#but people would call in favors asking me to mix for them when they could

[maxellminidisc]

Genuinely kinda miss music production. In general making music was my most cathartic form of expression and used to make me feel so whole and I think I've been trying to get that feeling back since I put it down with no success

[jarofstyles]

The Favor 9

Hey... Sorry it took me a minute. I've decided this is definitely not the only club scene for them because there's a lot I want t explore with them. Part of me wants to apologize for adding so much in but I hope you guys love them as much as I do!!! They are one of my all time favorite pairings to write.

Also don't worry Im working on getting rid of Danny lol

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WC- 10.2k

Warnings- dom/sub dynamic, BD/SM, Exhibitionism, voyeurism, degrading, choking, sir/daddy kink, pet/puppy nicknames, name calling, slight Mean Dom H mixed with soft Dom tbh, tiny bit of humiliation kink, aftercare is in the next part I promiseeeee

Y/N was buzzing in her own skin. 

So much was happening in her brain that it felt borderline overwhelming. She stood in Harry’s bathroom looking into the mirror with her hands on her face, just to confirm that she was, in fact, a real person. 

The night prior had been intense. A lot, but in a good way. Something had shifted between them, as she suspected, but neither of them were truly ready to talk about it. Harry was instead, a lot more affectionate which… to be honest, she hadn’t expected. It was a glorious change, feeling his hands or eyes on her whenever she was in a room with him. He’d had her sit on his lap while he proof read something on his laptop, his hand stroking over her stomach and underneath one of his shirts that he’d put on her after their bath the night before. There was no urgency to talk, Y/N leaning her head on his shoulder and relaxing into the warm, fresh smell of the man she was so connected to whilst scrolling on her phone. He’d made them breakfast and ordered them lunch, but she had noticed a distinct lack of kissing. 

It made her wonder if she pushed a bit last night, asking for one. Somehow she doubted it considering he had been the one giving her kisses the last few weekends together, but there was a weird seed of dread in her stomach that reminded her that at some point the weekend would be over and the warm place she had in the pool of Harry’s warmth would dry up and she’d need to come back up for air. To go through the week without seeing him, except maybe for a lunch, when she had grown so needy for his mere presence. He was attentive even when they weren’t physically around, more than the man she had called her boyfriend, but it still didn’t feel like enough. As weird and freaky as it sounded, she wanted to crawl under his skin somehow. Get as close as possible. 

Tonight they’d be going to the sex club. Something she was both excited and nervous about, the weird feeling in her chest making her wonder which one outweighed the other. Harry had communicated very clearly that this first visit was going to be rather tame- or, as tame as a sex club visit could be. They’d watch a scene he had pre chosen, a voyer couple in a room open to exhibitionists. Before that, they’d mingle and he would introduce her to some of his friends he had there. 

One thing she wasn’t too sure about though, was getting too close to anyone he had played with before. Y/N, while not historically jealous, found her skin crawling with ants at the idea of having to be around someone else who knew how he tasted, how he looked when he came. Sure, he wasn’t officially hers, but it felt like it more than she cared to admit. That had added on to her anxiety but it wasn’t something she wanted to openly admit to him yet, so she kept it under wraps for the time being.

He’d done something nice for her and got her a dress. A cute little thing, lacy and white. A sweetheart neckline and strapless, she was hoping the strapless bra was going to do its job- but then again, she kind of hoped maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe he had chosen the dress for ease of access. The idea of him slipping down the top and playing with her in front of other people had her wet the moment she thought about it. 

Her panties, though, were noticeably missing in the ensemble. When she asked about them, his smirk had rose on his lips. ���Who said you were getting any?”

So all in all, she was a complete and utter wreck of hormones and anxiety. 

Freshly showered, she had fixed her hair and sat staring at herself with her makeup half done. Another of the dominant’s shirts hung off her shoulders. He had a vanity that was cleared of anything but her stuff, which was nice, but another flare of jealousy had worked its way through her. Who else had used this vanity for this exact thing? Who else had been getting ready for him to take them to the club to play with them in the way that was so uniquely Harry? 

It was no right of hers to be jealous or possessive when she was still in a relationship, though it was one she was having her doubts about. Her phone remained empty of any texts from him. The longer he put it off, the less she cared about what he had to say. Anger wasn’t really there considering Harry had been giving her plenty of attention, but still. Her brain was craving the quiet only the Dominant had managed to give her. 

“Alright?” His sudden appearance made her squeal, jumping in her chair. Clutching her ever beating heart, she looked at him wide eyed in the reflection. Where the fuck had he come from and how long had he been there? 

“Fucks sake, H.” She wheezed. “You need some sort of bell or something. How long have you been standing there?” Where she expected a laugh, she got none. His brows furrowed and his lips pursed, he turned the chair towards him and lifted a hand to tilt her head up. “For a minute or two. I was waiting for you to notice but…” Eyes scrutinized her face. “You’re nervous.” 

There wasn’t much she could hide from him. To be fair, she hadn’t planned on it, but it was still annoying, borderline unsettling on how he could read her like an open book. “A little. It’s not a big deal though.” 

“We don’t have to go yet, if you aren’t ready. We don’t have to go at all.” His voice was soft as he kept his face placid, clearly trying not to sway her either way. It was yet another confirmation to her that he actually did give a fuck about her well being. 

The idea of not going at all, though, made her shake her head rapidly. Wouldn’t that mean they would cut off their arrangement? As selfish as it was, she couldn’t give him up yet. She couldn’t give up the orgasms and the kisses and the praise, just as much as she didn’t want to give up the daily texts and jokes and pictures of Buttons when she was back at her own place. “No! It’s just, it’s a little intimidating. That’s all.” She sighed, leaning into his hand. That seemed to soften him a bit, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip as he tried to gage her. 

“What about it has got you intimidated?” 

It felt oddly good having him standing over her, petting at her. His gaze soft, looking down at her as he tried to make her feel comfortable but undeniably in control of the situation. Of her. 

“You know people there, mostly. But the whole thing. I know we’ve gone over what we’re doing but it feels bigger the closer we get there. Y’know?” She puckered her lips over the pad of his thumb, watching as his smile tipped the corner of his lips. These tiny acts of intimacy were going to be the ones that ruined her. “I’m very excited. It’s what I’ve wanted, you know? And I kinda think that makes me put more pressure on the expectation.” 

Harry hummed in his throat, nodding along to her observations. It made logical sense and she knew it, but seeing him agree made her feel a little better. Maybe she wasn’t overreacting after all. 

“It is intimidating. It's taboo, in a way. Something that’s going to shock your system. You don’t go many places with people being so open sexually around you. It isn’t so blatant until the shows start, but even then. It’s the sort of stuff you're used to fantasizing about, and to see it right in front of you can be a lot to take in. Seeing people on leashes, or full body spandex, masks, all of that. It’s new to you, so I expect it to be intimidating to you. But may I offer you a few pieces of advice?” 

Y/N would lick his shoes if he asked in the right tone of voice, so she nodded. She wondered if she would get away with it, and his eyes did narrow, but he chose to let it go. 

“The only person I’m going to be focusing on when we go is you. I have some friends, yes, and I’d like you to meet them and their submissives, but I’m not expecting you to make best friends at the first meeting.” He started, ever so slowly pushing his thumb into her mouth. Testing the waters. Like second nature, she began to suck lightly on the tip of it as he continued talking, the tip of her tongue brushing the pad of his finger. “But the real advice I have is to let go. Let me control the night. I’ve got you, I’ve got everything you need to do up in my head. All you’ve got to do is follow directions. If I tell you to say hello? Say hello. If I don’t, you don’t. If I tell you to sit on my lap, you sit there. Tell you to get on your knees, you do it. If I tell you to suck my cock, you do it. Because everyone else there is doing the same thing, if not, they’re there to watch it happen. There’s nothing you need to worry that pretty little head about.” His eyes darkened slightly as she took his thumb a little further into her mouth, blinking up at him. “Okay? Daddy’s got you.” 

Somehow it worked. Some of that anxiety melted away, realizing he was fully serious. All she needed to do was listen to him. That was the backbone of all of this. 

“You’re in control. You’ve got the power to color out, you’ve got the boundaries and I’m just there to make sure you’re tended to properly. Remember what I said, hm? Me being in control is only because you allow me to be.” 

That had been something she learned more and more as the time passed by with him. As incredible as it felt to have him be in charge, she had the ultimate say so. She could color out at any moment. There was no reason not to trust him because he had never given her a reason not to. 

“Your safe word isn’t just for sex, either. Anything you want to stop tonight, you tell me. I know you’ll be good and remember that, but I just need to remind you before you hand yourself over to me. I will never be disappointed or angry because you need a break, or you don’t want to do something. I care about you a lot more than I care about nutting off or showing off to people.” 

In truth, Harry would never forgive himself if something happened and she ever felt unsafe with him. It was a team effort, yeah, but he did think he was good enough at reading her that he would be extremely upset if he didn’t predict something like that. Y/N did run a bit anxious sometimes. He’d been able to get her to a point where she completely let go for him, and he wanted to repeat that pattern over and over until the weight that she felt on her shoulders lessened. As strong as the woman was, he wanted to help take some of it on his own back. 

His thumb pulled from her mouth with a soft ‘pop’, the dominant ignoring the whimper and smearing the sweetness of her saliva over her chin. It was the world’s highest honor to see her eyes round out for him, to watch her track his every moment like the eager pet she had proven to be for him. Knowing she wanted to please him made him feel more powerful, more fulfilled, than he had been in a very long time. Showing her off was something he had been more than looking forward to doing, but there wouldn’t have been any use in doing it if she wouldn’t feel equal enjoyment. “Are we okay, Sweets?” 

“Yeah.” She sighed, the sigh exhaling against his damp finger. “I gotta finish getting ready though. You have my outfit picked out on the bed?” 

“I do.” He nodded, lightly fingering a loose tendril of hair that brushed her cheek. “And you’ll be wearing that black peacoat over it. Should keep you nice and warm.” Tilting her chin up, he placed one of the first kisses of the evening on her pouty lips before smoothing his thumb back over her mouth. “You’ve got time, darling. Don’t worry.” 

—--

Y/N felt marginally better as she held on to his hand, clinging for dear life on his wrist with the other as they waited at the front entrance. 

There had been quite a lot she expected from a club dedicated to kink. Karma was as sensual and mysterious as ever, but the front of a closed hair salon letting them in had been a shock to the system. If she hadn’t known any better, she would have thought Harry had lost his mind until he opened the back room door and exposed an entirely different aesthetic. A black and gold elevator, black marble floor and red curtained walls. That had to be a bitch to dust. 

With a key card, he placed it on the gold plated button pad and it opened for them to step inside. Now that she was in the elevator she could hear some music, some people, but nothing she could have ever expected from the street view. Privacy was very important to them, as she could tell. “They’re going to put our phones and my keys into the locker and we’ll get them on the way out. It’s for everyone’s privacy, but there are staff in there to ensure you have an out if you need it.” Unwinding their fingers, his grip changed to her jaw to tilt it up to look at him. The casual dominance had her knees weak. How did he manage to do it so seamlessly? “We’re gonna check out coats, and then we’ll go in. You are safe with me, Pet.” His tone was gentle, reminding her again how he had been the best thing to wander into her life. There was no saying shit just to say it. The man wanted to assure her, drill it into her brain, that he was completely here for her and everything they did was because she wanted to do it. 

As intimidating as it was, she swallowed the lump around her throat and gave him a nod before allowing him to take her coat off.  Standing in front of a hostess and the man who worked the coat check in her little outfit had made her a little stiff at first, but the moment she heard the quiet curse under his breath, their opinions didn’t matter. 

He had chosen a maroon babydoll for her to wear tonight. Satin cups clung over her breasts while it transferred to a tight knit mesh-like material that flowed over her body and hit her upper thighs. The panties had been a bit of a different choice, rather simple silk ones with lace trim. She’d expected lace, a g string, something else but they were really nice. It wasn’t overtly sexual, but it made her feel sexy as she had tugged them up her thighs and settled the waistband on her hips. The outfit had surprised her a little considering she had thought maybe he’d want her to wear something completely form fitting or restrictive, like spandex or leather, but instead he’d gone with something more flowy and light. Maybe he was starting them soft for the first time, but it was the sexiest she had felt so far in her life. 

“You look incredible.” He mumbled, placing the coat numbers on the counter with their phones and his keys. “Fuck me.” Lithe fingers traced over the straps, the feather light touch stopping at the necklace he’d chosen for her tonight. A simple gold chain with a heart. At first she had thought he would give her one of those collars, but she wasn’t sure how that worked. 

“I was going to give you the one with my first initial, but I was saving that.” The admission made her eyebrows raise. Why hadn’t he done that? “I wanted to ease you into it, and for some reason you’ve been turnin’ me into a possessive son of a bitch. Wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep composure if it was on there like that… But I don’t think that matters too much now, anyway.” 

Harry had always known he was attracted to Y/N in otherworldly, almost inappropriately intense ways. While he could be a jealous man, he hadn’t felt it to this degree. Irritated that she didn’t have his name on her neck or a traditional sign of ownership. He was a weak man when it came to her, but he didn’t mind when he could see her preen slightly over his words. The one thing that was soothing his inner caveman was the fact that she had marks from him on her body. Love bites blooming from the swell of her left breast and one he’d sucked on the right side of her neck, a few little bruises from his fingers digging into her hips… They were little badges of honor. 

He’d caught her this morning, admiring them in the foggy mirror. He’d come to bring a fresh towel before she got into the shower and watched quietly as she ran her fingers over the marked skin, the tiniest little smile on her lips that made his cock twitch. If they hadn’t had plans to come here tonight he would have bent her over the counter and gave her more. That silent appreciation at the tiniest hints of ownership meant more than she would ever know. 

“I can wear it next time.” She peeped, meeting his eyes. “I like this one too, but… I like the other idea.” 

The silence was loud for a moment as he observed her, the admission making her look a little flustered. Every day it seemed they were slipping into something far more serious than they’d set out to, but the unspoken words lingered under their tongues. It wasn’t the right time to discuss. “Noted.” Thumbing over her chin, he nodded at her before tucking the tickets from the coat check into the pocket of his pants. “Come on then, Pet. Let’s have a look.” 

—-

Y/N’s eyes were wide as they took in the vast room around her. 

Holy fuck. Harry hadn’t been kidding about it shocking her system. 

His hand held the back of her neck as she was guided towards the bar, where she was warned didn’t sell any actual alcohol for safety reasons. It matched and exceeded her expectations upon first glance. 

The stage was set up with some sort of bench, but it was obvious they’d come before the show had begun. People milled about, laughing and talking as if nothing abnormal was happening- like the woman in her all spandex dress chatting to the bartender, drink in one hand and chain in the other. Connected to the other end of the chain was a man on his knees for her, leather mask covering everything but his eyes and mouth. Not far from her in a booth across the way, a man had a woman on his lap with his hand down her top, playing with her tits and keeping a conversation. 

It wasn’t extreme, no, but it had her a bit spooked. Even more so when she looked to the side and saw a girl on her knees and her face buried under another woman’s dress. So he hadn’t been kidding- it really did happen anywhere. 

Heat flushed over her chest as she averted her gaze, blinking rapidly as she tried to calm her heart. It wasn’t a bad thing, she didn’t think, because she could feel herself becoming excited. Just a walk through and she was warm in her tummy, feeling that anticipation climbing all the way up her throat. She had to wonder what Harry was going to surprise her with tonight. 

“Alright?” He mumbled, turning to face her as they approached the bar. The promise of a sweet, sugary mocktail had been enticing but now her curiosity was wanting to take over. “It’s not too bad, is it?”

“No, Sir.” She shook her head, meeting his eyes. The hand on the back of her neck gave a subtle squeeze, pulling her a little closer. “It’s… I’m curious to see what else goes on, but I think it’s interesting.”

“A lot of things are happening in the rooms. The main stage show isn’t anything too extreme, but the rooms are different theaters on this level, and playrooms on the top level.” The split level was apparent to her now, reminding her a bit of a hotel lobby she’d stayed at once on holiday. Rooms surrounding the top with a walkway that looked down while the bottom was an open concept until it split into four hallways. The place was truly beautiful, albeit a bit intimidating. “What did you want to drink?” 

Y/N looked over the menu with curious eyes, smiling lightly when she saw someone had made a plethora of fruity and sweet concoctions modeled after bubblegum, blue raspberry, cherry, all sorts of stuff. There were more tame things, pina colada and mint julep, but considering she was experimenting tonight she chose something she normally wouldn’t. “Can I have the cotton candy one, Sir?” 

“You may, yes.” The subtle correction had her face flushing for a moment, but she could see he was teasing a little from the dimple threatening to break on his face. God, he was so gorgeous.

It was always apparent that Harry was handsome, but seeing him like this was a whole different experience. His shoulders were bigger, back straighter, a more controlled and poised version of him was at the helm. Was this his best self? Being a dominant, taking and guiding her? He’d said multiple times he liked taking care of people, liked being in charge, so it must feel really good to have her eyes on him at all times. 

When she’d brought up that she’d read a lot about people in her books had dominants that preferred them to avert their eyes, but he’d scoffed at it. In opposition, he’d told her to keep her eyes on him at most times. Joked about it soothing a bit of his ego, but she wasn’t sure how much of it was really a joke at this point. Either way, there would be no complaints about that when the man looked as good as him. Sharp jaw and nose, dark lips, eyelashes that pissed her off because they were so pretty… The man had a way about him that reminded her of classical art. 

When the bartender came over he was greeted with a smile, which he reciprocated with a small one of his own before ordering her the drink she wanted and himself some sort of iced tea thing. She had no clue, considering she was a little busy zoning out. His hand had started to subtly massage the back of her neck and her eyes had glazed over a bit, being pressed into his side making the scent of him increasingly soothing. Perhaps he was doing it for that exact reason, but that was why he was in charge. He knew what to do to calm her nerves. 

As soon as the bartender walked away, he turned back towards her. “And how are you feeling?” Eyes dipping over her body, Y/N swallowed as she knew exactly what he was talking about- and why he looked so damn smug. 

He’d helped her put a plug in before they left. The smallest one, but it had still worked her up a significant amount. There had been something weirdly erotic knowing that he would know why she was shifting around. Trying anal for the first time the night prior had been a mind meltingly good experience, making her even more eager to try new things. It had always been a fantasy of hers, but she hadn’t realized just how good it would feel. How full and connected she would be with it- but again, that was possibly just a Harry thing. He had made the simplest thing far more pleasurable. 

“Good.” She nodded, watching his eyes linger on her breasts. He’d spent time after their sex last night kissing on them in appreciation, letting his lips hover over the marks before he lotioned over her body. Physical touch had to be his top love language, she had deduced. “I, um… It feels weird when I walk. But not bad, Sir.”

“Mmm, I know. You’re walking a bit differently, but you’ll grow used to it. Even more so, I think you’re going to learn to love it.” Adjusting the strap that seemed to be slipping down her shoulder continuously, he let his touch linger. “You’re going to be my good girl and let everyone see how perfect you are, aren’t you?” The tone of his voice dropped into a deeper one, her body reacting to it as she leaned into his touch. “I can’t decide if I want you perched on my lap all night, or if I want you on your knees in front of me.” Clicking his tongue, he shook his head. “Decisions, decisions.”

“Whatever you’d like me to do, Sir.” She replied, though there was no true preference. Y/N was aiming to please tonight, subconsciously feeling the pressure to prove she could be a good submissive for him. 

“Oh, I know, pet. You don’t have a choice in that.” He laughed under his breath. “Precious girl. Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll tell you to sit and speak like my good Pup, alright? You just stick to me.” 

Y/N a few months ago would probably try to fight his words and the condescending tone because that was what was expected of her. Y/N a few months ago would ignore her body when it reacted to those words. Y/N now, though, let her eyes widen and simply agreed, because deep down that’s what she’s been wanting to do. 

When the drinks arrived, her eyes widened at how pretty it was. A soft pink with some sort of glittery shimmer in the drink, the movement of the liquid catching the light. It was by far the most beautiful drink she’d ever seen in her life, and she didn’t want to waste a drop. Holding it in her hand, she let Harry wrap up with the bartender before turning back to her with a new look on his face. “C’mon, it’s time t’say hi to some people. Best behavior.” With a slight pinch to her chin, he led her off.

Harry’s familiarity was evident in how easily he navigated the club. Winding through people with polite nods and greetings, he radiated the now familiar air of power. It was a little different here, though. While he always held the power in the bedroom, there was something that had snapped on his face when they walked in the room that had her ever curious about his past experiences here. Experiences she wouldn’t ask about for her own sake of delicate feelings, but things that he must have done, said, experienced in this secret cove of underground pleasures. 

Yes, it was a bit whips and chains-y, but there was a classy layer to it that she liked here. The weird feeling of belonging settled in her gut as his hand squeezed the back of her neck, keeping her close as they approached a slightly elevated section. Her mind was going a million miles a minute, taking in every bare tit, every collar, every hand wrapped in hair and laugh in the room as he led her up towards their destination that she had almost missed it completely.

Thankfully she caught herself as Harry gently urged them to a stop right in front of a booth full of people. Semi circular, the tabletop was a bit far from the booth itself- but it was clear why as she looked down at the people. 

There were two people on their knees of their perspective dominants. A brunette with her cheek resting on a blonde woman’s knee, fingers brushing through her dark hair and sparkling nails catching the light as she did so had particularly caught her eye. Instead of a tight outfit like the domme at the bar, she had on a powersuit. Her eyes didn’t look down towards her submissive though giving her physical attention, sharp hazel eyes looking over Y/N like a examination. 

“Isn’t she delicious, Styles?” She purred, cat like grin painting her red lips. “Who is she? I know you’ve been gone for a bit… is she why?” The woman seemed pleased at the prospect of Harry having a new submissive, even if she looked at her like she could eat her for lunch. Her face felt hot as she looked up at Harry, the ghost of a smirk on his face. 

“She is.” The confirmation had the people at the table grinning which caught her a bit off guard. They didn’t know she was temporary and he seemed in no rush to tell them- and neither was she. Maybe they could play pretend here, like she was really his and he wanted to keep her for good. The first of many times they’d come together for as long as they felt so inclined. “This is Y/N. She’s been a wonderful little pet for me. My favorite.” A hand fondly ran over her hair, a little smile on his lips now as he was happy to show her off. “She’s a little new to this, but very eager to learn. So tread lightly, yeah?” 

For some reason the information being told didn’t offend her. Maybe if someone else here seemed like it was funny to them, if they’d scoffed, did anything but look understanding she would feel that shame, but they didn’t. They simply nodded, letting Harry slip into the end of the booth. “On my lap for now, Pet.” He patted his thigh, holding his ringed hand out for her to take.

Y/N could feel eyes on her as she nodded, a quiet ‘yes sir’ leaving her lips as she was adjusted over his lap, legs over his thighs as he wound his arm around her waist to keep her body steady. “Say hello.” The words weren’t disguised as a request. It was clearly an order. Why did she find it so hot? 

“Hello. It’s nice to meet you all.” She peeped, leaning into Harry’s touch as he gave her a squeeze of reassurance. It was pretty clear on who was a dominant at the table, versus the submissive. Two were on their knees, two sitting under their dominant’s arms, and one in a similar position to Y/N. 

“Is it your first time here?” A man asked this time. His voice was softer spoken but there was an edge to him that screamed that he was in charge. It was a little similar to Harry in which he looked kind, but anyone with sense would know not to question their particular brand of authority. 

“It is, yes. H-Sir was helping me adjust before I came here. He is the best teacher.” Throwing in a bit of praise for the dominant had the desired affect, lips brushing her cheek in a chaste kiss. 

“What are your thoughts? It’s intimidating, isn’t it?” The woman from before asked curiously, though the hungry spark didn’t leave her eye until Harry spoke to her. 

“I’m not sharing her, Cara.” He said lowly, his hold tightening on her. “She’s not on the menu. Look but don’t touch.” There was a slight edge to his voice though it wasn’t hostile quite yet. Secretly, Y/N let herself preen over the possessive nature being shone through. Knowing he had no desire to let anyone else have a taste of her was beyond comforting- which, she knew was entirely ironic considering the context in which they met.

“Oh, boo.” She sighed. “You’re very beautiful. Harry’s not fond of sharing his chips either so I should have known, but there’s no harm in trying.” The demeanor shifted slightly to something lighter. “My girl likes to have playmates sometimes, but we’re a little picky.” 

Y/N could only imagine. If Harry expressed desire to add someone in for a scene she wouldn’t be too fond of letting just anyone in… but then again, she didn’t want to share in at all in the first place. It wasn’t a closed minded thing, more so the idea of someone else taking his attention away from her making her stomach ache. 

“It’s good to be picky.” Harry nodded. “But my girl isn’t up for shared scenes. I don’t think I’ll ever want to share her.” Fingers brushed over her cheek, still cool from his drink. “I don’t think anyone can blame me for being selfish with a beauty like this.” 

Heat flooded her body, a shy smile on her lips as she looked at him and watched his eyes darken. His pupils dilate. There was no question in her mind that there was truth to his words in this way she had just witnessed them, but it still felt unreal. “You wouldn’t want to share me either, would you?” The words had been softened just for her consumption, the moment being looked over by the others who began talking amongst themselves. For them, though, they were in their own little bubble. 

“No, sir.” The whisper matched his own volume, but the answer made him pleased. She could tell by the look on his face, lightening her own mood just by that alone. Y/N never knew how much she would truly enjoy this sort of thing, never understood how much Harry would change her life, but she was here now and it felt far more intense than one could imagine. 

“Then we’re settled, yeah? They can watch us, but m’not gonna let them touch you. Nor me.” The addition made her giggle, though it was cut off when he caught her lips in a soft kiss. Gentle pressings over her mouth, she counted three before he pulled back and rubbed over her chin. A wistful look followed, his eyes full of contemplation as he looked her over. Back and forth, his thumb swiped the remnants of the kiss before he let himself out of the mindset, leaning back into the booth. “Since you’ve had your greetings, I want you on your knees for me.” Reaching behind him he got a little cushion, dropping it on the floor. Spreading his legs out, he motioned for her to get between them. At least he was thoughtful with her poor knees. 

Y/N was weirdly excited for it. Slowly sinking down and settling with her heels touching her bum, she looked up at him expectantly as he watched her get settled in her new position. It felt… right, being here. Like this. Looking up at him as he spread his legs and looked down at her with a practiced patience on his face. “Sit quietly like a good girl. We’re going to go watch that show in a room in 20 minutes. If you can behave here, I’ll make sure you cum tonight.” 

Y/N knew what he meant. Not to provoke him and get him hard. As much as she wanted to do that, wanted to mouth at his cock and be a brat so he’d force it in her mouth,’or her over his lap to redden her ass, she wasn’t quite that brave yet. Tonight was to prove she could be a good girl for him, the best she could be. Maybe if she was good enough, he’d tell her that he was keeping her. 

Listening to his order, she rested her cheek on his thigh and closed her eyes as she found herself in the situation the other woman had been when they’d arrived at the table. His fingers sprawled through her hair as he talked quietly amongst friends, twirling tendrils between his digits as he got to the ends of it. Every so often the submissive could feel his eyes look down at her, which had her opening her eyes and smiling up at him. The pleased expression he had each and every time had her wondering if he knew what went through her mind. 

If he told her to break up with Danny? She probably would. If he confessed that he had feelings for her, that he wanted her as his real partner, submissive or not, she would release herself from the other relationship she was having major doubts about anyways and go to him. Belong to him seriously.

Even being on her goddamn knees in front of him at a kink club, she felt more appreciated than she ever had. Even when he called her a dirty bitch, a nasty whore, a cockslut, she felt more worshiped and heard and ultimately cared for than she ever had. Harry listened to her. There was never a singular time since they’d started this arrangement that he hadn’t thought about her wants or safety in great detail. He hand fed her fruit he sliced by hand after scenes, brought up juice to her mouth and whispered to her to have sips after he was finished ruining her body. He broke her apart, yeah, but he built her back up again. Even better than he had first found her, if she was being honest. 

Never in her life has she felt as heard, scene, and adored as she did when Harry gave her aftercare. When he texted her through the week to make sure she had a good day. When he asked her her favorite color the first day they met and made sure she had light pink straws in her drinks each and every time. Harry paid attention to her. Not just in scenes, where he seemed to pick apart her every reaction and know just how much she could handle, but last night too. He could feel her upset, did what he could to fix it. Proved yet again that he was the better option of the two.

What was stopping her? 

Fear. Not of Harry, not of Danny, but fear of losing this feeling. She’d end up alone again, wistful for this exact scenario where she knew she couldn’t get it again. No one else would be able to make her feel the way Harry felt in her body and her mind and that was fucking terrifying. Admitting that only to potentially be rejected was worse than staying in a bad relationship. Maybe she was a coward- she knew she was- but she needed his promise. His words. Too many times in her life she had been let down, let her heart hurt and chip and bruise. A rejection from him would shatter her heart and all the work she had put into mending it and the wall she had tried to build up to make her softness toughen up a bit would be inconceivably damaged. 

Times like tonight, meeting his eye and watching him tuck her hair behind her ear as she rubbed her face against his knee, she swore she could see the golden flecks of longing in his eyes too. When they were in bed after their scenes and his arms wrapped around her so he could haul her back into his body, she could feel inklings of something more under her skin. Even when he’d greeted her last night with a kiss in his driveway, a kiss she knew would lead to nothing sexual and just a genuine token of affection, she had felt that something was more with him. And yet she was frozen with fear every time she went to ask him how he felt about her. Terrified that he would reject her and their entire dynamic would be screwed. 

Little did she know, he had the same dilemma.

Watching her nuzzled into him, sitting so fucking perfect and pretty and meeting his eye with those gorgeous fucking smiles, she looked so content with him. Like she was made to be in this exact scenario. He’d never felt more proud of having someone on his arm, and yet she wasn’t actually his. He just wasn’t sure how much longer he could last without spilling those feelings towards her.

His holdback was the fact that she was the one in a relationship. She’d tried to mend things with Danny, but part of his confusion was knowing if she did it because she wanted to or if he had stupidly pushed that by trying to do the right thing about it when she expressed her resentment towards him. All he wanted to do was make the girl happy. It was only a few months of knowing her. He shouldn’t feel this much, so soon. 

Realistically he knew that it was likely because they shared such intimate parts of themselves with one another. This dynamic, lived in even if only on the weekends, was intense and serious and Y/N leaned into every bit of it with an eagerness only matching her nicknames sake. A puppy. So fucking sweet, she’d roll over and show belly if he asked her to right now, but instead she was content with her face on his leg and his hand in her hair. 

His mind wandered to what it could be like if she left the other man. If she walked away and went into his arms, let him show her how he could treat her so much better. What she didn’t know as well was he was still holding back a bit. Emotionally, more so.  

His heart felt like it was in his throat when he grazed his fingers past her cheek, watching her lashes lift off her cheek so she could give him her eyes. “You’re bein’ perfect for me, Pet.” He murmured, watching as she preened. His words always seemed to have a significant effect on her but the girl was slipping into a more submissive state with him here. It was his job to take care of her, to show her the things she’d been missing out on and desperate to experience. “Are you ready to go and watch?” 

“Yes, Sir.” She lifted her cheek from his knee and angled her head back, allowing him to tap his fingers over her chin and get a smile from her. Everything felt more loaded than they could talk about right now, but she was doing exactly what she needed to do. Falling into line so perfectly that Harry really didn’t have much he needed to correct. Pride filled his chest as he let himself smile back at her, nudging her to stand up. 

“Lets go then. Stay with me.”

—-

Y/N wasn’t sure what she expected in this scenario, but she knew there was nothing that would be realistic in her mind that could have prepared her for this night. Walking into the room where the scene had already begun, Harry held the back of her neck and led her towards a loveseat in the back. The throple on stage weren't paying anyone much mind, the room half full as the sounds of a masculine groan filled the air. The stage was lit with two doms and a sub, all beautiful in their own right. 

She stayed quiet as she waited for directions from Harry, eyes on him as he settled himself on the seat. He didn’t speak, instead grabbing her waist and turning her around to sit on his lap. Back against his chest, he spread his legs and hooked one each of her thighs over his own to sprawl her out. The position left her rather exposed too, but the thrill of it caught in her chest as she felt the thick of his cock against her ass and his arm wrapping around her waist. 

“Look at them.” He mumbled, keeping his tone quiet. “Watch.” With his chin against her shoulder, he slid his fingers over her thighs. Up and down, the touch slightly distracted her from the performance going on up the stage. It was becoming very apparent that her devotion to the Dominant was deeper rooted than she’d thought. All this time she’d been anticipating this, but all she could do was think about him and his hands on her. 

“How does it make you feel?” His lips grazed the shell of her ear as he looked towards the show himself. “They make a nice little show, don’t they? Is that something you’ve thought of?” In front of the girl on her knees stood the Domme and other Dominant. The Domme’s hands held a leather leash connected to the collar of the girl, wrapped around her fist as the other hand gripped the submissive’s ponytail to bob her head on the man’s cock. Y/N did her best to pay attention to the performance in front of her, the wet heat between her thighs getting more intense as his fingertips brushed up and down the exposed, vulnerable flesh of her inner thigh. Images of it being them flooded her brain, the barriers breaking as his lips nestled right underneath her ear, puckering just so. 

In her vision, there would be no Domme. The scene would include just him and her, his hand wrapped around the leash tight as a show of ownership. Her collar would be prettier, something more suited to her personally. Maybe a pink leather or more of a chain with a heart charm like she’d seen on one of the other subs at the table, but it would be one he picked out special for her. His fist would have her locks wrapped around it like a secondary leash, using her mouth and showing off just how much she could take. Ideally, it would be after she trained a bit more to take him deeper. She loved the idea of people being able to watch her, to see her take him down her throat. Being able to see how well Harry handled her, how she listened to him, the dynamic between them. Maybe at some point she’d be able to be a bit more bratty and get punished for it- having him fuck her throat as a punishment, or use his hand against her ass. 

“Hm? I asked you a question. Answer me.” He muttered, nipping the delicate skin of her neck. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head. Can almost hear it from here.” 

Y/N swallowed, leaning further back into him as she tried to unfurl her tongue to tell him. “I-I like it. I’m thinking about us up there, Sir.” Keeping her voice quiet to be respectful to the throuple, she tried to be loud enough for him to hear. It was hard with how shaky her voice felt, his fingers trailing over the edge of her humid panties. It was hard to think straight with him touching her, his scent all over and his mouth on her neck and the sound of the praises from the Domme, the submissive choking slightly on the Dominant’s cock. 

“You are?” He sounded intrigued. “Hm. I think you’d look pretty up there. What part of it is making your poor cunt wet like this?” Fingers tapped against the damp gusset of her panties, teasing with the light touch. It wasn’t enough to make her feel much relief, but the knowledge his hand was there was enough to make her swallow back a whimper. “I know you love my attention, but I’m starting to think you’re a bit more of an attention whore than I thought.” 

The light degrading made her dizzy, the arm around her waist lifting to grip her throat lightly. “Keep talking, Puppy. Quietly.” 

It was hard to keep talking but she tried her best. It was a little unnerving to realize just how much mental power he had over her, but she knew she was safe. Maybe she felt a little pathetic that such light touches had her in a tizzy, but this whole night had been edging, hadn’t it? This was the main event, watching people indulge in the taboo pleasures like it was a theater show while her own Dominant teased her over her panties. “I-I like that she has the collar n’stuff, and people are watching her choke on it.” She whispered out, breathing getting a little harder as he nudged her clit lightly with his thumb. Rhythmic back and forth, just a tiny hint of his touch but it was enough to make her want to buck into it. Harry was making her feel insane, but the entire thing was playing into it. 

Watching them on the stage, knowing other people were around that could see her being spread open and touched like this, the way Harry was hard under her ass, it all had her tummy hot and head fuzzy. “And I like that they’re bein’ a little mean to her. Makin’ fun of her, Sir.” Her tongue felt a bit too big for her mouth as she admitted to those things. The condescending teasing of the Domme to the Submissive each time she failed to take the full length down her throat had sent a zing to her cunt, imagining Harry calling her those names and giving the mean encouragement to get her to do her very best in front of all the other people. 

“Christ, you’re a whore.” Harry laughed incredulously into her neck. “You want to be degraded like that in front of other people? Because… I know for a fact you can’t take all of my dick into that throat. S’a bit too big and as cockhungry as you are, I think you’d be a little embarrassed about not being able to do what you should be able to.” The twinge of shame melted into arousal, his thumb nudging her clit a little harder. Was it a reward?  She didn’t know, but she didn’t want it to stop.“As for the collar…” Fingers uncurled from her waist , moving up to collar her throat. “I think a better one would be better suited for such a slutty puppy. Jus’ didn’t realize you needed to be leashed too.” 

His smallest finger went underneath the necklace that served as a collar for the night, tugging lightly at it. “You’d need to belong t’me properly for that. I don’t collar up just anyone, baby. Is that something you really want?” It was probably not the correct time to dip his toes into the question of a more serious arrangement, but he wanted to hear her answer. 

“Uh-huh. I want it so bad, Daddy. I can be so good for it, I’d love it.” Her whine was a little too loud, a coo leaving his lips as he lightly applied pressure at the sides of her throat to shut her up. The answer, the fucking eagerness of it had his cock twitching against her ass and his heart pumping a bit harder. Maybe it was just a heat of the moment thing, but the vulnerability of the moment had him doubting it was some sort of illusion. 

“Mm. We can discuss that when you’re not so worked up and soaking the pretty panties I got you. You need to keep your voice down, be respectful.” The warning was twofold. He had to table that conversion or he’d get his hopes up far too soon. The slip up of honorifics, though, had been intriguing. “I’m Daddy right now, hm?” 

“Mhm.” She attempted to nod as his fingers lightened their pressure. “Touch me, please. I’m achy.” Squirming slightly in his arms, another squeeze to her throat had her freezing in place before his other hand decided to ease down the waistband of her panties. 

“I don’t know how I feel about you making demands, Pet, but you’re making quite a fucking mess.” His voice dropped, feeling her pulse in his fingertips. “God, you’re gonna cum so fuckin’ quickly. I can feel it.” Y/N was drenched, his thumb finding her slippery clit to rub in light circles. “It’s a little too much for your filthy whore mind, isn’t it? Sitting at my knees, acting like the perfect little submissive for me… Seeing all those pretty people playing, dressed up so nice. And now Daddy’s brought you to a nice little show. You paying attention?” He urged her attention towards the show. “He’s gonna cum on her face, just like I’ve been dying t’do. Or are you more aroused at the knowledge that anyone can look over and see your pussy being pet like a desperate slut?”

Yes, yes, yes. All of the above, check all the boxes. Y/N would beg more if she could find it in her brain to talk, but it felt so good. The light grip at her throat making it slightly harder to breathe, how he was talking hushed into her ear and the vibrations made her feel even more squirmy, his fingers on her cunt, she just felt like she was dreaming. Like this was some sort of high before the ultimate one, looking to the side and catching a few eyes on her. She’d made a tiny bit of noise before, surely making people aware that she wasn’t behaving, but it felt all too real now. 

“And now you’ve gone dumb for me. I need an answer from you, Angel. Need a color before I make you cum.” He nudged her face to the side, lips resting against the corner of her own. “Color?” 

“Green. I’m so good, I-I…” She panted, eyes glazed but looking into his own. They were hooded, dark, and it was obvious in all ways that he was aroused too. He showed more restraint than she did, but he wasn’t unaffected by it all. “Sir…” With little thought to consequences, her own hand came up to the back of his head and pulled him closer so she could press his lips against his. 

Harry didn’t usually kiss in the club. He didn’t like them being seen in that way most of the time, feeling that those were supposed to be shared for more private and intimate moments- but Y/N had a way of making him throw a lot of his prior rules and regulations out the window. Didn’t she? He groaned quietly, licking into her mouth, trying to ignore the hot spark of arousal in his cock her hands tugging his hair closer to her had given him. For a moment, he gave in and enjoyed the taste of her tongue and the uncoordinated mess that was their kiss. He took the moment to slip two fingers into her cunt, curling them into her slick hole to get her to gasp. Hot and tight, he held back another moan at the feeling of her cunt fluttering around the intrusion. It was one of his favorite feelings, her breathing picking up against his mouth. 

The broad hand around her throat tightened again, making her eyes peel open again. Wet mouth illuminated by the red lights around the room, he panted against her open lips. “Remember your fucking place. You want a kiss? You ask. You aren’t in charge. I am.” He growled, trying to keep his voice down as he fucked his fingers into her. “I’m the one in charge. Not you. I choose if you cum or not, I choose if you get kissed or fuck. Your body is mine to play with. You’d do well to remember that, or you’ll be the next one on that stage.” He grinned maliciously. “And I’ve got a reputation to uphold. I won’t be as nice as I’ve been before.” 

Letting up on the grip, he swallowed her gasp with another kiss. 

It was moments like this that Y/N could see it. She could see this being her life, this being her night out with him. Instead of dingy bars with sports games she didn’t give a singular fuck about, she could be here watching shows and learning, she could have Harry’s fingers deep inside of her, his cock inside of her, whatever he chose, giving her pleasure that was immeasurable to what she’d ever known before. A literal wet dream came true. 

Y/N couldn’t respond, nodding lazily as the slick sound of her cunt being fucked with his fingers slicked up by her arousal became slightly audible. The throuple on stage was the loudest sound in the room, but underneath it all she could hear exactly what he was doing to her. It was humiliating to be this wet, to be this close to orgasm from a few minutes of his fingers thrusting in and out of her, a bit of choking, his whispers against her ear, a few people peering over at them and she loved it. His hand around her throat, keeping her tight to his body, and she felt the most free she’d ever been. 

There was an attempt to warn him, his fingers prodding right at her spot and her legs beginning to tremble as she squirmed slightly on his lap, but he could tell she wouldn’t be able to be quiet. He’d have to force her to be. “Let go. Make a mess on my fingers and be fucking quiet.” The dominant let her take another deep inhale before he returned his fingers to the sides of her neck, applying pressure exactly where she needed it to steal the rest of her breath. 

Y/N could see spots in her vision as she came. If he wasn’t stopping it, she probably would have sobbed out as she shook in his arms. Cumming hard and fast, hips bucking into his hand, his words cooed softly against her ear and brought up chills against her skin as the vibrations added to the sensations that tossed her over the edge. 

“There you go, stay nice and quiet. Cum all over my fingers, you perfect fuckin’ girl.” He coaxed, pressing them against that spot over and over again whilst his thumb rubbed her throbbing clit. She could feel the contractions of her walls around him, a deep breath being taken as he eased up on her throat to make sure she recovered, but he didn’t stop his prodding. “Work through it. People just saw that, yeah? Saw how good you are, amazing and how quiet you can be. Saw how beautiful you are when you cum for me. Such a precious angel.” Little kisses were pressed to her sticky skin, her mind pleasantly fuzzy and a little empty as his words soothed the orgasm that rocked through her body. “There we go, sweet girl. Y’did perfectly. Took your reward so well, yeah? You were made for this.” His praise added another layer of warm, fluffy comfort to the pleasant feeling that coated her body, the words echoing in her brain. All she could think about was how good she had been, how good it had felt. Good, good, good. She was a good girl and Harry was proud of her. “Gonna take you home in a few, baby. Just let you get a good cuddle in first, clean you up and sneak out of here. We’ll come back and you can see our new friends again.” 

This whole thing had pleasured her. Not just the orgasm, but the entire place. Her head had felt calm since she’d settled at Harry’s feet, quickly getting over nerves and settling into that feeling of correctness. Ease. It felt like she belonged here, even with the underlying anxiety. With anyone else but Harry she wasn’t sure if she would have felt that, but it had just been another experience he had made positive for her. Of course he did. He was perfect. 

He’d walked her through it, held her hand, helped her know what to expect but- She’d known she would like this sort of thing. Y/n had always thought about it, but actually experiencing it was a whole other beast. One she wanted to experience again, and again, and again- If Harry would let her.

[ryebread0605]

Hello, if it's not a bother I would like to ask Jamil Viper with a reader like Gigi Grant, a genie who appeared in the movie 13 Monster Wishes (Monster High)

This is such a fun ask as someone who adored monster high growing up! No specification was given so I’m gonna do a mix of both smut and fluff! 

When he was sorting through the treasury, making sure nothing was stolen by some of the more sneaky dorm members, Jamil’s eyes fell upon something that made his eyes widen. A golden lamp, just like the ones in the stories of the sorcerer of the sands. It had intricate swirling details and diamonds encrusted in floral designs. Checking to make sure no one was around, he picked it up slowly and carefully. Sure, he had heard the stories of the genie growing up, but he simply thought it to be a way to downplay the insane power the sorcerer of the sands held. So, without thinking anything of it, he rubbed away a dirt spot on the lamp.

He nearly dropped it in shock as what looked to be a spirit emerged, dressed in dark red silks and adorned with golden jewelry. Your voice sounded like that of a sirens, luring him in as you spoke the words he had only heard of in legends, 

“Thank you for awakening me, master. How may I be of service to you?” The way you approached him reminded him of how he would approach Kalim, he had never expected to someday be in the position where someone else was his servant. Sure, he had long dreamed of it, but he never once imagined it would be anything more than a silly dream. 

“Sevens I’m going crazy, im hallucinating…” he just couldn’t believe this was real, although he lifted his head to the sound of your soft laughter. With a smile, you approached closer and gently took his hand in yours, looking up at him with the warmth and comfort he had never experienced before. And just like that, he understood for once what it felt like to have someone care about him. 

The first few days of having you around were… interesting… to say the least. He was still very hesitant to ask anything of you, especially anything that had to do with Kalim, but slowly overtime opened up more and more. It started small, just him asking to help him carry the clean clothes to Kalim’s room or to help sweep the lounge floors. It felt… nice. Having someone else help him made the chores more bearable and the chats you would have during them sometimes even made him smile. 

When he asked you for the first time to hug him, he was shocked by how gentle and loving it was. Not restrictive like Floyd’s or overpowering like Kalim’s, just soft and comforting. Almost like you wanted to make sure he could pull away if he wanted. But why would he want to, when it felt so natural and so right to be in your arms. That was the day he discovered how truly touch starved he was and how much your touch in particular made him feel safe. He still felt bad asking you for things, but your reassurance that your purpose was to answer to him made him feel slightly better.

(NSFW begins here please do NOT continue if you are a minor!)

As the days turned to months, he began to have a different kind of want for you. He noticed himself staring more as you did tasks and blushing anytime you smiled at him or hugged him. It took him talking to Ace of all people after a basketball game to figure out what was happening. 

He was in love.

He knew he couldn’t ever actually confess to you, but maybe he could find something else. And so, he called you into his room one night to ask you for a favor.

“You wish.. for me to do that? Are you sure master?” Your voice wasn’t one of hesitation despite your words, instead one of wanting to make sure you were hearing him correctly.

“Sevens it’s hard enough for me to even ask this.. p-please don’t make me ask again..” he covered his flushed face with one hand but quickly widened his eyes as he felt your hands on his belt.

“Very well master, I hope I can please you well.” 

He had his hand over his mouth desperate to muffle his moans as the other hand gripped his bedsheets, eyes shut in pleasure as your head bobbed up and down on his cock. Your tongue swirled along the rosewood coloured tip as saliva rolled down your chin. Looking up at him, your eyes locked with his brown ones before he gripped the back of your head and forced his cock down your throat, thick strings of cum flowing from his dick as he let out a muffled moan. Pulling your lips off with a pop, you licked your lips with a smile.

“I hope I did well, master. Maybe I can please you other ways sometime”

[penvisions]

by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 5}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Chapter Summary: Another overnight patrol, an asked favor, a miscommunication, a fleeting moment of pleasure and it all comes crumbling down. Even worse than you had anticipated, the allure of being a part of something bigger than yourself blinding you into believing it was finally within reach.

Word Count: 10.3k (!!)

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, illusions to past death, illusions to past trauma, blood, mild injuries, hurtful language, town gossip, rumors, negative feelings, pining, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, lots of feelings, angst, hurt and comfort, joel miller's hands need their own warning, intentional flirting, unintentional flirting, casual intimacy, urges to kiss joel miller get their own warning, adult content, teasing, yearning, protective joel, fluff, this is so unbelievably soft, size kink unlocked in reader, (girl, i feel you), reader is described as smaller than joel (bc c'mon), reader has a commonly used nickname but no assigned name, joel and reader pov

A/N: holy shit, i am so sorry for the mix up with the original content. i'm so emotionally drained from today that i didn't realize it wasn't the final version of the chapter that i uploaded. but it's fixed, all scenes are complete and as they should be.

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

It was your fault, you realized. As you set about searching for something you remembered seeing in the house when you had first been assigned to it and moved in with Aiden. It had been one of those things that you stared at in disbelief, startling manic, nearly hysterical laughter that had turned into tears and uneven breaths. So ridiculous to have come across it over a decade after the end of the world.

A pack of index cards.

Index cards. Who needed index cards at the end of the world, when language was all people had. Skills like writing, reading, all faded away and dormant reflexes that could be called upon if and when needed.

It hadn’t mattered if you could write, had the ability to write or read when you were running for your life from Infected and humans, crashing through the remains of what was once a town or city, crashing through snapping and unforgiving forests, crashing through unforgiving open land in the hopes that you weren’t spotted a mile away by someone trying to protect what was theirs or looking for targets.

It was your fault he had pulled away to the point of beginning his…thing with Marsha. The way you had run from him, run from what you had both shared. But it didn’t mean anything, he was...Joel was…an important part of the settlement. Integrated far better than you ever had the chance to and you would just ruin it for him. He had to understand that because he too, hadn’t tried to bring it up.

Gathering them and a few of the cookbooks you had, you settled at the kitchen table. Taking the time to flip through the recipes to find simple ones that could be adapted to the more limited means the settlement could produce. Eager to find ones that Joel wouldn’t find too challenging and would like the end result of.

Just as your pen hit the paper, a knock sounded on your door. Sighing, you set it down and made your way across the front of your home to find Tommy with a crying bundle in his hands.

“Maria left me with ‘im for the day to handle some council business and he won’t stop cryin’.” He looked like he was about to burst into tears himself, but you didn’t say as much. Knowing firsthand how draining it was to look after a newborn.

“Well, good morning to you too.” You said as the man shouldered his way past you and took up half of the couch, an old backpack swinging from his elbow.

“You said to come to you for anything we needed, and I need your help.”

“How do you know I’m not bad with babies, huh? Maybe they hate me and I’m one of those women who don’t like them?”

“But you’re not. Right?” His curls were a frizzled mess, his eyes telling of his sleepless night as they widened and regarded you almost desperately. Rocking the bundle in his arms gently, holding it close, But his arms looked angled weird, totally not in a natural hold. “Joel always said I was too anxious around Sarah when she was super little and that’s why she cried for him for hours until she tired herself out. But he’s busy workin’ on finishing up that new roof before the snow really starts to come down.”

You did know who Sarah was. It had been a rather slow and somber conversation between you and Joel one day in the middle of summer. You had only been going out on patrols with him for a few months at that point. Him and Tommy focusing on getting as much done around the town upon his return, taking longer than usual to add a newcomer to the roster.

He had asked after you, if you lived alone. You had answered yes, saying you lost everyone in the initial chaos of the outbreak. Your city too densely packed for a chance to return home, the only chance at survival had been to immediately flee. He had told you something similar, that he had lost everything but his brother in the wake of the virus. You hadn’t asked after who, but he had told you of his daughter. His biological daughter with a wet chuckle at how she was too kind for this world anyway. You had looked away from his tears, knowing even back then that he needed to speak otherwise it would eat him from the inside out. To think of her constantly and not be able to talk about her must’ve hurt just as much as losing her. Mentions of her sprinkled future conversations and you were glad he trusted you with that part of himself.

 But you weren’t sure if Tommy knew you did beyond her name as chalk on a blackboard memorial in his living room.

“I’m good with babies,” You assured the man beside you. Slipping a full bottle from the side of the pack and asked him to dap it to your wrist. You licked up the milky liquid, immediately pinpointing the issue.

“It’s too bland, a little sugar mixed in won’t do any harm. But I prefer maple since it’s got the same qualities of honey but less of the local pollen. Both will help build immunity to the blooms come spring time.” Standing up, you carefully moved the baby to rest along your front, head on your shoulder and moved into the kitchen. The cap had been unscrewed by a watching Tommy and you stirred in a bit of maple syrup that had been collected outside the gates.

The bundle in your arms was still crying, though not as high a volume as when Tommy had first entered the house. Softly hushing and cooing to try and calm him. The second you touched the bottle of sweetened milk to his little lips, he quieted down and began to sip.

“Oh, thank god.” Tommy’s head was in his hands, elbows atop his knees. You settled beside him once again, smiling over at the older man. “Olive, if this is too much, I promise-“

“It’s okay, really.” You let him rest a wide palm on your knee, his fingers caressing the bare skin there as your dress skirt allowed for them to show. His eyes wide and beseeching, making sure you were really okay before he sunk into the cushions. “I’ve made peace with it a long time ago…”

It was his fault. The thought consumed him as he inspected the planks of olive wood, having brought them into the house after the first heavy coat of frost that covered the whole town after a particularly chilly night. He recalled having woken up, shivering as he yanked on a pair of thick socks and searched through the closets in the house for a spare blanket to throw over his bed. How he wondered if you were warm enough in your own bed as he donned his boots unlaced and jacket unzipped to drape another blanket he had taken from the closet over a passed out Ellie in her little studio.

And then he had wondered what type of clothing you wore to bed. When you had answered the door in your robe, it hadn’t looked like you had anything on underneath it aside from maybe underwear and a tank top. Not enough to keep your skin from the chill that tended to seep in through the panes of the windows all around Jackson, despite the blessing of functioning heaters.

He hadn’t gone after you, his attention being called away. You had run off, too startled by being interrupted and most likely embarrassed at being caught in such an intimate moment. But…it had been such a good moment until it had been shattered.

You had shown up at his door in a long dress, the skirt flowing down to your knees, thick fabric around your legs to combat the ever-present chill in the air. There was a whicker basket, handle draped over your forearm. That paired with your worn boots and wide brimmed had had been such a lovely image to open his front door to.

It had been hard not to stare at you and you talked and guided Ellie through dinner, faint music drifting into the kitchen from the living room as he set about cleaning up after each step and setting the table. It was all so domestic and he wanted for more nights like it. Just you and him and Ellie.

Sighing, you made sure to lock the front door behind you. Apron bundled up beneath your armpit and thrown in the general direction of the laundry room door on the other side of the kitchen. Filling and setting a kettle over the stove, you stood and looked out your kitchen window for a moment, taking in the fluffy snow that had attempted to stick as the dark, moody sky brought it over the town. It was still early, the sunrise more than likely about to occur, but it hidden in the overcast.

You shifted your gaze over the counters, logging the ingredients you had on hand for a possible breakfast even if you weren’t terribly hungry at the moment. When they landed on the broken mixing spoon that had decided to crack and splinter last night under your soapy hands as you cleaned up over dinner, you moved to rummage in the hall closet. The scrape of untreated wood along the floor sent a chill up your spine as your fingers closed around what you were searching for.

The thick slab of wood is covered with an old flat sheet. It had been from a tree last year, one that had lost a main branch in the same winds that had taken a whole one from your collection.

It was beautiful. Rich in color, the grain so detailed and curling in beautiful swirls. Burl added layers and looking pretty as it was set just so in the cut. You had kept it, unable to burn it for the soil. The thought of asking Joel to make you a set of cooking utensils had been in the back of your mind for nearly the entire time he had been here. But now with the crop of cutting boards artfully crafted, you were tempted to ask him to make of those from the hefty source in your hands.

But he hadn’t offered you one, hadn’t so much as mentioned that he had begun to make more and more ever since that first one he had been ‘trying out the idea’ in Tommy’s kitchen. You were hesitant to bring it up, but with the holidays only a couple weeks away…you were curious to see his reaction to the request.

You didn’t ask anything of anyone. Not even when you first got here, had taken the time to acclimate to the way life was led here within the settlement. Community, social circles, job detail, patrol. All of it had been taken in stride, and you worked for everything in your possession. Joel did too. You admired him for it.

A few moments later, you were rapping your knuckles against the man’s front door.

Ellie comes around the side, hearing it from her separate garage. She had looked frustrated, then curious, then excited.

“Hey, Olive,” She walks up to you, noticing the wood in your hands. “The old man’s not home, he went to help out with the lil guy.”

“O-oh, okay. I’ll just come back, I guess.” But when you began to inch closer to the porch steps, she ascended them with a small smile.

“Nah, come hang with me until he gets back.” She brushed past you with a soft touch to your arm. A key slid into the lock and then you were hesitantly following her into the house. “Feel free to make some of that god awful coffee you two enjoy so much, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

You saw her dip off down the hall, the sound of her rustling through something behind an open door allowing you the privacy to make up your mind on the offer of coffee as you stood on the threshold to the kitchen. With a determined push, you set about to search for the coffee grounds and mugs. He had only two, one with a detailed owl and another more simple one. It was a plain white one that was hefty and looked like it belonged in the full hands of diner waitress. 

It transported you back to late nights and early mornings surrounded by ruckus laughter and inside jokes, the scent of pancakes and bacon cooking on a flattop and the jingle of a bell to signal overflowing plates were ready to be dug into.

“What’s that in the cloth?” Ellie’s curiosity piqued by the bundle you had set down atop the kitchen table, her long thin fingers slowly unwrapping it. With a nod from you, she did so completely. Her eyebrows shot up, thoughts swirling behind her keen eyes. They flicked to the back room just on the other side of the kitchen wall. Her bottom lip was taken between her teeth and she looked like she was trying not to laugh.

“I know it’s silly, but…” You couldn’t help but feel nervous admitting it out loud, that you wanted to ask Joel to take some of his sparse free time for a personal project. You poured yourself a steaming cup of the finished coffee, searching for the sugar cannister. “This has been drying for nearly a year and I was gonna ask Joel-“

“Gonna ask Joel what?” His voice sounded from the doorway into the kitchen, startling you both. You rushed to put yourself between him and the table, a poor attempt to hide the plank of wood from his curious eyes. He looked tired, no doubt having been up more than resting all last night if he had been over at Tommy and Maria’s.

Taking that as her queue to leave, Ellie bolted out the back door with a hollered goodbye.

“Oh, um. Hi,” You waved slightly at him, unsure of how he would take to coming home to his house and finding you in his kitchen. Even if Ellie had said it would be okay. You were nervous, knowing that asking for something was a tricky thing. Even if he was so willing to give to others; his time, his attention, his skills. “I ha-have this.”

Moving out of the way as he crept closer on heavy feet, you allowed him to see the olive wood you had hauled over here.

“I-I was wondering i-if you’d be able to make a set of cooking utensils out of this? But I understand if you’re too busy, or don’t want to work with the dense wood, or don’t have the time-“

"Of course, sweetheart. I’ll try my best for you." And just like that he melted all your worries away and a smile pulled at your lips.

He easily moved the chunk of wood from the kitchen to his workspace. The muscles of his arms bulging beneath his flannel, the muscles of his shoulders straining at the fabric over his broad shoulders. All for your viewing pleasure as you followed behind him. The room was smaller than you expected, on his ground floor, just down the hall from the kitchen. But it was such a reflection on who he was.

The main desk had a comfortable looking chair, thick cushion on the seat. Atop it was an open book, propped up on a few stacked behind it and open to a stunning photograph of a deer. In the center was a partially carved figurine of the deer in the photo, shavings around it and tools lined up in a half circle around the back of it.

“How many pieces did you want?” He carefully bent his knees and lowered the wood to the ground, atop a tarp that several long pieces of lumber were set on and leaning against the wall. Blocks of wood beside them and lined up against the wall almost like bricks.

“Oh, um, just however many you can manage.” The crack of his knees as he straightened worried you, but it happened to you more and more so you understood it wasn’t really painful so much as uncomfortable most of the time. 

"The cutting boards all around town...” Trailing off as a familiar scent caught your attention through the general smell of lumber, you moved toward the pile of wooden planks lined up along the wall like books atop a work table. There were many shades and types of wood, all different steps of being sanded down or stained, shavings nestled in a waste bucket beneath. Tools scattered over the surface and small cannisters of sealant and paint stacked neatly beside them. Two of the planks of wood were light, ashy and your attention honed in on them as you moved toward the table. “It was kinda my idea and I was wondering if-"

"Sweetheart, I can't make you one." You startled at the boom of his voice so close, blocking your view from the stack of them as he moved to stand in front of you. The hand that had been reaching out with the intention of caressing them fell back to your side.

"Oh, um, okay." You cast your eyes down, taking in the worn leather of his boots. Of yours. There were so many of them, easily two handfuls and yet he wasn’t willing to share one with you. But everyone else around town seemed to be worthy and you couldn’t help but wonder why you weren’t. You were friends, he had said it himself. But then…but then you had kissed him and fled.

No question as to why flowed from you. You were used to not being included, but you had to admit that it stung coming from him. In an attempt to mask it you tried to smile but you weren’t sure if it actually showed. Your chest ached, body feeling like it wasn’t yours. Like you were looking down on it as it stood in that workspace with the man who sought solace within it. Like you had intruded, and shame bubbled up for having made yourself comfortable where you shouldn’t have.

"Can't find a sealant that would hold up to those knives we found. You'd just cause damage to it."

"Okay, but-“ You tried to backtrack, to apologize for being so curious.

"No, Olive. I don't have one for you, so please quit askin'."

You didn’t say anything, your voice stuck in your throat. Turning and walking away from him without looking up, afraid to see his expression. You faintly heard his voice calling after you, but you ignored it, it was far away. It was as if you were down in a tunnel, like you had tipped over and fell down into one the second Joel had turned you down.

You wanted to move past it, to gloss over it, to stay and enjoy in the time he had been willing to give you on his one day free from responsibilities. But you couldn’t, your chest felt like it had caved in, like you were hollow, like you would never be able to break into the social graces of the settlement. Marked with the death of someone who had, someone who kept messing up and making it easy for people to turn you away.

He thinks about how hurt you looked when he tried to ward you off from the stack of cutting boards he had practiced designs on and different shapes. berating himself for being so harsh when he had been scared you would see the wood he had taken from you without your knowledge. You had been reaching for the planks made from it, drawn to them as if they were magnetized.

The way in which you had shut down, his soothing words after denying you falling on deaf ears as you turned and simply walked away from him. He had been under the impression you wanted to spend the day with him. You had been an unexpected guest but not an unwelcome one. It had been nice to return to his home to find you there, comfortable enough to have put on a pot of coffee and the errant scent of that woodsy, floral perfume that seemed to be a part of your skin from tending to the trees in your yard.

But you had just turned and walked away.

He watched you go, not liking the way you had shrunk into yourself at his denial. He had tried to be soft with it, you couldn’t know that you had been asking after the one thing he wanted to keep a secret from you. That you had given him the idea and he was practicing and making so many different prototypes all to ensure that when it came time to craft yours, that he would be able to do so easily.

He scrubbed a hand roughly over his face, sighing out as he dressed for patrol. His alarm had gone off an hour ago but he had already been awake, sleep evading him as the moment from the other day played in his mind’s eye over and over again.

Settling on the musty cushions beside you, the memory of the last time he had done so puffed up along with a cloud of dust. It had been a long day. Clearing the village and finding a place to hole up in for the night.

“I’ll take the first watch, try ‘n get some rest.” He murmured low, taking in the way you were already curling your legs up underneath your body on the other end of the couch. The scarf around your neck pulled up for you to bury your face into it, hands in their gloves and secure in the pockets of your coat.

You didn’t think you even responded, the cold of the day draining you and making sleep too alluring a respite even with the broad man beside you and all alone for the first time in a while.

Bird calls woke you up hours later, signaling the start of a new day. The warmth of sleeping was a lull to the chill you knew awaited outside, but you pressed into the bed further, burrowing even more into the lump of blankets you tended to scrunch up beside you.

But the lump shifted and your eyes flew open to find a different setting than you dark bedroom. You weren’t asleep in your bed, you were sunk into a decrepit couch and pressed into Joel’s right side, having sought out his warmth in the cold house. He was asleep too, his eyes closed despite his body still seated up with his feet resting on the ground.

You couldn’t help but rest your cheek on his shoulder, taking comfort in how close and warm he was, even if it had been an instinctual move to begin with.

He was so handsome. Beautiful. From the scar across the bridge of his nose, the one at his temple, to the freckles that littered his tan skin. Wrinkles relaxed as he slept, his plush lips parted slightly. His body sunk into the fabric where he had settled last night, long and lean. His mass so large you had shifted in your sleep to press up against him, partially on him to share the small couch and steal his warmth. His neck bent back a little as his head lulled onto the back cushions.

Your eyes roved down the strong column of his neck, catching on the way his adam’s apple jutted out and you resisted the urge to lean in and nip at it.

His hands, dear god, his hands. They were slack in his lap, his entire body completely lax as he slept slumped beside you. Veins and freckles decorated the skin, mind running with the idea of them tight around different parts of your body. How they would feel wrapped around your hips, your breasts, your neck…

You couldn’t help but reach out and lay a hand atop one of his, your palm over the back of his. Your stomach fluttered, the heat settling low. Your own hand looked so small, atop his. The difference so startling.

“Mm, good mornin’,” Joel’s gravelly rumble made you jump, realizing you had gripped two of his fingers in your hand. He jostled the hand in your grip and you felt heat flood your cheeks at being caught touching him. When you moved to take it back, he curled his fingers, catching your hand and pulling it up to his lips where he pressed his lips to the back of it. “Don’t act all shy now, sweetheart.”

You throb.

The gusset of your underwear suddenly dampens as you clench around nothing.

“I-I don’t know what came over me, you were sleeping and I shouldn’t ha-have-“ Trying to tamp down your less than friendly thoughts, the allure you felt wash over you at his sleepy timbre, to backtrack away from what could end up being another thing to have him avoiding you around the settlement.

But he surprised you, emboldened by the hazy thoughts displayed in the parting of your own lips, the heat he could feel rolling off of you, the pressure you tried to relieve between your legs with a clench of your thighs together. And then his thick, sleep coated words turned sultry, pitched low and velvet.

“Thinkin’ about my hands on ya, huh? Sweet little thing, what was it?” He guided your hand to cup his cheek and then rest against his neck. “Thinkin’ about my hands here?”

When he squeezed your hand around it, you felt faint for the way your blood was rushing and thundering loud in your ears.

“N- no.” You swallowed, voice breathy and pitched low as you struggled to find words.

“No? What about…” He moved your hand to his chest, right in the middle of his ribcage. His heart was thundering beneath the flannel, mirroring your own. “Here?”

Your breath hitched as he moved it further, not giving you the chance to answer this time. Down ,down, down past the hem of his shirt beneath his jacket to the denim of his jeans. Pressing your palm down atop the zipper, you could feel the long line of him, hot and semi-hard. It twitched at the pressure, and you couldn’t help the whimper that fell from your lips. Eyes having been dragged down along with your clasped hands.

“What about here?” His lips grazed the shell of your ear as his question was pressed close, nose brushing sensitive skin just behind it. Mustache and beard lightly scraping against you, causing you to shiver and press down your hand more firmly. He groaned out, the sound burrowing deep into you. He twitched again beneath your palm and all the air in your lungs whooshed out.

And then he was dipping his head to capture your lips in a hard kiss. His tongue trailed over the seam of your lips, and you let him in without a thought. Pleasure flared from the heat that had taken hold of your entire body, the air crackling with the need for him to be closer, to be pressed to you completely, pressed inside of you completely. Body buzzing, needing more more more from him you shift to cup his cheek with your other hand.

When he speaks next, his voice is all soft. Southern twang breathy and so close as his lips graze yours, his forehead pressed to your own. The press of hot skin only a prelude to what you hoped was more…

“Sweetheart, I-“

The sudden creak of the back door opening cut the tension of the room and your stomach filled with dread. Joel’s hands became almost painful on you as both your heads whipped around to stare at the kitchen threshold, waiting with bated breath for the intruding source to walk through it.

He was up off the couch in a second, his handgun in his palm and he stalked silently toward the kitchen, leaving you on the couch to reach for your own. But your attention was pulled to the front door of the house just as he disappeared through the threshold.

Two shadows crept into the house and your ducked down to avoid being seen immediately.

There were sounds of a scuffle in the kitchen and you took the opportunity to sneak around the couch in a crouch and stand with the gun trained on the larger figure of the two just on the other side of it.

“Drop your gun or I shoot.” You kicked his legs apart, hand patting him down as he listened to your command. He didn’t have any other weapons on him and the woman a few feet away didn’t visibly have any, her clothing tight around her middle, large jacket draping over her to keep her swollen middle warm.

You took your eyes off of her for one second to kick the gun away and behind you when she lunged. A shiny piece of something glinted in her hand and you shouted out as it cut across your own middle.

Grunting, you elbowed the man in the ribs, winding him and sending him to crumple to the ground in pain. You kicked out and wrapped your foot around one of the woman’s legs and tugged her close, ignoring the sensation of that same piece of whatever it was in her grip as it tore into your jacket sleeve.

You smacked her hand against the wall behind her, being mindful of her stomach and was about to wrap your hands around her neck when the man wheezed out a pleading cry.

“Don’t hurt her, please!” He tired to catch is breath, but you didn’t break your focus away from the woman you had pinned down. A wave of nausea rose over you, the only indication before you collapsed, blood soaking the front of your shirt in a dark, wet patch.

“Shit, I think you cut her too deep.” The man crawled over to you, his hands pressing down to try and staunch the flow. The woman fell to her knees beside him, her hands reaching out to grip one of your arms. The clatter of the weapon she had used was loud and you looked over to it. It was a piece of dirty glass.

“I-I didn’t me-mean to hurt you so badly! I’m so sorry.”

“Fuck, okay, go to my pack.” They shared a confused look, but the fact that they hadn’t run off with yours and Joel’s supplies to their remorse at hurting you told you they were good people. “Go! There’s a spare shirt, we need it to put over the wound.”

Just as she bent to dig into the pack by the couch, Joel’s quiet steps and low threat called as he entered the room.

“Get your hands off of her and step back.”

“Wait! They aren’t Infected!” You panted, voice sharp despite the effort it was taking to breath as your middle burned, knowing the man’s instincts had taken over completely. His steps measured. His gun raised. His reasoning marred by the sight of you bleeding on the floor.

“They hurt you.” His honeyed drawl gone, replaced with an air of authority that demanded attention, all dark, rich molasses sticking everyone in place.

“It was an accident, Joel, please. They…they have a baby on the way. We have to take them back.”

“That true?” He kept the shot gun aimed at the man hovering over you, the blood shining on his hands making his nerves twitch. But his eyes landed on the woman who had been rummaging through your bag for first aid supplies. She slowly stood from her crouch, revealing her swollen belly.

He ordered them both to take a seat on the couch, telling them he would deal with them once he tended to you, letting them know that he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot if they tried something. He then kneeled down on the ground beside you, one of his large hands going over yours holding the wad of fabric to your middle, the other going to cup your cheek.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” His eyes bore into you, stern edge to them. You were visibly shaking, skin looking sallow and sweat beading at your temple. He carefully moved your hands aside, eyes flicking from your pained expression to the injury as he slowly lifted the fabric you had pressed to it. And then the hem of your sweater and tank top underneath.

Lips a grim line and eyes dark as he took in the still bleeding injury. His brow furrowed deeper as a thick rivulet ran down your side to spill onto the floor and Joel cursed under his breath. The gash was a few inches long across your stomach, to the left of your belly button, rimmed and irritated red. Angry and no doubt already infected if the shard of dirtied glass abandoned beside you was any indication. Your blood stained it, the woman’s fingertips pressed into it in smeared, red marks.

“Shit, it’s already starting to get infected.”

You managed a weak nod, both in response to his question and muttered worries fighting off the tears as he pressed around the wound, trying to get a gauge of how deep it was. You held back a whimper at the prodding, bottom lip firmly between your teeth.

“Joel, there’s gau-gauze in my pack.”

“Find it and toss it to me, quick.” He raised a threatening look to the pair on the couch, their heads turned and watching everything play out. Worried that if you were to bleed out, the man wouldn’t hesitate to retaliate or leave them here to their own devices.

The woman rushed to dig into your pack once more, fingers finding the crinkling plastic wrapped around the sterile gauze. She tossed it to Joel, the hand that had moved down from your cheek to rest over your heart on your chest reached out to snag it from the air. He ripped it open with his teeth and urged your hands to hold it down atop the wound.

You could only watch through hazy eyes as he shucked off his jacket and then his flannel. With a smooth motion he removed his t-shirt, his most base layer. With his chest on full display, the dark hair over his chest and trailing down from his belly button you startled at the sound of ripping fabric. The knife he kept holstered on the back of his waist out of is sheath as he used it to cut a thick strip from the hem of his shirt. He gently urged you to lift up from the ground for him to wind it around your back and tie it securely over the wound.

Slipping two fingers below it to ensure it was tight enough to keep pressure but not overly so as to cause more problems. It felt a thousand times better already, your nausea waning as the blood stopped flowing from your body. But you would definitely need stitches and antibiotics once back inside the gates. Once he was sure the wound was okay for the moment, he took both your hands in his, a slight tremor to them. His thumbs rubbing soothingly across the backs of them.

“Okay, you’re okay,” He murmured. He leaned down to press his forehead to yours. Breathing in deep and your lashes fluttered as he sighed out. His eyes were clenched shut and he took a moment to ground himself before he pulled back and peppered chaste kisses over your face. Your forehead, each of your cheeks, the tip of your nose. The edges of your mouth.

“I’m okay,” You promised, unable to ignore how shaky his breathing was so close. A nervous giggle sounded from you, unable to tamp it down as your head swam. “But maybe you should put your clothes back on before you freeze.”

“Can’t lose you, sweetheart.” The whispered sentiment washed over you, leaving you warm and light in the chest for a completely different reason. Only when you nodded in understanding, did he reach over for his flannel and shrug it back over his broad shoulders. The buttons closed up with deft fingers as he watched you take a mental stock of your body and how it felt. You said up just as his jacket was pulled back into place over the flannel.

“Good thing ‘m not goin’ anywhere then, huh?” His wet chuckle was the only response you got before he helped you to stand. He guided you over the couch with an arm around your shoulders, silently demanding that the pair move from the cushions to make room for you. Making sure you were comfortable with both packs beside you before he turned his attention to the people who had injured you.

A nurse took you in quickly, insisting someone else would do a thorough check on the brother and sister you and Joel had brought to them once leaving the horses at the stables. The backup shirt you had taken along with you in your pack tied to your abdomen with a scrap of fabric from the bottom of Joel’s undershirt. It was better than nothing, better than bleeding out.

You had insisted that the woman, Callie carefully got up on Lowry for the trip back. Joel had been worried about them sharing a horse together, the very real possibility of them taking off on it at the forefront of his mind. But you had assured him that they could be trusted. That they could’ve taken both your packs and left you to bleed out on the floor.

That was how you had found yourself once again sharing a horse with Joel for an entire day. The feel of his body pressed close to your back so different from when he had tried to keep his distance. His hands secure around your waist and resting atop the saddle horn. You tried not to let it distract you, carrying on casual conversation with them to get a feel for who they were. Every so often, when you grunted at particularly hard hoofbeats or a rough jostle, his right hand would press against your roughly patched wound.

Stitches, the nurse had said. At least four of them.

Joel was outside the hall, waiting for you to be released. He looked up from the notepad in his hands when you exited the room, brown eyes tired. You couldn’t read his thoughts, though you were too tired to begin to think what that could mean.

“Hey, what’d they say?” He surged up, the notebook going back into his pocket, the worn fabric snug around it. He retrieved the coat and sweater he had kept for you when the nurse had asked you to remove all outer layers.

You lifted the torn tank top, allowing him to see the clean, bright white bandage that had been taped over the injury. The fait outline of stitches could be seen through it. Two of his fingers brushed against it, almost tenderly.

“No painkillers, those are only for serious cases.” You let him help you put the sweater back on, his hands holding the head opening side for you to slid it on, gently tugging the fabric into place around your sore arms. “They gave me a shot of antibiotics and a pack of fresh gauze. Gotta come in next week to get the stitches looked at.”

“I’m so sorry.” He murmured as he held the coat up for your to slip your arms into. When you turned around to face him again, he pulled you to him in a loose embrace. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“Joel, it’s okay. We’re okay. I promise.” You leaned up, mindful of the new pull on your middle, and pressed your lips to his cheek. Sighing at the soft pressure, he walked alongside you out of the building.

Since there wasn’t anything they could give you for the pain,  you just wanted to lay in bed and rest. But you also wanted to try and find a reason to get out of the house later. Swallowing down your fear of rejection, knowing he was the one person who wouldn’t do that to you, you asked him for a drink later in the evening.

But he didn’t look up from the paper in his hands as he walked out the front door with you, scribbling something down on a page that only had two previous lines of script. The chill of the wind breezing past you both as you repeated your question in slightly louder volume, sure he just hadn’t heard you. You knew he was hard of hearing in his right ear and that was the side you were on. But what you didn’t expect was his haphazard response. So at odds with the tenderness and care he had shown you throughout the day.

"Huh? Oh uh, I can't tonight. Sorry, I'll see ya, Olive." And then he's off without so much as a glance your way, leaving you standing outside the infirmary. It left you more than a little concerned, whiplash at the sudden shift from intimate, to protective, to nothing so much as a glance all from the same man.

It’s early, the sun not even showing signs of rising. Snow drifted down, a perfect morning. You were humming to yourself, mentally planning out the meals you could make. A breakfast casserole that would allow for the use of root vegetables, eggs, some of the goat cheese that had been made perhaps. You were minding your own business, enjoying the walk to the mess hall and the kitchen that would allow you to work and forget the hollow feeling that hadn’t left you all last night. It was easier feeling nothing other than the faint pull of stitches on your abdomen.

You catch a figure walking out of a front door further down the street. The figure broad but their steps light as they descended the porch to Marsha’s house.

Oh.

It was Joel.

He didn’t have a utility belt, he didn’t have a toolbox, he didn’t have anything that indicated he had been there to repair something.

It was Joel Miller, leaving Marsha’s house. Far too early to mean anything other than the fact that he had spent the night inside, with her. Guess that's why he had turned down your offer for an evening with you. He already had someone to share drinks with, someone to spend his time with.

Turning, you tried not to follow his figure as he began to walk down the street, facing away from you.

You could only think that it was because of the way you had run the other night. Because of the way you two kept giving into yearning touches only for the moment to be yanked away. Three times now, far too much trouble for someone as busy as him. Someone with a life like he led as he cared for his family and the repairs that were needed around the settlement. You were desperate, for company, for attention, for him. It must’ve not settled well with him to realize how much you wanted him and that it never seemed to work out in his favor, only friend or not.

Deep down, you knew that wasn’t the reason. He was such an understanding man, and he wouldn’t put the blame on you. But the fact of the matter was that he was willingly spending his time with Marsha.

He wasn’t sure where you had disappeared to, your house dark safe for the light over the stoop light up in a warm tone. He had a box in his hands, something he had rifled through his, Ellie’s, and Tommy’s homes for to fit the finished set of wooden utensils you had asked him to make.

He had taken his time, sneaking glances at the ones in your kitchen when he dropped you off after patrol one morning and you offered him a light lunch. You had made grilled sandwiches, pairing them with some steamed vegetables that were beginning to wilt in the cold air of the house. You ran the heat on a good middle range, to ensure it didn’t get too stuffy and begin to take a toll on the record collection in the living room or the books you kept on every surface and crammed lovingly into the many bookshelves you had.

You seemed to favor spoons, though he did catch sight of a few rather flat spatulas. He had inspected the wood thoroughly before he even thought of measuring it. Admiring the way the dried wood looked and taking notes down on the pad of paper he kept on him at all times. Compared it to the two planks he had, noting the different feel and heft of them versus the completely dry specimen you had brought to him.

He let his thoughts wander as he took a seat on the cold concrete steps of your stoop. Opting to wait for your return for a few moments, hoping that you would return soon as evening had fallen, the set having set a few hours ago. He didn’t recall you mentioned evening shifts at the mess hall, opting for the mornings that you enjoyed. Something about the quiet of the town, less lonely than the nights, had been a quiet admittance. He had been too shocked to respond, you must’ve taken his silence as the end of the conversation. You had turned quiet alongside him, the only sound for the rest of the route back to the gates had been the hooves along the ground.

It struck him now, that you had been admitting even early on how lonely you were. How the town choosing to not interact with you had hurt, had been hurting you. A warning even then, that you were sensitive to the dynamic and went along with it even if you didn’t agree with it. You were such a lovely person. Kind hearted, giving, caring, and he loathed that people like Marsha perpetuated the agenda against you.

She was relentless in her attention on him and he was getting a little annoyed with it. But he was being cordial, the exact word you had used to describe the woman. He had finished the last of her shelving the other day. He had worked overnight to get it fitted and fastened to the wall. Securing it with bolts and weight holding supports, wanting to be done with the project that had been more of a coercion of his skills. She was a manipulator and he had played into her hands just like she had wanted.

He felt like a fool, knowing he had agreed to do it for your sake and out of a need to protect you.

Then he realized there were two people who allowed you into their lives. That spoke fondly of you, invited you to dinner, allowed you shares of what they could get the last of in down on main street.

Standing, he hoped to find you among his family. Making his way his way to Tommy’s, Maria was the one to answer the door. A finger to her lips to signal him to keep quiet as she slipped out the door to join him on the porch.

“They’re both sleeping, it took an hour to get him down and then of course Tommy slumped over.” She didn’t seem upset, but the news allowed for Joel to realize you weren’t here either. Clocking his silence and the box in his hand, she cocked her head up a little to examine his features. “Everything okay, Joel? Olive didn’t pull her stitches already, did she?”

“Yeah, everythin’ is okay. I’m actually looking for her. Have you seen her today?” He shuffled on his feet, aware of how they ached as the cold settled in to stay for the season.

“She’s at the bar, came by with dinner for us on her way out.” Maria explained, watching his closely. Able to pick up on his agitation. It was odd when she compared it to the almost forces nonchalance you had exhibited earlier.

“Can you hold onto this for me, I’ll be back to get it tomorrow.” He thrusted the box into the woman’s hands and was making off down the street before she could even respond.

The bar is a cacophony of sounds, of laughter, of conversation, the clink of glasses being lifted and then placed back on tables. The gurgle of more drinks being poured, of ice tinkling in glasses, all of it was so nice to just sit in and enjoy. Even if you were alone on your stool.

"Another round?" You disguised the clenching of your hand around your empty glass, the voice right behind you. His voice, the charming drawl pitched low and so so close.

“I don’t think we should be drinking with each other.” You shifted away from him, not wanting him to think you were open to spending time with him after his rejection, after his secret of seeing Marsha was exposed to you in the form of his leaving her house far too early for any reason than having stayed the night, for the way you had wanted to say yes to spending time with him but it hurt too much. For the way that it was getting harder and harder to resist the urge to lean up and kiss him, to run your hand down his arm or back in a soothing caress. “I’m waiting for someone.”

His brow furrowed as he regarded you, lifting his drink to his lips and taking a deep pull from the amber liquid inside. He sat down atop the stool beside you despite your words. His glass settled on the bar top, now empty. Your eyes were focused on the melting ice, not able to look at the man who was giving you his attention.

“What’s that?” He huffed, almost chuckled as he believed you were just joking, teasing him like you tended to do sometimes while out on patrol. But you weren’t, both of you seated at the long bar of the Tipsy Bison on the main street in town. When you still didn’t raise your eyes to him, he realized you weren’t, that you were turning him down and away.

“Tell me the real reason,” He leaned close, pivoting the seat of the stool so you faced him. Your insides whooshed with the movement. With the way he demanded your attention, with the entirety of his focus on you almost breaking your resolve to remain professional. Aware of all the eyes constantly watching you, judging you; all the eyes on him constantly watching for entirely different reasons, fawning over him.

“Because I like you.” You admitted, unable to deny him the truth. You could only lift your eyes as high as his lips, which was a mistake as you recalled the feel of them. They were so soft, so plush and you never had the chance to gently nip at his bottom one…

“Well, I like you too, Olive.” His nose brushed your cheek, moving impossibly close, his thumbs digging into your thighs as he held to the stool.

“No, I like you, Joel. And this isn’t a good idea.” You pulled back, aware that you were both in a very public place. That the looks focused on you both, your intimacy, combined with soft murmurs of voices that could be saying anything. Making notions in their minds that he was associated with you, that he spent time with you enough to feel comfortable engaging in this type of behavior. And that was bad, it was so bad for people to associate him with you. It would cause people to question him after everything he did for the town. It would begin to erase all the good he had provided.  “Joel, people are looking.”

“Don’t worry about them, just focus on me.” Your eyes snapped to his, taking in the way the brown of them was alight from the sconces around the bar. There was no hesitancy in them, no remorse. Only adoration and your stomach swooped, your heart fluttered. But you tried your best to resist.

“That’s not a good idea either.” You whispered.

“You thinkin’ of doin’ somthin’ to me?”

“M-maybe.” The admittance rolls off your tongue, his lips close enough that he can taste it.

“Sweetheart, I’d let ya if that’s what you wanted.”

“N-no.” It took everything in you to deny him, to deny the tension that pulled your muscles tight in every part of your body.

“No?” He leaned back, taking your words and heeding them, sensing that you meant them, even if it was a stuttered, breathy response.

“I don’t want to, I mean I do, but- this” You motioned between the two of you, how little space there was between your bodies. His body pivoted toward you and his hands still partially around the denim of your thighs. “Isn’t a good idea.”

His eyes roamed over you, seeing the nerves and truth of your demeanor. You did like him, and it was becoming a problem. He didn’t need a younger woman fawning over him, the friendly rapport riddled with holes. Of temptations that were tamped down by his unwillingness to share his craft with you, the time he had been spending with Marsha, the pull of his attention in so many directions, especially with the holiday hurtling toward the town tomorrow.

“We’re hardly friends, Miller. You barely started acknowledging me outside of patrol.” You reached for your drink so you’d be less likely to cup his face in your hands and throw caution to the wind.

“What makes you think I haven’t been tryin’ to keep my hands to myself, bein’ around you?” His voice tipped low, to avoid being overheard despite the closeness he had initiated. Closing your eyes at the visual, you shook you head as your throat bobbed with the sip you had taken from your drink.

“Because you don’t like me that way.” You scoffed, beginning to lean away from him. “You didn’t even get me anything for the holiday…You’re with Marsha.”

“Didn’t get your name in swap.”

“Oh.” And all the fight you had in you crumbled at his simple words. The reassurance in his voice that drowned out the hum of the environment all around you.

“But I thought - Ellie was asking so many questions I figured she was doin’ the work for you.”

“Maybe she got you?” He tapped the lip of his glass as the bartender wandered close, signaling for another when the man got the chance. His hand going back to your leg in a second.

“N-no. She got Jesse. Whoever got me most likely tossed the scrap of paper and picked another.”

“Marsha and I are just friendly, it’s nothing beyond that. Olive, I swear to –“

Someone cleared their throat unnervingly close. You both turned away from each other to face the person who had decided to break the currents flowing between your bodies, tension thick in the air with their approach.

Marsha. With a wrapped gift in her hand and a yearning look for Joel. Her attention solely on him.

“So much for just being friendly, huh, Miller?” You set your drink down, glass nearly empty and pushed off from your stool. The drag of his large hands over the tops of your thighs not registering as you quickly took off. Leaving him to the woman who seemed to be a constant companion as of late. Better company for him, you though begrudgingly as you made your way through the snow-covered streets and back to the safety of your home.

Sighing, you picked up the wrapped bundle of recipe cards. Joel’s gift.

The one you had spent hours pouring over, making sure your writing was neat and legible, the cursive loops delicately over the lines on the thick cardstock. You had debated whether or not he would be able to read the script, knowing how he squinted at certain things. No doubt needing glasses in his older age, an item you always kept a keen eye out for should it end up being a perfect match for him.

Your heart panged, the fleeting image of him tucked in bed beside you with a book or manual in his hands and a pair of reading glasses perched on his aquiline nose. His scruff catching the light of a soft bedside lamp and the silver sparkling. His curls damp from an evening shower, the scent of him so clean and pure beside you as you lay tucked in the other side. It hurt. It hurt to think you would never get to experience that, experience him in every simple, mundane way.

With a long-suffering huff, you reached for some of the dried leaves you kept from the trees when you last preened them. Fastening it to the top of the bundle with a piece of twine. You don’t write Joel’s nor yours. He would know it was from you from the writing inside, from the olive twig. A parting gift, you guessed.

This would be the last thing you would offer him before drawing back to your solemn life. He had brought color and life and laughter into it, but the hurt wasn’t worth it. Your heart and body aching for a man who had too much to lose.

You faintly heard soft voices trailing along the dark streets, the light fixtures doing their best to illuminate the way for any one who was out at the late hour. The sky dark with the added overcast that hadn’t waned during the day. Making everything feel pressed down and low, condensing the world to make it feel almost suffocating. Snow soft as it descended. Maybe it was just you, sensitive to the weather and things around you in your anxiety as you turned down the street Joel’s house was nestled on. Just as you turned the corner, feet scuffing on the weathered gravel packed down to create solid paths in the broken asphalt you collided with something hard and lost your balance. The built up snow making it hard to catch yourself.

The scrunch of paper you had wrapped the gift in was loud, ripping at the drag of thick fabric that made up someone’s coat. The index cards fly up into the air as you landed heavily on your side. Through the sounds of the fluttering paper, there was a gasp pitched high that gave way to delirious giggles and a grunt pitched low. Your own indignant noise floating amidst it all, the pull of your stitches uncomfortable.

“My apologies, didn’t see you the- Olive?”

You had run into Joel’s broad back, his front now facing you as the cards rained down to scatter all over the corner. Snow dampening them instantly upon contact, blurring the ink you had taken the time to put down to them.

Behind him was a bright-eyed Marsha, her hands holding tight to one of his. She looked flushed, no doubt from the drinks she had indulged in, leaning heavily into him. And Joel��he looked shocked as he stared down at your fallen form. Either unaware or uncaring of how the woman he was with tried to burrow into his side.

They had been the ones whose voices you heard. But what had they been doing just standing still in the middle of the street….and then it hit you. They had probably been kissing or sharing in casual touches as they walked back from the bar to one of their homes for the evening and your stomach lurched, dropping out from under you.

Joel detached from her, intending to reach down and help you back up. But you didn’t want him touching you with the same hands that had been soft just an hour ago, the same hands that had been touching her with the same intent.

“Don’t!”

“Just tryin’ to help you up,” He backed off immediately, his eyes alert, not used to you raising your voice nor the heat behind your tone. Especially toward him, the hurt making you unable to tamp it down to a polite tone. Tears burned behind your own eyes, in your throat. The perfect match to your insides feeling like they have just been set in a mixer.

“Don’t need your help,” You pushed up from the ground, legs tingling as you fought the urge to run from the awkward and tense scene. And then you realized you could. You did.

Leaving the two alone in the middle of the street, surrounded by white spots of paper all around, the wrapping that had been around them crumpled on the ground. The dried olive leaves that had been fastened to it with twine lay abandoned at their feet.

You ran all the way back to your house, the front door slamming behind you and the lock loud in the silence that followed. Your back thumped against the wood of it, sliding down until your bottom hit the floor.

And you let yourself break down, crying into your hands. Hating how you had begun to believe that your life was going to change, that Joel was going to be something good in your life. And deep down, underneath all the hurt and anger, you still believed he was. Even if he wasn’t meant to be anything other than a patrol partner.

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[the-entitie]

COD men x K-9 Unit male reader

Part 1 | Part 2》》

A/n: I can speak three languages, only one of which borrow German words, so forgive me for shitty translations. I'm from the RSA, so you know. Not any of the boys hometown.

Reader works with a K-9 unit and his partner is called Mutt who is a mix breed of Alaskan Akita and Doberman(Mutt is also a service dog as reader has paranoia and C-PTSD). Readers call sign is Riot. The 141 boys needed help tracing a terrorist and John called in some favors to bring Riot and Mutt into the field. He helped the Los Vaqueros as well.

After the mission back at base, the reader interacts with the men, and they end up interacting with him.

Reader is referred to as you or Riot.

Mentions of panic attacks, anxiety attacks, C-PTSD, war, and / or war related violence. Unhealthy coping mechanisms, past trauma. Death of a family member. Torture, scars, and flashbacks.

Left: American Akita and Right: Long-haired Doberman

John Price: (740 words)

-He met you first, saw you first. Hell, he verified your file so he knew of your old teammates that turned because of the torture, and he knew of the many years you spent MIA. He also knows what you did to get out. So he keeps you close and keeps an eye on you. He's the one who needs to clear you for this recon mission. It will be his fault if another team mate goes rogue. -It only take him a few minutes to see how much you actually relay on Mutt, it takes him days to see its not reliance, no the two of you act in a cemented trust between you two. From the interactions at home base to the way you both move like a well oiled machine on the field, it doesn't take a genius to see that Mutt is a deadly force with training that makes the hound that much more dangerous. Price comes face to face with that realization when he sees just how far Mutt can throw a soldier four times their size. And Mutt came up to his thighs, mind you. -Time and space are all Price really needed to trust you completely. He knew how you acted with Mutt, and therefore, he knew how you would act around a team you trust. It doesn't take him long to see its not only Mutt who reacts to you. You react just as much based on your K-9. Price nearly shoots you when you call out to Mutt because you didn't whistle for the hound. You howled, and he could hardly tell it apart from the wild dogs he's heard out in the desert. He didn't even understand what the fuck you where doing until he heard something answer you, in the same rumbling call. It took a lot more time to get used to those kinds of noises from you. He could expect them from Mutt but not when it's you who makes them -Both of you were exhausted, been about three long days on your feet with little sleep, that's when he asks you how you make the sounds Mutt does. Hell he even starts trying to learn them just to know how you and you K-9 partner work better. "So I just cup my hands and what now Riot? I Grunt?" "No," you laugh at him, he doesn't feel patronized by it, "you hold your hands around your mouth and just bark, makes it echo like a dog." He sounded more like a mountain lion then canine when he actually gave it a try. You teach him how to pitch it up a bit, and how to drag the call out properly. "And you don't use your hand because?" "Because I'm used to it, and can make the 'echo' without my hands. I still do when I howl. Look." A few nights pass before he uses it to scare a tango shitless out side of the enemy base. He doesn't admit it but he likes 'talking' to the local wild dogs with you. He even enjoys hearing you and Mutt go off at each other because it means your both alive and still here. -Out side of the field and when you two go out to roam the town at the dead of night, he comes to see that the canine noises you and Mutt share gives you peace. The kind he used to find in cigars and smoke. He gets it, he knows that some people just have a vice. When you find him smoking alone behind his own home, he shrugs it off and blames it on the smoke detectors. He doesn't say that he stops to make your K-9 more comfortable in his home. He doesn't stop smoking but he tries to avoid it for your sake. You only corner him around a day or so to thank him. He won't admit to the red flaring up on his ears, but he tells you to drop it. -If he's ever the one who finds you when your having an attack, he will guard you. Get you safe and comfortable then he will become a gruff mother bear and be completely over protective of you. He only calms down when he sees that Mutt already does that, and he learns what can help you, what to look out for. He won't admit it though.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley: (734 words)

-Ghost didn't like you at first. or well he doesn't like anyone actually but he didn't like you. -You had a dog breed that was originally made for bear bating and he hated that he knew that. Even if you didn't get the hound because of that. Well, that and Mutt is constantly muzzled. It took you explaining it was required by law for him to try and ignore it. -But when he watches how fluidly you and Mutt work together, even seeing the raw fucking power that dog has when Mutt tackled an enemy to the ground, he starts to understand why you have to keep Mutt muzzled. Even if he didn't like it. -Simon has an ex-military dog at home so he knows how to act around an active working dog. He's the best to be around if you don't want people petting or trying to do anything really with your K-9 partner. -when at the base afterwards he sees that the dog isn't just a working dog but acts like you service dog. Everything from crowd control to doing small tasks for you on the daily. To siting between your legs when you have your back to anyone when doing a task to protect you. Mutt will even start doing this quiet sort of 'rueff' sound that will make you get out of where ever you are without any fanfare, you will just disappear. -He only finds out why a lot later. He feel kind of stupid for missing it after the fact. -Its the scars that cross your back and over your shoulders, the hitches of thick skin around your jaw. You are a torture survivor. So suddenly he gets it. Mutt is your safety, the dog wears a muzzle because your K-9 partner is also a person protection dog. -After he realized the why you stick to your partner so closely, he would begin to help Mutt protect you. He would stand ahead of you when Mutt would lay down to create space (crowd control). Ghost would watch your back and react with your partner to help you. -He takes his mask off when you two are either alone or when your are forced to show your scares he shows some of his to help you feel more comfortable. -you start to notice it, and at first you would try to stop him but eventually you just start protecting him back. You become more comfortable around him. Simon notices it to. -One day after a few days straight of being on your feet, both you and Simon end up passed out in his private quarters. Ghost wakes first to see Mutt cuddle against you and draped across him, when ever he tried to move the dog, they would just growl and to his utter amusement you growled back. -After that he gets you to 'talk' to Mutt any time he can, even on missions. - Ghost was the one who told you and Mutt to bark at each other to distract the enemy when on a recon mission. "Copy Riot, we need an in" "Need an in, copy. Any ideas for that L.t?" "Yeah, Riot go off and make some noise with Mutt" "Seriously?" "Yip, get going we need that data" You two got in, and yes you did start howling back and forth with Mutt in the echo trick wolves use. The enemy thought they were surrounded by cayotes. -When you eventually cuddle up with Ghost again, and Mutt yips or growls at you and you make the noise back, Simon will growl at you. It becomes a games between you to, even doing it as call outs outside of coms. Soap complains about wild dogs once and now Simon will get Mutt vocal just to fuck with Soap. -he starts calling you dog related nicknames, your name doesn't exist anymore. Call sign? only when necessary. You are now called with doggie names. He'll call out a, "Heh, Good boy" "Come on puppy you can speak" when you go dark on coms, or just when you don't answer him. Yes he will also say things like, "What ever you say Fido" -He makes you swear to never tell a soul that he also barks back at Mutt when you two are off duty. You caught him coping a growl when playing with Mutt once. -He gets Mutt and his las to meet. Now he also makes dog sounds with you on his down time, even without you much to his old girls delight.

John “Soap” Mactavish: (616 words)

-He loves your K-9 partner from the first time Price introduces you to the team, sure he tries to be professional but the second you let Mutt go off to play out of gear he just wants to give the hound so many pets. They are just so big and have that cute angry tilt to their face! Can you blame him. -when out on the field, he loves running with two of you on missions. The adrenaline and rush and just how much faster you two are than him. He loves it. -You end up doing it with him outside of missions after a while. Hiking out in mountains and secluded valleys, it's the first time he hears you howl with Mutt. The coyotes had started, yipping over whatever they killed lower down the ridge. Mutt, who was a few paces head, had paused to howl, without thinking you howl with them. Scares Soap but he just finds it fun. -Soap being so in love with Mutt leads to just being around you a lot. He starts learning what certain movements mean to you and your dog, how a sharp left with your hand was a call to draw back or how the shift of your stance meant to take the lead. It amazed him how well you read each other. -Then he sees how you act outside of the field, how Mutt still acted like a protector, and you kept mimicking the sounds Mutt made. Especially when you were more tired. He found it cute. Hell, he loved playing with Mutt, so when you made the hound more excited, he also got just as if not more excited. -Soap loves head scratches you find out when you two are off duty and hanging out. He's on the floor with Mutt and the hound he's cuddling wines before you reach down to comfort the dog with head scritches. You miss and pet Soap instead, beside being completely flustered, he asked you to do it again.  He just starts asking you to do it more and more before you start petting him the same way you pet over your hound. -Now you start with the dog related nicknames, even over coms. Much to Soaps embarrassment and the teams delight. He nearly buckles the first time you call him a good boy, and he does when you call him a good dog. Blames it on a miss step. -He loves, loves, loves listening to you, and Mutt yap back and forth, loves even more when you go to rough houses with growls and even try pining you down one. He fails, but he doesn't care. -Soap only catches one of your attacks when it's about sun down. You're both at his place standing in the kitchen when your shoulders suddenly hitch, but you continued on as normal. Until Mutt wandered over to you, they stopped dead before making a gruff noise and jumping up onto you. Instead of getting you secluded because, of course, the hound sees Soaps house as a safe space. And Mutt will get you down, force you to sit and lower your head. "Woh, n'er knew em ta jump? Wait shit. ROIT!" He'll be right there next to you, knows what to do because of Ghosts episodes on recons. "What's it, lad? What can I do ta help 'im?" -You don't really talk about it. Sure, you explain what it was and why Mutt did that, but not the why it happened. It takes a while to admit that the scares you hide are the reason for that attack. He gets it he does, and now? Mother fucker will do dumb shit to distract you, or just talk and talk and talk. It helps, he knows it helps.

König: (764 words)

-Being a sniper, he likes the added security, the extra eyes to help watch his back. Sure, he doesn't trust you per say but he tries to be friendly none the less. -He had no idea what Mutt was trained for until he saw the both of you take down someone who made it to his vantage point. He saw how you moved like Mutt was an extension of yourself, that's how you earn his respect. -König didn't know why you had so many commands for Mutt, but most of them were cues or just situational. Most of all, the verbal commands you use are in Russian and Dutch so he can understand some of the tasks you ask Mutt to do . It kind of scares him that Mutt would know which trail was a friend and which person wasn't. He stands by that fear when he watches you set them off on a run away target. -He will only admit to himself that both you and Mutt look way to good covered in the gore from that attack. -You had to explain that that kind of training meant your partner had to be muzzled. You both get to talking that night, swapping stories of close calls, and König shyly showed you the star splattered scar on his jaw. Lifting his hood up just enough to see it before hurriedly drooping it back down. You share a few of the worse days you had as a call in search and riot guard and snippets of the scars covering your throat. -Habits begin forming. König will be a silent wall between you and crowds while Mutt would start alerting to his anxiety attacks as well. You made a joke about borrowing Mutt to him on the days off. He didn't understand the first time Mutt barked at him in a weird gruff tone before jumping up and doing it again. It's when you get him secluded and safe that you explain it to him. "Its called signaling. They can tell you when these things are going to happen or are actively happening. " "So it's to let me know?" "Yeah, for me, it's when I'm going to either for a flash back or when my paranoia forces me into a panic attack." "Flash back?" "Yes, remember that sister I told you about." -It took days for you to actually relay that story to him. How your team abandoned you, how the enemy held your sisters head above your bloody form. You explained how that caused phantom pains or flashbacks and how crippling that can be some days. -He becomes your solace after that. He would be there when you needed it. Keep people away when you couldn't look at anyone. He even began listening to Mutts alerts. He even lets you help him through the easier ones. -König called you one night when you both were off for the next few days. You could tell by the shake on his breath what was happening before he could tell you. That was when you showed him how Mutt does decompression therapy, the hound big enough to help ground him. You stayed that night, even teaching König some of the commands you use to tell Mutt how to help you. He's quick to learn them as some phrases are Dutch that you use so he can catch the meaning of some commands. -You don't call him until a long while later. It's on a mission while you two are hunkered down after a botched extraction. Or well, Mutt calls him. "Riot? Are you, Oh Scheiße! 「Shit」" "wat 「what」, ag. What can I do? Dir helfen 「Help you」, how can I help. Please let me help you. " -He ended up holding how so you couldn't hurt yourself in these attacks. It didn't feel as entrapped as you thought it would. König is so much bigger than you, but it's like he makes a physical barrier between you and the world. He helps your partner make you feel safe. It's hard to explain to anyone why your panic attacks act like that, why your mind needs pain to calm from feeling like you're dying. König will explain how his attacks can feel suffocating, and that's why his jaw and throat are so bruised most days. -Between one mission and the next, you start showing off things you and Mutt can do to him, like Mutt retrieving throne knives or how the hound can trace any sent it knows for miles. -You only bark back at Mutt one night when trapped in a safe house. Neither of you could find each other, and mutt had run off

Alejandro Vargas: (720 words)

-Learning of the terrorist stationed so close to los vaqueros' home base, Alejandro was quick to reach out. The 141 had helped him before, so he was surprised to learn of the newer recruit they called in to help them. Alejandro told Price to just bring you along. They needed the extra help honestly, as much as he refused to trust any of 141 purely on principle. They needed the help. -He met you with Ruddy on the roof of the office building, and he asked the polit to land on. When you dropped from the helicopter with the others. Mutt held to your chest before being deposited on the ground. He's seen how some of the other search and rescue units who have K-9's, but he's never seen anyone who works with their hound like you do. Alejandro is both grateful and terrified to have you fighting with him.  -Seeing you and Mutt outside the field was even more intriguing. How the two of you reacted perfectly to each other, he saw a bit of himself and Rudy in the way you two work like a well-oiled machine. He tried to play nice, be kind and calm, but when shit hit the fan? He drops it. Its only been a week before you use the recall command on Mutt to level the man they needed to interrogate. Both of you were forced to hunker down in a safe house, Alejandro making the bound man walk with little success. He asked for your help not long after the son had dipped down.  "Think he will talk?" "Not willingly if that file you circulated was true." "Any ideas?" "You aren't scared of loud noises, are you?" "Not really, why?" -When you said you could help, this isn't what he was expecting, but it was working. You had taken to standing behind the tied down guy, and whenever Alejandro could sound even remotely frustrated,  you would call out to Mutt before the dog would lunge with a snarl or harsh bark. Scared the man shitless, and he would mumble about 'de-ablo' or 'deamons' on and off. When things got too harsh, or either of you were cornered, he watched in equal parts horror and delight as you let Mutt cull those surrounding you all. Watch as you both kill together just as well as you work together. -It eventually became a joke, the whole you being a dog or sounding like one. Even when the two of you left the safe house. Hell, he started talking to you like he would your dog. Started to tease you with the same command you used on your hound. "Come on, Roit, I know you can beg better than that." "Here, cachorro cachorro cachorro [puppy puppy puppy]!" "Such a good boy, you want a treat?" "There we go, Good perro. Now sit for me." Even saying he kept treats for when you were especially well behaved. If you didn't also start laughing along he wouldn't have kept doing it and actually started keeping 'treats' on hand for you on the late nights you two would just talk on and on about nothing and everything. -Being back at the base and left to your devices, he started asking about everything Mutt could do. He would ask if you could also do the tricks and inquire about the ones you could. "Wait cariño, you can howl?" "Yeah. Wanna hear me?" "Oh more than anything." "hhhm, maybe I'll do it later." "I'm happy to beg you, but I think you would sound better begging me, cariño." "I don't beg Alejandro." "You will. And you'll sound so good doing it." "Try me," -He loved hearing you talk to Mutt. Just waiting up at night to listen to the back and forth of barking and yips that echo across the open land. Whether from far away or not, he loved it. -Alejandro is the worst when either of you get hurt. He is the worst flirt, and he lays the dog related teasing on twice as thick. Not only is Rudy swearing him out in broken Spanish, but you don't help either. Doing anything to help him stay conscious or playing along to distract yourself from the pain. Even Mutt begins to see him as safe.

More COD Boys x K-9 unit reader 》》》》

[starsomens]

Primal

A/N: I was looking around for a prompt generator and I had found one specifically for NSFW prompts and this one prompt caught my eye and HAD to write it so please enjoy 😘. Here’s the link to the generator

Warnings: exhibitionism!, not proofread. outdoor(ish) sex, public(ish) sex, getting caught (kind of) PIV sex, unprotected (WRAP IT!),oral (female), dirty talk, marking, slight degradation, Noah x Y/N with slight x Nick Folio, kind of threesome to an extent (??), Noah is aware of it (sort of), this is a work of FICTION! proceed caution!!

Prompt: Exhibitionism. While out in the wilderness with friends, family, or a tour group, Noah and Y/N fuck in their tent, getting off on the idea that someone could possibly hear them. Bonus points for a member of their party catching them and watching them or listening to them, but not saying a thing.

The air was fresh and crisp, the scenery was gorgeous, and you could understand why so many people loved camping and hiking. There was so much peace and tranquility. Birds of all colors and sizes would fly and chirp as you pass them by. No schedules, no deadlines, no tour bus, just time to relax. That mixed friends and your boyfriend made it all better.

It was the end of the tour and you all thought having some time out together would be a great time to unwind. Noah new a hiking trail that also had some great camping spots. Noah, you, Jolly, Folio and Nick all headed there for the weekend staring from Friday and you'd leave by Sunday afternoon.

"Guys look back," you call as you snap a picture on your polaroid. You snapped a great picture of them on the trail with a view of thick trees behind them, and some genuine smiles

"Hey, Y/N where are your bags?" Jolly asked tilting his head to the side

"I got it," Noah said holding it up with a bit of a shake. Most of you things were in one big back together while yours had supplies. Soap, extra undies, the battery pack, medicine, the emergency stuff.

"He didn't let me take it for myself, even when I asked if he wanted a break and he said-"

"No, cause we're almost there" he said coming up to a small hill and at the bottom was the campsite. Luckily the park that offered them had areas that can be reserved for people, while still giving space and privacy to others who might be camping. The area was a bit higher than where the lake was and the view was gorgeous! You had gotten there early just so you could set the tents up and hopefully have a swim.

You and Noah had brought a tent to share while Jolly had set his up, Folio need some help with his. He somehow was setting it up correctly....but inside out....

Nick secured any food you brought to be sure of bears not finding it. For now it'll be in a small safe provided by the park until you were ready to eat. The sun had come to it's peak at around 2:30 pm and you were all ready to have some fun! Of course you nearly forced them all to use sunblock before even leaving the camp area. While everyone was just changing in the open! You quickly changed inside the privacy of your tent with Noah waiting outside

"hey babe," he called

"Yeah? I'm almost done!" You answered

"Oh you're fine was just gonna say I can see the shadow of your boobs" he smirks to himself, you give a small shriek and fold into a ball trying to cover yourself "Babe, babe I'm playing! You're fine" he chuckled

As you unzip the tent you groan "Noah! Can you at least help me tie the top?" you look up at him as if he now owed you the favor for pulling that stunt

"Of course princess" you turn around and hold the pieces in place while he tied it. You could see the guys getting a head start, Noah most likely telling them you’d catch up. After he was done tying up the strings he kissed the nape of your neck

“I love this one on you babe, you look great” he smiles at you as you turn to him and you peck the bottom of his chin

"Come on let's get in the water!" you take his hand and lead him to the rope that hung from the tree that leaned over the lake. Noah took the first swing and landed with a splash into the water below. You catch the rope and hold it to your chest, taking a look at the jump you'd take. The guys were in the water encouraging you to come down

"Come on Y/N, Its just a swing! You'll get down here in 5 seconds flat!" Folio tried to make it seem less intimidating.

"Come on Y/N, you live with a fucking tree, you can handle this!" Jolly calls pointing to Noah

"Just swing down Y/N, I'm right here come on!" Noah said opening his arms to you. You take in a deep breath, hold it and run off the ledge holding on to the rope and letting go just a few feet from Noah. The cool water surrounded you as you swam up to the surface, if you weren't awake before, you were now

The guy cheered and clapped for you as if you were a performing diver for the Olympics "Nice job facing your fears Y/N"

"hey I wasn't scared!" you laugh splashing Nick. Noah coming up behind you and snakes his arms around your waist. You had he was going to be romantic and hold you in the water....but you were wring. Suddenly he flips you over his head and back into the water once. again.

"NOAH! Ugh I'm get you for that!" you smack his shoulder

"Awwhhh baby I'm sowwwyyyy" he said almost mockingly

This was exactly what you all needed after tour. Just relaxation, and fun. After about an hour in the lake Folio had gotten out to start some fishing, and Nick had started on some food. You and Noah sat down under the tree. You head laid on his shoulder as his hands played with yours. Your chin rests on his shoulder as you admire his features. His beautiful skin with some freckles just underneath his eyes, his sharp jawline and beautiful nose. Those deep dark eyes you love to lose yourself in, and of course that smile. That smile was what did it for you then and still does it for you now.

“What are you looking at pretty girl?” He asked you with a smirk finally catching you

“I’m looking at a pretty boy” you answer with eyes full of love

“Is that so?” He asked twisting his body to face you more “well, can this pretty boy kiss the pretty girl?” He asked

"of course your can" you close your eyes and lose yourself in the feeling of his lips on yours. His hand cups your jaw and holds you deeper in the kiss. the leaves sing in the wind as the breeze lifts your hair. When he pulls away he pecks your nose

"Did I ever tell you, that you're gorgeous as hell?"

"I think I may have heard that once or twice" you smile feeling your cheeks burn from the blush that crept to the flesh.

He leans down to your ear "you're also the reason my pants are so tight now" you furrow your brows in confusion and when you look down you see the slight tent forming in his pants

"Noah...really? Out here? What did it for you?" you ask trying to hide your giggle

"Well you tell me," he said looking around "I'm here with my sexy girl wearing a bikini that only makes her hotter, and I'm really debating on taking you into the forest and fucking you against a tree"

You could feel yourself ache just a bit at the thought of having sex, out camping of all places! Maybe if you didn't have your friends and his band members here you would have considered it.

"Well as much as I'd love that, maybe we can tomorrow when they go on a trail hm?" he pat his chest "How's that sound?"

"We'll see baby, come on let's get some food" he said helping you up and adjusting his situation before taking your hand and walking to the food that was being cooked.

...

As the night came, you all changed out of your wet clothes and gathered by the fire. The food was amazing! Of course, you and Nick had prepped them before packing and they came out perfect for the trip. The later it got the more beautiful and clear the stars became. Noah's arm was around your shoulder as your fingers linked together. Your lay a kiss to his hand and he returns it to your head

"Ugghhh the love birds are at it again" Folio groans, teasing you both

"Don't be jealous Nick! We can find you a nice nature girl out here" Jolly shoots back

"hey! I'd sweep her off your feet for your information" he defended with a confident smile

"I'm sure you would Nick," you answer "How about we get some rest to get a good start tomorrow? I don't know about you but that food has me sleepy" you said stretching

"I'm already ahead of you" Nick said getting up and diving into his tent, ready to get some sleep. Luckily since the are is meant for camping, the floor was pretty flat and clear of twigs, roots or anything sharp. The fire was at a safe distance to keep on for the night to avoid the area getting too cold. You bid each other good night and go into you own tents. Noah shuts yours tent, with enough room for some ventilation. You had both gotten a double sleeping bag just so you didn't have to be apart, plus you still wanted cuddles.

You both climb in and snuggle into each other. Your head on his chest, and your leg was over his hip, the best and most convenient position for you both since Noah tends to sleep on his back more often then you.

"Good night princess" he squeezed you tights and kissed the center of your forehead. "I hope snakes don't crawl in here-"

"Noah! Stoooppp" he giggles and rests his chin on your head for the night

. .. ... An hour must have passed by now and you still couldn't sleep! You turned around so your back was facing your boyfriend but you couldn't get the conversation from early out of your head. The idea of you both having sex, out here, trying to keep quiet, the risk the passion. You could feel yourself getting hotter and hotter with just the thought of it. You couldn't help but rub your thighs together to get some kind of relief from the ache between your legs. You had accidentally bumped into Noah with your ass 1 or 2 times. Luckily, he hadn't booked enough or make a move to think that he may have.

At this point, you were just feeling desperate and wanted to feel release. Do you lift your head just a bit to see or hear if anyone else was awake. luckily, it seemed as if you were the only 1 for now. You cautiously call to your boyfriend to see if he was awake

You cautiously call to your boyfriend to see if he was awake "noah!" you quietly yell "are you awake?"

A few seconds passing you thought that maybe he really was asleep, but then he answered you and realized that he in fact was also awake

"of course I am with the way you're rubbing your ass against me" he whispered " If I didn't know any better, I'd say that my little slut is feeling needy" He whispered closer to your ear, feeling his hot breath against your skin. his large hand grazes over your waist and onto your stomach. finding his way under your shirt and up to your bare breast, where he gave a slight squeeze.

"mmm Noah" you whine trying to keep your noise to a minimum.

"shh shh shh, careful princess, we don't want the others to wake up do we?" he shushes you scooting closer to you until his hard cock was against your ass. His hips grind up against you, even if it wasn't direct contact it felt so good, you wanted more and you wanted him.

You flip around and your lips instantly lock in a kiss, his hand brings your leg over his hip. You grind against him finally getting sensation through the thin fabric of your shorts. He swiftly flips you on to your back and kisses along your neck, each kiss searing into your skin, your heart racing and anticipating what was to come next.

"Noah please..I need-"

"Shh princess, I gotchu" he hushed you as he sat back on his knees and pulls down your bottoms and tosses them to the side. His hands spread your knees open for him to see the wet print on the center of those cute blue panties he loves. He lifts your but on to his lap and removes the last barrier between him and your pussy. Noah had one rule when it came to sex: he always eats you out before he fucks you. With the limited space that was in here he simply lifted your hips up enough to bring his meal to him.

You bite your lip from being help at this angle. Your knees dangle over his shoulder as his breath creeps up your thigh. His eyes never leaving yours as his mouth slowly comes in contact with your wet pussy and gives a long, slow lick from bottom to top, his tongue flicking your bundle of nerves

You could feel the air from your lungs escape completely as he ate you out. His nose began nudging at your clit as his tongue worked between your fold and prodding at your entrance. While one hand kept you hoisted up in the air, the other one snakes down your body and pushes your shirt over your breasts. Your nipples exposed to the cold air, hardening at the pleasure he was giving you, and being exposed in a risky environment. His large hand massages the flesh and rolls your nipple between his fingers.

“Noah…feel s’good,” you moan “ don’t…. Please don’t stop.”

He loved when you told him not to stop, especially when you said please. His hand retreats from your breast and comes up to your pussy. His lips wrap around and suck your clit between his lips as his long digits enter you and pump in and out. His fingers curl and hit your sweetest spot making you nearly cry out waking up everyone who is there. Your hand slaps over your mouth as you try to keep quiet.

Noah, for one was enjoying the view. Had his mouth on your pussy, giving you immense pleasure while he watched your face contort in the best of ways. Feeling you pulse around his his middle and ring finger made his chest swell with pride, knowing he was the one that was making you feel good. Little did he know that there were an extra set of eyes watching from a distance.

Over in folio’s tent, the drummer, completely shocked by what he was seeing. He was woken up by some suspicious noises and set up to see what was going on. At first, he thought he may have been dreaming and it could not have possibly been what he was thinking. His tent was directly across from yours at a certain Angle getting him. Perfect access through the slightly cracked zipper of your tent. Watching his close friend and leadof their band, eating out his girlfriend in their tent. They hadn’t even noticed how far the tent was left unzipped. He knew that they left it just slightly inserted. Maybe it was the movement, maybe they opened it more? He doesn’t know the reason why he was able to see so much into their private time. Was that he could not find himself looking away Either. 

All he knew was that he could feel his shorts growing tighter the longer that he watched. He knew that it was wrong, but for some reason he just couldn’t look away. he couldn’t see your face he could just see you being eaten out from the distance. His heart was pounding, trying to keep his breath at a minimum. His pants were getting tighter by the second to the point it was nearly painful, but wouldn’t be wrong to touch himself watching his two friends have sex? More thoughts were flooding into his mind. Things he would never think of before. Like what if it was him eating you out instead? Him being the one to give you pleasure, to make you moan and scream. But for now, just watching you receive pleasure was enough for him as his hands begin to lift and beyond the elastic of his shorts. He watched as Noah changed positions and had you on top.

You peel the shirt off of your body and toss it to the side as you adjust yourself to sink onto his hard dick. The sweetness of the stretch in the, fullness you felt in your lower stomach. Something about being out in a camping site, with his friends nearby, sleeping in their tents, made your body shiver in pleasure. Not necessarily to be watched, but the risk of being caught ignite something in your chest. You look down to see Noah with his eyebrows nipped together feeling the pleasure of your pussy constrict around him. You move your hips back-and-forth grinding your clit against his pubic bone as his dick stretched, and filled you, rubbing against your spot. You were seeing more than stars at this point. It was pure ecstasy, running through your body.

“Fuck princess… so tight and wet.” he whispers, obviously struggling to keep his voice down. “ do you like this? do you like when I fuck you outside, knowing there are people around? Such a little slut…but,” he comes up from his position to sit and come close your ear and whisper “ you’re my slut. My dirty little princess.” His hand, grabbed at your ass as he guides you up and down his cock. His mouth working at your collarbone, leaving bite marks, and bruises. your feet now planted on the ground as you walked back-and-forth against each other. The slight clap of skin against skin filled the quiet night air period the only other noise to be heard was the cracking of the fire. Just over your shoulder he had noticed something in the distance. Could it be possible that another pair of eyes were watching? You simply closed his eyes and came down to your nibble and began to suck and laugh at the sensitive skin.

“Yeah…right there, Noah” you pant “ So fucking good”

All of a sudden he pulls out of you, causing a wine to slip from your lips, losing the feeling of fullness and stretch. He turns you around and pushes your shoulders down onto the ground of the tent. The sliver of light that crept into your tent, making your body look celestial in the glow of the fire. He lines himself up and pushes the tip slowly before he bottoms out in one thrust into you. One reason he loved doggy was the primal feeling in his chest. Much less being out in the forest he felt like this is what you were meant to do. Find your person and marking them as yours and just fill them over and over again. Something about it just felt so natural and primal. If it weren’t for the extra people that were with you, he would have you screaming your head off.

He leans back as he watches himself pump in and out of you. Watching you take all of him, inch by inch your body arching more towards him, wanting to feel more of him. It made his cock harder and pulse each time, his large hand massaged the flesh of your ass so badly to spank you, but knowing that you would definitely wake everyone up. His body comes down until his chest molds with the arch of your back. His lips brush against the shell of your ear as he says

“ who does this pussy belong to?” he asked.

“Y-you..” you whimper out as his hips give slow short, thrust, extending, and prolonging the pleasure that you were chasing

“ say it baby,” he growls “ see how much you like being fucked and people know the only I can fuck you this good”

“I… I love it Noah” you squeal trying to keep your voice down, feeling your throat ache, wanting so badly to moan out “ I love it so much”

Nicks hand was coated with pre-cum as his hand quickly pumps up and down his deck. He could see your ass ripple with each thrust in the glow of the fire. each thrust your body jump and arch with pleasure. He just wish that he could see how your face twisted and pleasure. The way your mouth fell open when you were close. Fuck! This was so wrong!...but...but why does it feel so good? He's never felt so hard in his hand, never felt so good.

“Yeah baby…take it…take it” he huffs as his hand leaves your body and locks his fingers with yours and squeezed tightly. He ruts against you as he stutters and bites down on your shoulder to surpressed his own noises.

“Where..where?” He asked feeling himself close to cumming. He straightens himself again and gives you the last few hard thrusts. His eyes no longer on you but through the tent crack and gave a smirk, knowing damn well someone had enjoyed their night with a free show. Now most would think this wasn't ideal but in Noah's mind his first thought was

"that's right...all you can do is watch but never touch"

“I-inside…aahhh” you whine

He pounds into you with a few short but strong thrusts and spills into your pussy. Your walls milking and pulsing around him sweetly.

you shake as an orgasm rattles through your body, shaking your to your core. Your ass shivers against his hips as he pushes you over the edge. The lightheadedness, the tightness of your stomach, the way you pulse around him, the warmth that oozed out. He pulled out slowly and grabbed his shirt to clean you up. Pulling his shorts up again he helps to find yours and opens his arms for you to lay in

"Think you can sleep now?" he chuckles against your hair "little minx"

"hey!" you giggle "you like it when I'm a minx" you fire back

"I like you even if you weren't one" he kissed your head "Now go to sleep before someone gets up and asks why we're outta breath"

Nick sat in his tent, steamy and hot staring at his hand and the mess he had made. He couldn't believe what he had just done and how it had ended (lol post nut clarity). He cleans off his hand and plops back down on his sleeping back and stared through the see through room of this tent.

"fuck..." was all he could say when he processed what happened. Getting off to what he saw, fantasizing about you, and worse

Noah catching him and smirking at him! Tomorow morning was sure to be interesting.

「✨Taglist✨」 @lilhobgobbler @cncohshit @vir-tual @tdopomymind @concretenoah @misspygmypie @fvckmeorchokeme @lust-for-sacher @thescarlettvvitch @cind6547 @itsmrsfuentes @purple-lili @ima1986

[mca-attack21]

Love Can Hurt (Jeremiah x Conklin Reader)

A/N: There are season 1/2 spoilers

It was rare that you came to see Susannah on your own, usually you were with your mom. You came to visit more often than Steven or Belly, both because you wanted to see Susannah and because you wanted to check in on Jeremiah. Last summer had put him in a weird spot with Conrad and Belly, so you made a point to be there for him. At least that’s what you told yourself. The truth is you have always gone out of your way for Jeremiah. So of course, you came when he asked if you could stay with his mom during homecoming, even if the phone call broke your heart.

“Hey Y/n/n, how are you doing?”

“I’m alright Jere, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just have a question for you.”

“Of course.”

“Homecoming is this Saturday-” you could not believe what you were hearing, Jeremiah Fisher - the boy you’ve dreamed about being with was actually, “I was planning to go with Blake, but I don’t want to leave my mom home alone. We might get a hotel room. I was hoping you could come stay the weekend. She always loves seeing you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You had to take a second before answering so your voice wouldn’t give you away. “Of course Jere, you deserve a night to be a normal teenager without the weight of the world on your shoulders. I’ll come up Friday after school.”

“Oh my god, you’re the best. I’ll totally owe you one.”

“It’s no problem Jere, I’ll see you Friday.” You hurriedly end the call, pulling your knees to your chest. Losing the fight to keep your tears at bay. Sometimes you wished you could stop loving him. 

You walked in the door with groceries and set them on the counter. Every time you visited, you would restock the cabinets and fridge. It used to be Susannah who would make sure everyone’s favorites were in the house. It was a small thing, but you felt like it was the least you could do. You went to check in on her, but she was sleeping so you decided to let her rest. You peek in Jeremiah’s room, straightening it up a bit and making his bed. He would be home soon, so you started to make him his favorite dinner.

You don’t know exactly when it happened, that you fell for him. Jeremiah always cared so much about the people around him, he was the most charismatic person you had ever met. He had this energy about him that illuminated any room he was in. Since he found out about his mom, that sparkle dimmed ever so slightly. No one seemed to really notice the toll that all of this was taking on him, except you. You could see through the fake smiles, to the sadness, stress, and fear. You tried to be there for him as much as he would let you. You comforted him through the pain Belly caused, took as much off his shoulders as you could, but you wished there was more you could do. 

You were so deep in your thoughts, you hadn’t even heard him come in. “Y/n?” he called out. 

“In the kitchen Jere.” 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his head in the crook of your neck. “That smells delicious, I’m gonna head up and take a shower, check on mom, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” 

The two of you ate together, catching up. He told you about being nominated homecoming king, which didn’t surprise you at all. With some convincing you got Jere to let you take care of the receipts for the insurance companies while you were there. It was one more thing to take off his plate. When you were both done eating, you took care of the leftovers and did the dishes while he went off to play video games. 

The next day you spent most of your time with Susannah, who was having one of her better days. She was so excited to see Jeremiah going to Homecoming. You were doing fine with it all until his date arrived. 

“Y/n, can you do me a favor and go take pictures of Jere and Blake. I don’t want to scare them away,” she smiled. 

“Of course.”

You took her phone downstairs. Seeing him all dressed up, smiling, laughing, and excited brought mixed emotions. Of course you wanted him to be happy, but watching him with Blake reminded you of having to watch him with Belly this summer. There was a part of you that wished it was you. 

You took the photos, wished them both fun, and went back upstairs to watch movies with Susannah. Right away, she could tell something was off. Of course she could, sometimes you wondered if she knew you better than your own mother. 

“What’s on that brilliant mind of yours?” she asked, pausing the movie. 

“It’s nothing important,” you reply. 

“Of course it's important, because you are important.”

You didn’t know what to say, because you didn’t really know how to describe the way you were feeling without sounding pathetic. 

“This wouldn’t have something to do with Jeremiah, would it?” she asked knowingly. At the mention of his name, your strategic walls came crashing down, tears escaped your eyes. “Oh honey come here,” she said, opening her arms for a hug.

“It hurt to watch him fall for Belly and watch her toss him aside for Conrad and then it hurt tonight to see him so happy with someone else. And he’s my best friend so I get a front row ticket to watch all of it, I hear about every hookup, and I see everything that he tries to hide from everyone…”

“Oh sweetie.” She had always believed that you and Jeremiah were destined for each other the same way that Belly was destined for Conrad. It took her by surprise when Jeremiah admitted feelings for Belly, somehow, she’d missed how much it had affected you.

“Love can hurt sometimes, but that’s because it's real.”

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Do You Want Me, Cyar'ika [happy]

Dark!Din Djarin x Jedi!Female Reader

Warnings: HEY THIS IS DARK WATCH OUT, stalking, manhandling, slight choking if you kind of squint, dubcon (reader is willing, but is def under the influence of the darksaber), smut, hand job, mentions of blood and injury, mentions of permanent scarring of the reader

Word Count: 6,717

Summary: Din Djarin is a man who lost everything. His home, his son, his Creed. But at the end of the day, he still had you. He still had you, and he was determined to keep you. Part One: Ni Ceta, Cyar'ika Part Two: I Love You, Cyar'ika

[a/n: THIS IS THE HAPPY ENDING TO THIS TRILOGY. My suggestion is to read the version you really want first b/c the beginning half is the exact same. It's only the end that differs.]

.

"sometimes, you just need a fresh start. a new beginning. a clean slate. just get rid of everything going wrong and make it go right." -the importance of starting over

.

The echoing of your footsteps bounced off the walls and the quick pace seemed to match the racing of your heart. No looking back. You needed to get to the tarmac. Din was supposed to be in the war room with Bo Katan and the others in his council discussing something or another. This morning he had told you that he wouldn’t be able to meet you for lunch until a bit later in the afternoon. Half an hour after he had told you this, you grabbed your stuff and started running. 

You had the right idea months ago when you first tried to leave. This was going to be your last chance. If he caught you this time you don’t know that you’d ever get the chance to run away again. Memories of that beskar chain and anklet hung heavy in your mind as you picked up your pace. A terrifying thought occurred to you. Would he stop there? How far would Din go to keep you by his side? You truly believed, deep down, that Din wouldn’t hurt you, but… were you just being delusional? At some point, he’d consider the line to be crossed.

The tarmac was mostly empty. The few Mandalorians that were in the area gave you curious looks, but nobody dared stop you. That was a side effect of being ‘owned’ by the Mand’alor and though you found it disturbing previously it was truly working in your favor now. Everybody on this rock, save for a few people like Bo Katan, were too terrified of Din to even look in your direction for longer than a few seconds. As you sprinted to the closest ship you knew how to pilot, the Mandalorians began to disperse. You had a suffocating suspicion that they were in the process of calling Din.

You made it further than you had last time. You were on the ship, ramp closing behind you, and you clambered into the cockpit and got things running. As the ship slowly began to rise, you saw him. Din stood at the edge of the tarmac with his hands on his hips. The wind tunneling through the ship’s exhaust and down onto the ground below caused Din’s thick cape and hair to whip around. Even from this distance, you could feel Din’s gaze burning straight through you. The look on his face was haunting⏤ a mix of devastation and unbridled rage. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away. Even after the ship was in the atmosphere and Din was far out of view, you stared down at Mandalore in pain. Your chest ached as your heart already begun to miss the man you were running from.

Before allowing yourself to wallow, you input the coordinates to Tatooine and let the ship slip into hyperdrive. The second those all too familiar lines of blurred space cast a blue glow in the cockpit, you pulled your knees up into your chest to bury your face there. If somebody were to ask you the exact reason why tears streamed down your face you would not be able to give them an answer.

You just knew, everything was wrong.

You agonized over who to send a message to. As you drew ever near to Tatooine, doubts began to plague your mind. Should you reach out to Boba and Fennec? They were obvious choices because they cared about Din and they knew how to hold their own in a fight. However, you had a nagging fear at the back of your mind that would not silence. It blared like a ghostly siren. Din was not himself right now, and though you knew without a doubt that he would not hurt you, could the same be said for Boba and Fennec? Especially if they stood in the way of Din getting to you?

You hated that you were unsure of that.

You hated that a part of you honestly thought Din might hurt his friends or worse.

There was no changing course though. The best solution you had was to get in touch with Luke Skywalker. He might have answers about this. Even if he didn’t, having him and Ahsoka by your side would help. Three Jedi surely could get that cursed saber away from Din. Granted, there was no assurance that separating the saber from the love of your life would actually work, but it was all you had. It was the last bit of hope you could cling to. 

Upon your arrival to Tatooine, you immediately slunk away to a crowded cantina. You were not a fool. You knew Din was not just going to let you wander away and you knew he was one of the deadliest bounty hunters in the galaxy. He was very good at what he did⏤ especially when passionate about the mission. That didn’t leave you very much time to get the information you needed. 

You sent out a decoded distress message to the number Skywalker had left you when he took Grogu. He left it strictly for emergencies and this obviously classified as one. After it was out in the universe, all you could do was wait. So you saddled up to the bar, sat on a stool, and ordered a drink. It was all you could think to do. This was the first time in ages that you were in a space not clouded by Din’s presence. You hadn’t realized until now how suffocating it had been.

Being with Din, watching his slow descent, you had gotten accustomed to that cloud of darkness that hung over his head. To the point where you didn’t notice it worsening and worsening. It felt as if your body had acclimated to living under the ocean. Your body grew used to the crushing depths. Your lungs shriveled from the lack of oxygen. Your eyes grew blind from the absence of light. Now? Sitting at this dingy, dirty bar, it was as if someone had forced you up from the ocean floor and dragged you quickly up to the surface. It was jarring. The fresh air was painful as it filled your lungs, your eyes burned from the disappearance of darkness, and suddenly it was freedom that felt wrong. 

A sudden beeping made you glance down at the communicator. Eyes wide, you answered it, “Hello? Luke Skywalker?” Your name was spoken over the line in concern. “Thank the Maker. I⏤ Din and I are in trouble.”

“What has happened?”

“It’s…” You took in a slow breath and began to walk him through what was going on. You started with the moment he took Grogu and described every single downward step the two of you had taken with the saber in his possession. When you finished, your throat felt thick with emotion. “I got away, but he’ll be after me soon. I know it. Luke, I… I don’t know what to do. I just know I need help, and I’m too afraid to go to anybody other than you.”

“You were right to reach out to me.” Luke sighed. “This needs to be handled by us. No need to risk anyone else.”

The thought flickered through your head without warning. You were okay with putting Luke Skywalker and Ahsoka in danger. It came quickly and you swatted it away just as fast, but it felt like poison. Obviously, Boba and Fennec meant more to you than Luke and Ahsoka. You were closer to the first two. However, it still didn’t make risking the lives of the latter two okay. The fact that the belief attempted to nestle in your head reminded you of the dark saber. Your hand wrapped around your own lightsaber⏤ seeking comfort in the energy it radiated.

“You believe he’ll follow you, correct?” Luke questioned.

“Absolutely.” You answered without an ounce of hesitation.

Luke hummed on the other end of the line in thought. “I will send you coordinates. Come to us. The Mandalorian will follow and we will handle this from there. You just need to get here. Can you do that?”

“Yeah.” You nodded your head, trying to convince yourself. “I can. I’ll leave as soon as you send me those coordinates.”

“Of course. Call us again if you have trouble.”

“Thank you.”

The call ended and you threw back the remainder of the drink before rushing for the door. It would take fifteen minutes to get to the tarmac and you assumed you’d get the coordinates by then to use. The crowded Tatooine streets made you anxious. Shoulders clipped into yours as people rushed past you in the opposite direction. It felt like there were eyes burning into your skin, but every scan of the crowd told you it had to just be your paranoia. 

Your communicator beeped again and a quick glance down revealed the coordinates you’d be heading to. Good. You quickened your pace to turn a corner to the last leg of the path that would take you to the public tarmac when you spotted him. A flash of glinting silver under the hot Tatooine suns. Your feet came to a screeching halt, and for a moment the two of you stood stock still. Din was down the road. Closer to the tarmac’s entrance than to you. His hands rested on his hips, and he was helmetless. Even from this distance the darkness swimming in his brown eyes sent a chill down your spine. He had been a sight to behold in his full armor, a faceless figure of intimidation. However, you knew now that it was worse without the helmet. Actually seeing those burning eyes, rather than just feel them, made your stomach flip.

The crowd ebbed and flowed, a small group passing between the two of you, and when they passed fully Din was gone. You couldn’t see him. Without a second more of hesitation, you spun on your heel and sprinted in the opposite direction of where he had been standing. The public tarmac was a bust. You’d never be able to successfully route yourself back around, but you still needed a ship.

Peli’s shop. As soon as it came to mind, you altered course to head in that direction. You prayed that Peli wasn’t home. Hopefully she’d be out losing credits to a group of jawas in sabbac or conning some poor sap at the market. Your chest burned in the effort it took to keep your quick pace, your heart pounded painfully, and you could still feel Din’s eyes on you. Every time you glanced over your shoulder or down alleys there was no sign of silver, but you knew⏤ you just knew⏤ that he was hot on your heels somehow. 

You finally reached Peli’s shop and the garage was closed which meant she was not home, but you remembered the way in through the back. Peli had shown it to you and Din ages ago. Even if she didn’t have a client’s ship sitting in the bay, you could steal her land speeder and come up with a different plan from there. Once in, your eyes landed on a small ship parked in the main bay and your lips curled up into a relieved smile. Find the FOB, get the ship open and started. You rushed to Peli’s office and cursed the wrecked state it was in. Her baseline was chaotic and it showed in her organization choices. You dug through the mess until you found a FOB that seemed to match the ship waiting for you.

Victorious, you sprinted out of the office back down to the bay, but the second your feet stepped into the open area something hard slammed into you. The air was knocked from your lungs as you landed on the ground. Din’s features stared down at you as his body straddled yours. One of his gloved hands pinned down your dominant hand while the other clamped down on your throat⏤ not enough to restrict air, but just enough to convey his warning. You could see your fearful eyes reflected in the beskar covering him as he towered over you. Din’s face didn’t look angry or worried. He didn’t look scared or confused. Din looked cold. Emotionless. Somehow that was worse.

“Din⏤”

“Don’t.” Din said sharply. The fingers on your neck flexed once. “Don’t speak, cyar’ika.”

More suffocating than his demeanor and broad figure was the poisonous energy seeping out of the saber hung on his belt. You were drowning in it, struggling to keep your head above it’s dark waters, and Din was pushing you beneath the waves. He held you under. Din was a man drowning and in your attempt to rescue him he was dragging you to the depths as well. 

“How could you do this to me?” Din asked. His voice cracked⏤ the only sign of his pain. “Cyar’ika, you…” Din swallowed. A flash of heartbreak filled his expressive brown eyes and the degree of his hurt briefly made you feel guilty. Like you had been the one to betray him. “I love you. You are my everything. I would burn the world for you. How could⏤ How could you leave?”

“I never asked for you to burn the world for me, Din.” You whispered. “That’s not what I want.”

Din shifted and leaned down so he could rest his forehead against yours. His hand hung loosely around your throat, forearm pressed against your chest, and it was a position your body was familiar with. If you closed your eyes and gave into the darkness trying to claw its way down your throat and into your lungs, then you’d simply feel like you were sharing a private moment of intimacy with your love. Din’s lips suddenly ghosted against yours and you felt your body tremble.

“What is it you want?” Din begged. “I will give you anything. I just want you safe by my side.”

“I told you what I want, Din…”

Din sighed, his hot breath fanning across your lower face, “I can’t do that.” His voice was strained as if her were in agony. “The saber is how I protect you, cyar’ika.”

“You’re losing me because of that saber, baby.”

For the longest moment, Din remained silent. His eyes were closed and you could see him ruminating over something. After a second, he opened his eyes and Din’s eyebrows furrowed in defeat. A flicker of hope burned in your chest until he opened his mouth and spoke. 

“Things were okay. We just need to start from scratch again. I know you hated that chain, cyar’ika, but it’s for the best.” Din said softly and your eyes widened at how serious his words were. How much he believed that to truly be the best path. “It won’t be forever, I swear it. Just until I trust you again.”

“Din⏤”

“No.” Din snapped. His soft despair turning to a firm demand. “There will be no argument. I’m taking you home.” You opened your mouth once more, but Din’s fingers began to tighten around your throat marginally. “You’re already in trouble, cyar’ika. Don’t make it worse.”

Panic began to make your heart race. You were sinking fast and the light was beginning to disappear from your sight⏤ your freedom with it. In a poor attempt at a final chance of survival, you spoke up despite his order to stay silent. “I just wanted to say sorry.”

Din scoffed. “You understand why I find it hard to believe you.”

“I know.” You nodded. “Please, baby. I’m sorry. Please believe me. You know I love you.”

You could feel Din’s thumb around your neck tracing the skin under it as he stared down at you. He took in a deep breath and leaned in to press his forehead against yours once more. Din brushed his lips lightly against yours. “You’re always so pretty when you beg, cyar’ika.” That was the one thing you had working in your favor. Din always had a hard time telling you ‘no’ when your bodies were folded together like this. “I’ll hear you out, but let’s get to our ship first.”

“Why not now? Let me tell you how sorry I am, Din.” You begged and he let out a soft sigh as his eyes closed. Your eyes darted to the saber on his belt. If you ended up back on Mandalore it would be over. There would be no second chance. Determined, you rolled your hips up and just as you suspected you were met with the firmness of his half hard cock. Din groaned. “Let me show you how sorry I am.” Your non-dominant hand had been clutching at the hand he had at your throat, but you very slowly let it travel up his arm to bury in his soft hair. “Please, baby.”

You tilted your head up as much as you could with Din’s hand clamped around your neck. Carefully, in fear that too quick or sudden a movement would break the spell, you began to pull Din down closer. Din hesitated against the slight force of your hand only for a second before he slotted his lips against yours. As always, Din’s touch set you aflame. He released the wrist he had pinned and hooked that hand under your thigh to spread your legs so he could settle between them rather than straddle you. You should be focused on escape alone, but the taste of him made you hungry for more. You weren’t sure how much was your love for Din and how much was the saber twisting it into something recognizable. 

Din’s teeth caught your lower lip, and he pulled back a breath, “You’re supposed to be showing me how sorry you are, cyar’ika.” He leaned back down to lick into your mouth, his kiss crushing and near painful as Din’s hips pressed firmly against yours. He left his lips close enough that you felt every word he spoke. “Yet here I am…” Din gave a sharp thrust and even with layers of clothes between the two of you he was able to snap the bulge of his erection right where your clit was hidden. You gasped at the pleasure that rocketed up your spine as hot pangs arousal pooled in your lower belly. “...doing all the damn work.”

At his words, you closed the space to press your lips against his again, deepening the kiss, as your hands traveled to his belt. You undid his belt with practiced ease, and while one hand slipped under the waistband of his flight suit to find the base of his cock the other went to grasp the saber.

Your fingers brushed against the thrumming metal of the saber for only a second before Din’s hand slapped on top of yours pinning it to the saber. Everything froze. Din and you were both panting, breathless from your kiss. You had one hand stuffed into his pants with your hand pressed against his skin on the space above the base of his cock and the other on the saber. Din had one hand tightening around your neck while his other crushed your fingers against the darksaber. He chuckled and the sound sent chills throughout your body.

“Let go, Cyar’ika.” Din’s voice was gruff and seemed to rumble out from his chest. You began to try and pull both hands back, but Din grunted. “Not both. Just the saber.” You sucked in a sharp breath and remained frozen. “What? You don’t want to finish what you started?” He shoved one hand down his pants to roughly grab yours and force your hand to wrap around the entirety of his throbbing cock. It was like this tense moment was spurning him onwards⏤ filling him with a thrill you had never seen before. “I thought you were sorry.”

You hated how his words made your own core ache with want. 

Din snapped the saber off his belt tossed it off to the side. Too far for you too reach, but close enough that its influence weighed heavy on you still. He did the same to your own weapon which was hooked in its usual place on your belt. Din threw that one further, more carelessly, before lowering his face back down toward yours. His hand was still wrapped around yours, and Din thrusted into your dry grip. It couldn't be comfortable you thought, but Din moaned in your ear as if it were already drunk in pleasure.

“Din…” You murmured.

His hot mouth enveloped yours, tongue licking into you, as he thrusted twice more. Din’s teeth caught your lower lip again, but this time he bit down hard enough that the taste of metallic blood flashed across your taste buds. You yelped, he thrusted into your grip, and then Din pulled back just enough that you could see his lips painted with the red of your own blood.

“Are you going to make me take you?” He asked in a harsh whisper. “Or will you come willingly?” Din pressed his bloodstained lips against the side of your face, dragging, and you shuddered as a cold, but tempting, chill filled your body. “I’ll spend eternity chasing you, cyar’ika, but it will be more enjoyable if you just agree to be mine again.”

His lips found yours once more, and for one second you weren’t in your body. Your mind clouded with a sort of vision. You saw Din sitting on Mandalore’s throne splattered with blood he had drawn from others and his features masked in a cold indifference. The saber was not on his belt, but any confusion you had on it’s location faded as a different version of you came into view. She wore an elegant and revealing gown that was as dark as a starless night, and the inactive saber was held tight in her grip as blood covered her hands and left a trail of red petals as she passed. While Din’s face held a cold indifference this version of you looked feral with enjoyment. 

She settled herself on Din’s lap and the mask he wore cracked to reveal adoration as he stared up at this other you in awe. Without wasting a beat, this unrecognizable version of yourself pulled Din into a firm kiss. The blood on the hands that resembled yours smeared against his stainless beskar, and the blood on his face left smears along features you spent your entire life staring at in a mirror. Suddenly, the other you broke away to turn and it seemed she was glaring directly at you.

The saber in her hand activated and burned with a soul sucking energy that seemed to draw you in.

“Be mine.” Din’s voice snapped you back into the moment. “Be my queen, cyar’ika. I want no else.” He pressed his lips to yours again but in a way that was too soft to match the rest of this situation. The tip of his tongue dragged through the torn tissue of your lower lip and you shivered. “Let me protect you as you rule by my side.”

And you wanted it. It was like your body had finally reached the lowest depths and your lungs were filling with the dark water you were drowning in. It was almost peaceful allowing yourself to settle into the cold⏤ allowing it to swallow you whole. Distantly, you could feel the crystal in your lightsaber desperately calling out to you, but you were certain no light could reach you where you were. Cold turned to pleasure as Din’s hands began to map the familiar planes of your body. 

“I’ve always been yours.” You whispered. Din molded his lips to yours and he pulled your hand out from where it was hidden under his waistband so he could have to room and access to begin frantically undoing your own belt. You lifted your hips so he could tug your pants down past your ass and off entirely. He didn’t bother with his own pants, deciding to just tug them down enough to be useful, and  Din settled between your legs. As he worked himself out of his pants he planted his lips against the hollow of your neck.

You tilted your chin up, panting, as you gave him more room to work his tongue against the skin there. Every atom of your being was throbbing and aching for the man on top of you, but briefly a glimmer of pain lanced through your heart. A reminder. You thought you were too deep in for the light to reach you, but your lightsaber’s call managed one faint echo. A weak lifeline back to the surface. Without thinking, your hand reached reached out to where the sabers were cast aside and for the first time in your life you felt the Force do more than just read an energy. It enveloped the space around you and seconds later something firm was in the palm of your hand.

You cried out, managing to roll Din and yourself over so you now straddled him. The saber activated in your hand and rather than the warm familiar glow you wanted, you were greeted by the soul sucking, burning energy of the darksaber lighting up in your hands. Your eyes widened in alarm. The power that washed over you was overwhelming. It rocketed up your arm and pierced your very soul. Din laid on the ground under you as you stared at the cold glow of the saber burning in your hands, and you heard him begin to laugh in amusement. 

“Maker, you’ve never looked prettier, cyar’ika.” Din grinned⏤ the look in his dark eyes was wild with desire. “How does it feel?”

Your skin was crawling as if someone was holding a live wire to it. A tremor shook your body and it took you a moment to detangle your mind away from the raw pleasure that screamed out to you. The darksaber was sinking it’s cold claws into every aspect of who you were and you could feel your reality slipping away from you. You tightened your hand around the hilt and began to squeeze. It was hard to focus the Force to bend to your will with the darksaber’s influence pressing down on you, but you clenched your teeth and squeezed harder. The crack of bending metal filled the air.

“No.” Din growled and his hands roughly pawed at you, to try and take the saber from your grip, but you raised your hands up above your head and continued to squeeze until you felt actual pain began to seep into your body. “Stop! Don’t!” 

The metal cracked further, heat began to lick out of the hilt as the saber’s burning energy flickered and grew wild. It was burning your hands, leaving the flesh it touched raw. Din screamed out at you to stop again, but you couldn’t hear him over the high pitched ringing the darksaber’s kyber crystal seemed to emit. The saber was angry⏤ the saber was scared. You focused every bit of your body’s energy to channel the Force. You screamed in agony as the saber was crushed under your grip. The crystal cracked and the energy stored in it grew volatile and unstable. With one final push of power, the crystal shattered into pieces within the crushed hilt of the saber and the release of energy blew you backwards into the dirt. 

Your ears from ringing from the blast. Your head ached painfully, you could feel blood matted in your hair from where the back of your head had slammed into the ground, but it was hard to focus on anything other than the miserable and excruciating pain that was radiating up your arms. Shakily, you lifted your hands up to try and examine them. Even though your sight was growing blurry, you could still make out the state of your hands. Scorched flesh, raw and torn, greeted you and warm blood was dripping from the spots where jagged bits of kyber crystal embedded in your skin. It rained down on you.

“No, no, no, no.”

Din was suddenly in your line of vision as he cupped the side of your face in fear and disbelief. Your hands, heavy with exhaustion, fell limp and they didn’t even hurt much anymore. You were having trouble feeling anything actually. “Please, Maker, no.” Din gasped. His voice was ragged and hoarse. Tears were swimming in his eyes and for the first time in ages, you recognized the clarity. “Cyar’ika, no, please…”

Your lips twitched up in a smile as you gazed up at him. You sighed in relief, “It’s you.” Din’s face crumpled as the tears streaked down his cheeks as he tried to pull you closer. “You’re back, baby.”

His voice seemed far away. As your eyelids grew heavy, you still felt content. If these were to be your last moments you were more than happy to share them with Din Djarin. Your Din Djarin. Pure and kind hearted. Loving and soft. Darkness seemed to envelope you, but it was not the cold darkness the saber used to force you into. This was warm and tender. You felt enveloped in love and your own kyber crystal, loyal and strong, whispered a lullaby as you relaxed into sleep.

.

[three months later]

.

It took you ages to find Din. After waking up in Boba’s palace, post bacta tank infusion, you realized he had slipped away without a word. Boba and Fennec had comforted you, but the only message Din left you was a soft apology passed down along friends. The fact that he hid from you was proof enough that the darksaber’s influence was gone from him. You felt it no longer either. Occasionally, you’d wake from a nightmare and a lingering darkness would cloud your thoughts, but it always dissipated with the morning light. 

You walked slowly toward the bench where he sat armorless. Din wasn’t wearing a shred of beskar, had not a single weapon on him, as he rested his elbows on his knees and stared into the distance where rolling hills and mountains sat. What made him hard to track was he stayed constantly on the move, but you were surprised that this was where he allowed you to catch up with him. You stopped by his side, Din didn’t turn to look at you, and you followed his gaze to see Grogu far in the distance sitting with Luke Skywalker on the crest of a small mountain.

“I don’t know why I came here.” Din mumbled quietly. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Din⏤”

“I don’t deserve to be here.” He added. Din hung his head down and lifted his hands to rub at his face in exhaustion. He shook his head once. “I was supposed to leave before your ship ever entered the atmosphere, but I… I got stuck.”

That made more sense. In a moment of weakness, he stopped to see his son and he hadn’t been able to tear himself away to flee you like he usually did. You reached out to touch his shoulder, but your fingers only managed to graze his shirt before he pushed to stand began to stalk away.

“Din!” You cried out and followed his brisk pace. He walked back to where his small ship at waiting. “Din, please, wait.”

“Leave, cyar’ika.” Din replied firmly.

“No.” You snapped and raced up the ramp into his ship’s tiny cargo hold to slide into his path to stop him. You expected to see anger in his eyes from your disruption, but the only emotion his large brown eyes conveyed was pain and desperation. You felt your heart ache at the way he stared down at you in misery. You shook your head. “Din, will you please talk to me?”

Din swallowed, his voice was hoarse, “There is nothing to talk about.” 

You reached out to rest your hands on his chest, and he glanced down to stare at them. The bacta tank had saved your hands and left you with full use of them, but the scarring remained. The skin was discolored with burn scars and jagged lines where kyber crystals had pierced your skin and left their mark. 

“This wasn’t your fault, baby.” You whispered as you noticed how intently he was staring at your hands. Din shook his head and tried to pull away from your touch but you tightened your hands into fists⏤ clutching his shirt like a lifeline. “Din, I don’t blame you.”

“You should!” Din suddenly yelled and your eyes widened. His hands wrapped around your wrists as he held your gaze. His voice shook. “You should blame me.” Din took in a sharp gasp. “This was all my fault. I was weak.”

“Din.”

“I remember it all.” Din closed his eyes in agony. “Maker, I⏤ I was manhandled you. I chained you to the fucking wall. Held you hostage.”

“Din⏤”

“Hunted you down like a bounty. Forced you into the position where you had to use your body just to distract me so you⏤ I⏤ Maker. Even if you don’t blame me, cyar’ika, I do. I don’t deserve access to my weapons. I don’t deserve the armor of a Mandalorian. I don’t deserve you.”

You held onto him tighter as he tried to pull your hands away from him. “I love you, Din.” He scoffed. “I do. I love you. The darksaber was to blame for all of that and I stayed by your side because I knew that and I refused to lose you to it. I stayed knowing the risk.” Din’s eyes were still shut tightly, but you could see tears collect in his eyelashes. “And I can’t lose you now.”

“Cyar’ika…” He mumbled.

“Open your eyes.” You demanded. You released his shirt but only so you could cup his face with your hands. Din’s entire body trembled under your touch and his hands squeezed your wrists. “Baby, open your eyes and look at me.” Finally, after an agonizing moment, Din opened his eyes and you offered him a small smile. “I love you.” He let out a shaky gasp. “And I can’t sit idly by while you punish yourself for sins that you shouldn’t have to bear. Please don’t run from me. Please let me stay. I’ll keep following you all over the galaxy if I have to or⏤ or if you don’t want me then I’ll… I’ll stop. If that’s what you really want, then I won’t follow.” Din leaned into your touch. “I’m not trying to control or torture you with my presence, I just… I miss you, baby.”

Din closed his eyes again and loosened his grip on your wrists so he could trace them up and lay them over your smaller hands resting on his jaw. He sighed. “I hurt you.” His thumbs traced the scarred skin on the back of your hands. “I did this to you.”

“No, you didn’t. The darksaber did, and I chose to fight that damned thing.”

“If I had been stronger against it then you never would’ve had to.”

“You had no way of knowing, Din.” You shook your head. “It even took me a while to realize how dangerous that saber was and I’m Force sensitive. Nobody in the galaxy would have been able to resist the influence of that kyber crystal even if they knew what it could do. You were blindsided by it.”

Din opened his eyes. “You resisted against it.”

You pressed your lips together then pulled his face toward yours so his forehead was resting against yours. “I knew what it was doing, and it was still the hardest thing I have ever done.” You admitted. “Even now I still feel that darkness crawling across my skin in the dead of the night. Like a ghost haunting me.” You tightened your grip on his jaw. “But you know how I did it?” Din didn’t respond, but you pressed onward. “I did it because I wasn’t going to let anything take you from me. I was not going to let it keep your soul⏤ I was not going to lose you.” Quickly, you pushed forward a pressed a chaste lip to his lips. “Not then. Not now. I will always fight for you. Even if it’s your own guilt I have to fight.”

“Do you want me, cyar’ika?” Din whispered⏤ his voice so soft and faint you almost thought you imagined it. 

You caressed your thumbs against his cheekbones. “I will always want you, baby. Always.”

To prove your point, you tenderly slotted your lips against his. You stayed motionless, just holding him to you, and you could feel a tear trace the outline of your thumb before reaching his lips. It was as if the taste of his salty tear awakened something in him. Din’s mouth began to move against yours desperately. You shifted your hands down and around his neck to cling to him. Din’s own arms wrapped tightly around your torso so he could pull you flush against his body. 

His lips suddenly left your lips to press sloppy, desperate kisses against your jawline then down your neck. Between every touch of his lips against your skin he whispered an apology or an exclamation of love. You tried to drag his lips back up to yours, but he surprised you by falling to his knees. You gasped and stared down at him. Din rested on his heels as his hands hugged the back of your thighs. He stared up at you in adoration, but you could still see agony there as well.

“I am so sorry.” He pleaded like a man begging in prayer at an altar. “I love you, and I am so sorry. I could spend an eternity reminding you of that and it still would not be enough to express how I feel.” Din leaned forward and rest his forehead against your hip. “Ni cuy’ nass ures gar. Ni cuy’ osi’yaim. Ni cuy’ hut’uun.”

You slowly peeled his forehead away from your hip and his hands off your thighs so you could kneel in front of him as well. You held his face once more and wiped away the lingering tears that stained his cheeks. “Cin vhetin.” Din’s eyes widened at the words. A phrase you had Boba teach you. “That’s what I want.”

“Cyar’ika…”

“I hate seeing you speak so poorly of yourself.” Your bottom lip quivered and your throat felt thick. “It pains me to watch you hate yourself⏤ when I love you so much.” Din sucked in a sharp breath. “So, if you love me still, Din, that’s what you’ll give me. Cin vhetin.”

Din paused before he gave you a curt nod. You pulled him into a tight hug, arms clinging to his shoulders, and you were relieved to feel Din hold you just as securely. As if you were both terrified to feel the other slip away again.

.

[three months later]

.

You woke with a start, eyes snapping open in the dark of your bedroom, and the cold, cruel ghost of the darksaber gripped your spine. It crawled up slowly as you tried to push away the lingering nightmare and piece together your reality. The bed under you shifted as someone climbed in beside you. A heavy hand slipped over your abdomen as Din shifted his closer. His bare chest pressed tightly against your back as he held you close.

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” Din whispered in your ear, voice heavy with sleep. “Grogu woke up wanting a glass of water.” That was your reality. You had the love of your life back, and the green boy you and Din both adopted as your own was back in your lives. You, and the ones you loved, were nestled in your cozy home on Nevarro. Din’s lips pressed against your neck. “Riduur?” The new nickname a reminder of the peace that came with your reality. “Are you alright?”

The warmth of his skin against yours cast away the chill the memory of the darksaber brought. One of his bare, thick thighs slid between your legs until every part of you was tangled with every part of him. You let out a soft sigh of content and nodded. “I’ve never been better, baby.”

Din peppered soft kisses against your shoulders and you fell asleep safe in his arms.

.

mando'a translations:

Ni cuy’ nass ures gar: I am nothing without you. Ni cuy’ osi’yaim: I am a despicable person. Ni cuy’ hut’uun: I am a coward. Cin Vhetin: fresh start, clean slate (term indicating the erasing of a person's past when they become Mandalorian, and that they will only be judged by what they do from that point onwards)

.

[here is the dark ending]

[peaky-shelby]

Say My Name Three Times | Kylian Mbappè

Pairing: kylian x reader

Series: Take Me On The Field

Request: Heyy, can I have a Kylian Mbappe request maybe they’re at a game of his and she goes to surprise him, she’s his girlfriend and an actress they haven’t seen each other in a month

Writer's note: this is the first story of the take me on the Field series. send in requests for our favorite players. You can check my prompt lists here.

When I reached Qatar I was praying to everything holy for no one would recognize me. So far I had done a great job at convincing Kylian that I wasn’t going to make it to the final because of reshoots for the new project. The thing I loved most about him was that he didn’t even get mad about it. We were the exception of the rule that footballers dating actresses never ended happily. We both understood each other’s busy schedules, even when it wasn’t in our favor.

Of course the fact that he didn’t get mad didn’t mean that he didn’t complain. He wanted me there as much as I wanted to be there and it was eating us both alive. When I got the ok two days ago to leave the movie set I decided to surprise him, instead of telling and giving him a boost of confidence from the sidelines.

The hat covered most of my facial futures, along with my eye vision which was the reason I bumped into about 20 guys wearing Messi’s shirt. But thankfully my mask hid the rest of my face, as did my black as night sunglasses. To mix with the crowd I was wearing one of Kylian’s jersey’s and an old pair of sweatpants. Nothing about me was screaming celebrity, which was exactly the way I liked it.

The only one helping me with everything and knew I was coming was Giroud. He had spoken to the drivers, so one of them would be waiting for me. On the way to the French base, I stared out of my window, at the people, dressed and blue and white or in dark blue carrying the french flag over their heads. I smiled, truth was, kylian or not, football had been a part of me since I was a kid, the view made me emotional. When we reached the French base, the team had already left for the stadium. One of Giroud’s assistant was waiting for me on the foyer.

“Bonjour Mademoiselle!” he exclaimed when he saw me. He dealt with the security and helped me find my way to kylian’s room. All the way to his room, he’d mumble about how happy he was the Giroud has trusted him with this mission. I laughed at his excitement and thanked him a bunch for his help. When we got inside it instantly felt like home as Kylian’s perfume filled all my senses and I almost snuck in the bathroom expecting to find him by the mirror, shaving. I left my stuff next to the bed, as I raised my head I noticed he had a picture of us by his nightstand. I must have stood there looking at it for a long time because Giroud’s assistant, patted me on the shoudler “We have to go Mademoiselle!”

I nodded quickly, picked just my scarf with the French’s team’s logo, my phone and my jacket and ran outside with him. Everything else happened too quickly, the drive to the stadium, sneaking in with Giroud’s passes and all the way to the dressing rooms my phone was buzzing with Mbappe’s picture. I stopped just right outside the dressing room, smiling at myself. Giroud’s assistant looked at me confused as I answered the call.

“Babe! Où étais-tu ?” he asked, stressed, before I even had time to say anything.

“Je suis désolé! I got caught up at work! Has the came started?”

“Non!” I could hear the nerves in his voice. “Two minutes before we go out! I need your good luck!” While he was speaking I peaked through the door of the dressing room, all the boys were there sitting on their benches. Talking, laughing, putting on their uniforms. Mbappe on the other hand wasn’t there at all.

“You have all my good luck! You know that!”

“HEY! KYLIAN! JE DOIS ALLER AUX TOILETTES, MEC ! SORTEZ !” I heard somebody yelling through the phone.

“FUCK OFF ! Je parle avec ma copine!” he said shot back, my heart sinking when he called his girl. It sounded beautiful in any language he’d say it. I finally walked in the dressing room, everybody started exclaiming until I shushed them with my finger “You shouldn’t be talking to your teammates like the kyky!” I walked behind the benches, high fiving giroud as I passed him and got to the hall that led to the toilet. Tchouameni was knocking on the bathroom door. I guessed Kylian must have been inside.

“They shouldn’t be interrupting me when I’m talking to you.”

I patted Tchouameni on the shoulder. He jumped and covered his mouth when he saw me, he was as shocked as I hoped Kylian would be. I tilted my head to signal him to away for a moment and I got closer to the door. I could swear my heart was tied with Kylian’s because the closer I would get the more I felt it beat, like it wanted to jump out of my chest and right into his hands. I leaned on the door.

“If they gotta pee, the gotta pee Kyky!”

“Can I face time you?”

I smiled “I don’t have time. I have to go meet somebody.”

I heard him sigh and curse. I imagined him covering the microphone because I only heard it through the door, the he said on the microphone. “I really wish you were here, mon cheri!”

“Say my name three times, I might appear out of nowhere.”

He did it without thinking, he’d believe in anything if it could get me to be where he was. I laughed and knocked on the door.

“Putain de merde ! Laisse-moi tranquille Tchouameni!” He yelled, making me laugh again! So I knocked, with my palm, loud, like I was his teammate in need of the toilet. “PUTAIN!” He yelled and I heard him stand up, my heart reaching the speed of an airplane about to lift off. I heard him unlock, my breath becoming so stiff I thought I would choke right then and there and then-

“Merde Ts-“ he stopped. His eyes starring blankly at me, his voice eaten, his body frozen. I thought he was on facetime and the connection had fallen as it usually did and he was gonna stay like that for the next hour. I was scared to even touch him, as if he would reload and disappear completely. Then he spoke, relief filled my lungs, he was real. “Merde..” he said, this time softer, this time like a prayer. He didn’t even waste any time to put his phone back on his pocket, he just let it slip off his hand and wrapped his arms around me, lighting me up. I tied my legs around his waste, hiding my face in the crook of his neck, taking In his perfume and his skin. A drug I had long missed. He spoke curses and muffled words in my hair, until I pulled my head back, just so I could look in his eyes. I smiled widely and kissed him, the way I’ve waited for a month. He walked until I was against the wall, still kissing me and holding me like I was part of him. It felt easy, it felt as it should be.

We pulled back to breath and I leaned my forehead against his, our eyes saying a thousand words as we stared into each other’s souls. He was smiling like a dork, I think I was too.

“Hi.” I whispered and he laughed. Still unable to believe this was real. He shook his head.

“You came.” He whispered, his one hand reach my cheek, stroking it. I leaned to his touch.

“You said my name three times” I whispered back, getting another laugh from him. Then his expression got serious, his eyes fell on me with lust burning out of them.

“I’d say your name every second of every day non stop if I have to.” He answered and leaned in to kiss me again, this time deeper. We were interrupted by someone flushing the toilet. We hadn’t even realized his teammate had walked passed us while we were reuniting. When he came out he gave us a teasing look. Kylian kicked him in the ass, cursing him and then we looked at each other, laughing. It was as it should be.

[tkwrites]

Better - Quinn Hughes x Sarah (ofc)

Photo from Pinterest

Title: Better

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah (OFC) 

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: Sequel to First Fight, Sarah meets Brady and Emma and is thrown into the world of hockey outside the rink. Jack and Luke hear about their relationship in a less than favorable way. 

Word Count: 3,000

Comments: I had so much fun writing the last little bit of this. It just flowed out like water. I hope you enjoy it. Also, I have a pretty basic understanding of cephalopods, and I have no idea if people do research like this with octopus, so please take it with a grain of salt. 

Let me know what you think and if there’s anything you’d like to see in their little universe! 

Better

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

They set up the dinner. Brady and Emma would come to Quinn’s for drinks before they went down the street to De Beppe, Quinn’s favorite Italian place in the city, which happened to be within walking distance of his apartment. 

Sarah was in one of the living room club chairs, looking so lovely. When he’d picked her up twenty minutes before, he’d lost his breath for a moment. She was in a dark green dress that sang against her skin, and pulled her eyes to a kind of teal blue. It accentuated her figure, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

He was setting things out at the bar, when she stood suddenly. Her low heels clicked on the hardwood floor as she walked to him. He didn’t try to hide his stare. 

“Pour me a shot." 

He laughed. 

“I’m serious, Quinn. Pour me a shot.” 

“I thought you don't like shots.” 

She’d been adamant about that at the movie theater when they’d been discussing which drinks to get. She liked something mixed, preferably fruity. 

“I don't,” she turned around and began to pace, “I’m just nervous and it’ll take the edge off.” 

Quinn walked around the bar and wrapped his arms around her. 

“You don’t need to be nervous,” he said, “Brady and Emma are great.” 

“They’re your first friends I’m meeting for real, like not just in passing. You’ve already met my roommates.” Her roommates weren’t really on the same par as Quinn’s childhood best friend, but they were the closest she had in the city. 

He hummed in agreement. “It’s going to be fine.” 

After fighting and making up, many of Quinn’s fears had been put to bed. He still wanted their opinion, but he felt more comfortable in his own decision now. She had pointed out something he did wrong without name calling, or tearing him down, and had taken responsibility - though she hadn't done much wrong - for her part in the argument. It was something June had never done. 

He ran his hand up and down her back trying to soothe her. The soft feel of her dress had him thinking about taking it off again. 

“You look really beautiful tonight,” he said, “did I tell you that?” 

“You did,” she said, smiling. 

He smelled especially good. It was possible that he smelled exactly the same as usual and her nerves were just heightening her senses.

Before he could follow through with kissing her, his phone trilled in his pocket. 

She started and then laughed at herself. 

He let them up and Sarah tugged at her dress before smoothing it over her hips. Internally, his knees buckled. 

The elevator dinged and Quinn opened the door. 

A very tall man walked in with a big smile and a big voice, “Quinner!” 

They hugged fiercely. She could tell they were best friends even if she hadn't known. It was sweet to watch their reunion.

A very pretty blonde stepped around them and walked to Sarah with a kind smile. “Hi, I'm Emma.” 

“Sarah,” she said, not sure if they should hug, or shake hands. She wished there was something between the two. 

“You must be Sarah,” Brady said, practically bounding over to her. 

She wondered how such a loud, happy, golden retriever of a man could be best friends with Quinn, who was happy, but quiet about it. 

“Can I hug you?” he asked, “we're huggers.” 

Laughing, she nodded and hugged him before embracing Emma. 

Leaving the girls to talk in the living room, Brady followed Quinn to the bar. “Dude,” he said quietly. 

Quinn felt himself smile. 

“Where did you even find her?” He knew the answer, of course. They'd talked for more than an hour the day before and Quinn had given him the lowdown on what had happened in their relationship thus far. 

“I know,” Quinn said. 

“Y’know,” Brady said, glancing over at her, “she looks a little like Jameson Grady.”

Jameson was the it girl Quinn had pined for in high school. Brady had seen all of those years and liked to bring them up frequently. 

“Yeah, I guess she does, a bit,” he agreed. He hadn’t noticed before, but they both had dark hair, light eyes and full hips. Sarah, however, was much kinder than Jameson had ever been. He couldn’t imagine a world where Sarah would laugh in someone's face if they asked her out. 

“Brady told me you work at the aquarium?” Emma asked as they looked over the harbor skyline.

“Yeah, I do research with one of the octopus there for my masters program.” Sarah said, “what do you do?” 

“Charity work, mostly,” she said with a big smile. “It’s difficult to have a consistent job with Brady’s schedule.” 

Sarah nodded, worry edging into her mind. Was she expected to give up her work for Quinn? Was that the good WAG thing to do? 

The boys came over then, Quinn with a rum cranberry for her. She couldn’t remember telling him it was her favorite drink. Maybe she’d rambled it at the bar on their first date. She was touched, he remembered. 

They talked for a while before their dinner reservation. The conversation soon devolved into Brady telling embarrassing stories about a fifteen year old Quinn living on his own for the first time while Quinn blushed and looked chagrined. 

“And then, before we knew it, there was butter all over the kitchen,” Brady said, making a huge exploding gesture with his arms. 

“In my defense,” Quinn said, holding up his hands, “I didn’t know I was supposed to unwrap it before.” 

Sarah giggled, but wondered how she would have survived moving away from home at fifteen. She barely handled the three hour move to college when she was eighteen. 

Walking to the restaurant in the cool spring mist, Quinn held Sarah’s hand and tried not to think about who might be watching them on the street. Being so obviously on a double date, he didn’t want to set the fangirls ablaze trying to figure out who Sarah was. June had such an online presence before they were together that fans had instantly glommed onto her. June had welcomed the new followers.

Sarah was far more private - he’d had to request to follow her on Instagram - and he didn’t want to throw her into something she didn’t want. 

They were seated at a table in the back corner of the restaurant. A few people watched them sit down, but true to Brady’s prediction, no one stopped them on their walk in.  

They ordered a bottle of wine and appetizers and settled in for a long evening meal. 

“Is it just me, or are those people staring at us?” Sarah asked Emma over her wine glass. 

Emma glanced over. “They are,” she said, matter of factly. 

“Why?” 

“They’re probably trying to figure out if Quinn is actually Quinn,” she said. 

“It’s so weird,” Sarah said, “I never would have guessed he would be considered famous.” 

Emma leveled a look at her that instantly made Sarah giggle, “He plays for a Canadian hockey team. It’s like religion up here.” 

“Do you think they’ll come over?” she asked. 

“Probably not. Most fans are pretty respectful. Every once in a while, someone will stop us on the street, but hardly ever in a restaurant. The hardest thing to get used to is the staring while people are trying to figure out if it's actually them.” 

“So, Sarah,” Brady cut in once Emma was done speaking, “tell us about your research.” 

“Oh,” she paused to take a sip of wine. “I’m studying cephalopod social dynamics, specifically in octopus. Even though Octopus don’t live in clusters, they’re the smartest of their genus, so they’re a little easier to study as they’re not so baseline limbic.” 

Brady stared at her. He’d always known Quinn was attracted to someone’s mind as well as their looks, but this was wild. She got this bright twinkle in her eyes as she spoke, and even though he had no idea what she was saying, he wanted to know more.  

“Can you say again in layman's terms?” he asked. 

“Oh, sorry,” she said, flushing a pretty shade of pink, “I get into research mode sometimes, and talk like I’m presenting at a conference. Basically, I study how octopus relate to things in their environment, including other octopus, fish and even me. Walter and I have formed a kind of friendship and I study how he reacts when I change something like my hair, or wear different perfume, or come into the research lab sad.” 

“He can tell all those things?” 

“Yeah. Octopus are extremely smart and aware of their surroundings. There are a few really interesting documentaries about people who live with or visit octopus for years and the bonds they form. Other cephalopods aren’t so aware, so they’re not as exciting to study.”  

The way Quinn looked at her while she talked spoke volumes to Brady. It was too soon for them to throw the word around, but love was on the horizon. 

“How does he tell you’re sad?” Emma asked. 

“Well, there are visual cues of course, but that’s one of the things I’m researching now. Octopus experience most of their world through their suction cups. They have nerves and taste buds in every one that are much more advanced than our own, so I’m forming a hypothesis asking if he can sense my mood via hormones on my skin. I’m also recording how he reacts generally. He tends to be more subdued when I am, and I’m not sure if he’s mirroring me, or trying to comfort me in some way.” 

“How do you even study that?” Brady asked. 

“Observation, mostly,” she said. “I’ve noticed that if I come into the lab happy, especially if I’m singing or if I say hello to him in an excited way, he races in his tank to greet me.” 

“That is so cool,” Emma said, “I had no idea they were so intelligent.” 

“I want to go through the aquarium with you so you can tell us about everything in there,” Brady said.

Sarah laughed, “ I don’t know about that. I know a lot of useless information about the ocean.” 

Brady glanced at Emma and they shared a private little conversation with their eyes. He was beaming when he looked at Quinn. 

“So, what do you do outside of hockey?”

“Can we go for gelato?” Emma asked when they left the restaurant. “I saw a place on the way here.” 

They agreed and started down the street. Brady hung back to walk with Sarah. Quinn took the hint and caught up with Emma. 

Sarah took a deep breath. She’d yet to have a one on one conversation with Brady. It was clear Quinn loved him a lot, and she wanted to make a good impression. Sated with good wine, an amazing meal and good conversation, she felt more comfortable than she had at the beginning of the night. She was instantly glad Brady waited until now to talk to her. 

“So, what do you think?” she asked. 

Brady appreciated that she didn’t beat around the bush. 

“I mean, I can tell you're better for him than any of his past girlfriends,” Brady said as they walked. 

“Really?” she asked. She hadn’t expected him to be so forthcoming right off the bat.

“Oh yeah. You're way more steady than June.”

“Who's June?”

Brady gulped. He probably shouldn't be the one revealing Quinn's dating history, but he liked Sarah, and he liked who Quinn was with Sarah. 

“His most recent girlfriend. They were on and off for like a year and a half. He called it off for good at the beginning of the season. She was a pretty standard NHL girlfriend: model, blonde,” he said.

"Standard?" her eyes flew wide as Sarah tried to talk herself down from the self doubt pouring into her system by the gallon. She couldn't be farther from a blonde model. 

Brady picked up on her distress right away, “oh I didn't mean…” he trailed off. “Shit, Sarah, I didn't mean anything by that. Just that she was kind of a blank slate. I hated her.”

“You did? Why?”

“I always felt like she was just dating Quinn for clout, to get her name out there, but he couldn’t ever see it. It turned into this whole thing. Emma and I both hated her. She was just so obsessed with herself and how she looked. And Quinn’s not like that, you know? He’d wear the same outfit every day if he could.” 

She snorted. Every time she saw Quinn, he was in a variation of three outfits: jeans and a jacket, athletic wear, or a game day suit. 

“It was just a bad match, but it took him a while to see that,” Brady said.

Sarah nodded. 

“Anyway,” Brady gestured widely. “All I’m saying is that I can tell you’re better for him than June, or any of the girls he dated in high school or college. You get him. And you compliment each other. And you're just nice and easy to talk to. I can tell you make him really happy." 

“That's so nice Brady, thank you. He makes me really happy." 

The wide grin Brady gave her in response made her feel all warm and mushy inside. It felt like reaching the top of a summit to gain Quinn's friends' trust. 

"Have you slept together?" Emma asked. 

Quinn shot a look at her, wide eyed and scandalized. 

She shoved his shoulder gently, "oh, come on. You know Brady wants to know. He won't ask you, so I said I would."

A laugh lit up his face. 

"So have you?" 

Cheeks flushing pink, Quinn nodded. 

"Was it good?" 

He'd wanted to tell someone about it, but sex wasn't really something he ever discussed with his friends. 

"So good," he admitted, "like, almost spiritual."

Her eyes widened, "on the first try?" 

"Technically the second," he corrected. "The first try was two strokes and done." 

She giggled, "don't tell him I told you but Brady was that same way our first time too." 

A few days later, Quinn was on the phone with Sarah when Jack called. He ignored it in favor of calling him back when they were done, but he called again right after. “Hey. I have to go,” he said, feeling panic edge into his consciousness, “Jack is calling me a bunch.” 

“Okay, I miss you,” she said. 

“I miss you, too.” 

Quinn answered the facetime call, “what’s wrong? Did something happen?” The last time Jack had called like this, Luke had been hurt. 

Jack was glaring into the phone, a perfectly healthy looking Luke sitting next to him on what looked like a hotel room couch. “Fuck yes, something happened.”

“What?” 

“I found out from Brady fucking Tkachuk that you have a girlfriend?” 

Fuck. 

They got together to call him at the same time? He was in some deep shit. 

“What the hell, Quinn?” Luke asked. 

“When did Brady tell you?” It was the wrong question, but he needed to know. 

“We play the Sens tomorrow, and he comes up to me in the practice facility today all, ‘what do you think of Sarah?’ and I was like, ‘who’s Sarah?’ and then he told me that she’s your fucking girlfriend!” Jack yelled. 

Luke leaned away from the noise with a wince.

Quinn grimaced. “Technically, she’s not my girlfriend,” he said. 

“Bullshit! You didn’t even tell us you were dating someone! I thought we were close, Quinn!” 

A heavy sigh moved Quinn's chest, “I just… I wanted to make sure before I told anyone else.” 

“Mom knows,” Luke cut in. 

Fuck. 

“I asked her and she said she knew you were dating someone, but didn’t know it was that serious.” 

He’d called her for advice when he found out Sarah’s mom had died. Both his parents had experience with grief he didn’t. It just so happened his mom had picked up first. 

“I…” What could he say? 

They glared at him through the phone some more. 

“I didn’t want to keep it from you,” he said. 

“Well, you didn’t tell us!” Luke said. 

“I just… since June I wanted Brady to meet her before I told anyone else.” 

“Why?” 

“Because he was the only one who told me he didn’t like June!” 

An awkward blanket of silence settled over all three of them. 

“I didn’t want to tell anyone I was seeing someone if it was going to turn into another June.” As he said it, Quinn knew it was an excuse that didn’t really hold up. Sarah was so different from June that he shouldn’t have been comparing them at all. Brady even said so when they talked after their double date. He’d just been scared.

“And is it?” Jack asked. 

“No,” he admitted, “she’s really great and I think we could go all the way.” It was the first time he’d dared to say it out loud. 

“How long have you been dating?” Luke asked, incredulous.

“Two months.” 

“Two fucking months?” Jack repeated, raking a hand into his hair, “Quinn, why didn’t you tell us?” 

“I’m sorry, okay? I fucked up. I won’t keep it from you anymore.” 

“You better not,” Jack said, glaring in a slightly softer way. “I want to see a picture of her.” 

Quinn pulled one up from their walk three days previous and sent it to Luke. The sun had been setting, and the golden light had been so lovely, she asked to stop and take a selfie. 

Luke held up his phone and Jack’s eyes widened. The way Quinn was smiling in that picture told him everything he needed to know. 

“She’s pretty,” Luke said. 

“Yeah,” Quinn agreed. 

Jack was blinking silently in a way that Quinn found unnerving. 

Finally he managed to say something, “what does she do?” 

“She’s getting her masters in marine zoology at UBC and she does research at the aquarium.” 

Jack felt like he’d been struck over the head. Not because Quinn had kept something this important from him, or because Sarah was unlike anyone he would have picked for his brother. He felt dumbfounded by the fact that he knew, in a way he could feel in his bones, everything was about to change.

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[sbk-zgvlt]

Guys. I finally finished book 4.

Sebek doesnt go home for winter break, deciding to stay with Yuu and Grim in Ramshackle (He feels left out by Dia 3 and decides to stay back, not willing to put himself through more heartbreak) (Yuu and Grim dont question him when he appears in front of their dorm with a luggage bag)

Sebek wanted to see Dia 3 off when they leave through the Magic Mirror only to get there with Adeuce Yuu and Grim and find out they leave without bidding him goodbye

Adeuce's opinion on Dia 3 are slowly souring

Bump into Jamil and the rest of Scarabia!! Decide to help them with cooking. Idc about that theory that the culinary crucible cards that have their bows not properly done r bad cooks SEBEK CAN COOK AND I STAND BY THIS !!!

heads up! Sebeks previous interactions with Jamil (namely the ceromonial robes vignette) has already skewered his personal opinion on him, so he doesnt get suspicious of him until its too late

Something something about how easy it is for Sebek to love admire and respect someone something something about how he lets it blind him to peoples faults sometimes

SEBEK LOVES IT IN SCARABIA OMGG ITS SO WARM. Those green flames in Diasomnia heat JACKSHIT smh

The carpet likes messing around with Sebek and Yuu has to stop him from trying to set it aflame/lh

When they take to the skies, Yuu takes the time to look at Sebek and Grim and just be. Insanely glad that theyre with them (AUGHHH THEY MAKE ME SICKKK)

Kalim's "mood swings" do NOT mix well with Sebek "autism" Zigvolt. Works well in Jamil's favor because Yuu gets upset on both Sebek and Grim's behalf

The whole thing with Yuu unable to say no because of Jamil's UM and Sebek and Grim scolding them, but the former admits that it leaves a sour taste in his mouth if they leave Jamil without helping for some reason

Try to escape and FAIL spectacularly. Try to call the headmage, and Grim eventually tells Yuu to message Adeuce. Sebek messages Jack ("Why do you even have his number in the first place 🤨" "It is none of your concern, human!")

Sebek stops Grim from trying to dig their way out with a spoon, knowing it would be fruitless, and makes him rest

They have the talk with Jamil and the other dorm students !! When Jamil mentions why exactly he needs to be compliant to all of Kalim's wishes, Yuu whispers about how that sounds like someone they know. Sebek tries to ask them what they mean but Yuu says its nothing

Sebek criticizes the Al-Asims and Jamil is surprised by how passionate he is about the topic (Yuu tries their best not to call Sebek a hypocrite with how he's been excusing all of his Wakasama's actions that are CLEARLY hurting him) (Malleus sneezes in Briar Valley)

Jamil also finds out that technically Sebek is a servant as well, although it was by his own will. He questions how Sebek could so easily dedicate his whole life to someone just like that. Yuu agrees, mentioning how his Wakasama doesnt even seem to give him the time of day, which doesnt help

THEY ESCAPE WITH THE HELP OF THE CARPET 🔥🔥🔥 and crash into Octavinelle

Skipping a lot of chapters over here since nothing really changes drastically. Sebek goes with Floyd, Yuu, Grim and Azul to distract Jamil. He plays a board game with Yuu :3

Skipping again, they find out about Jamil's whole scheme and Sebek is CRUSHED to find out that someone he looks up to is actually a bad guy. Jamil once again ignores the teeny tiny guilt he feels upon seeing Sebek's distressed face

Something something about being the one praised for once something something about how Sebek freely gives his love and praise to anyone he believes deserves it and how Jamil feels appreciated even though he wont admit it

OVERBLOT GRAHHHHHH

Flings them to the edge of the desert, Sebek holds onto Yuu and Grim so he would be the one to get the brunt of injuries upon impact. It doesnt help that its cold

OASIS MAKER 🗣️🔥🔥🔥 Sebek uses his crocodile form to carry Yuu and Grim (Yuu was against it because WHAT THE FUCK SEBEK YOURE INJURED)

Fighting Jamil! Sebek connects with Jamil, servant to servant and all that shit, saying that what he's doing wont change a thing. Starts off insulting him ("SEBEK YOURE NOT HELPING???") before going "Will you really let yourself stoop so low and let them take the last laugh!?"

"You have talent and skill that could make others envious, and you're using them for what? Stealing some title? If it was truly yours to begin with, then prove it! Do you really want to become housewarden through such underhanded tactics?" "I truly admire you, Viper, so don't tell me that I placed my faith in someone so imprudent!"

Jamil scolds him, saying that Sebek of all people should understand why Jamil's doing this in the first place. Tells him that he can help him as well, offering his hand. Sebek doesn't take it

He gets in a bit of a funk after that, not being able to understand why Sebek is just okay with being a servant all his life, getting more aggressive with his attacks while the others try to push him back. He still has his hand stretched out towards Sebek, screaming about how he should understand

Azul tells them theyre running out of time, and Jamils going to be too consumed by his blot for any of them to snap him out of it. Against his better judgment, Sebek grabs Jamil's hand, Yuu barely holding onto Sebek's jacket when they tried to pull him back

FLASHBACK!!! Sebek and Yuu finally acknowledge each others existence when they watch the memories play out. When nearing the end, Yuu asks Sebek why he cares so much about this "Wakasama" when its clear that they dont care for him. Sebek doesnt answer

BACK TO THE REAL WORLD!!! Azul tries to convince Jamil to transfer to Octavinelle, and after some thinking decides to extend the invitation towards Sebek. Sebek immediately refuses. Yuu retorts and says the only dorm Sebek is ever transferring to is Ramshackle. (They look at each other like 🤨)

Jamil tells Sebek that he still doesn't understand why Sebek would want to serve someone his whole life. Sebek tells him that he doesn't need him to understand since it's his own decision anyway. Jamil contemplates on his answer

PARTY!!!! Adeuce and Jack FINALLY arrive and fuss over Yuu Sebek and Grim, still not admitting that they were worried

Yuu realizes that Sebek still didnt answer the question. When they ask Sebek about what happened in the memory Sebek feigns obliviousness

Finally back at Ramshackle,,, the ghosts are RELIEVED to see them again. They usher Sebek into the house, noticing how Sebek is SHIVERING

Before Yuu gets in as well, Lilia pops up, saying that they have something to give them. After he gives them the postcard and disappears, Sebek goes out to shout at Yuu to come inside

Yuu shows him the card and Sebek's face FALLS (YOU SEND YUU A POSTCARD BUT NOT. SEBEK. OKAY I SEE HOW IT IS !!!)

Yuu tries to ask him whats wrong, but Sebek says that its getting too cold outside and heads in. Yuu stares at the postcard like it just killed their entire family

"M.D." has a #1 hater and it's YUU 🗣️🔥🔥🔥

EDIT: I FORGOT TO MENTION FUCKKKK Sebek picks the stone up before Grim does, intending to throw it away only to become curious as to why Grim likes them so much. He pockets it instead

AUHUGHUG FINALLY DONE 😭😭😭 im goign to try and finish book 5 next !!

[tryagainstarlight]

[Hi! I really like what you're doing so far! I'm glad there's a dedicated ask blog for Start Again and the premise comic of Siffrin getting a phone connected to tumblr from the Universe was hilarious when I first saw it.

First of all, do you have a name that you'd like us anons to use when addressing you blog owner? My last ask had referred to you as Showrunner, since showrunners are the people with the highest authority for a show and call the shots, but that was mostly to fit with how Isat and Sasasaap love making shows, actors, and play metaphors. (It also mean we're staff writers who, in real life, are people at the bottom of the hierarchy and writes ideas for the story. I think it fits well)

Secondly, will you do a mix of comics and just plain answering the ask for Siffrin answering our asks?

Thirdly, are there anything you'd like to mention here? Like the stuff we are not allowed to mention right off the bat, limitations for our summoning powers, would you prefer for us anons to work as this one unanimous voice or could we differentiate ourselves with tags? I'm leaving this as a opportunity for you to go off.

P. S This ask is currently in brackets to indicate that this is meant for you and not Siffrin. Does this work well? I'm trying to test the waters since this is the first time I'm interacting with a dedicated story blog and this blog is still quite young.]

AQ Under the Cut

ﾟ.+:｡ To start off, feel free to call me, Director, or Showrunner. Maybe Auteur, if you're feeling ✨️fancy✨️

ﾟ.+:｡ For the comics? I plan on having a mix of the two. With the longer form of comics happening when story important events are taking place.

ﾟ.+:｡ Example: Going through Odile's friend quest or talking with the head housemaiden for the first time.

ﾟ.+:｡ But with the simpler drawings would be the moments between comics to allow repreave and overall shenanigans, so like hanging out at the favor tree or exploring the house. Plus, it's a good time to chat with our dear Starlight and possibly co and plan out future events.

ﾟ.+:｡ Hmmm. Well, this is a good time as any to let you know what you can and can not do... With summoning things, it's a hit or miss, I do not promise any items will be sent over. Plus, it can't be anything heavily story relevant.

ﾟ.+:｡ EX: Keyknife. Or make the story heavily deviate: A car. And once the loop resets, it will go away so it won't be permanent.

ﾟ.+:｡ It's up to you, Anons, if you want to work together as a singular hivemind or have individuality. Tiz the beauty of the internet.

ﾟ.+:｡ About Mal du Pay in your other ask... It's too early to ask about that, spoilers~

ﾟ.+:｡ Speaking of which, don't reveal anything that happens after act 4, Starlight over here is basically a worse act 5 Siffrin at the start of Act 3. That would be spoilerssssss

ﾟ.+:｡ That is all that comes to mind, thanks Anon for asking! And if there's further questions, I maybe able to answer them. :]

ﾟ.+:｡ Oh and the brackets work quite well, I'll keep it as a little mental note when you lovely people are trying to talk to me :]

[queerprayers]

update <3

I've been procrastinating this (as if that could make it all less real), but so many people have sent prayers and well wishes that I wouldn't feel right not letting you know how grateful I am for your words and also letting you know this: My beloved grandfather died last week.

I honor the faithful service he gave to countless churches and communities, the children he helped raise, the grandchildren he sang to, the children he baptized, the couples (including my parents) he married, the people he buried, the music and faith that never left him even when so much of him did.

I will pass on the last thing he ever said to me, in July, after a busy and joyful weekend celebrating his fiftieth wedding anniversary, as he got in bed for his nap, taking seconds in between words to think: "It's not all hard. Not all the time." This is so hard. But it's also part of loving someone: promising to mourn them when the time comes. Promising to keep going. Love is hard, but it's not all hard. Not all the time.

His funeral will be Catholic, but he used to be a Lutheran, and he presided over many funerals from the worship book I still use, so here are some words I've been saying from there:

O God of grace and glory, we remember before you today our brother. We thank you for giving him to us to know and to love as a companion in our pilgrimage on earth. In your boundless compassion, console us who mourn. Give us your aid, so we may see in death the gate to eternal life, that we may continue our course on earth in confidence until, by your call, we are reunited with those who have gone before us; through your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.

Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend your servant. Acknowledge, we humbly beseech you, a sheep of your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming. Receive him into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in light.

The generations rise and pass away before you. You are the strength of those who labor; you are the rest of the blessed dead. We rejoice in the company of your saints. We remember all who have lived in faith, all who have peacefully died, and especially those most dear to us who rest in you. Give us in time our portion with those who have trusted in you and have striven to do your holy will. To your name, with the Church on earth and the Church in heaven, we ascribe all honor and glory, now and forever. Amen.

O death, where is thy sting? O grave, thy victory? The strife is o'er, the battle done. Love will come again like wheat arising green. The Lord bless and keep him. The Lord make his face to shine upon him and be gracious to him. The Lord look upon him with favor and grant him peace.

I'm not a Catholic, and was never really taught to pray for souls, but I think I get it a bit now. He was, though, and if that's something you do, I'm sure he would have welcomed that. (And if you know any good saints to throw in the mix, go for it.) My grandmother could also use your prayers.

Thank you for reading this, and holding for a moment the love I have for him. It's heavy right now, and easier to carry with others' prayers beside me. I am praying beside you as well, especially with the many people who have sent me asks that have gone unanswered for ages now. And God holds all of us, more than we could ever imagine. I don't claim to understand death, but I am in the palm of the universe's hand, and my granddad is too, reunited with all that left him in his sickness, and united with a God who knows death intimately. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, love to love.

<3 Johanna

[aldryrththerainbowheart]

Guts SFW alphabet

Fandom: Berserk

Relationships: Guts x reader

Note: Gaaagh...Finally! It's done. My message box is swarming with ideas and asks and I had to get this done before doing anything else. Again, I'm posting a random pic instead of Berserk related pic because I can.

-Aldryrth

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Sorry, Guts’ range of affection is caring whether you live or die. That being said, the man would at least try if he end up in a relationship. Hard life toughens people up, but it also makes them more sensitive, and tender in some places. Like scar tissue that has never been completely restored. There are moments when Guts needs you. He survived many of these battles with his mental health somehow intact because there was always your voice, bringing him back from the dark corners of his mind, reminding him why is he fighting.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Protective. You’re not getting into any fights or following your stupid ideas as long as Guts is around. He’s the type of friend you’d ask for a huge favor and all he’d say would be: “When?” and “Whaddya want me to do?” He’s a constant, reassuring presence in your life. It’s difficult to gain his friendship, but when you do it’s for a lifetime.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

The mans a cuddler, even though he doesn’t know it. He may not even realize what he’s doing is cuddling or he may do it unconsciously. Whether he leans on you after a long day of traveling or drapes an arm around you when sleeping. Guts gets more cuddly the more he is tired, so I advise you to take advantage of that.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

All Guts know is to swing a sword, but if the war ended and Griffith would be defeated, there would be no use for mercenaries like him, so he would be forced to settle. Changing your life is always easier when you have someone adapting with you. He would need your help and support when accustoming to this new lifestyle. If given the right instructions, there are not many Guts couldn’t do with his hands. I see him as the type to build a house he’d live in with his partner and family. Occasionally his hands would itch to hold a sword handle, so you could find him in the backyard of his home swinging with that massive blade of his.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He would approach the matter the way he does everything in life, straight ahead, bluntly, and to the point. He thinks you deserve that the matter is dealt as painlessly and quickly as possible, without any shitty excuses.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quickly would they want to get married?)

Guts never thought about marriage before. That goes against his credo which is: to plan only for the next day ahead. The lives of mercenaries tend to be short and unpredictable, so there’s no reason for any big plan such as marriage. Another reason why Guts may not rush into engagement is he is not used to such big commitments. Technically, the last time he gave away his life to someone it didn’t end well. He may be worried about leaving you alone in this world if he were to die. It may not even occur to Guts that he could marry someone he’s considered a partner for some while. His comrades would have to probably knock some sense into him and tell him it’s about the time most couples get married by this point.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

The black swordsman is the definition of Not Gentle in any sense of the word. Now there’s something that needs to be said. When a person is accused of lack of gentleness or outright called brute, we usually envision someone inherently cruel and mean. With Guts, it’s a mix of his personality, background, and severe trauma that caused his overall roughness. Gentleness had no place in his life. He never encountered it, nor he had any use for it. The reason he’s such a skilled mercenary is exactly his toughness. This goes so far that Guts is confused and defensive when given a shred of kindness. However, people who were not treated kindly and were forced to be tough by their environment are often those most sensitive. He may not know how to be gentle, but he can teach, observe, absorb, and even reciprocate if given the right pointers.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Addressing the previous text, Guts is tougher than nails mercenary swordsman. Hugs is not something he usually participates in. In anime and manga, he even pushed people away when they got into his personal space, specifically telling people not to touch him. It’s a defense mechanism. Most of the physical contact he got in his life was in a form of combat and he doesn’t know how to feel about other kinds. He’s scared of being vulnerable with someone, understandably. Give him time. Be careful with him. Take small steps. First, get him to allow you to stand close to him. Then, casual, fleeting touches. Until you wrap your arms around him. Better yet, ask him if you can touch him and wait patiently for consent, or open your arms and prompt Guts to embrace you on his own terms. Your first hug is endearingly awkward. Guts kinda woodenly wrapping his arms around you, not really touching you, with the two-inch distance between your bodies. Until he slowly presses his body into you, standing there like a statue, unsure what else to do. While you have time of your life, smushing your face into his pecs and caressing his back.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Probably never. Guts may never tell you these exact words, but he would show you with his actions. These words just don’t come to him easily. He’d rather say: “You’re important to me” or “I can’t lose you”.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

The black swordsman may actually get quite jealous and possessive. He would tell you that he’s not possessive, merely territorial over something that belongs to him. Most of the time he doesn’t overstep your boundaries unless he’s truly feeling threatened. He had to fight tooth and nail for that handful of possessions he has, you bet your ass he’d always keep a check on you. For Guts, it’s not that he thinks you would cheat on him, but more that other people might get funny ideas. He’s also competitive as hell, I don’t think that’s being talked enough about.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

The flavor of Guts’ kisses depends on the situation and the stage of your relationship. In the beginning, the kisses will be hesitant and soft, due to Guts’ lack of experience, mixed with his nervousness and clumsiness in anything intimate. He quickly presses his lips to yours, hoping you wouldn’t notice the slight tremble and pause before his lips met yours. And yes, Guts’ is really nervous about messing up your first kiss. He would die first before admitting it tho. After he gets confident in his skills and his position in your relationship, his kisses would get more passionate and powerful. This guy is big on I-haven’t-seen-you-for-some-time-and-I-have-to-have-you-now kinds of kisses. The ones when he stalks to you in powerful strides, dark eyes boring into you. Unknknowing bystanders would think he wants to kill you from his body language. Although Guts has some stabbing in the plan, as he sweeps you into his arms and his mouth devours yours, ignorant about where he is or who’s watching. If that’s the case everybody better get the fuck out of his way because he’s been craving you for months.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Not really, Guts are not good with kids. He doesn’t know how to interact with them or how to treat them. Not to mention he finds their weakness and innocence triggering. However, in the manga, he clearly tries his best to take care of that little kid. As he grows older, he might associate a family with the stability he never had, and when he holds his child, an incredible sense of protectiveness washes over him. Extremely protective parent who treats his children like they are made of glass, even as they get older. He’s the type of dad that doesn’t always communicate and connects well with his kids, but they know he means well.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Guts usually wake up before you to start the day with a bit of sword training. When he gets to the point in his life where there’s no imminent danger or quest, he likes to laze around for a day. Good luck getting anything done when he decides it’s one of these days because the man is not spending that time in bed alone.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

In an established relationship with Guts, things quickly fall into a routine. Once you actually have a place to live in, evenings become your favorite routine. As you both prepare for bed, you watch muscles rippling in his back as he pulls his shirt over his head and he brushes your hair, you two settle for bed. You don’t go a single night without sharing a kiss goodnight. When he sleeps, Guts always unconsciously touch some part of your body with his.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Phew…that’s a tough one…Very, very, very late into the relationship. Obviously, there are things that are extremely hard for him to talk about and then there are things he talks about matter-of-factly and flippantly without realizing how awful and traumatizing the event was. Sadly, Guts doesn’t have all the standards as to how he should be treated. He also has major memory lapses and remembers only chunks of twisted versions of moments from his past.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Well, he is a berserker. Patience or serenity is not his forte. Then again he took upon a Sisyphean task of defeating Gods’ Hand and Griffith. I’ll say he has short temper for short-time things, but when he sets his sight on something, he goes a long and strenuous way to get it. With his partner, certain things just boil his blood. Not listening to his orders, getting injured or pestering him with questions, and sometimes having pretty reasonable demands. Guts go-to emotion is usually anger and then he actually thinks about it and realizes he was a bit too harsh, or not. The mans stubborn as hell. He just won’t budge on some things.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Guts surprise you with how many things he knows and remembers about you. You feel sometimes like he doesn’t care about you the way you do for him, but you’re wrong. He’s always watching, always listening even if it doesn’t look like it. He always keeps checking on you, especially in crowded places. He can be talking to anybody or looking the other way but his senses will be always acutely aware of your presence. Before you two got together he listened intently to your chatter with others, looking like he couldn’t care less or even that the noise annoys him (brat).

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Your first time. It may sound silly but your first time was literally the definition of perfect, at least for him. It was after a battle with one of the apostles. They were dead but at the price of Guts’ wrecked body and mind. You were changing his bandages at the moment you carefully treated his wounds with a contracted stomach. You were a superb healer, but you can’t do miracles. Then, you noticed him shaking. You dropped everything and held onto him until he calmed down. After that, he suddenly pressed his lips against yours and start to pull at your clothes. The last thing he remembers is you urging him to be gentle, otherwise, he’ll open his wounds. And he was, in fact, he remembers that moment to this day because the Black Swordsman is not a soft man, but back then he loved with all the softness he didn’t even know he possessed.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Extremely protective. One of the few signs of him showing affection. I’m pretty sure as Berserk fans we can all see and agree on strong protective urges for this man, but only to certain people. Now what needs to be talked about more is how weak it makes Guts when someone is protective of him. The older he gets, the more he learns to appreciate that, especially after Eclipse.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

His partner would have to be the one keeping track of these things. Guts would even think it’s nonsense. You love one another, why address it with such frivolities?

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Guts is unadaptable and stubborn. This man will probably hurt your feelings a lot before you get together. Guts don’t mince words and when it comes to empathy he’s like an elephant in a porcelain shop. Many times he watched you leave angrily or in tears with a thought Was it something I said? Ugh. Good luck if you try to talk him out of something, the man won’t budge, no matter how wrong it is. Compromises don’t work with this guy. He’s an insensitive fuck. Part of it is his trauma, and part of it is just him being a jerk. There’s a reason he never had a partner, Guts has a charm of a tree stump. Guts also likes to throw himself in danger mindlessly, to the point where you are not worried for him anymore, just annoyed and frustrated. His idea of heroism is confused with stupidity. Impatient. Whatever it is, he wanted it done yesterday before he even thought of it. Very private guy, to the point where he’ll budge only when your relationship is at stake. Sorry to tell you, but being with this guy is just not easy. Guts knows he’s a bit of an ass, all the more he appreciates that you give him the time of your day.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Guts don’t give a rat's ass about how he looks, as long as he doesn’t smell bad in front of you. He doesn’t consider himself attractive. His blueprint for an attractive man was always Griffith, considering how everyone swooned over him, and since he’s his exact opposite, personality and looks wise, he’s gotta be ugly right? That doesn’t bother him any. He always perceived his body in terms of functionality, not appearance. He’s big and sturdy enough to withstand most blows and strong enough to wield his sword, that’s what matters to him. Not if he meets someone who considers him attractive and is pretty vocal about it well…Needless to say, your words of admiration occupy his mind even if he brushes you off. If he ever catches you watching him, he maybe, maybe preens a little and would throw in an extra flex for some more appreciative looks. Now he understands why Griffith enjoys them so much.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Depends on the depth of your relationship. For me, it’s very difficult to say how Guts would handle his loss of you. By experience, he would power through it and would do his best to move on because no amount of grieving would bring you back. The longer the two of you would be together, the more he would feel the lack of your presence in everything he has, everything he sees, and everything he experiences. Even the smallest of things. The empty space on shelves where your stuff occupied it. The plant that you used to take care of is now wilting. Your smell starts to dissipate from your sheets. If Guts misses you, he’ll never shows it in front of others.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Guts has social anxiety and doesn’t know it. This is medieval times we’re talking about, so the concept of mental health didn’t even exist until the 19th century. His avoidance of social gatherings and large groups goes beyond his lone-wolf persona. The mans anxious and scared. Whenever he’s in a large crowd his heartbeat picks up, he gets overwhelmed and disoriented and has to get himself out of there. His partner knows this and they’re his support the same way cheetahs have support dogs. You make this more bearable just by him being able to sense your presence through your joined hands.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Lack of character. You Gotta learning how to Stand up for yourself. He can't dote on you and watch alternativní you all the time. Guts doesn't have patience with shy and meek People.

People that talk about themselves 24/7. The royal country was swarmed People like this and all they ever earned from Guts was a .ocking scoff. Let him Děčíně if you're worthy of his time with actions rather than words.

People who have constant need to prove something about themselves. cough Griffith cough

Clingy people. The quickest way to turn him off. He loves you he chose you, there’s no need for you to follow him like a lost puppy all the time. He’s bit of an ass. Guts will consider even general affection between two lovers as clinginess. You come up to him to take his arm and he’ll rips it away like you’ve bruned him. Relax, jeez.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Depends on time and place, he can be very heavy sleeper. If he's wrought out after battle, he'll sleep like a log. Most of the times though, he's alert even in his sleep. Not even a mouse gets past his. Also, his night tend to be mostly his curse with one or two hours of sleep. If he's able to fall into deep sleep in your presence it's a sign that he trusts you. Lot's of tossing and turning. Whoever sleeps with better watch out or they'll end up with black eye.

[ducklooney]

Hello, I'm writing a story where Grandma Duck has everyone in the family at her home, and they asks her to tell them a story. She proceds to tell them a love story about a forbittten romance. At the end of the story she reveals the couple is their family's ancestor. Who out of the existing Ducks do you think I could choose to be the couple? (and what should be the current Ducks reactions when they find out they are their ancestors?)

Hi, sorry for the late reply, but I think I answered this question before which you can read here: https://ducklooney.tumblr.com/post/753671286120644608/hi-im-creating-a-short-story-here-grandma-duck

However, when you mentioned the story of Grandma Duck, I would have mentioned her grandfather Cornelius Coot who was the originator of the Duck family we know today. Humperdink Duck is a descendant of his ancestors Don Dugo and Pintail Duck, while Grandma Duck has a special role, because her father Clinton Coot was the founder of Junior Woodchucks, while her grandfather Cornelius Coot was the founder of Duckburg. Yes, Elvira Coot (Grandma Duck) married Humperdink Duck. In the early 19th century, Cornelius went west to the Calisota area and founded the future town of Duckburg there and married a Native American duck. Although she was never named, some call her Pluckahontas. It can be said that their love has links to Romeo and Juliet and a mixed race love affair can be labeled as such. I guess that's what Grandma Duck meant when she told her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. There are also pictures of Cornelius and his wife, unfortunately I am not sure who the author is.

And if someone asks me, this is not Don Rosa, but some anonymous artist (artist who signed "M. W.") who did it for Don Rosa.

Yes, it can be said that it was a forbidden love, because they come from different people and Pluckahontas herself was the daughter of a chief of a tribe who did not want her to marry a white duck. However, they eventually got married and created their new family. Again that's just my theory and my guess.

I imagine that Donald and his nephews would be more in favor of being Native Americans after learning about their family tree, which is not surprising, since in the comics Donald's nephews often play Native Americans. They would have more of a spirit for freedom and what Native Americans usually have, a gift for nature and an understanding of animals.

Again, it is not certain if Clinton Coot was actually their son, as it is not known if Pluckahontas married Cornelius officially. Certainly, even if they didn't, they certainly felt for each other. At least in my opinion, but I think that couple would be the answer to your question.

And I'm glad that you asked that and that you are satisfied with my answers, to help you with your story. But by all means, if you have any other questions, feel free to ask me. Again that's just my opinion.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Do You Want Me, Cyar'ika [dark]

Dark!Din Djarin x Jedi!Female Reader

Warnings: HEY THIS IS DARK WATCH OUT, stalking, manhandling, slight choking if you kind of squint, dubcon (reader is willing, but is def under the influence of the darksaber), smut, hand job, unprotected sex (p in v), mentions of blood and injury, ruthless murder

Word Count: 5,136

Summary: Din Djarin is a man who lost everything. His home, his son, his Creed. But at the end of the day, he still had you. He still had you, and he was determined to keep you. Part One: Ni Ceta, Cyar'ika Part Two: I Love You, Cyar'ika

[a/n: THIS IS THE DARK ENDING TO THIS TRILOGY. My suggestion is to read the version you really want first b/c the beginning half is the exact same. It's only the end that differs.]

.

"she's hell, he's the devil⏤ the demons see no end to this love." -amber anwar

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The echoing of your footsteps bounced off the walls and the quick pace seemed to match the racing of your heart. No looking back. You needed to get to the tarmac. Din was supposed to be in the war room with Bo Katan and the others in his council discussing something or another. This morning he had told you that he wouldn’t be able to meet you for lunch until a bit later in the afternoon. Half an hour after he had told you this, you grabbed your stuff and started running. 

You had the right idea months ago when you first tried to leave. This was going to be your last chance. If he caught you this time you don’t know that you’d ever get the chance to run away again. Memories of that beskar chain and anklet hung heavy in your mind as you picked up your pace. A terrifying thought occurred to you. Would he stop there? How far would Din go to keep you by his side? You truly believed, deep down, that Din wouldn’t hurt you, but… were you just being delusional? At some point, he’d consider the line to be crossed.

The tarmac was mostly empty. The few Mandalorians that were in the area gave you curious looks, but nobody dared stop you. That was a side effect of being ‘owned’ by the Mand’alor and though you found it disturbing previously it was truly working in your favor now. Everybody on this rock, save for a few people like Bo Katan, were too terrified of Din to even look in your direction for longer than a few seconds. As you sprinted to the closest ship you knew how to pilot, the Mandalorians began to disperse. You had a suffocating suspicion that they were in the process of calling Din.

You made it further than you had last time. You were on the ship, ramp closing behind you, and you clambered into the cockpit and got things running. As the ship slowly began to rise, you saw him. Din stood at the edge of the tarmac with his hands on his hips. The wind tunneling through the ship’s exhaust and down onto the ground below caused Din’s thick cape and hair to whip around. Even from this distance, you could feel Din’s gaze burning straight through you. The look on his face was haunting⏤ a mix of devastation and unbridled rage. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away. Even after the ship was in the atmosphere and Din was far out of view, you stared down at Mandalore in pain. Your chest ached as your heart already begun to miss the man you were running from.

Before allowing yourself to wallow, you input the coordinates to Tatooine and let the ship slip into hyperdrive. The second those all too familiar lines of blurred space cast a blue glow in the cockpit, you pulled your knees up into your chest to bury your face there. If somebody were to ask you the exact reason why tears streamed down your face you would not be able to give them an answer.

You just knew, everything was wrong.

You agonized over who to send a message to. As you drew ever near to Tatooine, doubts began to plague your mind. Should you reach out to Boba and Fennec? They were obvious choices because they cared about Din and they knew how to hold their own in a fight. However, you had a nagging fear at the back of your mind that would not silence. It blared like a ghostly siren. Din was not himself right now, and though you knew without a doubt that he would not hurt you, could the same be said for Boba and Fennec? Especially if they stood in the way of Din getting to you?

You hated that you were unsure of that.

You hated that a part of you honestly thought Din might hurt his friends or worse.

There was no changing course though. The best solution you had was to get in touch with Luke Skywalker. He might have answers about this. Even if he didn’t, having him and Ahsoka by your side would help. Three Jedi surely could get that cursed saber away from Din. Granted, there was no assurance that separating the saber from the love of your life would actually work, but it was all you had. It was the last bit of hope you could cling to. 

Upon your arrival to Tatooine, you immediately slunk away to a crowded cantina. You were not a fool. You knew Din was not just going to let you wander away and you knew he was one of the deadliest bounty hunters in the galaxy. He was very good at what he did⏤ especially when passionate about the mission. That didn’t leave you very much time to get the information you needed. 

You sent out a decoded distress message to the number Skywalker had left you when he took Grogu. He left it strictly for emergencies and this obviously classified as one. After it was out in the universe, all you could do was wait. So you saddled up to the bar, sat on a stool, and ordered a drink. It was all you could think to do. This was the first time in ages that you were in a space not clouded by Din’s presence. You hadn’t realized until now how suffocating it had been.

Being with Din, watching his slow descent, you had gotten accustomed to that cloud of darkness that hung over his head. To the point where you didn’t notice it worsening and worsening. It felt as if your body had acclimated to living under the ocean. Your body grew used to the crushing depths. Your lungs shriveled from the lack of oxygen. Your eyes grew blind from the absence of light. Now? Sitting at this dingy, dirty bar, it was as if someone had forced you up from the ocean floor and dragged you quickly up to the surface. It was jarring. The fresh air was painful as it filled your lungs, your eyes burned from the disappearance of darkness, and suddenly it was freedom that felt wrong. 

A sudden beeping made you glance down at the communicator. Eyes wide, you answered it, “Hello? Luke Skywalker?” Your name was spoken over the line in concern. “Thank the Maker. I⏤ Din and I are in trouble.”

“What has happened?”

“It’s…” You took in a slow breath and began to walk him through what was going on. You started with the moment he took Grogu and described every single downward step the two of you had taken with the saber in his possession. When you finished, your throat felt thick with emotion. “I got away, but he’ll be after me soon. I know it. Luke, I… I don’t know what to do. I just know I need help, and I’m too afraid to go to anybody other than you.”

“You were right to reach out to me.” Luke sighed. “This needs to be handled by us. No need to risk anyone else.”

The thought flickered through your head without warning. You were okay with putting Luke Skywalker and Ahsoka in danger. It came quickly and you swatted it away just as fast, but it felt like poison. Obviously, Boba and Fennec meant more to you than Luke and Ahsoka. You were closer to the first two. However, it still didn’t make risking the lives of the latter two okay. The fact that the belief attempted to nestle in your head reminded you of the dark saber. Your hand wrapped around your own lightsaber⏤ seeking comfort in the energy it radiated.

“You believe he’ll follow you, correct?” Luke questioned.

“Absolutely.” You answered without an ounce of hesitation.

Luke hummed on the other end of the line in thought. “I will send you coordinates. Come to us. The Mandalorian will follow and we will handle this from there. You just need to get here. Can you do that?”

“Yeah.” You nodded your head, trying to convince yourself. “I can. I’ll leave as soon as you send me those coordinates.”

“Of course. Call us again if you have trouble.”

“Thank you.”

The call ended and you threw back the remainder of the drink before rushing for the door. It would take fifteen minutes to get to the tarmac and you assumed you’d get the coordinates by then to use. The crowded Tatooine streets made you anxious. Shoulders clipped into yours as people rushed past you in the opposite direction. It felt like there were eyes burning into your skin, but every scan of the crowd told you it had to just be your paranoia. 

Your communicator beeped again and a quick glance down revealed the coordinates you’d be heading to. Good. You quickened your pace to turn a corner to the last leg of the path that would take you to the public tarmac when you spotted him. A flash of glinting silver under the hot Tatooine suns. Your feet came to a screeching halt, and for a moment the two of you stood stock still. Din was down the road. Closer to the tarmac’s entrance than to you. His hands rested on his hips, and he was helmetless. Even from this distance the darkness swimming in his brown eyes sent a chill down your spine. He had been a sight to behold in his full armor, a faceless figure of intimidation. However, you knew now that it was worse without the helmet. Actually seeing those burning eyes, rather than just feel them, made your stomach flip.

The crowd ebbed and flowed, a small group passing between the two of you, and when they passed fully Din was gone. You couldn’t see him. Without a second more of hesitation, you spun on your heel and sprinted in the opposite direction of where he had been standing. The public tarmac was a bust. You’d never be able to successfully route yourself back around, but you still needed a ship.

Peli’s shop. As soon as it came to mind, you altered course to head in that direction. You prayed that Peli wasn’t home. Hopefully she’d be out losing credits to a group of jawas in sabbac or conning some poor sap at the market. Your chest burned in the effort it took to keep your quick pace, your heart pounded painfully, and you could still feel Din’s eyes on you. Every time you glanced over your shoulder or down alleys there was no sign of silver, but you knew⏤ you just knew⏤ that he was hot on your heels somehow. 

You finally reached Peli’s shop and the garage was closed which meant she was not home, but you remembered the way in through the back. Peli had shown it to you and Din ages ago. Even if she didn’t have a client’s ship sitting in the bay, you could steal her land speeder and come up with a different plan from there. Once in, your eyes landed on a small ship parked in the main bay and your lips curled up into a relieved smile. Find the FOB, get the ship open and started. You rushed to Peli’s office and cursed the wrecked state it was in. Her baseline was chaotic and it showed in her organization choices. You dug through the mess until you found a FOB that seemed to match the ship waiting for you.

Victorious, you sprinted out of the office back down to the bay, but the second your feet stepped into the open area something hard slammed into you. The air was knocked from your lungs as you landed on the ground. Din’s features stared down at you as his body straddled yours. One of his gloved hands pinned down your dominant hand while the other clamped down on your throat⏤ not enough to restrict air, but just enough to convey his warning. You could see your fearful eyes reflected in the beskar covering him as he towered over you. Din’s face didn’t look angry or worried. He didn’t look scared or confused. Din looked cold. Emotionless. Somehow that was worse.

“Din⏤”

“Don’t.” Din said sharply. The fingers on your neck flexed once. “Don’t speak, cyar’ika.”

More suffocating than his demeanor and broad figure was the poisonous energy seeping out of the saber hung on his belt. You were drowning in it, struggling to keep your head above it’s dark waters, and Din was pushing you beneath the waves. He held you under. Din was a man drowning and in your attempt to rescue him he was dragging you to the depths as well. 

“How could you do this to me?” Din asked. His voice cracked⏤ the only sign of his pain. “Cyar’ika, you…” Din swallowed. A flash of heartbreak filled his expressive brown eyes and the degree of his hurt briefly made you feel guilty. Like you had been the one to betray him. “I love you. You are my everything. I would burn the world for you. How could⏤ How could you leave?”

“I never asked for you to burn the world for me, Din.” You whispered. “That’s not what I want.”

Din shifted and leaned down so he could rest his forehead against yours. His hand hung loosely around your throat, forearm pressed against your chest, and it was a position your body was familiar with. If you closed your eyes and gave into the darkness trying to claw its way down your throat and into your lungs, then you’d simply feel like you were sharing a private moment of intimacy with your love. Din’s lips suddenly ghosted against yours and you felt your body tremble.

“What is it you want?” Din begged. “I will give you anything. I just want you safe by my side.”

“I told you what I want, Din…”

Din sighed, his hot breath fanning across your lower face, “I can’t do that.” His voice was strained as if her were in agony. “The saber is how I protect you, cyar’ika.”

“You’re losing me because of that saber, baby.”

For the longest moment, Din remained silent. His eyes were closed and you could see him ruminating over something. After a second, he opened his eyes and Din’s eyebrows furrowed in defeat. A flicker of hope burned in your chest until he opened his mouth and spoke. 

“Things were okay. We just need to start from scratch again. I know you hated that chain, cyar’ika, but it’s for the best.” Din said softly and your eyes widened at how serious his words were. How much he believed that to truly be the best path. “It won’t be forever, I swear it. Just until I trust you again.”

“Din⏤”

“No.” Din snapped. His soft despair turning to a firm demand. “There will be no argument. I’m taking you home.” You opened your mouth once more, but Din’s fingers began to tighten around your throat marginally. “You’re already in trouble, cyar’ika. Don’t make it worse.”

Panic began to make your heart race. You were sinking fast and the light was beginning to disappear from your sight⏤ your freedom with it. In a poor attempt at a final chance of survival, you spoke up despite his order to stay silent. “I just wanted to say sorry.”

Din scoffed. “You understand why I find it hard to believe you.”

“I know.” You nodded. “Please, baby. I’m sorry. Please believe me. You know I love you.”

You could feel Din’s thumb around your neck tracing the skin under it as he stared down at you. He took in a deep breath and leaned in to press his forehead against yours once more. Din brushed his lips lightly against yours. “You’re always so pretty when you beg, cyar’ika.” That was the one thing you had working in your favor. Din always had a hard time telling you ‘no’ when your bodies were folded together like this. “I’ll hear you out, but let’s get to our ship first.”

“Why not now? Let me tell you how sorry I am, Din.” You begged and he let out a soft sigh as his eyes closed. Your eyes darted to the saber on his belt. If you ended up back on Mandalore it would be over. There would be no second chance. Determined, you rolled your hips up and just as you suspected you were met with the firmness of his half hard cock. Din groaned. “Let me show you how sorry I am.” Your non-dominant hand had been clutching at the hand he had at your throat, but you very slowly let it travel up his arm to bury in his soft hair. “Please, baby.”

You tilted your head up as much as you could with Din’s hand clamped around your neck. Carefully, in fear that too quick or sudden a movement would break the spell, you began to pull Din down closer. Din hesitated against the slight force of your hand only for a second before he slotted his lips against yours. As always, Din’s touch set you aflame. He released the wrist he had pinned and hooked that hand under your thigh to spread your legs so he could settle between them rather than straddle you. You should be focused on escape alone, but the taste of him made you hungry for more. You weren’t sure how much was your love for Din and how much was the saber twisting it into something recognizable. 

Din’s teeth caught your lower lip, and he pulled back a breath, “You’re supposed to be showing me how sorry you are, cyar’ika.” He leaned back down to lick into your mouth, his kiss crushing and near painful as Din’s hips pressed firmly against yours. He left his lips close enough that you felt every word he spoke. “Yet here I am…” Din gave a sharp thrust and even with layers of clothes between the two of you he was able to snap the bulge of his erection right where your clit was hidden. You gasped at the pleasure that rocketed up your spine as hot pangs arousal pooled in your lower belly. “...doing all the damn work.”

At his words, you closed the space to press your lips against his again, deepening the kiss, as your hands traveled to his belt. You undid his belt with practiced ease, and while one hand slipped under the waistband of his flight suit to find the base of his cock the other went to grasp the saber.

Your fingers brushed against the thrumming metal of the saber for only a second before Din’s hand slapped on top of yours pinning it to the saber. Everything froze. Din and you were both panting, breathless from your kiss. You had one hand stuffed into his pants with your hand pressed against his skin on the space above the base of his cock and the other on the saber. Din had one hand tightening around your neck while his other crushed your fingers against the darksaber. He chuckled and the sound sent chills throughout your body.

“Let go, Cyar’ika.” Din’s voice was gruff and seemed to rumble out from his chest. You began to try and pull both hands back, but Din grunted. “Not both. Just the saber.” You sucked in a sharp breath and remained frozen. “What? You don’t want to finish what you started?” He shoved one hand down his pants to roughly grab yours and force your hand to wrap around the entirety of his throbbing cock. It was like this tense moment was spurning him onwards⏤ filling him with a thrill you had never seen before. “I thought you were sorry.”

You hated how his words made your own core ache with want. 

Din snapped the saber off his belt tossed it off to the side. Too far for you too reach, but close enough that its influence weighed heavy on you still. He did the same to your own weapon which was hooked in its usual place on your belt. Din threw that one further, more carelessly, before lowering his face back down toward yours. His hand was still wrapped around yours, and Din thrusted into your dry grip. It couldn't be comfortable you thought, but Din moaned in your ear as if it were already drunk in pleasure.

“Din…” You murmured.

His hot mouth enveloped yours, tongue licking into you, as he thrusted twice more. Din’s teeth caught your lower lip again, but this time he bit down hard enough that the taste of metallic blood flashed across your taste buds. You yelped, he thrusted into your grip, and then Din pulled back just enough that you could see his lips painted with the red of your own blood.

“Are you going to make me take you?” He asked in a harsh whisper. “Or will you come willingly?” Din pressed his bloodstained lips against the side of your face, dragging, and you shuddered as a cold, but tempting, chill filled your body. “I’ll spend eternity chasing you, cyar’ika, but it will be more enjoyable if you just agree to be mine again.”

His lips found yours once more, and for one second you weren’t in your body. Your mind clouded with a sort of vision. You saw Din sitting on Mandalore’s throne splattered with blood he had drawn from others and his features masked in a cold indifference. The saber was not on his belt, but any confusion you had on it’s location faded as a different version of you came into view. She wore an elegant and revealing gown that was as dark as a starless night, and the inactive saber was held tight in her grip as blood covered her hands and left a trail of red petals as she passed. While Din’s face held a cold indifference this version of you looked feral with enjoyment. 

She settled herself on Din’s lap and the mask he wore cracked to reveal adoration as he stared up at this other you in awe. Without wasting a beat, this unrecognizable version of yourself pulled Din into a firm kiss. The blood on the hands that resembled yours smeared against his stainless beskar, and the blood on his face left smears along features you spent your entire life staring at in a mirror. Suddenly, the other you broke away to turn and it seemed she was glaring directly at you.

The saber in her hand activated and burned with a soul sucking energy that seemed to draw you in.

“Be mine.” Din’s voice snapped you back into the moment. “Be my queen, cyar’ika. I want no else.” He pressed his lips to yours again but in a way that was too soft to match the rest of this situation. The tip of his tongue dragged through the torn tissue of your lower lip and you shivered. “Let me protect you as you rule by my side.”

And you wanted it. It was like your body had finally reached the lowest depths and your lungs were filling with the dark water you were drowning in. It was almost peaceful allowing yourself to settle into the cold⏤ allowing it to swallow you whole. Distantly, you could feel the crystal in your lightsaber desperately calling out to you, but you were certain no light could reach you where you were. Cold turned to pleasure as Din’s hands began to map the familiar planes of your body. 

“I’ve always been yours.” You whispered. Din molded his lips to yours and he pulled your hand out from where it was hidden under his waistband so he could have to room and access to begin frantically undoing your own belt. You lifted your hips so he could tug your pants down past your ass and off entirely. He didn’t bother with his own pants, deciding to just tug them down enough to be useful, and  Din settled between your legs. As he worked himself out of his pants he planted his lips against the hollow of your neck.

You tilted your chin up, panting, as you gave him more room to work his tongue against the skin there. Every atom of your being was throbbing and aching for the man on top of you, but briefly a glimmer of pain lanced through your heart. A reminder. You thought you were too deep in for the light to reach you, but your lightsaber’s call managed one faint echo. A weak lifeline back to the surface. Without thinking, your hand reached reached out to where the sabers were cast aside and for the first time in your life you felt the Force do more than just read an energy. It enveloped the space around you and seconds later something firm was in the palm of your hand.

You cried out, managing to roll Din and yourself over so you now straddled him. The saber activated in your hand and rather than the warm familiar glow you wanted, you were greeted by the soul sucking, burning energy of the darksaber lighting up in your hands. Your eyes widened in alarm. The power that washed over you was overwhelming. It rocketed up your arm and pierced your very soul. Din laid on the ground under you as you stared at the cold glow of the saber burning in your hands, and you heard him begin to laugh in amusement. 

“Maker, you’ve never looked prettier, cyar’ika.” Din grinned⏤ the look in his dark eyes was wild with desire. “How does it feel?”

Your skin was crawling as if someone was holding a live wire to it. A tremor shook your body as your lips began to twitch up in raw pleasure. This felt wonderful. You had never felt more powerful and strong. It filled you with so much confidence that you didn’t even mind the bloodlust that came with it. Slowly, you lowered the saber so it was hovered over Din’s throat. He didn’t flinch or blink. In fact, as your free hand grasped the hair on top of his head roughly you felt his cock twitch under you. 

You gave his hair a slight tug, lifting his chin to tilt up, and Din chuckled, “Do you want me, Cyar’ika?”

“What I want,” You smirked and leaned down so even you could feel the heat radiating from the darksaber’s cold burning against your own skin, “is for you to open your mouth, baby.” Din did so without hesitation and you spat between his open lips possessively. Another tug on his dark locks and your love closed his mouth to swallow. “My King. So good for me.”

You shifted your hands so they were planted on either side of Din’s head. The saber rested on the dirt floor of Peli’s garage⏤ dangerously close to your lover. Din didn’t seem to mind in the slightest as his hands grasped your hips tightly. He lifted a knee to shove you closer to him while also lifting you up. You followed the momentum, letting your hips hover over him so he could work your underwear aside, and you slammed your lips against his. The kiss was rough. A clash of teeth and a fight for dominance. You felt the tip of his cock prod against your clit and you gasped. Din used it as a way to take control of the kiss. His tongue shoving into your mouth and keeping your own confined. Before you could regain the slight upper hand you lost, Din dragged his tip through your slick then roughly yanked your hips down onto him. You cried out as you felt his entire length stretch and fill you. 

The entire time that you and Din got lost in one another, the darksaber burned brightly only inches away. Din fucked up into you brutally as you chased that carnal release in the shadows cast from the saber’s cold flame. The darksaber sung in victory, content and prideful, as the lightsaber left inactive in the dirt a few feet away screamed in mourning. If you focused your attention you’d be able to hear both, but currently the only sound you could focus on was the way your cries of pleasure mingled with Din’s grunts of fulfillment. 

.

[six months later]

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You straddled Din’s lap, your thighs poking out from the slits alongside your dark gown, and as Din barked out in Mando’a to the crowd at your back you continued to pepper the skin of his neck with soft kisses. There was a pause in your King’s lecture and you let your teeth drag against the tight tendon under his skin before licking up to press another kiss behind his ear. Din trembled under your touch and you chuckled against him.

“Please! I’m sorry. Ni ceta!” A man was begging and the shakiness of his voice told you he was probably crying as well. “I came to Mandalore with only good intentions, your highness. Peace. I never meant⏤”

You leaned back, peeling yourself away from Din, and sighed. “Baby, can we be done with this?” Din focused his loving gaze on you as he offered you a soft and kind smile. Din cupped your jawline and let his thumb trace the shape of your lower lip. You gave him a small pout. “Please?”

“How could I ever deny you, my Queen?” Din chuckled and you could feel the rumble of his chest under the beskar. He pulled you in for a quick, but tender kiss. “Go ahead.”

You beamed at him and felt him use his other hand to squeeze your ass as you rose from the throne and his lap. You spun on your heel and stared out at the crowd before you. Loyal Mandalorians stood at the ready, eager to serve their Manda’lor, and a stranger cowered on his knees begging. An older man who came to Mandalore with a peace treaty from another world in the same corner of the galaxy as the world you ruled with your love. You held a hand back toward Din without looking, and you felt him slid the familiar metal of your shared weapon into your grip.

The man began to cry harder as you skillfully activated the saber⏤ spinning it twice in your hands with the muscle memory of a once renowned Jedi. You and Din had gotten a taste of power, of ruling, and you both began to wonder: Why stop at Mandalore?

With a steady swing, you cut the man down and watched his body crumble down the steps. There was no room for peace. With the saber at your side, you and Din planned to take and conquer as your hearts desired. 

After all, who could possibly stand in the way of the ruthless Mand’alor and his bloodthirsty, once Jedi trained Queen?

.

[here is the happy end]