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runningfrom2am · 6 months

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leveling the playing field VI

summary: you didn't meet the requirements for the plinth prize, only to find out that you're not just missing out on that- you're missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime. your friend wants to help, because maybe you can help each other.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.6k (she's long today DAMN)

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and discussion of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing

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a/n: omg it finally happened?? i couldn't resist anymore i had to :,)

anyway i wanted to pop in for a rare note and say thank you so so much to everyone reading this!! it means so much to me that people are enjoying this as much as i am enjoying writing it :)

so if you are and you wouldn't mind,, please reblog or leave your thoughts in the replies! it really helps me out so that way it can reach more people, and also it really helps motivate me to actually keep writing it bc i'll be reminded people want me to :).

thank you for reading this long ass authors note! and thanks for making it this far in the fic!!

i promise it's not over yet ;) we've still got a long way to go! so hopefully i'll see y'all soon when the next part comes out !

xoxo, raye

You walked back to the academy, still too high on adrenaline to even consider sleeping at that point. By the time Coryo made it back in, it was nearly eight am. You totally understand him wanting to get a bit of extra sleep, considering the night you just had- but who knows how long he was with Dr. Gaul.

Other mentors had started to arrive before he did, and almost everyone made it clear they didn't want to speak with you. You didn't have the energy to chat anyway, you didn't want to. You're endlessly relieved when Coryo arrives, notifying you of his presence with a hand on your shoulder. You jump at this, regardless of his effort to not scare you.

The chair scrapes across the floor and you feel everyone's eyes on you at the dramatic reaction. To him, it really wasn't shocking.

"Sorry- I'm sorry." You chuckle, quickly getting up to give him his spot back.

"Have you slept?" He asks, making no effort to reclaim the desk, noticing how your hands are shaking as you motion for him to sit.

You aren't sure what the safer answer is. Yes, I slept while I was supposed to be watching over Lucy Gray? Or no, I'm still running on the two hours I got a couple of days ago? Neither is very promising, so you decide to just be honest.

"No, uh, I've been watching for Lucy Gray." You point to the screen, unable to control the trembling of your hand as you do. "I couldn't sleep if I wanted to, so I just decided to start drinking coffee a few hours ago. Might as well commit." You explain, trying to force positivity into your tone and a smile on your face.

Coryo eyes you warily. "You should go home. Get some rest."

"No! No, I'm fine." You insist. "I'm not missing it."

"Go home and sleep." He says again, sternly this time. You tend to listen to him when he's commanding so he clung to that approach, but the look in your eyes immediately makes him regret it.

You look down, then back to your seat on the bench. You take a shaky breath before locking eyes with the blonde again. You're full of impulses that contradict each other. To listen to him, to snap and tell him not to speak to you like that, or to storm out and never come back. Realistically, he is under a ridiculous amount of stress. You can't blame him for being a little commandeering. After all, it's what he is meant to do. It's what he's been raised for. "I told you. I can't."

Realization dawns on him and he stares at you for a second, eyes widening. "Right." He nods slightly, shrugging off his coat and holding it out to you. "Just go lay down on the bench." He accentuates his point by shaking the jacket.

You smile, taking it gratefully. "Thank you, Coryo."

"'Course." He nods, finally moving to sit down once you walk away. You settle down on the bench and curl up, your head resting on his bunched-up uniform jacket like it's a pillow. You're not sure you've ever been so comfortable, and you're asleep within a minute.

Coriolanus wonders if his coat will smell like raspberries when you return it.

"What's he doing?" You hear Coryo's accusatory voice before you even open your eyes. As you try and shift, adjusting to the sounds of everyone around you, you come back to reality. No wonder your neck is sore as soon as you sit up, sore from your wooden bed, with no time to really wake up before you're hit with the realization of what's happening on the screen.

"I-I don't know!" Lysistrata says, assumingly replying to him.

You're squinting at the lights as you adjust, the figures of Lucy Gray and Jessup becoming clear as he chases her in her rainbow dress out of the tunnel and across the floor, booking it toward a pile of debris that would allow her to climb up into the stands.

"What's happening?" You ask pointlessly, standing now that you see Coryo is as well.

Lysistrata looks at you, shrugging helplessly as she stands next to Coryo.

"Hey! You promised me that if I-" You start, pacing toward the girl with determination, anger burning up in your chest and in your eyes.

"Y/N/N, wait-" Coriolanus holds his hand out to stop you, effectively his attack dog, from getting any closer. From telling her off for blowing your deal. He squints closer at the screen, not saying a word, just leaving you in a limbo- unsure what to do.

As the camera zooms in on the tribute, his theory is confirmed. Jessup has a white foam surrounding his mouth, and Coryo looks at you knowingly. Had Lucy Gray poisoned him? Surely not, he was her only ally. It was too early to take him out, but maybe she didn't think that through, maybe-

"Rabies." You say, hardly above a whisper, eyes locked back on the screen now as well. "That's why the medications didn't help."

Coriolanus is relieved by this explanation, it makes so much more sense. But only knowing what's wrong doesn't help Lucy Gray, Jessup is still fully feral, chasing her up in the stands on wobbly legs as she makes her way to what is left of a concession stand.

"If she can just stay away, he won't last long in this state." Lysistrata says, looking on with sadness in her eyes. "Poor Jessup..."

"Coryo." You say, ignoring her sympathies, seeing Coryo's mind running miles a minute trying to figure out what to do. "Do you remember those posters in the war? When the rabies breakout happened?" You ask, holding onto his arm, giving him a light shake to snap him out of it. "They said that-"

You don't get to finish before he's reaching for the comunicuff. Water, of course.

"Wait." Lysistrata stops him, grabbing the arm that was reaching for the screen.

"Don't touch him! Jessup's going to die anyway! All we can do is try to keep him away- you just said that!" You fire off at her.

"I know, Y/N." She lets him go, holding her hands out defensively. "Let me do it. He's my tribute, after all."

"Lyssie... You don't have to do that." Coriolanus tells her, and you feel guilty for snapping on her like that. She was just trying to help.

"If Jessup can't win, I want it to be Lucy Gray. That's what he would want, too." She explains, stepping back to her desk, tapping away at the screen and sending in water bottles on faulty drones that are more likely to knock the tributes out and smash the bottle than successfully deliver it to their hand.

Thankfully, this is what you want. You watch quietly as Jessup is bombarded with drones programmed to seek out his features, and Lucy Gray drops behind some of the seats to avoid any flying glass or stray drones. He swings helplessly at them with a board he picked up somewhere along the chase, and you glance at Lyssie for only a second, which is long enough to pick up on the fact that she's crying. God, that's probably your fault.

He trips and falls off the stands, bones audibly cracking on impact. Everyone in the room is silent as Lucy Gray reemerges, climbing down to be at his side.

"God, please don't let him die alone..." Lysistrata whispers, hardly audible even to Coriolanus, who's stood right next to her.

"She won't." He whispers back. "It's not her style."

You swallow, drowning in your own guilt while Lucy Gray is talking to the dying boy, stroking his hair and telling him to go to sleep until his eyes lose all sense of life, chest halting. She closes his eyes gently, which cues the buzzer announcing his death.

"Lyssie..." You stop her as she stands to leave, her eyes glassy. "I'm sorry, I didn't know what you were doing."

She laughs slightly, more tears spilling from her eyes. "Y/N. I know you, okay? I get it. Don't apologize if you don't mean it." Until she finished speaking, you didn't realize her laughs were bitter. "You can't keep taking out your anger issues on everyone else. I'm sick of it, everyone is sick of it- sick of you." She says, not giving you the chance to defend yourself before she's gone. You did mean it, but it's not like she'd ever believe that. You had done this to yourself.

You straighten your shoulders, turning to face the screen again. "Lysistrata will come around." Coryo says, sensing the tension radiating off your skin like a heater.

You just slightly shake your head. "Maybe I... Maybe I should go home. Just for a bit." You say, but it comes out more as a question.

"You should stay." He states, offhandedly sending some food in for Lucy Gray before turning to face you fully. He could guess why you don't want to go home, whether or not you were explicitly told to not return until the games were done, though, he doesn't know. Either way, for him, it wasn't worth the risk.

"Actually, yeah, you're right." You sniff. "I'm just having a moment. I'll be fine." You force a smile, blinking rapidly to push back those stubborn tears that wanted to spill.

"No, no that's not what I meant. I just meant..." Coryo trails off.

"It's okay." You smile and nod. "Can I just get some air, then? I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Please. Don't rush on my account." He nods. "But don't stray too far."

"Yes sir, Mister President." You joke, giving him a lazy salute before heading for the door.

You had been gone for a while, far too long for Coriolanus's comfort. Lucy Gray retreated into the tunnels after receiving the food he sent and seeing Reaper come back into the clearing. Now, with Lucky rambling on about the weather again, he felt like he would snap.

He double-checks once more that Lucy Gray is, in fact, still hiding, before he gets up to go after you.

It doesn't take Coryo long to find you, due to him tracking down the sound of crying in the hall. No doubt in his mind it was you, but he'd never seen you cry before.

You stop at the sound of footsteps, frantically wiping your eyes and nose on your sleeve as you make an effort to stand. By then, he's in front of you.

"Don't get up." He says, crouching down in front of you. He doesn't know what to say, he doesn't know exactly why you're crying, or how to help. He wishes he did, he would do just about anything. "What do you need?"

You shake your head, forcing a smile and trying to stand anyway. Coryo stops you with a hand on your shoulder. "I-I don't.." You start, but as soon as you speak the tears start flowing again and you feel like you can't breathe.

"It's okay. Hey, you're okay." He says, pulling you into his arms, effectively onto his lap as he sits back. One thing he knows that works with you is a hug- it's all he can do while he thinks over what could be the root of your problem, or was it just that Lysistrata's comment pushed you over the edge? You were overtired, overworked, and this easily could have been the last straw.

Through your tears, you try to tell him that you're fine, but you just stutter and spit and you know you're a mess- a mortification to your family.

"I'm not sick of you, Y/N." Coryo says, rubbing your back. Feeling your hair between his fingers and trying not to tangle it or pull it by mistake. "I could never get sick of you."

It surprises him when you laugh. Of all things, a laugh. It was just so you.

His statement was more of a confession to himself than to you, and when you pull back he's scared. Was it not about that? Was he way off base, or incredibly unhelpful and somehow offended you?

You sniff, wiping your eyes again. "Thanks," You chuckle, shaking your head. "But you don't have to say that."

Coryo tilts his head, confusion knitted into his expression. "I do." He insists, able to look into your eyes now. "I have to tell you that because it's the truth."

You sigh, smiling slightly. Sadly. "You don't see it."

"See it? See what?"

You just shrug, making no attempts to move away. His hands on you, the feeling of him almost surrounding you is comforting. You want to live in it forever, but you know you can't. "Just... That I'm me, I guess." You say, voice cracking. "You're unflinching to it." You're abrasive sometimes, defensive, and some would call you an overall angry person. He doesn't see you that way, and you're not sure why. Today you were slapped in the face with the fact that your actions have consequences more serious than what your parents can make up for with money or unwritten agreements.

"What's wrong with being you?" He asks rhetorically, not giving you a chance for you to argue before he continues. "You did the right thing. They're jealous- that's all it is. None of them fight for what they want like you, they just sit around and wait for it to be handed to them on a silver platter, and you could too, but you're better than that. You're better than them. Stronger than them."

With his hands now moved up to your shoulders, he's shaking you gently, trying to get your mind to soak in what he's telling you. To believe it, because he knows he's right. The reason others avoid you is the very reason he is drawn to you- your ambition is unmatched, except, maybe, by his own.

"Do you understand, Y/N?" Coryo asks, pressing one hand to your cheek and staring deep into your eyes as if he could somehow look into your mind and grab hold of what Lysistrata said, replacing it with his vision of who you are. "You are perfect. They are fools."

Your smile had gone, ready to fight his point, but it returned by the time his rant was done, blush creeping its way across your cheeks and over your nose. "Perfect is a bit of a strong word." You speak softly. "Don't you think?"

"No. I don't." He shakes his head slightly, running his thumb across your cheek to wipe away a stray tear.

The air became thick with everything he said circulating in your head like a carousel. A relentless spinning cycle with Coryo's every word circling around itself and caging in your panic. The spinning seemed to slow after a moment, as if giving you a chance to catch your breath.

Seemingly, in your experience with him, compliments were few and far between. To others, anyway. Not that you were keeping track, but if receiving compliments from Coriolanus Snow was a race you would be winning by a mile, and that's exactly what it felt like every time.

He tilts your chin up again, the same way he had just a couple of days ago in the arena, drawing your eyes back to his. It takes every ounce of his focus to keep his hand from shaking.

Truth be told, the desperate honesty in his eyes was enough to convince you he was right. You are better than them, smarter than them, stronger than them. If Lysistrata and your other classmates chose to hate you for that, that was because of fear. You'd be lying if you tried to say it didn't make you feel better, even powerful. Coriolanus thought it was right, so how could it not be?

You smile, nodding slightly within his grasp. "You're right, aren't you?"

"Always." He validates your entire thought process just like that.

You can't help it anymore. The power of his words push you past the brink, leaning forward to meet his lips with your own. Coryo pulls you forward with his firm and gentle hold on your cheek, meeting you half way. And as he kisses you, heart pounding out of his chest, you both feel fucking invincible.

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starry-eyes-love · 1 month

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Calm Me Down

Main Masterlist Joel Miller Masterlist

The next chapter in the Marriage Dynamics series

Pairing | Husband Joel Miller x Wife F!Reader- AU, No Outbreak

Summary | You wake up having a panic attack, and Joel calms you down. This results in the two of you talking, calming each other’s fears, and finally working through your problems. You feel movement in your pregnancy for the first time while Joel silently talks to his unborn child, asking for a gift that he doesn’t know yet but will receive.

Work Count: 5.5K

Warnings | Series is 18+, Minor DNI

Age difference (implied), language, descriptions of anxiety/panic attack, flashbacks, marriage dynamics (these two finally communicate), hurt and comfort, tenderness and love, mentions of pregnancy, you feel baby movement for the first time, mild reference to past cheating (your father and Joel's ex-wife, not from Joel or you), mild references in the past to physical abuse by your father, references to berating your father did to you in the past.

A/N: Sorry for taking so long on this next part, but here you are. As a reminder, I no longer do tag lists. Make sure to turn on notifications for when I post new written pieces.

“Baby, look at me,” Joel said sternly, turning you around to face him. He immediately searched your eyes to get you to look at him. Joel reached out instinctively and placed a steady hand on your belly, slowly rubbing it and feeling the soft swell of your stomach that was holding and caring for his child. He was trying to help ground you and reassure you that you were okay and that your baby would be alright, too.

These moments come out of nowhere: the sheer panic, the sweaty palms, the narrowing vision. You don't know why, but suddenly, it feels like the whole world is crashing down around you, like you are falling fast off of a cliff, unable to save yourself from sudden death. Your heart races, and you're stuck believing the lies in your head. The lies that you know are not true.

“I'm not good enough. I can't do this. I'll never be more than what I am now: a failure. My husband doesn't love me.”

This feeling inside seizes you, holds you tight, and doesn't allow you to take a proper breath. And that's ok, you think. You don't need to breathe, not yet. But the feeling doesn't stop, and your body eventually screams for another breath. The thing is, though, you can't get any air in, so you panic once again. The cycle never ends. It keeps repeating until you're drowning in your sweat and anxiety. You're having a goddamn panic attack, one that you haven't had in many years. To say you're embarrassed doesn't even come close to describing your emotions. The word you require fails to come to you, so you settle for fear, embarrassment, and loneliness.

You've been way too stressed your entire pregnancy. You're a week shy of being 20 weeks along with your third baby and your fourth pregnancy.

Yeah, we won't talk about that pregnancy. The daughter that you lost at 22 weeks pregnant. To this day, you still don't like thinking about it.

Even though this is a different pregnancy, things seem to haven't gone how you wanted. You finally did tell Joel that you were pregnant at your doctor's appointment when you started spotting blood. You were scared of admitting pregnancy to him, especially when you two had barely talked since Halloween. You didn't know why; you just weren't getting along. It's funny how life does that sometimes, isn't it?

Even though your 20th-week ultrasound was just a few days away, you felt embarrassed that nothing seemed to go as planned this time. You hadn't told Joel you were pregnant technically until you were having bleeding problems. You weren't sexually active with your husband. There was no celebration of being pregnant, just awkward silence, mostly of which came from you. Joel attempted to speak with you, but you'd always clam up and not talk. If you were being honest, it wasn't until late at night on Christmas Eve that Joel and you started to talk and get along again.

Now, you lay awake in bed, your mind racing, running wild with panic at all the scenarios that weren't even happening. But it felt like they were happening now, and you were scared. You were drowning in panic, unable to slow your mind down, wishing for anything to stop it.

I'm not good enough. My husband doesn’t want this and doesn't want to be with me. I'm such a horrible wife for not telling him.

Your thoughts wouldn't stop. Your mind kept racing, and you felt like you were drowning. The walls were once again closing in around you, sucking you underneath the surface. You desperately needed a lifeline to grab onto, something to save you from yourself. That's when you felt your husband reach out to you and pull you tight against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, securing you to him while gently whispering, “Baby, come on now, breathe.”

Earlier in the night, Joel had decided not to sleep with his shirt on, something he hadn’t done in a long time. After his shower, he noticed the way you were looking at him. Eyes wide, lips slightly parted, you looked at him like you desperately needed something primal from him.

“What's that look for, baby?” He said, glancing over at you and raising just his eyebrow. He was taunting you, wanting you to voice all those dirty little things that he knew you were thinking. He could tell by the look on your face, the way you were breathing, and how you were slowly squeezing your thighs together that you were turned on and sexually aroused. Joel may not be able to give you penetrative sex yet, but dammit, he could eat his wife's pussy if she wanted it. And Joel secretly hoped that you wished to do that tonight.

“I-uh, I-'' you said, stuttering and stammering at the words. You couldn't voice it or say it out loud for some reason. You were never afraid of dirty talk in the bedroom. But considering it has been almost 20 weeks, nearly five months since the two of you have done anything sexual, you were a bit nervous.

“Why don't you finish getting ready for bed, baby, then come over here, and I'll get ya all nice and relaxed for bed.”

“What did you have in mind?” You asked, hoping Joel would voice it for you.

“Oh, darlin’, you know what I have in mind,” he said, slowly sticking his tongue out and moving it up and down like he does when he licks at you fast when he goes down on you.

You quickly nodded your head and then ran into the bathroom. You needed a shower and desperately needed a shave. You spent the next 20 minutes making yourself feel more sexy and presentable. But when you entered the bedroom, you noticed all your work was in vain. Joel was lying down and loudly snoring already. Immediately, your heart sank at seeing him fast asleep.

Joel intended to give you, his wife, some much-needed affection and attention. But he underestimated how tired he was. When his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light and asleep within seconds. You, however, had laid there with your eyes open, overthinking stuff once again.

You loved being pregnant, but you hated the first part of pregnancy, where the anxiety was horrible. Your doctor said because your hormones change so much in the first stages of pregnancy, anxiety is common among women. And boy, did you ever have anxiety, especially this time around with being pregnant in your late 30s.

Even though your hormones were already leveling out, you were still nervous about knowing if your baby was growing healthy inside of you. You knew that after your 20-week ultrasound appointment, you would calm down. But you just had to get there first. You were nervous about losing this pregnancy. You remember the pregnancy you had lost; that 20th-week ultrasound showed significant problems. If everything would show that you were ok, just like the two other pregnancies did with your boys, you knew you'd calm down. You kept telling yourself that everything would be ok. But that crippling anxiety kept sneaking up at you at the worst times and holding you tight, like tonight.

The longer the night continued, the more you wanted to reach out and have your husband hold you tight to help calm your fears. But he looked so peaceful lying there sleeping; you didn't want to wake him. You both were getting along again, and there was no more fighting between you. So you didn't know where this anxiousness was coming from tonight. Your body felt off, and you didn't know why. You had tried to fall asleep, struggling with your mind to get any rest. At one point, you had dozed off a little bit, but you quickly woke up in a panic, sweating profusely. You were smack dab in the middle of yet another bad panic attack. You haven't had one of these episodes of panic for many years. Usually, stress or something larger would trigger them, but nothing unusual has happened recently. So you lay there silently, trying to will all of these bad feelings that you were having away. But no matter what you did, you could still feel your heart race and your chest constrict. It felt like you couldn't fully take a deep breath. You were drowning fast in terror and panic, not knowing if you could get yourself out of it anymore. You didn't realize in your panicked state that your husband woke up. But then, all of a sudden, when your chest constricted the tightest, and you thought you were going to die from lack of oxygen, you felt Joel’s strong arms wrap around you. He gently pulled you to him, where your back met his chest. He let out a long exhale while slowly whispering, “Baby, come on, breathe.

After Joel had laid down, he had fallen asleep suddenly, too suddenly for his liking. He wanted to cuddle you and give you much-needed attention and affection. Joel could see that you were stressed with work and raising the boys, and Joel's chaotic work schedule didn't help you. He recently hired a manager to work out in the field with Tommy so he could stay back in the office more and focus on the business side of things. His contracting business was expanding, growing at a rapid rate where Joel didn’t need to be out in the field all the time working. He could take that much-needed break and focus his time and skills on the best ways of growing his company.

Joel suddenly was jolted awake by something, but he was unsure of what. When he opened his eyes, Joel saw your back as you were facing away from him. Joel thought maybe it was a bad dream that had woken him up. Slowly, he ran his hand down his face, slightly shaking it and yawning to clear his head. Upon looking over at you again, Joel saw that you were curled up into a ball, looking like you were resting peacefully. He smiled silently, admiring you and what looked like your peaceful slumber. But then he heard it, the small sob that left your chest as you struggled to breathe in air. Joel frowned, knowing all too well that you were panicking and having a bad panic attack yet again.

Baby, I thought we stopped these, he thought, not enjoying seeing his wife struggle. He knew you were drowning in your head, unable to get your head above water as gulp after gulp of quick spurts of air were leaving your lungs. You were like a lost ship out to sea, desperately looking for a way back into port. Joel knew he was your only lifeline, and it broke his heart that he needed to be this again. He loved you and always supported you, but seeing you panic like this broke his heart. Something was bothering you, and he hoped, like hell, that someone wasn’t him.

“Baby, come on, breathe.” He said, slowly reaching out to you and pulling you into his chest.

But you couldn't; your heart was hammering in your chest, and it wouldn't slow down. “I can't breathe,” you said, hyperventilating and sobbing. You didn't know what was wrong or why, but it felt like you couldn't breathe. “Something’s wrong, Joel, I can’t- I can’t breathe.” You said, rushing air in and out of your lungs fast.

As soon as your eyes met his, you started sobbing and saying, “I can't do this. I'm a failure. I'm always fucking up. No one cares about m-me or loves me.”

“No, babe. Come on now, look at me,” Joel said, cupping your cheeks and forcing you to open your eyes to look at him. “Come on, with me, yeah? Breathe.” Joel then took a slow, deep breath, and you mirrored his actions.

“That’s it, sugar, nice and slow,” he said, breathing with you. He was trying to slow your breathing down. After readjusting himself, Joel sat beside you, gently taking your hand and placing it on his chest, holding it tight against him.

“Feel how I breathe, darlin', now match it. Come on now, slow breath in.”

*Joel took a slow breath in.*

“Now, slowly breathe out.”

*Joel slowly breathed out.*

“And again,” he said, getting you to focus on slowing your breathing down. One of his hands held yours against his chest so that you could feel the pattern of his breaths. The other hand was protectively lying over your bump, gently stroking the skin, centering both you and him that everything was alright with your baby.

After several moments of slowing your breathing and getting you to breathe normally again, you finally sighed and said, “Thanks, Joel.”

Still sitting above you, Joel furrowed his brow as he looked at you. He didn’t know why you were having a panic attack tonight. It stressed him out and worried him, especially since you were pregnant. He didn’t want you to get too stressed out and put the baby you were carrying under any more stress. After a long moment of observing you, Joel finally sighed and asked, “Why d’ya think you’re a failure?” As he waited for your response, he slowly started stroking your belly once again.

“I don’t know, I- I was upset and spouted my mouth off. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Don’t give me that shit of ‘didn’t mean anything by it.’ Christ woman.” Joel said, pinching the bridge of his nose with his hand while removing his other hand from your belly.

You frowned slightly at his movements, knowing that now he was agitated. You didn't want to have any more arguments with him. You two have been finally getting along for a while, and you weren't in the mood to go back to the way things were, where you hardly spoke, and if you did, it would result in an argument. To you, those days were behind you.

When Joel felt you stiffen below him, he froze. He was frustrated at the situation tonight. Something was bothering you to the point where it made you panic, and he wanted to know why. Why did you think that you were a failure? He felt his heart ache when you continued to look up at the ceiling, not wanting to look at him for fear that it'd start another argument.

Since when did Joel Miller become such an asshole that his wife didn't want to look at him? Since when did he become your father?

Joel took a deep breath and sighed, realizing how harsh his attitude had been these past few months. Yeah, you two haven't had sex since Halloween, almost five months ago. He reasoned with himself that the lack of sexual intercourse was because of the doctor's orders. But you two haven't done anything else either. Joel didn't blame you; he blamed himself for the change. Tommy even commented the other day to Joel that his brother had changed, but not in a good way. Yeah, Joel Miller was an asshole. But what bothered him the most was he's been an asshole to you, and you've never deserved it.

Sighing at this realization, he turned towards you and gently touched your chin. “Hey, look at me, will ya,” he said, cupping your cheek with his hand. When you finally decided to look at him, he smiled tenderly and whispered, “I love you. You know that, right, baby?”

He felt his eyes sting when you didn't answer and just stared at him. Joel Miller has been drastically fucking things up.

“I'm so fucking sorry, darlin’,” he said while gently placing his hand back again on your bump. “I’m sorry for makin’ this. For fucking everything up where I wasn’t there for you emotionally like I should have been.”

You just glared at him, struggling to keep your tears from falling. “Y-you didn't, shit,” you said, brushing a single tear away from your cheeks. I’m not doing this right now. I’m not going to break down again, you thought.

Joel could see you were struggling not to get emotional, and he was trying so hard to find ways to fix what he had already broken. “Baby, I was so mad at what ya told me on Halloween. That I wasn't rockin’ your sexual world anymore. I got, fuck baby, I got mad and jealous.”

“Seriously? What could you have been jealous about?” You said, snapping at him with more force than you intended. You were confused and slightly irritated at your husband. Joel was the one who shut you out after Halloween, not you. He barely spoke to you, held you; hell, he still hasn't even fucked you since that night. Sure, you pulled away, too, and you didn't tell him you were pregnant. But every time you tried to open up, he'd shut you down, yell at you, or treat you like you weren't his wife. You sat in silence, not knowing how to respond to your husband. Joel wasn't moving or answering you either, and for a minute, you thought that maybe he'd fallen asleep. But then you heard it, a sniffle, followed by a choked-off sob.

“Joel-” you said softer, looking over at him as you noticed tears streaming down his face. He placed a hand over his eyes, sobbing into it. You didn't understand what was happening or why he was giving you this emotional response.

“I'm s-sorry. I'm so fucking sorry that you d-don't want to be w-with me anymore.” Joel said, continuing to sob into his hand.

Where the hell was this all coming from? You thought. “Baby, what are you talking about? Of course I-”

“Don’t,” Joel said sternly, quickly brushing his tears away. Joel hated crying by himself, and he hated crying in front of you. After taking a moment to collect himself, he leaned down and whispered to your belly, “I'm so sorry that Daddy has fucked this up. I-I love both you and your mama so fucking much, ok?” He gently kissed your belly and wiped the remaining tears from his eyes away. When he sat up, he looked around the room, admiring the home you two had built together, with the front of him facing away from you.

Joel wouldn't look at you, even when you asked him. You were scared, scared of what was coming next. You knew this scene, knew it well from your father. It would be the moment that Joel would tell you he’s been sleeping with someone else. He’d tell you that you were too much for him and that he couldn’t help it, that it was an accident. You also waited for the words ‘you ruined my life’ to come to his lips, just like your father told you before. But the longer you waited, the longer it was apparent that those words would never come. That’s when you felt your heart begin to race again.

“I can practically hear those gears turning in your head, love. Stop overthinking things. I just wanted to say that you deserve better; you both do. And I know I'm not your favorite human right now and that you’re ashamed to carry my child-”

“Joel Miller, what are you even talking about? I'm not ashamed of-”

Joel stopped you by raising a hand, silencing you, saying, “Please, just let me finish.” He then continued when he knew you wouldn't interrupt him again. “I've, I'm- shit- I'm not good with this stuff, with words. I just- fuck.”

Joel didn't know what he was trying to say. He felt sorry for Halloween and for the miscommunication you two had. He’s been moody since then and not present in his marriage. He was also very sorry for not making you feel comfortable enough to tell him things again, like when you were first pregnant. But most of all, he was sorry for disappointing you as a man and husband.

When Joel realized the last admission in his mind, he felt tears well up again. You had opened your mouth to speak again, but Joel interrupted you by saying, “Ya know, I think my ex-wife was right all those years ago.”

“How so?” you said, tensing at the mention of her.

“She said I always fucked things up, and that's why she was- uh- why it didn't work out between us.” Joel almost said it. The thing he hadn’t told you. That his first wife was unfaithful because he wasn't present in their marriage and didn't give her enough support after Sarah was born.

“Joel,” you said while slowly grabbing his hand. “Baby, I'm not her, and for the record, you ain't fucking things up.”

Joel snorted at your comment, saying, “Darlin', we both know that ain't true. You're pregnant with my child. And you didn't even want to tell me because of it, because of me.”

“Joel, I didn't tell you because I was scared. I'm a woman in my middle thirties who told her husband life was stale in the bedroom. On that same night, he also knocked me up. I wanted to tell you immediately, but as soon as I attempted, you weren't there. You were working 16-hour days and moody because of no help at work. Yeah, I fucked up. I should have said something, but I was scared. I was scared I was trapping you in a marriage you didn't want.”

“What do you mean a marriage I didn't want? Baby, I love you and want you, always. I've never felt trapped, not ever. Why are you thinkin’ that?” Joel said, screwing his face up and not understanding why you thought he didn't want to be married.

“I don't know, just something my dad said when-”

“I ain't your old man,” Joel said, grinding his teeth and flaring his nostrils. At one time, your father, Pat, was Joel's best friend. But that abruptly ended when Pat laid his hands on his daughter and unforgivably hurt her.

“I know it's just- I was worried you didn't want this, want me. I know I'm a lot, a handful, that-” Your voice started to tremble, and your lip was quivering. You couldn't say it out loud. But Joel knew it was the last thing you heard your father say before you walked out of his life, forever.

Flashback

“Joel, I know my daughter, ok? She's a handful, a complete pain in the ass, and a liability. One that I wish like hell wasn't my damn responsibility anymore. So do yourself a favor; don't get involved. She'll just ruin your life. She’s already ruined mine.”

You had stood there and heard your father tell Joel, your new fiance, he didn't want you as a daughter anymore. That you being around was a burden to him and his life. You were standing in the kitchen as Pat, your father, talked to Joel in the living room. You weren't supposed to hear the conversation, and you knew that. But with what you heard, it had shattered you. You walked out of your father's house with tears in your eyes, never returning. It was good that you walked out before you heard your father's last comment. The one comment that yet today made Joel grind his teeth and see red anytime he thought about it.

“Joel, that girl of mine is nothin’ but a goddamn whore. A bitch, just like her mother. She'll just hurt you in the end. My advice, make sure you have a little something on the side, a nice piece of ass as I did, just as a pick me up. Trust me, you'll get sick of looking at her pathetic ass day in and day out. I did with her mother, and it felt great to go and get some much-needed attention from the girls I had on the side…”

After your father called you a whore and told Joel what took place when Joel had you hang out at his house, he felt sick and saw red with anger. Your dad's weekend trips and late-night house calls were due to him fucking around on your mom, a woman who was battling cancer and eventually lost. But the worst thing that Joel found out was that all those black eyes you were supporting in high school and college weren't because you got into a fight or that a boyfriend hit you. No, Pat was getting drunk and using his fists against his daughter's face. Joel also had a sneaky suspicion that the two cracked ribs you had in college also came from Pat. Joel couldn't believe that his best friend did that, and worse, you never said anything. Joel would have stopped it immediately if he had known. Pat was no longer in either of your lives anymore.

Present Day

“Baby, you ain't too much, so stop thinking that. C’mere.” Joel said, having you come and sit on his lap while he placed his back against the headboard.

He helped you straddle him, putting your hard baby belly against his softer belly. Your bump prevented you from getting as close as usual, but it was close enough that Joel could still wrap his arms around you and rest his forehead against yours.

“Now, darlin’, I want you to take a deep breath for me, ok?” After you took a deep breath and slowly let it out, you felt your heartbeat return to normal, along with his.

“I’m so sorry, Joel, that I didn’t tell you-”

“Don’t. Please darlin’. I-I don’t care what we’ve done before. I care about the right here and now. Please.”

You could feel how stressed Joel was. How his muscles tensed with you, referencing you were sorry again for not telling your husband at the beginning of your pregnancy that you were pregnant. If you could do it again, but differently, you would. But that’s not life. Life is about living in the moment, feeling emotions, and allowing yourself to experience it in its messy glory. It’s about making mistakes and then learning from those mistakes. But most of all, it’s about forgiveness, hope, compassion, love, and understanding. You both understood that the choices made these past few months were out of anger, frustration, and loneliness.

With your eyes closed and your understanding of the situations that have surrounded the two of you for a while, you quietly said, “I love you, old man.”

Joel let out a small snort at your teasing. ‘Old man’ was a nickname you gave him long ago when the two of you started dating, and now it was a term of endearment.

“I love you too, baby girl,” he said, slowly nuzzling his nose against yours.

When you pulled back and opened your eyes, you saw your husband looking at you lovingly. His eyes were so soft, tenderness seen behind them. He was your lifeline that tethered you to this world, keeping you anchored and not drifting. When he slowly kissed you, you felt him tell you in the kiss that you were loved and that everything would be alright. He was your rock, your protector, your soulmate. But more importantly, he was your Joel. The man who saw you for what you were inside. He saw past your faults and insecurities, of you believing you were too much. He gave you a safe place to land and be in the moment. You had a lifetime with him, helped him raise Sarah, and gave birth to two strong-willed little boys you loved dearly. And now you were pregnant again, with a baby that was half him and half you growing inside of you. This little one was very much a surprise, but the best possible surprise. It forced you both to stop your chaotic lives and slow down to remember what life was all about Love.

After several tender kisses, you started to giggle against his mouth. Joel pulled back at your giggling, confused at your antics. “Darlin’, are you laughing at me?”

You continued giggling and said, “No, Joel, I’m not,” but then you giggled again.

“Baby, please-”

“Joel, I just felt the baby move.”

Joel’s eyebrows shot up, surprised, looking at you with excitement. “R-really? Just now?”

“Yes, just now, when I was thinking how much I loved you and how much this child is teaching us that we need to communicate still, to be strong, and-”

Joel slowly moved his hands down to your stomach and rubbed it tenderly. He knew he wouldn’t feel movement for another few weeks. But seeing you feel life for the first time was the best possible gift one could experience with you. The joy on your face at the realization that a baby was growing inside you, one that he helped create.

“There it is again,” you said, smiling and giggling. You placed your hand right over Joel’s hand, right where you felt movement. It felt like a cricket, or something ran across your stomach, but from the inside. It was always the oddest feeling that you’d feel. It wasn’t a full kick yet; those would come in a few weeks. But in this movement, it always made you laugh when you’d feel it for the first time.

When you looked up at Joel, you were beaming with the biggest smile, while he had the most tender look in his eyes. Softly, he rubbed his thumb back and forth over your skin, giving you and his baby affection. “She's telling her mama that she loves her.”

“Joel, it’s too early. We don’t-” you said, choking up with emotion. Joel knew you wanted a girl so badly, especially after the two of you lost the only pregnancy before where you were pregnant with a girl. It was a sore subject for the two of you.

Before, when you were pregnant with a girl, Joel had come home early from work because you said you weren’t feeling well. He noticed you were sleeping on the couch when he entered the house. Joel quietly went upstairs and showered, but you yelled for him while he was washing his body. Joel quickly rinsed himself off and ran out to the living room, wearing nothing but a towel with water still dripping down his back. When he got to you, you were sitting up and crying. When he had asked you what was wrong, you pulled back the blanket, and Joel saw a large pool of bright red blood on the couch. You were rushed to the hospital by ambulance, but it was already too late. The girl you were pregnant with had no heartbeat detected. You stayed in the hospital for observation, delivering the tiny baby that night.

After you were asleep in the hospital, Joel had gone home. He took the sledgehammer to the couch, tears streaming down his face while hitting it. Tommy found him beating the hell out of the sofa, crying and screaming at how much he hated the world for taking the one thing that you wanted away from you: a little girl.

And now, all these years later, when you hear Joel reference a girl, you can’t help but get scared. Sure, you hoped for a girl and dreamed of it again, but you also didn't want to go through losing another baby once again.

“It’s just a hunch, darlin’, and don’t worry, mama; I’ll keep you both safe. Now come on, time for you both to go to bed.” Joel said, wrapping you in his arms to help silence your fears.

Joel laid you down and got you situated after he brought you some water to drink. He pulled you tight to him, your back against his bare chest as he traced small circles on your belly, helping you quickly fall asleep. After Joel knew you were sleeping soundly, he quietly whispered, “Little one, please stay in here no matter what, ok? I don’t know if you’re a girl or a boy, but I think you may be a girl this time. Regardless, your mama needs you to be healthy, and Daddy needs you to be healthy. You’ve heard bad words these past few months when your mama and I have been arguing. But please know, I’m beyond excited to be a dad yet again, your dad. I love you both so much, ok. Stay in there, and let your mama have a nice, easy pregnancy, ok? I love you.”

Joel stilled his hand on your bump, gently holding it snug while he drifted off to sleep. Neither of you knew that deep inside your belly, a tiny baby girl was growing nice and strong. Even though this pregnancy was difficult at times, that baby had no plans of leaving anytime soon. She would be the miracle and the one thing that helped you focus on fixing your marriage once and for all.

They say that life throws the most challenging curveballs when you least expect them and that sometimes those challenging events shape you into a better human being. That’s always been the story for you and Joel, and now, you both are about to enter the exciting part of your pregnancy—the one that will reshape your current Marriage Dynamics.

End of Chapter

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crownedtargaryen · 1 year

Text

tear you apart. modern werewolf!cregan

pairing: modern werewolf!cregan x reader (a/n): i’ll be honest i really didn’t wanna write this cause i am in no way a cregan enjoyer (idk why i just cant get into him) so im sorry if this feels lazy CW: p in v sex, breeding kink, mentions of blood, overstimulation if you squint, kinda a lot tbh he’s a beast. prns: she/her words: 1.3k tag list: @clairacassidy @ad-astra-again @hopelesswritergall @howyouloveyourdragon @daenerysapologist @twizzy123

Being with Cregan Stark was both a treat and a nightmare. A popular hockey player with a more reserved girl seemed like an unexpected match. If his team wins a game, you sit on the couch at this party. You watch the sweaty and shaggy men loiter and flirt loosely, Cregan trying to include me. You stare at him and smile as you softly reject his request. Though, he was a bit of an idiot when it came to understanding others' feelings, completely blind to negative emotions.

He's lucky he's attractive.

You sit on the couch, idly sipping the alcoholic beverage that rests in the red cup between your fingers, staring at the boys. With his shaggy dark hair and beautifully shaped facial hair, Cregan stood out. His toned muscles gleamed in the minimal light around him. You couldn't help the swelling feeling between your legs. Every time sex was brought up, Cregan avoided urges like the plague. You were unsure why since he'd called you his "destined mate." If you both were so destined to be together, why does he avoid intimacy like a plague?

That is, until tonight.

Something in him changes as he comes down from some high, his chest heaving as his hands clench into fists. Robb is nearby and spots a behavioral change. Quickly, you watch as he rushes towards Jon, whose eyes widen in surprise. What's happening? Did he get hurt?

You get up, heading for Cregan to check on him. But, before you reach him, a strong hand pulls you back. You turn around, looking at Jon Snow's familiar face, Cregan's distant half-cousin.

"We're leaving," he says sternly, his voice smooth like silk. You shake your head looking at Cregan. You only see him as Robb drags him off, his eyes fiery and full of something you can't place. When he looks at you, he's practically clawing Robb to get to you, a power trip between the two.

"I came here with Cregan! I can't just leave him," you snap, Jon's brows furrowing as he grabs you tighter and forcefully drags you off to his car.

"I'll get your things, just stay here and behave," he says, pushing me into the back seat and getting into the front, not saying another word. Despite your abundance of questions, Jon stays silent and stern. Is Cregan okay? What's happening? Why can't I see him? This is unfair, you have to tell me! Jon doesn't budge, continuing his one-track mind as you fall quiet, not dwelling on what you've just seen.

When you walk into the Stark house, it's a scattered mess. Arya and Sansa are whispering to each other, which silences when you enter, Robb, Jon, and Ned are all rushing around from Cregan's room to the kitchen, and Catelyn is sitting with the girls in dead silence. You hear the women ushering you to join them, to stay downstairs, but you don't obey. Slowly, you walk up the stairs to Cregan's room.

A shaky hand touches the hot doorknob as you open it slowly, spotting Cregan tied to the bed with anything they can, his chest bare and heaving desperately as his eyes hold a soft yellow hue that glares into your soul. Your heart pounds, closing the door and locking it quickly, rushing to Cregan and furrowing your brows.

"What the fuck is this?! What's going on?" You say with pained confusion. Cregan whimpers under your eyes like a dog, his jaw clenching as his hips push into the air. That's when you notice. His hands hold claws, sharp like an animal’s, yellow-hued eyes staring eagerly into yours, and his raging hard-on that hurt in his pants. It all made sense; why he was tied down, why the women stayed away while the men went around.

He wasn't a human.

You take your hand, placing it on Cregan's cheek, his body blazing hot as he moans and nuzzles into your palm, taking in the scent of your wrist. His k-9 teeth seemed more prominent now as he nipped at your skin with a desperate look in his eyes. You shiver with delight, biting your lip and moving in to kiss him, a banging on the door trailing your thoughts away.

Fuck it.

You ignore the knock, untying Cregan. Within seconds he's on you, his arms cradling your torso and his clawed hands trailing up your shirt. He cups at your breasts through your bra's flimsy lace.

"Mine," he growls lowly, pressing his hard-on to your clothed cunt, grinding his hips slowly. "Breed. Please." He looks at you, only barely restraining himself from forcing this upon you.

You moan in delight, tilting your head back as you return his waist movements tenfold, nodding quickly. "Yes, your mate," you whisper, lips parting slightly as a pathetic whimper escapes your lips. "Take me, Cregan. Please." The plea barely escapes your lips as he pins you against the bed, hands ripping off your clothing like an animal. You ignore the banging on the door, shivering at the heat rushing onto your skin, Cregan tearing off your underwear and pants, tossing the torn-apart clothing to the floor as she sheds his trousers, underwear nowhere to be seen. He grabs your thighs, pulling you up roughly and his mouth immediately abusing your throbbing cunt, tongue lapping at your folds and rolling in circles on your swollen clit, a euphoric groan emerging from him as those yellow eyes glare into yours, forcing you to keep your gaze locked with his. His tongue plunges inside of you, juices squirting onto the muscle as he fists his cock eagerly, grinding into his palm. You sink into the sheets, panting desperately and rolling your hips into his mouth, your thighs trembling. His claws dig into your thighs, harsh enough to prick the skin and draw small bits of blood.

With a filthy pop, he moves off your cunt too early for your liking. But, his regard for your pleasure is now extinct. You can't speak before his cock plunges into you. It took everything out of him not to rail at you. His eyes stare into yours, pushing you into a mating press and his eyes attempting to not roll back in his skull, sweat dripping from his tan muscles and down his freckled shoulders and face, shaggy dark hair dangling in front of your face as his cross necklace dangles in your face, almost taunting you to sink into this sin. Slowly, you grind your hips to tell him to start moving, which he gladly does with an animalistic growl, keeping deep and lustful eye contact as he slams his hips to yours, filthy wet slapping noises filling the room as his lips move to your neck, nipping at the fragile skin.

"Could rip you apart," he whispers, excitement coursing through you. "Tear your pretty body to shreds if I wanted." He slams harder into your cunt, making you whimper and scream his name, clawing red swelling marks into his skin. Cregan loves it, pressing his forehead to yours and huffing loudly. Growls mixed with heavy grunts escaped him. Since this was your first time in ages, you knew you couldn't last anymore.

His hips snap into yours as you tell him you're getting closer to your blissful finale. He ignores you, pounding it just as hard, slamming into that spongy spot inside you, pounding it when you squeal his name. When you see white, you feel him bite in an oddly specific spot on your neck, hard enough to draw blood. He licks up the red metallic fluid eagerly.

"That's it... Fuckin' take my pups in that filthy cunt. Fuck..." He groans in your ear, body trembling in delight.

"Cre- Cregan, stop- I-I can't take any more." You cry, overwhelmed with pleasure. He ignores your pleas, riding out his orgasm just as rough as he started, bursting inside you.

Gradually, he slows, looking into your eyes and panting heavily, keeping his cock stuffed in your cunt. With a loving kiss, he gently wipes away your tears.

"Don't pass out yet, I'm not done with you. You're all mine tonight, Cub. All. Mine."

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holdmytesseract · 1 year

Note

hey my love ❤️ can I resquest u something?

daryl is expecting a child with the reader where he is super excited but he also spends his time outside, looking for things for his baby.. but he receives a call from rick saying that his girlfriend is in the infirmary and when he arrives he finds out that the reader lost the pregnancy and he takes care of her and pampers her a lot those days after they both take great care of each other, because he will also be super sad😭

Sorry for my bad english 🤦

Into Shards

Daryl Dixon x pregnant!Reader

Summary: When Daryl is outside the walls, looking for stuff for yours and his baby, he gets called back by Rick - only to come home to devastating news...

Warnings: Major trigger warning here! Miscarriage! pregnancy things, walkers, fluff, bit blood

Set in the beginning of season 9!

Word Count: 2,2k

a/n: Hi nonny! Thank you for the request! ☺️💚 I am honest... I don't know if I should love this one, or not. I tried to write a bit action as well, but it probably isn't the best... Hope you like it nevertheless! 🙈

Tagging: @km-ffluv @loz-3 @stitchintimefan @peaches1958 @fictive-sl0th @lou12346789 @in-this-minute @hotgirlsshareaccounts @sweetpeapod @fuseburner @azanoni @bookofsecretjourneys

Masterlist

"'M goin' back out today. That okay for ya?" Daryl asked, while buttoning up the last few buttons of his black shirt and rolling up the sleeves. You smiled at him, stretched and stood up; leaving the cosy bedsheets behind. "Of course." You said, stepping closer and watching him slip in his angel-winged vest. Both your hands found their way on his chest, softly tugging on the cold, smooth fabric of the famous leather vest. "As long as you're coming back to us..." You whispered with a smile; your eyes never leaving his beautiful blue-greyish ones.

Us... The word hit Daryl like a ton of bricks - in the best way possible, though. It caused the ends of his nerves to sizzle. An overwhelming feeling of warmth and love flooding his veins. Us... He couldn't stop himself from smiling that signature sweet, small, boyish smile. "Ain't gonna ever leave ya two alone," he stated, shaking his head. One hand settled on your left hip, while the other found your yet non-existent baby bump. Although Daryl always stated, that he was already able to feel the tiny, innocent life. Despite the fact that you were barely eight to ten weeks along - according to Siddiq. Whenever he said that, you'd just giggle and shake your head.

"'M always goin' to come back for ya. 'Specially now." Your smile even widened; one hand reaching up to brush a chestnut brown curl out of his handsome face. "I know." You stood on your tippy-toes to brush your lips against his; eyelids fluttering shut.

"I can't convince you to let me join you, can I?" Daryl scoffed playfully, shaking his head. "Absolutely not. Ain't lettin' you walk around out there." You sighed, but giggled. "Thought so... Take care out there, yes? Be safe." Your boyfriend nodded. "'Course. Promised." "Good." You kissed him again. "I'll be back 'fore the sun's goin' down."

Daryl grabbed his crossbow then, his knives and took one of the pick-up's. His bike would've been a bit too small for his task ahead. With a last look at you and a soft smile, he left Alexandria; off to find and scavenge stuff for the baby.

Around midday, Daryl was already several miles away from home, searching every square inch of a few smaller cities around D.C. Daryl knew that it probably wasn't the best idea to be close to such a big city, but that didn't scare him.

Now he was sneaking down the streets of a rather very small city he didn't know the name of. Not much houses, only a few shops. His eyes landed on an old building. Not big and plain. Unimportant, unnecessary. He was about to walk past it, when he recognised the small sign over the old, rusty door... 'Smith's Baby Store'. Wasn't that exactly what he was looking for? "Finally," he muttered to himself under his breath, drawing his knives. With his foot, he kicked against the unstable door, listening for any signs of walkers. Nothing.

Carefully, he opened the door. It didn't budge at first, but with a little more strength, it finally gave in - as if someone was inside it before him. Looking around to check the street for any stray walkers - which wasn't the case, he stepped inside the small house. Daryl noticed immediately, that this house was constructed very... strange. The door didn't lead straight into the shop. It led into a long, dark hallway - with only three other doors. One on the left, one on the right and one at the end of the hallway. Daryl sneaked on quiet feet down the squeaking hallway; the old wood creaking underneath his weight. He checked the two rooms on the sides first, but found nothing. One room was already scavenged. Not much things were left. Most of the items useless and broken. The other room was nothing more than a broom closet with dusty cleaning supplies.

Daryl let out a slightly annoyed groan, before he made his way to the last room. The sparse wooden door wasn't locked. It was slightly ajar, making it easy for the archer to open it. The door led into a big room, full of shelves and cupboards, in which several baby things were. A smile twitched at the corners of Daryl's lips. Jackpot. But just a moment later, his expression shifted into a frown. The building had been clearly scavenged already, so... Why leave this room out? Why not take these things as well?

The answer got the archer only seconds after the thought had crossed his mind. He took a few steps inside the room - and immediately felt the floor giving softly in underneath him; bending under his weight. The wood was rotten, dilapidated and more than unstable. Daryl walked backwards again, biting his lip and weighing his options. Should he risk it? Should he not? He didn't know what was beneath the floor. Perhaps the basement? He could've sworn he had seen a small stair in the other room, leading down to a door. The basement couldn't be that bad, could it? And perhaps the floor held him, so... Daryl had been way too long on his way today and the past days - weeks. He didn't want to go home once again empty handed.

So, he took the risk - and paid for it almost immediately. The old wood held his weight the first time and also the second time - but not the third. It gave in underneath him, creaking and aching, causing the archer to fall - like he had predicted into the basement. With a thud, he landed on his back, groaning. "Shit." Only a tiny window let the sunlight in and illuminated the dark, dusty and... smelly room. His ears were ringing from the fall, his senses blinded for a moment, causing him to not realise instantly, what he got himself into.

Only when the sounds of low snarls and snapping teeth urged slowly but surely to his ears, he realised. Daryl's eyes widened in shock and surprise, before he scrambled to get up from the cold ground. The window didn't let much light in... But enough to show that said basement was filled with more than just two walkers... Way more than two. Daryl grimaced - in pain and frustration. "Damn it!" The walkers noticed him, of course, immediately and went straight at him. Daryl reached for his knife to get rid of the first undead, attacking him; all the while scanning the room for the door. He had to get out of this.

Unfortunately - just in that moment, while he was fighting the undead, started his walkie talkie to give forth some static hissing, before Rick's voice echoed across the basement. "Daryl?!" The archer got rid of another walker, plunging his knife into its rotten skull, before retrieving the weapon again, and reached for the walkie talkie attached to his belt. He thought it had been the last one, but just as he was about to answer his brother, another walker lunged at Daryl from behind, with such an impact that the little, black device slipped from Daryl's hand, along with his knife. A grunt left his lips as he tried to get the undead man away from him. He turned and stumbled to the ground with the walker landing on top of him. Its foul breath hitting Daryl's face; rotten teeth snapping at him, mere inches from his neck. "Daryl?! Do you copy?!" Rick's voice called out for him again. Daryl gritted his teeth and used all his force to shove the undead away from him. Quickly he reached for his knife and killed the walker. Panting, he fell back on his back, catching his breath. "Come on, Daryl! It's urgent!" Rick sounded almost desperate by now. Daryl took a deep breath and stood up to get the walkie talkie. "Rick? Rick! I'm here." He panted, wiping some blood from his face. "Sorry, man. Had to get rid of a few walkers."

Rick answered instantly. "Thank god. Daryl, you gotta get back here! Quick!" The man frowned, making his way to the small door of the basement. "Why?" "Y/N's in the infirmary! She-" Rick's voice broke and Daryl's heart dropped. You were in the infirmary? Fear and panic immediately started to rise within the archer. "Rick?!" He literally screamed into the walkie talkie, "Rick!" but all he got in return was static hissing. "Fuck's sake!" The archer cursed and slammed the device on the ground, before he literally run up the stairs and out of the house. Something was wrong, if you were in the infirmary - and whatever it was, he had to get back to Alexandria as fast as possible.

The gates got opened immediately, as soon as Daryl approached Alexandria. The archer didn't even bother to park the pic-up on its rightful place. He jumped out of the vehicle and slammed the door shut; seeing Rick already running his way. "Daryl!" The archer met his friend midway. "Wha' happened?! What's wrong with 'er?!" "You better see for yourself...," was all Rick said - a sorrowful look on his face. Daryl didn't let himself tell that twice, of course. As fast his legs could carry him, he sprinted to the infirmary. Without even knocking he ripped the door open and stormed in - attracting Siddiq's attention. "Daryl." "Where is she?!" The archer walked up and down the room like a wounded tiger; tried to push past the doctor - but Siddiq stood firmly in his way and tried to calm him down. "Daryl, calm down. Y/N's in the last room down the hall. Let me explain first, okay?" The black-haired man lifted his hands as if in surrender. Another try to calm the worked up man across him down. Daryl's chest heaved, as he grunted and gave the doctor a short nod - which Siddiq returned. "You... You might want to sit down for this." "Nah, 'm good. Tell me wha' happened." The doctor took a deep breath. "Alright, I... Y/N came to me a few hours ago; said she had cramps. Usually nothing to be worried about, but I checked on her nevertheless." Siddiq swallowed hard, lowering his head. "When I went to check, I... I saw that... There was blood, Daryl."

The archer's eyes widened and he felt his heart drop for the second time that day. Deep down, he already knew what it meant, of course, but he didn't want to believe it. Not until Siddiq spoke the dreadful words out loud. "Y/N, she... I'm afraid she had a miscarriage. I'm sorry." Daryl just stared at his friend blankly. The news - the shock was just too overwhelming. Without saying a single word, the archer walked past the doctor and straight down the hall, towards your room.

Gently opening the door, he found you laying on a bed, curled up into a ball. Your back towards him. He could hear the soft cries and sobs, which left your lips - breaking his heart. Daryl whispered your name, trying to hold back his own tears. You stirred immediately; hearing his voice. Shifting to face him, he saw your tear-stained cheeks and red, puffy eyes. "D-Daryl..." You sobbed, causing more tears to fall. He was immediately at your side, pulling you against his body. "'M here, love, 'm here. 'S alright, 'm here..." Of course, he knew that nothing was alright, but what was he supposed to say?

Daryl felt your body shaking against his. He wanted to scream; he wanted to cry - but he couldn't allow himself that. He needed to be strong for you. For the both of you. But the harsh reality hit him nevertheless. A few hours back, everything was alright. His little world was perfect. And now? Now it all came crashing down. The happiness ripped out of both your hands - within the blink of an eye. "I-I am s-so s-sorry, I-I-I..." You stammered, hands clasping on his vest; holding onto him for dear life. Daryl immediately shook his head. "Stop that, please... You have nothin' to be sorry for. This ain't your fault, sunshine." "It h-has to b-be! I-I must've done s-something wrong, I…" "Nah, you didn't. These things just happen sometimes." You looked up at him with hooded Y/E/C eyes. "B-But why to u-us? W-We were so happy about it... Looked forward to meet this baby and now... Now they are gone..." The words caused fresh tears to run down your cheeks. "I don't know, sunshine... I don't know..."

The most important thing was, that you had each other. It was going to be a tough time, but you knew that with Daryl by your side, you would overcome the grief. Scars were going to heal with time and sooner or later, you would welcome a new life in this world, where happiness was most precious and family was the most precious gift. Yes, it wasn't going to be easy, but you knew from all the things you've been through that everything works out in the end. After all, light couldn't exist without darkness, could it?

The next days Daryl spent the whole time at home with you. He didn't leave your side. Not even for a minute. The both of you spent most of the time in your house; secluded. Everybody understood that, of course and gave you all the time you needed to process the loss. Losing a child was never easy. No matter if born or unborn.

#daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x pregnant!reader #daryl dixon #twd #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead

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normal-sea-urchin · 5 months

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Casey Jones Fucking Dies: Chapter 8

AND IT IS DONE! chapter eight that is. uh, @achilles-invulnerable-heel @veritas-dolos @clanofjones @theosb0rnway @builtlikeastickofcelery @samuel-yippee @less-depresso-more-espresso ok i think that covers all the tags. uhhhh, but anyways this chapter may have a slightly different vibe as it was written from casey's pov. anyways here ya go pookies, enjoy!

Yes. Yesss.

That stupid turtle actually fell for it. Casey couldn't believe Raph thought he would actually forgive him. Yet here he was, in the turtle's body, glaring down Raph's spirit, which was now trapped in the mirror.

"Sorry, but this body's taken." he hissed, giving the turtle's ghost a toothy grin. The look of fear in his face was all too good. "Anyways, I have places to be. Later, Raph." Casey taunted, putting emphasis on the mutant's name.

Casey took a step towards the door, only to stumble and put his hand on the counter for balance. Huh. It had uh, been a while since Casey had needed to actually walk around. not to mention that he was now a turtle. Kind of. A mutant turtle. Close enough. Either way, being in this body might take a while to completely get used to.

But casey didn't exactly have tons of time. Possession wasn't easy, and he didn't exactly have the practice. So whether or not Casey knew how to even walk in this body, he needed to. Just gotta get to my house, he thought to himself.

He took a step, and another, and placed his hand on the door knob. He turned to face Raph's ghost in the mirror one last time. He gave one last, toothless grin; he blinked his eyes to wash out the ghostly green glow, now replacing it with the turtle's striking green eyes. He blew a taunting kiss towards the horrified face in the mirror before swinging the door open and waltzing out of the bathroom.

Casey had been watching Raph and how he acted around his brothers and father since he became a ghost; meaning it wasn't very hard to imitate how he acted, at least until he got out of the lair. Casey tried to walk over to the turnstiles (which he had learned was the entrance and also the exit) but was stopped by one of the turtles.

"Yo Raph, where are you going dude?" Dammit. Casey slowly turned a bit to see which turtle was talking to him. It was the orange one, with the blue eyes. What was his name again? Marco? No no no. Uhh, Miguel? Mikey? Mikey! It was Mikey.

"Uh, just going on patrol, I'll be back later." he lied. Ugh, he sounded like Raph. He sounded like the guy who killed him. It felt weird. To be honest the entire 'being in the body of a five foot tall mutant turtle' thing was weird. Y'know what, that would explain why he sounded like him.

"Hmm, okay dude." Casey turned back around and sped-walked over to the turnstiles as inconspicuously as he could. Casey turned the corner out of the lair and as soon as he was sure he was out of earshot, he started booking it.

He didn't really have a reason why. I mean, he wanted to see his sister and his room, but he didn't really have any reason to rush. but it felt nice. It felt good to run. It felt great to do anything. Even though the smell of the New York sewers was the worst thing imaginable, Casey was glad he could smell at all.

After a while, Casey reached a sewer plate. He couldn't wait to see his room again. He rushed up the sewer ladder and shoved the sewer plate up and out of the way. Here he was. Back on the surface. Casey took a deep breath in.

The sound of car horns and people yelling and even just people's shoes clicking against the pavement brought such a comfort to Casey. It felt amazing. God, he had missed this. It took Casey a moment to remember what exactly he came up here for. Right, his room. Gotta get to his apartment.

"AAAAAH! MONSTER!" a feminine voice from behind Casey yelled. He whipped around to sees some blonde chick yelling and pointing at him. Shit. He totally forgot he was in Raph's body.

Casey quickly scaled the nearest fire escape. About halfway up, he noticed that the woman had ran away; so he continued his climb, peaking into the windows of the apartment complex as he did. As much as Casey hates the whole normal life thing, he kinda missed the mundanity of life.

Y'know, waking up in an unmade bed, cooking breakfast for himself and his sister, riding his bike to school after dropping his little sister off, going to the convenience store after school for a snack, that kinda thing. And even the occasional hockey game or practice, or maybe his little sister needed help with her homework. Casey missed it.

He reached the roof of the building and turned around, looking for a store or restaurant that he would recognize. He knew New York like the back of his hand; if he could just see how close the park or something was, he could easily get home. Aha! The old theater that Casey went to like, all the time. That meant he was about seven blocks away from his apartment.

He turned to face the direction his apartment building was in and mentally charted out a route of buildings to hop across. Shouldn't take too long. Casey walked over to the edge of the building, looking at the distance between this one and the next. He took a few steps back before sprinting towards and leaping towards the next building.

Casey landed with a tumble near the middle of the building. He did not expect to jump that great a distance, which left him a little shocked. But he shook it off with ease, of course. He really needed to get used to the whole mutant turtle thing if he was going to posses Raph more often, which he planned on doing.

Either way, he began to fade into a cycle of leaping from building to building for a few blocks until his apartment complex was in sight. Casey stopped for a moment, taking a moment to catch his breath. God he missed the burning in his lungs when he ran. He missed the wind blowing through his hair, which was still something he missed considering Raph was bald...

Anyways, he continued towards to his apartment. Upon reaching the top of it, Casey started rushing down the fire escape to his room. He could barely contain his excitement. He threw the window open and leaped into the room, feeling the carpet underneath the turtle's feet (which felt like, really big to Casey).

Casey waltzed over to his bed before letting himself fall face first into his pillow. He inhaled deeply before rolling over onto the turtle's shell. Man, he missed his room. His eyes shot over to his desk, where his face paint was.

Hmm.

Face paint. Casey had an idea. He walked over to the desk and sat in the old, torn chair in front of it. He tried his best to get comfortable, although Raph's shell made it a bit hard. After deciding that this was as comfortable as he could get in this body, he turned his attention to the desk.

...

His homework was in the exact same place he left it. He had blown off finishing it in favor for vigilante-ing...

Whatever. Casey pushed it aside. Not like Mrs. Thomson's math class mattered anymore. Casey reached for his black and white face paint, hoping to push those thoughts away. He turned the small mirror on his desk towards him, turning it downwards to fit his now much shorter height.

"This is for FUCKING killing me freak face!" Casey remarked, pointing at the turtle's face in the mirror.

"GIVE ME BACK MY FUCKING BODY!" Raph screamed back from his mirror prison; making Casey flinch back. He was not expecting a response.

"Mmm, no. You could some time for reflection. Get it?" Casey mocked. Raph face morphed into a scowl before fading away, leaving Casey alone. Now then, the face paint.

Casey tugged the red mask off the turtle's head. He reached for a brush before dipping it into the white face paint. He smudged the paint all over the turtle's ugly mug. After two coats, the turtle's green skin was no longer visible. Casey grabbed a second, smaller brush for the black paint and went to town.

It felt good. Defacing Raph. The man who killed him so ruthlessly. The man who had taken Casey from his sister, and from April, and from hockey, and from his life...

Whatever.

After a little while, Casey had finished. The black accents had taken only one layer, cause of how dark it was. And thus, it was done. The turtle had now donned totally metal skull face paint. Casey looked in the mirror, admiring his handiwork. Just one thing was missing. Casey reached into the left drawer of the desk and pulled out one of his spare bandanas. He tied it around his forehead and leaned back into the chair. Y'know the bandana really pulled the whole thing together.

While staring at his new reflection, Casey thought back to his life before. Before his death. Before, when he had his own body, and didn't have to possess a mutant turtle. He regrets ever taking it for granted. Man, this was bumming him out.

Casey's eyes began to wander around the room before landing on his hockey gear sticking out of his bag. Hmm. Casey walked over to the bag and crouched down beside it. He began to rummage through the contents, finding hockey pucks, spray paint bottles, and some other junk. Maybe he could take it with him, sneak it into the turtles's lair, so that he could throw up some graffiti or something next time he possessed Raph. He decided it best to at least take it with him, even if he didn't put it in the lair. He threw a few more things in: his face paint, some old clothes that just might fit over the turtle's body, that kinda stuff. As he was hunched over, he heard a voice erupt from behind him.

"WHAT THE HELL!?" Casey whipped around to see his little sister, Angel, staring at him with wide eyes.

Oh no. Ooooooh no. Angel couldn't see Casey. She couldn't see Casey looking like... this whole situation! He threw the bag onto his shoulder in a panic and quickly fled the scene. He ran up the fire escape, paying no attention to his sister's "HEY! GET BACK HERE!"

He made it up to the roof before repeatedly sprinting and leaping over to a rooftop about a block down. He took a moment to breathe, turning and looking back towards his room; looking back towards his sister. All this time, he had missed her, so much. But now, after having seen her, he wishes he hadn't. The way she reacted, the way she screamed... Casey felt like a monster.

And it was all Raph's fault.

_______________________

The clinking of the spray paint cans in Casey's bag echoed through the abandoned subway tunnel. He was now on his way back from his apartment to the turtle's lair. The thoughts about how his sister reacted to seeing him still haunted his mind.

Man, fuck all of this. Casey didn't care enough to hide the bag. He didn't care enough to try and wipe off the face paint he did. He didn't care enough to pay any mind to Raph's voice echoing in his mind, demanding his body back.

As he made it closer to the lair, the sound of the other turtles became clearer. A grin began to crawl onto Casey's face the closer he got. This was gonna be good.

He turned the corner to face the turtles and April with an unnerving grin on his face. The turtles all seemed to be watching some dumb cartoon show while April was on her computer. Casey dropped the bag to the ground, but still holding the strap in his hand. He stood, waiting for a response or even a reaction, still grinning.

The turtles were staring at who they thought was they're brother with looks of confusion. But April, April was glaring at Casey, her eyes wide, yet angry.

"Raph... Where did you get that bandana? And that bag?" she interrogated, dragging a finger up to point at Casey's bag. The grin on Casey's face cracked into an eerie smile.

"Oh, y'know. Stole it from this guy I killed." he enthusiastically replied. The room fell silent. Dead silent.

"...What?" April muttered slowly.

"Yeah!" Casey remarked, "I think you knew him, his name was Casey. Casey Jones."

And with that, Raph fell to the floor. Unconscious, but now in control of his body.

#tmnt #2012 tmnt #casey jones #2012 casey jones #casey jones fucking dies #fanfic #2012 raph #raphael #tmnt raph

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tavyliasin · 4 months

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BG3 FicFeb NSFW - Day 3

I'll be honest with you darlings I had every intention of making this one spicy but then feelings happened? Still, it was fun to write, and an interesting scenario I might re-use at a later date. Shortfic below the cut (still NSFW) with some CW/Tags for angst, hurt/comfort, scars, wounds, mention of character trauma, but I promise it is mostly on the fluffy comforting side~

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Day 3 - Body Worship

It had been far too long since Tav had found an opportunity to bathe properly. Not just scrubbing off with a damp cloth, or dunking into a freezing lake, a proper warm bath. Of course, taking advantage of having access to a brothel’s finer rooms whilst investigating a disappearance was something she took very seriously. She had to be completely certain she wouldn’t miss a vital clue amongst the perfumed soaps and soft towels. Who knew when the last piece of information they needed might be at the bottom of a wine bottle, or lurking in the bowl of fresh fruit…

“Well, that is certainly better than a murky pond.” Astarion echoed her thoughts as he sank into the water beside her. “Gods that feels good.”

“We should take up the role of investigators more often.” Tav chuckled, reaching for the silver bowl that held a fresh sponge and some soaps. “Here, let me, for once.”

“You don’t need to-”

“I want to.” She left little room for further complaint, taking his hand in her own and delicately sponging away the dirt that seemed to cling to his nails.

“I am not about to break, you know.” He watched her with an eyebrow raised as she continued to be far more gentle than he felt he deserved.

“I know.” If anything, Tav slowed slightly, taking a moment to caress his fingers reverently. “But the world has been rough enough with you lately. Is there anything wrong with a little tenderness instead?”

“Yes- No. Maybe.” He wasn’t even sure what he was trying to say as she brought his hand to her lips and kissed each fingertip in turn. “You…Well…” He sighed, giving in to her care instead for now.

“Relax, Astarion, please.” She trailed a line of kisses up his forearm to his elbow, her fingers gently brushing the faint lines of decades old scars and far fresher bruises marking his pale form. “You know, you really are beautiful.”

“I know.” He replied, out of reflex. “Sorry, old habits… I suppose truly I have no idea if I am or not, other than the parts of myself I can see clearly. Even the water doesn’t hold my reflection any more.”

“Then let me be your mirror.” She smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair that threatened to fall forwards into his eye. “Now, where was I?”

Tav began to wash his other hand and arm, with the same reverence she had used before, but this time giving voice to the thoughts that floated through her mind as she did.

“Here, your fingers. I could comment on how skilled they are, how you can make me feel, but what I admire most is how they always find a solution. You’ve picked locks, disarmed traps-”

“You can do that just as well as I, my love.” He protested, though just as quickly his arguments met their rebuttal.

“Maybe, but you were the one who unlocked my heart.” Tav laughed at the absurdity of her own statement. “It’s cheesier than an entire dairy, I know, but it’s true. I spent my whole life just going from one fling to the next, living each day like it might be my last. Living like that…well you just don’t think of a future. Or who you might spend it with. It was better to just enjoy what I could when I could. Besides, attachments could be exploited.”

“And you see a future now? With tadpoles in our brains, and the threat of an actual mindflayer Elder Brain looming quite literally over our heads?” Despite his words, his expression was soft in the low light of the room.

“I see one worth fighting for.” She leaned forwards and stole a kiss, but only for a moment, pulling back to leave him wanting more.

“Such a tease, my love.”

“I learned from the best~” She put on the hint of a flirtatious tone to match his voice. “Anyway… Here. This part next.”

“A scar, darling? Really?” He almost pulled his arm back, like her touch burned the mark deeper into his skin.

“This was not long after we met. I remember worrying that you might lose too much blood if the wound were just a fraction to the left.” Tav dipped the sponge in the warm bathwater again and carefully cleaned the area, rinsing off the soap when she was done. “But that’s not what I think most when I look at it, or any of the other marks that battle has left upon you.”

“Enlighten me, what is it that you see in such a blemish?” Astarion frowned, struggling to see what she meant.

“Endurance. A fight that didn’t end you. A strength that goes beyond what you can lift in your arms.” She sat back a moment, the myriad of scars across her own body clearer to see as she gestured to them. “Something we share, our will to live, and to be more than the world tried to make of us.”

“Well…I suppose…” He sighed, looking closer at Tav’s form now. Subtle muscles and soft curves, the map of old wounds telling as many stories as his own, and not one of them diminished her beauty in his eyes. “There is some charm to them, maybe.”

She continued to cleanse the sweat and marks of the long days from his body with tender care, her praise like a balm to the bruises on his soul. She almost paused when it was time to move around to his back. “Is it alright if I…?”

“There is nobody I trust more to resist the urge to put a dagger between my ribs.” He mimicked the motion playfully with empty hands as he spoke. “Oh no need to be so serious, my darling, the point is that I trust you. Completely.”

The vampire shifted, turning his back to her. The view was always a painful one - he was free, but the marks remained, the knowledge of the pain in their making broke her heart if she let those thoughts back in. “Even this,” she began carefully, “has never once diminished your worth.”

Tension rose in his shoulders, even as she tried to massage it away. “A poem of subjugation is all that is, a beautiful lie that promised power.”

“And yet you are more powerful than ever, you didn’t let the lie consume you. How about this instead.” She put the sponge aside, and began carefully tracing her own pattern across his back as if overwriting the scars his past had left. “I’ll write my own verse for you, let it erase the old one.”

“What is it exactly that you’re writing?” A hint of worry tinted the curiosity in his voice as it dropped a little quieter than it had been before.

She leaned forward and whispered close in his ear. “My wedding vows.”

#bg3ficfeb #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 #fanfic #a tav's guide #hurt/comfort #body worship #angst #scars #a vow beneath the scars #overwriting the past with something beautiful

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rascal-xo · 11 months

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The Angel of Death Part 2 - Simon 'Ghost Riley' × Fighter Fem Reader

Summary: You and Simon finally talk which leads to a realization...

Warnings: Violence, language, Action!Fic, bodily injuries, Overlapping of timelines and characters, FLUFF, ANGST

Tags: @pukbadger @fiveshelmet @myguiltypleasures21 @madamemelaninn @emmaadlerrichtofen1 @swissy23 @thatchickwiththecamera @glitterypirateduck @glitteryeggalmondherring @allaboutirem0

A/N: Question for the culture… part 3???

You stand leaning against one of the large cement pillars in the arena behind Laswell as she briefs the undercover agents on their task at hand. Under the dim light, sit 4 combat agents, courtesy of the CIA special forces. As Laswell speaks, you can hear the unwavering confidence in her voice, the way she lays out the plan with precision and clarity.

You scoff in your mind, thinking about how you swore you would never go back to the military, and yet here you were, letting the military come back to you. Funny how life worked that way. The Pit, once a symbol of your freedom and a way to leave the past behind, now becomes the stage for this dangerous dance with Al Qatala.

As Laswell continues, your mind drifts back to the memories of the past few days. The reunion with Simon had been bittersweet. The emotions were raw and overwhelming, yet it felt like coming home after a long journey. He understood you in a way that no one else could, and his presence brought a sense of comfort and support that you desperately needed.

But the weight of the mission still hangs heavy on your shoulders. The prospect of facing Al Asad again, of confronting the organization that once held you captive, brings a mix of fear and determination. It's not just about taking down the arms dealer; it's about reclaiming a piece of yourself that was lost in those dark days.

"Y/N?" Laswell's voice breaks through your thoughts, and you refocus your attention on her. "We need you to take the lead on the secondary extraction route. We can't afford any slip-ups."

You nod, snapping back into the present. "Got it, Laswell. I'll make sure everything is in place."

She gives you a reassuring nod before turning back to the agents. "Remember, this is a high-stakes operation. We need to be precise and quick. Any deviation from the plan could put all of us at risk."

As the hours pass, The Pit fills with spectators, the air buzzing with anticipation and excitement. The fights that take place here are raw and intense, but they remain off the books, hidden from the public eye.

This clandestine nature adds an edge of danger to the atmosphere, reminding you of the high-stakes mission that awaits.

In the backroom, you put on your gear, your mind focused on the task at hand. Just as you're adjusting the straps of your tactical vest, you hear the door creak open, and there stands Simon, his presence like a beacon in the darkness.

He looks at you, his expression a mix of concern and understanding. "I know that look." he says, his eyes locking with yours knowing your mind. His face is bare for the sake of the mission, which still shocks you a bit knowing the lengths Simon is willing to go for this operation.

You take a deep breath, the weight of the past weighing heavily on your shoulders. "Its the only look I got." you reply, your voice humorous but honest. After a few beats of silence you finally let out a breath you don't realize you're holding. "I'm sorry." You admit, meeting his gaze.

Simon's expression softens as he listens to your voice. He reaches out and gently cups your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. "We can't change the past, Y/N" he says, his voice tender.

You feel a lump forming in your throat, the weight of the past few years crashing down on you. "I should've said something before leaving." you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't know how to deal with everything."

Simon pulls you into a comforting embrace, holding you close. "I should have fought harder for you," he murmurs, his words tinged with regret. "I let you go knowing it was what you needed, but I was angry for not being there for you when you needed me the most.”

You bury your face in his shoulder, feeling a mix of relief and sorrow washing over you. For so long, you had carried the burden of leaving him behind, thinking it was the right thing to do.

But now, as he holds you in his arms, you realize that you weren't the only one affected by the aftermath. Simon places a gentle kiss on your forehead, his touch sending warmth through your entire being. "I'll see you out there, Y/N." He says, before walking out.

As you walk towards the door, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, and for a moment, you don't recognize the person staring back at you. The face in the reflection is strong, resolute, with eyes that hold a flicker of determination you haven't seen in a long time.

The dim light in the backroom casts a soft glow on your features, accentuating the lines of resilience etched into your expression. Your eyes, once clouded with uncertainty, now burn with a fiery resolve.

In this moment, you see the reflection of the person you were, the person you are, and the person you are becoming.

As you continue to study your reflection, a switch is turned inside of you. The weight of your past no longer bears down on your shoulders, but instead, it becomes the fuel that ignites the fire within. The determination in your eyes deepens, and you know that you are no longer running from your demons; you are facing them head-on.

"Y/N, all ready on your end?" Laswell's voice crackles over the comms.

"I'm ready."

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #fanfic #call of duty smut #simon ghost riley #simon riley imagine #ghost x female reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #ghost cod #cod x reader #mw2 #Spotify

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nerdragenewvegas · 1 month

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Fallout fics I've gone and done

Outing myself as Cantique the Ao3 gremlin here I guess. These all contain smut.

A Well Timed Scandal - Cooper Howard/Female Reader. Pre war (will go into the post-war timeline.) No current content warnings but I'll be tagging as I go. Will be multi chapter. Johnny places his cigarette in the carved out groove of the ash tray, leaning in and resting his elbows on the desk, like he’s leveling with you. “You wanna know why we cast Gilda in Empire on the Nile?” He asks. “Because there was one too many rumors about Keith McKinney being a fan of ‘Greek stuff’ for us to contend with. Now, originally, we just wanted them seeing each other,” he admits, “but I’m not gonna complain with the results.”

“So you want me to marry Cooper Howard?”

He shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “Marry? No, no, lets play that by ear,” he seemingly assures you. “What we want — need — you two to do is make it look like you’ve been having an affair.” You must look like you’ve seen a ghost. This is insane. “Explains his divorce, gets people talking about you two as a pair, gets eyes on this movie you’re filming together — now, don’t go outright saying it, of course. We just wanna’ make people read between the lines, get them curious enough to get them into the theater to see the chemistry on the screen.”

--- Kinda Like a Cowboy - The Ghoul/Lucy, contains spoilers, porn with plot. Please read the tags for CNs but there are definitely CNs. Unhinged stuff involving guns. Currently two chapters but I'm cooking a third.

"I’d be real careful with that line o’ thinkin’,” he warns, raising an arm and bringing it to brace against the wall beside her head, all but pinning her to it. They may not be physically touching, but they’re so close to it and he’s looking at her like she’s a meal (which should be concerning because she knows he literally eats people) and she really, really wishes they were touching right now. “Because I can be nice. Real nice.” His free hand reaches up to her face, and she’s so focused on watching his expression and how close his face is to hers that she doesn’t even realize until his thumb brushes over the barely-healing split in her lip. “…But I don’t think nice is what ya’ want, is it?” More under the cut, they're New Vegas fics fyi~

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Doctrine & Covenants - Joshua Graham/Female Courier with some Vulpes/Female Courier and Boone/Female Courier. Extremely longform (48 chapters, 286,349 words and still going) fic that I've been working on since 2022. It's imperative you read the tags and heed the content warnings as it does contain some noncon. First chapter is a little rough and I'll rework it one day but the rest is fine. Tells the story of Courier Six confronting her own trauma when she visits Zion in Honest Hearts thanks to Joshua not so much teaching her about God (although he tries) but teaching her about forgiveness and love despite sin. Lowkey a bit of a personal one for me as I'm an ex-mormon myself and it's been a nice avenue for me to kinda work through my own feelings while deconstructing.

“I will not judge you – I understand better than anyone else what it’s like to be willing to do anything to escape your own history,” he explains, “but you are a good neighbor to us. The tribe cares for you, Follows-Chalk and Waking Cloud care for you, and I care for you.” He holds her gaze as he says this, speaking firmly, as though there’s no room to budge on his statement. “And as someone who cares for you, I want to let you know that this is something we can help with if you wish.”

Six doesn’t say anything, her jaw tense as she casts her eyes downwards, and Joshua worries that he’s lost her.

“And as for whatever has happened before you came to us,” he says, “I want you to know that it is forgiven in Zion.”

Six shifts uncomfortably, her eyes glancing up at him, but only momentarily. “I’m not religious, Joshua,” she says. “That’s sweet, but I’m sorry.”

“I know,” he says plainly. “I’m not speaking for God, though. I am speaking for myself.”

“But you don’t even know what I’ve done.”

“I don’t need to. All I need is to know who you are now.” ---

Raze It, Raze It - Joshua Graham/Female Courier. Oneshot, there's smut in here. Honest Hearts bad ending but the Courier is an enabler and basically encourages Joshua to keep going until he's started a holy war. Make sure to read the tags for CNs.

“Bring me Vulpes Inculta alive and I will give you a child.”

He gazes up at her when she says this, in awe of her naked form as she takes him so well, his fingers digging into her supple thighs, the light that pours in through the seams of their tent illuminating her from behind. She is divine. Remarkable. A miracle. And she offers him a child, an opportunity to have the eternal family he had been sure he had lost all right to. At first, he had thought they would go without. He has two decades on her at even his most conservative of guesses, and she is so young and healthy compared to him that if not sent to him directly by God, he’d be sure this was perverse.

But despite his age and despite his burns and past and all that he is, here she is; the most feminine of all forms, joined with him at the flesh, offering to grow and bare his child. All of her, this perfect creature, here, for him and only him.

“Anything,” he finally says. He reaches a hand up to cup her face and she nestles into it, her cheek so soft against his own burnt and scarred palm as she rides him. Oh, she’s so beautiful. He watches her on the battlefield, striking down Legionary after Legionary, a true Holy Host. If Joshua is the sword, she is the arrow.

#fallout fic #the ghoul #fallout tv series #new vegas #fallout #fallout series #ghoulcy #lucy x cooper #cooper x lucy #lucy x the ghoul #cantiquefics

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poohsources · 11 months

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I'm new to tumblr and i'm not sure how rp bandwagons work on here haha.

I know i have to reblog them, but i'm not sure what happens next or where to put the starter 'n such. so sorry if this doesn't make sense LOL.

hi there! gotta be honest here, i have no clue what bandwagons are ( i tried looking it up but all i gathered was that it's something used in twitter rp ) so i'm not exactly sure this'll be the right answer. but i hope this will be of help for you anyway and is what you're looking for. if not, feel free to send me another ask and i'll try to give a better explanation.

after you've set up your blog and gathered some followers, there are two easy ways to get interactions going. technically there are more, but these two are the ones that work the quickest and make you start doing stuff on your blog.

starter calls. make a post titled starter call in which you give people a chance to request a starter from you. they can like or reply to that post, which in turn shows you they're interested in writing with you. now you can either reach out to plot with them ( if you want to ― usually, starter calls are more of a spontaneous thing that isn't really planned out, although it can eventually evolve into something deeper ) or just make a new post / starter for them. you can keep it simple with just a line of dialogue ( remember to make open dialogue and give your partner something to work with; roleplaying is a back-and-forth that requires some kind of effort being put into it ) or write maybe a paragraph or two ― whatever you feel like doing. it's best to tag the person the starter is for somewhere in the post ( you can do that by using @ and putting the username right after the symbol ) so they'll hopefully see your post. from there on, they reblog your post with their reply, and afterward, you reblog your reply to their post, and so on and so on.

memes. another easy way to get things going is by reblogging memes / sentence starters to your blog. you can find a variety of them either by looking up rp memes ( or if you want something more specific, e.g. angst starters, try looking up that ) and all you'll have to do is to click on the reblog button and put them on your blog. now your followers can send you one or multiple of these through your inbox ( which reminds me that you have to make sure that is turned on. to check that, go to your blog settings, scroll down until you see the switch titled "let people ask questions" and make sure it's on ) for you to reply to. as for your reply, you can either directly do that by accessing your inbox ( if you're on desktop, it's the little mail symbol on top / on mobile you can access it by clicking the profile button on the far right, then going to the settings at the top right and clicking on inbox ) and clicking answer or you can make a completely new post in which you'll copy and paste the sentence starter that was sent to you, and then do basically the same thing i explained for the starter call. write your reply, tag the person who sent it to you in it, and let the reply thread begin.

anyway, it might seem a little daunting at first but once you've got the hang of it, it's really simple and quite fun.

#answered questions.#rp tutorial #rp help #tumblr help #rph

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racefortheironthrone · 1 year

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Hey Maester Steven, sorry if you've already answered this and I just can't find it, but what would you sqy are the specialities of each region of Westeros when it comes to war? I have a general idea from the top of my head (like the Riverlands exceling in guerrilla warfare) but wanted to hear your thoughts in full.

I think I've talked about this here, but I'm happy to go into more detail. When it comes to regional specialties of warfare, in some cases it's easier to identify trends than others, but I'll try my best. (I'm also going to tag in @warsofasoiaf, because I'm pretty sure we've talked about it this quite a bit over the years.)

Keep in mind that we're talking about minor variations in Westerosi armies that all tend to have a mix of knights, infantrymen, and archers working together in a late medieval paradigm of warfare heavily based on the Wars of the Roses.

The North:

The North's speciality doesn't seem to be a particular kind of military unit, but rather a kind of unique elan: when we consider the campaigns of Roddy the Ruin (the Fishfeed, the Butcher's Ball, First Tumbleton, and Robb Stark (Whispering Wood, the Battle of the Camps, Oxcross), one of the common trends is that Northern armies often employ a strategy of unexpected reckless charges that rely on aggression and shock to panic the enemy.

Usually, this leads to an emphasis on Northern cavalry as the core of the Northern army, but we also see Northern infantry do the same thing at the Battle of the Green Fork. There are some tactical differences - Roddy tended to favor frontal assaults at the risk of heavy casualties, while Robb Stark favored the use of maneuver and ambush.

Here, I think the North's ferocious if somewhat ill-disciplined approach is evocative of the Highland charge and the way it absolutely devastated much larger, European-trained professional armies until the Battle of Culloden, when changes in bayonet technology and a shift in bayonet tactics to solve the problem of the Highland targe.

The Vale:

We haven't seen the army of the Vale in operation, so we can't really talk about a specialty. However, it's worth noting that repeatedly in the text, the Vale's army is referred to as "the knights of the Vale," so that fits with their general tendency to cultural traditionalism.

The Ironborn:

Essentially equivalent to historical Vikingers, they're very good at naval warfare, marine operations, and ambushes on relatively undefended targets. They make up for the generally smaller size of their ships through the use of misdirection and distraction.

On land, they fight in (somewhat outdated) infantry shieldwalls and are heavily hampered by their total lack of cavalry, and their relative lack of archers. Moreover, they have no experience of fighting cavalry and tend to break in the face of a cavalry charge. They're pretty poor fighters on land, to be honest.

The Riverlands:

As we see both in the Dance of the Dragons and the War of Five Kings, the Riverlands has a historic tendency of constantly being invaded by all its many neighbors. While they often come out on the losing end, they tend to be more successful when they eschew conventional medieval tactics and instead focus on guerilla warfare or defensive setpiece battles that emphasize the use of rivers as natural barriers.

The Westerlands:

Because they have the most money - which is quite reminiscent of the Burgundians - the Lannisters can field multiple large armies with lots of extremely well-trained and equipped soldiers: their melee infantry aren't spearmen but well-armored men-at-arms and well-disciplined pikemen, they have a lot of knights. However, Tywin also has a tendency to use various less-disciplined fighters - the mountain clans, free riders, and some very questionable choices in mercenary companies - as expendable raiders.

The Reach:

As the most populous region in Westeros, the Reach has the advantage of massive numbers - it's full army is 100,000 strong - which gives it the option of attacking from all directions in force, essentially have the luxury of not having to choose where to spend its resources.

Moreover, the Reach is known for its knights - although as noted in my coverage of ACOK, there's something very weird going on with the numbers of the Reach's cavalry, because it seems like it only has 20,000 knights, which seems rather low.

The Stormlands:

The Stormlands are known for their marcher lords, whose men are the best longbowmen in Westeros. They're also known for their castles, so I imagine the Storrmlands are particularly good at defensive siegecraft.

Dorne:

See here. The Dornish have their own entirely different tradition of warfare that bears almost no resemblance to the rest of Westeros, it's a mix of phalanx warfare, horse archers, and jinete light cavalry.

#asoiaf #asoiaf meta #medieval warfare #seven kingdoms

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midnightswithdearkatytspb · 1 year

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MidnightsWithDearKatyTSPB's Recommendation List: February '23 Part 2

Welcome to February's recommendation list, part two. If you haven't already, you can find part one here. The last list had 32 fanfiction recs in it this one might come in a little under as I have my cousin coming to visit me the last few days of the month. If you are interested in having your writing challenges featured here, or your stories, or even just your blog, please feel free to tag me, in your works, message me, or use the hashtag MidnightWithDearKatyTSPB. I hope your valentines day was a good one and those partaking in Lent, you got this! Happy March everyone!

WE REACHED THE LIMIT ON THIS LIST! FROM NOW ON, I'LL TRY & NOT TO MAKE IT SO LONG. SORRY!

🌹 February '23 Pt 1

March '23 🍀

Masterlist

Billy The Kid: The Playlist (Billy O'Grady) - "So what is wrong with another sin?" - "Rock You Like A Hurricane" by Scorpions

King Billy O'Grady (Moodboard)

Playlist for Uhtred the Berserker - "You'll be a man, boy!" - "Run Boy Run" by Woodkid

Uhtred the Berserker (Moodboard)

Thomas Micheal Shelby - "There was no doubt that Tommy Shelby had a soul and a heart that beat."

Luca Changretta (Moodboard)

Thomas Shelby "I Need My Girl" (Mood Board)

A Daughter's Return (Moodboard)

Tommy Shelby Pinterest Ask Game (Moodboard)

Lavender Haze >> Tommy Shelby x Estella Holland (Moodboard)

ONE-SHOTS:

*36 Minutes by @acewritesfics >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Reader gets stood up, but is it really so bad? | Ace delivered again in her Valentine's Day Fic Special. Cranking out some of the best works, I've ever read.

*As The World Caves In by @areyenotfondofmelobster >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: What would you do when your world comes caving in? | I did indeed cry at this beautifully written masterpiece.

Bound By Blood by @noforkingclue >> Dark!Vampire!Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: You never expected that working for the Shelbys would be easy. However, you never expected you would gain the interest of Tommy, let alone what would happen next. | This was so freaking good seriously. I never knew I needed Vampire!Tommy till I read this. I need more Vampire!Tommy.

*A Christmas Journey by @notyour-valentine >> Tommy Shelby & Secretary - Summary: A Journey back from London in the Christmas Season with his secretary doesn't go as planned. | If I’m being honest, I’m not one for Christmas, but this could get me in the mood for Christmas. I love how this takes you into the mind of Tommy and how his secretary influences his view. So well written.

Daddy's Girl by @gypsy-girl-08 >> Tommy Shelby x Wife!Reader - Summary: Tommy's world revolves around his two girls, his wife, and his daughter. | This was cute and a nice change of pace to read. I would like to see more Dad!Tommy and Uncle!Finn as well.

*For A Good Cause by @peacexatxlast >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Tommy is in a mood and snaps at Frances. His wife does not approve... | So hot and so well-written!

*Mama Bear by @acewritesfics >> Tommy Shelby x Wife!Reader - Summary: Inspector Campbell thinks he can get to Tommy through his daughter. Mrs. Shelby finds out and is having none of that. | So good. It's a good reminder to never mess with a mother who loves her child and her family.

Punishment by @mxpseudonym >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Tommy’s wicked games leave you breaking the rules, but punishment for you means punishment for him too. Who can hold out the longest? | This is perfectly Spicy!

Red Lipstick by @cupidsheqrts >> John Shelby x Reader - Summary: You feel flattered when Charlie Shelby asks to marry you while your husband feels like he could strangle his nephew. | This was so adorable to read. I loved everyone's reaction as you read along.

*The Recovery by @cillmequick >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Tommy ruins his own specially planned Valentine’s evening and has to work hard to get back in his wife’s good books. | This is so good! I think I may have blushed while reading it was so good.

Tommy Pressing His Forehead to Yours by @zablife >> dark!Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Ambushed by the Italians, the Shelby family, especially Tommy does everything he can to figure out who did it. | You know it’s good writing when the writer can get your heart to drop to the bottom of your stomach. Lee does what she does best, writing.

MINI-SERIES:

SERIES:

Betrayal by @cillmequick >> Tommy Shelby x Reader x Luca Changretta - Summary: Tommy and Y/N have been together, in secret, for some time, after growing up together on the streets of Small Heath. Tommy was poised to have everything he ever wanted until a colossal error of judgment comes back to haunt him and he finds himself on the wrong side of the woman he loves. | If you haven't read it yet, please do yourself a favor, grab a drink, and get ready to be blown away.

DRABBLES:

Day 14 by @acewritesfics >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: This is a request I made where Tommy gets the marriage license for their marriage. | I'm so happy with how it turned out. It felt like I was getting a Valentine's Day gift.

MINI-SERIES:

Try a Little Tenderness by @ramp-it-up >> Mob Boss!Steve Rogers x Reader - Summary: Steve can't win you with presents. He's got to try a little tenderness. | I came here for the pairing and stayed for the plot. It’s so hot, the plot, that is. Please enjoy this as much as I did.

ONE-SHOTS:

His Most Prized Possession by @bucky-barnes-diaries >> Dark!Mob!Bucky x Wife!Reader - Summary: You’re the wife of the most feared man in all of New York City, James Buchanan Barnes, the mob boss of the biggest mafia in town. Your his—his girl, his beauty, his love, his property, his most prized possession. He will torture and kill anyone who dares to make any advances on his woman, and he won’t hesitate to show them who you belong to in the most sinful way possible before their end. | Just the kind of hot you need on a cold winter's morning. It is 🥵 🥵 🥵 y’all! Remember to read the warnings ⚠️!

Shake It Like A Polaroid Picture by @world-of-aus >> Pornstar!Bucky x Pornstar!Reader - Summary: Bucky loves to take pictures to remember you. | So very spicy, and I loved the writing and teasing!

The Video by @becca-e-barnes >> Pornstar!dbf!Bucky Barnes x Reader - Summary: You find out what your father’s best friend does for work. | Don't ask me why but Pornstar!Bucky and Steve are some of my favorites to read and this one does not disappoint me. You get a good dose of feels, along with a good dose of spiciness in this.

Unattainable by @heavysoldat >> dbf!Bucky Barnes x Reader - Summary: The reader has a horrible, no, good day, in which Bucky comes to save the evening. | If you want something hot to read on a lonely night, this is it for you.

What Goes Around by @navybrat817 >> BFD/DBF!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - Summary: Bucky is your friend's dad and your dad's friend and nothing more. Until he isn't. | This is hot, it’s got the shameless smut, and it’s got the possessive Bucky. What more could you really ask for?

Why Wait by @fatecantstopme >> DBF!Bucky Barnes x Plus size!reader - Summary: You've known Bucky for years, but the dynamic between you had begun to shift since you'd graduated college. He suddenly found himself struggling to act normal around you and you decided to make it your mission to find out why. | The jokes in this were fantastic. It had me laughing. The writing in general, was just fantastic, especially when you get to the hot stuff. Highly recommend!

ONE-SHOTS:

In The Shadow by @littlefreya >> General Kirigan x Reader | Geralt x Reader - Summary: Geralt and you are captured by the Darkling and about to find out his means of punishment are quite unusual. | I would have never thought of this crossover, and I'm so glad the writer did. Please read the warnings, its dark but oh-so-good!

*Stories of Us by @writingdumpster >> Jonah Heidelbaum x Hunter!Reader - Summary: Jonah tells the reader he wants to have a family but she doesn't think she's worthy of motherhood after all she's done. | Do you hear that in the distance? That would be my heart breaking and slowly being put back together all in one one-shot. That is how well-written this is!

TEACH ME + R U SHY? by @ramp-it-up >> Lloyd Hansen x Reader - Summary: Lloyd's had his eye on the maid for the past three days, thinking he's struck the gold mine when he's found a 19-year-old virgin. | This is *chefs kiss* perfect. You will not believe the ending.

MINI-SERIES:

Lost Without You Pt. 1 & Pt. 2 by @gypsy-girl-08 >> Cillian Murphy x Reader - Summary: Your six-year relationship with Cillian, comes to an end. Can you both move on? | This made me feel everything I wanted to feel in a two-shot/mini-series. You have the heartbreak, the love, and the devotion the characters have for one another. Very beautiful.

SERIES:

Begin Again Pt. 2 by @teds-mustache-wrangler >> Ted Lasso x OFC!Penny - Summary: When Penny starts working at AFC Richmond as their new head photographer, she catches the eye of a certain mustached, happy-go-lucky, head coach of the team. But can their spark endure through the season’s pressures and the demons of their past? | You don't understand how honored I am to be able to read this before it gets posted, and also to get to see the characters develop. I didn't ever recall laughing at a story before, but this one, this one makes me laugh.

@zablife - Let's take a moment to say happy one-year anniversary to Lee here on Tumblr! She has over 100 writings she accumulated over the year she's been on here, sharing with us. Lee writes for the Peaky Blinder fandom and the fandom is so very lucky to have her.

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jreads · 2 years

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Unexpected Constellations (Part 06)

Rating: It's not bad, but maybe don't go reading it out loud to your mum or something. Or do, i don't know what your mum is into.

Word Count: 8.3K

Warnings: I do not want to give too many spoilers so i'll just say: Mentions of alcohol, Foul language, Canon-level violence, Slight sexual content.

A/N: My friends I feel like I apologize for being late every time I upload. But again, sorry for being late. Maybe everyone should just come to expect this. In my defence, this part is long, and I kind of almost like it? There's an OC here lol, he might show up again, he might not. Tbh the plot just needed a guy. There also may be some mistakes, but I really hope not. As per usual, check the masterlist for tags and other parts. If you reblog, I'll manifest a Din shirtless in the living waters of Mandalore scene in S3. I know we all want it. Also sidenote: I saw Brittany Broski’s post on TikTok about how she’s in her Mandalorian era…. Anyone want to take one for the team and rec this fic?🧍‍♀️❤️

He had not been joking.

Tendrils of hair stuck to your face, and you reached up for what seemed like the millionth time to pry the strands off. According to the temperature monitor on the ship, it was the hottest time of day, and the sun beat down unforgivingly on the top of your head, the varying wooden overhangs offering little reprieve.

Din was only a step ahead of you, still clothed in full armour, giving no indication that the heat was a bother to him. You didn’t understand it. He must have been under at least three layers, counting the thick plates adorning his shoulders, arms, chest, and thighs, and yet he seemed as phlegmatic as ever. You wondered how the child was faring, tucked away in a bag at your side, still wrapped in his woolly cloak. He had taken a liking to the dragonflies that buzzed around the small natural pool in the clearing where Din had landed the Crest.

The two of you had, after flying over the cove and finding no open landing platforms, decided to set up camp just outside the bustle of town, hidden behind a long stretch of waxy tropical trees. The first wave of humid air had been so pleasant, and you had savoured the fragrant smell of the planet’s flora. But now, barely half an hour into your walk, you would have begged for the cool fan in the ship, and perhaps a bucket of iced water.

As if sensing your discomfort, Din twisted toward you. “We’re almost there.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, barely having the energy to string together a sentence. You didn’t know where ‘there’ was. All he had shared with you before you left the safety of the ship was that he had an old contact in the market, someone that he had worked with long ago, someone you could trust. That remained to be seen. You trusted Din, but you wouldn’t trust a friend of Din’s simply because they were a friend of Din’s. Din had some weird friends.

Overlooking the simmering heat and the stickiness of your skin, the area was quite beautiful. It was exactly what you’d expect from a locale dubbed Raider’s Cove. Towering wood structures lined the edge of sparkling aquamarine water, framed by trees of vibrant green. The forest behind the town seemed alive with noise, buzzes and chirps coming from every direction. The force was rich on this planet, you could feel it. You knew Grogu could too.

The market was even busier, stalls lining the street, selling all sorts of wares from food, to weapons, to jewelry. Din turned right onto a quieter, more shaded lane, and you followed suit. He hung back now to walk alongside you; he had been worried earlier about someone spotting the two of you together.

He spoke to you like a knowledgeable tour guide or a HoloNet narrator. “This market dates back to before the Old Republic. Some families have been selling here for ages, passing their business down through generations. There’s and underside to it, but it’s also home to a lot of honest and genuine people.”

You looked up at him. “I didn’t take you for a history buff.”

“I’m not, I just had an interesting conversation with a talkative shoemaker the last time I docked here.” You grinned at him.

“It must be because you’re so approachable.” His shoulders shook lightly with silent laughter.

Since you had left Tatooine, the dynamic between you two had been… more playful. Something had shifted, just slightly, and you couldn’t quite put a finger on it. But you were content to fall into this comfortable mood with him. Honestly, it was a relief after the worry and angst of a few days prior. He hadn’t approached the subject of your almost departure during the long hours in hyperspace, choosing instead to enlist your help in the connection of a few cables in some small cavity just behind the carbonite log. Your hands were far nimbler than his, so he often got you to aid him with menial tasks like these.

After that, the two of you had put the child to bed and sat in the cockpit together, quietly conversing. Din had shared a few stories with you of his past experiences on Rishi, including the tale of a rather slippery Sullustan who had led him on a chase into the mountains, concluding with a near escape with a few of the locals. At some point you must have fallen asleep because you didn’t remember scaling the ladder back into the hull. But when you woke, hours later, you were curled on your side in the cot, a woollen blanket draped over your body and pulled up to your shoulders. It was a tender gesture, and one that made some part of you ache.

There was also the issue of that unspoken something between the two of you.

Perhaps it was entirely one sided. Perhaps you felt that much stronger now simply because he had seen the darkest parts of you and not shied away from them. You’d be naïve to think he didn’t care for you, but you still doubted he felt the way you did. That undeniable pull, the yearning. Bursting into flames and yet shivering every time you could feel his attention on you. Maker, you wanted him. Badly.

But you also understood the impossibility of it. His creed wasn’t the only thing that stood in between the two of you; there were many, very logical reasons as to why you would never take that step, despite so desperately wanting to.

His hand ghosted over the small of your back, stilling your thoughts. Having abandoned the thicker layers of your suit in the Crest, you wore only a light, loose-fitting undershirt, which was a blessing given the planet’s sweltering conditions. But it did mean that every touch felt like a brand, a sharp jolt of electricity that was so much harder to ignore.

“Here.” He guided you left, into a narrowed, darker passageway. Only a few paces down, he opened a rather beaten door, ushering you inside before following.

Descending old stone steps, the smell hit you first. It was an acrid mix of what you could only assume was piss and alcohol. You tried and failed to supress a grimace. The stairs were wet with something. You weren’t entirely keen to find out what it was.

Finally reaching the bottom, the narrow hall opened up into a dimly lit area. It was similar to some of the cantinas on Tatooine, but the usual sandy colour was replaced with grey stone and worn wood. The tables were large and circular, with strange, patterned squares in the center of each. Lining the wall to your right was a display of bottles, and a tall bar. The only light beamed down from thin windows along the top of the room’s walls. You could see the shadows cast by the feet of people as they walked down the sunny street outside. In here, it was quiet.

“It’s a gambling den.” Din’s voice travelled over your shoulder. “The contact I knew used to work here.” He moved beside you, further into the space. “It’s a long shot but I figured—”

A blaster shot rang out.

Hang circling your wrist, Din twisted you behind him in a flash, the laser bouncing harmlessly off his beskar breastplate.

“Don’t shoot! We’re looking for someone.”

No response. He was braced, broad frame tensed, his grip on your wrist still solid. “We mean you no harm.”

“If you could just answer a few questions, we’ll be on our way.” How polite of him.

You could sense a heartbeat just to the side of a door behind the bar… human. You peered around Din’s shoulder just as—

“Maker, Mando is that you?” The voice was heavily accented, tinted with what almost sounded like humour. A man emerged from the doorway. Every muscle in Din’s body visibly relaxed.

“I didn’t recognize you in that shiny new fit… man I could have killed you!” He came around the edge of the bar, slapping the blaster down on its surface. He approached the two of you, reaching a hand out and pulling Din in for a hug, clapping him heartily on the back. Your eyebrows just about hit the ceiling.

Din was chuckling. “Yeah right, if it makes you feel better.”

It was then that the man noticed you, still standing somewhat awkwardly behind Mando. “Well, who have we here?” Up close, you took in more details. His skin was the richest brown you had ever seen, smooth and almost glowing, even in the near nonexistent light of the den. Dark hair was cropped close to his head, with a brutal, raised tattoo winding its way over his forehead and down the right side of his face.

He bent down and took your hand, lips meeting the back of it lightly. “It’s not often we have such beautiful ladies gracing this establishment.” You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you. You had been called many things before, but beautiful…

Mando answered for you, giving the man your name. Maybe you imagined the sharp edge to his voice.

But you definitely didn’t imagine the way he stepped closer to you, before gesturing to the smiling man in front of you. “This is Castann. We met a few years back, when I came for that bounty I was telling you about.”

“My friends call me Cas.” He extended a hand, and hesitantly, you shook it. His palm was callused but warm against your own. “Apologies for the near-death experience.” He motioned to Din. “Last time I saw this bloke, he was in a much less flashy costume.” You almost choked on a laugh. “Bounty hunting must be treating you well; you’ve got new gear and a girl.”

You waited for a statement of denial from Din. It never came.

Instead, he said: “The last time I saw you, you were neck deep in debt. How’s that going?”

Cas waved his hand in dismissal. “Eh, owner died, I took over the place. You know how it goes.”

“Suspicious circumstances?” Din probed.

He placed a hand over his chest in mock indignation. “You think so little of me?” Cas turned to you again. “Honestly, how do you stand him? Is he always so—?” He put a hand up to his forehead in a salute, face devoid of emotion.

Hoping Din wasn’t looking at you, you nodded hastily. Cas laughed, a rumbling sound. “What brings you two around here anyway? Looking to sample Rishi’s wares? Couples retreat, perhaps?”

You couldn’t stop the smile that was breaking across your face. Considering you had been shot at just minutes ago, you already really liked this guy. He noticed your smile and winked at you, grinning as well.

“We’re here for information on a bounty.” Din’s answer was terse. You shifted your gaze up to him.

He didn’t mean to be curt. He wasn’t upset with anyone. Truly, it was no one’s fault but his own.

And yet, his voice came out sharper than intended, and it drew your eyes away from Castann, muting the smile that had graced your face just moments ago. He had tried not to let it get to him, but in the end, his efforts had been in vain.

It was just frustrating, the ease at which Cas was able to converse with you, connect with you so quickly, place a kiss to the back of your hand. These were small things, seemingly normal for anyone upon first meeting.

But not to him. You had known each other for a long time now, and he had never been able to wink at you like that, to light up your face so easily, to feel the softness of your skin beneath his lips.

He wondered, too often, what that might feel like. He wasn’t well acquainted with the feeling of jealousy, but it settled, oily and unwelcome, in his gut. Pushing his inner monologue aside for the moment, he continued.

“Have you heard anything about an auction? An anonymous source says someone’s here, in the market, trying to sell something important. We need to find them.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Always right to business with you.” He gestured to a table behind you. “Let’s sit at least… you two make me nervous.”

You both turned, Din sliding into the booth on one side of the table. He watched you as you carefully untangled yourself from the straps of the bag. Cas claimed the booth on the opposite side.

It would make more sense for you to sit beside Castann, with Din’s bulky armour taking up most of the bench space. But for whatever reason, you claimed the spot beside him anyway, sliding the bag in so it was sandwiched between the two of you.

Cas seemed to survey the dynamic, his eyes flitting from Din to you, and back again. With a single shake of his head, he slapped his hands down on the table.

“I’d be a terrible host if I didn’t ask if you wanted something to drink. Spotchka, maybe?”

“Isn’t it only just past the sun’s peak?” You asked. “It’s a bit early.”

Cas waggled his eyebrows. “Ah, but time is just a construct here in Raider’s Cove.” Din leaned back, stretching his arm out and over the back of the booth. Castann eyed him suspiciously.

“Alright, no spotchka then. Ruin my fun.” He ran a hand over his scalp absentmindedly.

“Unfortunately, I’ve got nothing super juicy for you.” Din sighed lightly, hoping the sound wasn’t picked up by the modulator. Another dead end. “The port’s been pretty busy, but business usually picks up around this time of rotation.” He sees you nod in his peripheral.

“There’s not much chatter in here?” You asked Cas.

He rested both elbows on the tabletop, grinning at you. “No little lady, there’s not much chatter at all.”

He tapped twice at a worn patch in the stone of the table and the pattered square in the middle of it came to life.

“It’s Dejarik. Do you know how to play?” Din watched you shake your head, carefully examining the holographic creatures flickering in front of you.

“Seriously? Have you been living under a rock?” He was joking of course, but Din noticed the way you tensed at his words, curious features turning blank in a second. He didn’t stop to wonder if Cas noticed too. Instead, he lifted his hand from the back of the booth, angling it just slightly so he could brush his thumb over your shoulder. You straightened.

Cas was still talking. He hadn’t noticed then. Din continued the movement until your shoulders started to relax.

“The patrons of this fine establishment come to watch people play. It’s all about being able to trick the opponent, or bluff, so most of the time it’s pretty quiet.” You hummed in understanding.

Castann motioned to Din. “This guy played the last time he was here. Brought the opponent to his knees. I’ve never won so much money in one night.”

Your eyes shot to him, lips slowly breaking into a broad smile. “Really?”

Maker, you were beautiful.

He took too long to answer—because he was gawking at you—so Cas cuts in again. “Oh yeah, it was brutal. The other guy didn’t even have a chance. He’s lucky it wasn’t a Wookie… not sure he would have left this place with all his limbs intact if it was.”

Your eyes were still fixed on him. He felt a little dizzy.

Finally, he broke out of his daze. He said matter-of-factly: “Ithorians blink too much when they’re bluffing.“ It was the truth.

Cas pointed to Din with his thumb, as if to say: Can you believe this guy? Your laughter pealed through the room.

Seeing as Castann had no helpful information on the bounty, Din was content to let the two of you converse for a while. He had noticed the signs of fatigue as you made your trek into the village, so he thought it best to get a bit of rest in a cool, safe place.

Frankly, he lost track of the topic of conversation, zoning out completely in favour of simply watching you. There was something different about you today, not in terms of your personality, but in the way you looked. The flimsier, oversized undershirt you wore fell low over one shoulder, exposing the hollow of your collarbone. For some reason, he couldn’t stop staring at it. He wanted to trace it. With his hands. With his lips. Your hair was windswept and a little bit wild, falling in an unfamiliar way.

And your face. It had goldened just slightly with the sun, a small tinge of rose brushing your cheekbones and nose. You were flushed and glowing, especially when that signature smile graced your features.

He could have watched you forever.

Maker, he loved the helmet.

He wanted to kiss you.

Maker, he hated the helmet.

His impulses were getting harder and harder to control. In a strange way, it made him feel almost guilty. Like when you stumbled and he would steady you, holding on for longer than necessary, or place a hand on your shoulder or back as he passed you in the darkened hull of the Crest. He hoped it didn’t make you uncomfortable. He wondered if you would say something if it did.

Even last night, you had drifted off in the jump seat beside him, lashes dusting your cheek and lips slightly parted. He should have left you to sleep there. Part of him would argue that he knew the lower part of your spine would ache on the morning, and it was for that reason that he moved you. But the undeniable truth of the matter was that he wanted the feeling of you burned into his palms for good, like an inescapable brand. So, he had moved an arm under your knees, scooping you up from the chair. Mercifully, you hadn’t woken. Your head had lolled to the side, coming to rest on his shoulder. He had cursed the beskar pauldron. But you had sighed contentedly, and part of him had turned to putty at the sound of it.

He had used the lightest thruster setting on the jetpack to descend into the hull, landing so lightly that even Grogu didn’t stir.

Then, he had placed you in the nook, drawing the worn blanket up around your shoulders, and he had let himself wonder, just for a moment, what it might feel like to curl up next to you.

Of course he wouldn’t have noticed the wandering green hand until it was too late.

“What in the kriffing bantha shit—” Cas was letting out a rather impressive string of expletives as he beheld the creature emerging from in between you and Din.

Noticing where his attention had gone, you laughed and scooped Grogu up from the bag. The two of you had discussed this before you departed the Crest, whether or not it was safer to leave the child aboard the ship while you ventured into the port. Ultimately, Din had trusted Castann enough to pack the kid along; it was preferrable to leaving him alone so far out of town, when there were likely other parties circling around.

You placed him on the table surface, and he became engrossed in the flickering holograms of the Dejarik game. “Meet Grogu.”

Castann’s eyes were wide as he looked at the child, and then at you. “That didn’t come out of you, did it?”

He’d never heard you laugh that loud. Trying to compose yourself, you managed to wheeze out: “Stars, no! He’s older than all of us.”

Grogu’s attention had gone from the gameboard to now rest on the stranger at the table. His head was tilted, and ears perked as he focused on Cas. Cas seemed just as engrossed with him.

While the two of them engaged in their staring contest, you turned to face Din, still leaning back casually against the bench, arm over the edge, legs spread wide, still reeling a bit from his inner thought process. He could have sworn you tried and failed to keep your eyes from travelling. You averted your gaze quickly, visibly swallowing. Something white hot shot through him.

“Do I even want to know?” Cas asked, eyes still glued to the child. He cooed in response.

Din’s voice was rough. “Trust me, you don’t.”

Grogu broke eye contact first, turning to you instead, a pleading whine cutting the silence.

You looked exasperated. “He’s hungry.” To the child you pointedly said: “Again.” The kid’s head tilted once more.

“You wouldn’t mind right?” You queried. Castann interrupted you immediately.

“By all means, go right ahead. There’s a bunch of snacks behind the bar.”

Rising, you plucked an excited Grogu off the table surface, tucking him into your arm as you turned and moved to explore the area he had indicated.

Din and Cas both watched as you rummaged behind the bar, finally prying the lid off a tub of dried fruit. Grogu squealed in excitement.

He turned back to Din. “So, what, you’re the hired muscle?”

Din’s eyes stayed on you. “If anything, she’s the hired muscle.”

He huffed a laugh, surveying you again through an awkward period of silence before saying: “Wait, you’re serious?” Din shrugged.

Cas sighed. “You’re down bad, Mando.” He said nothing.

“I’m just saying… full disclosure… I was going to make a move.” So slowly, his helmet twisted to meet Cas’ eyes. The man continued babbling. “Of course, that was after I almost shot her, I mean—” Carefully leaning forward, Mando pressed a button on his gauntlet, the blue lights of the whistling birds blinking into existence along the top of his arm.

Cas immediately started to backpedal, hands held up in surrender. “Well obviously I get it now. Put those away.”

Din hummed, pressing another button as the weapons slid back into their sheaths.

A moment of quiet passed between the two men before Cas asked: “Since I’m so good at prying, I have to ask… Why continue the bounty hunting if you’ve got them to watch out for?” He motioned to you. Din followed his gesture, noting your body language, that which he now understood was you communicating with Grogu. Mind to mind. Half a piece of chewed fruit dangled out of the child’s mouth.

“I know you’re not strapped for credits. Wouldn’t you prefer to keep them out of harm’s way?”

“Of course I would.” His answer was instantaneous. After a breath he amended: “It’s complicated.”

“Always is with you, Mando.” He contemplated saying something else, but you were already rounding the edge of the bar, carrying the kid, who was grasping two sticks of dried fruit in his clumsy claws like a lifeline.

“We should probably get going if we want to scout out any more of the market before nightfall.” You were right. Din got up, reaching to hand you your bag. The child seemed content to clamber right back in, having achieved his goal quite easily.

Cas walked the two of you up the stairs again, nose scrunching at the mystery liquid you had noticed on the way down. He mumbled something about getting the droid to mop it up.

Reaching the door, he swung it open, letting you and Mando pass. “Mind the curve of the main road on your way out of town. There was some action there yesterday. Two off-worlders. Both wound up dead.”

You looked to Din just as he looked to you. Castann caught on quickly.

“Oh.” The corners of his mouth turned down. “Probably should have mentioned that earlier.”

You turned to him. “Thank you… for everything.”

“Anytime, princess.” He offered you a lopsided, mischievous grin in return. “Take care of each other.” Din watched you nod, and his heart strained. “Hopefully, I’ll see you guys around. Stay safe, yeah?”

“We will.” Din replied. “Let me know if you catch any info.”

“Will do.” He clapped Din on the back once, before re-entering the stairwell.

After bidding your final farewells, you ventured back to the main stretch of road, the heat only slightly more manageable after your short reprieve.

You had walked through the curve on your way to meet Castann, but frankly, you hadn’t been paying much attention at the time, too focused on not expiring from the warmth of the day. The two of you would do some rudimentary scouting today and come back tomorrow if you had no luck.

A light breeze drifted between the wooden structures now, carrying the salted scent of the ocean. You desperately wanted to go see it, but you weren’t going to badger Din about it. The two of you were here on a mission, not a vacation.

He walked a bit closer to you than he had on the way into town, allowing you to lead through the street. More than a few people averted their eyes as the two of you walked past.

“I don’t like this.” Din’s voice rumbled from over your shoulder. “It’s too open.”

“You’re being paranoid.” You replied over one shoulder. “We won’t linger though. Let’s give the area a once-over and then head back.”

He hummed in agreement. The curve was just up ahead, slightly less busy than the rest of the stretch. On one side was a worn wooden structure, jutting out into the street. The concave side of the cobblestone road was occupied by two merchant stands, now vacant for obvious reasons.

You rounded the corner, coming to stop in front of the building at the point of the junction. A weathered sign swung on rusty hinges atop the door.

Rare artifacts was engraved on the wood in messy Aurebesh.

You huffed. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Din moved around you, approaching the darkened storefront. He ran his gloved fingers over a singed burn in the wood. “Blaster marks.” He noted. He tried the door handle. It didn’t budge. He yanked harder.

“If we’re going to try to break in, maybe we shouldn’t do it in broad daylight?” You hissed the suggestion.

A small Rodian child was watching a few paces away with interested eyes.

Din’s helmet turned toward the kid; it took off running down a side street at a startling pace.

He stalked back toward you. “Fine. We’ll come back later.”

“At least we know we’ve got the right spot.” The two of you continued down the road, taking a left fork that would lead you out of town.

“Probably.” He corrected.

“Probably.” You echoed.

A few minutes of quiet passed as you walked. You could tell something was off with him; it had been that way since the gambling den. But you were so unsure of how to approach the subject that it forced you into silence.

You ran over the events of meeting Castann again, hoping to identify the cause of the uneasiness you sensed. But all your mind snagged on was the way he had brushed his hand over your shoulder to calm you. The way he had looked reclined against that bench, the portrait of calm. The way you had caught his helmet angled towards you, several times throughout the meeting, even when you had gotten up to find some food for Grogu. You were overanalyzing everything, but you had never really been able to think straight when it came to him.

Your thoughts stopped dead in their tracks.

He had abruptly grasped your hand in his, intertwining your fingers. His hand was so large it practically engulfed your own. You looked up in shock, bewilderment, but his focus wasn’t on you. And then he was turning, tugging on your arm to get you to follow, hastening his steps so much you had to take large strides to keep up. He must have noticed some sort of danger. You cast a glance over your shoulder.

“Don’t look behind you.” He pulled on your arm again. You stumbled to keep up. “Keep moving.” He practically growled.

“What’s going on?” His heartbeat was racing. So was your own.

“Hunters.” The two of you kept moving at a brisk pace, re-entering the busier part of the market. “They were the ones who were shooting on Nevarro. They’re part of the Guild.”

He turned a corner into another darkened side street, hauling you with him. Finding an inset in the stone wall, a residential entrance by the look of it, he pushed you up against the side, caging you in, leaning ever so slightly to look around the edge of the cavity in which you now hid. You followed his action, twisting your neck at an uncomfortable angle. You could only see a sliver of the main road.

Swarms of people walked by. You scanned the crowd for the usual telltale signs. Weapons, weather resistant gear, advanced technology. Nothing. You waited with bated breath. And then…

A duo. You weren’t familiar with their species. The crowd parted for them as they walked, scanning their surroundings with lethal precision. The air almost seemed to cool in their presence. You were instantly thankful that Din had been so hasty in your retreat.

It took them a few moments to pass by the street where you were hiding, the breeze slowly seeming to return to its stuffy temperature. You didn’t dare move a muscle. Still, you kept your neck craned back towards the road.

Relief flooded through you when you finally lost sight of them. That was far too close. With Grogu here as well, you had to be so careful. There was too much to lose. There could be others as well, having tracked the same information as you and Din. You would need to be extremely cautious on your way back to the ship—

A gloved finger traced the raised tendon in your neck, featherlight, painfully slow. You stopped breathing.

It swept down and across your collarbone, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. You were frozen in place, unable to move, to talk, to focus on anything past the sensation of leather on the warmth of your skin.

It took all of your strength and bravery to twist your neck back to him. Farrik. The visor was mere inches from your face, looking down on you, so close, as if he wanted to breathe you in. This was a very real boundary between the two of you, one that had never been crossed.

Until now.

You weren’t going to fight a losing battle. You didn’t want to. In that moment, you knew you would have done anything he asked; you just wanted him to keep touching you.

He had always been so good at reading you.

His other hand came around your waist, hitching you up against him. A beskar-clad thigh moved to rest between your legs. You almost moaned.

Holy stars, you could feel him against you. Everywhere, all at once. It was too much. You let your head fall back against the stone. Your eyes fluttered shut.

“Din.” It was both a question and a plea.

He continued, thank the maker. The curve of your shoulder, the edge of your jaw, the flare of your hips. He mapped them all with painstaking patience, as if he had all the time in the world. You were practically melting under him, a breathless mess.

He had you, entirely at his mercy. There was too much armour, too many layers separating you from him. You wanted to have him. Your brain was going fuzzy. If only—

The door slid open abruptly. Mando had you behind him in a millisecond, those torturous hands now resting ever so cautiously on the weapon at his belt.

A plump lady emerged and waved the two of you away, yelling something in a language you didn’t understand. He retreated slowly, keeping you behind him, palms exposed to show he meant no harm. Still, she shooed at the both of you.

Your senses were in overdrive. The sun was suddenly too bright, the sounds too loud. It was some sort of fight or flight reaction and you wondered, distantly, if the heat that pooled low in your core had something to do with the adrenaline.

Din led you out of the side street, but not back the way you came. The main stretch was too risky now, so you’d have to take a roundabout way out of town. He didn’t say anything. Neither did you. But the tension was so thick, so ever-present, that it clouded your senses.

You were both silent the entire walk back to the Crest.

Thanks to the time spent with Castann, the sun was already beginning its descent as you made it back to the ship. The sky took on a gorgeous coral glow, offset against the azul blue of the natural pond in the clearing where you had landed.

Din was a few steps behind you, having kept his distance the entire way back. As if he couldn’t stand to be near you. You didn’t blame him for not saying anything. You weren’t quite sure what to say either. This was one of the many reasons why the more sensible part of you had refused to get closer to him. You had wanted to avoid… this.

The uncomfortableness, the embarrassment, the hesitation, the doubt.

The Crest’s door opened with a hiss, the ramp descending to touch the vibrant grass. You were to first to walk up into the hull. Fine. If you were trapped in the ship together, you’d have no choice but to talk it out… Eventually.

But as you set the bag down on the bunk, the child crawling awkwardly out of it, the ramp door began closing. He hadn’t followed you in.

Only when it sealed shut did you allow your head to fall back, an exhausted sigh escaping, and tears stinging in your eyes. How silly. Why did you suddenly feel like crying?

Grogu cooed once, and you offered him a phoney smile, trying to blink back the tears before they fell. Your minds connected easily.

He was confused. He sensed the unease between yourself and Din. And he didn’t like it.

“I know little guy.” You sat on the edge of the cot with him, and he cozied up to your side. His thoughts flickered through memories of the three of you, like a photo album. You, smiling down at him, Din a looming presence just over your shoulder. Playing catch, you and him using the force to pass, and Din… the only one actually having to throw the ball. Being reunited in Mos Espa, the Mandalorian and yourself fighting side-by-side to protect him. You knew what the kid was getting at; you could feel it, clear as day, in his emotions.

“We’ll figure it out.” You weren’t sure who you were trying to convince. His ears twitched.

“Are you tired?” You already knew the answer. His restless energy was palpable, probably from having been trapped in a stuffy side bag all day.

You shifted further onto the bed, pulling him with you. “Well, let’s at least make good use of our time then.” You crossed your legs, watching him fall gracelessly into sitting position. Placing your hands on your knees, you took several deep, grounding breaths.

Sith meditation had never really worked for you. It had always been about channeling your anger, focusing negative emotions, and forging them into weapons. Back then, it had been doable, the anguish of losing your father, the fear of the place you had lived, the rage towards those who had kept you trapped fueling your survival. But once you had escaped, once there was no one else to hate, nothing else to be afraid of, you had to find a new way to connect to the force.

It had taken some time to learn how to quiet your mind and tune in to your surroundings instead, but the swamp planet had been as good a place as any to learn. You supposed it could be considered Jedi meditation, you had never really been able to confirm it with anyone.

Grogu was very good at it now, having learned so much from his lessons with Skywalker. A selfish part of you wished you could have met him too, asked him for guidance and advice. You had stayed on the ship with Boba that day, thanks to Din labeling you as last resort backup. But a part of you also wondered if Luke would have been distrustful of you because of who you were, or who you had been.

The child’s mind was already quiet by the time you closed your eyes. The two of you drifted together, and you thankfully let the anxiety of the day’s events fall away.

You so easily lost track of time like this, and it took the reopening of the ship’s ramp doors to jar you from your meditative state. Judging from the way the sky had faded into a deeper orange, you assumed about an hour had passed.

The Mandalorian came striding up the incline, jetpack and weapons belts dangling from his left hand. Grogu’s eyes opened, and he let out a shrill noise, already reaching for his father.

He approached you carefully, and it took all your effort to not break eye contact with him. Memories of earlier came flooding back. You sincerely hoped your face wasn’t flushed.

“The water is nice…” He reached in to pick up the child. “…If you want to wash up.”

“Okay.” Your voice was too high pitched. Stars, you had been meditating while, mere metres away, he had shed the armour and flight suit… and probably the helmet too. You had never seen him without either.

His voice broke your treacherous train of thought. “Are you okay?” It felt like he was continuously asking you that, at least once a day.

Grogu was now tucked under his arm, staring back at you with wide eyes. “Yeah.” You replied. It was the most you could muster.

“Okay.” He exhaled, almost in… relief? An then he was moving towards the ladder. “I’ll leave you to it then.” You waited for the door of the storage room to close before you allowed yourself to get up.

He was practically stumbling over himself. He didn’t know what to do. Wasn’t sure what to say. The whole thing was a mess.

He had brought Grogu up to the storage room in the back upper level of the ship, to give you some privacy while you bathed. But unfortunately, that left him alone with his own thoughts, which wasn’t exactly preferable.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.

He had been sitting on the floor for about a half an hour now, the child having climbed up on his lap, eagerly accepting ear scratches. Every second of the past 30 minutes had been spent picking apart what had transpired in that market.

It had been entirely spontaneous, about as unexpected to him as he assumed it was to you. In a dangerous situation as well, it had been so foolish of him. But it was almost as if he had relinquished the controls to his own body, the damn thing was on autopilot, and it was just aching to get caught in your orbit. But when he had felt you relax in his grip, watched you bare yourself to him, heard your breathing change, he realized he had never let himself consider it for more than a moment.

The fact that you might want him too.

Even now it seemed absurd; you hadn’t even seen his face. And the tension afterwards, the way you wouldn’t meet his gaze, he second-guessed everything he had seen, heard, and felt in that alley.

The child was watching him quizzically. “Keep your wizard mind-reading to yourself.” He let out a string of unintelligible sounds in response. Din sighed in resignation.

He couldn’t avoid you forever; he knew that. And the embarrassment of this, it would be nothing compared to the dejection he would feel if he let you drift apart from him. The avoidance of the subject had already caused an awkwardness between the two of you; it would only get worse the longer he left it. So, it was decided.

Grabbing the child, he rose up on stiff legs. He’d wait in the hull for you, under the guise of tinkering with some mechanics and, after gauging your mood, would approach the subject.

He was conveniently forgetting to consider the fact that his brain consistently short-circuited whenever you were near. And the fact that he couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself.

Several minutes later, you strode up the ramp. He didn’t even get a chance to breathe.

“We need to talk.”

Oh. Shit. Plan failed. Retreat.

He was crouched in front of an electric wiring panel in the hull wall, and you hoisted yourself onto a crate beside him. Your hair was wet, and you were scrunching it in a damp shirt, but your eyes were on him. Wasn’t that what he had wanted? He was so worried that you wouldn’t look at him, but now that you were… all the things he had planned to say ebbed from his mind, dripping onto the floor of the Crest like the water you had wrung from your hair.

He carefully put the tool he was using down, looking back up at you. Your features were determined.

“About what?” God kriffing damn it. He knew exactly what. He should have factored in that you would look like that. He also should have factored in what he had felt in the alleyway. Because right now it was back with a vengeance, and all he could think about was what your flushed skin—washed clean by the water of the pool—would feel like under his bare palms. He squeezed his eyes shut and reopened them, refraining from curling his hands into fists.

“You know what.” You attention hadn’t wavered, still fixed solidly on him. No turning back now. He got up slowly, steadily. You tracked him the entire way, eyes travelling the length of his body, just once.

Farrik, he was trying so hard to behave. But he was getting such vivid flashbacks, images bouncing around in his mind. The curve of your neck, tipped back against the stone wall, your body tensing and relaxing. There were other fleeting pictures too, things he had only imagined. Your legs over his shoulders, the way you sinfully moaned his name.

He was already too far gone.

He advanced on you, watching the look in your eyes shift. Were you scared? Of him? He stopped about a foot away, pulling at the leather on each fingertip, loosening them enough to slide the gloves off, and stacking them on the crate to the left of you. “What, exactly, did you want to say?”

His voice was not his own. It was too rough.

You were silent for a long moment, and he became consciously aware of the rise and fall of your chest. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale Inhale. Exhale. He was teetering over the edge. Inhale— Enough.

He stepped into your space, and you gasped sharply, angling your head slightly to keep your eyes on the visor. Another roaringly quiet moment passed. He took the damp shirt from your hands—were they trembling?—and placed it to the side. You seemed to have already forgotten it.

He spoke your name once, softly. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

You opened your mouth to reply… and then shut it. You were just staring at him, blinking rapidly, hands fidgeting. You were nervous.

Fine. He’d have to prompt you then.

“Did you want to talk about this?” He brushed the backs of his fingers against the pulse in your neck. Your body reacted immediately. So he hadn’t imagined it. A thrill coursed through him, replacing the trepidation from earlier with something bolder. Still, you didn’t answer him.

He followed the same path, dragging his hand down your neck and across your clavicle. “Or was it this?” He had been drunk on the feel of you through the leather, but without the gloves it was torment. You were so soft,of course you would be. Your eyes had gone hooded; even under the soft light of the sunset, they were much darker. He never wanted you to stop looking at him like that.

“Maybe it was this.” He circled your waist with one arm, pulling you to the edge of the crate, until your body was flush with his. Your legs parted for him, and he stepped between them. You were pliant under his palms, your own hands coming to rest on his breastplate.

“I want to talk about this.” He dragged his thumb down your bottom lip, drinking in the way your eyes fell closed and you leaned back slightly, bringing him with you. He was enjoying this far too much. “Is that what you wanted to talk about too?”

His hands continued their ministrations, roaming and exploring, even as you remained quiet.

“Come on mesh’la.” He grasped you by the waist, putting just a sliver of distance between your two bodies. “What did you want to say?”

Finally, your eyes opened again. His knees almost buckled. Your pupils were blown wide. “What is this?” you asked. It was barely a whisper.

“What do you want it to be?” Because he would be anything for you, even if it meant not revealing the depth of his feelings. If you wanted this, only the physical aspect of it, he would give it to you willingly. Absolutely anything you wanted. All you had to do was say the words.

“I don’t…” You paused and he could see another emotion creep into your eyes. “I don’t know.” He tilted his head. In a low voice, you admitted: “I’ve never felt this before.”

Truthfully, he hadn’t either. He said as much. He hadn’t expected you to look so surprised.

“You don’t need to figure it out right now.” Your features softened. “Take all the time you need.” He’d wait for you until the suns of Tatooine reversed their trajectory. But you didn’t need to know that yet.

You nodded and took a shaky breath. “Okay.”

“Okay.” He repeated. He removed his hands from your waist, but before he could pull them away, you grasped his left, flipping it over, studying it.

“What?” he asked, a hint of humour apparent in his voice.

“I’m just trying to imagine what the rest of you looks like.”

Something in him fractured. He covered it up quickly, jokingly quipping: “Are you imagining certain parts more than others?”

You dropped his hand, face flushing, and smacked him on the pauldron. He chuckled and extended the hand to you once more, to help you down from the crate. Taking it, you gracefully slid off. He held on for a moment too long.

“Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

Night had long since fallen by the time you made your way back into Bootlegger’s Market. It was still busy but, as expected, the curved junction in the road was quiet. Having been the scene of a hunter’s gunfight not too long ago, people were wise to stay away.

This time, when Din went to open the door to the rare antiques storefront, it moved easily. The squeaky hinges however, instantly put a wrench in your plan.

“There goes the element of surprise.” You hissed from behind him. He palmed at the saber hilt.

You followed him inside, closing the door noisily behind you. A cringeworthy entrance.

The two of you crouched behind a shelf, trying to get a feel for your surroundings. The room was dark and unbelievably cluttered. Trinkets of all shapes and sizes littered the surface of every table, shelf, and bench. Some creature’s horns were mounted on the wall, still attached to a portion of skull. You fought a shudder.

It would be near impossible to find the crystal in this mess. But if the door had been left unlocked, that meant that someone was here.

Or someone beat you to it. You shut down the thought before it could fester.

Din looked behind him, signalling you to go left around the edge of the shelf, while he would take the right. You nodded in understanding. A voice cut through the silence.

“There’s no need for all that, you know. He’s already gone.” You heard the hiss of a match being lit and seconds later; a flickering light illuminated the store. Behind it was the face of a gorgeous, rich green Twi’lek. You stood, Din walking back around the shelf to come to your side.

“You’re too late. He left early this morning.” She placed the candle down on the table beside her. “He said I’d only need to watch the shop.”

You and Din said nothing. She huffed and put a hand on her hip. “Can you believe I’ve been held at gunpoint four times today? You hunters have no morals.”

You were taken aback by her frankness. Din spoke for you. “Where did he go?”

“Wow, finally someone gives me the chance to tell them without threatening to kill me.” She collapses onto a stool, waving her hand in dismissal.

“He took a transport to Canto Bight. There’s an auction in the casino there in 50 hours’ time.”

“Thank you.” Din offered. She let out a humorless chuckle.

“Yeah, good luck. You’ll probably have to fight to the death just to get a landing space.”

Taglist: @that-girl-named-alex @aavengingbucky @prismaticpizza @blub-senpai

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