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#I'm nervous as f---
proxdragon · 1 year
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So, I've been doing something since yesterday and I kinda like most of the results!
What I did? I showed some of my friends the reference sheets of the ALIVE comic crew and said "Choose one for me to draw!"
Just a disclaimer: The characters and the comic were created by @tatatale and if you haven't read the comic, please do! It's so cool!!
So (Fanboy mode aside), these friends of mine don't know shit about undertale... much less the multiverse, so their choices were mostly because of appearance!.....
The first one was Alive!
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(Each drawing has some notes, hope it isn't annoying)
I even added my friend's phone to it 😅
When I told her that Alive would probably open her phone, she went nuts for a second! Telling me to erase it! It was funny!
The second one was chosen by an emo friend I got.. he chose Blooky.....
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I love Blooky but hate what I drew.....
I feel so goddamn bad for drawing them like that..... ANYWAY!
Third was my bestie's choice: Soul!
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Another one I think I screwed up! The hands specially! 🫠
Next is: Maddy!
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Not much to say, I like it!
Then lastly: Gaster!
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I had to pose him like that when I realized the size of his sleeves... and I didn't know that the heart on his chest is a hole..
Anyway, that's it!
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i-am-a-fish · 4 months
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this year I will become a powerful lesbian
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ay0nha · 8 months
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This world needs sanji ANGST...i haven't seen anything like that that isn't immediatley fluff so plz plz plz do angst OR maybe enemies to lovers but reeealll enemies ther'es gotta be beeeffff
tension. jealousy. protectivness. what the hell. where is it.
thank u :3
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Pairing: opla!Sanji x f!reader
Word Count: 1.3K
Warnings: canon-typical things, smoking, cursing, the Baratie, mentions of annoying/handsy costumers, RUSHED ending (sorry), etc.
A/N: Hello anon! Thank you so much for the request. I started a little sm sm based of this request and a couple similar ones. It's just a start, so let me know if I should turn this into something more/longer...I have ideas...COMMENTS ENCOURAGED. Enjoy.
PART II
You always preferred sailing on quiet nights.
Fewer lights from the ship scared the stars into submission. It was the only time your shoulders settled and your breaths became leveled. The air’s humidity wrapped you in warmth and the patterned waves lulled your racing thoughts. 
Yet, the lights of the Baratie reminded you that those idyllic nights remained only in memory, few and far between. The chatter radiated an aura, which functioned as a reminder of the never ending responsibilities of hospitality. 
Your dwindling cigarette marked the time left of your break, but you savored every second. You slouched into your shoulder, head resting softly to the side to acknowledge the footsteps approaching you. 
“Sanji.” Even with your back to your newly found company, you knew who had found you. He always had. “If Zeff sent you…” You drew in a deep and finalizing breath, the crackle satisfying in contrast. “Turn around and fuck off.” 
The breath of his laughter exposed his delight at your demise. “Your funeral—
“—Our.” You corrected him. Finally offering a glance, you saw he’d replaced his apron for a tie. Always trouble, you thought.
“Nah, you’ll be alright…” He tutted with humor. “Regardless, who can I count on to spit on my grave?”
You hummed to hide a semblance of a smile. Sanji’s charm was worthless to you, never working in his favor. It had taken years of coaxing past vindication to even occupy the same space. So as always, you’d removed yourself to create a more familiar distance. 
“Funny.” You only ever entertained him with sarcasm.  Flicking your butt into the darkness, you began to walk away. “Just don’t get in the way.” 
The night was busy—every night was busy. You hadn’t minded the adrenaline or the late hours. It was what kept you going, kept you from realizing that slowing down would never be an option. 
But then the constantly spinning world stopped. Your wrist was caught in the hand of a guest, the very one whose crude remarks failed to cause a reaction. However, your plastered smile only encouraged him. You became a challenge he hadn’t realized would eventually retaliate. 
It caused a scene, glass to be broken, and scolding from Zeff that echoed throughout the kitchen. Your pent up venom led you to an ultimatum; cool off or leave. Now, your headache dulled in comparison to the nausea you felt walking back in. 
Hearing your name you turned to see Sanji’s face illuminated with his lighter. His eyes were fixed on his task, but you knew he was speaking directly to you. “You’re alright, though? Right?”
It was happening more frequently than you’d like to admit; your sarcastic insult caught in your throat and your breath pinned to the roof of your mouth. Your words were lost. Sanji was responsible for the confusion of feelings and it only furthered your resentment. 
Yet, your voice was never found and so you nodded with promise. 
Instead, your wrist throbbed and you were sure by the end of the service the bruising would surface. But you rolled it as if the action could wash away the pain. You straightened your posture, pulled a practiced smile, and held a soft air as you began again greeting guests table by table. 
The people dining waited their turn just as those rubbing elbows with them. From the decor, the crystal, story of the menu, even you were a part of the experience.  Performance was key and you were nothing but stellar at pretending to be someone else. 
“Good evening—” You greeted.  Your voice could have been mistaken for sultry. Some nights you struggled to recognize yourself. “—I’ve noticed you’re back and your wine is getting low.”
“Always attentive, you.” The Baratie regular reveled in the banter. It was formulaic at this point, but the atmosphere captivated you both. 
“I can’t help but play favorites.” You countered, granting a heavy pour of wine into his glass. Your dress cut low, ever dip intentional to distract from the mountain of Berries owed for the aged wine provided. 
His eyes took in your figure, falling into the trap. “Apparently, I’ve got competition.”
You wanted to feel good, as you normally did. The fabric complimented your physique and kissed your skin with such sensuality. The feeling of hungry eyes on you never grew old. The assurance was always refreshing. However, there was a weight tonight that wasn’t the fault of the fabric.  
“Pirates can never resist treasure.” You pushed past the crack in your demeanor. You smiled wider, but your eyes cast down at your wrist hoping it didn’t reveal too much too soon.  
The bark of laughter almost made you flinch. “Not the filthy pirate! Your friend there—” The man continued, complaining about nonsense while raising his already dwindling glass to Sanji. “100 Berries he’s spit in my food.”
That swirl in your chest had just settled, but it returned as your eyes met Sanji’s.  His glare wasn’t shy, burning through you. Judgment about your pairing of wine, most likely. Regardless, you noted the fluidity in his movements pulled him closer to you. 
The man laughed at the slight staring contest. You internally cursed at breaking first. 
“He’s harmless.” You muttered, pouring another serving of wine. Moving your body kept you distracted from the unspoken. 
“Harmless?” The man scoffed, inebriation heavy in his inflection.“The scum of a pirate walked—well, crawled really—out of here with nothing but a bloody promise of a slow death.” 
You remained light and playful as you finished the conversation, distracting your regular enough to slip away. You made your rounds just as Sanji had, but you were clever to dance around him, avoid him. 
It worked at first, but it only aggravated Sanji. He spoke loudly and boldly about the well-known service, slipping in insults and intentionally sabotaging everything you’d just smoothed out. It may not have been intentional. It rarely was if you thought about it, his disappointment reserved for Zeff. 
It was as though Sanji had tunnel vision. His upset became yours conscious or not, as every complaint and move he made contradicted yours. It made you trip and stumble. It began to make the night agonizingly slow as he became the barrier between you and the end of the service.  
You’d boiled over, pulling harshly on his arm until you both crammed into a blindspot of the rest of the restaurant. 
Sanji’s eyes blew wide, but his smirk only widened. Even in his state of mild shock, his mind wandered. “What are you—  
You straightened his tie harshly, a threat. “Fix your attitude.” 
“Mine?” He countered with disbelief. “If Zeff understood—
“I don’t care about Zeff. I don’t care about you.” You hissed, pushing a finger deep into his chest. Slowly your composure was unraveling, but you regained it quickly, speaking pointedly, “What I care about is this night being over.”
Sanji took the beat of silence to look between your eyes. You were frazzled, your collectedness hanging on by a thread. He could guess why, but you’d never admit he was correct. 
“Are you even listening?” You prompted again, ready to move back with utter impatience. 
However, Sanji touched the wrist that was within distance causing your body to freeze.  “You need ice.”
His hold was gentle, but he felt the heat come from the swelling. The pain was catching up to you. 
“Enough.” You spat, wobbling with your steps backward. “Enough of—” Tonight, you wanted to say. The kindness threw you off, made you feel seen in a way you wouldn’t accept. “Just—
“We’ll finish the night smoothly.” Sanji spoke evenly, decidedly for the both of you. “Then, I’ll find ice for you.” 
Your chin raised for your childness to surface. “I can take care of myself.” 
“I have no doubt.” Sanji felt his emotions settle on his face, the smirk was hard to call on, but the air had become too tense not to with such unfamiliar territory. “But yet, If I don’t help you, you’ll milk it for weeks and I’ll never hear the end of it.”
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johnslittlespoon · 2 months
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– blue days, all of them gone...
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jupiter-soups · 10 months
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summer camp sadness
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synopsis: when it’s Sarah's first time away from home for overnight summer camp, Joel is unprepared for the wave of emotions that overtake him.
tags:  fluff, single dad!joel, no outbreak!au, joel just generally needing consolation that sarah is still his baby girl
word count: 2.3k
a/n: this was written for the pedro pascal cinematic universe discord server fest!!!! please feel free to join in and write something too, or just join the server and have a good time as we talk about all of our favourite dilfs!! link: https://discord.gg/2SBkmdbp
anyways, this is just a cute little oneshot because i just know that Joel would be struggling with his little girl growing up. also this is set in like 2010-ish? they’re the same ages as the show, i just wanted to make a 2009 reference lol. enjoy!!!!!
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“And you have Uncle Tommy’s number written down too?” He asks for easily the thirteenth time since they had begun the four hour journey to Camp Yaupon, while fussing with the zip on his daughter’s baby blue puffer jacket as she stands in front of him.
The curly-haired girl lets out a drawn out groan in response, shifting a few steps back to get out of his nervous grip, “Yes, dad, I have his number, I have your number, I have the neighbor’s number, please, can I just go? Before everyone else makes friends without me?” She’s practically bouncing where she stands from the nervous energy, beyond eager to head in and begin the next three weeks of soccer, crafts, and female friendship.
He loosens his grip on her jacket and nods solemnly, clearly running through a mental list of questions to find any reason to extend this goodbye. When he comes up empty, he grabs her and pulls her into a huge bear hug, practically lifting the girl from the ground in his embrace. 
“Dadddddddd,” She groans, trying to pull away with a sheepish, embarrassed expression, as if she was praying that the other girls didn’t see this moment of affection. He had explicitly promised that he would be cool when they got there. She should have known better when he began to tear up as her Hannah Montana: The Movie soundtrack CD began to play ‘Butterfly Fly Away,’. “I need to gooooooooo, it’s fineeeeeee” She drags out, awkwardly patting him on the back.
With her embarrassed tone, he finally pulls away with a small sniff, and rubs his hand across his face as if he was merely affected by hayfever from being parked out near the woods.
“Sorry, darlin’,” He chuckles awkwardly to play off his emotional outburst, “Of course it’ll be fine, just…you’ll be so far away, is all.” The girl’s eyes widen in panic as she spots the redness in his eyes and realises that it is very likely that he is about to start up again. She chooses to pat him on the arm a few times with a warning look, as if to say ‘get it together, old man.’ 
“Alright, alright. I get it. You have fun now, sweetie. Call me before bed, okay?” 
He watches as she scampers off before she pauses briefly, trying to decide which group of teen girls she should approach. He swallows dryly, trying to fight the pinching in his eyes as the sinking feeling that he was really about to be without her for three whole weeks began to swallow him up again. 
You stood a good dozen feet away from him with your own daughter, Ellie, who was rolling her eyes at you. “Come on, Els, if you don’t put it on I can’t let you go and get settled. It’s a four hour drive back, just let me go home already.” You insist, doing your best puppy dog eyes as you hold out the bottle of sunscreen at her.
“Fine,” She gives in, snatching the bottle with an overexaggerated glare that makes you giggle at her fake misery. She begins to slather it onto her face, making noises of disgust at the scent, before complaining “Y’know the second you go home, this bottle is going straight in the trash, right?”
“Ellie. Humor me, just this once,” You say, deadpan, causing the girl to snicker.
“I apologise, mother, I shall be sure to apply the sunscreen diligently every six hours, as per your wishes,” She says in a fake English accent, grinning at the way your eyes narrow in displeasure. 
“I’m sure it’ll be real funny when I never come and pick you up,” You say, dead serious, before breaking to swipe off a remnant stripe of white sunscreen from the side of her cheek. 
“Come here,” You give her a quick hug, knowing not to overdo it and embarrass her. “You’re gonna be careful, and call me if anything bad happens, right?” You press a small kiss to her forehead, immediately making a disgusted face at the remnants of sunscreen, something that Ellie notices and cackles at. 
As Ellie skips away to the friend that waves at her with their full body, you watch with a smile, trying to will away the tears that threaten to fall. This wasn’t new for you, but it was still a strange feeling, knowing that your girl wouldn’t be waiting for you at home. From the corner of your eye, you spot a similar scene unfold.
A man, watching his daughter leave, with that very familiar look of sheer panic marring his pretty face. You had been there before. You approach him carefully, noting the way his fists were clenching and unclenching by his sides in some sort of attempt at containing his emotions. 
You cough slightly to make him aware of your location, feeling sort of guilty at the way he was caught off guard, flinching at your presence. “First time?” You ask, a small comforting smile adorning your lips.
He lets out a slightly pained huff of a laugh, looking back at where his daughter was now sitting at the picnic table, “That obvious, huh.” His voice is small at this moment, before he suddenly seems to snap out of it and clears his throat. He stands up straighter and rubs a hand on the nape of his neck, trying to laugh it off more convincingly this time. The way his eyelashes were slightly wet gave him away.
“Guess I’ll get used to it.” He says resolutely, as if he was willing it to be true. He sticks out a large hand as he introduces himself, and you take it, shaking it twice. “Joel Miller, Sarah’s dad.” He pauses before remembering, “Oh, uh- That’s Sarah.” He gestures over to the cute tween girl now animatedly talking to your own daughter. You grin at the sight.
“Oh, I am so sorry. She seems to have met my spawn, Ellie. That’s her over there,” You point at the girl who had somehow stood on the table in the two seconds it took for you to point her out. His genuine laugh warms you, and it takes you a second to remember to introduce yourself. He squints slightly as you say your name. 
“Anderson Middle School, down in Austin?” He questions to your surprise. 
“Uh- yeah. Ellie’s just left their eighth grade class.  Have we met before?”
“No, not really. I just-uh. Think I’ve seen you before, at a PTA event. You were complaining about the girls soccer team getting their budget cut, if I remember correctly.” 
“Yes, that was me!” You confirm, “It did fuck all to help, but Ellie was proud of me for telling the superintendent to go to hell. So, that was nice. Did get banned from any and all following meetings, though.” You grimace at the awkward memory.
He chuckles, and you both fall into a comfortable silence watching your kids laugh with each other. Ellie was now sitting cross legged on top of the table, and Sarah must have been telling her a joke given how you could hear their laughter all the way where you were standing.
As the bell begins to clang, indicating that it was time for the campers to head on inside and that parents could finally head home, you notice Joel tense up beside you. A glance to your left proved that your suspicion that he was not handling this well was correct, as you saw the way redness was rising up his neck and into his face. He chews on his lips as he watches the girls pass through the cabin doors, finally out of his eyesight.
“Hey, it’ll be alright,” You can’t help yourself from comforting him, feeling the pain that you felt just last year when it had been Ellie’s turn to stay at an overnight camp for the first time. His bashful expression as he looked up at you with tears forming in his eyes melted your heart and you pressed a gentle hand against his firm shoulder, rubbing comforting circles.
“I promise, it’ll get easier. Last year, I was so scared to be all alone in that empty house without my Els, but it’s not too bad. Especially once you remember how nice it is to be able to day drink.” You joke, trying to lift his mood. 
He chuckles once, and tries to straighten himself up, squaring his shoulders and turning his head away from you to wipe at his eyes quickly before turning back. “Just goin’ to be weird. So used to her yapping on about her little boy bands. Three whole weeks without her,” He trails off and lets out an exhausted sigh, “Goin’ to be weird.” He repeats to himself quietly. 
“Single dad?” You ask, recognising that bitter fear of loneliness that you yourself had experienced many times in the process of raising a daughter on your own. He nods slowly, and turns to face you, seeming to finally have given up staring at the door that Sarah disappeared through. 
“Jus’ been me and her, goin’ on eleven years now.” He confirms, seeming to have slightly pulled himself together. He sort of looks you up and down for a second, before asking “What about you? Single?” He hesitates before stuttering out, “Single mom, I mean.” 
“Yep, just me and Ellie since she was four.” It’s in this moment that you realise you're still holding on to his shoulder absentmindedly, and you quickly withdraw your hand to your side. God, his shoulders were broad and firm.  His face did seem a little brighter, too, and it looked good on him.
“I know it can be hard to deal with when they first start to have a little independence, but there’s good to it as well. You get to have a little independence, too. And, I can say from experience that she’s not suddenly going to stop needing you. She’ll probably be on the phone to you before you know it.” 
“You’re right, I know. It’s just,-” He sighs, his slightly defeated tone still persevering in a way that told you that he had been wallowing in this for a while, “How can you know that? That she’ll still need me or want to call me. What if I go home, and she’s having so much fun that I don’t hear from her for the entire three weeks,”
You gesture to the ground beside him, to a pink backpack you noticed just a moment before, “Well, for starters, she’ll need to call you when she realises that she forgot that. Unless you’re the Hello Kitty fan in the family?” You tease gently, unable to hold back your laugh at the exasperated look on his face at his daughter's forgetfulness. Ah, the duality of being a parent. 
“God damnit, Sarah,” He frowns as he picks up the backpack, shaking his head in disbelief. “She would forget her own head if it wasn’t attached to her neck.” 
“See? She needs you.” You affirm, giving him an encouraging nod.
He chuckles, and the lingering sadness in his eyes seems to dissipate at the realisation that you were right. “Thank you,” he murmurs quietly, reaching out to give your forearm an appreciative squeeze. The sensation made heat rise to your face, and so you’re grateful when he turns around and begins to jog up to the cabin.
You watch for a moment, before turning around yourself and heading to your car. As much as you wanted to stay and talk to Joel, it was probably best to start the long drive back without letting yourself linger in the way his smile made you feel.
As you take your seat behind the steering wheel and begin to buckle yourself in, you think about how the handsome man looked you up and down, letting his eyes linger for a second too long on your body before they returned to your face. Tapping your fingernails against the steering wheel for a couple of minutes, you considered if maybe you should have hung back for just a moment longer, before deciding that you were probably overthinking things.  
You practically jump out of your skin at the urgent rapping of knuckles against the car window next to you. You see Joel standing there, chest slightly heaving as if he was out of breath. The window squeaks as you roll it down to face him while he leans down to speak to you once more. 
“Sorry, I-uh,” He swallows nervously, and takes a second to catch his breath, “I didn’t realise that you went back to your car– I just. Would it be alright if I got your number?” He asks in a rush, holding out a beat up old blackberry that had its battery duct taped in.
He must have sensed your confusion as he quickly continues, “It’s just. What you said, about independence. Maybe I should make the most of some time alone. Maybe…I don’t know, I could take you out, or somethin’” The way he shifted his weight nervously despite the casual words he used made you want to giggle at his expense. 
“Really? You’re not going to be too busy moping around?” You tease, despite taking the phone from his hand and beginning to type in your own number.
He laughs sort of breathlessly, relief tinging his words as he explains “The second I walked in there she ran over and gave me a big hug. Said she missed me already.” He didn’t bother fighting the grin on his face, “Couldn’ bring myself to tell her off for forgetting her bag.”
You laugh as you pass his phone back to him, heart beating faster as your fingertips brushed in the exchange of the device. 
“I’ll be fine,” He says, tone sure and even, as he looks at your number with a soft smile. “Really.”
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a/n: again, this is for the pedro pascal cinematic universe discord server! please join if you want to :) we're nice, i swear!!
also, PLEASEEEE let me know what you think! posting is so nervewracking!!!
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vermillionwinter · 1 year
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Fever Dream
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Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian f!reader
Summary: How many chance encounters can you have before you decide fate has intertwined your threads? With the 141 on leave pending an investigation, you appear to Simon, a lighthouse in the distance calling him to safety.
Warnings: Mutual attraction, slow-burn series (our boy's got a lot of work to do), Spicy thoughts-not explicit.
Note: I haven't had the will to write like this in years, but Simon Riley has reawakened a beast, and I need to get all the words out. So, this is a very rusty piece of work, but hope y'all find some enjoyment! Tattoos are the only physical descriptions I believe. the 2nd POV's are bringing me back to middle school Quizilla days.
Quiet. Everything in Simon’s Manchester flat was too fucking quiet, and the air stagnant when he was home. And that silence gave his thoughts the freedom to creep and dance to the murkiest valleys of his subconscious. Wrapping its tarry tendrils around the very memories Simon wanted to keep locked behind the chained door, dragging them out of him to relive every excruciating moment the darkness saw fit to unleash. 
Sitting in the single chair of his small, round table, Simon could catch wafts of soil and decay wrapping him in the tight confines of the damp wooden coffin. His lungs tightened, constricting the oxygen he needed. The fear of no escape webbed its way through the calm fog the prior glass of bourbon provided. It was as if the darkness narrowed in on him, boxing him into the point of full paralysis. The arms of his chairs he gripped tightly in his fists began to transform into the feel of the corpse that once was buried with him. 
HONK!
Simon’s eyes shot open, and he took the deepest breath he could muster as his lungs got used to the feeling of a full inhale and exhale. His eyes darted around in panic taking in every detail of his barren flat. It was sparsely furnished with essentials, one of them being a bed large enough the behemoth of a man could stretch upon comfortably. As comfortable as one could get when they're accustomed to the hard ground or the scantily padded cots.  
Simon shot back the bourbon he originally poured to savor and appreciate relishing in the slow burn it made down his esophagus. What he wouldn’t fucking do to get back out on the field. 
“As soon as we're back, gents, we are boots on the ground finding these bastards. We’ll find Shepherd and every lost Shadow.”
Ghost hadn’t been deployed since he took the last shot at Hassan in Chicago- weeks have passed. Bloody fucking investigation into Shepherd’s and Shadow Company’s off book deals called that all operators on the ops related to Graves’ and Shephard’s stolen missiles had to take mandatory leave pending investigation. Shadows were still getting wrapped up for questioning. There were few still on the run. But they’d find them. They didn’t deserve the courtesy of living their lives in fear. The face of death is all they were due. 
Betrayal. Betrayal got his family killed. Got Simon Riley killed. And now good soldiers lie dead in fields, their graves forever empty; and families lie dead in the streets of Las Almas. Innocent lives taken by those he once defended, defended the 141. 
Glass shattered against the opposite wall before Simon realized he threw the blown sand from his hand. Shoulders sagged, defeated, depleted, ready to give into the quiet of his home. The benched operator stood from his chair and made his way to the shower. He’d clean the mess later. He was alone after all. Always alone. 
Simon walked through the small crowds, prolonging the journey to his destination to walk to a path he didn’t have to squeeze through a throng of people. Wisps of the fresh air sauntered over him, releasing threads of tension into the open. Easing him from looking over his shoulder and checking his surroundings more often than they stayed in front of him. To his relief, no one was following him. Venturing out into society felt like an op in its own way. Having to blend in when you lived your life in anonymity. He wore a different mask in the calm of the world. One fewer people were familiar with than the ominous mask he donned on the field.  
And Las Almas was proof of why. Shephard was a loose-end that needed to be handled yesterday, and Simon couldn’t shake off the constant feeling he would be found. Just as Roba had found him. He couldn’t very well walk around with his most distinguishing feature on full display, a beacon where to strike next. Simon had to stay vigilant. For himself, but most importantly for them. Nothing could get to them. 
Sleep was an elusive luxury Simon would not allow himself since he was dismissed on leave, not that he had the best slumber before then. Running on cat naps, caffeine and spite. The blame and guilt eating away at him, letting those bastards go unseen. And all he wanted was five minutes alone with Shepherd. Ghost wanted the ex-general begging for his life as it left his very body. 
To…
All of Simon's plans of vengeance were halted when you stepped out onto the patio of the bakery he found a form of solace in on leave- emerald lace dress billowing around your body, combat boots peaked through with each step you took. Ethereal. A goddess among man. You were divine and entrancing as you stepped lightly, despite the clunky footwear you chose. He was in the door before he could notice where you sat, but hell he found himself praying at your altar you would be in perfect view. 
La Gouter was one of the few havens Simon had found in the area. The crowd was moderate, but constant. Tea was always fresh, and the man could not resist the warm, buttery treats. Today he sat with a chocolate croissant with his black tea- two sugars, no cream. Balance. 
A book tucked under his arm, he leaned against the mural of Paris- where he had a clear view to the left, right, patio door adjacent to his table, and the entry of the cafe itself. Which also gave him the view of his tea shop muse, and a sudden warmth rushed over him when you looked towards him, eyes honing in on his eyes. Target locked. 
Looking down quickly, he cracked open the book that accompanied him. Laying there waiting to be read, to transport the reader to another realm. A world where he didn’t have to be Simon Riley. Now he could get lost in the spice filled sands of Arrakis. Simon let his eyes settle on the pages behind the orange cover. 
Twenty pages in, half the tea gone, he felt his eyes drifting again. Black nails adorned your lithe fingers-wrapped around a pen you used to write in the notebook splayed on the table. Legs shifting, the slit of your dress exposed more tattoos scattered on your smooth leg. Wouldn't it be nice to run his fingers over the lines of each piece of art that was displayed there? To feel those hands wrapped around him instead? To lay you out in front of him the way your notebook was exposed to you. Lines of intrigue covering both flesh and paper. He wanted to know the webs of thought spinning from your head to paper. The sounds your lips would release at his touches. Were they soft and airy? Low and rough?
Fuck, he shook himself from the lasvicious thoughts (swirling in his head) throwing back the rest of his tea that he dearly wished was bourbon, and left for the gate. But as he threw his trash into the bin, he had that feeling. There was an energy when eyes bore into you. Watched your every move, like you were prey. Their target . Taking in even the smallest of twitches.
Chalked it up to being on edge after Las Almas, but fuck he needed to get back to his flat now. What if Shephard had found him? Ghost had no shortage of enemies that would crave nothing more than to spill his blood. Were the others still alive? Gaz. Price. Soap. But Simon wasn't met with a bullet when he turned around to face whoever was trailing him. No. Simon found curious eyes glistening in the sun- following his every move. Down to the smallest twitch.
Simon felt his heart stutter, a catch in his throat when you flashed a disarming smile, painted in dark red. Stomach in unfamiliar knots, he froze for a moment soaking in your warmth in the moment of vulnerability. He wanted that warmth to blanket him in its softest rays. It was terribly disarming. Blinking out of his stupor, he found tantalizing eyes paired with a shy smile greeting him. But, the brute didn’t know how to respond; his mind was still in conflict. And he left without another glance in your direction, all the while wondering how someone could glow in the dull skies of London. There was enough sunlight to bathe you in its golden rays. The shimmer upon your skin was like nothing Simon had ever seen, your beauty enraptured him. 
You watched the giant of a man turn-hands shoved in his pockets-and leave the cafe, and you couldn’t help the appreciative gaze as your eyes roamed the backside of the man who stopped dead in his tracks and stared at you for an agonizingly small amount of time. Whom you had caught staring at you minutes ago. His gaze, through red lenses, overwhelmed you, a vehement aura exuding and reaching.
He was statuesque, a gargoyle in the flesh wrapped in the darkness of his fabrics, sitting at the small metal table against the bright paints of the Paris mural. You certainly appreciated the contrast. Auburn beard covered a strong jaw, but his face was mostly obscured by the black Everton cap and red lensed shades. The hoodie did little to conceal the firm bulk of his arms, broad shoulders. When he broke eye contact to read his book, shades went to his hat, but angled his face to further obscure your view. A shiver chilled you. Why was he hiding? But you didn’t let your attention linger, though you did want to. You wanted to watch him read, and immerse himself in whatever tale he was venturing through.  
In. Out. In. Out.
The mantra on loop to keep his thoughts focused. Singular. Not focused on red lips pressed against his neck. Teeth grazing a path over a protruding vein. So he ran faster. Faster. Faster, until all he could think about was how to get enough oxygen to his lungs, Lamb of God blasting through his headphones. The opening notes of Walk with Me In Hell leading him through the end of his run. Spent. Overexerted. Exactly what he needed. He’d finally sleep, and just not fucking care what happened next.
Simon released a breath he had not realized he was holding until it left him. Disappointed relief. The tea shop siren was absent from his visit. It was strange. The wanton desire to be in the presence of another being. He was used to alone. It was easier to work when you didn’t have the reminder of how many lives were in your hands. It was effective, and he was damn good at it. You had his mind in a whirlwind of confusion. Not even the women he's fucked stayed with him the way you have. You've never even said a damn word to him, and he was crumbling. Under a spell you were unaware you cast. Synthesizing his dreams to your every whim.
“Fucking Christ.” A soft growl met his ears, eyes slid toward the culprit. And there you were, just as gorgeous and warm without the infrared glow of the burning star above. Even with the snarl across your painted lips, coffee spilled in front of you as you picked up the few items you dropped. The espresso color accentuated the shape of your plush lips, and he wanted to know what the supple flesh felt like between his teeth, tongue sliding in sync with yours. And fucking hell he’s heard your voice, further fueling his mind. Simon’s base instincts were bleeding through more than he would care to admit. Like some horny school boy seeing tits for the first time. He didn’t care for it, wanted it gone. Made him feel compromised. It was consuming him in a time he couldn’t afford distractions. When could he ever?
Your morning started out shit, and seemed to become progressively shittier. You had an assignment due by midnight. The internet at your place was out, and the company had been very little help with an ETA. It had been your day off, but Deana was out with some virus her kid picked up from school and you were the lucky winner to be on rotation that week for the store. All you wanted was the comfort and warmth of a white chocolate mocha, and now that was also ruined as the caffeinated beverage seeped into the porous concrete of the patio. 
You had been set and determined to complete your assignment covering the impact commercial farming has had on the environment and global economics. Then, you saw him. Shades sat atop his same hat, the once full beard had been trimmed, hugging the shapely jaw. You liked it, so much so that you stumbled on a table, coffee slipping from your hands.
You wanted to scream, cry, kick the chair, but instead you blinked back the tears and picked the empty cup from the puddle of cream, sugar and caffeine. Feeling like a bloody idiot for being that damn distracted by a bloke you’ve not actually seen yet. If he walked around without the hate and sunnies, you’d most likely not realize it was him. But hell if the mystery wasn’t all the more enticing.
 You sighed, paying no more mind to the gargantuan on your left-dizzy from the distractions- and set your workstation. Three hours. That’s all you had before your shift at the shop.
You sat with one earbud playing music as you began cycling through your notes finding topic points and sub plots for your outline. The angelic voice of Florence Welsh guiding you through the motions of the ebb and flow of your homework routine. And deep in your concentration and will to see this task complete, you did not notice a dark figure leaving its perch. 
“Excuse me?” you looked to see one of the younger baristas standing with a coffee. “Uh…some dude ordered this for you, and wanted me to bring it out to you?” 
You quirked a brow taking the drink from the nervous kid and thanked them. When they skittered back into the building you took a look around seeing Paris missing one of its Gargoyles of Notre Dame.  A jolt of excitement warmed you when the sweet velvet flow of the caffeine hit your tongue. A perfect coffee to lift your spirits from a perfect stranger.
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bullfinch-lover · 20 days
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MY CUSTOM MADE SPRIGGAN DOLL ARRIVED IN THE MAIL TODAY AND I LOVE IT!!!!!!!! I WILL CHERISH HIM FOREVER!!!!!!😭😭😭😭😭💖💕💖💕💖💕💖💕💖💕💖💕💖💕💖💕💖💕💖💕💖💕💖💕💖💕💖💕💖
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To clarify: I'm asking which category do a majority of your self ships fall under!
Just something I'm a little curious about, so I added a few categories that I've seen most often. Reblogs would be appreciated! \(. . )
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strongermonster · 1 year
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my household got one of the randomly assigned transportation surveys and this is a minor thing to be :) about but with all The Other Shit going on in the world, it's nice to see the ontario government not only keeping this up, but having really good phrasing :')
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roboraindrop · 8 months
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I get irl married one month from today and I'm low-key freaking out about it /pos
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nouies · 2 years
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— reckless behaviour —
written by nouies for the @bottomlouisficfest louis/harry | explicit | 13k
Harry is a retired football player looking for a new opportunity. Louis is the image consultant hired to help him find it.
art by the talented @half-lightl​ read on ao3 | fic tag
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synfell · 11 months
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modified a GIF to only include dio frames
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sorry for being obsessed with him 🙄
original gif link
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rattyshipss · 7 months
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People do f/o takeovers a lot in November right? Like that's a thing?
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im-poe-dameron · 1 year
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CHAPTER ELEVEN
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a/n: so......it hasn't been that long since chapter ten has it? i swear i meant to pop the last four chapters out before my last semester ended. But between the chaos in my life growing each month, and my last year of college I kind of forgot about this story altogether. To be entirely honest i didn't intend on finishing it. Except here I am now on winter break and ready to finish! I swear. I won't vanish again. I have plotted out the remainder of this story and am writing chapter twelve as i post this. So the story will have an end. I swear.
I just want to say a big ass fucking THANK YOU to those who left comments on the last chapter. I literally have so many of them screenshotted and saved on my phone to re-read on bad days and that's why I'm finishing this fic. Cause i love you guys.
Also a massive thank you to @apascalrascal who beta read this chapter and to @caesaryoulater who also read it through and told me she loved it. And a special thanks to @themarcusmoreno who continues to be my enabler for everything and anything. This series included. I couldn't have done it without you guys. I think that's it! So without further ado, please enjoy this tension filled chapter of a dinner with friends.
summary: "come to dinner" poe said, "it'll be great" poe said. what a fucking liar.
word count: 10.3k+
pairing: 1980s!din djarin x fem!reader
warnings: slightly explicit (we'll get there guys), cussing, angst, fluff, lots of apologies, alcohol consumption, dry humping, poe dameron losing his will to live, poe dameron's sanity being tested, sexual tension, yelling, and some horrible attempts at comedy.
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You knew he was there before even fully waking up. The warmth of his arm was pressed into your waist, his breath hitting the back of your neck and causing the hair to stand up. At one point in the night the covers had been pushed down to the end of the bed—his body being the one thing that kept you warm. Yup…you knew he was there alright. So, why didn’t you get up? Why did you burrow further into his hold—smiling slightly as he pulled you closer, his nose pressing into your hair?
There was a term used for this kind of behavior and while you’d call it self inflicted torture, someone like Liv would have used something much stronger. It’s not like you didn’t want this. You did. Fuck, you wanted more than this. But the memories from last night were still fresh in your mind, playing on a twisted loop to remind you of what he did.
What you chose.
Except you could still feel the pressure of his lips against yours, the way he’d made your head spin…just like before. You wished you could simply forget. Yes, that would make things easier—in fact it would make you feel better. You would be able to look over everything he said to you, all the pain you were put through only to come to one conclusion. Living a life without Din Djarin, was not a life you wanted. Shit, it didn’t even seem like a life you could have. So, why couldn’t you forget?
The real reason was…you knew why. You were just too fucking afraid to say it out loud.
“I can hear you thinking,” he mumbled—the sound of his voice scaring you out of your worried state.
“How long have you been awake?”
A puff of air hit your neck, his raspy chuckle following it. “Long enough to know you’re panicking.”
“I’m not…panicking.” That was a lie—you were absolutely panicking.
Between his bar being turned into literal ash, his wounded state, and the fact that you had yet to discuss what you were, you felt as if your brain was halfway through running a 5k and you were barely at the starting line. What you really needed was time to breathe. Except the thought of leaving him again splintered what was left of your already broken heart. You were connected to him—beyond what the both of you could comprehend and that’s why you stayed.
You wanted to be there.
Turning, you kept your eyes shut until you felt his arm settle back over your waist. If you didn’t look at him maybe things would be better. Maybe you wouldn’t feel like your entire world was shattered and put back together in only a manner of weeks. Maybe…you’d figure out how to finally let him back in. They were all things you had trouble with—aspects of your life you wished you could forget about. Only you couldn’t. Letting Din back in meant forgiving everything that happened and for the life of you…you couldn’t do it. You didn’t know why.
“Are you going to open your eyes for me sweetheart?”
No. The word rang in your head like an alarm bell, because you knew what would happen if you opened your eyes. You’d fall in love with him again and it would be easier than breathing; a fact that both excited you and left a thrill of fear streaking down your spine. You were terrified of letting him in again—terrified of what he’d do.
“I want to,” you whispered, eyes still squeezed shut as he ran a finger down your cheek, making you shiver. “Fuck I want you.”
“You have me.”
You felt like you were going to cry the longer you lay there wallowing in your own pain, but you needed this. More than he did. He dealt with his own pain by leaving and it took you until now to realize you never truly dealt with yours. You only shoved it to the side in the hopes that it would one day disappear like everything else you harbored. All the grief William put you through somehow amounted to all the pain Din put you through. Until one day…it combined and you could no longer discern who broke what piece of your heart.
“Do I?”
His hand cupped your cheek, tilting your head back until his nose was brushed against yours. “Sweetheart I’m yours till the day I die.”
Scoffing, you felt a tear fall down your cheek towards your nose. He caught it in time. “You shouldn’t joke about something that literally almost happened.”
“Too soon?”
You shoved his shoulder. “You think Romeo?”
“Fuck…I missed that,” he breathed, pressing his nose against your cheek, lips brushing against yours.
“I thought you hated that?” It was maddening to be so close to what you wanted, centimeters apart, and still so far away—lost to the labyrinth of your mind.
“I don’t care what you call me sweetheart. As long as it’s you who’s calling me it.”
There it was. The truth that had yet to be fully untangled from the web of your messy pasts and feelings. You’d love him through all of this; through all of the pain, because he would do the same. He’d love you until the stars died in the sky, until you were buried beneath the ground side by side—just as it was always meant to go. Fate had a funny way of twisting two people together and you were fucking glad it chose Din Djarin to be that person.
“Din,” you whispered, finally opening your eyes and meeting the brown eyes you couldn’t forget even if you tried. “Kiss me.”
The words were barely audible, a mere brush of air across his chin, but you knew he heard them as if they were shouted in his ear. Closing the gap, he pressed his lips against yours in a messy but overdue kiss. Last night didn’t count. Not when you were both in shock from what happened. No, this…this right here is what you’d call your reunion—a choice you both made in the early morning hours of the day.
You moaned softly into his mouth as his tongue slid against yours, hand digging into his hair to keep him close while his went to your hip. If there’s one conclusion you could come to after all of this it was this. Din Djarin kissed like he was running out of time. He devoured you like you’d be gone in a few seconds, forever lost to the ravages of time and knowing your reputation of the past month…he had good reason to. While he still tasted the same, you felt the difference in his hold and really everything about him.
This wasn’t him kissing you because you asked him.
This was him apologizing one more time, because when it came to Din…he’d never be able to say sorry enough times to feel okay with what his past amounted to.
So, you took all the pain and reflected it back to him. You moaned into the kiss—proving to him that this, him, is what you wanted. There wouldn’t be another choice for you; that much you were entirely sure of. His arm circled, your waist, tugging you closer and rolling onto his back dragging you with him. You still kissed him; still leaned further into his touch and licked fervently into his mouth. He shuddered as your nails dug into the nape of his neck; his hips bucking up into yours, bringing a smile to your lips.
“Eager,” you teased.
He pulled back, mouth opening to shoot back what would no doubt be an eviscerating comment, but all that came out was a deep broken groan. His head falling back into the pillow as you dropped your hips fully onto his—grinding your cunt along his clothed cock. Sex was off the table. The both of you knew this. But riling Din up drew a different kind of pleasure to your body, until you felt like you were floating as you watched him lose his mind.
“Fuck,” he rasped, eyes opening to reveal his once brown eyes now turned dark. “You’re going to kill me sweetheart.”
You shook your head, dragging your hips forward and gasping at the pressure. “Not exactly—oh—”
His hands splayed on your hips, guiding your movements as if you were actually riding him. If you imagined hard enough you could remember what it felt like to have him inside you—the stretch of him filling you completely until you were gasping for breath. Part of you wanted to have it back, beg him to fuck you into the mattress like he used to. But last night still happened and you weren’t so keen to forget about it. So, with a stuttered jolt of your hips, you stopped, shifting forward to kiss him languidly instead.
A soft moan was swallowed by him, his hand coming up to clutch the back of your neck gently—kissing you back. Only with him every kiss felt just as filthy as fucking him did. What started off slow and sweet became a mixture of spit, teeth, and tongues licking hotly into each other’s mouths, driving one another insane. You were shaking as he ran his hands down your back, the warmth of his palms seeping into your t-shirt covered skin. Fuck, you wanted more than just kissing him. You wanted all of it. The romance, the love, the sex.
You wanted him.
Except the tiny—almost minuscule—amount of doubt continued to ring in the back of your head.
The door to your bedroom opened swiftly and you jolted back, nipping sharply at his bottom lip enough to draw a small amount of blood.
“Breakfast is ready if you two are done fucking,” Liv said rushing down the hall before the pillow you threw could actually hit her in the face.
Din fell back onto the bed, his hands still on your hips as you remained on his lap. If you could locate your camera, you’d take a picture of this sight—placing it right beside the polaroid of him in the record shop. But after your breakup you gave it to Poe to keep, making sure that you didn’t have it around to break when you broke down again. The sunlight broke through your half opened curtains, casting a glow along his face, causing him to look ethereal. It was a wonder he truly didn’t see what you did—always shying away from the compliments you gave him.
“Are you hungry?” you asked, shifting to clamber—rather ungracefully—off his lap.
You didn’t catch the way his eyes opened, taking in your half bare form, his erection still pressing painfully along the tight confines of his jeans. “Yeah,” he murmured, the taste of you mixed with copper still stuck on his tongue.
“Liv makes some good pancakes.” You grabbed your own jeans, shoving them on to look at least semi-presentable.
When in reality you would much rather lock the door and ride your ex-boyfriend until he couldn’t think straight. Shaking your head you attempted to rid yourself of those thoughts. Liv would see them a mile away and you refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing you were so in love it hurt. You willed away the spark of heat that began to stir in your stomach that only seemed to grow the longer he stared at you from where he was sitting—half naked with dark eyes that kept you frozen in place. He looked at you like you were the most beautiful version of yourself. When merely you were sporting a messy look as you fought against the arousal burning low.
None of that mattered to him though.
You’d known that the second you finally set your heart on letting him in. He only wanted you—in whatever form you took, whatever way you looked—he would take it in a heartbeat.
“Stop looking at me like that,” you said, glancing away as he stood to his full height, moving forward to cup your chin. “It’s distracting.”
“Good,” he replied.
A swift kiss was pressed to your lips; a broken sound leaving your throat as he cemented the arousal in your mind—reminded you of what it felt like in the early days of being with him. It was hard to believe so much time had passed between the two of you. When in reality it felt like years had gone by in a blink of an eye. Leaning forward you pressed against his bare chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms as he continued to kiss you slowly…deeply.
“We have to…” Your eyes fluttered open to see him sporting a small smile on his face.
“Breakfast?”
“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes we have to do that.”
“C’mon sweetheart.” He slipped his singed shirt back on, his eyes glancing at the burned spot on the corner of it.
You knew it would take time to recover from what happened for the both of you. His bar was his home; the one place he felt completely safe, and now it was gone in the blink of an eye. Going back to it would be a difficult feat in itself. One you’d done before him, and one you’d be glad to help him in accomplishing.
The kitchen smelled like pancakes and coffee; the scent filling your nose when you walked out. Liv was pouring a cup of coffee as surprisingly Poe cooked eggs with Finn watching over his shoulder—most likely to make sure he didn’t burn them. You hadn’t expected them to show up here, but knowing the debacle from last night, they probably had nowhere else to go. The door swung open, Paz traipsing in behind the woman you recognized as his girlfriend. He carried a grocery bag overflowing with food, her hands holding onto a different paper bag.
“Djarin!” he exclaimed, dropping the groceries unceremoniously on the counter, not bothering to see if they stayed upright. “We stopped by the bar.”
Just the mere mention of it caused Din to sit up a little straighter from where he was at the table, a cup of black coffee in front of him. “The damage?”
“Extreme.” Paz snatched a pancake off the plate in front of Liv. “The bottom half is burned to a crisp, but we managed to carefully get inside and your apartment didn’t take the brunt of the damage.”
“So all his stuff is still there?” you asked. If his place wasn’t burned entirely that means he still had his belongings, at least half of a home. You figured that was ten times better than no home at all.
The woman nodded. “Well…for the most part. The kitchen took the majority of the damage.”
“I can live with that,” Din said, glancing at you.
“This is Thyra by the way,” Paz replied, gesturing at her. “She’s been a part of us since the beginning.”
All the times you’d been to the bar and seen there, you couldn’t believe you’d never officially met her before. She was beautiful, standing tall in her heeled boots and long dark hair that draped over her shoulder in a braid. The symbol on her leather jacket was one you’d seen before; the sign of a Mandalorian—or at least that’s what Din told you before everything happened. Smiling, you stuck out your hand. If she was a part of the family that Din made for himself then you would welcome her with open arms.
“I’ve seen you before at the bar,” you said.
She nodded, her dark eyes practically sparkling. “It’s nice to finally meet you…sweetheart.”
Heat spread up your neck and into your cheeks, the hot coffee not helping even as you sipped at it. Had Din introduced you that way to everyone? Or was that merely the name they heard the most when it came to you? Her smile told you it was the latter, but her eyes told you something else and you weren’t sure what to believe. You felt his arm snake around your waist, the weight of it pressing lightly into your stomach as he pulled you closer to where he was sitting. Just that movement alone calmed the slight embarrassment that filled your veins. However, it did nothing to cease the racing of your heart. Thyra’s eyes flicked to him, a smile stretching across her lips as she no doubt teased him as well.
“Do me a favor,” she said, pointing her words at Din. “Don’t fuck it up or'dinii.”
Paz snorted. “You can’t expect that Thyra. Kaysh mirsh solus.”
“Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod?” Din retorted, his eyes narrowing.
You’d never heard him speak his language other than the few words he let slip here and there, but now it seemed he was more open in letting those he cared about see this side of him. A part that only his family saw. You wondered if this officially made you his family now, and that thought alone made your lips twist upwards into a small grin. Paz roared with laughter, his own retort missing you completely as he tried to rile Din up enough to fully go through with his words. Except you had no clue what they were saying.
“What does that mean?” you asked softly, bringing his gaze back to you.
He shook his head, turning so you stood between his spread legs. “He called me an idiot.”
Your eyebrows raised. “And what exactly did you say?”
“An old phrase.”
“Which is…”
Thyra was the one to answer your question as she took a seat, a plate of pancakes in her hand. “Basically saying: are you looking for a smack in the face.”
“All in good nature,” Paz said.
“No fighting in my kitchen please,” Liv finally spoke up, her expression still in disbelief at the sight of several bikers taking up space in the already small apartment.
Poe and Finn were having their own conversation, leaning against the counter as they ate—unfazed by the talk of Mandalorians in front of them. This is what you missed. Sure, you ached to be back in the bar—back behind the counter—but this…the gathering of friends and family was what you missed the most. It seemed that even without the bar you could make yourselves at home anywhere; only needing one another to make that new place your new home.
The smile on your face widened, a sigh leaving your body as Din nudged you slightly to bring your attention back to him. It didn’t take him long to see it. The contentment in your stance, the joy in your eyes, and his own lips were turning up slightly. The sight of you happy enough to elicit that same emotion from him. You had him with you again. Him and all that came with him and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
“I missed this,” you said quietly enough for only Din to hear you.
“I missed you,” he replied, his hands pressing into your lower back.
Yeah…this just the way it is was perfect.
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An hour later and you were helping Liv with the dishes as Din went through the bag Thyra brought from his apartment. Some clothes that didn’t take any damage, two extra pairs of boots, and what looked like a few picture frames that were hung up in the bar awhile ago. He must have moved them to his apartment before everything happened and you were about to ask him why when the door burst open again. Paz and Thyra had gone back to the bar to see what else they could salvage, leaving Poe and Finn to head back to their places.
Only to wind up back here.
Poe led in Finn, Rey, and Elora. He held a box in his hands, which he dropped by the couch beside Din.
“All the stuff you left at my place,” he said, snatching whatever was on the top before heading towards you. “And this.”
You smiled at the sight of the camera. “You took care of it.”
“Like you asked me to,” he replied. “I figured you’d want it back to take some more pictures.”
One look at Din searching through the box and you knew that you could take a million pictures of him, but it would never be enough to finally sear him into your mind. You weren’t even sure what it would take. But that wouldn’t stop you from trying—from capturing him on polaroid after polaroid, because now…you finally could. As if he could sense the way your eyes burned into his skin, he glanced up, his lips pulling up into a small grin. That apparently was enough to send your heart fluttering madly in your chest like a flurry of butterflies was passing through you.
“Thank you,” you said softly, pulling Poe into a hug. “I don’t know what I can do to repay you for how you’ve looked out for me after…everything.”
He shrugged. “You don’t have to pay me.”
“I feel like I should, given all the emotional distress.”
He’d been there from the start; watched you and Din grow as a couple only to see it fall to pieces. You and Din inadvertently tore apart a family that relied on the two of you to be together—a family you now called your own. Things still had to be resolved between the two of you; emotions had to be cleared and you knew it wouldn’t be the last time Din and you fought. But the heartbreak would be different then. All of it would be different, because you knew deep down that one way or another you’d find your way back to one another.
Just as the stars intended.
“Elora and I are hosting a dinner tonight,” Rey said. “Nothing big, but we’d like you and Din to come.”
You smiled, feeling another layer of anguish lift from your heart. “We’re there,” you replied. It may take some convincing to get Din there—only even you knew he would never truly say no to you. He never had before.
“It’s at Poe’s place.”
“Unfortunately,” he grumbled, reaching for the plate of cookies Elora had brought. “I don’t know why you couldn’t do it at your place.”
Elora came up behind Rey, resting her chin on her shoulder. “You’re the one with the bigger apartment flyboy.”
“That’s not my fault.”
Elora smiled. “Oh so it’s not your fault you only got it cause the previous tenant had a crush on you?”
“Technically happened before I even moved here.”
“Still counts.”
“You can’t blame me for being pretty sunflower.”
 She rolled her eyes, wrapping her arms loosely around Rey’s waist. “I’m not, because you are not the prettiest sunflower here.”
You  couldn’t stop the giggle from leaving your mouth, the moment of playful irritation between them now lost. You wondered when they met, how they met—all of them—in order to become the way they were now. Sure, they were friends. Anybody could see that. Except there was something between them—something you couldn’t quite discern—that made them family. An unbreakable bond that had been tested again and again only to finally realize at the end of the day that it couldn’t be broken; no matter how hard someone tried to destroy it.
“What time?” you asked.
“7:30,” Elora responded. “We’re cooking and for the recipe I’ve got planned it’s going to take some time.”
“Well if it’s anything like your cookies, it’s going to be delicious.” You couldn’t lie. If no one (including Din) were here, you’d have demolished those cookies in a fucking heartbeat and you could see by the look in her eyes—she knew it.
The conversation continued; their arguments never ceasing and you turned, catching Din’s eye as he shuffled through the box. A picture frame of him and his son sat on his lap—the smile on his face similar to that of Din from the past. You remembered the first time you saw him smile—truly smile—and the sight never left your mind. It stuck to you like glue, tattooing itself onto your skin, because even though he refused to believe it, Din Djarin was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. You knew it the moment you walked into the bar and saw him for the first time and you absolutely knew it now.
Heading over to him, you plopped down onto the couch, leaning your head against his shoulder as he rested his chin against your head. It was comfortable having him here in your home like this. Merely sitting beside one another. Sure, the tension still remained and you were eighty percent certain that if no one was here you’d be riding him on the couch, but just doing this was nice too. In fact…you enjoyed it more. He didn’t say anything. You didn’t say anything. And all finally felt right in the world.
Sighing softly, you shut your eyes for a few brief moments, listening to the conversation in the apartment. It all sounded eerily similar to the bar and if you focused hard enough you may be able to smell the familiar scent of liquor, motor oil, and cigarettes. Fuck, you missed his place. You yearned to be back there, serving drinks and catching his gaze across the room as he stood behind the bartop. Eventually everything would end up back there—back where it all began—but now you were simply content to be here.
His fingers trailed along the back of your hand, twinging with your own as the cold press of his rings caused a shiver to go down your spine.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb along yours. “For everything.”
You didn’t have to stop yourself from smiling this time. “Careful Romeo. You keep apologizing and I won’t be able to get mad at you the next time we fight.”
He huffed, pressing his lips to your temple as they curved upwards. “That’s the idea sweetheart.”
“Yeah right.” Part of you knew the words you said were right. Except you could still feel the slight sting as a certain memory came back to your mind; forcing you to relive what should have been forgotten by now.
After all, he finally said it. He said he loved you. So why wasn’t that enough? Why were you still wracked with pain every time you wanted to finally give in and love him just as freely as you’d done before? Why…after all this time…were you terrified of being broken again? You knew he wasn’t William—far from it—but that didn’t stop the emotions from rising to the surface. Twisting your heart painfully in your chest as you contemplated what loving him again actually meant to the both of you.
“We’re going to dinner at Poe’s place tonight by the way.”
He shifted back, brown eyes meeting yours and as always your heart fluttered in your chest. “I don’t feel like—”
Pulling him down, you cut him off with a kiss. The conversations ceased to exist, the problems came to a stop, because it was just you and him in your little bubble. He sighed into your mouth, cupping the back of your neck and sliding his tongue along your bottom lip. Things couldn’t go further than this, you knew that, but it still felt euphoric to feel his lips against yours. To kiss him until the air rushed out your lungs and the taste of him was seared on your tongue.
“It wasn’t a question Romeo,” you breathed, slightly dizzy as he pulled away. Your eyes fluttered open and you swore you saw the brown of his pupils grow darker—lust clouding his expression.
“What time do we go?” he asked, relenting swiftly as his eyes zeroed in on you sucking your bottom lip into your mouth.
“7:30.”
He nodded, glancing at the old clock you’d bought at a thrift store in Massachusetts. The both of you had three hours to kill with nothing to do. Showing up to a friend’s dinner empty handed always turned out to be a bad idea in your opinion and it’s not like you could simply grab a bottle from the bar and bring it with you. The cooking abilities you had were limited to breakfast and possibly a nice one serving dinner.
“What’s going on in there?” He tapped your temple lightly, dragging your attention back to him.
While you had grown to read him like a book, he’d always been able to flip through the pages that made up who you were. You felt the faint beginnings of a smile form on your lips as you leaned back against him, your thoughts still spinning with what was happening. Everything occurred so fast you could barely keep up. Shit, you could barely keep up regardless, but with the fire and the feelings—you were trying to keep your head above water while navigating in the dark. You wondered if he could see that. Or if he even felt the same way.
“How’s your cooking skills Romeo?”
“Barely there.” Bringing your hand up to his mouth, he brushed his lips along your wrist. “Should I ask why?”
“It’s rude not to bring food when you’re invited somewhere.”
He chuckled, the sound burrowing deep in your chest, spreading towards the molten heat in your stomach. The control you had on yourself was wavering by the second and he wasn’t helping you in the slightest. Still…you didn’t pull your hand away. You let him press featherlight kisses to your wrist, down your forearm until he reached the juncture of your elbow and worked his way back. It felt nice—as if he was attempting to calm the thoughts in your mind without words.
When it came to Romeo, actions were his go to.
“I don’t think that applies to us, sweetheart.”
“Well it would be nice regardless,” you huffed.
Glancing at him you saw his eyebrows raise. “And who’s going to cook it?”
“I could—”
“No.”
“My cooking is not that bad.”
Another kiss was pressed to your wrist; this one firm. “I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it.”
He breathed out a laugh that was barely audible. “I did.”
“Djarin I swear—”
His teeth nipping sharply at your skin cut you off as you winced. “Don’t call me that.” He had shifted until his lips were pressed against your ear; the warmth of his breath caressing your cheek.
“Call you what?” You weren’t an idiot. You knew he heard the slight waver in your voice and you also knew…he liked it.
“Djarin,” he replied slowly. The bite in his tone wasn’t meant or even meant to scare you; it was rather to prove that he knew how your insides twisted at the sound and how your walls clenched around nothing. He was toying with you just as he had done before. “Everyone else calls me Djarin. You don’t.”
You smirked, tilting your head until his lips brushed against your cheek. “And here I thought you hated the name Romeo.”
“I never said that sweetheart.” If you moved another inch, his lips would be on yours again, and you never longed for something so much. “I’ll happily let you call me that.” He turned your head for you, the heat of his gaze digging into yours. “As long as you say Din when you scream.”
They were words whispered against your lips; barely audible to even you, but you heard them nonetheless. He was truly trying to fuck with you. Your eyes widened as the words settled into your mind—flashes of that very thing happening over and over again playing through your head. If he looked closely enough, he’d be able to see you reliving each one, and by the slight grin on his face…he knew. You opened your mouth, hoping to come up with a retort hot enough to have him squirming, but he’d officially done it. He’d fried your brain past the point of words let alone coherent thoughts.
“See you tonight lovebirds,” Elora’s voice broke the spell Din had you in, giving you a chance to gather yourself.
Din stood up before you were able to say anything back, saying a polite goodbye to Elora and heading to the kitchen. Still you remained on the couch, his words echoing in your mind as he went through your fridge. Really there was nothing in it—the thought of grocery shopping was further from your mind than it should have been. You could count on one hand what you bought this week and none of it could be used to cook anything.
“What do I cook?” you asked, walking into the kitchen to see him shut the door on a sparse fridge.
“Nothing.”
“Look I can—” Him grabbing his jacket and the keys to his car cut you off. “Leaving me already Romeo?”
The phrase was meant to be harmless—a joke, but seeing him tense, his hand clutching at his keys, made you want to take it back. Fuck. Things were still on edge between the two of you and while he’d apologized through the night, more times than you could count, that didn’t stop the restlessness in your body. It didn’t cease the ache in your chest that refused to fade.
“Bad choice of words,” you said, starting to ramble. “I’m sorry I should have said can I come with you…” Why the fuck were you still talking? He must have known it was a joke…right? He turned around as you apologized for the second time, his eyes bright and yet twisted with a grief he couldn’t yet share with you.
“Sweetheart.” You clamped your mouth shut. “I love you.”
Those words…they would never cease to make your heart flutter, to make you heat up from head to toe until you were sure you’d melt onto the floor.
Smiling, you felt the worries lift off your chest, giving you a chance to breathe again. “I love you too Romeo.”
He stepped forward, gripping your chin lightly and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before backing away towards the door. You didn’t ask him where he was going, didn’t need to, because he’d come back eventually. So, you busied yourself with cleaning up the kitchen—hoping it would throw off your mind from flooding with every manner of filthy thoughts. All of them with Din as the star of the show.
Sure, the words were carved into your skin like a wound that was taking it’s fucking time healing, but that didn’t stop you from wanting him. Only…wanting him is what got you into this mess. You two rushed into a relationship of sorts faster than you should have and before you got to know one another. Now you were doing things the right way. Which continually left you feeling like you’d combust if he looked at you too long.
“Fuck,” you muttered, nearly slicing your finger open on the soapy butter knife. “I need to get laid.”
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“Where did you get this?” you asked, eyeing the wooden box that sat in the middle of your living room.
Din walked in an hour after you finished the dishes, carrying a box that looked eerily similar to the ones you used to see at the bar. Only the bar and all the alcohol that remained was burned. Which left you wondering who he paid off to get him this stuff. He cracked it open, pulling out a bottle of whiskey that was immediately familiar to you. The same one that sat empty on the shelf in your bedroom—now a piece of decor—the very same one that still held those charred bills the both of you refused to touch.
“Supplier,” he replied. “He owed me a favor.”
You nodded, knowing it was better not to question his methods. “Tell him thank you from me.”
Handing off the bottle to you, he watched as you placed it on the bookshelf near the television. Right beside a framed picture of you and him that Liv sneaked one night when she visited the bar for the first time. It was two months ago and even in the image you could see how much Din cared for you. The glint in his eye transferred to the glossy paper. You were standing behind the bar, a bottle in your hand as you poured gin into a glass; he leaned next to you, watching you with a smile on his face. You didn’t see her take the picture, never even saw the flash go off, but you thanked her for it every time you glanced in its direction.
“How many bottles are we taking?”
He lifted two out of the crate, setting it down next to the brownies you managed not to burn. “Think that will be enough?”
The way your friends drank, the two bottles would be gone before dinner was even served. Still you nodded, heading towards the bedroom to throw on the sundress you laid out earlier. The weather was becoming warm again; the cold was now vanishing slowly and while you were going to miss it—that didn’t deter you from wearing the oversized leather jacket that was thrown on the chair.
“Thankfully Rey and Elora are cooking,” you called, trying not to trip as you attempted to latch the platform sandals closed. “Poe’s good at making drinks, but I’ve seen him cook and I can definitely say I am bett…”
You trailed off as you walked back to where Din stood, catching the heady look in his eyes. They trailed down your body past the skirt of your dress all the way down to your feet, dragging upwards just as slowly. All the time you spent shoving down the burning heat that built up in your stomach vanished. It rushed through your veins, turning your skin warm as he simply watched you. Before everything, before the pain, he would have simply stated you weren’t going, taking you to bed without any complaints. But now…he waited, held his stance and breathed heavily as his gaze settled on yours.
He knew you weren’t ready for that and this was him respecting that wish. He wouldn’t touch you. Not until you were absolutely sure about him again; until you could finally open your heart to him.
For some unknown fucking reason, that made you want him even more.
Fuck your hormones. They waged a war within your body—turning you into a wilting mess even though he had yet to lay a finger on you.
“Do you like the dress?” you asked.
He grunted in response, turning back to the box, his hands clenching as you walked past him.
Poe’s place was thankfully not far from your own apartment. In a way, you were thankful for the short amount of time you’d have to spend in Romeo’s car, alone with him. You figured it was better that you keep your distance from each other, given how your reputation for holding off on jumping one another was all but disappointing. The next two weeks would be ruthless. What with you helping Liv with the last minute details of the wedding. Thankfully it would keep you busy.
You had yet to confront that one nagging question in the back of your mind. One you were truthfully terrified to even go near, because the answer would determine how you’d feel the next few weeks.
The silence felt comfortable with him—the radio playing the latest songs and the windows rolled down as he took the streets to Poe’s place. People milled about on the streets outside. The city night life came back as the sun dipped beneath the skyline of buildings. You could recall being a part of this crowd, of bar hopping night after night; a time when you were the most lost with no way of finding yourself home. Somehow in the end it brought you to him; stuck you in the center of something beautiful and told you to remain where you were.
It didn’t take you long to figure out that that’s where you belonged in the first place.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asked softly. The question was asked more frequently since he’d come back into your life—as if he was terrified of what your answer would be.
Ironic.
You were scared shitless of his own answer.
“I keep thinking…”
You noticed him stiffen in his seat, his left hand tightening on the wheel slightly until his knuckles turned white. He promised he wouldn’t lie to you, wouldn’t keep any secrets from you, and this was one of them. It’s not like he was trying hard to hide it. For the first time, Din was fucking terrified of what you’d say, and somehow it felt nice to come to that realization. Proof that you weren’t entirely alone in this situation.
“Nothing bad I hope,” he said, forcing a smile. But you saw the trepidation in his eyes, the waver in his voice.
He was worried you’d leave again.
That made your heart clench in your chest.
“Liv’s wedding is in two weeks,” you replied, keeping your eyes solely on his, finally reading his reactions as clearly as he read yours. 
He’d given you an insight into his mind, told you all his fears, his past, and somehow that opened him up to you in a whole new way. Before, you struggled to even figure out what he was thinking, but now…you knew. You could see it so clearly on his face he didn’t even bother to school his expressions anymore.
“I saw your calendar.” Ah, the one that was hanging up on your wall—Liv’s wedding date marked with a big red circle. “Are you worried about it?”
You shook your head. “I’m actually really excited. It’s been a long time coming and I know that she’s ready to finally get married. But I was thinking…” He sucked in a breath, the leather steering wheel crackling under his grip. You only had a small amount of time to get this question out in the open before heading up to Poe’s for dinner. “I was actually hoping…”
“Sweetheart you’re killing me here,” he groaned, eyes flashing with agony.
A smile crossed your lips as you leaned in closer. “Would you still like to be my date?”
The car fell silent, his eyes turning back to the road as he pulled up to Poe’s apartment building. Your heart lurched in your chest, fear filling your veins as you realized you might have made a mistake. Fuck, you knew you should have waited. All of it was too soon; that damn question was too soon and you let out a shaky breath, turning your head away from him as you blinked quickly to get rid of the oncoming tears. 
Please put me out of my misery Romeo, you thought in your head, desperate for him to say something—anything.
“Do you still want me as your date?” he asked.
Your head snapped back to his direction and you finally took in the utter defeat on his face. The pain in his eyes that he pushed away constantly, but you still saw it under the surface—saw how he fought against it. He hadn’t admitted it yet, but you saw it there in his face, heard it in his words loud and clear. He was afraid you still didn’t want him—that one day you’d wake up ready to run out the door and leave him behind.
“Of course I do,” you whispered. “Do you still want to…be with me?”
The question was a double edged sword and you were both dangerously walking on either side, trying to keep it balanced for the first time in a long time.
Did he want you beyond the heartbreak? Did he want to push past what you went through and find your equilibrium again—find the place you called home in this relationship.
His face fell as he took in your eyes glossy with unshed tears. “I want to be with you until the day I stop breathing sweetheart.”
“Oh—”
But he wasn’t done. Far from it.
Leaning closer, he cupped your face, twisting in his seat to finally bring his lips close to yours. “Yes I want to be your date to Liv’s wedding. Nothing would have stopped me from going. And yes…I want to be with you in any way you choose to have me. I’m yours baby. Till the end.”
You felt as if the weight pressing down on your chest was suddenly lifted; air filling your lungs with so much air it stung on the way down. Either way you relished in it, because you finally got your answer. Din wanted to be with you. He wanted you. Rather than kiss you on the lips, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, sending a shiver down your spine. While the doubts from before began to fade the longer you were with him, you still knew that the both of you had a lot left to work through.
He still had a lot to tell you about who he was before he met you.
“Should we go get yelled at by Poe now?”
You laughed, nodding your head. “Yeah. I think we should.”
He opened his door after one more kiss to your forehead, and walked around to your side, swinging open your door and reaching for your hand. The both of you weren’t prepared for this dinner, but you didn’t really care. Not when Romeo’s hand fit perfectly in yours, his body pressing close to yours as he led you up the stairs of the building. You’d never actually been here before, but seeing how comfortable Din was with maneuvering through the halls, him being here before was in fact true.
The thought of him suffering through heartbreak here surrounded by people who actually cared about him made you feel even lighter.
He had a family that surrounded him—he just needed a good shake to make him realize that.
“This is him,” he said, stopping at a beige colored door with a gold number eight hanging on it.
You could faintly hear music coming from the inside, the echo of voices filtering through the obviously thin door. “No turning back Romeo.”
A grin pulled his lips upward. “Me? Never.”
“Yeah right.”
He leaned over nipping sharply at your ear and eliciting a yelp from you that was no doubt heard from inside. You were about halfway to shoving your fist into his shoulder when the door opened revealing Poe. Of course he had to catch you and Din in yet another slightly compromising position. Din’s lips were attached to your neck, your hand now pressing against his shoulder to steady yourself and you felt the heat creep up the back of your neck. For fucks sake you couldn’t catch a break.
“Please don’t taint my hallway,” Poe said, smirking at the sight of you trying to mask your obvious embarrassed expression.
“Shut up Dameron,” Din replied, his fingers trailing up your back.
Poe’s mouth dropped. “Listen if you’re going to be a dick I’m not even going to consider letting you back in—”
The door was pushed open even wider, revealing Elora in a stunning yellow floor length sundress. “Please. Come in. We just finished cooking.”
You ducked under Poe’s arm, leaving the two men to finish their standoff—the smell of delicious food calling your name. Placing one bottle of whiskey on the table, you took in Poe’s apartment. There was only one bedroom, a small enough kitchen, and a plant on the windowsill—the leaves slightly brown. Overall you’d say it was cozy. A home you could see Poe staying in for quite some time. 
Din came up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist, chin dropping to your shoulder as he placed the second bottle right beside yours.
“It’s a nice place,” you said softly, seeing the living room that consisted of a black couch, a green chair, and a multicolored rug.
He hummed in agreement. “Would you like to live in a place like this?”
Just like in the car, your heart stopped at his words. “I would…one day,” you replied slowly. You weren’t stupid. You knew what he was asking of you, and that caused your insides to melt until you were sure you were a puddle on the floor.
“Hey lovebirds,” Poe called from where he sat at the table in the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready.”
You pulled away, heading towards the chair beside Finn who greeted you with a hug and a promise to talk later. You and him hadn’t really interacted much with him working nonstop at the record shop, but you wanted to get to know him just as much as Poe. Would he like to go out and get some coffee one of these days? Maybe you could invite Rey and Elora as well.
Din took the chair across from you, a small smile on his lips. You were partly grateful that he was seated with enough distance to keep your mind in order, but knowing him…he’d make sitting like this even worse for you. Here you could see his eyes. You still weren’t sure it was a good thing you could read him so clearly, because right now you knew what he was thinking of and none of it made for appropriate dinner party conversation.
“This smells delicious,” you said, eyeing the roast in the center of the table.
Elora smiled. “Thank you. It’s my dad’s recipe.”
The next few minutes were filled with a comfortable silence as each of you passed dishes around, filling up your plates and glasses with enough to satiate the hunger in your stomachs. You shifted in your seat as Din poured you a glass of whiskey, winking at you as he sucked off whatever fell onto his thumb. Fuck, he was truly trying to ruin you right here in the middle of dinner.
You refused to let him get the upper hand.
“So, how is the store going?” you asked Rey, sipping at the whiskey and avoiding Din’s gaze. Even as it burned into the side of your face.
“It’s going well. Lot’s of busy days with all the new music coming out.”
Finn turned to you, sipping on his own glass. “I managed to ask around and some music labels are willing to give us first take of most newer records coming out.”
“Really?” you asked. “That’s amazing!” Din’s foot brushed against yours, but you willed yourself to keep looking at Finn. “Do you work solely at the store or?”
“No, not anymore. I used to, but now it’s part time.”
Poe jumped in. “Don’t be humble man. Finn’s working his way up in the producer world. He’s got a real talent for it.”
“Ah well I’m trying to at least. I’m no you flyboy.” Finn said, smiling as Poe rolled his eyes.
“You never did tell me about your time as a pilot,” you said. “Were you there long?”
“There’s nothing special to tell sweetheart.” Something thumped under the table, causing Poe to wince. You turned to Din, seeing him swallow his whiskey innocently as he set his fork down, watching you with a glint in his eyes that had you shifting in your chair.
“Are you okay?” you asked, returning your attention to Poe.
You would not lose to Din. You’d won before and you could do it again.
“Yeah,” he bit out, shooting a glare Din’s way. “Just hit my knee against the table.”
That was bullshit—you didn’t miss the way Din’s lips quirked into a grin as he winked at you again. You had half a mind to drag him out into the hallway simply to ring his neck and the longer he toyed with you—sending you looks that no doubt had you dripping in your underwear—the closer you were to actually doing it. You knew what this was, why he was acting this way.
What you finally revealed in the car had opened the door even wider on the prospect of a relationship again and Din was doing his best to kick it the rest of the way down.
He was proving to you how much he wanted you.
Conversation continued around you as both you and Din held your very own silent talk. He smiled, leaning his elbows against the table and placing a piece of meat in his mouth—eyes flicking down to the cleavage your dress showed. Not one to be outdone at a game you’d mastered with him, you leaned forward yourself, reaching for the bowl of vegetables.
He swallowed so hard he started to cough.
“Are you okay?” you asked, innocently. Really you were preening under his heated gaze; his eyes narrowed at you as Poe thumped on his back.
“Yeah,” he croaked.
Grabbing the glass of water in front of him, he retained eye contact as he swallowed, your eyes glancing down to his throat. Suddenly you were reminded how much you loved the sight of it—how much you loved to mark it up with your teeth and lips. He set the glass down with enough force to shake the table slightly, his eyes burning a hole into your face with a need that you felt in the very marrow of your bones.
Fuck how would you two make it long enough to talk out your issues when neither of you could control your impulses?
In your small staring contest, you didn’t seem to notice the others had stopped talking, their attention solely on you. Poe dropping his silverware and giving you a glare snapped you out of your reverie. He coughed, downing his glass of whiskey and pouring another one—laughing to himself about something. Seeing him this way slightly scared you in all honesty. What had you and Din done wrong? You felt like you were about to be reprimanded by your parents for doing something bad at the dinner table.
This wasn’t entirely far from the truth though.
“Poe?” you asked hesitantly.
“Unbelievable.”
“Dameron,” Din said a little harshly, even you winced.
“Don’t you Dameron me you dick.” Poe downed the second glass of whiskey. “You promised me that you’d fix it, that things would change once you got her back.”
You reared back, your eyes no doubt as wide as saucers. “What is he talking about Din?”
“I’m not going to explain myself to you,” Din replied smoothly, setting his glass down as Poe continued to glare at him with enough anger that you were sure Din would be six feet under had Poe been holding a weapon.
You had half a mind to take away the knife beside his right hand.
“No?” Poe began to laugh, his expression scaring the absolute shit out of you. So much so that you started to reach for him only to have Finn stop you. “You don’t want to explain yourself when I let you stay here? When it was me and Finn and Rey and Elora who made sure you didn’t kill yourself with alcohol poisoning?” You winced, feeling your heart twist violently in your chest, but Poe was far from being done. “I can’t believe you two haven’t figured out your issues yet and that you’re still playing this cat and mouse game.”
“Poe—” you started.
“And you.” He averted his glare to you. “I know you’re scared of being with him again, but fucking hell sweetheart—” He turned to Din. “You kick me again for calling her that and I’m going to put my knife in your foot.” Once again his eyes were back on you. “You are so in love with him it’s actually sickening to see it with my own two eyes. I swear if you don’t figure out your shit, the next time I see you I’m locking you two in a room together.”
“Poe—”
“Don’t Poe me. I’ve had to endure listening to you two fuck in so many different places I have actual nightmares about it now, but you know what. I will sacrifice myself one more time and risk hearing you two get it on if it means you will stop eye fucking each other at my table while I’m trying to eat.”
With a final glare in both your directions, he resumed eating his dinner as if nothing interesting happened. As if he hadn’t just shook you and Din so hard with his words that it jarred you out of your fearful states. Were you inevitably going to end up with Din? Yes. You knew this with everything in your being. What you didn’t know was why you were stalling to get to your happily ever after.
Why were you two so hesitant to jump in like you’d done before?
It wasn’t the heartbreak, because if anything that simply made the both of you stronger. So what kept you back? You tried to wrack your brain for any type of answer and could only come up with one that sounded the most reasonable. You were both so terrified of being hurt again that you held off on actually experiencing that happiness you once had again. Maybe that’s what hurt the most. Neither of you could remember what that feeling of pure bliss in a relationship felt like.
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Your apartment door shut with a resounded thud, shutting out the rest of the world until it was just you and Din standing in your kitchen. The dinner had gone smoothly enough after Poe’s reprimanding. You laughed until you couldn’t breathe, reminisced on times at the bar, and felt like you gained three new friends. Poe had calmed down after his third glass of whiskey, but his words still rang loudly in your head.
“That was some night huh,” you said, pulling your heels off and settling on the couch.
He collapsed beside you with a sigh. “I feel like I just got yelled at by a teacher.”
“I’m glad I’m not the only one.” Din’s hand reached for yours, his fingers intertwining with your own. “He was right, you know,” you said softly.
“He shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
“No,” you smiled. “I mean he was right about us.” Din froze, his eyes holding you in a gaze you had no intention of running from. Not this time. “I think we were so lost in our own pain and so focused on finding a way back to each other, that we never figured out a way to find our way back to ourselves.”
He lifted your hand, kissing the back of it just as he had done earlier in the day. A small sign of reassurance—a way to calm your aching heart—and it worked like a charm. You knew without a doubt in your mind, you wanted to be with Din, but you also knew…you had no idea who you were without him. The memory of you being single, being happy and free, had vanished to the very back of your mind.
“So where does that leave us?” he asked, brown eyes delving into yours.
Exhaling, you felt your heart twist. “Maybe…” Fuck you didn’t want to do this. “Maybe we should take these two weeks to try and remember who we are.”
“I’m not leaving you.” He said the words quicker than he could take a breath. Just hearing that managed to calm the racing of your heart, the worries that plagued your mind.
“I don’t want you to.”
“But…”
“But I don’t want you to forget who Din is, who you used to be before me. The bartender who I fell in love with. And I don’t want to forget who I was. I went from one relationship right into the next without ever figuring out who I had shaped up to be. I’d like to meet her.”
He nodded, leaning his forehead against yours. “I’ll do whatever you want sweetheart. I’d do anything to make this work.”
“There’s going to be some ground rules,” you said with a smile, enjoying the slight shift of annoyance on his face.
“Okay…”
“No kissing.” His lips slotted over yours, stealing the breath from your lungs. “Din,” you gasped, pulling away.
He sighed. “You really are trying to kill me.”
“Listen Romeo. You and I both know we can barely keep our hands to ourselves long enough to actually talk and I think we need to start agreeing to be friends before we jump back into a long term relationship.” You tried to maintain your composure, the seriousness in your voice bringing a smile to his face. What did you say that was funny? “And you’re smiling because…”
“You’re hot when you’re bossy.”
“Fuck you Din.” You shoved his shoulder.
“I’m listening,” he replied, pressing his nose to your cheek. “I swear. What are the other rules?”
“What happened tonight at dinner will not be happening again. No teasing okay? We have to at least try.”
“I can’t promise that.”
You huffed. “Din.”
“I’ll do it…for you.” He pressed another kiss to your hand. “Two weeks?”
Nodding, you figured the timeline matched up perfectly. Liv’s wedding would just be the time to hit reboot on your relationship. For two weeks you’d be friends again and begin to formulate a relationship that wasn’t based solely on need and sex. No, this one would be based on love—something you were looking forward to.
“Two weeks,” you responded, reaching your hand out to shake on it.
He dragged you forward by the nape of your neck instead, pressing his lips to yours and licking into your parted mouth as you gasped. He tasted like whiskey and you sighed into the kiss, digging a hand into his hair in order to keep him closer. Sure, it was going against the already set rules, but if you were going two weeks cold turkey…you needed a quick reminder of what you were working towards again. You moaned when he nipped at your lip, licking along it to soothe the ache before pulling away entirely—a flushed look on his face.
“Deal,” he breathed, standing up from the couch with one last look, leaving you there to sit on the couch.
Two weeks…of being friends with Din.
You were fucked.
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Can I play this please..? Anything would be nice,,,,,
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space-spoon · 9 months
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I'm kind of panicking because of school and grades like what if I didn't do good enough what if I got an F
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