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fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year

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Anachronisms

Dieter Bravo x f!reader

|| Consent universe oneshot but can be read independently from the series ||

{ Fuck Yeah Holidays | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E

Prompts: Bridgerton (+ bonus prompt matching tattoos because these two were neck to neck for so long!) | Thanksgiving

Summary: Dieter’s plan to surprise you on the set of Bridgerton for Thanksgiving goes awry when he unwittingly gets cast opposite his ex-girlfriend for a steamy intimate scene - that you have to coordinate.

Warnings: Secret relationship, mention of hair for plot purposes, fighting, jealousy, swearing, dirty talk, spitting, titty fucking, safe unprotected sex, workplace sex. These holiday fics are for fun, so not as *rigorously edited* as my regular stories, please forgive any mistakes or plot holes!

Word count: 4.3k

Notes: Kicking off the holiday season with some Bridgerton action, which came in third place in the holiday vote! This is dedicated to the amazing @nicolethered for having supported this idea since I first mentioned it months ago. You should check out the amazing Dieter in Bridgerton costumes edits she made here. Thank you Nicole for always feeding our community with your content, you are the best ❤️

It’s 7:03 in the morning, and it’s bedlam.

The gravel crunches harshly under your winter boots as you march towards the makeup trailers, parked outside the magnificent historical manor house where the crew is filming on location this weekend. Hooped skirts, elaborately starched wigs, a pod of six pomeranians floofed to perfection and a peacock on a leash pass you by, but none turns your head, blinkered by only one thing on your mind.

The coffee in your gloved hand has long grown cold, the steaming cup having been a mere breath from your lips when the day’s call sheet was delivered to you. It had you spinning on your heels and storming out of the break room on the other side of the expansive, manicured grounds.

It’s just your luck that the most intense filming of the season is scheduled over the long Thanksgiving weekend. While you don’t expect the British production to take a break for the American holiday, you’d at least hoped that you could make it through with as few hitches as possible.

And you probably could’ve, if not for the fact that someone had crossed out the name of the male lead in one of the intimate scenes you’re coordinating on the call sheet.

Next to it, scrawled in a messy hand, is the name of the replacement at the eleventh hour -

D. Bravo.

Spotting the very same name on one of the makeup trailers, you stomp up the rickety stairs and proceed to unceremoniously kick down the door.

Considering the fact that the crew would’ve had to scramble for a decent trailer for the last-minute, big-name casting change, it’s a surprisingly comfortable space. The furniture is a notch up from bog-standard Ikea, including the currently occupied, expensive-looking leather chair at the brightly illuminated makeup station.

In a carefully choreographed movement, the said chair turns in a lazy swivel, creaking on its axles to reveal the man you haven’t seen for three weeks, and hadn’t expected to for another few.

His curls are airplane tousled, sunglasses slid halfway down his nose, and it’s clear from his bloodshot eyes that he just got off the plane.

‘What do you think you’re doing, Dieter Bravo?’

The corner of his mouth, which was ticking upwards into a grin seconds ago, freezes in uncertainty as he wilts under your glare. ‘Sur-prise?’ he trails off into a question.

It’s clearly not the welcome he’s expecting. When Netflix came knocking about the unexpected opportunity for a two-month contract on Bridgerton, you were on a flight to London that very same evening, with only grainy videos tiding you over the Atlantic-wide distance between you since.

‘Surprise?’ you scoff with a roll of your eyes. ‘Yes, it’s a fantastic surprise to find out that the actor I’ve been rehearsing with over the past week for the big scene today has been replaced by none other than you?’

Per usual, when he doesn’t get his way, the puppy eyes come out to play. ‘But sweetheart - it’s the only way I can be with you for Thanksgiving since you’re working the whole time!’

If you were any less overworked and sleep-deprived, you might have folded. But you’ve been scraping by with barely four hours every night since you arrived on set, and you snap. ‘Oh yeah? You were so desperate to be with me that you got yourself cast opposite your ex-girlfriend in one of the steamiest sex scenes of the season?’

His eyes bug out comically as he jumps out of his chair. ‘What?’

‘Yup,’ you grin sarcastically, throwing in a slow clap for maximum effect. ‘I guess I’ll spend the weekend watching you simulate hot sex with your ex, who will probably try every trick in the book to get you back. Happy fucking Thanksgiving!’

‘But - I’m your boyfriend,’ he points out with such maddening conviction that it would’ve been endearing under any other circumstances.

You’re this close to stamping your foot in frustration. ‘Yes, but no one else here knows that!’

‘We’ll tell her.’

You shake your head vehemently. ‘Don’t you dare. If you do, it’ll be all over the newspapers by the end of the day, and I have no time or energy to handle that right now.’

He reaches for you, and you hate that despite your anger, your first instinct is to lean into him - to have him pull you into his arms and wrap you in his cozy cardigan. You catch yourself and shrink back, leaving him grasping at air, the regretful crease on his brow deepening. ‘Sweetheart, I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t know. I wasn’t thinking -’

Waving a stack of paper in his face, you cut in, ‘And you know what? Now I get to fill in this super fun, super long consent form for corporate even though you’re just in one scene I’m in charge of. To think I was getting worried that I wouldn’t have something to be thankful for this year!’

‘Baby, wait, please -’

You’re already halfway out the door, the cold winds doing little to douse your flaring temper. ‘You know what, I’m already late for my first scene. Just show up at the shoot prepared and don’t be late.’

For once, Dieter listens.

By the time you barrel into the grand library - wheezing most attractively, having sprinted full-throttle from your previous location - he’s already in full costume, nose buried in the script as a makeup artist touches him up.

And it’s not fair.

It’s not fair how good he looks in regency costume. The velvet tailcoat in midnight blue hangs from his broad shoulders, tapered at the waist, a black vest in rich brocade peeking out from underneath, unbuttoned.

It’s not fair that his thick curls and tidy moustache fit into the era seamlessly. They even let him keep his earring in - his character is a Rake with a capital R from America after all. The biggest change is his usual chunky jewellery swapped out for a gold signet ring on his pinky finger.

And if all this isn’t enough, he’s also drenched from head to toe.

It’s a shamelessly tropey scene where the Rake’s romantic interest pushes him into a fountain at the party in a fit of passion. When he emerges, soaked to the skin, cravat untied and white shirt hanging open down to his sternum, he chases her into the library and has his wicked way with her by the fireplace while the party goes on beyond the unlocked doors.

It’s not fair how he becomes the role so effortlessly, despite having just gotten off the redeye mere hours ago, no rehearsal other than a quick table read before the cameras start rolling. He’s obviously read all your notes, and he’s hitting all the cues and camera angles with almost infuriating ease.

And it’s not fair that your boyfriend’s first kiss in three weeks is with his ex.

You know it’s your fault. It doesn’t take a genius to work out that Netflix must have kept the identity of his scene partner from him when he signed on. It’s cheeky, but not nefarious - up until you submitted that consent form a couple of hours ago, they didn’t know you two were dating. As far as they were concerned, it was serendipitous timing when Dieter Bravo randomly came knocking for a bit part in the upcoming season.

As it often plays out, your temper got the better of you. Now that the day has started, you won’t be able to catch even two seconds alone with him to apologise, to tell him that you love that he came to surprise you, and that you miss him so fucking much.

Instead, you’re watching him pretending to get it on with his on-screen partner with an intensity that’s taking your breath away. Damnit, does he have to be so good at every job that he takes on? Can’t he just be mediocre, just this once?

You’re so deep inside your own head that you almost don’t hear the director yell cut. He turns to you and prompts, ‘Thoughts so far?’

You’re a professional. You’ve worked with Dieter on far more intense scenes than this. But still, the words taste so bitter on your tongue you almost choke on them.

‘Listen up, guys. The top half of the frame is looking empty, there’s not enough going on above the waist,’ you speak out clearly. ‘Dieter, put your lips on her neck. Gail, you ok for him to touch your breasts?’

She winks at you, before running a finger down the hook of Dieter’s nose. ‘You know very well that I ticked anything goes in my consent form. He can do whatever he wants with these titties.’

Dieter doesn’t even look at her, instead giving you the biggest puppy eyes, a plea in his voice as he calls your name. ‘But I don’t want anything to do with them.’

Gail grins and arches beneath him, her cleavage nearly bursting out of her corset. ‘Oh please, Dee. Don’t you remember your favourite way to eat breakfast when we were together? You used to lick the peanut butter straight off my nip-’

‘Ok then!’ you interrupt in a loud panic, wanting to plug your ears before you hear anything else you regret. ‘Positions everyone!’

You’re currently breaking every single rule in the intimacy coordinator rulebook, but there’s nothing you can do to stem the hot rush of jealousy through your veins. Despite Dieter’s reluctance, his chemistry with Gail is unreal, drawing your traitorous eyes to the director’s monitor. The camera follows a droplet of water dripping off his soaked curls over his eyes and onto her clavicle, which he chases with his tongue. His coat and waistcoat have long been discarded, his smooth skin golden against hers in the firelight. There’s no denying that they’re a beautiful couple.

There’s also no denying that your nails are biting into the meat of your palms as you watch hands that you haven’t held in weeks skate over her bare legs, lips that you desperately miss drag down her neck, the familiar snap of his hips not between your thighs, but hers.

You’ve never had a problem with his other co-stars - but this? This is personal.

While promoting her memoir on Oprah two weeks ago, Gail declared that Dieter is the one that got away, promising salacious details of their relationship in her book, setting tabloids and social media on fire.

The silence on his end only fanned the flames. Not because he didn’t want to say anything, that wasn’t the issue - Rebecca had to lock him out of Instagram so he wouldn’t post anything rash - but his agency decided that any response would only help sell his ex’s book, and they will not play into her hand.

It doesn’t help that the two of you haven’t gone public. It’s not that you’ve been hiding, industry insiders who work with you both are in the know, but the press haven’t caught on yet. And while that has afforded the two of you privacy while you navigate the new relationship, it has turned out to be a double-edged sword.

A high-pitched, breathy wail shakes you from your thoughts as the scene reaches its literal climax, and Dieter’s movements stutter to a halt - with a groan that is a pale shadow of what he sounds like when you make him cum.

A possessive half-smile curls on your lips.

That is just for you.

It’s 8:37 in the evening, and it’s still bedlam.

But the day is over, and you’re alive. You somehow made it through four back-to-back intimate scenes, including one slippery (ha!) bathhouse orgy.

It’s Thanksgiving afternoon back at home now, and your phone is buzzing with messages. You flick through photos of pumpkin pies, turkeys in ovens, potatoes of all renditions. You just want a nice hot shower to wash the day off, order room service and spend the weekend making it up to Dieter - or the other way round - or both.

You’re this close to making it out of there, your finger hovering over Dieter’s number on your phone screen, when a breathless runner waylays you.

‘Costumes and hair. Now,’ she wheezes and herds you in the opposite direction of the exit.

Thanks to a bunch of extras who decided not to show up for the ball scene, you’re one of the many unfortunate backstage staff who are now standing in as background actors. You’ve been squeezed into an ill-fitted dress that’s held together by safety pins, the corset underneath biting into your ribs. The white gloves that are pulled up above your elbows are a cheap polyester that’s making your skin itch.

The balls of your feet ache from running around all day, and your neck is so stiff you can hardly turn your head, but you can’t help gawking at the set. The manor’s orangerie is illuminated in warm light, every inch of the pillars holding up the soaring glass ceiling dressed up in creeping vines and fresh, colourful blooms. A string quartet fills the airy space with lively dance music, and there’s a buzz in the air just from being in such a big set piece with so many moving pieces.

You begrudgingly admit that you’re not mad to be here. You’re actually quite happy to sip on your mocktail and be a fly on the wall while the cameras roll on the other side of the room.

But when has anything gone to plan today?

At least he has the decency to wait until you’ve polished off your drink. The second you set the empty glass down on a cocktail table, a warm hand closes around your wrist and you’re spun headfirst into a familiar broad chest.

You look up into big, brown eyes.

‘What are you doing?’ you blurt out in panic as Dieter spins you into the thick of the swaying crowd. ‘You’re not supposed to be dancing with me.’

He tugs you closer, close enough that your noses brush together. ‘I don’t give a fuck. I’ve wanted to get you alone all day. I’m sorry, sweetheart, I fucked up.’

You shake your head, fingers finding the nape of his neck. ‘No, I’m sorry. I overreacted.’

He smiles - you’ve missed the crinkles at the corner of his eyes when he does - and teases, ‘I should know by now that you don’t handle surprises well.’

‘Always been too much of a control freak,’ you shoot back self-deprecatingly.

‘Just the way I like it,’ he retorts, his palms warm on the small of your back.

As Dieter glides you across the dance floor, you catch Gail glaring daggers at the two of you. You admit in a small voice, ‘It was hard seeing you with her.’

He doesn’t even spare a glance the way of his ex. Reaching up to catch your chin between his thumb and index finger, he says, ‘I’m with you, sweetheart. You know that, right?’

‘I know. It’s unprofessional of me to be jealous.’

A playful growl rumbles in his chest, and you feel it when he leans into you, hot breath on the shell of your ear. ‘But I love it when you’re unprofessional, sweetheart.’

‘Dieter,’ you chide, ducking your head. ‘People are looking.’

He hums into the crook of your neck before spinning you around, back to his front. ‘Let them. My character is a rake. I’m expected to be prowling about corrupting young ladies.’

You scoff, a smile tugging at your lips. ‘I’m not that young anymore, Bravo -’

The banter comes to an abrupt halt when Dieter freezes behind you, his fingers digging into your wrists where he’s holding them. Confused, you’re about to turn around in a question when he reaches up and traces a fingertip along the sensitive skin behind your left ear, before doing the same on the other side.

Oh fuck.

You have nowhere else to look when he turns you around. ‘Sweetheart?’

You know what he’s looking at. A tiny, solid triangle tattoo behind your right ear, the outline of an identical one behind your left - carbon copies of his. You haven’t been hiding them from him per se - you just don’t wear your hair up often and the topic never came up.

Swallowing thickly, you confess, ‘When we were broken up, I went on a bit of a crazy night in Calgary with the crew. We ended up in a tattoo parlour at four in the morning, and someone dared me to get inked.’

His eyes soften. ‘And you chose to get my tattoos?’

You nod, letting the gravity of the moment linger for a second, before you joke, ‘Don’t let it get to your head, Bravo. I just really like triangles.’

He chuckles and wriggles his eyebrows suggestively. ‘Let’s get out of here. I think I need to look at your tattoos somewhere more private.’

You arch an eyebrow at him. ‘You can see them just fine here.’

Dieter smiles wolvishly. ‘Yeah, but I need to see how well you wear them when you’re naked, sweetheart.’

You know it’s petty, but you can’t help fluttering your fingers at a flabbergasted Gail as Dieter drags you across the dancefloor, his intent clear to anyone watching. He shepherds you impatiently towards the exit and into the frigid darkness.

Having caught your exchange with his ex, Dieter he tuts in mock admonishment, teeth catching the hollow of your throat as one hand drops to squeeze your ass. ‘Such unprofessional behaviour, sweetheart, marking your territory like that in front of everyone like that.’

Glancing about to make sure there are no eyes around, you shove him up against one of the supplies trailers parked outside the orangerie, cupping his half-hard erection boldly through his woollen trousers.

You grin at the way his pupils immediately blow black and wide. ‘Oh, you’ve seen nothing yet - I’m about to get a lot more unprofessional with you, Mr. Bravo.’

Dieter has you pinned between two fake antique cabinets, stacked on top of a low table that you’re sitting on the edge of. His jacket and waistcoat are on the floor behind him, shirt unravelled and unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest - just the way he likes it - the billowy sleeves pushed up the crease of his elbows. His pants are halfway down his thighs, his hard cock bobbing as he kisses you desperately, greedy hands grabbing at anything he can reach.

The fact that you’ve been apart for three long weeks is slowly seeping in. ‘Touch me, Dieter, please,’ you breathe as he latches wetly onto your pulse point.

His curls fall over his eyes as he hovers above you. ‘Shit, your tits look amazing, sweetheart.’

You laugh. ‘Trust me, yours would too in this fucking corset.’

He grins, trailing wet kisses over the slopes of your breasts. ‘Can I fuck them, baby?’

Your chest constricts in desire and your lips part wantonly. ‘What?’

‘Wanna fuck your tits, sweetheart,’ he repeats, his teeth flashing white in the dim as he mouths at the skin under your chin. You shudder when he pushes his thumb into the gap of your artificially lifted cleavage. ‘Please?’

You nod, and before you know it, the front of your dress has been pulled down, the sound of fabric tearing making you gasp. ‘Dieter!’

‘Sorry,’ he murmurs in a clearly unapologetic tone as he leans down to run his tongue along the neckline of the corset you’re wearing, before yanking that down too. The fabric catching under your bust pushes everything up and Dieter moans at the sight you make. ‘Fuck, look at you, sweetheart. Look at those gorgeous tits, all for me.’

You plant your hands on the table, instinctively leaning forward, arms against your sides to press your tits together. With hooded eyes, you watch as Dieter bends over -

And dribbles spit all over your tits.

You whine at the unexpected wetness. ‘Dieter, what, oh my god -’

Your frantic cries go straight to his head, and he shoves two fingers into your mouth, drunk on lust. Grabbing the base of his hard cock with his other hand, he carefully drags the weeping head over the slippery spittle, slicking up his length, before easing himself into the channel between your tits. ‘Oh fuck. Fuck, sweetheart, squeezing me so tight -’

A moan caught in your throat, you suck hard on his fingers in your mouth as he begins to fuck your tits in earnest. ‘Missed you so much, baby. Did you miss my cock? Miss having it deep inside you?’

You gag around his fingers when he pushes them in too far down, brushing the back of your throat, but you chase after them when he tries to retreat, wanting him inside you, anywhere in you. His free hand spans the width of your breasts, pushing them together, eyes darkening at the way your soft curves give pliantly at his movements. Dieter groans at the snug fit and fucks you faster, the pink, swollen head of his cock - drooling with sticky precum - peeking out from between your cleavage between thrusts, and his breath stutters in a telltale sign.

Pulling your mouth off his digits with a wet pop, you warn, ‘We can’t make a mess, Dieter.’

‘Who says I’ll make a mess?’ he asks, almost in a challenge.

‘You always do.’

His hips slow, languidly sliding between your tits as he grins. ‘Not if you let me come inside you and you keep your legs closed like a good girl afterwards.’

Your eyes squeeze shut as you let his filthy words wash over you. ‘Dieter - yes, please -’

Impatient hands spin you around and boost you up onto the table so that you’re kneeling on the hard surface, legs folded underneath you. The satin of your dress is slippery, and he bunches it up and around your waist with a frustrated growl before pulling your soaked panties down your thighs, leaving them tangled around your knees.

Dieter kisses the side of your neck, fingers sliding gently between your thighs. ‘But are you ready for me, sweetheart? I haven’t even touched you yet.’

Reaching backwards blindly, you find his throbbing cock and line it up at your entrance. ‘It’s ok, I want to feel you stretch me open. Please, please fuck me -’

At your pleading words, Dieter drapes his broad frame over you, bracketing your smaller body with his as he presses slowly into you, weeks of pent-up frustration finding its home. He bites down where your neck meets your shoulder, listening intently as your tight folds part slickly for him. ‘Sweetheart. Missed you so fucking much. Missed this pussy, always so wet for me. Always.’

Your head spins at the way his cock fills you up from this angle - you’re so full of him, you whine, ‘Move, Dieter, I want you to fuck me hard.’

Neither of you will last - it’s been too long and you’re both too on edge. His hands are gripping the insides of your thighs tightly as he pounds into you recklessly, no rhythm to speak of. The table bangs against the metal side of the trailer, making a ruckus, but you don’t hear it over his harsh breathing in your ears and the desperate noises he’s coaxing from you.

Dieter’s pulling you back onto his cock, hitting so deep inside you that you’re blindsided by the orgasm that’s happening before your head catches on. ‘Dieter - I’m cumming, oh fuck, fuck -’

You’re still lost in your high when he twists his fingers into your hair, the sting grounding you to the moment as he pins the loose strands against the back of your head. You know that his eyes are on your tattoos - smaller, hidden from sight, but no less real - just like the ones branded into the skin on the insides of his forearms.

His hips start to falter as he tugs you against his chest, lips nipping at his markings on you. ‘You’re mine, sweetheart - you hear me?’

You whimper as he grabs your tits roughly while he hurtles head first towards his breaking point. You babble incoherently, ‘Yours, baby - come inside me, mark me with your cum -’

With a howl, Dieter breaks, and you feel him spill deep and hot inside you before his knees give out, knocking you hard into the table. You pant, watching your breath mist in the cold air as his tongue runs reverent circles over your tattoos. You look down at where his matching triangles press against your skin, his strong arms tight around your waist, his beard tickling your nape as he moves to kiss your shoulder.

Turning around, you smear a sloppy kiss against his lips, a sex-addled chuckle rippling through your sated body as you meet his lazy gaze. ‘Happy Thanksgiving, Dieter.’

‘Happy Thanksgiving, sweetheart,’ he mumbles, burying his face in your neck, his heartbeat an irregular tattoo of its own against your back. ‘I hope you’ve worked up an appetite.’

You hum contently. ‘I could eat. Why?’

‘I might have ordered a turkey to be delivered to our hotel room tonight.’

You swat at him in reprimand before he grabs your hands and pins them to your sides easily. ‘A whole turkey? For the two of us? I told you, you should never be allowed to do the ordering!’

He grins, clearly happy at having gotten a rise out of you. ‘Okay, fine - they don’t actually have turkey on the room service menu. I ordered a chicken and asked them to cook it till it’s dry and tough so we can pretend it’s turkey.’

With an exasperated shake of your head, you sigh, ‘You’re such an imbecile, Dieter Bravo.’

He beams with pride. ‘Only for you, sweetheart.’

More notes: I hope you enjoyed this smutty interlude! I've always wanted to write a titty fucking scene and it has to be Dieter 🫠 Ngl, I was quite anxious going into the holiday fics, but I'm happy to report that these two still live rent-free in my head. Thank you for reading, as always, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated!

While I'm not American, happy Thanksgiving to those who do celebrate it!

Thank you @firefly-graphics for the lovely dividers as always.

#it’s consent season #dieter bravo oneshot #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x fem!reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x reader #queue

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sammy--moh · 8 months

Text

A random ramble about my identity, modern queer community and queer history bc I'm hyperfixated

(I don't want slur discourse under my post. I reclaim words that have been directly used to oppress me only and only towards myself, that's where the conversation ends)

(Cis/Hets don't touch this post

Terfs especially don't even look at this post

Anti kink fuckers don't look at this post, kink and LGBT are separate things but you cannot untangle kink history from queer/LGBT history

If your against the use of the word queer, don't clown on this post

Queer cis people are free to interact and add their opinions but don't clown on this post

Trans people and queer punks and activists please interact <3

Any corrections are welcomed as long as their constructive)

So you could probably find a few posts of me talking about some of my more modern and neo/xeno identity labels, its something I'm fairly proud of I'm a neo pronoun user and have been out as a nonbinary man for a long time

But I don't think I talk about my more, I guess classical and older queer labels and that feels disingenuous because I do still love queer history and have a lot of what would be considered ""outdated"" identieies

Yeah I'm a neo user and have some xeno gender labels, and I'm T4T which as far as I know is a label thats been around a long time but its still common and normally used today

But im also just a gender nonconformist(sometimes i use and reclaim the words transexual and transvestite just to piss off cis people who say i cant), i unapolgetically reclaim the word f4g, im in the leather community, I'm a fem man, im a cub, all things that have been around maybe since the 60s - 70s that I/still/ find connection to, comfort and community in

I mean hell I usually consider myself to currently be in a masc 4 fem relationship which you'd probably never guess by just looking at me

Which is another thing! Why is it always assumed that cubs and bears are the mascs?? I think I have more traditionally feminine clothing and presentation then most of my twink friends, I am a big, fat, extroverted, hairy cub and I am still the fem in one of my relationships and very feminine and fem presenting in general

Obviously masc 4 fem is not the only kind of mlm and wlm relationship that's stupid sndnd and expecting it is heteronormative, some people are masc 4 masc,fem 4 fem, heck not everyone /likes/ traditional masc fem labels and that's awesome!

Another thing I don't see a lot of people talk about is the fact that the bear and cub community is objectively a body positivity movement, that's what it started as that's what it always will be

Bear culture was a reaction to the beauty standards of gay culture at the time, when the ideal in gay relationships were young, thin, conventionally attractive gay and bi/multisexual men

Bear culture was specifically made to appreciate, lift up, and love large, hairy,sometimes older gay and bi/multsexual men and cub culture branched off from bears

I'm gonna be honest, I am recovering from a few body image issues and disorders that I wont go in depth on, and bear + cub culture has helped me to love myself and my body and find myself attractive more than any other body positivity space! Not to say other body positvity spaces arent important and needed, but that as a queer trans man this one has been the space I felt the most welcomed in

I wish there were a few expectations we could leave behind, like the idea that bears and cubs only date other bears and cubs, that terms like bear, twink, otter, leather gay, ect are gay exclusive and not just mlm and nwlnw terms, that fem and masc culture are gay and lesbian exclusive (dont come at me there are several moments in history we see these terms used by bi and generally queer men and that show masc and fem culture in bi and generally queer spaces)

I wish I could find more people like me in history, trans men who weren't masc, transmen and transmascs that were unapologetically feminine, I want to find transman queens in history, trans gay and mlm men, it's hard to find.. but I'm almost positive there has to be at least some people like me in queer history

But in general there's so much we can learn and keep from older queer culture that I feel has been lost a lot with younger generations

I love modern queer culture and neo/xeno labels and communities ans MOGAI and the breakdown of gender norms and sexual expectations

But im also unapolgetically a fem, leather loving, kinkster, trans fucking, fat cub, cross dressing faggot

All of these things are me

You cannot untangle or separate these identieies and labels from /me/

There are riots and loss in my history, and there is raw, unapolgetic queer beauty as well. there is pride in my veins, and fight in my lungs, and I wouldn't trade any of it for shit

#queer #lgbtqia #queer activism #transgender #trans activism #slur reclamation #queer history #gay history #lgbt history #mogai identity #gay cub #queer pride #gay pride #multisexual #mlm #t4t #long post #queer punk

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trolagygirl2022 · 3 days

Note

Hello! I hope I’m you are having a good day! I’m here to participate in the exchange game! I will be attaching my briede persona chart too!

Your FS: Physical description:

Visual: carrie and aidan season 3 scenepack (youtube.com) (2:17- 4:19) He is considered VERY se*y.I feel like your fs is on the bigger side. He may be comfortable being himself and doesn’t worry about restricting himself in order to fit some aesthetic. As a result his weight may fluctuate alot. His legs may have really muscular legs because he walks a lot. He may have dark wavy hair that makes a bit of a Superman curl. He may have big green eyes that are super expressive. It makes him look younger than he is. He may have a natural tan especially during the summer. He may have a more laid back style (athlesure) but he knows how to dress up when the occasion calls for it. He doesn’t really like it. He may have to do it for work sometimes. There may be certain items in his wardrobe that he wears a lot, for example a leather jacket. ‘It just fits me just right!’

Their aura/vibe:

Visual: herc_clip_005.AVI.mp4 (youtube.com)Your fs may come across as super earnest. He has a very welcoming and kind aura that invites people in. He’s considered really popular and very likable among other people. He may be constantly surrounded by others wanting his attention. He may accidentally find himself to be the leader of a lot of social circles. Your fs may be extremely community focused. He loves to give back and do little things for those around him. He may be the type to drive his elderly neighbors to the grocery or appointments. He may have done those types of things since he was quite young. He may have grown up in a more individualized community that may have thought this was weird. ‘You should only take care of yourself and your own. He may like to sneak in little surprises for those he cares about too. They weren’t always appreciated though especially by those he grew up around. He loves in a big way and sometimes people found that ‘annoying’. Your fs didn’t worry about what they thought though.Visual:Wes and Jen's Relationship 5 (youtube.com)(0:22-1:37) He is very confident and has an easy going nature. He tries really hard not to let things bother him and he cares alot about keeping the peace. He’s VERY patient. He thinks about his words for a long time before he speaks them so his words are always very thoughtful and meaningful. He may have a tendency to overthink and filter himself though. He worries a lot about hurting others with his words. I feel like when he gets too emotionally overwhelmed his filter drops. He becomes really blunt sometimes to the point of hurting others. He will immediately apologize and try really hard to do better. I feel like your fs may lead his life by his emotions and intuition, while you are more logical. Some of his responses may not make sense to you because they come from a more emotional root. I feel like he really likes being outdoors and spending time in nature. Its a special time for him to reflect and connect with himself again. He may take a lot of walks in order to clear his head. He’ll really like to take you along with him once your relationship becomes more serious.Visual:ariel and eric library scene part 2 | little mermaid 2023 hd - YouTubeYour fs has a very curious mind. His mind is constantly moving even when he’s not. He wants to know more about the people and things around him. He likes asking a lot of questions.He lives collecting new information.He may have Gemini placements. He may hide his intelligence and pretend to be a himbo because he thinks its funny. He loves when people underestimate him. He doesn’t try to correct their assumptions either because he’s secure enough in himself when he doesn’t have to prove anything. Visual: Wes and Jen's Relationship 9 (youtube.com)(0:19-1:00)Your fs expresses his inner child in a really healthy way. He has a lot of ‘childish’ hobbies that he loves doing such as watching cartoons or doing crafts. He’s not afraid to be a ‘big kid’. Others may accuse him of being immature,but that couldn’t be further from the truth. He just knows he doesn’t have to be serious all the time to be a ‘real adult’. I feel like he’ll really encourage you to let loose and be silly with him.

How others describe them:

Visual: Moving Out (In)! #3.20 (youtube.com) He could be considered the whole package.People love that he’s basically a giant puppy.Your fs’ kindness softens even the hardest of hearts. It’s super hard to dislike your fs and that may annoy people. Some people may try really hard to find something “wrong” about your fs. I feel like some people are jealous of the amount of attention they get. They may feel like your fs pushes them out of the spotlight and that’s not your fs’ intention at all. Your fs would honestly rather be in the background anyway. He may like to put the spotlight on other people than himself. He’s eager to help others and people recognize that immediately. They may try to take advantage of him but he has a lot of powerful allies in his social circle.Not many people have the balls to try him because of it. Others may feel like he’s oblivious to how protected he is but your fs sees more than he lets on. He has a strong sense of discernment. He may be popular but there are very few people he truly trusts. His friends may immediately feel protective over you because they recognize you as his special person.

Oh my gosh I was so surprised and pleased by the amount of time and effort you put into this!!! This is so cool and I love how you used your intuition and all of this!! Ok onto the reading.

For your future wife, she has this mischievous charming look to her. Like you know the phrase "witty smile"? That's a major trait that I see her having. Her eyes is something that came up, so this could do with her eye color or just the way it looks is very charming. I see her being very expressive. (she'll definitely make faces like this: 🤨😜🙄🤦🏾‍♀️🙆🏾‍♀️, LOL). She has a lot of charm and can easily pull people. She does look young (possibly younger than her age) but has some masculine features (I'm seeing a more masculine body type and stronger bone structure, possibly a square face shape). I don't know why but I'm getting strong Missy Cooper vibes LOL. I'm seeing her wearing more earthy and "muted" colours. Her style is more casual but it's cute. I see her being a brunette too. Getting some green too so possible green eyes? Her hair could be on the more curly or wavey side too. I think her eyes are her best features, very enchanting and they pull you in.

Their aura/vibe:

I have a strong feeling she also has this sass to her lol. She's pretty witty and has swift comebacks which leads me to believe that she's quite well known/popular. However, she isn't as out of touch as popular people tend to be, I see her being quite empathetic and really sweet. She has a lot of emotional intelligence. She can come off as pretty strong due to her boldness and her beauty, people can have a certain perception of her. She can be pretty emotional but doesn't like to show it, she seems to be someone that keeps her feelings to herself and doesn't like to show them. She's a strong humanitarian, I see her being pretty passionate about such things and could be into activism. She cares a lot about her community and her friends. She's the type of person that cares a LOT about her friends and can act like a "mom" at times. She's someone that really likes order and likes to take charge. She doesn't like being lazy and is always trying to work on herself and improve on places she needs to. She's a perfectionist but can get quite hard on herself. Can come off as a bit judgy but she isn't that type of person. Your future wife has a more "bolder" side where she likes to release her playful energy but that's only in private. That can be in her personality, how she dresses herself, etc. She presents herself in a clean manner and likes to make herself look good. She's someone that is very devoted but that has backfired on her. I see her kindness being taken advantage of by people far too many times that it's really affecter her trust issues. Her "closed off" energy is a mask to protect herself from stuff like that happening. She can really loose herself in relationships. I see her feeling the need to do way more than she needs to. She's pretty intuitive and I see her really utilizing those skills. Oh and a major thing about her is that she's pretty playful! She knows how to let loose and have fun! She has very warm energy. Pretty creative and could be interested in arts and media.

How others see them:

She's veeeeerryyy social and veeeeeeery well liked. She's like the kid in highschool that was very well liked and you could barely find anything to hate her on. She could work in media and communications but that's just a thought. Anyways, the way people think of them is similar to what I said in the last part. I just see people seeing her as a bit closed off? Like people can try to connect with her but she likes to stand her ground. It's not a bad trait at all but it's something people notice and mention it. Other people notice her fun nature meanwhile others talk about her vast knowledge on many things, yes she's pretty funny but she's smart too that's something that should be acknowledged! I see her being a lot of people's "ideal type" too. She's someone that's easily liked by people and can attract people unknowingly.

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barnesbabee · 3 years

Text

collab || J.Y

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ 2 - ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴍ.ʟɪꜱᴛ

Summary: Two famous porn stars have a fun collab together.

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x gn!reader

Words: Just enough

⚠ although there is no mention of gender, the reader wears makeup and lingerie, so if you are uncomfortable with that, don't read ⚠

As Yunho dried his hair with a small towel, he heard the familiar ding sound from his social media. He had just finished uploading the edited version of his live stream, so it wasn't unusual for him to be contacted by a bunch of people right after, however, he didn't expect to see you.

You weren't well known in the porn scenario, as you were fairly new and the competition was vast, but your 'Around The World' series had become a huge success and a major hit for its originality.

Yunho was quite a fan of the series, so when he saw your message, his fingers were crossed.

Y/N: Hello! My name is Y/N, I'm not sure if you know my work, but I am a porn star that is currently doing a series called 'Around The World' where I... well, fuck people all around the world. My next stop is South Korea and I have seen your work before and I think our style is very similar and I would love to do a collab with you! Feel free to check out my work on my page, I hope to hear from you soon! xoxo

The tall man squealed like a high schooler getting a text from his crush, he's always wanted a collab and now he was about to get one in one of the biggest series of the moment!

Yunhxxx: Hello Y/N! I am aware of your series and I am a fan! I would love to do the collab with you! I'll send you my number so we can talk about the details more comfortably :)

Part of your anxiousness died down at his response. Most porn stars were very polite and kind in front of the camera, and in business discussion, all for that quick buck, but you'd find, with your series, that a lot of them were just assholes with a huge ego. You had a good feeling about Yunho, but you didn't want to get your hopes up and then be disappointed.

The arrangements didn't take long, as you were both excited for the collab to happen, making it very easy to communicate. Yunho was kind enough to offer his own home for you to sleep in, arguing that 'whoever fucks me gets to sleep in my house for free'.

Yunho spent the weekend preparing everything for your arrival on Monday morning: he cleaned his whole house, stocked his fridge and cabinets with all sorts of food, and sanitized every toy of his. By the time he received your 'I'm on my way!' text, his house was the cleanest it had ever been.

The man showered, put on his best cologne, and applied some dark eyeshadow under his eyes. As he stood in front of the closet in his briefs only, he wondered what he should go for. A sophisticated look? A sexy look? An outlaw-looking look? He wanted something to get you immediately attracted to him. Yunho wanted to make you feel good, not to make you act as if you felt good.

Ultimately he chose a black button-up and black suit pants. He decorated his long fingers (that he had come to learn was something many people liked about him) and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

Yunho was aware of his innocent appearance. He had had his cheeks squeezed one too many times, so he caught on quickly. However, the man loved to play with his looks. He loved to make people wonder what kind of person he was, with a cute face, yet an intimidating look.

Before he knew it, his doorbell rang. Yunho took one last look in the mirror, just to make sure everything was in its place and walked towards the door. The first hello wasn't awkward at all, as you'd already had a few zoom calls to discuss what would happen in your collab, just to make sure there were no misunderstandings.

Once you stepped in with your suitcase, you couldn't help but notice how neat, modern, and well decorated his house was. The walls were white with big windows, and the furniture was a mix of grey, light blue, and white. Yunho lead you to the guest room where you'd be staying, and it was a lot nicer than you expected. The bed was high and large, the duvet was grey with a bunch of fluffy white and red pillows decorating it. In front of the bed was a modern black vanity with lightbulbs around the squared mirror, and against the wall in front of the door was a black, sliding door wardrobe, with a large, orange, and red abstract painting of a couple. His house looked simple yet classy, with just the right amount of colour and decoration. You took a look at him, his dark look contrasting the house.

"You already got prepared?"

Yunho looked a little puzzled for a second, but then understood. "Oh! Oh no, you've just arrived, you must be tired! This is just... how I dress?" He said, feeling a little embarrassed.

You took a good look at his outfit.

"You always dress like that? Wow..."

Yunho's cheeks became a little red at the comment, and he stumbled over his words as he thanked you. He was used to receiving compliments when he had his clothes off, but with clothes on? Not so much... Before closing the door, Yunho told you to feel at home, and that when you were ready you could start setting everything up in the room he used to shoot.

The man had never felt that nervous, so when he finally closed the door, he immediately headed to his living room, and found the whiskey bottle he kept for emergencies. He poured a generous glass and sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone as he waited for you.

You were pretty much used to the routine, and since you had a stopover in a neighboring country and spent the night there, the trip hadn't been too tiring. You sat on the very convenient vanity and re-did your makeup. You liked to match your look to your type of content, so you went for a dark look: dark purple lipstick, a heavy, black smokey eye, and loads of mascara. You made sure to apply a lot, so it would run down your face and give the viewers the fucked out look they loved to see.

The lingerie matched your makeup: black lace lingerie with some bling here and there, and a garter belt to accessorize. You grabbed your robe from your suitcase and exited the room.

"Yunho?" You called, peeking your head from behind the wall.

"Hm?"

His eyes widened when he looked up. You were completely different from the person he had met.

"I am ready if you are!"

He nodded and stood up, downing the rest of his 2nd whiskey cup in one go. Yunho took you upstairs and opened the door to his 'studio'.

In the center of the room was a carpet, and a big, empty space behind it.

"I usually move the bed or the couch over there, depending on what I want to do that day. I found that it was easier to move the furniture than the whole set up." He explained, pointing at the empty space.

Against the wall, opposite of you, there was a bed, much like the one on your bedroom, and a nice, black leather couch. Beside you there was a closet, where Yunho kept all his toys, accessories, and streaming outfits. Other than that it was just the usual setup: a desk with a computer, professional lights, and a camera.

Yunho walked over to the couch and moved it with ease to the empty space.

"So we've already decided?" You asked.

The man smirked as if simply entering the room turned him into a completely different person.

"I already have everything planned out for you dear, it would be rude to have my guests work."

You blushed slightly, and sat on the couch, waiting for the green light.

You watched as he opened the closet, displaying his wide collection. He picked a bunch of stuff that he set on top of a towel on the floor.

"Alright, that's about it."

You cocked your head to the side, in confusion.

"You're not getting dressed?"

Yunho reached for the choker he had brought and softly placed it around your neck, tying it just tight enough. He hooked his finger on the big metal ring on the front and tugged on it. You followed his silent command and knelt on the ground, in front of the couch.

"I'm already dressed, for the concept we're gonna try."

You were getting curious and excited. You stayed still as he started up the live stream. Yunho turned on the lights, set up the camera, and pressed 'Start Live Video'. The screen counted down from five, until the live started.

Yunho sat on the couch behind you, and placed his large hand on your head.

The man smirked as soon as the comments started raining.

There was a mixture of fuck yeah's and happy cheers as they recognized Yunho, and became excited for what was to come. The live was obviously happening on your account, although you would always split the tips with the person you worked with.

"Hello," Yunho started, and you let him take the lead "welcome to the 24th edition of Around The World, I am today's guest, and we have such a great show for you today, don't we?"

Yunho tugged on your hair, making you wince. You looked at the camera and nodded.

The 30 dollar donation ding sounded, announcing that someone had made a request.

'Make her sit on your thigh'

You let Yunho take the lead once more, hooking his finger on your choker's hoop and pulling you up, to sit on his thigh. You hummed as you rolled your hips, causing friction between your core and his thigh. Your hand ran along his torso, feeling the fabric of his shirt.

"He has too many clothes, don't you think?" You asked the camera, in a flirty tone.

There was a rain of comments agreeing with you, and you immediately got to work, unbuttoning his shirt slowly. His dick print was already very visible in his pants, and you could now understand why he wanted to wear that look.

You removed his shirt, slowly and teasingly, as the viewers praised Yunho's toned body.

The male hooked his finger on your underwear and snapped it against your skin. Your little whimper at the sudden pain made him smirk.

Yunho ran his hands along your body, making you shiver from the cold metal of his rings.

Tips and donations rained down with many requests, and so you went back on the floor and laid your head on Yunho's thigh, your face mere inches away from his hard-on. You perked your ass up and traced the shape of his cock with your finger.

"What do you think? Should we reward them?" Yunho asked, petting your head as he stared into the camera.

As expected, everyone gave you the green light to continue, so you slowly opened his fly, to find he had no underwear on. You freed him from his pants, gripping his length in your hand. You kept eye contact with the male, and although you were a professional, you were always nervous when you had to take dicks on the bigger side.

You spat on his tip, and played with his cock for a second, before slowly inserting it in your mouth. Yunho groaned and threw his head back, taking in the warmth of your mouth. His hand was tangled in your hear, gripping it and tugging on it from time to time.

"Shit, you're doing so good..."

Yunho was very vocal, to your (and the viewer's) pleasure.

The 50$ notification ding sounded, and a message played right after.

'bby I wanna see you jump on his cock'

Yunho smirked and gripped your hair, in a firm, yet not painful way. He swiped his thumb across your bottom lip, cleaning the remaining saliva.

"Hmm, you know what, so do I."

You stripped from your underwear, in a sensual way for the viewers (and Yunho) to enjoy.

Yunho slapped his thigh, and you climbed onto his lap, slowly but surely sinking down on his length. You gripped onto his shoulders for stability and groaned as every inch of his cock disappeared inside of you.

His hands gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks in a beautiful way for the camera to see. The male helped you, as you rode him, not only by holding your hips and guiding you, but also by snapping his hips up against yours. Filthy slapping sounds along with the mixture of your moans echoed in the room, and the donations were reaching their peak.

"F-fuck baby you're s-so good, you're doing so well."

You gripped his shoulders harder, as his praises drew you closer and closer to your edge.

"They're c-close! Should we l-let them cum?"

It was impressive how professional Yunho was. How he looked so immersed in you, so tired and fucked out, with his fringe sticking to his forehead and eyes burning into your soul, yet he didn't forget to interact with the viewers.

There were many people leaning towards yes, begging to hear the way you sounded as you came, and so he worked hard until you screamed his name and tightened around his cock. He let you rest and recompose for a second, but the way you clenched around him made it impossible for him to hold it in any longer.

"Shit, get on the ground."

You gladly complied, and got on your knees for him, immediately sticking out your tongue, as you could predict what would come after.

Yunho jerked himself off to your fucked out face, and soon a string of curses came out of his mouth, as he spilled all over your face. He smirked and wiped some of his cum off of your face with his thumb.

"Say ah, pretty baby."

You smiled and opened your mouth. He inserted his finger in your mouth and you happily licked it clean.

Yunho cupped your face with his hand, and smiled.

"You behaved so well, I might have to reward you again."

His head tilted to the side, pointing to the couch, and you followed. You sat down on the couch, and Yunho knelt in front of you. His arms wrapped around your thighs and pulled you forward, so your hole would be of easy access to him.

The man teased you, as his tongue danced around your hole, not quite getting where you wanted him. You rolled your hips up, earning a slap to your inner thigh.

He looked up at you, with a hint of darkness in his eyes.

"Behave."

It didn't take long for you to get what you wanted, as he started tongue fucking you, with the help of his fingers. You gripped his hair, and your back arched as your high approached once more.

You came quickly, with his tongue still inside you, and he held your trembling legs and body, to keep you stable.

He didn't move for a second, giving you time to breathe and rest. After you had recomposed yourself, he helped you up, and the two of you shared a heated kiss, Yunho's hands never leaving your ass, that he definitely had a fixation with.

You finished the stream by thanking the viewers and donors and shut everything off. Once everything was done, you sighed and plopped onto the couch.

"Do you not want to shower?" Yunho questioned, as he saw the mess in your face and body.

You chuckled.

"Yes I do, very much, but I'm so fucked out..."

Yunho very kindly scooped you up.

"Well, I wouldn't want my guest to work too hard, I'll help you out."

#ateez #ateez smut #jeong yunho #yunho smut #jeong yunho smut #kpop #kpop smut #kinktober #ateez kinktober #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez gender neutral #ateez readder insert #ateez reactions #ateez reaction #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #ateez yunho smut #yunho ateez smut

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pyro-chaos · 3 years

Text

The Dim Lighting

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

*PICTURE NOT MINE*

Summary: With the additional population attributed to the prison after Woodbury's fall, your group was facing a rapid decrease in available supplies. You and Daryl had embarked on a quick supply run when Daryl shared something with you he hadn’t shared with others before.

Words: 11,185

WARNINGS: Lot’s of sexual innuendos. Mild smut, but no hot beef injection. Cannon violence. Otherwise, pretty much all fluff. Talk of scars.

Is this too much instant mashed potatoes for dinner? What if someone else needs the calories more? What if you eat like tomorrow's gonna be a big day, and you only do some minor ten-minute chores? Then you'll feel bad for taking someone else's portion of mashed potatoes.

You take a large scoop of the instant mashed potatoes from your plate and plop it back into the communally shared pot. Supplies were running short as it is. You didn't need more than a scoopful. Hopefully, there'd be leftovers tomorrow, and that'd be your 'filling' breakfast.

Due to the increased population at the prison, there wasn't a single supply that the prison wasn't running low on. It was common for someone to acquire a cut that needed a few stitches or break a bone after running through the woods and falling face-first into rocks, branches, and dirt. Medical supplies had begun to dwindle.

With the extra mouths to feed, food was being consumed faster than it was being produced. Weapons were used to keep protected when any quest included combat with walkers. With the increase in inhabitants, the demand for protection increased as well. Rick's been running around like a chicken with his head cut off. As the leader, most responsibilities fell on him.

Supply runs were never out of the question.

On the subject of diminishing resources, Rick suggested a casual supply run to a nearby mall. The name-brand department stores' clothing could be fashioned into makeshift splints, bandages, and reusable diapers for Rick's kid. If there was some kind of sporting goods store, there'd be a possibility for salvageable weapons. The kitchens in the food quart could be hiding unforeseen treasures, and the mall could be quickly cleared of walkers by a small party.

Daryl and yourself had been allowed to exit the safety of the prison on the notion you'd be back no later than the following day. Departing straight after waking would ensure you had a fair amount of time to gather supplies. You'd spend the night in the walker-infested territory and be back sometime the next day.

Daryl hadn't put his bike to use. Managing the cargo, milage, and whereabouts of two different vehicles would take an increased effort. Not to mention the fuel it would require. Plus, what if you found more supplies than the bike could carry? It wasn't worth it. Was that how Daryl thought of things? Or were you just vastly oversimplifying the nature of Daryl's actions? Either way, he wasn't putting the bike to use. Instead, he'd be the driver in a blue pick-up truck you'd been provided with to utilize for the run.

If Daryl had decided to take the motorcycle for a spin, you wouldn't complain. His biceps glowed when he gripped the handles. His muscles flexed as he'd put pressure on the acceleration or the breaks on the front handles of the mini-vehicle. Most of the time, the Georgia heat caused a light sheen of sweat to cover his skin. The sight prompted your throat to constrict and your mouth to water. A welcomed heat spreading throughout your body and radiating your most... concealed corners. The angel-winged vest tightened around his back as he directed the vehicle to go in whatever direction his biceps commanded. Driving the truck without him wouldn't be an issue. As long as you could enjoy the view.

Of course, you enjoyed being with Daryl as much as admiring him from a distance. The comfortable silence you allowed yourself to be engulfed in was just as rewarding as the gorgeous view of his well-developed arms.

Which brought you to where you were now. Staring at the various overgrown trees whiz by through the window.

Daryl had been keeping a steady hold on the steering wheel for the last couple of hours. He wore a sleeveless flannel and his black leather angel-winged vest. Due to the blistering heat the daytime provided, he'd ditched sleeves.

The sweat that came with the scorching weather was sticky, uncomfortable. Most of the time, it came with an unwelcome odor. Still, if the reward for powering through would be Daryl's glistening biceps, then you'd manage without Making any fuss.

Daryl's arms rippled as the man adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. Your fingers tingled and numbed simultaneously. A white-hot desire to - to feel him coursed through your palms to the tip of your fingers. The breath knocked clean out of your lungs. Your gaze slowly and tantalizingly traveled along the expanse of his tan skin. Taking in every blemish, every scar, and every mundane detail that made the skin his own. The man's hands gripped the wheel tightly, his grip shifted from time to time. Likely to keep the sweat from gathering on his palms. How hot was it outside? The air in the vehicle was undoubtedly cooler than the molten lava running through your veins.

Daryl's hands. Oh God, his fucking hands. They could hold onto something with a gentle tenderness you were surprised their build could offer. Then, they could ball into fists at a moment's notice and be used as a dangerous weapon against someone with the balls to challenge the man.

In more sensual scenarios, they'd been able to mind-numbingly twist, thrust, and flutter. Wherever Daryl's hands moved, heat followed. His fingers teased, gently dragging along your skin without pressing enough to properly satisfy. It left your skin tingling and overheating in anticipation. Your body writhing in the position he'd left you in. How could his hands be so attractive and so deadly at the same time?

You had explored the expanse of Daryl's skin that had been hidden away from others the same way he had with yours. More than once. There was no shame in admiring the gorgeousness of his features as long as spectators didn't tease. Embarrassment would make it hard to appropriately interact with others. Would Daryl be made uncomfortable? That was the last thing you wanted. However, if Daryl caught you staring, you'd be significantly less flustered.

The man's features had you sweating in nervousness, anticipation, and - something hotter. As long as you weren't making him uncomfortable, then you wouldn't be shy about voicing your attraction to the man you were attracted to.

"Keep starin'," Daryl moved his attention away from the asphalt, "I oughta do a trick."

Heat flooded into your cheeks from your neck to your ears. Without delay, you aimed your retinas to the clear windshield in front of you. How long since the paint had been repainted on the roads? How were the streets so mesmerizing after all this time? Oh, look a tree.

How the hell do you respond to that?

"Promise?" You quipped.

Your snark rewarded you with a side-eyed glare from the man before he returned his attention to keeping the car on the empty road. The man's lack of a witty remark caused your ego to inflate like a balloon. That's how you respond.

When the man's gaze was no longer on you, you turned your head to take in facial features. His forehead was covered by his chocolate-grown-out hair. He'd acquired a soft tan from being out in the sun every day. There weren't many clean, usable razors anymore. His facial hair had grown scruffy. His gaze had been fixed on the open road ahead of you.

Your gut filled with an odd... tingle, or was it a pull? Your heart swelled, pounded, and twisted all at once. The random wave of fondness almost made you order him to pull over to show him how much affection he really deserved.

"I...I like the way you look."

You turned your attention to the broken world outside the windshield. How awkward would it be if you continued to outwardly gawk at the man? You didn't want to find out. The random compliment you'd given enhanced the burning in your cheeks.

You may not be shy about voicing your obvious attraction towards the man, but that didn't mean you were immune to the awkwardness of being caught while staring.

Plus, you already needed a cold shower. You shouldn't fuel that fire right now.

You didn't see Daryl fiddle with his mouth as he snuck a glance towards you. You didn't get the opportunity to read the surprise behind his otherwise stoic expression. You'd caught the man off-guard with your compliment.

How - How should he react? Should he give you one back? That didn't... feel right. It would come out awkward and strained. What if what he said made you think he was a pervert? What was this strange twist in his nerves and heat in his bones?

If the swelling in his chest and the heat crawling up his neck were anything to go by, he didn't mind being on the receiving end of your affection.

What you did register was the moment Daryl took before scoffing and nudging your thigh with his large hand. You'd savored the light tingle Daryl's playful push had left on your thigh. The static spread a soft layer of goosebumps throughout your skin. Being alone with Daryl caused your body, mind, and hell, your soul to swell with affection.

As the blue truck pulled into the deserted parking lot, your fingers began to fidget with themselves. Your chin lowered, and your hand blindly reached for your hunting knife. If you pivoted and swerved correctly, the walkers in the parking lot could be evaded. How many walkers in the building? Would the building be vast enough for Daryl and yourself to move around comfortably? What if there were more walkers than expected?

Would the walkers in the mall herd up? God, you better hope they don't. A few could be taken out, a freaking herd? The undead in the parking lot didn't exceed more than ten. Not enough for the walkers to begin displaying herding behavior. The repercussions from the boom the firing of a gun usually came with wouldn't be worth the temporary gain. The waste of time it would be to erect and execute a plan in taking out the walkers wasn't worth the risk. As long as you didn't mess anything up while inside the mall, they wouldn't be a problem as you took your leave.

Daryl's blue pupils flipped in your direction before moving back to the outside world in front of them as he grabbed his pistol from the center console and cracked open the driver's-side door. You'd followed in suit. Opening the passenger's-side door and shutting it as quietly as possible. You took extra care in keeping your knees bent as you lightly duck walked towards the backseat of the car.

You pulled the handle, opening the backseat door and leaning into the vehicle. Handling Daryl's and your overnight packs. First, throwing Daryl's over your shoulders and then putting yours on over it. They'd been equipped with water canteens, a few meal bars each, and some extra ammunition—enough supplies for no more than a day. You'd also packed extra duffle bags. This was a supply run. If you'd hit the jackpot, different bags for the additional supplies would be helpful.

Holy fuck, since when was a couple of backpacks this heavy? The packs had two metal water bottles each. That couldn't be why holding your balance with additional weight on your shoulders caused you to lean forward. It couldn't be that, right? You'd thrown an extra carton of ammo in your pack on the way out of the prison. In all, that wasn't much.

When you'd equipped yourself with the packs, you shut the door slowly, taking care in being sure the door of the vehicle flushed with the rest. Daryl stepped in front of you. His crossbow was drawn as he surveyed the parking lot. You had stayed behind Daryl as he hastily led you to the row of entrances of the mall. You had your hunting knife drawn. You were prepared to stab skulls should the walkers get past Daryl's crossbow.

When you'd arrived at the blood-smudged glass doors, Daryl removed a hand from his crossbow and placed it on the pull-facing handle. He swiftly hauled open the door and turned towards the parking lot. He backed up against the glass, the hinges creaked, fueling the faint ring in your ears.

You quickly shuffled inside the building. Your heels off of the ground as much as possible as you promptly sidestepped past Daryl into the building. You were careful to stay out of the line of fire that Daryl's crossbow had been stationed towards. You figured getting shot with an arrow wouldn't help the supply situation back home.

You carefully, slowly, and quietly treaded further inside the abandoned mall. Keeping on your toes as much as possible. Preventing your heels from touching the filth-covered ground without losing your balance. You'd picked up on the habit of keeping your heels slightly raised from the floor to keep as quiet as possible on uncarpeted surfaces.

Your knife hadn't returned to its sheath. Instead of the blade pointing towards the sky as you held it, the sharp-end faced the floor. Your arms were raised to your breast. Your knife close enough to your chest to protect yourself, but far enough that fighting wouldn't be a problem. Your other arm positioned itself in front of your torso in a similar way to the knuckle wielding your weapon. You'd use your unarmed arm for protection and leverage rather than offense.

The mall had been abandoned for a while. The paint was caked in grime, blood, and other unidentifiable substances. The pair of escalators leading to and from the second story were covered in dirt. The usually clear glass rails that protected the steps were no longer evident. The ceiling was caving in. If you had to guess, you'd say the tiles and paneling had begun to fall onto the ground long before this place was discovered by your people. The stores were vacant, and the lack of illumination caused the unseen corners to appear as if a void had swallowed them whole.

What further unsettled you were the walkers within the building. From what you could see, there were four on the second story. They were clawing in your direction. Leaning and stumbling towards the newfound noises. Thank the fucking fences that some were too stupid to understand that the broken-down escalator would grant them passage to you. There were likely to be more, but you couldn't worry about that now. They weren't in your immediate vicinity, and there was the matter of more walkers moving towards you from the outside.

Daryl was doing his best to barricade the entrance to the mall. After all, this would be your place of residency for the night. Securing the openings as much as possible was a sensible choice. Even if the doors needed to be pulled from the outside, it was better safe than dead. What was a viable way to barricade the doors that wouldn't be permanent?

Malls usually contained movable seating. Places where people could sit while their company continued shopping. You'd often reclined on said seating areas when you shopped in malls before the apocalypse. You'd need to wait for your company in the hall because you'd get bored inside whatever department you'd been in before. The movable seating could be used for extra support for the doors.

When your gaze landed on the two eroded benches and mildly torn recliners across from the escalator, you quickly made your way to them from across the vacant hallway. A bench could be easily be moved. You'd need a recliner. A recliner may not have been the best long-term door-stopper, but it would suffice for the time you and Daryl needed.

As you closed the distance between yourself and the empty, unused recliners near the escalator, the sounds of the dead became louder. You didn't need to look up to understand the threat they posed when you'd travel up the stairs and search the top floor for possible supplies.

You tucked your knife in the waistband of your pants and braced your hands on the back of the recliner, and began to push it towards Daryl. You bent slightly over. Your arms directly in front of you as you dug your feet further into the floor and continued moving. The two backpacks dug into your shoulders, causing a slight strain in your muscles. As the chair gained momentum, you allowed yourself to speed up to a light power walk. You'd gotten to Daryl in no time.

When you arrived at his side, the man aided you in shoving the recliner against the glass door. The rest of the main entryways had been locked. Plus, if the walkers happened to have the strength to break the door open, the chair would make a skidding noise as they pushed it out of the way. Alerting Daryl or yourself about the oncoming threat.

You'd backed away from the door. The walkers who'd been aware of your presence in the parking lot had begun stumbling towards you, only to be caught on the transparent barrier. How many of them had piled up against the doors? One, two, three, four - whatever. They wouldn't stay forever. They wouldn't become strong enough to break the glass. Once they lost sight of you or something louder caught their attention, they'd be out of your hair.

Once Daryl was satisfied with the security of the front entrance, he backed towards you. He came to stand by your side as you untucked your knife from the waistband of your pants. The man scanned the main entrance before pulling his crossbow from his shoulder and pointing it towards the floor.

You turned on your heel and ventured further into the abandoned mall. Your gaze sweeping over the interior, "There's a couple of walkers on the second story. There's gonna be more - I can clear the top floor."

Daryl grunted halfheartedly, drawing his crossbow and aiming towards the groaning walker leaning on the railway. The arrow flew across the room quicker than your gaze could follow. When it hit the walker, its target immediately went limp. It tipped over the railing and fell to the floor with a disturbing splat without the extra back support. You could smell the rotting fluids that had been spattered all over the grimy marble floors.

He lowered his crossbow to the floor, pulling back the string that flung the arrows that were responsible for taking down what he'd aimed for.

"I got this floor, I'll check on the doors" He pulled an arrow from the quiver attached to the crossbow, "Make sure there ain't any secret entrances we gotta worry 'bout."

"Meet back here?"

Daryl's reply wasn't verbal. Instead, he grunted in confirmation and moved past you, his crossbow drawn. He was ready for any walker prepared to surprise him with a toothy smile when he turned the corner into the empty expanse of the mall.

"Hey, don't die" He removed a hand from his crossbow and waved you off, "Scream if something happens!"

Daryl moved farther from you.

"Don' hold your breath!" Daryl sassed from around the corner.

You smiled and made your way towards the offline escalator. Your knife was positioned to stab, slash, offend and or defend. You were ready.

-----

"Rotten, rotten, unusable, rotten," You listed off as you searched the walk-in refrigerator of the Dairy Queen in the rickety food quart. It smelled worse than your clothes, and your clothes were covered in rotting guts and blood.

The fridge was warm. There was no melted, rotting, putrid ice cream. Likely eaten before shit really hit the fan. If milk had been in the refrigerator, it had gone rancid long ago. The meat had browned and had appeared to be growing maggots for longer than Judith had been alive for. The fruit, lettuce, vegetables, and other perishables had grown rot, browned, and proceeded in their designated decomposition stages.

"The hell'd ya expect?"

Daryl had been bagging the kitchen knives that had been left behind. He'd taken his backpack from you after he'd finished searching for possible breaches in the entrances on the bottom floor. You didn't protest. Keeping your arms raised and flexed while holding the two packs had begun to cause your shoulders to lightly ache. The strain caused your aim to waver and your eyes to roll.

"Maybe some pickles," You answered haphazardly, shutting the door to the walk-in refrigerator.

You let out a long exhale and hooked your hands behind your head. Your fingers interlocked as you walked to where Daryl was stuffing the last handful of napkin-covered blades into the backpack.

"We should walk around, figure out what stores are here and what they might have"

"There ain't much."

You yawned, "Then we'll get creative,"

You untangled your fingers from behind your head and allowed them to fall to your sides. The overdrawn yawn allowed your muscles to pulse with temporary relief.

Daryl's gaze moved from his backpack to you. His brows were relaxed, and there was no trace of a frown on his lips. He didn't glare at you after your snide remark. He gave you a slight nod as he zipped up his backpack before slinging the bag over his shoulder. Then picked up his crossbow from where he'd set it leaning against the counter. Pushing off the counter to exit the Dairy Queen.

"I can get the bag. You have your crossbow."

He'd carried his primary weapon, now he was hauling around the bag as well. You only lugged your less-heavy backpack. The distribution of work It wasn't fair. You were able-bodied. You could help.

"Nah"

The man's path led him further away from the food quart. You'd spent valuable time rummaging through garbage in the kitchens hoping to find food or water. Daryl had found an abundance of kitchen knives, a fire blanket, and you'd found napkins. Napkins were flammable, and blankets would be in high demand when winter came. The kitchen knives would be suitable for training weapons or food preparation, much to your dismay, no food. Daryl carried the kitchen knives wrapped in the napkins. You had stuffed the fire blanket into your backpack.

"I'm good. I can carry something."

"There's a mattress shop aroun' this corner" He pointed to his left. Using the hand that wasn't currently holding the strap to his crossbow, "we could stay there for the night. Been a while since we slept on a real bed."

"We could tear a couple of them apart. Beds can have memory foam that could be good for something like bandaging or a... bleeder stopper."

"Bleeder stopper?" Daryl turned his head to you with his eyebrows slightly raised.

"Yeah, like thick gauze or a sponge."

Daryl stared at you for a long couple of seconds before shaking his head and turning his attention back to the path before him. You pursed your lips and continued to follow him on his way to the mattress store.

Wait, if you were planning on using materials in the store wouldn't it be better to change? Medical supplies were supposed to be sterile after all. If your clothes smeared blood all over the fabrics, the cleanliness of it would be compromised. Unclean cloth shouldn't be used for bandages or bleeder stoppers.

"We should clean up,"

"Clean up?" Daryl repeated. His tone was inquisitive and questioning.

"We're all bloody," you gestured to your shirt and the blood on his neck, "We shouldn't get the beds bloody."

"We're fine,"

"Ok. Well, I'm gonna change. This smells. I'll meet you at the mattress store."

"You don' know where it's at,"

"I'll find it," You reassured him as you began to speed walk towards a nearby Bath and Body Works. They carried shampoo. What would be the harm in checking it out?

Daryl resisted the urge to roll his eyes. You were living in an apocalypse. He didn't think hygiene should be very high on his list of priorities. So it wasn't. However, hygiene may be essential to you. You weren't content with sleeping in a bed with bloody clothes. Daryl couldn't blame you. He just didn't care about the grime as much as you did. When's a little dirt ever killed anybody?

You weren't worried about the possible threats that could still be lurking in the dark corners of the mall. You could protect yourself, and Daryl had already taken care of sealing all possible walker entrances. You would be safe without him.

The man wasn't convinced. He'd feel better if he was with you, keeping an eye on you. It didn't sit right with him that you'd be on the other side of the building. Hearing your screams would be more difficult than if he was right next to you. If something happened, he wouldn't be aware in time to help keep you alive. He'd follow you instead of allowing you to change without him. Keeping track of your safety would be easier that way.

You heard a loud scoff before heavy footsteps began to make their way towards you.

-----

"You should change too," You spoke from behind Daryl, pulling the new utility pants over your waist.

After you stuffed your backpack with shampoos, conditioners, lotions, and candles with various scents, you'd ventured into a sporting goods store. The former ship didn't disappoint. You'd found utility pants with a quick-drying military green material and more than four pockets, along with various other clothing items.

There'd be others at the prison that would enjoy a new pair of pants. Plus, the fabrics could be used for water filtration and reusable bandages.

You hadn't changed your bloody, wet, disgusting shirt yet. You'd change, pull out one of your additional backpacks and pack a few shirts along with the extra pants.

Daryl had been ruffling through the fishing gear about two yards away from you. The mall had been ransacked before you'd arrived. The gun rack was cleared out, fire equipment was nowhere to be seen, and any medical equipment had been rubut there were fishing hooks and some lines. Maybe there'd be bait. The prison was likely to be home to someone who could make do with the scarce fishing supplies.

You'd continue the search for supplies. You wouldn't leave any stone unturned.

"M' alright," Daryl said, stuffing a box of fishing hooks into his backpack.

"K, I'll just wash you up before bed."

You turned over to him and studied the expanse of his hair to his waist. How much grime would need to be scrubbed off before bed? He better not believe that dirty shirt was gonna keep with his skin as he slept.

"Might make you sleep without your pants."

"Yer jus' tryna get me naked," Daryl feigned seriousness, yanking a nearby t-shirt from its hanger and throwing it at you.

You caught it with two hands. It was your size. Did Daryl look through the shirts to find one for you, or had he just picked one up randomly? Did he pay attention to your sizes? Your heart jumped at the man's attentiveness. He did care.

You embarked on the quest of finding the sleeves. Once you found what you were looking for, you gripped the fabric using the shoulder sleeves and displayed the shirt in front of you. You scanned the clothing from the neckline to the hem. Assessing whether it was clean enough to change into.

When you were satisfied with the clothing item's quality, you threw the shirt onto a nearby clothing rack. You then slipped your shoulders from the backpack you'd been carrying all over the mall. The instant relief you felt from the newfound freedom of your shoulders almost made you let out a sigh of contentment. You lightly rolled your shoulders. Enough to butter the joints, but not enough to alert Daryl of your discomfort. The bag's heaviness had only increased with the candles and shampoos. You set the backpack on the floor, careful to avoid any bloody tiles.

You rolled the front of the shirt you'd been wearing into a scroll. Similar to a paper you'd roll up to smack someone over the head with. You then lifted the rolled hemline over your shoulders and pulled your arms from the sleeves. You'd scrolled-up the front of the shirt to avoid smearing walker guts all over your hair and face. It appeared to do the trick. You'd been able to undress without bathing in blood.

When you were officially shirtless, you flipped the shirt inside out and crinkled it up into a ball. Without properly aiming, you threw the shirt at an unsuspecting Daryl. Your aim wasn't exactly on point. The revolting fabric had ricochetted off his elbow before falling to the floor.

When he looked back at you with a glare lacking any actual malice or threat, you stuck your tongue out at him. He rolled his eyes and shook his head before returning his attention to the task he'd previously engrossed in.

You grabbed the shirt from the clothing rack you'd set it upon and began the process of clothing yourself.

Throughout the process of redressing, you didn't notice Daryl's side-eyed-stare directed towards you. Specifically, directed towards the parts of you that were.. uncovered. It wasn't often that he'd seen a pretty woman half-naked in front of him. You usually stuck to practicality over beauty. It was the apocalypse. So when he'd seen you without a shirt after throwing that rag at him. He had resisted the urge to shift in his tightening pants. After all, due to your lack of intentional provocativeness, it wasn't often you showed skin. When you did - Daryl's mind wandered.

He'd seen the things your body could do. He's - felt them. He's been under you as he watched your now, covered nipples perk under his attention. He's tasted the supple flesh that you'd been so adamant about covering in public. He's savored the taste of you as you dripped down his chin. He's indulged in your tongue's hidden talents - on more than one occasion. He's hovered over you as your chest pressed against his. He's felt your chest bounce with his unrelenting movements inside of you.

You only shared these moments with Daryl in private. He's only seen you when no one else was there to see you two with one another. Daryl didn't mind that. You trusted him enough to show him the most vulnerable parts of you, it made the strings of his heart pull, and his arms itch to wrap around you. He didn't expect you to flaunt your body if you didn't wish to. That being said, it wasn't often you'd undressed or showed any sensuality in public.

The rare times you did - Well, Daryl was still a man, and to him... You were an insanely attractive woman.

Daryl cleared his throat. Moving a hand to his crotch and adjusting himself, holding back the pleasured sounds building in the back of his throat. He tore his gaze away as your breasts were covered by the clean shirt he'd thrown at you. He hadn't expected you to redress in the item. He'd thought he was poking fun at you with what you'd been so particular about. He didn't expect you to give him such a gratifying show.

He'd been glad you did.

"Sporting goods store," You absentmindedly voiced, "Lanterns?" As you unpacked an extra duffle from your backpack, you kept your vision trained on Daryl.

The man needed a moment. You weren't always aware of the effect you had on other people. Daryl had to remember that you weren't trying to turn him on.

"Probly" The man's voice was strangely deep and gravelly as you set the extra bag on the floor and held up the original bag with the other.

You nodded in his direction before taking a handful of the same utility pants you'd changed into and stuffing a few pairs into your awaiting backpack. You grabbed another few pairs and stuffed them further into the sack before ultimately deciding what you'd captured had been enough. You then moved to the other side of the store and repeated the process with T-shirts and other wilderness clothing.

Daryl released a long breath and continued his search for more supplies.

-----

You scooped up the last of the memory foam as Daryl pulled out the supplies from the duffles you'd filled throughout the day. He'd already finished securing the mall fence enough to be safe for your overnight stay. Small establishments in malls were all equipped with private gates. When it was closing time, the gate could be pulled down, and that'd be the closing sign for the night. Now the gates would help keep out walkers.

Which is precisely what you'd use them for.

The sky had begun to darken—the sun disappearing behind the horizon. Walkers began to populate the parking lot outside of the mall. Daryl and yourself had vertically flipped mattresses before piling them against the gates. Then, you both had taken apart a bed and used the fabrics and frames to cover the gaps in the built-in gate. If there were any breaches in other areas of the mall, the mattresses would keep you and Daryl out of the sight of the intruding walkers.

Plus, You'd convinced Daryl that the memory foam inside would serve well as poor-man medical supplies. You'd left two mattresses for yourselves and carved out whatever memory foam would fit into the bag you and Daryl hadn't already packed.

"Lotions?" Daryl questioned as the ruffling of a bag sounded through the small, empty space you'd inhabit for the night.

"Yep, Women at the prison would like the lotion. It smells good, and keep a bottle of shampoo out."

Now, where was the zipper? Your hands traveled along the expanse of a memory foam-filled bag. When your palm caught the opening, your fingers followed the cool, bumpy metal. They discontinued their path when they found and grabbed hold of the tiny handle that would allow the bumps to click together and complete the packing process. With one hand, you held the two ends of the stuffed bag together. With the other, you pulled the tiny zipper handle along the path of the jagged metal lines and sealed the duffle while staring into the deep, dark void ahead of you.

Another zipper being zipped killed the silence that followed Daryl's quietness. The noise of the zipper had signaled he'd been finished rifling through your bag. You turned your head in his direction. Well, where you thought his direction would be.

Another zipper. This time being... Unzipped? Had he unzipped a second bag, or had he rezipped the bag he'd been rifling through earlier? He had your bag. Your bag contained a flashlight. Is that what he was searching for? It should be. If a hand was in front of you, the dark void cast over your eyes would make it impossible to register it.

You placed your hands on the cool floor in front of you. Performing a light sweep to clear your path. When your hands collided with no further obstacles, you proceeded to shift your weight. Your hands supporting your head and shoulders as you moved your knees to prop the second half of your body up.

You slowly itched forward. Your hand settling on an area further in front of you and your opposite knee following in suit.

For animals, the loss of vision meant death. If a mouse couldn't see, how would it find its food? How would it make its way through a structure without being caught by a predator or stumbling into something dangerous?

Before the apocalypse, human blindness could be worked with and still be survived. Now, the loss of vision was just as much of a death sentence as a bite. Blindness ensured that you wouldn't have the necessary sense to save yourself when a walker was on top of you. If you'd taken the route of running, where would you run to? What if a separate walker intercepted your path, but you were blind to the obstacles in the way of survival?

The darkness you were in the middle of was a void. A void that swallowed your every sound and crushed your lungs. Fingers... Rotten fingers clutched your upper arm. More of them moving onto the cold skin of your cheek. Your arms shook, your brow furrowing, and your eyes clamping shut. Where was the sound? Where was Daryl?

Where is anything? Where are your arms? They're gone... So are your legs. Where is the air? You can't find the air. If there's no air, you'll suffocate. If you suffocate, who'll help Daryl get the bags back to the prison? Where is the prison? You can't die now. You have to help Daryl. People at home are relying on you to provide supplies. Please not yet. No, this can't happen.

Your muscles clenched around your bones tightly enough to shatter them. The world was pitch black, and the roaring of blood in your ears dampened your ability to comprehensibly hear. It was a perfect time for the hands to drag you into the bottomless pits of despair, death, and self-undoing. How would you stop them? How could you fight and live to tell the tale?

The warm, rotten flesh of the hands smoothed along your skin, moving down your arms and your wrists, your weapon wielders. The hands were here to take away your primary defense method before feasting on your live flesh and taste the warmth of your blood.

Wait... Warm? Since when do the hands of walkers, of death bringers bear... warmth?

Light entering your sealed retinas caused your head to whip up from its slumped-over position between your shoulders. Light? If you were blind, would you be able to see the light? Were you dead? You had to be. The light was chasing away the darkness. The hands had withdrawn, and the pressure was disappearing from your bones. If this was the afterlife, then it was safe to open your eyes, right? You were dead. Nothing could kill you when you were dead.

When your eyelids lifted, Daryl was in the process of backing away from the dimly lit lantern and moving towards you for the second time. His arm outstretched, his hand returning to your cheek graciously and lightly, featherily stroking your skin.

"Are you dead too?"

Daryl's head slightly tilted, his brow furrowing, "Nah,"

The man's other hand moved to the nape of your neck. As if grounding you to him instead of allowing you to float away. Keeping the shadows from swallowing you after you drifted into the voidian abyss, melting into the dark to never be seen or heard from again.

"You ar'ight?"

A deep inhale and a deeper exhale. You weren't dead. The hands were capable of pulling heads from their shoulders, but they were cradling you so gently. How could you not feel safe? They weren't here to drag you into the bottomless pits of despair, death, and self-undoing. They were here to break you away from the paralyzing fear that came with the dark in the apocalypse.

Daryl's exhales fanned across your face. You only needed to lean forward a couple of inches, and your lips would touch. His facial hair had whisps of gray. Grime, blood, and grease caked his shoulders down to his collarbone. His eyes, his eyes were a mesmerizing Caribbean sea blue. If you stared for too long, the waves of his iris' would swallow you, and you'd never return to reality ever again.

If it weren't for the dirtiness in his skin, you would have allowed yourself to drift off into the sea of his gorgeous blue eyes.

"You kept a bottle of shampoo out?"

Daryl moved away from you, picking up a plastic bottle from behind him. As he held the bottle out to you, you shifted your weight to rest on your knees. You sat in an upright position, your hands being freed from the burden that came with keeping your shoulders upright.

You accepted the shampoo held in Daryl's hand, "Get me a water bottle,"

He nodded before moving behind him and ruffling through an opened bag.

"Then stand up and take off your clothes."

The shuffling of the bag was put to an abrupt end, Daryl's light tuffs of air freezing in time along with the movements of his muscles. His breath caught in his throat, and his mind raced with possible meanings behind your words. Did you just tell - order him to strip? What did you mean? Were you trying to undress him to embark on a sexual fantasy that involved... him?

"I'm not trying anything... sexy. I just refuse to sleep with you when you're caked in -" You gestured from Daryl's waist to the tip of his head "- That"

Daryl furrowed his brows and inspected the areas of his body you'd gestured to. His skin was its usual color. His clothing was normal. Was it not? Was the sleeveless too coolly dressed for the occasion? Was he sweaty? Did he spill something all over himself during breakfast? What the hell did you mean? You'd slept in worse conditions back at the Quarry.

"M' Fine"

"Yes, you are, but that's a fresh mattress when we've been sleeping on prison cots" You tip-toed to the gutted mattress adjacent to the untainted bed, "We should... savor it."

Daryl's brow relaxed, his shoulders sagging as his gaze fixed itself on your hopeful expression. You weren't... wrong. A nice, soft, genuine bed would do wonders for his back as he rested his eyes for the night. When was the last time you'd gotten a good night's sleep - together? Your methodical breathing lulling him into a sense of foreign safety. The sensation of your skin against his as he pressed his lips against your bare shoulder.

A quiet inhale and a longer exhale.

What was there for Daryl to lose or gain? If he removed his clothing in front of you... You'd wash him? The concept caused his head to spin and a scoff to rise in the back of his throat. Why wouldn't he? But why would he? It was a stupidly long process for a temporary gain.

You wanted to wash him. You would clean the dirt from his skin, so enjoying the night on a bed would be more... comfortable. To you, the lack of grime would make the experience more relaxing and feel less like the apocalypse. Allowing you to wash him would give you... satisfaction right? Taking his clothes off in front of you, letting you use the shampoo on his skin... Would make you happy? A frown pulled at his lips. He didn't want to do any of this. Couldn't he just sleep in the bed? A little dirt never hurt anybody.

Although, on his part, a small sacrifice would be worth your glee. That's all taking his clothes off would be, right? A small thing. He wasn't... exposing himself in front of you. Not at all. He was just keeping his clothes from being wet through the night. He wasn't... doing anything he hadn't done before.

Except he was. Naked sex was chasing an orgasm without clothing on. No one was staring or assessing appearances. If Daryl stripped in front of you without being in a situation where you'd been focusing on pleasuring one another, then you'd - see him. What if you didn't like what you saw? What if, after seeing him, you realized you didn't want him as much as you did before?

Daryl's dick brought you pleasure. That much was obvious. You'd never leave him for any incapabilities in sexually satisfying you, but what if you prefer the way someone else looked? Daryl's facial hair was scruffy, his eyes were often bloodshot, and his skin was rough compared to yours. He didn't bring home flowers or groceries. He was more qualified to take life on a motorcycle rather than life in a minivan. What if, after taking in what he had to offer, you decided he wasn't worth it?

"You could keep your underwear on."

Instead of replying, he fished a water bottle from his backpack and shrugged off his angel-winged vest. He was going to... let it happen. Daryl wanted you to belong to him, all of you. He longed for the mornings he could wake up cradling you in his arms. He'd never been willing to listen to someone so intently as much as he'd been with you. He wanted to be yours as much as he wanted you to be his. If he was going to... act upon that, he needed to be willing to do things like this, no matter how out of his comfort zone it was.

When he stood up and took in your position, he was pleasantly surprised to see you... without a shirt. Why were you without a shirt? Seeing you without the cloth covering your skin was both a dose of courage and an immense turn-on, but that didn't explain your lack of a shirt.

You bent down and retrieved a small memory foam patch from the bed. Your utility pants tightening around your ass was a sharp punch to the gut. The tightening in his pants was a reminder that Daryl wasn't fully undressed. He brought his thumb to his mouth and lightly began chewing on the skin there. Daryl moved his hand back to his side when you straightened your back, but he continued fiddling with the nail. Daryl had to remove his trousers and the shirt before the washing could... happen.

Fuck he hated this. Not only was it vastly uncomfortable, but it was pointless. Daryl was just going to get dirty again tomorrow. Why would he need to be washed today? Just for a nice night in a bed? He wasn't drunk enough for this. It was pointless and time-consuming.

When you turned around and stuffed the memory foam padding into one of your pockets and stuffed the other with the bottle of shampoo, Daryl's mental turmoils calmed to disagreeing whispers. You were gorgeous. The faint light of the lantern caused a soft golden glow to encapture the beauty of your skin. Your exposed curves and edges were viewable to him and only him. When your eyes found his blue iris', any whispers of protest in his mind were instantly put to rest.

Your eyes were so... encapturing. The colored pupils were so intense and soft at the same time. They bared into Daryl's eyes with innocence and adoration that was utterly, wholly foreign to him. No wonder he would do something like this for you. All you had to do was maintain eye contact with him, and he'd bend over backward as long as those orbs would continue to gaze at him with such pure devotion.

When your hands began to slowly and sensually unbuttoned his flannel from the neckline, any possible regret flowed from his body quicker than the blood flowing to his crotch. Daryl fiddled with his mouth, his teeth softly grinding together.

When his flannel was unbuttoned, the breaths coming from his brief exhales filled the silence in the room. The hairs at the back of his neck stood on end. The faint glow of the lantern only fueled the warmth flowing like magma in his veins. Your fingers delicately caressed against his sides before pushing back the fabric of his flannel, exposing Daryl's midsection.

When you were satisfied with your work on his waist, you dragged your hands up his sides, leaving a trail of goosebumps on his abdomen. The man's breath was shallow and weak. His heartbeat raced and thumped erratically. Your palms slithered under the cloth hanging on his shoulders. You softly kneaded the skin below the flannel, then trailed your hands down his shoulder blades and down to his elbows. The flannel slipped down his wrists, where he caught it and threw it into the gutted mattress for safekeeping. Letting it fall to the floor would defeat the entire purpose of this... experience.

Your chin rose to stare into the vast oceans of Daryl's eyes as you softly unbuckled his belt. The metal clinking together only fueled the burning hot tension filling the scent of the air. Your gaze was meek, innocent, and almost apologetic as you unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped the fly. Daryl's breath was knocked clean from his lungs as your hands circled around his waist to his lower back and slipped your thumbs into the belt loops. When you pulled the denim over the curve of his ass, the man's muscles tightened around his frame, his knuckles balling into fists. Your tugging was met with faint resistance when the hemline of Daryl's pants went below his hips. It hadn't proved to be a problem as you circled your hands over his sides. Your attention turning from his eyes to his lower body. Your fingers digging into his front pockets as you gave one last slow tug, his denim pooling at his ankles.

You lifted your chin, initiating eye contact with Daryl a second time. You ran your hands down his forearms and wrapped your fingers around the neck of the water bottle, then you softly drew the bottle out of his already fragile hold. Daryl's eyes searched through the vast expanse of your iris' as you backed away from your previous almost chest-to-chest position. His fingers tingled with the urge to keep you close. His chest ached to feel your curves press against his bare skin. Daryl was done waiting. He was done teasing. What would he gain by further delaying his urges?

The man bent down and unhooked his pants from his ankles, stumbling away from the denim unceremoniously. When he was free from the pants, he threw them in the same direction he threw his flannel. He didn't waste any time seizing you by the waist and molding your chests together. Pressing his half-hard crotch against your pelvis and attaching his lips to your neck, savoring the unique flavor of your skin.

A strike of white-hot pleasure shot from the pit of your stomach to the tip of your clit. Daryl's tongue peeked from behind his lips and quickly darted out of his mouth for a quick taste of your neck. The action caused a tuff of pleasured air to escape your lungs. You wrapped your arms around the man's neck, the hand free of the water bottle reached to the back of his head and gripped the hair at the bottom of his scalp, giving a soft, experimental tug. Daryl's deep, gravelly groan was followed by a jump in his pants and an expansion of the tent forming in his boxers.

"We-" You were cut off by a gentle nip to your neck, "We don't have any condoms."

"So?"

Daryl's hand moved from the top of your waist to your lower back, resting at the hem of your pants.

"So we can't... do it."

"Can't do what?" Daryl moved his lips to the skin just under your earlobe. A harsh bite to the sensitive skin of your neck caused your back to arch further into his chest and the muscles of your lower body to clench around nothing. You needed to hold a boundary. You weren't going to risk having a kid... the man pressed against you wasn't making it easy to say no.

"We can't fuck Daryl."

He replied with a slow, heavy thrust into your core. His hips moving back before slamming into yours so forcibly that it sent a whimper of pleasure to rip itself from your lips. His hands traveled around the bare skin of your back. Starting from the bottom of your lower spine and pausing at the strap of your bra. When he slipped a finger between your skin and the stretchy material. The entirety of your skin erupted in an all-consuming flame, goosebumps traveling throughout your body.

Condoms be damned. Who needs protection, right? As long as Daryl pulls out instead of finishing inside you, the chances of pregnancy were low. You wanted him now. You wanted the pulsing of his cock inside of you as huffs, and quiet grunts of pleasure filled the air of the closed-off mattress store. You slipped your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, prepared to pull them down, and proceed with the deed.

That's when Daryl decided he didn't want to pulse inside of you. The man pulled away from your body. Unlatching his lips from below your ear and moving his arms back to his sides. With the lack of the man's body heat, the air around you was cold and empty. Your skin was no longer radiating heat, and the tingle between your thighs began to cool down.

"Wh-"

"Well, come on," Daryl gestured to his chest, "ya said you wou'dn't sleep with me 'till I was clean."

You gaped at him, your jaw pulled to the floor and your eyes wide. This cheeky little - not little - this cheeky fucker was going to use your words against him? That... wasn't fair. Ok, if he was going to be like that, you would just wash him then. You wouldn't try your attempts at seducing him or beg him to fuck you into the mattress. You were just going to wash him up and go to sleep. It was ok that you weren't getting fucked tonight. Sleeping was nice too. You wouldn't play into his game by playing into his game.

You unscrewed the water bottle, stuffing the top into your back pocket. You stepped closer to Daryl, your chests only inches apart. His eyes followed your every move as if you were a snack he wasn't patient enough to wait for. His predatory gaze sent shivers down your spine and strikes of pleasure to shoot like lightning between your legs.

Your unoccupied hand unveiled the memory foam sponge you planned to use to scrub his skin from any grime or potential dirtiness. With your eyes trained on the man's collarbone, you brought the water bottle above Daryl's shoulder and poured the water over his chest. The droplets cascaded down his chest, dripping down every edge, curve, and divot his skin had to offer.

Your throat had begun to dry. Imagine if you could just - lick the water from Daryl's chest to his collarbone. The liquid dripping from the man's skin would undoubtedly serve in purging the thirst rising in the back of your throat from the rather heated atmosphere. Too bad the water was mixed with dirt, sweat, and blood.

You poured water over the memory foam, drenching the surface before squeezing the contents over Daryl's midsection, wetting his skin to allow the soap to be put to proper use. Next, you had to uncap the bottle of shampoo.

When you'd unclicked the switch nozzle thing on the top of the bottle, you poured a sizable glob of shampoo onto the spongy memory foam before kneading the suds into the mattress material.

When you were satisfied with the results, you slapped the soapy foam onto Daryl's chest. Your lips quirked up, and a slight sound of amusement rose to the back of your throat as wetness spattered around the area of impact. Daryl's moved his neck, shying away from the suds that had been launched in different directions.

How long would it take to scrub away the dirt caking his surface? Daryl wasn't a piece of Tupperware that one could harshly scrub before throwing into a dishwasher. The man was a human being who had skin and bones and flesh. Bathing him utilizing the vanilla-scented shampoo would be an art, not a science. You wouldn't treat this as if you were washing a car. You'd treat this as if you were lightly polishing an antique sword you'd save for generations to come.

You softly swiped the soapy memory foam across Daryl's wet bicep. The suds turning from white to a dull brown as you continued to knead his flesh beneath the soft material. The man allowed his arms to be gently handled and caressed as you softly worked the grime off his skin from his shoulder to his wrist. Daryl wasn't just aesthetically pleasing or sexually astounding. He was a person so good and so unknowingly worthwhile. How many times had his hands defended something with such magnitude that afterward, they hurt? How often did he risk them to collect supplies for someone important enough to him to warrant his consideration and protection?

The scent of vanilla swirled in the air as you rinsed away the browned suds from his limbs. The beautiful pale of his skin revealing itself through the thick layer of dirt that once covered his original tone. When the skin of his front was clear of any foreign substances, you threw the shampoo-soaked memory foam into a random unoccupied corner. Then, you rinsed the residual suds off of your fingers before screwing the water bottle shut and setting it onto the nightstand Daryl had set the lantern upon. The shampoo bottle had been carelessly thrown to the floor after you'd drenched the makeshift sponge.

Without further ado, you turned your attention to the vast oceans of Daryl's eyes before hooking your wet hands behind his head and pulling his lips to yours. It's why you'd removed your shirt earlier. You'd wanted the option to press yourself against the man without dampening your new top.

Daryl's hands slithered around your waist. His left arm itching dangerously down your lower back as his right hand moved to cradle the back of your neck. You softly caressed his lips with yours, careful to be firm but not harsh enough to clash teeth. Your skin erupted in excitement as you fisted Daryl's hair, tingles moving down your spine as you savored the feeling of the man arching into you. After pulling you further into his chest, Daryl licked your bottom lip before tilting his head to further deepen the kiss.

You ran your hands down his neck and to his shoulders, softly gripping the joints as Daryl's tongue freely explored your mouth. His fervor caused your heartbeat to pound erratically and your lower muscles to twitch in anticipation. When you ran your hands down his shoulder blades, Daryl's lips detached themselves from yours, his arms moving to rest around your waist.

The man's blue orbs peered into your eyes with such a welcoming intensity. He studied not only you - but your very soul. His gaze hadn't wavered, and his body was stiff as a board under your fingertips. You stared back, your watch lacking the same intensity but unwavering nonetheless. Daryl pursed his lips and closed his eyes. He moved his forehead to rest on yours as his knuckles tightened into fists behind you. Was he ok? Had something happened?

Before you could verbalize your worry, Daryl's forehead removed itself from yours as his arms unwound themselves from around your back. You tilted your head as your own arms fell from his shoulders. The previous warmth of Daryl's skin leaving an empty coldness on yours. Was something wrong?

Daryl took a long exhale before turning around. He stood before you with his back turned to your front. You were puzzled at; first, your brows furrowed as he turned his head to lightly peer at you expectantly.

You hadn't washed his back. You'd left the area untouched. What if he didn't want to be touched there? And if you did, What if it made him uncomfortable? Daryl was already uncomfortable with the idea of you bathing him the way that you had. You didn't want to add to his discomfort directed towards a situation you'd put him in. So, you didn't say anything about washing that area of him.

Was that what he was prompting you to do?

Your mind span from the influence of the high Daryl gave you. He had been willing to bare himself in front of you so openly. The adoration swelling in you from his willingness to be so voluntarily vulnerable with you was almost overwhelming. The raw affection stirring in the pit of your belly knocked your breath from your lungs and chased away the coldness left from Daryl's skin departing from yours.

You bent over to retrieve the water bottle, your gaze never moving from his.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Daryl huffed out a scoff, "Jus' get on with it, woman."

His continuation to sass you pulled a slight smirk from your lips that disappeared after you broke eye contact with him. Your gaze moved to scan the flesh of his back. In the dim lighting the lantern provided, Daryl's skin glowed like a golden sunset after the sun disappeared behind the horizon. The curves of his shoulder blades and spine shifted along with the movements of his lungs and limbs. Scarred tissue was littered throughout the skin of his back like strokes of fresh paint on an artist's canvas. There was something poetic about his scars. You shouldn't romanticize the man's pain, but his marks weren't... frightful. Not that scars were frightful, but his spoke so much louder than any of yours.

The scars were proof that Daryl wasn't dealt an easy hand throughout his life. The man may have lived around harsh circumstances throughout his development, but somehow, he grew into something so caring, so beautiful, so - good.

Daryl was a rose that grew from concrete, and the former wounds were proof that he'd lived through hardships that molded him into something that made him different from others. His scars were proof that he was resilient. His personality and strength were evidence that he could produce the thorns responsible for protecting both himself and those he valued.

You unscrewed the cap of the water bottle after you picked the shampoo bottle up from the floor. The lantern's soft glow highlighted every indent on the slightly raised skin of Daryl's scars. The dim lighting caused his tattoo design to seem as if a shaped shadow had settled over his shoulder blade. His back was a painted canvas. Every detail becoming more and more authentically, beautifully, unique the longer your gaze traveled over his skin.

Daryl's gaze hadn't left the dark corner in front of him throughout your preparation for the... washing. The lack of physical contact on his back caused his palms to sweat and the thump of his heart to overpower all other sounds present in the room. What were you doing back there? Why was he dumbly standing here if you weren't going to finish the process of washing him?

Of course, he should have known better than to think you wouldn't be appalled by the sight of his scarred skin. After all, what kind of man lets something like this happen to him? How could you be attracted to him when you deserved something so much better? You probably didn't even want to touch him anymore. There was nothing about him that was attractive, and now you'd figured it out too.

Before he could growl a strained, 'forget it.', cold water spilled over his shoulders and spread a layer of goosebumps over his arms. A shallow breath escaped his lungs. Daryl lowered his head in the direction of the floor, shutting his eyes as your hands made contact with the back of his shoulders. The scent of vanilla that invaded his nostrils and the tingle of your palms tenderly dragging from his shoulder blades to his back with a gentle firmness caused shivers to sprint down his spine. Your fingers stroking his skin smoothed his intense waves of uncertainty and regret into a calm serenity and relief.

This was the first time he'd ever displayed himself so willingly. He hadn't expected it to be so... alleviating. He'd never showed anyone such raw vulnerability before. It wasn't easy; it made his palms sweat, his limbs turn to lead, and his heartbeat had begun to rush erratically. But, in the end, letting someone see him was a heavy, crushing weight being lifted from his shoulders.

His scars weren't something he hid, but they weren't something he allowed people to see. They were a part of himself that he had no interest in sharing with others... but now he was sharing it with you. He trusted you, wholly, implicitly, unconditionally. It made sense that he'd shown you a feature of himself that he wasn't proud of. You didn't treat that feature with the same harshness he treated it with, nor were you as astonished as someone like Merle when your eyes were met with the discolored skin on his back. It was a breath of fresh air he hadn't known he'd needed.

Your reaction wasn't a reaction. You didn't say anything... consoling, hell, you didn't say anything. You just continued kneading the grime off of Daryl's back. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, but it was tense. Packed with an unspoken emotional intensity that neither of you had addressed, but what was there to say? Should Daryl thank you for what you were doing? It would come out forced and strange. If you were to say anything about his scars, Daryl wouldn't respond. What could be said without driving a wedge between each other? The silence was better.

You poured the last of the water in the bottle over the backend of Daryl's shoulders. The brown suds spattering onto the floor and revealing a lighter skin tone on Daryl's back. The man remained in his place, as still as a statue. If it wasn't for the light fidgeting of his thumbs and the bowing of his head, you would have assumed he was one. Your lip quirked up as you wrapped your arms around the man's waist from behind. Pressing a quick peck to the divot in his spine between his shoulder blades.

"Can we go to sleep now?"

Your grip loosened on the man as he turned in your arms. Daryl lifted an arm to rest on your hip. The two of you were chest-to-chest as you closed the space between the two of you. Resting your head on his body and locking your hands together behind his back. Daryl's arms moving to interlock behind you.

"Mhm," Daryl grunted.

The warmth of Daryl's skin radiated yours as you clung to his chest. The heat spreading a pleasant satisfaction from your skin to the tips of your fingers. Couldn't you stay awhile? Just like this? Daryl was so warm, and the ache in your shoulders began to spread throughout your body, and the heat of Daryl's was the only comfort you'd found. Your eyelids weren't as light as they used to be when you blinked.

A light, playful tap to your ass startled you awake. Since when had you closed your eyes?

"Putchur shirt back on."

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feathersandfoxtails · 2 years

Text

Pass Back Through the Heart, Chapter Eleven

Pairing: Lee Scoresby/reader Rating: EXPLICIT (18+ ONLY) Warnings for this chapter: sex Words: 3.5K Summary: As Lee heals, you grow closer

also on AO3

The first night you stay in bed with Lee, but the next you make yourself a space on the floor next to him. As he watches you put down the blankets, you can see him beginning to pout. Instead of being annoyed, it just makes you amused, which you try to hide.

“You don’t have to sleep on the floor, you know.”

“I worry about bumping your wounds at night. This will give us both a little bit of space.”

He grumbles as you go into the bathroom to change. When you return he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you to help him. He can’t move very far without leaning on you for support, so you escort him to the bathroom.

As you take his arm from your shoulders, he says, “You know, I could use some help in there…”

You point your finger at him. “Don’t push your luck, cowboy.”

He chuckles and closes the bathroom door.

That night you awaken to the sound of Lee groaning. You kneel on the bed and put the back of your hand on his forehead, checking for a fever.

“Do you need something more for the pain?” He nods and you find more of the ground up root Kalluk left for him. After you mix it with water, he drinks it and settles back down.

“I sleep better with you up here.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re a giant baby.”

Turning his head, he gives you a pleading look. You hate that you’re a sucker for those doe eyes. So you climb in next to him, wrapping an arm around his torso. When you look up at him a moment later, you swear he has a smug smile on his lips.

The next morning after you’ve had breakfast with Lee, you pull on your boots to check in with your new friends.

“What am I supposed to do all day?” Lee mopes on the bed.

“I left you a stack of books within reach.”

“Can’t I go outside with you? I can’t stand being cooped up in here all day!”

“You have to heal, Lee. Which means not moving around and tearing your stitches.”

Hester chimes in, “Listen to her; she’s trying to do what’s best for you even if you don’t care.”

“You never can take my side, can you, rabbit?”

“If you get out of that bed I’ll walk as far away from you as I can and then you’ll wish you’d stayed in bed.”

Lee crosses his arms and sticks out his bottom lip.

“I’ll come back for lunch!” you call as you and your daemon step out the door.

Immediately you have to squint your eyes against the blinding brightness of the sun bouncing off the snow. The village is about as bustling as it ever gets, with people starting their days off. Most of the people you see nod or smile at you as you pass. You’re starting to recognize faces even if you haven’t learned their names yet. A small child runs past you, but stops and stares at you. You give them a small wave, but their eyes get wide and they run off.

You spend the morning sorting and grinding herbs with Kalluk. Once she shows you what to do, she doesn’t talk much. Which suits you just fine—you find the silence of working in the same room comforting. Later you chop wood and then help mend a roof. The community has welcomed you and Lee and being able to feel like you are repaying them puts your mind at ease. The house you’re staying in is reserved for guests, so you’re thankful to not feel like you’re imposing too much.

After the first two days your fear that the Magisterium will burst through the clouds in airships subsides. You start to think that either they couldn’t find you or they didn’t try. If they’ve decided you and Lee are not worth pursuing, it would make both of your lives much easier. But you know you’ll probably be looking over your shoulder for a long time.

The days pass slowly with you trying to earn your keep in the village and Lee recuperating in bed. After a few days Lee is better able to move around on his own but not walk very far. Since he’s going a little stir crazy, you find some small tasks for him. One day you bring him strips of leather to braid into ropes, which it turns out he’s very good at.

“Years of ranch work in Texas.” He goes on to tell you stories from his younger days back home which have you laughing and cringing at various points. As you ask him questions, you notice he skirts around anything to do with his family. You drop that subject as you can guess his early home life was probably a lot like your own, which would explain how you both ended up far from home and always on the move.

Tonight he’s been sitting at the table for quite a while, so you order him back to bed. Though he complains as usual, he follows your instructions. When you bring a candle for the bedside table, he quietly says, “There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”

His voice sounds too serious and it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “Okay.” You pull the chair up next to the bed.

“I do remember a little bit after I was shot.”

“What do you remember?”

He looks down at his lap and puts his hand on Hester. “You picked her up.”

At the memory, you feel the blood drain from your face. “I’m so, so sorry, Lee. I didn’t have a choice.”

“No, I know. It felt—”

“I know how it felt—that man who grabbed my daemon, it felt like absolute shit. I didn’t want to do that to you, I promise.”

“I told you someone had touched Hester before and how awful it felt.”

“I know; I wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t completely necessary, I promise.”

“It didn’t feel like that.”

You blink rapidly. “What… what do you mean?”

“It was… different.”

You shake your head. “I don’t understand.”

“It didn’t hurt, not like before.” He takes a deep breath before finally looking at you. “When you held her, it was like you were holding me. You were holding me— keeping me safe. But it also felt… incredible.”

You can’t seem to form words or even thoughts. The only thing that comes out is, “But why?”

“I think because it was you. If it was anyone else, even if they were trying to help us, it wouldn’t have been the same.”

“I don’t—”

He swiftly grabs your hand and brings it to his chest. “Will you do it again?”

You snatch your hand back, disgust creeping through you at the request. All your life you had been taught never to touch another person’s daemon. You had only done so out of necessity to save Hester and by extension Lee. Everything feels wrong about this; how can Lee ask you such a thing?

But then Hester looks up at you and for a moment you find yourself dazzled by her eyes. Though her fur is plainly colored, her eyes are the most unusual gold-brown color with flecks of green. They are the color of the sun’s reflection on a lake or the ground right after a snowmelt. You’ve always thought she is beautiful, but never before had you allowed yourself to just stare into those eyes. The only other eyes that have ever captivated you so belong to her human.

“It’s okay,” Hester tells you. She inches closer to you.

You look to your own daemon, who has crawled into your lap. He burrows under your arm and nods to you. Lee slowly moves your hand towards Hester, letting it hover above her head. She flattens her ears against her head and closes her eyes. As you gulp, you take over and bring your hand down to her.

As soon as you touch her, Lee lets out a moan. You try to take your hand away, but Lee’s hand is still covering yours, keeping it in place. Looking at his face, you expect agony. But instead he looks… euphoric. Ever so slowly, you let your fingers scratch the top of Hester’s head. Her fur is both soft and wiry. Lee just gazes at you, his eyes glassy and a smile on his face.

In your lap, your daemon comes out from under your arm and makes his way onto the bed between you and Lee. Lee takes his hand from yours and moves it towards your daemon.

“NO!” You grab your daemon and hold him against you before Lee can touch him.

Lee seems to come out of his trance. “I’m sorry! I thought… I won’t. I won’t unless you ask me to, I promise.”

“What the fuck just happened?” You’re on the verge of tears, not understanding any of this.

“I love you.” He seems to blurt it out. With wide eyes, you just stare at him. “That’s why it’s different, I think. Because of how I feel about you.”

“Lee…”

“I’ve never stopped loving you. And I still have never loved anyone else. Because you stole my heart, angel. And you still have it. Always. I know I fucked up and I know you hate me for it. But I just needed to tell you. Because I almost lost my chance to.”

Lee drops his head to his chest and squeezes his eyes shut. As you stand up, your daemon hops to the floor and Hester follows him. You see a tear fall into Lee’s lap and that solidifies your decision. You put one knee on the bed, then swing your other leg over Lee’s lap so you’re sitting on him. When he looks up at you in surprise, his striking brown eyes are wet.

You take his face in your hands. “When I thought I might have lost you… I knew in that moment that I still love you, too. As much as I tried to deny it every single day, I can’t anymore.”

Before he can reply, you kiss him.

After dinner and dessert, you found yourself walking along the empty street with him. He was silent, but shooting you a goofy grin.

You took his hand. “You checked in anywhere yet?”

He nodded. “Got a little room up the road.”

“Fancy sharing it?”

His grin got even wider. “Suppose we could, seeing as how we’re engaged and all.”

You laughed and leaned against him. Suddenly he stopped walking and put his hands on your hips, pulling you to him. Your hands automatically went to his shoulders just as he leaned in and kissed you. He wasted no time getting his tongue in your mouth and you matched his enthusiasm.

You caught your breath a moment and asked, “How far is that room?”

He kissed you once more, then grabbed your hand and pulled you with him as he walked as fast as he could. Your daemons bounded in front of the both of you, leading the way. The hotel was thankfully close and Lee didn’t break his stride as he burst through the front door. Some heads turned your way as you gleefully let yourself be led upstairs.

As soon as the door to the room was shut, your hands and mouths were all over each other. Lee sucked on your neck as you helped him undo his buttons. You licked the crest of his ear as he tore at your belt. Soon you crashed onto the bed together, half undressed. Finally you stopped kissing him long enough to wriggle out of your shirt and bra. Without pause, he took one nipple in his mouth, eliciting low moans from you. He pinched the other one and you tried to grind your hips against him to find some friction. He just chuckled at your efforts.

You both still had your underwear on, but you reached down with your foot and rubbed at his bulge with your toes. The sharp intake of breath from him encouraged you to continue. Then he tore himself away from your breasts and kissed a line down your torso. At your belly button, he put his thumbs in the waistband of your underwear and you lifted your hips to help them down.

As soon as your underwear hit the ground, Lee’s tongue was on your clit and you were in heaven. Soon his fingers joined in, caressing your folds and teasing your opening. You were wiggling desperately, wanting more. Lee gave a soft laugh against you; the extra breath was divine. Then he slowly put a finger inside you, which you were so wet and ready for. He sucked your clit and hooked his finger up inside you. In moments you were on the edge, panting and clenching the sheets.

“That’s it, gorgeous,” Lee purred at you. His voice only added to your build and in a moment your pussy was convulsing on his finger and you were crying out his name. Before you had even come down, Lee was pulling off his underwear and positioning himself over you. You gasped as he entered you, delighting in the stretch from him.

Giving you barely a moment to adjust, he started thrusting into you. You raised your hips a little, seeking the perfect angle. You couldn’t quite find it, but his movements were delicious nonetheless.

But all through dinner you had pictured tonight in your head, and this wasn’t what you wanted to do to him. So you pushed his chest until he stopped, giving you a questioning look. You smiled. “I wanna ride you, cowboy.”

His confusion turned to excitement as he pulled out of you. As soon as he was sitting with his back against the headboard, you climbed on top of him. You slid easily onto him and started bobbing up and down. He cupped your breasts and just watched you, mesmerized. Leaning back a little, you braced yourself on his thighs and he held your waist to steady you. You let your head tilt back and concentrated on everything you were feeling, not caring if he was enjoying himself or not. But as soon as you looked at him again, you knew it was good for him, too.

You couldn’t hold that position for long, so you sat back up. Lee met you there, wrapping his arms behind you and slamming his chest against yours. He took over the driving of the movement then, pounding up into you until you were breathless.

You were close again and just whined, “Leeeeee…”

“I’m gonna come… do you want me to pull out?”

You were so close. “Nooooo…”

“Can I come inside you?” His voice was shaking.

“Yesssss… fuck yes. Don’t stop…” Then your rapture overtook you and you trembled in his arms.

He followed you a moment later, sucking on your collarbone to stifle his cries of pleasure. When he came to his senses again, he gently kissed the red spot. “Sorry… that might leave a mark.”

“Worth it.” You winked at him.

After you both cleaned up, he spooned you in the bed. As he left tiny kisses along your shoulders, you asked, “How long are you in town for?”

“At least a week.”

“Hmm…. I think I could stay that long.”

He held you a little tighter. “Might need some backup again. And I wouldn’t mind having a roommate if you’d like to stay…”

He fell asleep before you and you listened to his tiny wheezing and felt his breath on the back of your neck. You smiled, thinking, This is going to be an interesting week.

As your lips meet for the first time in such a long while, it feels as if no time at all has passed. There is no timidity in your kiss—just a satiation of the hunger for each other you’ve had since being starved of the other. You kiss him slow and deep and he meets you there, pulling you in close against him. Nothing else matters in the world except the taste of him on your tongue.

But then that is not enough—you need to be closer. Pulling away from him causes him to whimper, but you merely lean back and tug your shirt off. At this sight, Lee looks like he’s about to cry again. As you kiss him again, you take off your bra and then move his hand to your breast. Your skin is on fire where it meets his, but it’s a beautiful burn.

Needing even more, you help him take off his shirt and he winces as it goes over his injured shoulder. You kiss the top of his shoulder, then continue to his neck. He hasn’t shaved in over a week and his short beard is soft against your cheek. Turning his head, he captures your mouth again. Pressing your chest against his only satisfies you for a moment and then you want more still.

Quickly you stand next to the bed, shedding your pants. Lee has his unbuttoned, and you help him take them off. You take just a moment to appreciate the beauty that is Lee Scoresby naked and he does the same to you. With a smile, you return to his lap and to his kiss.

When you stop for a breath, he holds your face and tells you, “I’ll never ever leave you again, I promise.”

“Shh… I know.”

“I swear I’ll keep that promise, always.”

“I know, my love, I know.”

As you kiss him again, his hands move down to your waist, his calloused fingers raking against your smooth skin. Reaching down between your legs, you hold up his erection and position yourself above him. Slowly you sink down his length, Lee moaning the whole time. You’d been with other men since him, but none ever felt as if he was made for you like Lee does.

Resting your hands on his shoulders, careful of his wound, you lay your forehead against his. With a measured, unhurriedly pace, you move your hips. Your bodies remember each other, drawn together again in the duet only you have sung together. Everything in this moment simply feels right and that this is where you should be.

Moving a little faster, the spark inside you spreads and grows. Lee’s face shows only awe; his entire being purely worshipping you.

“Lee, I love you. I’ll always love you.”

He pants, “I love you. Only you. Always you.”

The wildfire inside sweeps through you and you feel Lee chase his own bliss, hips bucking under you. You watch as his face crumples and he empties himself into you. He opens his eyes and you can’t stop yourself from taking ownership of his mouth all over again. You’ve found paradise once more and this time you won’t let anything drag you away.

You stay on his lap, kissing him until he’s soft inside you. Then you just stare into each other’s eyes and smile, no words being needed now. When you hear your daemons cooing together on the floor, you roll off him to his uninjured side and snuggle up under his arm.

He kisses the top of your head. “Thank you.” You give him a quizzical look. “For forgiving me. For loving me.”

You kiss him again, then turn to your daemon. He climbs onto the bed next to you and you bring him to your lap. Gently you take Lee’s hand and bring it closer. He holds his breath and stretches out his fingers.

The moment he comes in contact with your daemon, you realize what he was trying to tell you before. There is no pain like you’ve felt before. All you can feel is his love for you flowing from his fingertips to your daemon to you. Your whole being tingles with this new sensation and you wish it would never end.

He looks at you, concern knotted on his brow. You see he’s worried about hurting you, but you know he would never. Hester hops onto the bed and sits on Lee’s thighs. Without taking your gaze from Lee, you stretch out your hand to her. She nuzzles her face into your palm and Lee’s face relaxes. The four of you stay like this the rest of the evening.

Later, after Lee is asleep, you whisper to your daemon, “You always knew I still loved him, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but I knew you needed to get there yourself.”

“What happens now?”

“The two of you need to decide that.”

As you fall asleep, you think about how Lee may have been right years ago—one of you will need to sacrifice your job and your lifestyle for you to be together.

Tagging: @sunflowersturn @phoenixofthevalley @serpentstyles

Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!

Thanks for reading! 💜

Chapter Twelve

#lin-manuel miranda #fic #lee scoresby #his dark materials #fanfiction #lee scoresby x reader #lee scoresby x you #his dark materials fic #reader insert #fanfic #lin-manuel miranda fic

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imagine-loki · 3 years

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My Sweet Rose, Chapter 3 (Final Chapter)

TITLE: My Sweet Rose CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 3 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you are secretly a little but no one knows, one day you decide to check out a local BDSM club to try and get a feel of the community. You meet a handsome stranger that, over the next few months, shows you all about the lifestyle. However, one day… he vanishes without a word.

RATING: M

It took Loki a few days before he was able to get a chance to speak to Rosie again. She kept running from him whenever she saw him, not giving him a chance at all.

In the end, he got fed up of her running from him. So he teleported into her room when he knew she was there, to sort it out.

She looked a bit fearful when he suddenly appeared in her room.

Loki put his hands out to the side. ‘Please, Rose… Rosie. I just want to talk, that’s all.’ He said softly.

Rosie slipped off her bed and moved to the side, a little further away from him.

‘I want, no, I need you to know that I never meant to hurt you. Truly. And you were not just a play toy, I give you my word. You meant, and still do mean, the world to me. It broke my heart every single day that I didn’t return to you.’ Loki said honestly.

Rosie wrapped her arms around herself, she couldn’t look at Loki properly. So kept her eyes on the floor on front of him while she listened.

‘I thought it would be for the best, not coming back to you.’

‘Why… Why didn’t you come back or tell me?’ Rosie asked, being brave and raising her eyes up to look into his for a moment, tears in her eyes again. But she was a little confused to see his eyes looked a little bit teary too.

Perhaps he really wasn’t lying.

‘I found out on that trip back to Asgard that I am… that I am a frost giant, a monster. I was told I was adopted, that I had no idea about previously. I suddenly felt myself spiralling out of control, there was no way I was going to put you in danger. I thought it was best, safest for you that I didn’t return… I see now that it was a mistake, that I should have spoken to you about the situation. Told you who I was. I thought I was doing the right thing by you, Rosie. I truly thought I was.’

Rosie wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

‘Why… Why should I believe you? I was… I was in love with you, I trusted you. And you broke that.’ Her lower lip was quivering as she spoke.

Loki nodded and looked down. ‘I am truly sorry. It is breaking me to see you so upset, knowing what I did to you. I never meant to…’ He turned to the door, to leave her alone. ‘I want you to know, there wasn’t a day that went by where I didn’t think of you… Rose.’ He said softly before leaving.

Rosie felt her heart breaking all over again.

Later that day, Rosie bumped into Thor on her way to the lab.

‘Rosie… If I may have a word, I only need a minute of your time.’ He said politely.

She nodded and stopped in her tracks to see what he wanted to say. Thor could see how upset she was, it was evident on her face that she had barely slept since Loki appeared at the tower.

‘Loki spoke about you so fondly, he was madly in love with you… He still does love you. He never stopped. He really did think he was saving you, from himself. He went down a dark path, one that I didn’t think we could pull him from.’ Thor said regretfully.

Rosie shifted nervously on her feet.

‘He isn’t lying to you now, I promise you that. He is beating himself up about it, knowing what pain and harm he caused you for not just speaking to you. He thought it was best to stay away, but he realises now how wrong that was.’

She looked down with a sigh, she knew Thor wouldn’t lie. It wasn’t in his nature. But realising that Loki was telling the truth, she wasn’t really sure what to make of that information.

Thor let her carry on to the lab to do her work, she didn’t bump into Loki at all that day. Which she was rather glad of, because it gave her time to think.

The following day, she went to the kitchen in the morning to find Loki.

His face lit up a little when she approached him, actually seeking him out.

‘I… I believe you. I believe that you thought you were doing what you thought was best for me… Like you always did, you always looked out for me and did what was best. But you did get it wrong this time.’ She looked down and she nervously fiddled with her hands. ‘I don’t know if I will be able to forgive you for it, but I don’t… I don’t hate you. I never could. I understand why, though it doesn’t make it any less hurtful.’

Loki nodded and he wanted nothing more than to grab her hands in his, but he refrained from touching her. Knowing it probably wasn’t the best thing to do.

‘Thank you, Rose. That’s all I can ask for, I know. Though I do hope we can maybe be friends, in time? But I don’t want you to be uncomfortable here, it’s your home and work. I can leave, if that’s what you would prefer.’ Loki offered, surprising her slightly.

‘No… No, it’s ok… I did think I would need to leave, but I… I think it will be ok.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’ll see you around… Loki.’ She gave him a very small smile, which made Loki smile a bit too.

It was a step in the right direction.

Over the following weeks, Rosie felt a bit better about everything. Herself included. Learning that a God had truly been in love with her was quite the confidence boost, even if it had gone wrong in the end. She understood now though.

She was still a bit nervous and anxious around him, but she wasn’t sure why really. Though their interactions were brief at first. Just hello’s or good morning’s. Then Loki started making her hot chocolate in the mornings, just the way she used to like it. With a marshmallow on top.

‘Thanks.’ She said shyly when he handed her a mug in the morning with a smile.

‘You’re welcome, darling.’ He smiled at her brightly.

He was glad to see she was looking better too, not tired or as scared of him. Though he could tell she was tired in another way, tired of being an adult and looking after herself. He had seen it before, when she was busy with work and hadn’t been able to go into little space for a while…

He wished he could allow her that relief, to go into little space with him. But he knew that would likely never happen again. Which broke his heart.

Over time, he couldn’t help himself from getting a bit protective over her. Old habits appearing.

She was cooking dinner one night, had offered to for everyone. She was using a sharp knife to cut up some vegetables when Loki walked in and saw her.

‘Let me do that for you.’ He said swiftly and rushed over to take the knife from her before she could argue. She tried to ignore the tingling she felt when his fingers had brushed against hers.

Another time, it was almost midnight and Loki had gone to get a snack from the kitchen when he spotted a light on in one of the offices. Popping his head round the door, he saw Rosie was still up doing some work.

He walked in and with a firm voice started telling her off. ‘You should be in bed, it’s way past your…’ He trailed off, eyes widening as he realised he had no right to be telling her what to do.

She looked surprised and a little sheepish. Part of her wanted him to finish, to put her to bed. But she tried to push that feeling way down.

‘Sorry…’ Loki shook his head and rushed out of the room quickly.

One afternoon, there was a mad rush in the tower when Bruce had turned into the Hulk by accident, causing destruction and chaos as everyone ran around screaming trying to get out of the way, while Natasha tried to calm him down.

Rosie had gotten caught up with some SHIELD officers charging past her, knocking her to the floor.

‘ROSE!’ Loki shouted and rushed over to her, he had been looking for her during the panic to make sure she was safe. Seeing her being knocked to the floor panicked him.

‘I’m ok.’ She said as she sat up. But before she could get herself up, Loki had already put his arms around her and lifted her up to her feet.

‘You’re bleeding.’ He commented as he picked up her hand, she had a cut on the side of her wrist.

‘It’s just a scratch, it’s ok.’ She said quietly.

Loki put his arm around her waist and led her into the nearest room, away from the hustle and bustle. He sat her down on a chair and knelt on front of her, inspecting her wrist.

‘Honestly, it’s fine. Just a scratch.’ She said again, trying to pull her hand away, but Loki wouldn’t let her.

He conjured up a plaster and some soothing cream. Her heart started beating a little faster when he applied the cream gently and then put the plaster on.

‘Any other injuries? Are you sore anywhere else, that was quite a fall?’ He asked, concern etched all over his face as he inspected her arms and hands closely, then looked into her eyes.

‘I’m… I’m fine… Thank you… Loki.’ She stammered out, her skittish eyes never quite landing on his.

Once he was sure she was ok, he let her go and walked her back to her room safely. She was shaking when she got inside, not because of Hulk or being knocked over, but because of how close she felt to falling into little space with Loki.

There was the deep longing within her, just wanting him to look after her again, like he used to. His natural Daddy instincts was bursting out, though she could tell he was trying to contain it.

Though she was terrified of being left again.

That night, Loki was sitting up in bed reading. It was getting late, but he just couldn’t sleep. He was really antsy because there was thunder and lightning outside, he knew how scared Rosie was of thunderstorms. And this was a particularly bad one.

He wanted nothing more than to go to her room and comfort her, or just make sure she was ok. But he knew he had no right to do that anymore.

Though he was confused when there was a timid knock on his door.

Slipping out of bed, he had some leather trousers materialise onto him as he crossed the room, so he wasn’t answering naked. When he opened the door, his heart utterly collapsed at the sight.

It was Rosie. Rose. His sweet Rose. She was wearing cute kitten pyjamas that he had gifted her before, and she was clutching a stuffed toy dog to her chest tightly. She looked scared, and he knew instantly that she was in little space. Her eyes were watery, she had been crying.

‘I… I’m… scared…’ She said shakily.

Loki had barely opened his arms to her when she rushed forward into him. He put his arms around her and held her tightly to his body, then he lifted her up and squeezed her even harder as he pressed his face into her hair, breathing in deeply.

She wrapped her legs around him and hid her face into the crook of his neck. She was trembling a bit, but it was slowly easing as he carried her over to his bed.

‘It’s ok, my little one. You’re safe with me, I promise.’ He said softly and got into bed, curling her up on his lap safely.

She kept hugging into him, jumping whenever there was a rumble of thunder.

‘Shhh, shhh. It’s ok, my sweet Rose.’ He hummed gently and slid his hand under her top to stroke her back soothingly, making her melt and feel safe.

‘You’re safe with Daddy. And I promise, I am never going to let you down again.’

#Loki #Angst #Submitted fic #submission #chapter 3 #fanficshiddles #my sweet rose

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usuallyapirate · 3 years

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A short Introduction to the most common Player-Races in Dungeons and Dragons as given by the DnD 5e Players Handbook:

Dwarf

“Yer late,elf!” came the rough edge of a familiar voice. Bruenor Battlehammer walked up the back of his dead foe, disregarding the fact that the heavy monster lay on top of his elven friend. In spite of the added discomfort, the dwarf’s long, pointed, often-broken nose and gray-streaked though still-fiery red beard came as a welcome sight to Drizzt. “Knew I’d find ye in trouble if I came out an' looked for ye!"

– R.A. Salvatore, The Crysta lShard

Kingdoms rich in ancient grandeur, halls carved into the roots of mountains, the echoing of picks and hammers in deep mines and blazing forges, a commitment to clan and tradition, and a burning hatred of goblins and orcs—these common threads unite all dwarves.

Elf

“I HAVE NEVER IMAGINED SUCH BEAUTY EXISTED,” Goldmoon said softly. The day’s march had been difficult, but the reward at the end was beyond their dreams. The companions stood on a high cliff over the fabled city of Qualinost. Four slender spires rose from the city’s corners like glistening spindles, their brilliant white stone marbled with shining silver. Graceful arches, swooping from spire to spire, soared through the air. Crafted by ancient dwarven metalsmiths, they were strong enough to hold the weight of an army, yet they appeared so delicate that a bird lighting on them might overthrow the balance. These glistening arches were the city’s only boundaries; there was no wall around Qualinost. The elven city opened its arms lovingly to the wilderness.

– Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman, Dragons of Autumn Twilight

Elves are a magical people of otherworldly grace, living in the world but not entirely part of it. They live in places of ethereal beauty, in the midst of ancient forests or in silvery spires glittering with faerie light, where soft music drifts through the air and gentle fragrances waft on the breeze. Elves love nature and magic, art and artistry, music and poetry, and the good things of the world.

Halfling

Regis the halfling, the only one of his kind for hundreds of miles in any direction, locked his fingers behind his head and leaned back against the mossy blanket of the tree trunk. Regis was short, even by the standards of his diminutive race, with the fluff of his curly brown locks barely cresting the three-foot mark, but his belly was amply thickened by his love of a good meal, or several, as the opportunities presented themselves. The crooked stick that served as his fishing pole rose up above him, clenched between two of his toes, and hung out over the quiet lake, mirrored perfectly in the glassy surface of Maer Dualdon.

– R.A. Salvatore, The Crystal Shard

The comforts of home are the goal of most halflings‘ lives: a place to settle in peace and quiet, far from marauding monsters and clashing armies; a blazing fire and a generous meal; fine drink and fine conversation. Though some halflings live out their days in remote agricultural communities, others form nomadic bands that travel constantly, lured by the open road and the wide horizon to discover the wonders of new lands and peoples. But even these wanderers love peace, food, hearth, and home, though home might be a wagon jostling along a dirt road or a raft floating downriver.

Human

These were the stories of a restless people who long ago took to the seas and rivers in longboats, first to pillage and terrorize, then to settle. Yet there was an energy, a love of adventure, that sang from every page. Long into the night Uriel read, lighting candle after precious candle. She'd never given much thought to humans, but these stories fascinated her. In these yellowed pages were tales of bold heroes, strange and fierce animals, mighty primitive gods, and a magic that was part and fabric of that distant land.

– Elaine Cunningham, Daughter of the Drow

In the reckonings of most worlds, humans are the youngest of the common races, late to arrive on the world scene and short-lived in comparison to dwarves, elves, and dragons. Perhaps it is because of their shorter lives that they strive to achieve as much as they can in the years they are given. Or maybe they feel they have something to prove to the elder races, and that’s why they build their mighty empires on the foundation of conquest and trade. Whatever drives them, humans are the innovators, the achievers, and the pioneers of the worlds.

Dragonborn

Her father stood on the first of the three stairs that led down from the portal, unmoving. The scales of his face had grown paler around the edges, but Clanless Mehen still looked as if he could wrestle down a dire bear himself. His familiar well-worn armor was gone, replaced by violet-tinted scale armor with bright silvery tracings. There was a blazon on his arm as well, the mark of some foreign house. The sword at his back was the same, though, the one he had carried since even before he had found the twins left in swaddling at the gates of Arush Vayem. Father’s face was as kill she'd been fortunate to learn. A human who couldn’t spot the shift of her eyes or Havilar’s would certainly see only the indifference of a dragon in Clanless Mehen’s face. But the shift of scales, the arch of a ridge, the set of his eyes, the gape of his teeth – her father's face spoke volumes. But every scale of it, this time, seemed completely still— the indifference of a dragon, even to Farideh.

– Erin M. Evans, The Adversary

Born of dragons, as their name proclaims, the dragonborn walk proudly through a world that greets them with fearful incomprehension. Shaped by draconic gods or the dragons themselves, dragonborn originally hatched from dragon eggs as a unique race, combining the best attributes of dragons and humanoids. Some dragonborn are faithful servants to true dragons, others form the ranks of soldiers in great wars, and still others find themselves adrift, with no clear calling in life.

Gnome

Skinny and flaxen-haired, his skin walnut brown and his eyes a startling turquoise, Burgell stood half as tall as Aeron climb up on a stool to look out the peephole. Like most habitations in Oeble, that particula tenement had been built for humans, and smaller residents coped with the resulting awkwardness as best they could. But at least the relative largeness of the apartment gave Burgell room to pack in all his gnome-sized gear. The front room was his workshop, and it contained a bewildering miscellany of tools: hammers, chisels, saws, lockpicks, tinted lenses, jeweler's loupes, and jars of powdered and shredded ingredients for casting spells. A fat gray cat, the mage’s familiar, lay curled atop a grimoire. It opened its eyes, gave Aeron a disdainful yellow stare, then appeared to go back to sleep.

– Richard Lee Byers, The Black Bouquet

A constant hum of busy activity pervades the warrens and neighborhoods where gnomes form their close-knit communities. Louder sounds punctuate the hum: a crunch of grinding gears here, a minor explosion there, a yelp of surprise or triumph, and especially bursts of laughter. Gnomes take delight in life, enjoying every moment of invention, exploration, investigation, creation, and play.

Half-Elf

Flint squinted into the setting sun. He thought he saw the figure of a man striding up the path. Standing, Flint drew back into the shadow of a tall pine to see better. The man's walk was marked by an easy grace – an elvish grace, Flint would have said; yet the man’s body had the thickness and tight muscles of a human, while the facial hair was definitely humankind’s. All the dwarf could see of the man’s face beneath a green hood was tan skin and a brownish-red beard. A longbow was slung over one shoulder and a sword hung at his left side. He was dressed in soft leather, carefully tooled in the intricate designs the elves loved. But no elf in the world of Krynn could grow a beard ... no elf, but...

“Tanis?” said Flint hesitantly as the man neared.

“The same.” The newcomer’s bearded face split in a wide grin. He held open his arms and, before the dwarf could stop him, engulfed Flint in a hug that lifted him off the ground. The dwarf clasped his old friend close for a brief instant, then, remembering his dignity, squirmed and freed himself from the half-elf’s embrace.

– Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman, Dragons of Autumn Twilight

Walking in two worlds but truly belonging to neither, half-elves combine what some say are the best qualities of their elf and human parents: human curiosity, inventiveness, and ambition tempered by the refined senses, love of nature, and artistic tastes of the elves. Some half-elves live among humans, set apart by their emotional and physical differences, watching friends and loved ones age while time barely touches them. Others live with the elves, growing restless as they reach adulthood in the timeless elven realms, while their peers continue to live as children. Many half-elves, unable to fit into either society, choose lives of solitary wandering or join with other misfits and outcasts in the adventuring life.

Half-Orc

The warchief Mhurren roused himself from his sleeping-furs and his women and pulled a short hauberk of heavy steel rings over his thick, well-muscled torso. He usually rose before most of his warriors, since he had a strong streak of human blood in him, and he found the daylight less bothersome than most of his tribe did. Among the Bloody Skulls, a warrior was judged by his strength, his fierceness, and his wits. Human ancestry was no blemish against a warrior – provided he was every bit as strong, enduring, and blood thirsty as his full-blooded kin. Half-orcs who were weaker than their orc comrades didn't last long among the Bloody Skulls or any other orc tribe for that matter. But it was often true that a bit of human blood gave a warrior just the right mix of cunning, ambition, and self-discipline to go far indeed, as Mhurren had. He was master of a tribe that could muster two thousand spears, and the strongest chief in Thar.

– Richard Baker, Swordmage

Whether united under the leadership of a mighty warlock or having fought to a standstill after years of conflict, orc and human tribes sometimes form alliances, joining forces into a larger horde to the terror of civilized lands nearby. When these alliances are sealed by marriages, half-orcs are born. Some half-orcs rise to become proud chiefs of orc tribes, their human blood giving them an edge over their full-blooded orc rivals. Some venture into the world to prove their worth among humans and other more civilized races. Many of these become adventurers, achieving greatness for their mighty deeds and notoriety for their barbaric customs and savage fury.

Tiefling

“But you do see the way people look at you, devil’s child." Those black eyes, cold as a winter storm, were staring right into her heart and the sudden seriousness in his voice jolted her.

“What is it they say?" he asked. “One’s a curiosity, two’s a conspiracy—”

“Three's a curse,” she finished. “You think I haven’t heard that rubbish before?”

“I know you have.” When she glared at him, he added, “It’s not as if I’m plumbing the depths of your mind, dear girl. That is the burden of every tiefling. Some break under it, some make it the millstone around their neck, some revel in it.” He tilted his head again, scrutinizing her, with that wicked glint in hiseyes. “You fight it, don’t you? Like a little wildcat, I wager. Every little jab and comment just sharpens your claws.”

– Erin M. Evans, Brimstone Angels

To be greeted with stares and whispers, to suffer violence and insult on the street, to see mistrust and fear in every eye: this is the lot of the tiefling. And to twist the knife, tieflings know that this is because a pact struck generations ago infused the essence of Asmodeus – overlord of the Nine Hells – into their bloodline. Their appearance and their nature are not their fault but the result of an ancient sin, for which they and their children and their children’s children will always be held accountable.

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thewhitejournal · 3 years

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Just One More Night

Aaron Hotchner x Female!Reader Series

hello everyone! welcome to a new series im starting, this one was actually requested by @art-and-thoughts so shoutout to them. i’ll put their request below so you can read what it’s about, and i hope you all enjoy! :)

plot: Shortly after getting divorced, Hotch needs some sort of distraction from his work and personal life, he ends up meeting a younger girl and they start a casual relationship. He doesn’t want to know much about her than what’s necessary, so they just meet for ~sexy times~ and it works good for both of them for a while. The reader is graduating in communities and criminology; JJ finds out she’s going to have a baby, so she decides to call someone from outside to “coach” and replace her. That’s how the reader ends up at the BAU.

content warnings: smut, cursing, a bit commanding here and there, fingering, oral (male receiving)

Finals kicked your ass, that was a fact. You stepped out of the study hall and your tennis shoe met snow, covering the steps to the doors. You kicked yourself internally for not checking the weather, shivers already taking over your body. Snow went flying from the ground as you rushed to your car, a sheet of it falling off the roof when you slammed the door. The cold didn’t necessarily bother you, but not dressing appropriately for it did. Your car sputtered to life when you turned the key in the ignition. While you tried warming yourself up and while you waited for the defrost to kick in, you checked your phone.

The cold metal of the thing wasn’t exactly comforting, but your notifications were coming in at record speed. The group chat you and your roommate and the friends you’d met since last year made together kept bombarding you with who’s typing and who’s already said something. A little part of you dreaded opening it, knowing you were probably fully behind on whatever was happening.

They loved you, that’s for sure. But they always teased you for being ‘addicted to school’, and that you needed help for your addiction. You couldn’t help you were devoted to your future, the career at the FBI looking closer every day. It’s always been your goal. More specifically, you wanted to be a profiler. Ever since you started researching career paths and colleges in your senior year of high school, it stuck with you. You wanted it, and when you found something you wanted, you weren’t giving up until you had it. Hell, you’d just got done reviewing the subjects for next semester.

A sigh escaped your lips as you opened the chat. The rundown of it was that they wanted to get together for drinks to celebrate the end of the semester. You weren’t much of a party person, but you knew it wasn’t an option for you since they said they would be meeting there in half an hour. All you wanted to do was go back to the dorm and pass out, but you figured, why the hell not? You knew you deserved a break; one night couldn’t hurt.

After making the short drive to the dorms about half a mile away, you turned the car off and hurried inside. You came in with a bluster of cold air, kicking off your wet shoes next to the door. Your roommate was getting ready in the bathroom; her favorite ‘hype’ music was playing and you could smell the hairspray from the front door.

You didn’t have time to shower, and you figured it was fine since you had one this morning. So you fixed yourself up, doing a little more makeup and slipping into the outfit your friend picked out for you. You stepped into the bathroom next to her to fix your hair.

“(Y/N), going out without bitching? Are you feeling alright?” She teasingly put the back of her hand to your forehead as if to feel for a fever. You rolled your eyes, smacking her hand away. Both of you shared a laugh. Within minutes, you two were ready to go. You piled into your car, which was still a little warm, and started driving to the bar they picked out.

Once you were inside, you saw your other friends waiting for you, drinks already on their table. They waved you over as if you couldn’t see them; they were already tipsy. A smile grew on your lips as you and your friend walked over to them, happy to see your friends happy.

“To this shitty semester finally being over!” Your roommate toasted, a shot already in her hand. She was holding one out to you, and you took it, clinking your glass with the other girls before downing it. After sitting and talking and laughing and drinking for a while, you started surveying the bar and its patrons. Your curious gaze fell on a table of men, one of them significantly older than the rest. He had a glass of whiskey in front of him. His hands that donned a huge ring with an insignia that you couldn’t make out were gesturing in the air like he was telling a story.

The man standing next to him looked to be about your age, maybe older. He was a skinny little thing, listening intently to the older man’s story with a smile on his face. He looked like he was drinking some kind of sparkling water. The other guy was buff, wearing a tight, grey t-shirt. Dark brows on his forehead danced with emotion as the story went on. His smile was huge; he had some beautiful teeth for a guy. A beer dangled casually in his hand.

The fourth man was unlike the rest of them in his own way. He was wearing a brown pullover and dark jeans, his short black hair gelled and styled. His fingers twirled a whiskey glass on the table, and it was about empty. You noticed a tan line on his ring finger, but no ring. This was intriguing. A Rolex shined on his right wrist. He had a small smile on his face, adding to the story here and there and laughing. You couldn’t hear it, but you were sure it sounded lovely. His brown eyes crinkled when he smiled.

“(Y/N), what the hell are you staring- oh, I see. The skinny one?” Your roommate Rachel asked you, her gaze fixed on the men now, too. She looked at him like she was a lion and he was a gazelle, and it was dinner time. You chuckled, shaking your head.

“No, Rach. Don’t worry about it.” She gave you a knowing look like you weren’t getting away with it that easy. Her body turned towards you, and she leaned on the table. Her brows furrowed.

“Which one, then? Cause brown jacket’s been making eyes on you since you walked in.” She stated. You turned to face her, your eyes widening.

“Oh my god, can you keep your fucking voice down?”, you hissed under your breath. You tried looking over at them inconspicuously, to see if they’d heard, but you couldn’t tell. You felt the blush creeping up your neck and onto your cheeks. A sly smile made its way to her face. She giggled.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” She prodded your arm, laughing. You tried to play it cool, trying to make her calm down, but it wasn’t working. She burst into laughter, nearly doubling over so hard she about fell into the floor. God, she was drunk. You glanced over at the table, and you swore you saw him looking over, but only for a second.

Butterflies started roaring inside of you, in your stomach and even wandering lower. It was like nothing you’d ever felt before. The liquid courage started flowing through your veins, your heart pumping in your chest. You might’ve gone over and said, or ever did, something if you were a hundred percent sure he was interested. But you weren’t. Rachel eventually recovered from her laughing fit, leaning on you like you were the only thing holding her up. You steadied her as best as you could.

“Rachel, you should drink some water. You’re wasted.” You rubbed her arm, a concerned look on your face. She stared at you for a second, copying the look on your face.

“Fine,” she slurred, “You need the courage more than me anyway.” Your brows furrowed, giving her an inquisitive look. She giggled, covering her mouth when she let a snort out. “Because...look behind you…”, she whisper-said, falling on your other friend to her left. You felt your heart speed up in your chest, your body turning on your heel.

The man was sauntering over to you, his friends cheering him on behind him. He was laughing and shaking his head. You chewed on the inside of your cheek as he got closer. Fuck, he was tall. That smile on his lips made you blush, and the look in his eyes said more than words ever could.

When he finally reached you, he slipped an arm around your waist and leaned down to whisper in your ear. He smelled like pine and leather, and you felt your body tense up. There’s no way this was happening. The hottest guy in the bar, picking you out of the crowd? This never happened.

“Wanna get out of here?” He smelled like alcohol, but you were sure you did too. It took everything in you not to moan at the mere rasp of his voice. You hummed in an affirming tone as a response. This wasn’t like you, but you didn’t care. He was hot and the looks he gave you alone were enough to get you soaking wet. He took your hand eagerly, pulling you out the door and towards a black SUV. The plates on the front looked like government plates, but surely not. The car wasn’t your focus at the moment, anyway.

He shoved you against the passenger door, somehow rough and gentle at the same time, his arms on either side of your waist. It took the breath out of you, but you were breathless already so it was hard to tell just how much of an effect it had on you. His dark eyes looked like those of a hungry predator, tracing all over your face and body. He licked his lips, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips.

“Do you wanna do this?”, he asked you in a low and sultry voice. You put your hands on the sides of his face, nodding. You leaned forward and closed the gap between the two of you, pressing your body to his, along with your lips. His hand pulled your waist to his body, the other hand getting lost in your hair. He moaned against your lips, and you felt yourself twitch in your underwear. God, he was so fucking hot.

“Good, get in.”, he commanded. You’d never been talked to like that. Your pussy twitched again, and you had to hold back a whimper. He opened the back door for you, and you crawled inside. The backseat was spacious, which was quite useful for what was about to happen. He settled himself in the seat and shut the door behind him, locking the car and pulling you into his lap, his back against the door.

He smashed his soft, pink lips onto yours, his tongue twirling with yours. His lips left yours and he started trailing rough kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone. You craned your neck back to give him more room, a little moan slipping from your lips. “Oh, you like that, baby?”, he asked you against your skin, his fingers slowly pulling down the straps of your dress onto your shoulders.

“Wait…”, you breathed out, and he pulled away. He asked if he’d done something wrong, an apologetic look in his eyes. He’s hot and respectful? Fuck. “No, I… I just want to know your name.” He chuckled deeply.

“Aaron. What’s yours, honey?” God, that voice was the death of you. You were surprised he couldn’t feel how wet you were through his jeans.

“(Y/N).” A smile grew on your lips, as did on his.

“Nice to meet you, (Y/N).”, he whispered, leaning into you again and kissing you. You slid your heels off and heard them clatter on the floor, kissing him back, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing yourself against him. Your legs fell over his waist, straddling him. He hummed contently against you, his huge hands resting on your waist.

Instinctively, you moved your hips against his jeans, a moan slipping through your lips. His hands fell to your thighs, hastily moving them under your dress to play with the hem of your panties. You whimpered, and he pulled away, looking you in the eyes.

“You want these off, (Y/N)?”, he purred in your ear.

“Fuck, yes, Aaron, please…” You were a mess, but you didn’t care. You just wanted him so bad, and you didn’t even know him. His fingers tugged at them, pulling them down your thigh and shoving them in his pocket, a sly smile on his face.

“Come here, baby.” You obliged, sliding your hands under his shirt as you kissed him roughly. He bit your lip, a yelp coming from you and a deep chuckle from him. The two of you parted for only a second so that his jacket and shirt could come off. You admired his skin in the faint light from a nearby streetlight. Something that stood out to you was all the scars on his stomach. You leaned down and kissed every single one of them, undoing his belt in the process. You could feel how hard he was through his jeans. He moaned, his head hitting the window. “Fuck, you’re so hot…” His voice sounded so attractive when he was hot and bothered.

His hands pulled you suddenly back into his lap, hands resting on your bare ass. “Your turn first.” His thumb had no problem finding your pulsing clit, and he started rubbing circles just the way you liked. You gasped, moaning and burying your face in his neck. He moaned too, pushing a finger inside you and pumping back and forth. “You’re so wet for me, (Y/N).” You couldn’t speak; the power he held over you was insane. He kissed your neck so roughly you knew it would leave bruises that you’d have to cover up. Good thing it was scarf season.

He added another finger, and you started riding him; you were a moaning and sloppy mess. You put your hands on his strong shoulders to steady yourself, and he moved his fingers faster. The knot in your stomach tightened, and you could hardly breathe. Your eyes rolled back into your head and all you could feel was his hot chest against you and his long fingers inside you as you rode out your orgasm on them. He pulled them out, and you instantly missed the feeling. You whined at the empty feeling.

“You want to clean them off or should I?” You could barely focus on his words, your pussy still pulsing.

“I want you to taste me.”, you breathed out. Without hesitation, he licked his fingers clean, amber eyes rolling into his skull and a guttural moan coming from deep inside him. You got turned on again just from that vision itself. He pulled your dress off of you and threw it on top of your panties on the floor. He hungrily stared at your chest, sucking on your nipple and playing with the other. Your hips bucked against the leather of the seat, a groan slipping from the both of you.

“Lie down.” You did as you were told, lying down on your back. He unzipped his jeans and kicked them off, but not before pulling a condom out of the back pocket. His dick was pushing against the thin fabric of his boxers. Fuck, he’s huge. Of course, he is. Going against orders, you sat up and looked up at him, taking him into your mouth. He groaned, pulling your hair back away from your face. “(Y/N), holy shit…” He thrust into your mouth, but you didn’t mind it. Your hands stroked his dick for what your mouth couldn’t take.

You pulled away, knowing he was ready. His light brown eyes from inside the bar were now pitch black, his chest heaving and sweat beading on his forehead. You put your hand behind his head and pressed your lips into his, and he moaned against you. You could feel his dick pressing onto the inside of your thigh, and your hips naturally started riding it. He wasn’t inside you yet, just slipping against you. Your nails dug into his back, the feeling too much to take. His hands held your waist so tight you think he might leave bruises, but that didn’t matter.

Hurriedly, he pulled the condom on his dick and made sure you were ready and willing before he started fucking you. Slowly at first, he thrust what felt like halfway inside you. He filled you up so nicely, like the two of you were made for each other. “Fuck, Aaron, just like that…”, you breathed out into his ear, moaning and rocking on top of him. He helped you stay steady as you took all of his dick, and he started speeding up. You held onto him like he was your last breath, and his wandering hand found your clit again, rubbing those familiar circles on it. He started sucking on your neck again, and you could feel him twitching inside you. You came not a second later.

You rode it out, seeing stars. He was breathing heavily, kissing your lips as softly as he did before you started. You kissed him back with what little energy you had left. “That was…”, he whispered, looking into your eyes. “Amazing. You’re amazing.”, he finished his thought.

“Wanna do this again sometime?”, you asked him shyly. He smirked at you. “Sorry, that was-“

“I do, (Y/N). Get dressed, I’ll drive you home.” You smiled at him, and he returned one. You didn’t worry about your phone or purse; one of your friends would grab them. He was dressed quickly and got out of the backseat, closing the door behind him and walking around the front of the car to get in the driver’s seat. You pulled your dress back on, along with your shoes.

The lack of Aaron’s body heat made you realize how cold it was this late into the night. You crossed your arms over your body, trying to make yourself as warm as possible. He motioned for you to get in the front seat, so you did, getting out of the car. The parking lot was almost empty, and it was snowing. You opened the passenger door, climbing in.

“Are you cold?”, he asked. He was warming the car up, turning dials and making sure it was getting defrosted. Not that it needed to do much work with all the heat you two made. You looked over at him; the caring look returned in his eyes. He looked handsome in the dim light of the center console. You nodded, and he pulled his jacket off and handed it to you. You gladly took it, his smell wafting around you when you slid it on. You told him where your dorms were, and he didn’t seem to mind that you were still in university.

The two of you drove in comfortable silence, the white flakes whizzing past the windows as he drove. Thoughts flooded your head about what had just happened, and how you felt about him. You couldn’t fall for him, but you had a feeling you could at some point if you weren’t careful. Unbeknownst to you, Aaron was having the same thoughts.

He parked outside your building, and he gave you his number and you gave him yours. You started taking the jacket off, and he stopped you. “Keep it. It’s cold out there.” You gave him a small smile and thanked him, and he pressed one last kiss to your lips before you got out of the car. He made sure you got inside the building before driving off. You watched the black SUV pull off in the white flurries outside. The plates caught your eye again; those were US government plates, for sure.

What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

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rivers-rambles21 · 3 years

Text

The one with the flipping

Part 10 of The one where Bucky has a cute neigbour series!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (f)

Summary | Reader and Bucky become friends after he saves her from a creep in their apartment building. Each chapter explores a different point in their friendship - very slow burn!

Warnings | 18+ only, Smut in later chapters (this is a slow burn), swearing, unprotected sex, oral sex, (later chapters)

We’re starting to see more from The Falcon and The Winter Soldier - there are some bits taken from the show to help shape the story.

We’ll also be seeing Y/N & Bucky texting whilst he’s away

It didn’t feel right with Bucky away. Although he’d only been gone for just over a day you felt the void he left. Over the past few months you’d become inseparable, seeing each other every day - whether it be hitting the gym together, cooking or just hanging out.

After coming home from yet another terrible day at work, you wanted nothing more than to open a bottle of wine and binge watch TV with Bucky who was undoubtedly now your best friend.

You were two glasses in when you heard a banging outside your apartment door.

Stepping out into the hallway you were greeted with two cops hammering away on Bucky’s door, nearly breaking it clean off. “Excuse me, can I help you?”

Both officers quickly spun on the spot and reached for their guns, stopping when they saw you were on your own. “Do you know the man who lives here?”

“Yes, do you?”

“Ma’am do you know where he is?”

“No I don’t” You lied, not trusting the two men infront of you.

One of their radios suddenly turned on “-he’s is now in custody in Baltimore”

Both cops nodded to one another before turning back to you. “Nevermind ma’am”

You watched as they left as quickly as they arrived before running back into your apartment, grabbing your phone and frantically calling Bucky. You tried a few more times before stuffing your wallet into your purse and heading for the door.

Fortunately you managed to catch a last minute flight to Baltimore after confirming with the police precinct they were holding him in . You hadn’t thought twice about going to him, your heart ached at the thought of him being confined to a cell, trapping him like an animal.

After paying the cab driver your fare, you sprinted into the precinct heading straight for the desk.

“Hi, you’re holding my friend Bucky - I mean James Barnes.” You panted, tired from the sprint to the officer behind the desk.

“Who the hell are you?”

Turning around, you came face to face with someone you instantly recognised. “Falcon” You grinned, a little bit star struck at meeting an actual Avenger.

Sure Bucky was one too but to you he wasn’t some superhero on the evening news who fought aliens and terrorists, he was just Bucky - your friend who stole your food and listened to your never ending rants.

Realising you hadn’t answered his question, you continued. “I’m Y/N, a friend of Bucky’s.” You extended your hand out to him which he shook.

“Sam” He replied, releasing your hand from his.

“The one who believes wizards are real” You joked, trying to remove the tension.

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told the cyborg, a wizard is a sorcerer without a hat!”

“Uhuh” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Have they said when they’ll let him out yet?”

Sam gestured you to the seating area and sat down. “Once his therapist arrives they’ll let him out.” You sat in comfortable silence for a few moments as the busy precinct bustled around you, cops and civilians passing through constantly.

Sam was the first to break the silence.

“Do you want to watch a funny video?”

The first time you watched the video of Bucky jumping out of the plane you were worried sick he’d hurt himself with his terrible landing. But by the fifth time watching it you’d found it hysterical as you laughed along with Sam as you watched the video over and over again from different angles to kill the time.

Reluctantly, you left the waiting area and headed to the restroom to relieve yourself. When you came back you were stumped to find Sam wasn’t where you’d left him.

“Excuse me, do you know where the man that was sat there went?” You asked the officer behind the desk.

“Therapy session” She replied, pointing towards the double doors before returning back to furiously typing on her computer.

“Thanks” You muttered before returning back to your seat, patiently waiting.

You didn’t have to wait for long before Sam came back with an annoyed look etched across his face. “He’ll be out in a minute” he said as he passed by you, heading for the exit.

With a sigh of relief you stood from your seat and adjusted your clothing as you watched the door with eager eyes.

The moment you saw him through the small windows you felt all the stress and anxiety of the day seep out of you as you saw he was relatively okay.

Bucky must have been distracted as he didn’t notice you standing in front of him until his eyes landed on you, his mouth hanging open in shock.

“Hey Buck”

“Doll what are you doing here?” He asked as he strode over to you, pulling you into him in a tight hug, your face pressed against his warm chest. Your arms wound around his back, pulling him in closer, his scent overwhelming your senses. He left a kiss upon your head before pulling back slightly to look down at you, searching for answers.

“Cops came to your apartment looking for you, and then I heard they’d got you and I just panicked. Are you okay?” Reaching up, you cupped his face in your hand, your thumb stroking his soft cheek.

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment before he opened them again, suddenly aware of where you were.

“C’mon lets get out of here.” Taking your hand in his, he led you out of the station and into the fresh evening air.

A shiver ran down your spine as the cold air hit your bare arms. In your rush to go after Bucky you’d foolishly foregone a jacket.

Instantly noticing your discomfort, Bucky dropped your hand and shrugged his jacket off and wrapped it around your shoulders, the leather swamping your form.

“Thanks” You said shyly, Bucky merely smiled back at you in response.

“Well I feel better” Sam’s voice broke you out of the moment as he walked up to you both. Bucky opened his mouth to respond before being interrupted by the sound of a siren and flashing lights.

“Gentlemen!” You recognised the voice from the news - the Captain America knock off. “Good to see you again.”

You felt Bucky's hand slide down your arm to grasp your hand once again as he walked towards the imposter, angling you behind him.

“Look, if we divide ourselves, we don’t stand a chance, you guys know that.”

“So what do you got?” Sam asked, rolling his eyes.

“Well the leaders name’s Karli Morgenthau. We’ve been targeting civilians who’ve been helping Karli move from place to place.”

“They geotagged a location then scrambled the signal. But our satellites have found their symbol popping up in various displaced communities all across Central and Eastern Europe.”

“We think she’s taking the medicine she just stole to one of these camps.”

“Well, there are hundreds of those all over the planet since The Blip so I guess you’ll have to look real hard.” If it wasn’t for present company you’d have rolled your eyes at Bucky’s sarcasm.

“Good thing I have 20/20 vision, huh?”

“Where is she now, Walker? Do you know?”

“No we don’t know Bucky. It’s only a matter of time before we find out”

“Things are really intense for you, aren’t they Walker” Your lips twitched as you fought off a smirk.

“Take it easy. Look Walker’s right. It is imperative that we find them and stop them. But you guys have rules of engagement and all kinds of authorisations you have to get. We’re free agents. We’re more flexible. So it wouldn’t make sense for us to work with you.”

You all turned to walk away, Bucky squeezing your hand as you did before fake Captain America stopped you in your tracks. “A word of advice then… stay the hell out of my way.” The two men turned and began to walk before Walker stopped again. “Nice to finally meet you Y/N”

You felt Bucky tense as he turned back to the two men, his eyes glaring at them. Gently, you squeezed his hand and tugged his arm, pulling him back towards Sam, not bothering to respond to dumb and dumber. Looking down at you, he sighed before complying.

With one last glance behind, you raised your hand as though to wave before smirking and flipping them both off instead - earning a chuckle from Sam.

A few blocks later, Sam hung back to give you and Bucky a moment alone.

“I can’t believe you came for me doll” Bucky couldn’t keep his hands off you, he kept switching from rubbing your arms to keep you warm and tucking pieces of hair behind your ears. After the day he’d had you was a welcome sight, reminding him that not everything in his life was terrible.

“Of course I did” You replied, confused as to why he would even doubt it. “I’d do anything for you.” Your confession came as a shock to both of you. You weren’t quite sure as to why you voiced your feelings, maybe it was the day of stress finally getting to you, or the realisation what Bucky and Sam was up to was dangerous and you feared losing him. But regardless of your reasoning, you didn’t regret saying it.

Bucky's breath hitched as his blue eyes searched yours, looking for the moment where you’d crack a smile and make a joke out of it. But that didn’t happen.

Gently, Bucky leant forward and pressed his lips against your forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back. “I don’t want you getting caught up in this doll.” His right hand cradled the back of your head as his eyes sought yours, trying to memorise every part of your face, committing it to memory.

“I’ll stay out of it, I promise. I just couldn’t bear the thought of you caged up again-” Your voice had become erratic as you processed the days events. Bucky pulled you into another hug, silencing you as he did, his metal hand rubbing up and down your back.

“I’ll be fine y’know that right? But I have to stop these people Y/N, the serum can’t end up in the wrong hands. I need you to trust me, to trust I know what I’m doing.”

You merely nodded in response, too caught up in the feeling of being in his arms.

Bucky pulled away from the hug and stroked your cheek, wiping away the tears you hadn’t realised had fallen. “Cmon, where’s that smile?”

You couldn’t resist his boyish charm and smiled back at him, although weakly.

“Attagirl”

__________________

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#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #tfatws

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tanyawritesstories · 3 years

Text

Frozen Miracles | The Mandalorian x reader

My first Din piece! I wrote this awhile ago before season 2 ended and only now am publishing it. Hope you enjoy 😊

Word count: 5.4k

Warnings: fluff, pregnant reader, detailed descriptions of birth, Din frustration, the child isn't chaotic for once

•••

He stood watching the Krayt Dragon meat roast, waiting for Peli to get done talking to his informant. He shuffled around impatiently, watching as the child stared longingly at his dinner.

Needless to say, Din was frustrated. The only lead he had on finding others like him had evaporated the second that marshal removed his helmet. He knew immediately that all the time and energy he spent getting to this point was a waste. By the end of that journey he had: saved a community, restored peace between cultures, slain a dragon, and acquired the imposter’s armor to return it to it’s rightful owners. It was by no means an unsuccessful mission, it just wasn’t the outcome he expected.

He was snapped out of his reverie by Peli shouting at her droid. She approached, telling him about the nearby covert within the sector. He absorbed her words, committing them to memory and hoping that this lead was more promising.

“I just have one favor to ask,” Peli added. Din merely turned his head towards her to show he was listening. “There is someone who needs a ride off this planet.”

His hands returned to their place on his hips, “What’s that gonna cost me? I’m not a taxi service.”

“I know, I know,” she said, “But they’re willing to pay you to take them to the nearest civilized planet.”

He sighed softly, looking at the ground. “What’s the catch?”

“No hyperdrive.”

His helmet snapped to look at her. “No, that’s a deal breaker. Hyperspace is the only thing keeping me safe. I can’t do it.” He gestured.

Peli sighed right back, putting her hands on her hips. “Look, the nearest habitable planet isn’t far away. Surely you can manage that? They won’t be difficult.”

“Why no light speed? What’s the reason for it?”

Peli turned and beckoned whoever this passenger was to come out from her office. Din didn’t know what he expected but it certainly wasn’t who came walking into the hangar.

A woman stepped out into the sand, looking cautiously at the two of them. She looked young, quite a bit younger than him. She was dressed in tan clothes, a floor-length skirt and a poncho that looked a few sizes too big, it hid the outline of her frame and made her look like she was drowning in the clothing. A thin sheet of cloth was draped on top of her head, falling over her shoulders like a veil, tied loosely under her chin, leaving her collarbone exposed and some of her hair visible.

Peli waved her over and the young woman slowly approached. Peli put her arm on the woman’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. “Her husband died eight months ago and she wants to get off Tatooine and start over somewhere new,” she explained.

“Why me? There are transports that can carry passengers,” he replied.

“She doesn’t trust them and she said you seemed safe,” Peli answered for the woman, who still hadn’t spoken a word.

Din’s silence left an unspoken question lingering in the air. What makes her think I’m safe? The woman seemed to sense this and began signing with her hands, using hand signals that Din could decipher.

I’ve read about Mandalorians before, and you have a child. You seem trustworthy.

“She says you seem trustworthy because you have a child with you,” Peli translated, “And she’s read about Mandalorians before.”

“Why can't she talk?” He asked.

“She hasn’t spoken since her husband was killed. I’ve known her for years, she used to talk all the time, she was really happy,” Peli said, a sympathetic expression coming to her face. The young woman looked at the ground, her face was emotionless and cold. She looked void of all happiness, empty and hollow, her lips set in a straight line that hadn’t curved into a smile in a long time.

“You never told me the reason for no hyperdrive,” he restated.

Peli and the woman made eye contact and the older woman nodded to her. The younger woman slowly lifted the bottom of her poncho to expose her swollen stomach. She was pregnant.

“Hyperspace could harm the baby, even kill it. She just wants to get off this planet, too many memories of her husband," Peli explained for the woman.

Din turned away, contemplating and weighing his options. The sound of credits jingling together made him turn to face them again. The young woman held a small, worn leather pouch out to him. He took it in his hands and opened it, revealing a large amount of credits.

"How much is this?"

The woman began to sign and Peli watched in order to translate, not knowing Din already knew what she was saying.

It's 5,000 credits. It's all I have.

"Five thousand credits," Peli said, "It's all that she has left."

He looked between her and the pouch of credits, closing it and tucking it into his belt. "Alright, let's go."

The young woman turned to Peli and gave her a quick hug before walking up the ramp into the Crest.

Din watched her as she disappeared within the metal hull of his ship.

"Hey."

Din turned back to Peli, who had begun gnawing on a piece of meat.

"Take care of her," the older mechanic said, "She's been through a lot. Don't get me wrong, she's tough, but that baby is the only good thing in her life right now."

He nodded, letting her know he had heard her words. He turned again to look at where she had entered his ship, wondering what he had just gotten himself into.

~~~~

He settled the Razor Crest into space and set a course to the nearest safe planet, a moon called Nexlar. Despite it being close it would still take several hours to get there, especially without the use of hyperspace.

His passenger had decided to wander down into the hull as soon as the ship was stable. He tried to stop her but it was of no use.

He climbed down the ladder and turned to face his bunk, pressing the control panel letting the door slide up.

"Kid?"

He turned around to look for the little green troublemaker, only to find him standing on a crate next to which their guest was sitting on the floor. Her back was to Mando as he watched her feed his miniature companion pieces of a juicy pink fruit. He took silent steps towards them and observed their interaction.

The child cooed and giggled happily with each morsel of food she fed him. He always ate so much, Din swore his stomach was a bottomless pit.

He watched the expressions on her face, however small they were. She didn't look as helpless or as sad. She almost looked happy and he saw the corner of her mouth twitch up when the child reached out for her.

She continued to feed him until she didn't have any more, holding her hands up to show the youngling that she was empty handed. The child made a sad whining sound, his ears drooping in disappointment and her eyebrows reacted with sadness at seeing him upset. She reached out and pressed a feather light touch to his little green cheek before picking him up and setting him down on the floor.

She must have seen Mando’s boots when she put the kid down, as she jumped back in surprise, a little gasp escaping her lips.

“Hey, it’s ok,” he said calmly. Even with him being slow and calm she still pushed herself away from him.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.” It took him a second to realize that she might think he doesn’t understand her. He didn’t exactly make it known that he knew her every word back at the hangar. So he took to her form of communication, signing with his hands as well.

Thank you for feeding him.

He could see the gears turning in her head through the expressions on her face. Starting on shock going to realization then to relief and maybe something akin to thankfulness.

You are welcome. I read that that specific fruit was healthy for children. She signed back.

“What’s your name?” he asked out loud. She signed individual letters until it spelled her name. “Y/N, is that right?” She nodded, the corner of her mouth turning up into a small smirk again.

“I’m going to hit the rack, why don’t you head up to the cockpit and try to get some sleep. That chair is much comfier than the floor.”

She began to get up but with most of her weight in the front she was having trouble. Din bent and reached out, grabbing onto her elbows and helping her to stand. She grunted with the effort of trying to stand while being pregnant. She held onto her stomach when she had made it to her feet, wincing in what was either pain or discomfort. Din made sure she could stand on her own before letting her go and watching to make sure she got up the ladder alright. He retrieved the child and set him down in his hammock before crawling beneath his hanging bed and laying down to get some rest himself.

~~~~

Din was woken up by the blaring alarm sounding from the cockpit. He rushed out of his bed and up the ladder, planting himself in his chair and flicking off the alarm. He turned to see the woman- Y/N - with a concerned look on her face, staring out the viewport. He followed her gaze to see the two X-wing fighters on either side of his ship. They were comming him.

He answered reluctantly, giving them the information they needed and hoping they would then leave him alone.

They didn't.

He was doing his best but wasn't good at lying under pressure. There was still some hope he could get out of this confrontation. That was until they asked about the prison.

Din forced the Crest into a dive towards the unknown planet they were currently above. He heard her gasp from behind him and brace herself against the walls. He was trying to lose them, he knew he couldn't outrun them.

"Hold on!" He said, veering towards an opening in the frozen cliffside.

He shot around the corner and disappeared into the cave, praying that the X-wings didn't see him. One of the engines hit against the side of the cave as it got narrower. He was going to have to put it down, there was no other option. The keel of the ship hit the ground and they slid, spinning until they were facing the opposite direction. Din was trying his best to get the thing under control but he was losing fast.

The Crest went over a rut in the ice and was launched several meters high before it crashed down to level ground again. Finally stopping when the stern collided hard with a solid wall of ice. They were all jolted forwards in their seats and their backs hit the chairs as it stopped.

Din rapidly hit switches and pressed buttons trying to discover the state of his ship, he got no reaction from his vessel but continued to try regardless. The woman groaned and he turned to look at her. She laid her head against the wall, her face contorted into an expression of pain. Both her arms were wrapped around her enlarged middle, her hands trembling.

The open comm crackled as the faint voices of the X-wing pilots faded out of range. Din tried more controls, failing to notice that his passenger had unbuckled herself and moved to try and check on his child.

The Crest lurched forward as the ice underneath it gave way. She stumbled and was thrown into the back of his chair, in turn making him jolt forwards. The entire ship began to move as the ice broke and soon it was falling through. Everything seemed to slow down as the Crest descended into a chasm. It hit the floor with astounding force and noise. It’s occupants were thrown around hard and the last thing Din remembered was the sound, before he was thrown forward and knocked unconscious.

~~~~

He came to, slowly moving his head a little, then his arm, then his whole body. Feeling returned to his limbs as he woke up. How long had he been out? It was freezing and frost had accumulated on his armor. He tried and failed on the controls, the Razor Crest wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

In his haste to figure out what had happened and attempts to find a solution he had forgotten about his passenger. A low groan reminded him that she was there. He turned around in the chair to see her body limp at the foot of the door. The tip of her nose and fingers were tinged a light blue and he noticed the draping had fallen off her head. Her clothes weren’t cut out for the cold, they were thin to combat the hot Tatooine temperatures, she would no doubt freeze to death if she didn't warm up soon.

He only had to take a couple steps to get to her, crouching down and shaking her gently. She opened her eyes and he grabbed under her arms, lifting her up. Even with his thick gloves he could feel how cold she was.

"You're freezing, we need to get you warm. Stay here, I'll find some blankets."

He set her down in a passenger seat and dropped down the ladder to inspect the damage. Luckily, the kid had stayed in his hammock, Din grabbed him and all the blankets he had and returned to the cockpit. She was shaking from the cold and had one hand pressed to her temple the other on her belly.

Din set the kid down in his chair and draped a blanket around the woman. She winced as she pulled her hand away from her head, blood covered her palm.

"You're injured.." he said. "I'll get a medkit, stay there." He dropped into the damaged hull once more, retrieving the medkit and crouching in front of her to check her wound.

"Let me see." He gently pushed her hand away to reveal a cut on her left temple, going into her hair. He inspected it, thankfully it wasn't deep and she appeared to not have suffered too much damage.

She pulled the thin shawl off where it fell on her shoulders and wiped her bloody hand on it. She held it out to him and motioned to her head. "Ok," he said, taking the cloth and carefully wiping away what blood he could. He cleaned her wound before applying a small bacta patch.

"That should do it," he said. He packed the medkit back up and tossed it behind him. She still looked to be in pain, now both her hands were on her stomach. "Is the baby ok?"

She moved her hands around, sighing in relief shortly after, then nodding.

Just kicking. She signed.

Before Din could do anything she took his hand and placed it on her belly. Through her layers and his gloves he could feel the small jolts from the life growing within her. There was something so intimate about it. He felt like it was something he shouldn't be witnessing, it was too personal and he was a stranger. She let go of his hand to sign.

Can you feel it? She asked with a smile.

"Yes," he answered, "that's amazing." Despite having let go of his hand, Din kept it in place, feeling as the rowdy little one settled down.

"I need to patch up the hull, I'll be right back," he bid.

I'll watch him for you. She signed, pointing to the child who was playing with a switch.

"Thank you."

Din set about fixing his ship as much as he could, it was in worse shape than he thought. What felt like a couple hours passed and he stopped to take a break and warm up inside. As he walked back around to the front he noticed footprints in the snow leading towards an opening in the cave wall. He looked inside the ship and saw that the kid was sleeping soundly in his bed, wrapped in blankets. She was the one who had left.

Din followed the footsteps into a path of ice tunnels, looking around cautiously. He touched the side of his helmet whenever he could no longer see her tracks. His HUD illuminating her imprints in thermal colors. He continued to follow for what felt like a long time, how far in here had she gone? He hoped nothing had happened to her.

That hope disappeared when he heard a yell come from further in. Din broke into a run, sprinting towards the noise. He rounded a corner and stopped dead in his tracks.

Y/N was sitting waist deep in a small pool of steaming water. She had stripped off her skirt and was only wearing her shirt which was off white and wet to above her stomach, nearly see through. She was in immense pain, her face contorted into agony. She leaned against the edge of the pool, her head resting on the cold snow. One hand gripping the edge so hard her knuckles turned white, the other on her stomach, which looked to be the source of her pain.

He rushed to her side and kneeled in the snow. "Are you alright? What happened?" He asked, looking her over frantically.

She didn't sign, just put her finger on her stomach then dragged it down and pointed out. It suddenly became obvious what was happening to her.

She was in labor.

Din tried not to panic but he was having a hard time. He had no idea how to handle this situation.

“Uh, what can I do?”

She signed quickly and her hands moved so fast and were so shaky that Din almost couldn’t understand her.

I can do this. I just need you to do one thing.

“What, what do you need me to do?”

Her response was clear.

Catch.

She shifted herself and Din helped her so her legs were pointed towards him. “Uh, um, ok. I think I can do that.” He hoped his voice didn’t come through the modulator as shaky and nervous as he felt like it sounded.

She continued to groan and shout in pain and Din wished he could do more. He hesitated to touch her but wanted to support the woman and give her strength, he gently placed a hand on her bent knee.

"C'mon, you can do this. Remember to breathe," he encouraged.

He also didn't want to look down. The water was murky but shallow and he had briefly glimpsed her lower nudity when she turned towards him. Knowing that he would have to reach down there and literally catch her child soon was making him sweat underneath his armor.

Catch, he was going to have to use his hands. He looked at his gloved hands, the gloves had been everywhere and were no doubt dirty and not safe for a newborn. He couldn't touch her with them. Din took a minute and shucked off his gloves, setting them beside him. He reached over to her pile of discarded clothes and grabbed the blanket she'd had around her, setting it between his legs to place the baby on right away.

He made sure to keep his own breathing steady as he looked down, seeing the head of the baby slowly coming through her opening. He took a deep breath and urged her on, watching in mild horror as the child came through more and more.

Din put his hands into the water and helped get the baby’s shoulder through, as she had instructed him. Part of him wished he hadn’t taken his gloves off as his hands were now coated in slimy liquids.

With a last strong push her baby came all the way out and into Din’s hands. He gasped on reflex, it was smaller than he thought it would be. He quickly raised the baby out of the water and wrapped it in the blanket. He pulled his vibroblade out of his boot, about to cut the cord. He looked to her for permission, getting a nod and a warm smile from the exhausted woman.

He broke through it, finally severing the connection between mother and child. She sat up all the way and reached out to him, Din put the babe in her arms and sat back in the snow, almost as exhausted as her.

He looked over at the woman, cradling her baby against her chest, a huge smile on her face. She looked at him, signing.

It’s a girl.

“Congratulations,” he replied.

Thank you, for everything.

“You’re welcome,” Din sighed. “What are you going to name her?”

The woman thought for a moment before looking at him with a smile.

Mandi, after you.

Din’s eyebrows raised under his helmet. “Me? Why me?”

You helped deliver her. It's the least I can do.

Din stared and she paused, both of them thinking.

I will get you more credits when I'm settled, I know this wasn't part of the deal.

He sighed again. "Don't worry about that right now, we need to get you two back to the Crest." She held her child out to Din and he carefully held the tiny girl in his arms the way she showed him. He turned his back to her so she could dry off and dress, meanwhile also becoming enamored with the baby in his arms. Her small pink face peeked through the warm confines of the blanket, eyes closed, peaceful. It all suddenly became real to him.

This was another man's child that he helped bring into the world. A tiny human that he physically saw come to life in his hands. He felt honored, this experience should have been for someone else, the man she loved. But he was gone and Din was, for now, his replacement in a life changing event. Din reached a bare hand up to touch her cheek. The newborn stirred but didn't open her eyes. He held her tighter, having a sudden urge to protect her and keep her warm and safe. She was only about 20 minutes old and already had Din wrapped around her tiny fingers. This must be the same thing that happened when he'd found his child. Almost like a kind of hypnosis, drawing him in, bringing out a side of him he hadn't known he had.

He heard a pained groan and snow crunching and swiftly turned around, finding the woman was fully clothed and had fallen. She was still recovering and her body was too weak to walk just yet, she had tried and fallen when her limbs gave out. He kneeled beside her and she held his gloves out to him. He thanked her and took the gloves, transferring the child back into her arms. He donned his gloves and tugged off his cape. Since using her blanket for the baby, Y/N was left without anything to keep her warm. Din wrapped his cape around her and picked her up like a bride, carrying her back to the Crest.

Thankfully, his own little one had stayed put the whole time but was now awake and rummaging about. Din set her down on his bed and got her more blankets. He wagered he could get some more repairs done and wandered outside again.

~~~~

The sun was going down and it was getting colder than it already was, Din stepped inside and sealed the ship as well as he could for the night. He walked to his bunk to check on his passengers. He found her laying on her side, fast asleep. Mandi laid in front of her, also asleep. He also found his own son, asleep, on the other side of Mandi. Y/N had an arm lightly wrapped around both children, each of them had ahold of one of her fingers. If it wasn't so cold, he might've melted at the sight. It was so pure, so domestic. Something he never thought he'd see in relation to him. The thought of them all belonging to him passed through his mind briefly. He knew that could never be a possibility, especially for him.

He grabbed some food for himself and made his way up to the cockpit, finally intent on eating something. As soon as he made it up there, he heard a baby crying from below. He quickly made his way back down to find Mandi crying and wiggling around in her mother’s arms. Y/N stirred in her sleep and Din carefully scooped the baby into his arms, not wanting her tired mother to wake up, she needed sleep. Din could watch the baby for a while, he could deal with his child, and he was much worse than Mandi. Din rocked the little girl in his arms until she stopped crying, which wasn’t long. He carefully climbed back into the cockpit and laid the baby in his son’s crib. He wasn’t using it right now. He rocked the floating bed and Mandi’s face softened into calm.

“There you go, all better,” he said softly. He took one hand out of his glove again and ran his thumb over the back of her hand. Her skin was smooth and warm against Din’s blaster calloused hands.

“You need some sleep, tiny one, so does your mother. So you’re stuck with me right now.”

Din continued to talk to the tiny girl until he was sure she was sleeping. He then removed his helmet and was finally able to eat. He was nearly finished when he turned to reach across the controls and bumped his helmet, causing it to fall and hit the floor with a loud clang. Mandi was immediately woken up and began crying. Din reacted fast and took the baby into his arms, rocking her again.

"Shh, shh it's ok. I'm here, you're safe."

Din allowed a smile to spread across his exposed face, able to see how precious she was without his helmet in the way. He simply couldn't resist the sight of this perfect little one in his arms. He lowered his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Just as he pulled back, the little girl opened her eyes and looked up at him. He was shocked for a moment, this was the first time he'd seen her open her eyes and she was looking at him...without his helmet.

Din looked around to find it lying on the floor near his feet. He wondered if this was technically breaking the Creed since he knew the baby would never remember what he looked like. But nevertheless, he picked the Beskar barrier up off the floor and set it on his head. For once, he was hating having to put it back on.

~~~~

Din didn't remember falling asleep in his chair in the cockpit, not to mention with little Mandi cradled against his stomach, also asleep. He looked around, how much time had passed? He wasn't sure. He thought he heard a faint sizzling sound and his helmet enhanced his hearing. It sounded like someone was welding.

Din got up and set Mandi back into the crib without waking her up. He climbed quietly down into the hull and found the kid asleep in his hammock, but the woman was missing. The sizzling sound was louder and came in increments. Din exited the ship, following the noise to the other side of the ship. There he found the woman kneeling in the snow, tools in hand, repairing his ship. He was stunned, she had just given birth not even 24 hours ago and here she was fixing his ship, and doing a great job as well.

He cleared his throat to get her attention and she looked to him and smiled.

"What're you doing out here?"

Fixing the ship.

"I see that," he replied, "You should be inside where it's warmer."

But I can help, Peli taught me everything she knows. Let me help you.

Din sighed. If this woman was right and she could help fix the Crest then he wanted her help, but he also wanted her to stay safe. “Alright, I’ll start on the other side. If we work together we might get this done before nightfall.”

The woman nodded and got back to work, Din grabbed more tools and started on a different part of the ship. They worked, taking breaks when too cold, and made huge progress on the Crest’s repairs.

~~~~

“I think that’s all we can do with the tools we have,” Din surmised, “We need to get to a hangar and have someone finish the rest.”

The woman stood next to him, looking over their work with a proud look on her face. She had fashioned a sash out of a blanket that went across her torso, Mandi was nestled safe inside, held against her mother’s chest. Y/N also had his little womp rat balanced on her hip.

They had welded and wired everything as best as they could, and managed to patch the hole in the hull with spare durasteel panels.

Shall we get off this frozen rock now?

“That sounds good to me,” Din agreed.

They boarded the ship and Din took the kid while Y/N climbed into the cockpit. He went over the hull again before joining her, setting the kid in one of the passenger seats. He turned and saw her in his chair, flipping switches and pressing buttons. The engines roared to life and she checked out the viewport to make sure they were working correctly. He watched her as she got the ship ready for takeoff, another thing he didn’t know she could do. He was pleasantly surprised.

Over the last few days he had learned she was a great mechanic, took amazing care of both the kids, and now he learned she was also a pilot who knew her way around a ship. He put one arm on the headrest of his seat the other on his hip as he watched her expertly handle the machinery. She was just about to grab the steering handles when she stopped herself and looked up at him. She looked apologetic and began signing to him.

I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I haven’t flown a ship in so long I just got excited.

She bowed her head at him and got out of the chair, taking one behind him. He chuckled. “It’s ok, maybe as we get closer to Nexlar I’ll let you pilot.” He looked back in time to see her face light up with excitement. He smiled under his helmet and turned back to get the Crest in the air.

He was able to get out of the cave and back into the blackness of space with more ease than he expected. He breathed a sigh of relief when everything held and he was able to set their course for the destined planet.

She tapped him on the shoulder and signed that she was taking the kids down into the hull to try and get them to sleep. He thanked her and watched as she climbed down the ladder, handing the child to her once she was down.

It must have only been about half an hour before he heard someone calling him.

“Mando!”

The voice was broken and strained, whoever was talking was having a very hard time with it. He turned to face the doors.

“Mando!”

A little louder. It was a woman’s voice, she was talking, calling for him. She called him again, panic in her broken and unused voice.

Din jumped out of his chair and quickly climbed down into the hull. Y/N was standing at the foot of his bunk, staring down the length of the ship. He followed her gaze to see all the storage crates and lose equipment suspended in mid air, floating with nothing holding them.

He walked to his bunk only to see his child sound asleep in his hammock. If it wasn’t him then who…

He looked at Y/N to see her concerned and panic stricken face, they both looked down at the same time. Little Mandi was awake and smiling gleefully, waving her tiny limbs around, the suspended cargo moving with her small motions.

“What’s happening?” Y/N croaked out, scared and worried about her baby.

Din sighed as the information sunk in. Not another one.

#star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #star wars

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handy-dandy-monster-candy · 3 years

Text

Jayson, part Two

Rating: NSFW Length: 2381 Pairing: Male Crocodilian Lizardfolk x Male Reader (both cis)

xxx

If you thought Jayson was attractive in athleisure wear, he’s even more of a heart-throb in his usual streetwear, sporting a well-maintained leather jacket over a tank top and steel-toed boots. He greets you with a tiny bouquet that he fashions into a corsage for you, and then he takes you to an arcade with a beat-up facade but a lively interior. He tells you that his brother used to take him here when he was little more than a hatchling, and he’s happy to support a business that’s still thriving when it still has an active gaming community and good food.

He comes prepared with rolls of quarters and a competitive spirit, and you spent hours playing air hockey and head-to-head fighting games. He can barely squeeze into the seats for the racing games but that doesn’t stop him from laughing, and you laugh right along with him for what feels like forever. He takes no prisoners shooting hoops and you think your eyes would water if you gave the same focus he does to chasing down the ghosts in Mrs. Pac-Man, but after all the tickets are traded in, you get a giant stuffed gator—“My less attractive cousin,” says Jayson—and matching mood rings to commemorate the occasion. Putting them on feels like you’re having a shotgun wedding in Vegas somewhere, surrounded by neon lights and the wiggly 90’s patterns on the carpets.

You stash the gator in his truck and he takes you out to dinner at the mall, and you have to laugh when he balances curly fries on his snout like a carb-based moustache. Jayson seems to thrive when you’re laughing—he seems to magnify your energy and enjoys building you up as a result. You have some spare time before your movie date, so you go window shopping and try on all kinds of different outfits. You’re surprised to find that Jayson looks great sporting a cowboy hat, and you laugh when he pairs it with a set of pinstripe bell-bottoms in a pretty shade of lilac.

You lose track of time and have to scurry into the movie theatre like a pair of giggly teenagers, nearly spilling your drinks on your way up to the back of the darkened room where the bigger seats are. You spend most of the film trying not to be too obnoxious to the other film-goers, but you’re too into Jayson to focus on whatever action flick you both chose at the box office, and it’s clear that Jayson feels the same. You flick popcorn into his open mouth and he wraps his arm around your shoulders, tucking you as close as he can. The armrest between you gets frustrating for him, however, and it’s not long until you find yourself sitting on one of Jayson’s huge thighs.

You don’t have the heart to tell him that it’s murder for your tailbone; his muscles are hard as steel.

You whisper to him that you may as well have become that stuffed gator, so dearly does he hold you, but he whispers, “You’re easier on the eyes,” back to you in the dark. You spend the second half of the movie cuddling against his chest and playing with his big, thick hand, toying with the webbing between his fingers until he chuckles and tells you that it tickles him. His lap becomes much less uncomfortable as time goes on, and you realise with a flutter in your chest that Jayson’s nerves had led to tense muscles, and he’s relaxing around you as time goes on.

By the time you get back to his truck, the streetlamps have been lit for hours, and you’re both reluctant to stop touching. Soft pop music floats from the speakers when the engine turns over, and Jayson reaches over to turn it down even lower just to talk with you. He starts planning your next date with all the eagerness of a child at Christmas, and you’re not even the least bit offended by his presumptuousness; this date has been the best you’ve had in a long time—possibly ever. The chemistry is there, bubbling away below the surface as you hold hands at red lights.

When you get home, he walks you to the door of your apartment and squeezes your hands before you finally part, leaving you a butterfly-addled mess as you watch him drive away. He texts you when he gets home safely and you shoot messages back and forth late into the night until you fall asleep cuddling your new stuffed toy, cell phone in hand and a smile on your face. He texts you good morning the next day and asks if he can swing by to take you out for coffee, which you happily accept.

This begins a ritual of going on little mini-dates all throughout the week, and you start hanging out at each others’ apartments after you finish up at the office or Jayson at his studio, cooking each other meals and watching more movies. One night, you both fall asleep on your couch and by the time you wake, it’s the early morning hours, so you invite Jayson into your bedroom and let him sleep with you in your bed. You learn very quickly that Jayson is a massive cuddler, which would normally bother you through overheating except for the fact that Jayson is cool to the touch and a kleptotherm in his sleep. You find him as refreshing as the cool side of the pillow most nights he spends over, and it’s cute to watch him burrow under the covers for warmth.

You end up all but moving into his apartment, mostly for his comfort. His apartment is much bigger since he’s huge, and while you’ve never minded your little cubbyhole, you certainly welcome the change just to see him walk through doors without having to duck. You’re both still as tactile as ever, but it’s never gone further than a few heated kisses and heavy petting—something you’re determined to change tonight. You spend all day swinging wildly between knowing that everything will be fine and anxiety over the possibility of making an ass of yourself, but when the time comes, you feel an odd sense of calm.

“What’s all this?” Jayson asks when he gets out of the shower, eyeing the chair you’ve placed in the living room and meandering over to sit on it without so much as waiting for your response.

“A present,” you say, shrugging out of your bathrobe and exposing your form-fitting outfit. You’d spent the whole week worrying about what to wear, but you finally found something that made you look and feel the sexiest you’ve ever felt. You put on the music you’d been practising to and approach Jayson, who’s now looking at you like he’s seeing you for the first time.

“Oh, yeah?” he prompts, reaching out towards your hips. You bat his hands away with a flirty smile—denying him his touch for the first time.

“Yeah,” you reply in a sultry purr, stroking down his bare chest before you step away and begin to dance. Jayson keeps his eyes on you in a way that he’s never done before, making heat pool low in your belly as you sway your hips and maneuver around his chair. You pepper little touches on his skin here and there as you go, pulling away before he can react or reach out to you. This seems to rankle and rouse Jayson as time goes on, making him twitch and fidget in his chair until you finally settle on his lap.

You are not expecting to sit directly on the mass straining against the crotch of his jeans.

“Jayson!” you laugh, and he laughs along with you, tension releasing from his body.

“What?” he chuckles, greedily stroking cool-hot lines along your back and sides. “Can’t blame a guy for getting excited. You plan this all for me?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, suddenly feeling shy. “We’ve been taking it slow. I figured it was time we got to know each other better.”

“Mm,” Jayson hums, looking you over from head to toe. “I like the lace.”

“I thought you might,” you say around a smile, snapping at the waistband of the lace panties you’d made sure peeked up over the waistband of your bottoms. You pull off the top half of your clothes so that you and Jayson are both shirtless, biting your lip as you stroke along the smooth scales of his chest. “Well? Take me to bed.”

“Yes, sir,” Jayson replies, hefting you up into his arms and tossing you over his shoulder to fireman carry you into the bedroom. There, he carefully deposits you onto the bed and strips out of his jeans, letting you get your first look at the pink, wet cock that’s slipped out of the slit in his body. It’s long and ribbed, thick at the base and tapered into a sharp point at the tip. You manage to give it a kiss before Jayson gently pushes you away, saying, “Not now, baby. I’m about to blow.”

“Already?” you blurt, surprised.

Jayson laughs. “That dance was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I wish I’d had a camera.”

You blush, huffing your amusement. “If you’d tried to record it, you’d be out on the couch by yourself right now.”

“Duly noted.” Jayson gestures toward the pillows. “Strip down and lie back. I wanna see what I’m working with.”

“Yes, sir,” you purr, playfully batting your lashes at the man before you do as he asks. You’d taken the liberty of setting out a small selection of lubricants and toys earlier while Jayson was in the shower—something he notices now.

“Gonna have to prep yourself,” he says apologetically, wiggling the clawed fingers on his hands.

You grimace, then shake your head, moving to grab one of your favourites from the nightstand. “I was planning on it.”

“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” he asks, amused and impressed as he climbs up onto the bed to join you.

“Only obsessively for the past two weeks,” you casually reply, mirroring his grin before you get to work opening yourself for his viewing pleasure. Jayson watches you like a starved man watching through the window into a bakery, practically salivating at all of the treats he couldn’t get his hands on. As you work, squirming on your fingers and then toys, you notice a strange gurgling noise coming from Jayson, somewhere between a growl and a click. You stop mid-thrust when you realise what it is. “Are you purring?”

Jayson laughs, embarrassed. “Yeah,” he says, stroking along the insides of your thighs. “My kind does that when we want in.”

“That’s so fucking cute,” you reply around your delighted smile, urging Jayson down into your own brand of kisses. Lizardfolk don’t exactly have soft, pliable lips, but his long tongue delves deep into your mouth, tangling with yours and leaving you breathless.

“I think that’s enough,” Jayson whispers after another long interim wherein you stretch yourself out, helping you pull the toy you were using out and stroking your skin before he lines himself up. “Ready?”

You nod, biting your lip as you watch him push inside you until your eyes roll back and you groan from deep in your chest. “Oh, fuck,” you murmur, scrabbling blindly and finding Jayson already reaching for you, fingers sliding between yours until you hit webbing. “Sunny.”

“I’m here,” Jayson murmurs back, voice soft and strained. “Gods, you’re a vice.”

You can only make a gurgling noise of your own as he slowly and carefully works his way in, relief flooding you both when he finally bottoms out. “Is it in?” you slur, giggling drunkenly at the endorphins rushing through you.

Jayson snorts sharply, startled into a guffaw. “Fuck you.”

“Thought we were doing that already.”

“Not yet,” says Jayson, chuckling softly. “Hold onto me.”

You barely have time to do as you’re bid before he’s jackhammering into you, pounding shout after shout of ecstasy from your throat as you cling to his muscles and the bedding. Jayson is a skilled lover, changing his tempo and how hard he fucks you until you’re all but speaking in tongues, toes curling and legs clinging around his waist as he plays your body like a fiddle. He knows exactly when and where to touch you after just one round, and after what feels like hours of marathon sex, you tap yourself out on his arm.

“Mercy,” you gasp, chest heaving and dick spent and resting on your belly in a puddle of your own cum.

“Already?” Jayson laughs around his own panting, relenting and cuddling down against your chest with a satisfied purr. “You need to work on your stamina.”

“Yeah, well, you need to—“ You break off into incoherent mumbles, seeing stars. It takes you a full minute of internal negotiations to get your arms to cooperate with you, and then you wrap them around Jayson’s shoulders, toes wiggling against your boyfriend’s thick, scaly tail.

“You look wrung out,” Jayson murmurs, looking apologetic.

“Thanks, hun.”

“No,” he snorts, embarrassed now. “I mean, I was going to offer to help you shower.”

“Ooh,” you coo, sighing wistfully as you consider your jelly legs and the distance to the bathroom. “Carry me?”

“I was planning on it,” Jayson laughs, carefully pulling out and cuddling you up against his chest before he makes his way out of the bedroom.

“Oh, yeah?” you mumble, nuzzling against his collarbones and sighing again. His skin feels so good against yours. “Well, I bet you weren’t planning on me falling in love with you.”

Jayson chuckles as he steps into the bathroom, turning on the shower with one hand. “No, but I was hoping you would.”

“Really?” You’re momentarily distracted by the warmth of the shower’s spray against your back when Jayson steps in with you, and you melt like putty against his chest.

“As much as I love you,” he murmurs into your ear, making your heart dance a giddy little merengue in your chest. You smile against his skin and bury your face against his neck, chuckling as a thought strikes you.

You were going to be useless at Latin night tomorrow.

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