not unfulfilled, Connie. I love what we do here,” you say softly.

“I know that, I know. But still…I just–”

You rest your aching head in your cupped palms, bent elbows propped on your knees. You’re so fucking tired. “Connie, please, I know…” you whisper. “Just, please, no more tonight… I’m exhausted. You can tell me all this another time – tomorrow. Just no more tonight.”

“Alright, alright, dear. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to give you grief.” He stands, comes towards you to rest a gentle palm on your shoulder.

“I know… and you’re not… It’s me.”

“I only want good things for you, darling girl.” You press your hand over his on your shoulder, give a short nod.

“Go home – you need rest. Nancy will stay with them.”

“I can sit for a few more hours. Teddy likes to know I’m here.”

“No, no,” his voice takes on that stern fatherly tone he likes to whip you into shape with sometimes. “Enough for tonight. They’ll both be fine. You’ll see them tomorrow.”

You scrunch your nose at him, “Bossy.” But you stand to go, draping the blanket over the back of the chair. He pulls you in for a hug then, envelops you in the comfort and steadiness he’s always offered you, from the very start. He always smells faintly of peppermint and mothballs and old paper. “It’ll all work itself out, my dear. You’ll find a way. You always do. I’m not worried about that.”

Joel watches you leave the clinic from his spot in the shadows across the road. He’s been posted here, obstinate and pissed off with himself, for hours. Especially because he’s certain this must be a new low for him, sulking in the dark, watching for you like a creep. But he just wanted to be close to you. He knows you lied to put him off earlier. Your conversation had left him unsatisfied, restless. He knows you’re pulling away because he’s pulling away. Because he’s putting you off, and he tells himself he’ll give you space, tells himself that’s what’s best, but knows it’s a lie as he thinks it.

The thing is, despite his obstinance, Joel was not a man who lacked self awareness. He was, in fact, very good at recognizing a thing within himself, and yet still able to make a conscious decision to feign ignorance towards it to the outside world. This set up worked well for him – sometimes … on occasion… But this was different, and he knew it. Feigning ignorance would not work between the two of you for much longer. You were getting tired and sad and frustrated with him and he could see it and hated himself for being the cause of it. And if he was being honest with himself, which in this moment, he was trying to be, he was getting tired of it too, tired of himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in this position with a woman. On the verge of … something. Something he couldn’t confess, even to himself, yet. But to allow himself that, to allow himself the simple act of even admitting what he knew was the truth of his feelings for you – there was a part of him, a very broken part that had not been used in a long, long time, that couldn’t even imagine it. To allow himself that sort of vulnerability. To allow himself the truth of there existing another person in this world, in what this world had become, a partner – a woman he cared for, needed . It was too vulnerable, too precious a thing to allow himself. Perhaps before, perhaps in a world not overrun by death and disease and violence – by loss.

But what did that even look like anymore? A world bereft of monstrousness? Wiped clean of the beasts that had overtaken it, human or infected. Could Joel even remember such a thing – even imagine it, if only in his dreams? He couldn’t even discern which of the two was worse anymore. Part of him knew it didn’t really matter. Not in the end. It was all conjecture when it came down to losing your life – losing the person you loved. Whether it was fungus or a bullet – dead was dead.

Sometimes he didn't even feel like a person anymore. Just this thing that existed at the periphery of the world. In the moments when he pushed you away, when he turned from the loving look in your face, forced himself to brush off your words and your affection, to hold you at arms length – to protect the vulnerable, scarred mass of his heart – those were the moments in which he was most like a creature, least like a man.

He thought of a world where he felt safe enough to go to the woman he loved, his Birdie, hold you in his arms and say: here is everything I have for you, I’m begging you, please take it .

Such a world didn’t exist in Joel’s mind. Couldn’t fit. He’d been stripped of the ability. To have something so vulnerable and new. A type of fragile he’d not held since his twelve year old daughter lay bleeding and broken in his arms, and have the ability to say I am strong enough to endure the possible loss of this. I need you this badly. So badly I am willing to risk even my own heart.

It looked like trying to swallow the sea.

He follows you home in the darkness.

“You get that fixed alright?” Joel’s voice barks from the mouth of the garage. You startle, your knee slamming into the underside of the workbench. Deciding to follow through on Connie’s suggestion from yesterday, you’d come to see Noah, knocking on his door bright and early this morning, Bovie clutched in your hands. He’d been more than happy to give it a look for you. The two of you had been sitting here for about an hour now, and in that time you’d seen Joel’s form stalk by at least three times, from out of the corner of your eye. Absurd man that he was, you knew he’d been psyching himself up to barge in here and interrupt the two of you. Seemed he’d brought his attitude with him.

“Jesus, man–” Noah’s hand grips your smarting knee, rubbing it gently, “We didn’t hear you come up.” Joel’s left eye twitches at the we, his gaze zeroed in on the hand on your knee, his teeth bared in the perpetuation of a ridiculous growl as he takes a threatening step forward. You lift your brows at him – all your fire and fight from yesterday put to rest now after some much needed sleep. He cocks his brow back at you, shifts his jaw side to side in annoyance.

“Absorbed in your work?” he drawls sardonically.

“We’ve made some good progress actually! Come see,” Noah says, completely missing Joel’s mocking tone, the poor thing. He gives your knee another gentle pat, and you think you might just see steam come out of Joel’s ears. He steps up behind you, chest pressed close to your back and passes a hand over your hair, presses a kiss to the crown of your head. This fucking guy. Now he feels like getting handsy. You scrunch your nose at him, turning back to face Noah and the Bovie, your shoulder pressing into Joel’s belly. Noah takes in your positions, the possessive hand now curled around your neck – looks back down at the knee he’d just grabbed and then back to Joel’s broad intimidating form and scowling face. You see a slow swallow move through his throat. As he starts to explain the changes the two of you had made to the electrocautery generator, you consider the differences between the two of them. The contrast is stark. Noah isn’t small by any means, average height, a nice build – but there’s something about Joel. Some sort of warning in the air around him, in the space he takes up in a room, that makes him larger than life – something that says don’t fuck with me or mine. Heat pools low in your belly and you press your thighs together tightly. Fucked up, you’re fucked up – you try to brush his hand off your neck – suddenly feeling overwhelmed, your skin overly sensitized. “Quit –” he says low in your ear and you almost whimper. He’s jealous, and it’s turning you on. There’s definitely something wrong with you.

You try to shake him off again,“ Let go.”

“No.” His voice is steel. Noah is heedlessly going on about the Bovie, about how it only took a slight rewiring from the generator into the hand-piece without overwhelming the system; giving it the little bump of power it was missing. Joel’s thumb brushes a slow, warning path up and down your neck. Down, down, to the top notch of your vertebrae, slowly kneading the fine muscles surrounding the prominence of your bone and then up and pushing into the base of your skull. His hands are warm and dry – the rough calluses abrading your sensitive skin. You feel the flush in your cheeks traveling down over your chest, the tips of your breasts tightening to painful points. You see Joel’s eyes flicker down, taking you in, and he gives a contemplative hum low in his throat.

“I’m so glad you let me help,” Noah says with a warm smile. He’s sweet and so genuine and as you take him in, how completely unaware he is of the silent struggle going on between you and Joel right in front of him, you’re struck by how easy loving a man like that would be. And how unfulfilling for a woman like you. What is it about some people, that they can’t appreciate a good thing unless it hurts a little?

“Connie and I are real grateful that you could help. You let us know if there’s anything we can do for you.” Joel gives him a short nod as you leave.

And then, soft and threatening into the shell of your ear as the two of you walk away from the nice, sweet, uncomplicated boy: we’re goin’ home, and I’m gonna lick that cunt until you’re cryin’, little bird.

Your steps speed up, trying to outrun the clutch of his hands on your skin, trying to escape – even if just a little.

You never stood a chance of that.

He follows, menacingly on your heels, as you dart into your house. A rabbit trying to outrun the big bad wolf. You make for the stairs and you feel the tips of his fingers ghost lightly in the ends of your long hair, one foot on the first step, but then his finger is catching in your belt loop, yanking you hard into his chest. Your back thumps against him with a small oof and then his hands are skating along your curves, big palms squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples through the cotton of your t-shirt..

“Bad Birdie, try’na run from me.” He nuzzles, gentle, gentle into the nape of your neck, the line of your hair, presses his mouth to the top notch of your spine. You feel his hot, wet tongue slide over the jut of your vertebrae, small peppered kisses to your nape and your entire body flushes hot – arousal pulling low and tight in your belly. Your clit throbs in time with his panting breath in your ear. His soft mouth is totally at odds with the tension he’s holding himself with right now, the harsh way he presses his fingers into the skin of your hips.

You can feel the thick length of him pressing into your ass; he’s hard as stone and throbbing – turned on by the chase. You moan, deep and wanton, slick pooling in your panties, ready for him now , just at the feel of his hands on you. “You want it, baby?”

“Y– yes,” you stutter, pressing yourself harder into him.

“Want me to fuck that needy little cunt?”

His voice is so deep you feel it vibrate through his chest and into your back, down, down your body all the way to the tips of your toes. “Please, Joel,” you whimper. You try to turn in his arms, but he clicks his tongue at you, wrapping his arms more tightly around your waist, half dragging, half carrying you up the stairs to your bedroom.

“I always give my Birdie what she needs, don’t I?”

“Settle now. Stay still so I can eat you how I like.” He hitches his hands higher up the backs of your thighs, beneath your knees – spreads you further apart, up and back to press into your breasts, making more space for the broad valley of his naked shoulders. He’d gotten you naked and into bed, quick as a viper. His desperation, evident in the wild look in his eyes. He was unsettled, either by the tension between the two of you yesterday or you around another man, but he was trying to prove some unspoken point to the two of you in the ferocity of his grip on your skin.

He settles his face deep into your sex now and eats. “Who’s all this wet for, huh? Were you thinkin’ about me while that boy tried to get in your good graces?”

“It’s too much. Please, please, please,” you sob. Tears making a slow, steady journey back into your hairline, dripping into your ears. You yank hard on his hair, try to direct his movements. You can’t tell if you’re trying to push him away or pull him closer.

“Want me to stop?” He laps at your clit.

“I– I dont– I don’t know–” It felt like he’d been at this for hours. “I–”

“It’s okay.” Soft, whispered kisses to the puffy lips of your sex, your slippery inner thighs. You’re so wet, and you’d have burns from his beard and bruises from his teeth tomorrow. “I know, I know you’re just a little bird,” his teeth sharp and mean to the softest part of you, then the broad flat of his tongue to soothe – a sharp, quick suck to your swollen clit. His volley between rough and tender on your vulnerable sex setting you further on edge than anything else he was doing. “But you can take it for me.You can be so, so good for me. My good girl.”

Your cunt pulls tight – throbs like a wound. Hurts in a way you’re desperate for. You love him, you love him, you love him. Goddamn the things he does to you, makes you feel. You need him so much and he gives it all to you exactly in the way that’s the most perfect, just for you. You feel fucking delirious, on the brink of insanity.

He pushes two thick fingers into you, cunt spasming and clinging. He scissors the digits inside of you, stretches your hole. The squelch is lewd and obscene and messy. You can feel your cheeks burning red and hot, and you throw an arm over your eyes as you feel your slick leak down between your ass to pool on the sheets beneath you – hiding yourself from your own obscenity.

“Pussy s’fuckin’ good, baby. Tastes like candy.” He pulls out his fingers, slaps your cunt, twice, quick and sharp. The sound you let out shames you, high pitched and whining. “Fuckin’ red ‘nd gaping for me. God, Birdie –” he moans so deep it makes your heart race, brings his mouth back to you – licks a broad stripe from hole to clit with the flat of his tongue. His mouth latches to the aching swollen bud and sucks. “You need me so much dont you? Fuckin’ come in my mouth – wanna taste it.” And he’s right, he’s right, you do, you need him so much. In that instant, you feel so grateful that he knows it.

Your back arches, everything liquid within you pooling low in your pelvis, pulling tight, and it feels like the world is about to end around you; a catastrophe even greater than anything the cordyceps could have ever wrought. This is what he brings out of you with his mouth and his fingers and his words, and you gush onto his face. He almost fucking whines at the splash of your orgasm on his tongue – slurping down everything you have to give him, you feel your wetness cover his face and beard. This is what you give to each other.

He gentles his fingers and tongue. Letting your orgasm coast along into echoes and throbs. You try to push him away with your foot on the thick mass of his shoulder, on the brink of overstimulation, but quick as a viper, he circles his entire large palm around the fine bones of your ankle and squeezes. Quit – presses a tiny kiss to the protrusion of your bone there.

“ Mine,” he growls. “Mine, no one touches you but me–” His hands open you wider for him, fileting you for his eyes only. You feel hot and flush, your skin tight, to the point of bursting, like an overripe plum in the sun. Skin fragile and thin, insides viscous, ready to spill your flesh for him, blood burning hot as it churns in your veins. “Not fuckin’ done yet, Birdie. Not done with this perfect pussy.” Tears make a slow path down your temples, your fingers tangled in his hair, wanting to hurt– just a little. Like the delicious hurt of holding him within yourself. The way it feels like an old aching bruise inside of you when he stuffs you full of his cock. And then he’s up, up, up – quick as a whip – his fingers shoving into the tangle of your hair at the nape of your neck, captured in a tight fist like prey in a snare, and he’s shoving your own taste deep into you with his tongue. The kiss, open and savage – he’s fucking your mouth like he was just fucking your pussy. Your heart pushes against the bones of your chest, and you desperately clutch at his shoulders for some sort of countenance. He unmoors you . You have been unmoored by this man. And you want – need – more.

He kneels between your open legs, thick thighs anchoring you wider and fists his cock, the head gleaming and painfully red. He pulls your thighs over his own thicker ones, and presses the fat tip hard to your sensitive clit, making you jolt and whimper pathetically. “Cock drunk, that’s what you are.” All you can do is nod dumbly, eyes glassy and wet. His voice is so deep. He drags the head down to your entrance, presses just a little, only the fat tip held inside you. He fucks you short and shallow like that, his hips moving in tiny, slow jerks.

“Please,” you sigh, your eyes fluttering shut at the subtle pressure, at the promise of what’s about to come, “Please, Joel.”

“Please what? Please what?” he mocks, just a little mean, and then he’s surging inside in one brutal thrust. Fucking into you without warning and he’s huge — almost too much to take, even after your orgasms. “Fucking tight,” he grits out. He hoists you up, arms wrapped around your waist and starts fucking up and into you, hard. Not giving you a moment to adjust. Letting go of the restraint he’d held while he ate you out. Cock battering into something deep and sensitive inside you, all you can do is take it. Let him have you as he pleases.

He can feel your slick pooling at the base of his cock and sliding down his balls. He wraps his hand around the fine bones of your jaw, “Who’s pussy is this?” he growls over the wet slap, “Wanna hear it out loud.”

Yours, yours, yours.

Your face is flushed and sweaty, cheeks red as an apple, eyes glazed, dark, wet lashes clumped together. The fucked out look in your eyes doing more for him than anything else. This is what he does to you, only him . He picks up the pace of his hips, fucks you harder, harder and your tits bounce against his chest. He slaps one of them gently, appreciating the soft jiggle it gives, the small gasp you let out. His other hand snakes low on your tummy and presses down into your pelvis so he can feel the battering of his cock inside of your cunt and shit he’s gonna come soon. Gonna come with his hand feeling himself fuck you from the outside. “Too much, too much, Joel ,” you whine. “Oh god, I– I’m gonna–” You’re soaked, sweat and slick sliding between your two bodies, and clutching him hot and tight as a fist. He can’t get deep enough, can’t give it to you hard enough. He never wants to stop, will never be able to stop.

“You’re taking my cock so good, so fucking good. Jesus fuck, I can’t, I can’t–” He slates his mouth over your open panting one, licks into the sweet, red gleam of you. Your arms wrap around his neck, and he drags his teeth along your full bottom lip, lets it go with a little wet pop. You moan, head falling back on your neck, beyond words. He bends his head, hand wrapped around the fullness of your tit to bring it to his mouth, bites gently down on the tight, aching bud, laves his tongue around it and sucks it into his mouth. Then he’s pushing you back, letting you fall and bounce onto the mattress, legs splayed. When he pulls out abruptly you whimper – he can’t let himself come yet, not yet, just a little more – and he leaves a hot trail of open mouth kisses down your neck, over your shoulder, sucking the peak of your breast into his mouth again, over the swell of your belly, until he’s between your thighs again and bends his head to devour your slick. His tongue licking deep inside where his cock just was. He’s frantic. There’s no reason to the sense of urgency he feels, the urgency he’s taking you with right now. It’s something subconscious – something primal telling him to mark you, lay his claim.

He can’t stop taking and taking, always taking.

He pulls up again from between your legs, the abruptness of his movements confusing you, leaving you to deliriously allow him to do with you what he will. “Taste us,” he says as he licks into your mouth, fucking his aching cock back into your spent cunt, so fucking tight always. “One more, baby. Gimme one more, lemme feel you milk me.” And like his own personal little marionette on a string, you do. Pussy fluttering and then pulling tight, a little furl of a knot, squeezing his own orgasm out of him. He feels his balls pull up tight and he’s painting you inside, teeth latched tightly to the delicate muscle that connects your neck and shoulder. The sound from your throat is high and keening, supplicant. He licks the hurt he’s just left. Grinds his spitting cock deep, right into the mouth of your womb.

Mine, mine, fucking mine. It is a mantra of reassurance for the both of you.

He cradles you in his embrace afterwards, his body wrapped around you as if he were a vine grown from your very heart. He sighs, the sound deep from his chest, and you want to tell yourself you can hear a yearning desperate enough to match your own in the cadence of it. His head drops to your shoulder, nuzzles the vulnerable space beneath your jaw, now riddled with his bites and bruises. You know you’ll enjoy inspecting them in the mirror tomorrow, feeling the warm pull of your belly at the reminder. And the moment is so achingly tender, even more intimate in a way, than your sex. The feel of him surrounding you, soft and quiet. Your eyes feel hot, pinching threateningly.

“I have to go,” he murmurs, spent cock still buried inside of you. He presses kisses to your hair, your lips, over your closed eyelids. He can’t stop, God, he’s tried – is trying – but he can’t go, can’t part from you. Fighting is so fucking hard when you’ve got no will behind it. When what you’re trying to fight against is the thing you’ve wanted more than anything else in your whole life, and the only thing standing in your way is yourself, your own inadequacy. Perhaps he could endure the agony, the filth of life, the loss, the loss, the loss, with you held in his arms like this.

His patrol shift started almost an hour ago. The guys were going to ream the hell out of him, he’d been here with you for hours, and still, still he couldn’t stop, couldn’t pull himself away. His lack of will, lack of restraint, of self control – his body and heart’s inability to do what his mind told him to, makes him so angry. At himself, and maybe – not at you, never you – but perhaps, at what you represented. All he wanted but couldn’t let himself have in full. He needed to go. He had responsibilities. He had truths to confess to himself.

He was in love with you. He was. He was.

Joel was an obstinate man, but he did not lack self awareness. Now was the moment for this truth, if only confessed to himself. So, angry, and in love with you, and tremendously sorry, he turns away. Pulls out of your tight wet clutch with a wince, your breathy gasp making his cock twitch slightly, even so soon after he’s just come. You roll over, burrow into the pillows, and he grips the swell of your ass, pulls you apart to feast on the sight of his come leaking out of you. Obscene. Wet and messy and swollen, marked by his spend. He wants to bend for a taste but knows if he does, he won’t stop, will be likely to start all over again. “I gotta go, Birdie. M’already late.” He bends to nip a gentle bite to your ass cheek, one small last taste, then the press of a kiss. He hopes you can feel all he cannot say with that touch. The soft sound of acquiescence you hum as you burrow further into the sheets has his teeth clenching as he reaches for his clothes, heart turning over in his chest. He’s sure every sound out of you has a direct connection to his cock at this point.

He won’t shower, won’t wash your drying come from his body. He’ll take you with him, wear you on his skin. Anyways, what did it matter, really, when he already wore you on his heart, his soul? What was one more conquering of his self? Perhaps this was, ultimately, what swallowing the sea looked like.

Chapter III

Netherfeildren Masterlist

#joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fic #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #FOG fic

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specialagentlokitty · 6 months

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Thomas Barrow x sister!Reader - protect you

Could you maybe write a Thomas Barrow x sister!reader where she lip reads because she's deaf or hard of hearing and Thomas just has her back every step of the way despite what people say? It's okay if not. Thank you🤍 - Anon💜

Sitting at the table, you were reading from your book, immersed in your own little world only to be pulled out of it when you felt a tap of your shoulder.

Looking yup, you smiled at your brother as he sat down.

“Have you had breakfast?” He asked.

You gave a small nod of your head, and he rose a brow at you.

He took a plate from in front of him and passed it over to you.

“Don’t lie to me (Y/N), I never saw you down here.”

You gave him an apologetic looked, and he gestured to the plate, taking the book away from you so you would focus on eating instead.

While you were doing that, he went to reading his paper.

When Mrs Hughes walked in he kicked your foot and you looked up before standing up, giving her a smile.

“Good morning (Y/N). How are you today?”

You gave her a bright smile and she smiled back.

“Doing well today I see, wonderful. I will need you to do a few small repairs on her ladyship’s dress after you have eaten if you have time.”

You nodded and Mrs Hughes smiled, leaving the room.

Sitting back down, you turned to Thomas who looked at you.

“You’re welcome.”

With that you carried on teaching before going about your daily tasks and the jobs that needed done as soon as you could.

You tried your best between working and focusing on your surroundings so you knew people were there, but sometimes it was hard.

While most of the staff knew about your condition, some of them didn’t, so when it came to more servants coming for a huge event, they were oblivious to the fact you needed to be tapped on the shoulder if they wanted something.

So when Mr Bates was walking past the boot room and he saw people crowded around the door he stopped.

“Is there something interesting in there?” He asked.

“There’s a girl in there and she has yet to notice we’re here, so we are playing a game.”

The small group parted to show him who was in there and he stared in shock.

You had small bits of paper thrown around you, and they were clanging some shoes together behind your back while laughing.

“You know, I don’t believe it wise to be messing around with her like this.”

“It’s fine, we so have no idea who’s servant she is, nobody will admit to her being part of their staff.”

“I see.”

Mr Bates did debate on getting involved, but instead he walked away, and he went in search of somebody else to deal with the situation.

And soon enough he found who was looking for.

“Mr Barrow.”

Thomas looked up and sighed heavily.

“What?”

“You may want to come handle the servants who are currently using your sister as a game for their entertainment.”

Thomas immediately dropped what he was doing and stood up.

“Where?”

“Boot room.”

Thomas sprinted in that direction, and Mr Bates followed with Anna, Mrs Hughes a few others behind him.

They could hear the shouting before they even reached the hallway, and they turned around to see a young man crying as he held his nose while some others cowered in fear.

Jimmy was standing by a door, blocking them from running into the kitchen, keeping Mrs Patmore and Daisy out of the way.

“You think it’s funny to be picking on a young woman?!” Thomas yelled.

They stayed quiet.

“If I ever see you talking, or so much as looking at my sister again I will do so much worse than break your nose.” He growled.

“Mr Bates, please take the injured boy to see Mr Carson and tell him what has happened, the rest of you sit down, we will be telling the head butler and head housemaids for your respective employers about this, as well as his lord ship.”

The rest of the Downton servants helped ensure that the culprits were kept in one room and kept quiet, and Thomas turned to you.

He took some small paper balls out your hair, and placed his hand on your head.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

You nodded.

“We will have them all dealt with.”

You nodded again, and he sighed.

He could tell you were upset, he could see it on your face as he held out his arms.

Getting up, you tightly hugged him, and he hugged you back.

He was furious, but he knew you needed him to be with you, so he set aside his anger to be there to support you.

This was the exact reason he had gotten you a job with him, so he could keep you safe, and he was furious anybody would this it okay to use you for their own entertainment.

Yes, you may be different, but you were still human after all.

You were his little sister, and he would be dammed if he ever let anybody get away with treating you with anything but respect.

He didn’t care who it was, high status or not.

Nobody was going to treat you like that and he would be sure of it

#Downton abbey #Downton abbey x reader #Downton abbey imagine #Downton abbey x you #Thomas Barrow #Thomas Barrow x reader #Thomas Barrow x you #Thomas Barrow imagine

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withering-sunflower-dust · 5 months

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A bit more conversation/interviews from the esmp actor cast!

Question; what are their favorite blooper scenes?

Celestia/Gem's actor;

Celestia; we have bloopers all the time, I'd say a lot of the bloopers are so funny especially since the scenes are supposed to be serious

Interviewer; can we hear one of these bloopers perhaps?

Celestia; of course you can! Okay so like we were filming the Gem and Sausage fight where she was supposed to break sausage out possession, we have to do like five different take for that because Sammy{sausage's actor} kept laughing and swearing and also kept tripping off the edge!

Interviewer; I am ready hear how many times Sammy caused the cast to have to retake a scene today!

Celestia; totally should cuz there's going to be so many!

Cris/Fwhip's actor

Cris; oh that's a hard one cuz I have so many bloopers in mind for like a favourite, but personally I think one of my favorite ones are just like Carson laughing while he was in a scene with ash (Xornoth's/Bratwurst's actor) like they could not look into each other's eyes and play it seriously we'd have to like redo that scene at least 10 or so times until they properly do it cuz every time they look at each other they just straight up start laughing out loud like not even laugh they would fall to their knees laughing and crying on the floor those two are brother-in-law's and I have respect for that but that also means we have to redo the scene like 15 times unusual basis when those two have a scene together

Interviewer; that is an absolute nightmare to live through having to redo 15 takes

Cris; it is, it takes so long o film the cuz those two would lay on the ground and laugh for a solid 20 minutes

Sammy/Sausage's actor

Sammy; uuhh, honestly I'd say season 2 when Shelby and supreme meet and they have this elaborate plan to trap Joey but my favorite bloopers were when they were flying in

Interviewer; now why is that?

Sammy; every time we would start the flying scene they would straight up get tangled even after we untangled them when they started to take they got tangled again somehow, so like we had to retake that one 10 second flying motion for like I think it was like 7 or 8 times we had to retake it

Interviewer; unless they did it on purpose they were spitting around in the air

Sammy; that's probably what they did

Ash/Bratwurst's/Xornoth's actor

Ash; there are a load of funny ones, if you're talking personal favorites, then it was when we were setting up ice for Carson's Elsa arc and when he got on the ice he literally slipped face first

Interviewer; he didn't know how to skate?!

Ash; Ironic right?

Dianna/Pearl's actor;

Dianna; Favourite blooper was when we were trying to film an angel sausage scene and things didn't go quite to plan, needless to say we almost put set on fire

Interviewer; well now how that happened!?

Dianna; we were messing with the lights

Carson/Scott's actor;

Carson; this isn't a blooper scene but I think Id count it as one, we were doing like a technical fighting scene and then someone bumped into Cris and accidentally fell hit ash and then they kissed on the floor, like watching that back over and over is so funny the two of them were completely stunned by it were you curious ones out there it was nether fight scene

Interviewer; wither husband was trending ship for a while, maybe that's why!

Shelly/Shubble's actor

Shelly; My favourite blooper of all time is most likely Like the wedding scene where Xornoth was like hiding from the crowd like ash kept falling and losing balance at the ledge he was trying to so hard to balance he swore when he finally did it he swore while filming and we had to retake it again!

Interviewer; now that, was an epic fail!

Kathliana/Katharine'sactor

Kath; it's a very specific one, you know how season 1 Scott has messenger owl? Yea while we were filming the owl moved and Carson jumped and screamed, he thought those were remote controlled so like he didn't expect it to move to him

Interviewer; they were real?

Kath; yea, one of the writers had trained owls as a pet and brought them in for plot no one knew expect for Sammy cuz he was part of the writers crew for a bit

Sebastian/Joey's actor

Seb; This is really unclosed info don't tell anyone I said this, but my favorite blooper was when Sean was trying to set up the candles then then rolled on one making him fall in the fountain

Interviewer; I am sworn to secrecy!

Sean/pixl's actor

Sean; probably when cole was pulled into the ponds by actual cods, that wasn't a joke we had like couple hundred cod's on set

Interviewer; now that would be a feast!

Cole/Jimmy's actor

Cole; this isn't a blooper it's more a behind the scenes, but I love how like every Sunday Sammy would bring soda and empanadas, they were homemade and f______ delicious!

Interviewer; woah now! You can't say that word were on live television!

Louise/Lizzie's actor

Louise; I'd say Dianna screaming on the tops of the lungs when she saw ash, she had no idea Sammy had a twin

Interviewer; You have the most straightforward answer of everyone

Louise; and yet I'm still not straight

Joey/Joel's actor

Joey; personal favorite was when anyone trips and fall over the corrupted vines

Interviewer; I'm guessing that happens a lot?

Joey; more than you may think

Sahara/False's actor

Sahara; everytime cris would fall while he was crouch walking Trying to reach his hight requirements

Interviewer; so he was actually crouching?

Sahara; Yea and it was hilarious seeing him struggle with it

Liam/Oli's actor

Liam; I have a particular one in mind, It was when the Lammas wouldn't stop spitting on Owen while filming, they hated him for some reason

Interviewer; I guess they just hate the special guests!

Liam; soo true

_________

If there's anything you wanna ask abt the actor au shoot me an ask! And if you have questions for the cast then also shoot me an ask!

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lab-trash · 5 months

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So, uh, I was reading my Milton x Jack google doc, and I came across this. And I'm pretty sure I haven't posted it. So here ya go. And it's a long one, so strap in.

SHIP QUESTIONS

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

How did they first meet? - Jack kicked ass on Milton’s behalf

What was their first impression of each other? - Jack thought Milton was sort of dorky-seeming. That he would like to be strong, but never had really the real opportunity to do it with his skinny little bones and muscles. - Milton obviously was extremely impressed with Jack, no surprise there. We see it. We know it.

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together? - I think that Mika would see it like… so quick. She would pretend she thought they were already dating just to nudge them along.

Who felt romantic feelings first? - Jack. I am 100% on the side that Jack was a complete mess about his feelings for Milton while Milton had no clue that either of them were queer • Jack had a big ol’ gay crisis, fite me

Did either of them try to resist their feelings? - Absolutely, both of them. Like, we see it in the show; Jack has the most internalised homophobia a man has ever had. Like, he looks so uncomfortable when he’s with Kim, but like he’s obligated to, y’know?

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think? - Telling Jack: He’d deny it, he would flat-out deny it. - Telling Milton: I feel like he’d get really confused and flustered about it.

What would their lives be like if they had never met? - As we see in the show, it is not pretty. But I also chose to believe that it would actually not at all be like that. - I mean, come on, even if Jack didn’t join Wasabi, I don’t think he’d turn into a black dragon. He literally hates his cousin’s morals so much, and he’s a black dragon. I know that Kai became a black dragon only halfway through the show so if Jack hadn’t become a Wasabi then maybe Kai wouldn’t become a black dragon, but they still have the same morals. - I think it’d be a lot more like Kickin’ It On Our Own. - Jack would become committed to skating, a skatepark would’ve really been built at Jack’s petition and Kim would’ve never found the vole bc they weren’t friends. - Milton wouldn’t have dropped out of school and become whatever tf he was in the wonderful life episode, he would’ve switched to Swathmore. • Note to self, write a version of the Swathmore AU where they don’t meet until Milton goes to Swathmore.

GENERAL

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go? - Milton. I feel like there are multiple points where it could happen, but Milton is always the one to start it. Here are some of my favourite points for their relationship to start.

Wrath of Swan. Milton comes back after dropping off Carrie and they dance and they’re gay.

My Left Foot. Milton feels all sort of warm that Jack is encouraging him to quit football if it makes him happy and Milton kisses him before going out onto the field. They don’t talk about it until the after-party

Milton claims that kiss is the only reason he made that goal

New Jack City. This is the one with Carson (BooBoo Stewart) if you don’t remember. After the fight, Milton approaches Jack saying that he feels guilty and that he couldn’t believe that he didn’t trust Jack before considering his feelings. This one is more of an accidental reveal

You may also remember that as the episode where Milton slapped Jack’s ass. That has nothing to do with the episode choice, I just felt like mentioning it. I don’t think they’re into that stuff, but I do think it made them both feel awkward in a flustered way.

Kickin’ It On Our Own. Milton admits that he didn’t really like continuing his life without Jack in it.

Meet the McKrupnicks. I don’t even know exactly how it would happen, I just like the idea of it.

Two Dates and a Funeral. Milton takes Jack’s hand on Mount Seaford and it snowballs from there.

Mama Mima. Milton apologises for causing all sorts of drama during the news thingy.

School of Jack. After the show, instead of hugging, Milton and Jack kiss.

The Return of Spyfall/The Boys are Back in Town. Grey is really observant about Milton and Jack’s feelings about each other and peer pressures Milton to ask him out. It works.

RV There Yet? Milton yells a love confession off the cliff before he knows Jack is alive.

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like? - Yes, but I feel like it’d be often interrupted by Rudy, Jerry, Phil, Joan, etc.

What was their first kiss like? - Oh boy, was it awkward. Their redo was better, and they consider that their first.

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)? - I’d like to think they were each other’s first boyfriends. Not their first relationship, but first boyfriends specifically.

What’s their height difference? Age difference? - I don’t think they have much of a difference between those things. Like, they have a size difference, since Jack has more mass, while Milton is kind of just a stick man.

What’s their relationship with each other’s families? - Jack’s mom is definitely happy that Milton is Jack’s partner, she likes him very much. Milton gave her his tamale recipe and she made a spicier version for her and Jack (it’s cannon Jack eats spicy food without even flinching lmao) - It is my personal belief that Jack doesn’t really see his dad, so I’m skipping past his dad’s opinion on Jack - Milton’s dad is trying his best to be an ally, so he is automatically supportive of their relationship albeit a bit awkward. He does like that Jack protects Milton though. - Milton’s mother is… Well, she either doesn’t know their dating and approves of their friendship, or she knows their dating and doesn’t bc she’s homophobic imo. - Jilian likes Jack. She definitely likes messing with him in regards to Milton, who we’ve seen she’s very protective of, but she does like Jack. Jack is mildly afraid of her, for good reason. - The McKrupnicks all like Jack, it’s very much one of those like… when he enters the room, they’re like “Jack!🍻”

Who takes the lead in social situations? - Jack. Well, most of the time. If it’s regarding their relationship, then it’s Milton, as he’s much more comfortable with his sexuality than Jack is.

Who gets jealous easier? - I think it’s about the same. But it’s different kinds of jealousy. Jack gets like… jealous in a sad possessive way, while Milton gets jealous in an anxious way. Does that make sense? - Like, we see him get jealous of Carson and his friendship with the Wasabi Warriors, and he doesn’t really get possessive in an angry ‘mine, only mine,’ way, he gets jealous in a ‘but… mine… ;(‘ way. Milton is afraid Jack will leave him, and I’m counting that as jealousy.

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear? - I think that neither, for the most part. Jack is way too flustered to do that, in public or not, and Milton is afraid of getting caught. But sometimes he isn’t. And it is a mess for Jack.

LOVE

Who said “I love you” first? - Jack, but mostly because Milton didn’t want to push Jack to say anything.

What are their primary love languages? - I think they’re both cuddly bitches, but Jack also likes giving gifts and casual praise.

Who uses cheesy pick-up lines? - Both, but like… as a joke. They tell each other pick-up lines for fun and laugh at them.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA? - They cuddle as often as they can, even during the beginning of their relationship, though it’s usually private. - During the beginning of their relationship, they absolutely do not engage in PDA because Jack feels bashful at even the idea of that, but once they get into the later months of their relationship, you’ll pretty much not see them not touching each other. • Jerry complains about it a lot; calls them clingy.

Who initiates kisses? - Milton at first, then Jack, then both. Most often, rather.

Who’s the big and little spoon? - They trade because they both have weird relationships with their masculinity.

What are their favourite things to do together? - Karate, obviously. But they also enjoy bowling. And sometimes Jack will play guitar and Milton will sing. - Jack also makes sure to be in every Swords and Magic game once they start dating.

Who’s better at comforting the other? - I think Milton for Jack, but that’s mostly because when Jack has lows, they’re really fucking low, meanwhile Milton is used to the hills and valleys and doesn’t really need to be comforted because he’s already got coping mechanisms.

Who’s more protective? - Jack 1000%. Like, do I even have to explain?

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection? - Milton prefers physical. Jack prefers receiving physical, but likes praising Milton any chance he gets— especially when/since people push him around.

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise? - I don’t know, I haven’t thought of it. But Jack’s favourite song ever is Nowhere to Go because Milton sings it.

What kind of nicknames do they call each other? - Milton has a habit of just varying Jack’s name. So like Jack-Jack, Jackie, Jackson, Jack Attack, etc. - Jack calls Milton regular pet names + kitten. • No one else is allowed to call Milton those things.

Who remembers the little things? - Jack, he likes remembering little details about Milton’s life and hobbies.

DOMESTIC LIFE

If they get married, who proposes? - I feel like it’s just sort of something that’s brought up casually. Milton would bring it up, but they’d decide on it together.

What’s the wedding like? Who attends? - Milton plans their wedding, obviously. It’s awesome. Jack nearly cries during their vows. - The Wasabi Warriors (and the honoraries), Izzy Gunnar, and some of their family.

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like? - I think they’d foster kids, and consider Sam like… their nephew.

Do they have any pets? - I love the idea of them having a rabbit.

Who’s the stricter parent? - Milton.

Who worries the most? - Jack

Who kills the bugs in the house? - Whoever doesn’t spot it. The person who spots it is in a stunned state, so the other has to swoop in.

How do they celebrate holidays? - They usually like to just spend time together, since they’d both be off work. For things like birthdays and christmas, I think they’d have both a private celebration and one with the Wasabis.

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning? - Hmmm… Okay, I think that they’d be the sort of couple who both get up and be productive pretty quickly. But on days when they’re supposed to be productive and he just doesn’t feel like it, I feel like Jack would ask Milton back to bed, and on days they have off from work, Milton would ask Jack back to bed.

Who’s the better cook? - Every urge to say Milton, but that one episode where he bakes that cake has me torn, but I have to remember Invasion of the Ghost Pirates. So Milton can cook, but Jack has a weird secret talent for baking. He doesn’t like doing it, but if Milton asks real sweet-like, he will.

Who likes to dance? - I have not watched the show in a hot minute, ngl. So I’m gonna say that I can be totally wrong on this, but I feel like they both do, in the comfort of privacy. But I like the idea of them sort of just swaying together while Milton is cooking, or when they’re tired.

#kickin it #mack #jack x milton #jack brewer #milton krupnick #milton krupnick x jack brewer #jack brewer x milton krupnick #i nearly posted this to my musical theatre blog #that would've killed me i think #disney #disney plus #disney show

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dindjarinandlysakane · 8 months

Text

The Sweetest Taste | Chapter 52 - My kar’ta

When Din Djarin meets a beautiful cake seller from Nevarro, do you think he’s just going to stand back and let her suffer at the hands of her abusive boyfriend? After a lifetime of heartache and pain, Lysa Kane realises she’s not on her own any more and finds an unlikely friend in the Mandalorian. And Din Djarin does not like men who treat women like that, not one tiny bit. Friendship/comfort and maybe something more…

Masterlist

Chapter 52 - My kar'ta

------

**This chapter contains brief NSFW content. 18+ only**

The night sky over the cool Nevarro desert was inky black, with every single star visible, twinkling overhead.

It was a stark contrast from the weather just a few hours prior, where a grumbling thunderstorm had belted down rain for over an hour.

The ground underfoot was still damp- the first thing Din noticed as he jumped from his N-1 Starfighter, and his boots hit the, normally, dusty earth just a little way from his small cabin.

Din and Grogu had been out since dawn. Having received a message on the wrist-comm from Carson Teva, who wanted to meet with them to discuss business in a quiet, back-street bar in Mos Eisley.

The meeting had been interesting, with Teva pretty much assuring Din that with the troubles the New Republic seemed to be having with bandits and outlaws on the Outer Rim, he would be kept well topped up with credits for the next Standard year at least!

On the long journey home, Grogu had fallen fast asleep against Din’s shoulder. Snoring softly.

Leaving Din eager to get home, pushing his Starfighter to its limits on the return journey.

It had been Din’s first trip off-planet since arriving back from Nar Shaddaa a little over a week ago. And the Mandalorian was keen to get home and see Lysa. Today having also been the first day that she had ventured into the city, since making her last delivery all those days prior.

Din had spent all of the previous evening showing Lysa how to properly use the speeder bike, which had been a fun couple of hours. At first Din had been rattled to see Lysa speed off, looking like she had little-to-no control over the vehicle in question. But he had been wrong to doubt her. And within just ten minutes she had mastered the precarious speeder easily, enjoying how exhilaratingly fast it moved compared to her sluggish and ancient old landspeeder.

They had made sure that the basket could easily hook onto the back, which it did, even providing Grogu with a fun place to sit, giggling and cooing happily as Lysa did laps of the cabin at a speed. As Din had chuckled beneath his helmet, watching them from the porch, muscular arms folded over his beskar plated chest.

But the basket had been unhooked for now, with Lysa informing Din that she didn't quite want to start back making deliveries yet. Instead wanting to take today to head into town and settle up with a few of the vendors she owed money to for their ingredients, and collect a few things she needed.

She had seemed to him over the last couple of days, a different person to that of a week ago, when she had first woken from her fever, upset and traumatised. Now it was as though that light had returned to her eyes. Her shoulders having untensed and that worried frown slipping slowly away as the days went on.

Din had savoured her closeness this past week, his chest constricting when he was near to her, unable to help the smile that slipped its way into his features when he looked her way. Knowing now that no matter what happened between them now, Din’s heart would forever be hers.

The lights were on inside the cabin now, but they were dimmed, signalling to him that Lysa was likely already in bed. With her having left the lights on low, knowing that he would see them as his ship circled overhead, welcoming him home.

As Din arrived at the top step of his porch, he approached the front door watching as it slid open.

Quietly he went inside only to find Lysa half way across the room, having returned from using the Refresher. Dressed in just her usual short, this time- pale green slip, that ended at her smooth thighs, and bare feet. Looking like an angelic vision to Din.

She smiled happily at their sudden presence, tucking a long strand of mussed-up long blonde hair behind her ear.

He noted that she must have been sleeping, likely roused by the noise from the N-1 landing just outside. The next time he was to arrive back so late he would make sure to park up a little distance away, as not to disturb her. But in a selfish way, he now was glad that he had interrupted her sleep, to allow himself the chance to look at her now, smiling back at him in the twilight.

Lysa’s eyes swiftly fell to the sleeping Grogu still nestled in Din’s arms and her face softened to one of adoration.

“Has he been sleeping long?” she said with a whisper.

Din angled his gaze down to his son as best he could with his helmet half obscuring his view.

“An hour or two,” he commented. “I’m going to put him down and then get freshened up. A Tatooine summer is no joke.”

He watched as Lysa offered him a smile, wrinkling her nose affectionately as she did so. Before she approached, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to the very top of Grogu’s head.

Din felt a swell of pride as he gazed down at them both, realising then just how lucky he truly was.

Pulling back carefully so as not to disturb the sleeping child, Lysa gently passed the pair, heading into Din’s bedroom, as he watched her go for a lingering moment. Before strolling silently into the Sleeper just beside that one.

Less than ten minutes later Din emerged back into the living space, having showered, dressed in just his tunic and pants and helmet now.

He rounded the corner into the sleeper to see Lysa sat facing him from her position on his bed, a smile on her face, her head propped up with a pillow.

And from behind his helmet, Din couldn't help but smile back.

“How was Tatooine?” she asked gently.

Din gave an easy shrug entering the room, beginning to re-unbutton his tunic at the collar.

Din was so used to covering up in front of others, he had not yet become accustomed to walking the length of the cabin without his tunic yet.

“Fine,” he replied tiredly, not having found his day interesting enough to expand on. “How was the city?”

Din was far more eager to hear how Lysa had found her first trip into town since everything that had happened.

“It was good,” she said brightly, her green eyes watching as his neck was revealed little by little. “Visited the market. Everyone was….sweet.”

At her words Din glanced her way, earning a small, but happy sigh from Lysa’s lips.

“Seems like news travels fast when the High-Magistrate comes to Nar Shaddaa to rescue you,” she explained.

Din pursed his lips. “Karga shouldn't have-”

“It’s fine,” uttered Lysa in a soothing voice, giving a small smile. “I don't think any of them had even met Crix, so I think it was all just a surprise to them that I’d put up with someone like that for so long without doing anything about it.”

She gave a small sniff now, her eyes drifting down to her knees for a moment, before she glanced up at him once more.

“And I can see now how stupid I was, of course I can,” she said in a voice quieter now than before. “But…y’know…hindsight can be a funny thing. I think I’d accepted that that was my life. And that I had no choice.”

Din stared back at her for a long moment, as the room fell quiet.

Lysa swallowed harshly before she spoke again.

“I…uh…I also went back to my old apartment today,” she said with a nod, a soft smile gracing her lips once more. “Just to pick up a couple of things, and I…I bumped into my landlord.”

Din stared up at her instantly, his fingers slipping against a button at his collar.

“...and I uh…I asked about the lease…it’s under Crix’s name…” she explained, her face flushing slightly as she spoke, her eyes instantly dropping from his and instead becoming fixed to a loose thread on the white sheet before her. “...and um, well, he asked if I wanted to take it over…”

Behind his beskar Din Djarin suddenly felt his throat go instantly dry and his heart seem to skip a beat.

“...and, well, I told him I’d think about it…” she said, her unsure eyes drifting back up to Din’s, obscured behind his helmet. “...I just…”

Lysa swallowed hard again, offering Din a sweet smile, her wide green eyes full of uncertainty now.

“...I wasn't sure if I’d outstayed my welcome with you…here…” she explained, taking in a breath and seeming to hold it in place, waiting for Din’s response.

A frown slipped between Din’s brows, his brown eyes roving across her face, his breathing becoming suddenly shallow.

Din didn't want her to leave. Not now. Not ever. His heart aching at the idea of losing her.

“Stay,” he said suddenly, his voice sounding stark in the quiet of the room. “I want you to stay. We want you to stay.”

Lysa gazed at him, with eyes filled with a hopeful disbelief and she opened her mouth to speak, but Din did not give her the chance. Cutting across her now.

“After what happened in Nar Shaddaa,” said Din in a serious voice through his modulator. “...I don’t think I can bear to be apart from you again.”

His gaze remaining fixed on hers throughout.

“And I know this place might not seem like much of a home,” he continued, his voice earnest. “But to us…it is now that you’re in it. If you want it to, it could be your home too…”

At Din’s words, Lysa’s face seemed to warm in front of his eyes. A blushing smile breaking onto her pretty features.

“Ok,” she said with a beaming nod.

“Ok,” replied Din firmly, finally letting go of his breath for the first time in what felt like an age, a relieved smile flitting its way onto his face. His chest swelling with pride.

Din’s heart now ached for her. For the woman sat before him, looking like a vision in pale starlight.

And he knew now that he didn't want her questioning things between them again.

He never again wanted to see her uncertain about how much love for her he had.

Never wanted to see her doubt how much she meant to him and how much he wanted to hold her close and never let her go.

As she stared back at him now, Din could see the love pouring from her. Her beautiful face a shining light even in the darkness of the room.

And feeling a lump settle in his throat, and a frown settle itself between Din’s brows, he gazed down at her knowing exactly how he felt about her now.

How he’d felt about her from that first moment he’s laid eyes on her.

The ever-shining sunlight to his dark and pouring rain.

And without warning, Din, with that frown still there and chest rising and falling hard, unpinned his tunic and shucked it from his shoulders. Before reaching over and pressing a hand to the square button beneath the window.

And just before the room, plunged into darkness, he saw Lysa wet her lips gently with her tongue, a warm expectation set within her gaze.

A moment later the room became black, as Din dropped his knees onto the bed one by one, pulling off his beskar helmet as he did so. Throwing it onto the mattress beside them.

And almost instantly he felt Lysa’s hand on his chest, knowing exactly where he was even in the dark. Her palms sliding over his shoulders, as she pulled him close, her lips meeting with his.

Her kiss was soft and sweet and Din felt his chest constrict with the adoration he felt for her in that moment.

Lysa lay back, tugging him on top of her, her fingers threading themselves through his dark hair. Just as Din’s propped himself up with his arms either side of her, penning her in.

Wanting now to right every wrong that had ever befallen her.

Wanting to soothe every hurt.

Determined tonight, to kiss every part of her body that Crix had bruised her.

And moving his mouth from hers, he began to press gentle open-mouthed kisses to her neck, staring from the space just beneath her ear, and travelling down slowly to her collarbone.

Her heard Lysa let out a satisfied ‘mmmmm’, hearing now that she was smiling.

And how Din loved making her smile.

He dipped his head, dropping his lips next to her chest, inching lower, as his rough hands unbuttoned her pale slip slowly, revealing even more skin to him.

A moment later the fabric between them was gone, Lysa letting it slide from her shoulders, propping herself up onto her elbows for a second to toss it aside.

As her back hit the mattress once more, Din’s hands skimmed down her sides, coming to stop on the small of her waist, as his kisses followed, one falling between her breasts before his lips grazed her ribs. Peppering each side with brief and open-mouthed laps.

He knew that Crix had broken and bruised more than a few of her rib-bones over the years. And despite not being able to take those hard memories away from Lysa. Din wanted to do what he could to let her know that the hurt was now gone.

The noise of his lips gently kissing her skin, caused Lysa to emit several soft little moans that were enough to make Din frown darkly, his breathing becoming shallower within his chest now. Enjoying the sounds he was able to ease from her mouth.

Her stomach was next to receive attention from him, followed by her hips, one-by-one, as he slowly moved to her thighs. Positioning himself between them and using his hands to hitch up both legs and press soft wet kisses to those smooth inner-thighs of hers.

He heard her gasp out expectantly, the noise sending waves of arousal coursing through his body.

But he was not done yet. Nor was he ready to finish in kissing away the ghosts of the bruises Crix had once given her. His entire chest constricting, as his thoughts lingered on all she had gone through, and all she had survived.

With Din Djarin knowing that there was nothing she could ever do, for him to consider ever inflicting those same bruises on her.

And so sliding his body up and over hers once again, and propping himself up with one arm taught against the mattress, his face found hers in the dark.

Din pressed a gentle kiss to one cheekbone now, and then the other, feeling her smile instantly at that. Before his lips grazed her temples, once, twice then three times…

…before finally, moving to the space between her brows…

…to that frown line…

…to that place he had once promised himself, long before Lysa had even been his, that he would one day press his lips to.

And it was in that moment, that everything seemed to change. With Din pulling back, feeling his breathing become shallow and that frown that had graced his own brow, returning. As he stared down at Lysa, without being able to even see her in the darkness.

Knowing now that she completed him.

That his existence now felt utterly fulfilled now that she was in it. As though every moment of his life was leading to him meeting her.

And that was when Din Djarin made a decision. A decision which he knew now that he would not regret for the rest of his days.

And so breathing hard, he lifted his face back just an inch, staring down at Lysa…

…as his free hand moved to the window.

And in an instant, Din had flipped the switch…

… opening the shutters…

…with shining starlight illuminating the small room…

…revealing his face, at last, to the beautiful woman before him.

Din gave a harsh swallow, as he stared down at her. His heart thudding inside his chest, almost trembling with apprehension.

Unable to help the fear and worry that appeared in his brown eyes, as he stared wordlessly down at her.

Before him, he saw Lysa blink a couple of times, her green eyes wide, her lips parting gently.

Dank farrik.

What if she found him grotesque?

What if upon seeing his face after so long, she decided that he was not the man she thought he was?

Aside from Grogu and the Jedi, Din had not shown his face to another living being since he was a child, putting on the helmet for the first time.

To him now, this felt like standing naked in a room full of people, vulnerable, with nowhere to hide.

But before Din could worry further, Lysa had lifted her smooth hand to his face, her fingers lightly tracing over his cheekbones and down his jaw, grazing over his bottom lip. As her eyes followed the same path, taking in his every feature.

Before those marsh-green eyes of hers finally settled on his brown ones…

…for the very first time.

And awash in her eyes was a look that told him all he ever needed to know.

A look that told him just how utterly in love with him she was.

A feeling Din reciprocated now, so strongly in return, that he felt his heart might shatter in two if he were to ever lose her again.

A love so intense, he felt that no force in this galaxy could keep them apart any longer.

“Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum,” he uttered aloud, before he could do a thing to stop himself. The words presenting themselves to her, as though she was always meant to have had them.

And for a moment, her eyes searched his…

But Din did not give her the chance to worry on their meaning. As he swallowed hard again, his gaze never leaving hers.

“It means- I will know you forever.”

Din stared down at her as a look of shining awe appeared like morning dew over Lysa perfect features.

“It’s what the people of Mandalore would say to those that they-” he paused, just for the very briefest of seconds, wetting his bottom lip gently with his tongue. “-that they love.”

Din watched, as the frown line between Lysa’s eyes deepended for a split second before her face softened completely.

“I love you,” said Din, with a slight shake of his head, his words honest in the quiet of the night. “I think I loved you from that first time you showed up outside in your speeder.”

A gentle smile slipped it’s way over Lysa’s face, her sparkling ocean green eyes still searching his in the starlight.

“I love you too,” she said breathlessly, reaching up and cupping at his cheek with her hand, as she lifted her head from the pillow behind her head, her lips gently meeting with his.

To Din, her lips tasted like golden honey.

Like pure sunlight.

Her kiss sweet and delicious, and filled with love in its most truest form.

And like that they remained, kissing at one another languidly, hands sliding over skin.

Enjoying every inch of each other as the minutes slowly passed them by.

Until those kisses of theirs became far more heated, the swirling vortex of their need for one another getting bigger and more powerful until neither of them could bear it any longer.

Thighs sliding over hips…

Hands fumbling between them, as Din’s dark pants were pushed from his waist and kicked to the floor.

They felt like magnets now, unable and unwilling to part, as they sought their pleasure, so wrapped in one another neither would have noticed if a StarCruiser had crashed into the planet right outside.

Their lips parted for a brief moment, huffing hot breaths into each other’s mouths, as Lysa’s hand found his erect length, hard and throbbing between his legs. Eager to seek its goal in that soaked aching slit between her thighs.

And a moment later, with mouths hanging open, both mirroring the other, eyes locked, Din was there, buried inside her.

Their pace started slow, with Lysa’s hand moving to his muscular bicep, now flexed taught beside her shoulder. Fingernails from her other hand raking through his dark hair.

And Din could only breathe out raggedly, as their hips began to move in sync with one another.

Moving faster and ever faster.

Lips grazing.

Tongue’s lapping.

Both intoxicated on each other.

Lysa moaned into Din’s mouth, her eyes closing blissfully, as her back arched against the sheets beneath her.

Din’s hands skimmed up the bare skin of Lysa’s warm outer thigh, huffing a grunt into her parted lips, as he buried himself inside her time and time again. The wet, sinful noises between them, truly something to behold.

A moment later, her hand moved to his neck and she lifted her face to his again. Her green eyes seeking his in the pale light.

And their eye contact remained as Lysa fell apart first, gasping out, clenching around his hard cock, which now sodden with her juices.

The sensation enough to trigger Din’s own climax, a dark frown gracing his sweat beaded brow, as he came hard, groaning out as Lysa watched him from her own comedown.

“Dank farrik…” he murmured, as Lysa gave a hazy nod in response, her thumb grazing over Din’s bottom lip, as she leaned her lips in close to his.

“Yeah…” she responded breathlessly, as Din eased himself from her now, his trembling arm almost giving out on him. Settling himself down onto his back, onto the mattress beside her.

The two of them breathing hard, their chests both rising and falling hard in the pale light of the stars.

A few seconds later, Din felt Lysa turn towards him, shifting onto her side to gaze at his profile, feeling her eyes on him.

And shifting his own body, he came to face her.

The pair were silent for a long moment, with Lysa’s hand drifting up to Din’s face, her thumb drifting over the hollow beneath Din’s eye gently, where he bore the small marks of more than a few fights he had both won and lost over the years.

Din closed his eyes, even after weeks of removing his helmet in the dark and feeling her contact, he still cherished the feeling of her warm fingers touching a place he had not had touched by another since he was a small child.

“Won’t you get in trouble for removing your helmet?” he heard Lysa ask now, amidst the quiet. “Isn't it against the Creed?”

Her words were caring and soft. And as Din opened his eyes, he looked upon her face, full of concern and love for him, and only him.

Din’s hand moved to her middle, his fingers reaching the small of her waist as he caressed her smooth skin.

“You are part of my family now,” he said, leaning in and nudging his nose with hers gently. “My clan.”

He saw her green eyes seek his lips in the darkness, watching every word as they spilled from his lips.

“I have abided by the rules for so long. Sacrificing so much along the way,” he continued in earnest, knowing that every word was true.

Being a Mandalorian, he had missed out on so very much.

Missed out on what others sought so often.

On that intimacy, with not only lovers but family too.

But now, Din Djarin was no longer on the outside looking in. For the galaxy had provided him with his own family. His own clan.

“These moments with you-” he uttered now, pulling her hips into his and pressing his hand to the dipped small of her back, holding her so very close. “-we are bonded. And I-”

Din gave a hard swallow now, gazing into the eyes of the woman he loved so dearly.

“I just….I don't ever want to let you go,” he said, letting out a huff of air through his nose, as he reached down, his hand grasping hers.

“You are my kar’ta…” he said, pressing her palm flat to his bare chest, as he translated in a low and firm voice. “...my heart.”

He saw Lysa tilt her head, and tears glint in her eyes in the pale starlight. But she did not let any fall now.

A smile gracing her perfect face as she shifted closer to Din now and tucked her head beneath his chin. Her hand finding his once more, their fingers entwining neatly.

Both listening to the rain as it began to pitter-patter on the roof of the cabin, but neither allowing sleep to take them just yet.

The two of them, Din and Lysa, basking now in the glow of both the rain…

…and the sunlight.

………………………………………………………

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#the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #din Djarin fanfic #din Djarin oc #mandalorian oc #mando oc #mando grogu #Pedro din #pedro pascal #the mandalorian #din x oc #din djarin #Star Wars #star wars au #star wars fic

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ariparri · 8 months

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The Ship of DieRuca

DieRuca is a ship between Diego Caplan, a Hufflepuff who is passionate about dancing and duelling, and Veruca McQuaid, a Slytherin who takes pride in both her duelling and flying skills.

In this post, you'll get to know how Veruca and Diego are within the AUs I ship them in. To find more DieRuca content, you can look through the #dieruca tag.

It took quite a while to write out since there was a lot I wanted to add in here. But I thought it was best to keep the main AUs I like to hyper-fixate on and imagine about. Also, I used DeepL for the translations for the quote. If I’m wrong, please let me know and I'll fix it.

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"You are the music of my heart"

A phrase often shared between the two in place of 'I love you.' Usually said in their native languages.

CANON

The two meet during their first year but aren’t officially acquainted until they both join the dueling club. Veruca mostly ignored Diego’s attempts in making conversation due to his constant flirting both during duels and outside of the club. After many duels ending in draws, Diego became part of Veruca’s circle and joined their adventures.

Throughout their last three years of Hogwarts, the two have gotten close to one another since the dancing competition hosted by Madam Rosmerta.

In 1993, Diego and Veruca officially started dating. The lead up to their relationship was slow with Diego taking the initiative in breaking Veruca out of her shell. Most of their dates involve picnics under the stars or walks in the parks. In 1995 they had their first child, Marisol, out of wedlock and got married some time after. In 1997, they had their second child, Carina.

Both Diego and Veruca take part in the Battle at Hogwarts alongside their friends and former professors while their children are at the McQuaid family home with their grandparents.

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GENDERBENT

Veren McQuaid, the strong and silent, intimidating boy has a soft spot for the flirty, and flamboyant girl, Doria Caplan.

Unlike his female counterpart, Veren appears to be much more intimidating. He's a boy of a few words as he struggles to express himself vocally, he believes his actions will speak for him. He is self conscious of his stoic visage since it often frightens others and causes unwarranted misconceptions of his integrity. His moments of poignant silence and his tall stature scares many away from him, causing him to suffer from loneliness. The closest he has to a friend is Carly (female Carson) since they grew up together. While he doesn't mind Carly's company, Veren gets grumpy when the girl tries to make him bond with others or try to speak for him. When he can't verbally express himself on most occasions, he usually shows simple hand gestures. When he does have the courage to speak, it's usually in the form of short one liners.

Doria would be described as flamboyant, farsighted, a bit egotistical and dramatic. In smaller doses though, those traits are often spoiled by habits of being crude and impatient. A little worse than her male counterpart. She entertains people with 'high-class' etiquette and shameless flattery. While she openly expresses romantic interest, she appears to be oblivious of her own romantic feelings towards Veren. She was completely unphased by his intimidating aura. She constantly showered him with compliments and sometimes even considered him to be her 'bodyguard' due to how easily he can scare people away.

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FLIPPED!

Flipped!DieRuca is a ship you might want to be worried about for Diego because Veruca is very clingy when it comes to her friends and lover.

While original Diego is a flirt, an excellent dueller and great at dancing, Flipped!Diego is quite the opposite. Flipped!Diego typically lacks self confidence. He's not as charming or flirty as the original, he is shy and sensitive and not much of a strong dueller. Flipped!Diego is always caught off guard whenever Flipped!Veruca shows up randomly. His affection for her might be questionable as he does care for her but sometimes finds her to be a bit exhausting to handle. Despite that, he appreciates how she treats him, with so much love and affection even if he's shy to openly be affectionate with her.

Flipped!Veruca is openly friendly, overly energetic, and bubbly until someone disturbs her happiness and triggers the creepier side to her happy personality. She can be extremely clingy, giving lots of hugs and holding hands. While Veruca is perfectly fine with her small circle of friends, Flipped!Veruca appears to be obsessed with making plenty of friends. A bit of an unhealthy obsession as she will force herself to be their friend by clinging onto them till they submit. She once locked herself in her room for a few days to make friendship sweaters for her and Carson. When she became close with Diego, she did the exact same thing but instead of five sweaters she made fifteen matching sweaters for the both of them.

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CARDVERSE

Veruca as the Acting Queen of Spades is no damsel in distress, and is in fact a strong and independent woman. She puts her duties as a queen before anything else and has no time fooling around with trivial matters. As a dominant ruler, romance is the last thing that comes to mind for her, if not ever. Her country and her people come before her and anyone else.

Diego as the King of Hearts retains most of his original counterpart's personality. Loyal, charming, passionate and understanding. He finds Veruca's high walls as a challenge to break down, and he often interacts with her more than the rest of the officials within the other regions. He likes to tease the Queen of Spades whenever he gets the chance, and enjoys the progress of seeing her open up more to him.

Veruca at first found his antics as a nuisance more so than anything. He was always distracting her from her duties and seemed to never take his position as the King of Hearts seriously. She started warming up to him after he showed concern when she was overworking herself. Her feelings for him started showing but since they were from different regions, she tried to deny any thought of being together. She does eventually enjoy his company more openly, and a misunderstanding involving a hand crafted gift starts a few rumors within the Kingdom of Hearts. Their relationship, though starting off as a secret, is easily noticeable by the public.

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MAFIA

In this AU, Diego and Veruca’s personalities are kind of changed. While Diego still retains his charming personality, it is mostly reserved for Veruca, his children and younger siblings. Around others, Diego is more serious, looking at everyone with a cold gaze as if he was staring right through them. When it's necessary, he can resort to ruthless violent acts. With Veruca, she keeps her witty remarks and plays off Diego's advances in the beginning of their relationship. When they get together, Veruca shows her more sentimental side. She's also aware of what Diego's family business truly is and turns a blind eye towards it, after all her family didn’t gain their wealth and fortune through legal ways either.

Veruca and Diego first met at a banquet at the Caplan residence when they were younger. Diego and Veruca’s fathers were friends so they were always invited to parties and other gatherings. Though they met when they were young, they didn't see each other again until adulthood. While Diego is slowly taking on the ropes of the family business, Veruca is a ballet instructor/administrator for a performing arts school. The two meet when Diego was late to pick up his younger sister, Mireya, after a lesson. Diego is aware that Veruca has no involvement in her family’s business and tries to keep her out of it when he’s with her. Unfortunately Veruca gets attacked by a rival gang and she’s in Diego’s care and protection.

The two reminisce about their past and enjoy they’re times together, however Veruca is often left confused and frustrated with Diego constantly switching between being sweet to distant with her. Their relationship deals with a lot of hurdles testing their trust and loyalties, but in the end they both overcome the obstacles.

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QUOTES

Veruca: "Would you stop me, if I ever tried to leave again?"

Diego: "I would. But if you truly want to leave this place behind, then I'll follow you wherever you go."

Diego: "I think peridots have become my favorite gem."

Veruca: "Oh? What makes you say that?"

Diego: "Your eyes, love. They remind me of your eyes."

Veruca: "Goodness, you can be so corny sometimes."

Veruca: "I'm sorry, how many kids did you say you want?"

Diego: "Aha, as many as we possibly can!"

Veruca: "Yeah, we're not competing with the Weasleys. I'll settle for three, but no more than that!"

Diego: "Three is fine by me!"

Veruca: "This is the fourteenth scarf you've gotten. Are you starting a collection?"

Diego: "Oh absolutely! I'm collecting scarves made with great material and style. Here, feel this one sweetheart. The fabric used for this is quite soft and the color would look great with your skintone."

Diego: "You're as gorgeous as ever, Ruca."

Veruca: "Oh stop it—, you spoil me too much. I don’t need all these jewelry."

Diego: "You should get used to it. I plan to spoil you for as long as I live. Nothing but the best for you."

Diego: "Mi cielo, I know you wanted to teach them young… but did you really have to blow up the wall?"

Veruca: "Our daughters are naturals! But, I guess I can start training them outside by using those old trees as training targets."

Diego: “Eres la música de mi corazón”

Veruca: “Is ceol mo chroí thú”

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FUN FACTS

❧ Their song is Stand By Me covered by Seal.

❧ Diego and Veruca get married on November 23rd 1995.

❧ They had their first child, Marisol on June 26, 1995. Their second child, Carina was born on July 28, 1997. Their third child, Ruairí was born February 4, 2003.

❧ Diego and Veruca enjoy slow dancing in their kitchen or garden after dinner.

❧ When Diego was traveling for dueling competitions, he would send Veruca souvenirs from the places he's been to.

❧ In both the Cardverse and Mafia AUs, Veruca is more passionate about dancing and pursuing a career in it rather than law or politics.

❧ Diego has a scarf for every occasion. His collection is big, he and his children often have little fashion shows with them. Veruca would join in by providing her brooch and pins collection.

❧ Diego had given Veruca a carnation that was enchanted to never wilt.

❧ Veruca's necklace she wears after their marriage has Diego’s initial, while Diego has a bracelet with Veruca's initial.

#dieruca #veruca mcquaid #diego caplan #about my ship #hogwarts mystery #hphm #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hphm mc #hogwarts mystery mc #diego caplan x mc

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angelswing236 · 6 months

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"What if we're wrong?"

Fictober 2023

Category: Fanfiction

Fandom: Downton Abbey

For the fourth time in ten minutes, Robert opened his mouth to say something and then closed it without uttering a word.

Cora sighed, putting her book down. ‘What?’

‘Nothing, nothing,’ he muttered.

‘Look, something is obviously preying on your mind, so just come out and say it,’ Cora said, tilting her head and fixing her husband with a look as they sat propped up against the headboard.

‘I just… well, what do you think about…'

'About?'

'About Mary and Tom?’

‘What about Mary and Tom?’ Cora asked, pushing for more information before committing herself.

‘I… well, I just… that is to say… do you…’

‘Oh, for goodness sake, Robert, just spit it out!’ Cora huffed, impatient now.

‘Do you think… I mean, do you ever wonder… do you think they are… too close?’

‘Too close?’

‘Yes.’

Cora eyed him carefully. ‘All right. Tell me what’s made you think that.’

‘Well, it’s… it’s not one thing in particular, necessarily, but a general feeling. I mean this evening, I saw her brushing lint off his shoulder while he carried on talking to Isobel and neither of them seemed to think anything of it, and it just… well, it suddenly struck me that that’s the sort of thing you do for me.’

Cora looked at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. ‘You noticed that?’

‘Yes. Why? Is that so strange?’ he said, somewhat defensively.

‘Yes, it is because it’s not very like you to notice things like that. Did you also notice that when Carson went to make sure everything was ship-shape in the dining room before dinner Tom mixed Mary another of her favourite cocktails, so it was there ready for her just as she finished her first one?’

‘I did notice that!’ Robert replied, looking quite animated. ‘And then after dinner, she gave him his favourite petit four from her plate! Did you see? She put it on his plate while he was talking to Isobel.’

‘I did see that. But he did seem to acknowledge that gesture. It looked very much to me like he reached out and squeezed or patted her leg under the table,’ Cora said, sharing that rather juicy observation.

‘Did he?’ Robert gasped, his eyes going wide at the implications of that. ‘I did not see that.’

‘I can’t believe you’re finally noticing these things,’ Cora said, twisting sideways to face her husband more.

‘What do you mean “finally”?’ Robert asked, indignantly.

‘These small moments have been happening between them for months now. They do little things for each other without breaking stride or even mentioning it. It just happens, like it does between us. Except we’ve been married for over 34 years. And they are forever finishing each other’s sentences.’

Robert pursed his lips, thinking about the little signs of intimacy he’d noticed between his eldest daughter and her brother-in-law. ‘So, do you think…’

‘That they are having an affair?’ Cora finished, raising an eyebrow.

‘Yes.’

‘What do you think?’

'I'm not sure.'

‘I certainly think it’s a possibility.’

‘Really?’ Robert asked, his eyebrows scooting up.

‘Don’t you?’

‘I’m not sure I want to think about it,’ he said, wrinkling his nose.

‘I think we have to.’

‘Well, what do we do? Do we ask them if that’s the case?’

Cora shook her head, aghast at the thought. ‘No! Of course, we don’t! What if we’re wrong?’

‘Do you think we are?’

‘Honestly? I don’t know. I know I’ve noticed all of these little things, and if even you have noticed them, they must be getting fairly obvious now.’

‘Charming,’ Robert grumbled.

‘Oh, darling, you know as well as I do that you have to be beaten over the head with matters of the heart sometimes before you see them. But not in this case. So, what I’m saying is that if you’re asking me about the state of the relationship between Mary and Tom, then I’m fairly sure it’s unlikely to be strictly platonic between them,’ Cora said, baldly.

‘So, what do we do? Are we in favour of it? Or should we be putting a stop to it?’

‘I’m not sure how we could put a stop to it. Not without chasing Tom out of Downton. Is that what you want?’

Robert chewed his lip. ‘No, I don’t. I confess I’ve grown rather fond of him.’

‘I know you have. And there’s also the other thing we must consider.’

‘What other thing?’

‘If Tom leaves Downton, so does Sybbie.’

Robert shook his head, horrified at the thought of his beloved granddaughter going anywhere. ‘No. Absolutely not. We can’t have that.’

‘Well, you know it’s a possibility. Tom’s been talking about possibly going to America to work for his cousin.’

‘Then maybe we encourage whatever this relationship is between him and Mary,’ Robert said, giving his wife a calculating look. ‘If he and Mary are… well, you know, then he will stay. And so will Sybbie.’

‘But is it right that we do so?’ Cora asked, looking troubled. ‘What about darling Sybil? He was her husband.’

‘Yes, and I think after all this time, we can both acknowledge that he did love her.’

‘I always knew that, Robert. It was you who fought against it.’

Robert sighed. ‘I know. He wasn’t what I wanted for Sybil.’

‘And now? Is he what we want for Mary?’

‘I think Mary is long past living her life and choosing her lovers based on what we want, don’t you, Cora?’ Robert said, wryly.

‘But her brother-in-law? Is that right?’

Robert was silent, pondering that. ‘Do you know what I think?’

‘Tell me.’

‘I think, in the end, if they are an item, if they do love each other, I would not object. After everything they’ve both been through, they’re actually oddly suited to each other, don’t you think?’

Cora breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I do. And we’re both very fond of Tom, aren’t we?’

‘We are.’

‘So, are we agreed that we don’t say anything and just see how things pan out?’

Robert nodded. ‘Although if he starts talking seriously about going to America, I think we should take Mary aside and order her to marry him.’

Cora gave a surprised laugh. ‘Really? That’s a bit much, isn’t it?’

‘Absolutely not. Like you said, if Tom goes, Sybbie goes, and I will not have that. What better way to keep them here?’

‘Goodness. Well, perhaps we’d better hope they are in some kind of romantic relationship, otherwise that will be a big shock to Mary.’

‘Well, needs must, Cora,’ Robert said, firmly. ‘Needs must.’

#fictober23 #downton abbey #robert crawley #cora crawley #implied brary #fanfiction #writing prompt #writing challenge

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aconites · 4 months

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happy 2024! as it's a new year, i thought this was the perfect time to post a plotting call for those who might be interested in writing with me! if you want to do threads with someone who will message you at the crack of dawn with random headcanons, musings and create graphics (manips, gifs manips, crackships, etc ) for our characters — look no further. i also have no triggers, am sm.ut friendly and i love to do multiple plots with the same partner. bellow the cut you’ll find a list of wanted faceclaims, opposites, ships and plots that i would love to do and if anything catches your interest please give this post a like and i’ll message you. this is for mutuals & non mutuals, so feel free to like this even if we have threads/plots happening already!

faceclaims i’d love to play! * melissa barrera** * greta onieogou* * ana de armas* * phoebe tonkin* * margot robbie* * camila queiroz** * sydney sweeney* * ayca aysin turan * hande ercel * alycia debnam-carey* * simone ashley * melisa pamuk* * adria arjona * anya chalotra * olivia cooke * kristine froseth * grace van dien * grace van patten * jessica alexander* * madelyn cline* * madison bailey * priscilla quintana* * meghann fahy * benedetta porcaroli * camila morrone * riley keough * suki waterhouse* * adelaide kane* * florence pugh* * crystal reed * sophia bush * ester exposito * lily james * lily collins * gabriella wilde* * sofia carson * josephine langford * danielle rose russell * danielle campbell * abigail cowen* * halston sage * camila mendes * brianne howey * gemma chan * eiza gonzalez * lindsey morgan * zendaya * sabrina carpenter * candice swanepoel * elsa hosk * jasmine tookes * emily ratajkowski

faceclaims i’d love to play against!

* all the ladies above * pedro pascal** * ben barnes** * joseph quinn* * joe keery* *christopher briney* * henry cavill * ricky whittle * casey deidrick* * jd pardo * jamie dornan * adam demos * richard madden * sam clafflin * carlos miranda * scott eastwood * garrett hedlund * drew starkey * clayton cardenas * jonathan bailey * jeffrey dean morgan * rudy pankow * felix mallard * dj cotrona* * charlie hunnam** * sebastian stan* * alex fitzalan * dylan o’brien* * nick robinson * manny montana * chris evans* * harry styles * jacob elordi * boyd holbrook

some ships i’d love to do! * any of the above fcs combined tbh. ( m/f or f/f ) * click here for full list since tumblr has a text limit.

plots id love to do! * this unhappily married dad/babysitter plot. * * this angsty/fluffy my best friend is having my baby plot. * * this zombie apocalypse/last of us inspired plot* but also any za plot. * celeb plots! especially this one. something like two super famous actors hiding their relationship or famous person/non famous plots?* * single dad/nanny plots! give me something cute and angsty. * * escort/client plot where she breaks the most important rule… don’t fall for your client* * grumpy ceo/soft assistant plots.* * royal plots! bridgerton esqued plots! * * f/f socialites plot… blair/selena/upper east side inspired muses but make it gay* * college professor/teacher’s assistant plot. * college professor/student plot. * crimey plots? sons of anarchy inspired? or maybe m.afia/m.ob/gang stuff?* * bodyguard/client plots bc i’m a sucker for them* * soulmates plot. i have a whole lore i’ve been wanting to write out for ages so * sugar b.aby / sugar d.addy plots * * best friends to lovers plots ( gimme angst) * WHEN THE M.OB PRINCESS MEETS THE M.OB PRINCE: forbidden love is always angsty so why not do that and add rival g.angs to the mix? muse a is the daughter of the head boss of the local g.ang and is sick and tired of having her life controlled by her overprotective father. so, to rebel against his wishes after an argument, muse a decides to go to a nightclub that her father had always forbidden her to attend. unknown to her, the club is run by the rival g.ang’s boss’ son, muse b, and not knowing who she is, can’t stop looking at her on the dance floor. they eventually bump into each other and after having a few drinks, end up at muse a’s apartment and they hook up. i was thinking they both never brought up their families and their true professions and maybe start to hang out/go on dates and then bam, the truth comes out and drama begins. especially when they can’t stay away from each other.

* MY BEST FRIEND IS A ROCKSTAR: (tw: death) muse a & muse b have been best friends since they were kids and grew up together. throughout their childhood, muse b had always told muse a about his plans to become a famous musician and as he grew older, became more and more determined to make those dreams come true. when they both hit their teen years, feelings eventually grew and the two were head over heels for each other but neither of them was ever able to admit it. they were both terrified that the feelings would be unrequited or that it would ruin their friendships so just imagine the angst of them seeing each other with other people and FGHDFG. anyway, when muse b finally turns twenty-one, he decides to move to hollywood to make his dreams come true, and muse a stays in their small hometown. they keep in contact with one another but as time went on, muse b becomes a huge rockstar with his band and their contact start to drift but they always had each other in their thoughts, wishing they were closer to one another. a few years pass and they still speak but it’s not like before. muse b was hugely successful and enjoyed the life he was now living but always felt like something was missing. that someone was missing… it’s not until he gets a distraught call from muse a telling him that her mother died does he rush on a private jet and comes home to her. after helping her arrange the funeral and being there for her through her grief, he suggests that she comes on tour with him and the band. wanting to run away from everything and everyone in her small town, she agrees. queue cute ass moments on the tour bus, traveling the world and falling in love like they did when they were young. add drama, angst ( because they’re both still dumb and won’t admit to their feels) stadium tours, TENSION!!!, groupies, etc, etc.

CLICK HERE FOR MORE BC TUMBLR HAS A TEXT LIMIT.

#indie rp #indie oc rp #indie bi rp #indie crime rp #indie smut rp #indie zombie rp #open rp #indie bridgerton rp #indie royal rp #indie celeb rp

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unboundtravels · 3 months

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐄𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞... @calopsic

A shockwave rumbled the Constellation vessel Odyssey. The ship had been exploring space areas outside of the Settled System's territory. What could only be described as disturbances on the edge of civilized space had prompted them to investigate, especially when colonized worlds that'd detected them directly asked for The Constellation's assistance. The flagship Odyssey had ventured out beyond what was charted space, as the disturbances had become the most prominent in uncharted space. What happened next was a struggle to remember...

All 907 members of the crew of the Odyssey knew next that the ship was in red alert and The Captain had ordered them to return to civilized space within the Settled Systems. Despite the standing investigation orders, the Odyssey was firstly and foremost an exploration flagship— meaning that there were families aboard, and with such a large population— an order to return to the sol system with the utmost haste had sent everyone into a frenzied panic. There was chaos aboard the ship, and nobody even really knew why. The ship rocked, and rumbled, and sparks popped from the ceiling and walls of the ship. At the very least— the emergency was real.

The Acting captain of the Odyssey was staring over the shoulder of the Helmsman, attempting to chart the quickest route back to the Sol System with the fastest speed that engineering could give them. Eventually, Captain Daniels moved over to his science officer, leaning over and trying to make sense of the readings.

"What the hell is attacking us, Carsons?" "It's hard to say, sir... the ship's sensors are labeling these as shockwaves, not hostile weaponry." "Shockwaves? Like the boom after an explosion?" "Yes, sir, Captain."

The Science officer chewed on their lip as they examined the readings, "These readings are strange regardless, Captain— the computer's trying to tell me that these shockwaves are from an explosion that hasn't even been recorded, yet." She explained, but before The Captain could even inquire about shockwaves from the future— the helmsdeck signaled his attention.

"Sir! Another shockwave!!" The helmsman cried, and The Captain shouted for all hands to brace for impact. The shockwave came, causing sparks and explosions to crackle across the bridge. Some members in the hallways and engineers fell over the railings and crashed onto the ground. After an assessment of the damage caused to the ship, The Captain moved over to the helmsman. "Where the hell are these shockwaves coming from?" He asked, waiting for the helmsman to calculate the distance. The paling of their face caused The Captain to sweat.

"Sir... these shockwaves are coming from the next solar system over."

There was a brief silence maintained despite the red alert. Suddenly, the silence was pierced by security. The Captain turned sharply when a beeping resonated from the control console.

"Captain! Something just punched through our shields!" "The shockwaves?" "No, captain—" A pause, confusion. "Unidentified object! Materialized in the cargo hold!"

The Captain recoiled, exhaling sharply before moving over to his chair. "Who can we send down to investigate?" The Captain turned toward security, who unfortunately shook his head. "All available personnel are aiding in the maintaining of the ship— though we do have contracted crew members available." The officer informed The Captain, who huffed in annoyance, "Bounty Hunters. Of course." He exhaled, swallowing his pride and signaling one of the contracted constellation hunters.

"La Pucelle— this is Captain Daniels. We've got an intruder down in the cargo hold below engineering. I need you to check it out," The Captain signaled. "If it's Hostile, find out what these shockwaves are but focus on containment— if it's a non-combatant bring it up to the bridge. Daniels out." The Captain ordered, before looking back towards the helmsman.

"More speed, Helm!"

#!!!. {in character | ic}#ivb {the scarf doctor: time war}#calopsic #//Hoping this works!#//I just used npcs this first reply to set up the narrative of the thread #//but next reply it'll be The Doctor in the cargo hold.

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divine529 · 5 days

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Realm of the Elderlings Ask Meme Thing

I was tagged by @tragediegh! Thanks so much! I haven't seen this one floating around in a long time!

Favorite Rote Book: It changes fairly often, but currently "Fool's Errand".

Why: It's the least harrowing Fitz book (yes I know he's pulled out of his quiet life and back into the fray of politics and intrigue and it comes at a great cost to one of his nearest and dearest). I just love how quiet it is, Fitz and the Fool's dynamic is top tier and Fitz is in an interesting place as a character and it has some of my favorite scenes and quotes in it. It reads like a romantic comedy in some ways. There's just so much to love about it.

Top Three Favorite Characters: This is a tough one! There are so many characters I love (it might be fun to do by Fitz books, LST and RWC honestly), but the ones who live in my brain rent free most days are always The Fool (all of their facets), Nighteyes and Fitz.

Top Three Least Favorite Characters: To say I agonized over this question for a long time would be an understatement. Hobb has such an incredible ability to write compelling dislikeable characters to the point where everyone adds something to the story even if you hate them. There are plenty of characters I find irritating though, but do I actually dislike them? No. There are only two characters I truly hate and the third I'm mentioning I just feel very apathetic about for the most part. I truly dislike/hate Kyle and Hest, and the third is Bee. I don't hate her, but I don't love her.

Favorite Ship (of the floating kind): Paragon, but I also love Ophelia.

Top Three Favorite Ships (of the people kind): I love so many ships both canon and non-canon and it also changes (except for Fitz x Fool, they're always a constant). Fitz x Fool are my everything always, Alise x Leftrin and Malta x Reyn (but shout-outs to Patience x Lacey, Burrich x Chivalry, Brashen x Althea, Malta x Nettle and Carson x Sedric too.). Truly I love how shippable RotE is across the board and the complexity of all of the relationships, issues and all.

Would you rather be Witted or Skilled? Honestly I see the benefits of both and if I could have both, I would pick that, but since I have to pick one, I'll pick Witted.

If you were Witted, what animal would you bond with? That depends on where I was living. If I was by the sea, dolphin, if I was on land a dog of some kind or a wolf possibly or a red-tailed hawk or possibly a horse and most likely a Friesan. But being realistic, some kind of canine.

Would you rather live in the Outislands, the Mountain Kingdom, the Six Duchies, Bingtown, The Rain Wilds, Kelsingra, Jamaillia, The Pirate Isles, or the Fool's Homeland? Another tough one! Probably either Bingtown or the Fool's Homeland (Mercenia I believe?). Realistically, I'd be a nomad and hop from place to place because they all interest me.

How were you introduced to the books? A close friend of mine from college read them and I was in one of those places where I looked at my shelves and nothing looked appealing, asked her for some recommendations and RotE was one of the series on the list (she didn't tell me it was 16 books at first) and I started it and the rest is more or less history.

Share a quote you love: Should I show you the tabs on my books? There are so many quotes I love, but I'll pick one or two.

'History is no more fixed and dead than the future. The past is no further away than the last breath you took.' Fool's Errand

"Don’t do what you can’t undo, until you’ve considered what you can’t do once you’ve done it." Assassin's Apprentice

"Leave the pain behind and let your life be your own again. There is a place where all time is now, and the choices are simple and always your own. Wolves have no kings" Royal Assassin

And so many more, but those came to mind first.

Tagging: I have no idea who has done this or who wants to do it, but if you love RotE, and you see this and want to do it, consider yourself tagged!

#realm of the elderlings #rote #books #asks #my musings

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dangerously-human · 1 year

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Favorite Stargate Atlantis head canons? I've just be popping into people's asks today LOL

Ah, bestie, I am sorry it took me so long to get to this, my responses to asks/tags are quite backlogged! I do LOVE this question, though, and have been looking forward to having the time to properly think about it all week. So, it should be clarified that I'm a little stingy with headcanons proper, that is, headcanons in the sense that I fully believe "this did happen" or "this is how it would go down in this happened in canon." But I have two about Sheppard you can pry out of my cold, dead hands: 1) Sheppard's mom died when he was pretty little, maybe 8ish or possibly younger, of cancer or another drawn-out illness, and a huge amount of the tension between John and his brother is that Patrick (that's his name, right?) was old enough to have to deal with more of the emotional and practical fallout, supporting their dad, actually understanding what their mom was going through, and he resented John for being "babied" (not to mention having to take care of him) and yet still grieving even though he didn't have to shoulder as much of the burden. And then, on a happier note, 2) whenever Sheppard eventually has a kid, he is the most ridiculous worrywart, hovering over his wife from the second he finds out she's pregnant, panicking so much about the birth that Carson or Keller threatens to send them back to Earth just to not have to deal with him (or, if they're back on Earth at that point, the doctor kicks him out of the room because he can't handle having three patients, two is enough, thank you). I mean, come on, after how he reacted to Teyla's pregnancy, you know he'd be a mix of freaked out and fawning the entire time, like he would jump through multiple stargates for the purpose of fulfilling late-night cravings but he's also going to probably be at risk of being murdered (knowing the kind of woman he'd end up with, fierce is an understatement I'm sure - we'll pretend I've successfully taken off my Sparky ship goggles for the time being) for being overly protective.

#personal #stargate atlantis #stargate

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thefae-journal · 1 year

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A Cup of Kindness

fandom: A League of Their Own ship: Gretson

word count: 4504 originally posted: December 30, 2022 warnings: none also written by: lazyboo, LSgrimm91, meren_plath, OhGretaHoney09, Two_Gays_and_a_Hippo, zulu

summary: In 1943, Lupe, Jess, Esti, Jo, and Shirley reunite at Greta and Carson’s New York apartment to ring in the new year.

Also on AO3

A League of Their Own masterlist masterlist

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The New York sky was dark outside the apartment. The noise of the neighbourhood, that could so easily get on Carson and Greta’s nerves the rest of the year, just added to the ambiance of the evening.

“Car,” Greta managed between the deep kisses Carson was taking from her all-too-willing mouth. “People are going to be here any minute.”

“I don’t care,” Carson said against Greta’s lips, diving in for another kiss.

Greta tipped her head back and laughed, not trying in the least to remove Carson’s arms from around her waist. “Hey, we only just got our clothes back on.”

Carson grinned her quietly wolfish smile. She knew better. She knew Greta liked to take her time to primp when the occasion called for it. She knew she had stolen more than an hour to talk and laugh and touch, when Greta normally would have been curling her hair and trying on the fourth outfit of the night before company arrived.

“I can’t help it.” Carson moved back to take in Greta’s appearance. She’d done a decent job not mussing up too much of Greta’s fresh hair and makeup. She looked beautiful in her maroon pencil skirt and flowy, long-sleeved white blouse.

“Try,” Greta half-admonished. “You know Shirley will be early, I’m surprised she’s not here—”

The doorbell rang. Greta looked at her watch. “See?” She checked her hair and lipstick in the small mirror on the wall by the front door before shaking her head at Carson. It miffed her slightly that looking at Carson, no one would never know she’d had three orgasms in the last hour. Greta still felt flushed.

“Shirl!” Greta said as she opened the door. “Come in! Come in! We can’t wait to hear everything about the engagement.”

“You two! Eek!” Shirley let out a high-pitched scream that Greta and Carson both tried to prevent themselves from flinching at. “This place is so great, and so…you!”

Neither Carson nor Greta knew if that was a compliment or an insult when it came from Shirley. They shared a look as Greta ushered Shirley past the entrance into the living room.

Another knock at the door saved them both, but this time, the door opened immediately as Joey let herself right in. “Goodbye, 1943!” she called as she slammed the door behind her.

“Joey!” Greta yelled as she ran into a bear hug. Usually, Joey was perpetually late to everything, but Greta had asked her to try to be on time for this evening’s festivities.

Jo gave her a smirk and looked around. “Wow, the place looks...”

Greta slapped her on the arm. “What?”

“Well, I guess I expected more than a closet.”

Carson walked up to greet Jo. They shared a commiserating look. “Space? Who needs space?”

“You’re not helping,” Greta told Carson.

“That’s not what you were saying earlier,” Carson said with a smirk, bumping her hip against Greta.

Jo raised an eyebrow, impressed at the confidence that had grown in Carson in the few short months since the season ended.

Jess, Lupe, and Esti walked through the door next. Together, as usual.

“Look at this joint!” Jess exclaimed. She walked up to Greta and Carson and hugged them both together.

Lupe came up behind her and punched her arm. “Be less of an idiot.” She hugged Greta and did her faux shoulder check into Carson as was their usual greeting.

“I thought you were bringing the new girl?” Carson asked.

Esti gestured with her flat hand across her neck that Carson should drop it.

Carson held up both hands. “Ohh. Sorry.”

Carson opened beers for everyone who wanted one, which included Shirley, to her surprise. Carson handed her the bottle with a grin. She was entertaining the girls with the harrowing tales of their clandestine first few months in New York when Greta offered to grab more drinks. Carson saw her slip out of the living room. As soon as her story was done, she gave a quick excuse that likely nobody believed, and met Greta in the kitchen.

“It’s so good to see everyone again,” Carson said as she wrapped her arms around Greta from behind.

Greta clasped her hands around Carson’s and leaned back into her, so that Carson could tuck her chin on Greta’s shoulder. “If we make it out of the house, it will be a New Year’s miracle.”

Carson squeezed her tight and breathed her in. “Hey,” she began as Greta turned to face her. “You, me, the Peaches? Whatever we do, it’ll be great.” She leaned up and pressed her lips firmly against Greta’s, sighing with contentment.

It was only a little over a month ago that she’d shown up at Greta’s apartment, with a few bags in hand. After the season ended, Carson had decided not to go back to Lake Valley. The tiny town was all she’d known before joining the league, and at first, it had felt like she’d only be allowed so much freedom before she’d find herself crawling back. Carson knew, in September, that she needed some time for herself. Time to see herself without Greta. But it was being without her that tugged at Carson’s skin.

She’d tried being with other women. Most of them reminded her of Greta. In the end, none of them could take Greta’s place. The fire of her red curls sitting just below her shoulders—her hair had grown since the summer, and she’d recently got it trimmed. Her hold, how her arms felt when Carson moved into her embrace. Warm, almost an aura that surrounded her. It pulled Carson in and caught her, like an easy pop fly.

Carson had spent time travelling in the months she was apart from Greta. Seeing places she’d never thought she’d see. Greta sent her letters, which was how Carson knew where to find her when the time was right. After spending some time in Las Vegas, Carson boarded a train to New York. To her new home.

Greta was shocked when she opened the door and saw Carson. There’d been no letter, no post card to let her know that Carson would be coming. That was how Carson wanted it to be, a surprise. But Greta pulled her into a hug, and the embrace turned to heated kisses as soon as the apartment door was closed. They abandoned the bags and moved into the living room. Hours went on, until Carson was lying on Greta’s chest on the couch, both of them naked, spent.

If Carson was completely honest, it wasn’t the most comfortable couch in the world, but at that moment, she didn’t care. She was with Greta.

Was with her, still. Stealing moments in their own kitchen while their teammates chatted and laughed only a few feet away. Carson let the kiss end, and pressed her cheek into Greta’s shoulder. In her arms, even the chaos in the living room was somehow drowned out.

“You’re right,” Greta said, brushing her thumbs over the backs of Carson’s hands. “This is all that matters now, huh?”

Carson hummed into her shoulder. “You know, I don’t mind staying here tonight. Not going anywhere.”

The Peaches were their family, and Carson wanted nothing more than to spend the beginning of the new year with them. But it was Greta who sent out the invitations, addressed from the apartment they’d made their own in the month since Carson arrived. Carson had added more personality, pictures on the walls, while Greta looked for the perfect decorations, a cut-crystal ashtray for the coffee table, a lamp that glowed with a lovely yellow light. The apartment wasn’t what it was, when Carson first walked through the door.

“But,” Carson continued, letting her hands fall to Greta’s waist and pulling her closer, “I also know that you want to see the ball drop. I’m sure the others would like that, too.”

Greta hooked her arms around Carson’s neck and tilted her head to the side. “I love you, do you know that?”

Carson giggled. “I love you, too. Do you know that?”

“I think I’ve always known.” Greta bent down to kiss her, but the sound of early fireworks made Carson jump back. “You okay there?”

“Yeah. Yeah. That seemed close. I guess it caught me off guard.” Carson glanced over her shoulder into the living room. And for a moment, she watched the others, her team.

The sharp ding of the egg timer Greta had set earlier reminded them they still had company to entertain. Carson had already handed around the drinks, and now the food was ready.

“Carson, can you get me a plate to put the hors d'oeuvres on?”

Carson snapped to attention, doing as she was told. Greta donned an oven mitt and pulled the baking sheet out of the oven. Every time Carson thought that she had Greta all figured out, Greta went and surprised her. She didn’t know why she expected Greta to be a bad cook, although Greta had never really seemed the domestic type. But here she was, pulling out all the stops for their friends and teammates. Better her than me, Carson thought, her memory of the failed conversation pie she had made for Dove still fresh in her mind.

Carson loved seeing Greta like this, in her element, full of joy and laughter. It was so rare to see Greta natural and relaxed. She was always the first to keep up appearances in the outside world. Her hair, her makeup, and her clothes were a kind of armour. It was more than that, though. It was the calculated way Greta sized up every situation and made herself smaller. She always made sure she fit. Except for now. Not when she was with the team. Not when she was with Carson. She was so much more at ease with herself. It was beautiful.

Greta filled the serving plate and Carson made to leave the kitchen and rejoin their friends. Suddenly Greta blocked her way. “Not yet,” she said. “You’ve gotta pay the toll first.”

Carson stood up on her tiptoes, careful not to drop the plate and gave Greta a kiss on the cheek. “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

Greta bit her bottom lip and raised her eyebrows in response and Carson knew what she was thinking.

“Later,” they both said at the same time, smiling.

Greta watched Carson as she went into the tiny living room. She knew she should get out there and play hostess too, but she allowed herself this moment. She wanted to remember everything about it: the laughter of the people who knew and loved them, the festive atmosphere, but mostly Carson. Carson’s laugh, her radiant smile, the way she looked at Greta. Greta didn’t know it was even possible to be this happy, to have this life with the woman she loved. Maybe Jo was right. Some things were changing.

“Hey Bird! Get in here!” Jo yelled.

“Coming!” Greta responded as she quickly joined the team in the living room.

It was no easy feat fitting everyone into such a small space, but at least the normally chilly apartment warmed up quickly. There wasn’t a single seat left. Jo had taken the wingback chair and Esti was curled in the armchair. Lupe sprawled across most of the couch, with Shirley primly sitting at the far end. Jess was sitting on the kitchen table, her feet on the rungs of a ladderback chair. Greta sighed in resignation and gave Carson, who stood looking adorably lost in their own living room, a wave with her finger towards the coffee table.

Greta didn’t have to see Carson put the food down as she found a spot on the floor near the bookshelf; the sudden rush of movement behind her and pleased exclamations were indication enough. She sat against the wall, her feet curled delicately under her. As hungry as everyone was, Carson would be lucky to escape the throng.

Yes, there she was. Greta gave her a soft, adoring smile and held out a hand, summoning Carson to the floor beside her. Carson settled right against her, a warm hand on her knee.

“I think those are a hit.”

“All food is a hit.”

“But even Shirley likes them.” Carson nodded to her friend, who was trying to eat a small tart that was obviously still too hot. Jess, too, had grabbed a handful that was too hot, and was juggling the pastry from one hand to the other. She fell onto Lupe’s legs on the couch, and the two of them started a shoving match over the middle cushion, ending up with Jess tucked against Lupe’s shoulder.

Greta cast her eyes around the room and felt almost overwhelmed at the sense of ‘home’. This felt a bit like the night at The Office, before the raid, the first—the only—time she’d been able to be with Carson openly. But unlike that night, she had her friends here and... and she felt much safer. She and Jo had never stayed in one spot long enough to set down roots, so having people travel to see her, to gather for a special occasion in the home she’d made with Carson, was something new. Something to treasure.

Sometimes it scared her, if she was honest. If she dared to have something she valued, she knew how much more it would hurt to have it taken away.

The hand on her thigh tightened, bringing her attention back to Carson.

“Are you all right in there?”

Greta just took a second to enjoy looking at Carson. Carson always seemed to know when Greta was getting lost in her thoughts. Perhaps the difference was that Carson came back. She fought for them. So did the Peaches; after all, they were here. Her own family may have been awful, but the family she had here—they were different. Real.

“Never better.” Greta covered Carson’s hand on her thigh with her own, lacing their fingers together. She finally gave her attention to Shirley, who’d been carefully placing her left hand on her knee all evening, the tiny solitaire sparkling on her finger. “Hey Shirl, we’re invited to the wedding, right?”

“Oh! I get to be the flower girl!” Jo decided, lifting a finger to volunteer, much to Shirley’s wide-eyed horror. She couldn’t even object; her mouth was still full of Greta’s hors d’oeuvres.

“I don’t think you could handle the responsibility, De Luca.” Lupe snickered from her spot tucked behind Jess, earning her a poke from Esti. Poor Shirley was inundated with quick-fire questions from everyone—where did she meet him? When did she know? How did he ask? What was he like in the sack?

“What about baseball, Shirl?” Carson asked, and everyone fell silent. Once a coach, always a coach, it seemed.

Finally Shirley spoke, fiddling with her nails. “I want to play, but I’m not sure... I don’t know if I can.”

There was a solemn silence at the thought of their teammate not coming back next season. Greta was the one to break it. “You will, though; you’re a Peach. We stick together.”

“And if not, we’ll break the guy’s legs,” Jess added, with alarming nonchalance.

“That’s very…sweet, very sweet of you,” Shirley said, with a tense grin at Jess.

“We’re never going to make it downtown if we don’t get going,” Greta said, clapping her hands to relieve the tension.

“Boo, downtown,” Joey said. “Come on, Bird, you know we won’t be welcome there. Not really. Let’s stay in.”

Jess and Lupe clinked the necks of their beers in a toast to that, and Esti said, “We will need música. Radio?”

Carson grimaced. She wished they could afford one, but she hadn’t found a job since she’d moved in with Greta, and while Greta’s work with Vivienne Hughes’ company was well-paid for an unmarried woman, it didn’t stretch to luxuries.

But Greta was quick to jump to her feet and head for the window. She forced it open, letting in a swirl of chilly air, which was welcome after the stifling heat of so many people in the small space. With the window open, the sound of jazz music filtered in. “Noisy neighbours,” Greta said. “Never thought I’d be grateful to be hearing their music at all hours of the night.”

A new song came on as the jazz song finished—Billie Holliday. Carson stood up and held out her hand to Greta, who stepped gracefully into her arms, a soft smile on her lips.

“Look at these two,” Lupe commented. “Still can’t get enough of each other. Hasn’t it been months?”

“Yeah, like they aren’t the ‘noisy neighbours’ at least half the time,” Jess said with a grin, ignoring Greta’s death glare. “Come on, Esti. Let’s dance.” Jess grabbed Esti’s hand and swung her into a rather more vigorous dance step than the cluttered living room could stand.

Jo bowed low and offered a gentlemanly hand to Shirley, who looked wide-eyed and frozen for a split second before she tentatively put her hand in Jo’s. Jo put a hand on Shirley’s hip, but kept a respectful distance between their bodies as she led Shirley in a waltz that didn’t match the song’s rhythm in the least. Lupe, sprawled on the couch with her beer, said, “I’d cut in but I don’t see even one of you who actually knows how to dance.”

Carson grinned up at Greta. “Is this okay?” she asked quietly. They’d danced alone, often, but in the hot, stuffy room, with other bodies brushing past them—even if it was all their friends—she thought Greta might need to take a step back.

Greta shook her head, a brief gesture meant for Carson only. Her hand on Carson’s shoulder slid down to the small of her back and pulled her closer, so that their bodies moulded closer together. Carson inhaled quickly and Greta smiled tenderly at her. “It’s okay. More than okay.”

Without any space, and only the faint sound of the neighbour’s radio to dance by, there wasn’t much they could do but sway in each other’s arms. In other words, it was absolutely perfect. Carson brought Greta’s hand to her mouth and kissed her knuckles. They missed the change of songs, and Esti pulling Lupe into the dance; Jess and Jo fighting over who should lead; Shirley accepting a rather closer dance from Lupe than Jo had given her. So it was with complete ease that Carson pressed up and brushed a warm kiss to Greta’s mouth, kissing her softly, and then not so softly as Greta’s lips parted for her.

They only broke apart at the sound of Lupe’s disgusted groan. “We didn’t all bring someone to neck with,” she said. “If we’re not going out, then no fair showing off.”

Greta smirked at Carson and leaned close one last time, to murmur against her ear, “Later for you,” and then, spinning out of Carson’s arms, said, “It must be nearly midnight.”

“Stop being such a grouch, Lu,” Jess called, trying to dip Jo and then laughing uproariously as they almost fell into a tangled heap. “Once we get back to Rockford they’re not going to be able to do this anymore, leave ’em be.”

Lupe screwed up her face, sour.

“Watch out, García, the wind’ll change and you’ll be stuck lookin’ like that forever.” Jo pointed at Lupe’s face, then screwed her own face up, mirroring the pitcher’s distaste.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you all.” But there was no heat in it. Lupe spun Shirley out and away. Walked over and hip-checked Carson affectionately, before picking up a nearby drink and checking if it contained any liquor. “If it’s nearly midnight we better get some refills here, Shaw.”

Carson grinned. “You wanna give me a hand with the drinks, Lu?”

“Do I look like the help here?” Lupe paused, and held up a finger in warning when Jo opened her mouth to retort. “Don’t answer that, De Luca. You’re the host, Shaw, you get the drinks.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll get the drinks.” Carson glanced over at Greta, who was watching their interactions with a smirk curving her lips in the way that sent little tingles down Carson’s back. She gestured with her head towards the kitchen, and Greta nodded. Followed her out of the room.

As soon as they cleared the doorway to the kitchen Carson spun Greta around and pressed her up against the wall. “It’s later now, isn’t it?” she asked. She leaned up on her toes and was barely an inch away from Greta’s mouth when they heard a yell from the other room.

“Cut it out, lovebirds. I want a drink, you can kiss when the ball drops.”

They looked at each other for a moment. Greta’s lip twitched in amusement, and Carson laughed outright.

“All right, Lu,” Greta yelled back. “But no whining from you when we do.”

“Oh, for crying out loud…”

A chorus of laughter sounded from the other room, and then Jo called out, “Two minutes, Bird!”

“We’re hurrying, Joey!”

Greta opened the door of their icebox, and started passing bottles to Carson. Carson juggled four beer bottles in her arms, almost dropping the fifth when Greta tried to hand it to her. Greta rolled her eyes, chuckled fondly. “You take those out, I’ll bring the rest.”

They passed out the drinks, listened to the faint sound of the radio—and the much louder cheers from the street—call one minute, and then thirty seconds. They all crowded by the window to hear the countdown, and it seemed as though the whole neighbourhood had the same idea.

“Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven…”

Greta reached out and clasped Carson’s hand.

“Six. Five. Four. Three…”

Carson stepped away from the window, away from their teammates. Tugged Greta with her.

“Two. One.”

“Happy New Year!” Outside people were shouting, fireworks were going off, car horns were blaring on the street.

Carson was aware of the others jumping up and down, of them hugging each other and twirling around the room. But she only had eyes for Greta, who was staring right back at her.

“Happy New Year, Greta.” Low, and husky.

“Happy New Year, Carson.” Barely a whisper. Then Greta cupped Carson’s jaw with her hand. Angled Carson’s face up as she leaned down. Carson sighed contentedly as their lips met.

A salty drop landed into Carson's lips, while a tear rolled down her cheek. She looked up. Greta’s eyes were wet; they showed a multitude of emotions, thousands of memories drawing a crystal clear line under her iris. Greta smiled widely, trying to hold Carson as close as she could, while their tiny living room was filled with laughter and joy. The voices of their teammates joined the ones around the neighbourhood, exclaiming Happy New Year! over and over again. The sound of fireworks soon started to mix with the cheering, with the happy voices, with the pure and unbiased joy of their teammates and the rest of the city.

“Nineteen forty-four,” Greta said.

“Yeah.” Carson felt frozen, paralyzed, looking at Greta, trying to paint a perfect picture of it so she could remember it whenever she wanted. She had never felt this happy during a Christmas celebration, especially since her mother left. This was what happiness should look like. It was all new, all good, better than she could ever have imagined. Carson felt her heart full, so full of love, she didn't know what to do with it. Being here, in their small apartment, with her teammates and her loved one—her true family, in the end—was what a family should look like. No more judging looks, nor uncomfortable dinners and parties; just joy. Joy that could be shared and felt.

“Do you think it’s going to be a good year?” Greta whispered.

Carson had never seen Greta so hopeful. So willing to hope. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I do.”

Greta cried. For the first time in many, many years, she had someone else to share New Year with other than with Joey. No more the two of them alone, in a lost city somewhere across the States, in a crappy apartment or worse motel room. No more running away after spending a few months elsewhere. Everything was all right, as things should be. And she cried for happiness, she cried for joy, for having her—her Carson—in front of her, wishing her a happy New Year.

For an instant, everything froze in time for both of them. Neither of them could have known 1943 would take such a turn. They couldn't have imagined how much their lives would change. For a moment, they tried to grasp as much as they could from that moment, as many details they could remember. The Peaches in their home, their first Christmas together, them being able to welcome the new year together, for the first time. A fresh chance to start over, to leave all the hurting, all the bad things, in the past.

“¡Feliz Año Nuevo!” Esti shouted out the window, making everyone laugh, while Lupe shook her head.

“Happy New Year, everyone!” Jo grabbed both Greta and Carson by the arms. “We thought it would be good to go to the rooftop to see the fireworks, wanna come?”

“Oh, sure.” Greta smiled, brushing the tears from her eyes. “That would be lovely.”

All of them grabbed their coats and climbed the stairs up the last floor. Greta opened the door leading to the roof and all gasped, marvelled at the sight. Esti ran with Jess and Lupe, while Shirley stood a bit behind them, trying to warn them about getting too close to the edge. Carson wandered, looking at the sky, looking at their friends, looking at her love. Greta did the same by Jo's side, squeezing her arm and hugging her.

“I'm so glad for you, Bird.” Jo said softly. “You've changed, and this new life suits you.”

“Do you think so?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this… So happy, so alive.” Jo tilted her head towards Carson. “She's good for you. And you're good for her.”

“Thank you, Joey.” Greta smiled again, still crying a bit. “No more running away.”

Jo winked at her and left her with Carson, while she joined the rest of the Peaches.

“Did you wish for something when the New Year started?” Carson grabbed her by the waist and pulled Greta closer.

“Yes…”

“Are you going to tell me?”

“If I do… It'll stop being a secret, and it might not come true…” Her hand caressed Carson's cheek softly, trying to brush away the cold. “Did you wish for something too?”

“Uh-huh… But it's a secret too.” Carson mustered as their lips found each other again.

While they kissed, Greta closed her eyes again, and murmured, almost too softly to hear, “Let’s be together. Every New Year’s, from now on.”

#a league of their own #fanfiction #writer #fanfic #carson shaw #greta gill #jess mccready #esti gonzalez #shirley cohen #lupe garcia #jo de luca #aloto #gretson #greta x carson

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