#i need to check out more resource packs n such

[milla-frenchy]

Blackmail

4k5 | Javier Peña x fem reader x Joel Miller Summary: in exchange for his help to let Joel and you out of the QZ, a new soldier, Javier, asks him for something more than just ration cards Warnings: 18+ mdni. Dubcon. Cucking chair, praise kink, oral (f/m receiving), unprotected piv, rimming, anal, threesome, double penetration, creampie a/n: @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog Kate, I can't thank you enough for helping me and beta-ing me. Thank you SO MUCH ILY 🫶🫶🫶❤️❤️❤️

Playlist | ao3 | series masterlist

Masterlist

Joel had to go pick up supplies from Bill and Frank. He had started to prepare his equipment for the next evening, and was waiting for the usual guard to give him the agreed Oxy pills. But another guard showed up at the appointment. A new one, arrived in the QZ a few weeks ago. Joel had seen him some times since then, and he didn't like his smugness.

“John was assigned to another position. He told me about you. You’re gonna do business with me, Miller, if you want to get out of the QZ tomorrow.”

Joel frowned. Annoyed by this unexpected situation, and having to deal with a soldier he didn't know, and whose smirk he just wanted to wipe off his face.

“And John thought I would trust a guy who just got here?”

“John and I were together in Kansas City, before he came to Boston. The KC QZ is down now, and I joined him here so that we work as a team like we did there. There are guys like you in every QZ Miller, don’t think you’re the boss.”

Joel smiled and said “you have a big mouth for a new guy. I'll check if John can vouch for you, and we'll do business if everything’s ok. Your name?"

“Javier Peña. Peña, to you” he said with a smirk. Joel thought Peña was an asshole and the worst part was he totally owned it.

Joel handed the usual ration cards to Peña, who laughed at him.

"Oh no. I'm not a softy like John. You’re gonna have to give me more than that if you want to get out.”

Joel’s nostrils wrinkled at this guy’s insolence.

“Your price?”

“Oh, no worries, it will cost you a lot less in resources.”

“Spit it out.”

"Your girlfriend. Tonight," Peña smirked.

Joel grabbed Peña by the throat and pushed him against the wall, but the man pushed him back.

“I saw you walking around with her in the area. You must be proud to walk around with a woman like that. You see I'm nice, it won't cost you anything in ration cards."

Joel smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

“You know Miller, I know enough about you to ruin your life here. Your small domination of the contraband market, if you don't want it to end, you'll have to review your priorities. And your possessions. It's up to you how much you need to get outta the QZ tomorrow night"

Joel was thinking fast. His desire to beat Peña’s face quickly gave way to his concern about rationing. Survival was complicated in the QZ, with Fireflies' bombardments creating a shortage of supplies. He looked Peña in the eye and said, “see you here in 2 hours”

“Sure, Miller,” the man replied with a smirk.

Joel came back to the apartment, you were packing your backpack getting ready to leave for Bill and Frank’s. As soon as he entered, you saw that something was wrong.

“What’s going on?”

“John has been reassigned. A new guard took over. I stopped by at John’s before coming home, the guy is sure”

“Okay, what’s the problem then?”

"His price."

“Damn Joel, we’re almost out of ration cards. How much does he want?”

“He doesn't want cards. He wants… fuck… He wants you. Tonight”

You leaned back in your chair when you heard his words “son of a bitch…”

“We’ll think of something. We'll try to exit through another passage,” Joel said.

"You know we can’t, we already tried. Damn that motherfucker… what did you tell him?”

“That I'll meet him… in an hour now, at the usual rdv point.”

"OK. We’ll go meet him then.” You saw Joel’s look, and you explained to him: “we’ll try to find something else to offer him”

You looked at each other, gloomily. One motherfucker was screwing up your business, asking you the worst possible thing.

When you arrived, Peña wasn't there. Just as you were about to leave, he showed up.

“You make us wonder if you’re serious, Peña. Will you be that punctual when you have to take us out?”

“When I take you out, we’ll be doing business. Here, we lay the foundations, right?”

He turned to you, and looked at you from head to toe.

“You’re pretty, Hermosa. Ready to do business with me?”

“We can offer you pills. Meds. What do you want instead of ration cards?”

“The problem, Hermosa, is that I don’t need any pills or meds. I'm not some junkie guard you can pressure in exchange for his fix. My offer is non-negotiable. Either we agree right now, or you take another path.”

He looked at you, then at Joel, smiled and said “Oh right… there ain't any other paths”

You looked at Joel who was clenching his fists, furious. And you said, “Okay. My terms.”

“Let’s see if you can be reasonable”, Peña replied, smiling

“Our apartment. Joel will be there the whole time. And it will only happen once.”

“Mmmm… I don’t mind the idea of ​​having an audience. But it will be in my apartment, no way I’m going to yours, what if it’s a trap. And it will happen once, okay. Once per exit. If you need to leave the QZ again, the conditions will be the same”

Peña looked at you, then at Joel. “Deal?”

You answered “deal”, with a crestfallen face. Joel nodded, his lips pursed.

"Perfect! Pleasure making business with you!” The soldier was smiling again. 

As you were leaving, you heard him say “Don’t fuck with me Miller”

Neither of you turned around.

You walked home in silence. Once home, Joel let his anger out “No way. No way we’re letting him win this… that… That’s insane. As if you are a fucking commodity”

“Enough Joel”

“Enough? How can you be so calm?”

"We have no choice. Many women go through… this to get resources. I had to do it in the past.”

Your gaze softened when you saw Joel’s expression.

“I’m supposed to prevent this from happening, sweetheart”

“We have no choice, Joel. This bastard got us. But we’ll get out of this. And we’re gonna grab everything we need so we won’t have to go out before this asshole gets assigned somewhere else.”

You arrived at Peña's apartment at the agreed time.

He opened the door, a cigarette in his mouth and a smile on his lips, and you saw him for the first time without his uniform and helmet.

Brown mustache, broad shoulders. Tight black shirt that showed off his biceps. Tight black jeans. Quite a handsome man, you thought. Telling yourself that it would possibly be more pleasant that way, before feeling guilty. 

Joel’s presence made you hope that he wouldn’t behave like a total psycho.

He let you in, and gave Joel a nod, to which he didn’t respond.

A bottle of whiskey and 3 glasses were placed on the coffee table in his living room. His apartment was clean and smelled good. Turning your head to the right, you saw part of his bedroom. His bed with white sheets. Looking good.

You swallowed your saliva, and said “let’s get it over with, Peña”

He smiled at you, and said “Javier for you. Javi even, if we get along”

You rolled your eyes and placed your hand on Joel’s arm, ready to explode.

Javier filled the three glasses and said "let's have a drink, we're not savages."

Javier was enjoying his drink looking at you, smiling.

Joel finished his quickly, tapping the glass against the table to set it down.

You drank yours in one go, in need of liquid courage.

Without taking his eyes off you, Javier told Joel to go and sit in the armchair in his bedroom, near the bed. Joel looked at you then walked towards Javier pointing his finger at him “nothing twisted. You hurt her I’ll tear you apart”

“Relax man. I'm here for her pleasure and mine. I never hurt ladies. Quite the opposite in fact.”

Joel looked at you again and went to sit in the assigned place.

Javier extended his arm in the same direction, smiling at you - without his usual smirk - to invite you to go to the bedroom.

Near the bed, you turned towards him and began to undress.

“Wow wow Hermosa. No rush.”

You stopped your movements and lowered your arms alongside your body, while Javi moved closer to you.

To your astonishment, he caressed your cheek with his hand, and kissed your other cheek delicately. His mustache brushed against your skin, it was silky and didn't sting. He smelled good. 

“You’re beautiful, baby”

You were confused.

“Listen, Hermosa. I’m not a freak. I won’t hurt you. I just want us to have a good time. Not just me, but you too. If you let me take care of you, maybe it will be more pleasant for you, and for me too. And your boyfriend sitting next to you might be able to relax too.”

Your gaze shifted from Javier’s eyes to Joel’s, who nodded. He also thought that it would be more pleasant for you if you could relax.

You thought about the times you had to have sex with men in exchange for equipment, ammo, meds. When you had to look at the ceiling waiting for them to finish, with the urge to vomit at hearing their grunts. And when, disgusted, you did your best to make them cum in your mouth as quickly as possible.

Ok…why not try something else and let him do as he said?

“Can I have another glass of whiskey?” you asked. 

“Of course, Hermosa”. He went to get the bottle and the three glasses, which he filled. You bottomed yours in one go, and said “Ok, Javier” using his first name to try to keep him in this rather… pleasant state of mind.

Joel had his 2nd drink.

Javier didn't.

Javier moved closer to you, unbuttoning your blouse, and brushing his hands over your breasts, going down to each button. You couldn’t help but shiver when you felt his touch, which made him smile.

He pushed aside the tails of your blouse and revealed your breasts in a bra. Their soft plus, spilling out.

“your breasts are beautiful Hermosa”

He took them in his hands gently, stroking their roundness, then slipped his hands behind your back to unhook your bra. He took it off and dropped it to the floor, before taking one nipple in his mouth and sucking it gently, your other breast covered by his warm hand. You moaned and closed your eyes under the effect of his mouth and his tongue. He was good at it. You opened your eyes, looking at Joel, who nodded again, and saw him readjusting in his jeans.

Your attention shifted back to Javier, who was unbuttoning your pants and then tugged them down to the top of your thighs. He slid his hand against your crotch and felt your wetness in your panties. He smiled.

He kissed you, first placing his lips on yours, and pressing your body against his. You felt the bulge of his crotch as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, mingling it with yours. You welcomed him with desire, his actions and words made you forget why you were in this soldier's bedroom, with your partner watching you, sitting in an armchair near the bed.

Javier grabbed the hem of your panties and pulled them down, getting on his knees as he grabbed your pants as well, before removing the entire thing from your ankles.

He looked at you and just when you thought he was going to get up, he ran his tongue over your pussy. You tensed and looked at Joel who had grabbed the arms of the chair. You shook your head “no”, telling him to stay seated.

No man you had to fuck for resources had ever eaten you out. They were there to fuck, and didn't care about your pleasure. This was… new. And even if the intimacy made you uncomfortable, the contact of his tongue was already having its effects.

"You're wet, Hermosa. Good"

And you couldn't help biting your lip and closing your eyes, as he continued to lick you gently, parting your pussy with his fingers so he could push his tongue deeper between your folds.

You put your hand over your mouth, holding back a moan. No one else had made you cum, besides Joel, in years. And you were now standing in front of a man who had blackmailed you, and whom you had met a few hours before.

Javier got up, and asked you in a soft voice to go sit on the bed. Then he took off his shirt, revealing his broad, hairless torso. He was handsome, muscular, but not too much. His broad shoulders made you want to curl up on them like a cat. 

Then he unzipped his jeans.

He approached you and you looked at Joel, who had a less… furious look than you thought. You looked at Javi’s crotch, he was hard. Before you could think about it further, Javi was in front of you.

“I won’t force you to suck my dick. But I really wish you would, when I see those pretty lips. Would you like to pull down my jeans and see if you like my cock enough to?”

Shit… you definitely didn’t expect the evening to go like that.

You placed your hands on his hips, and looked at the bulge that the jeans couldn't hide. He had a big cock. You started to pull down his jeans. He had no underwear. His cock sprang out, pointing up at the ceiling.

“Fuck…”

He smiled and said “come on baby, don’t tell me that this big guy doesn’t have a big cock too. Everything about him exudes cock domination. The big, strong, man everyone is afraid of”. But apparently not Javi.

You looked up at Javier then rolled your eyes.

You looked down at his cock again. Pink. A few veins, including a major one on the side. He was well groomed, his balls firm and… tempting.

The  thickness and length was equivalent to Joel's cock.

You hesitated for one last second then spat into your hand, before grabbing his cock and starting to jerk him off.

Joel in the armchair, was watching you from the side, then his eyes raised towards Javier who was caressing your cheek. His blood, which was boiling with anger, gradually gave way to the excitement. He never thought that would be the case, but seeing you seduced by another man, wanting another man, excited him. He felt more and more cramped in his jeans.

You grabbed Javier by the hips and pulled him closer to you, before running your saliva onto the tip of his cock. You placed your thumb and swirled it gently before starting to jerk him again. Then you brought your tongue closer, and licked his slit, tasting his precum, slightly salty. You moaned and took him into your mouth, gently sucking and licking his tip. His cock felt…good. The more you had his cock in your mouth, the more you salivated. You lowered your mouth to the edges of his tip, licking them with the tip of your tongue, before taking him entirely back into your mouth, this time encircling him with your lips, and starting a back and forth movement where you took him more and more into your mouth.

“Fuck Hermosa you… that’s so good”  Javier hadn't said a word for several minutes, your effect on him was that big.

Your hand that was placed on his hip came down to cup his balls. 

“Damn… you’re gonna kill me”

You were sucking his full length, your nose burying in his pubic hairs. You moaned, having forgotten the situation completely. You moved your mouth up from the base of his shaft to the tip, wrapping your lips around it, then you pulled him out of your mouth.

You couldn't resist tasting his balls. You looked up at him, the tip of your tongue level with the tip of his cock, and gently lowered it down to his balls.

“Mierda…”

You started to jerk him off again, and you licked his ball. Hairless. You felt it rolling under your tongue, before moving on to the second one. You licked them for a long time, moving from one to the other, before taking his cock back into your mouth and sucking his entire length.

Javier’s hands, previously resting on your head without applying pressure, began to press against your temples. He accompanied your movement, moaning, until he said “ok pretty girl, come lie down otherwise I’m gonna cum in your mouth”

You released him, licking his tip one last time, and lay down, looking at Joel. He had unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock. Hands resting on the arms of the chair.

Javi removed his jeans and came to lie down, his head between your legs. “I can’t wait to have my mouth on you, the taste was delicious”

He parted your folds with his fingers, and without taking his eyes off you he ran his tongue over your wet pussy, from your hole to the clit. You moaned and said “oh god…Javi”, cupping your breasts in your hands. You spread your thighs to give him more access and you heard him say "mmm...you taste so good Hermosa...you're so wet"

You looked at Joel again. He held his cock in his hand and was jerking himself gently. He looked wrecked. He saw your gaze blurring with pleasure, and he gripped his cock tighter, continuing to jerk off.

Javi was still eating you out, running his tongue through your folds, then lingering on your clit. He gently rubbed against the mattress and you heard him moan. You felt his fingers caress your pussy, mingling with his tongue. Then he inserted two fingers into your soaking pussy, focusing on your clit with his tongue.

“I want you to cum on my tongue and on my fingers hermosa. Cum for me, I wanna hear you”

He turned his fingers to find your sensitive spot, you felt an incredible heat and pleasure rising from deep within your insides. He came to place a hand on yours, which was caressing your breasts, continuing to finger fuck you with the other, and to suck your clit with his tongue.

‘Oh Javi… Javi… I’m gonna come. Please continue. Oh my god.. Oh… Javi!!!”

You exploded in pleasure, your stomach tightening in spasms. He continued to suck on your clit gently, then when your twitching subsided, his tongue joined his fingers inside your pussy. He groaned as he licked all your juices.

He then moved away from your crotch, his mouth and chin glistening. He wiped them with the back of his hand, smiling.

"It doesn't surprise me that you want to keep her so much" he told Joel, but without insolence this time.

“I’m gonna fuck you now baby”

He lay down between your legs and took his cock in his hand, before inserting the tip into your pussy. He stopped at the entrance and kissed you languidly, his tongue searching for yours, then sucking it from his lips. While the two of you were still kissing, he slowly pushed in half of his cock, before pulling back and then pushing in again, this time bottoming out.

He groaned and started to fuck you. Slowly and deeply. You felt every nerve rubbing inside you. His rhythm was soft and sensual. He kissed your cheek, and watched you before kissing you again, softly.

Then he said, still looking at you “wanna join us Miller?”

You widened your eyes, before turning your surprised gaze to Joel.

“I can share. I'm sure the two of us would do you even more good. So?" he asked looking at Joel who was looking at you. You swallowed, and nodded at him. Joel waited a few seconds, stunned by the situation. Then he got up and took off his clothes, before moving closer to the bed. Javi pulled out of you, and said “take my place”. You looked at them and felt yourself getting even wetter.

Joel moved between your legs, stroked your hair with one hand, and entered you gently.

“Oh fuck… Joel…”

Joel closed his eyes from the pleasure he felt. Fucking you after Javier woke something animalistic in him. Feline.

His hips thrusts were almost as gentle as those of Javier, who had settled into the chair that Joel had occupied a few minutes before, jerking off.

“Do you like being shared like that hermosa?”

Your eyes locked with Joel's, you nodded “yeah… yeah I love that”

After a few minutes, Javi stood up and said, "on all fours, pretty girl"

Joel got up, and you settled on your hands and knees. Javi came to sit against the headboard in front of you, his cock clutched in his hand.

Joel put his hands on your hips, and thrust into you, picking up a faster pace this time.

You took Javi’s cock in ​​your hand, and began to suck him, to the rhythm of Joel's cock strokes.

“That’s good hermosa… you’re doing so well. Do you like that, having both of our cocks in you?”

You nodded, your mouth full of his cock. You worked hard to suck him deeper and deeper.

Joel groaned as he watched you suck Javi, and he started to fuck you harder. The pace kept you from taking as much of Javi into your mouth as you wanted, causing you to groan at the loss, and you focused on his tip with your tongue.

Joel slowed down and said "you wanna suck him sweetheart? All of him? Go ahead, suck him”

"Come on Hermosa, listen to your man. He wants you to feel good"

You grabbed the base of his cock, and took him back into your mouth, sucking up and down, deeper and deeper each time. Until he held your head with his hand, and told you "keep me warm princess"

Joel stopped and frowned, waiting for your reaction, to see if you wanted to back off or not. You didn't move, and kept Javi's cock deep in your throat until he released you.

“Good girl”, he said. 

You resumed your movement, and that time Joel grabbed your neck, holding you down on Javi's cock back down your throat, which made him smile.

Joel released his grip, but kept his hand on your neck, accompanying your movements.

Joel picked up the pace slightly again, making you moan under his thrusts. He slid his hand up to your clit, and brushed it gently, before rolling it under his finger. You moaned, Javi’s cock deep in your throat for the 3rd time.

“Come on, cum for both of us this time hermosa. Cum with his cock deep in your pussy and my cock in your throat”

Javi's words turned you on to the max, Joel stroked you just right to make you cum, and you moaned during the climax of your pleasure, your nose in Javi's public hair again.

Joel slipped out off you and said "fuck him now sweetheart". Javi slid underneath you to lay down, you took his cock in your hand and pushed him inside you. Both of you moaned.

Joel sat on his knees, staying behind you, and he spread your ass cheeks with his hands to watch Javi’s cock sink into your pussy.

“Fuck baby… I never thought it would turn me on so much to see you take a cock other than mine”

“Yeah baby? You like that?”

“Mmm mmm”

Joel leaned over your ass, and dropped his saliva on it. He placed his thumb on the ring, and began to caress you.

He told you “wanna try more baby”?

You turned to look at him, and said “Yes Joel…. Yeah” You looked at Javi, who said “fuck me…” with a surprised but delighted look.

Joel spread your cheeks, and licked your ass. Dripped saliva on it. Touched it with his thumb. Then he focused his tongue on it, working to roll it against your ring to relax it.

“Do you like it Hermosa? Do you like getting your ass licked?”

“Yeah… fuck… yeah i love that”

Regularly, Joel would pass your thumb over your ass, bringing it in gradually, spreading your buttocks as far as possible. The indecent position excited you immensely, coupled with Javi's cock ravaging your pussy.

“You have lube Peña?”

“Yeah 1st dresser drawer”. Joel went to retrieve it, opened the bottle and took a dab on his fingers, coming to apply it on your ass. His thumb went in easily now.

Javi gave you a boost for a few minutes, before slowing down to let Joel settle in.

“You’re naughty, baby… you know that?”

You licked his lips before biting them gently.

Joel opened the bottle again and applied lube to his cock, then he settled between your legs.

“Ready baby?”

“Yeah… go ahead Joel, fuck me”

"You often take it in the ass?" Javi asked. 

“Yes… but the double, it will be the first time”

“Ok hermosa, you’re in good hands”

Javi stopped, his cock buried in your pussy, letting Joel manage the pace. Joel pressed his cock against your ass, and began to thrust, your ring gently spreading as he went in. 

You felt every inch of your body acclimating to his shaft.

He pushed in slowly, grunting. Before pulling back, and pushing again. He started to move back and forth, until his balls hit against your pussy occupied by Javi's cock.

“Fuck baby… didn’t know you were such a slut.”

Each of them felt the other's cock through the thin wall of flesh.

Your clit rubbed against Javi, you felt your pleasure rising. Joel’s hands were fixed on your waist, Javi’s on your hips. You weren’t moving, letting your body sway according to their movements.

Looking up, you saw that Javi’s gaze was on Joel, watching him with a satisfied smile.

Javi looked down at your jiggling breasts and said, “Cum hermosa. One last time. Squeeze our cocks, make us cum in both your holes”

You kissed him, in a messy way, until your orgasm made you capsize. They gave you time to come back to yourself, then gradually increased the pace, until they were fucking you hard.

Javi said “I’m gonna cum…I’m gonna fill your pussy. You have an after pill, Miller?”

“Yeah go ahead. Fill her up”

Javi kissed you passionately until his moans became grunts, and you felt him shoot the jets of cum deep into your pussy. He pulled out, and you heard Joel's panting speed up.

Joel's hands tightened on your hips, and he froze deep in your ass, sending his hot cum deep into your insides.

He collapsed on your back, while you were lying on top of Javi.

Your breathing struggled to calm down.

Then Joel got up, and Javi followed him. 

You laid down on your stomach, and felt their cum dripping from both of your sore and swollen holes.

“Well… you deserve to go out of the QZ tomorrow,” Javi said, smiling.

Part 2

**********************

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

Follow @millafics and turn notifications on for fics updates

[not-neverland06]

Alone and Forsaken

one-shot

Joel Miller x fem!reader

A/N: I got COVID and haven't had a coherent thought in five days, so if this doesn't make sense it's not my fault, it's the virus. (Thank you @benkeibear for the dividers)

Summary: You're aren't anything to Joel Miller. You're a comfort, habit, and necessity. But you've never been anything more. It gets to you and you do what you always do, you run. When you make the permanent move to Jackson you've got no choice but to face the truth of what you are to each other.

WC: 9.4K

Part two here

You glanced down at Ellie, sweat was beading on her forehead and she was shivering in her sleeping bag. You glanced towards Joel, he was staring down at his gun, he’d been cleaning it for the past ten minutes. 

“We’re right near Jack-”

“No,” his voice was rough, a command rather than an interruption. You sighed and went back to crafting some arrows for Ellie. “We’ll find some medicine tomorrow.”

You gave a noncommittal hum, you could hear him sigh from across the fire. You’d managed to clean out an old office today, you were camping out on the roof. Joel had determined the fog provided enough cover to not have to worry about others seeing the smoke. 

He placed his gun down and leaned his elbows on his knees, you could feel his stare boring into you but you refused to give in. He wasn’t the only one who could be a stubborn bastard. “Y/N-”

“You’re acting like an old fool.”

He scoffed, “I’m not that old.”

“Joel,” you finally glanced up. “Ellie needs medicine, we’re right near your brother’s we might as well see if he’s got anything.” He stared at you for a long moment, not saying anything, until his shoulders slumped and he shrugged. He went back to cleaning his gun and you could tell he had conceded. 

You’d made it to Jackson a year ago after the Firefly incident at the hospital. But it had been too much for all three of you. Years of killing, fighting to keep yourself alive, all on your own, it was too jarring to be in such a quaint little place. 

You couldn’t wake up every morning to a “Howdy, neighbor!” like nothing had changed. There were too many people and it was too forceful a transition from fighting for every last resource to suddenly having everything willingly handed to you. 

Eventually, when it became too tiring to keep fighting, you were sure you would move back to Jackson. For now, each of you enjoyed the freedom of not having to fight for anyone but yourselves. It was an occasional pit stop for supplies and a dose of normalcy. 

You’d been on the road for about six months now, it was time to cycle back onto the path towards Tommy. 

Good timing too, about two days ago Ellie had a sore throat and now she’s pretty much deadweight behind you both. “We’ll head out at dawn.” Joel stood up, nothing more to say, and took first watch. You tucked your arrows away and laid down, hoping to get some sleep before you were on the move again. 

“How much further?”

“Another few miles,” Joel glanced over his shoulder at you. “How’s she doing?”

“I’m doing fine,” Ellie interrupted. But it was hard to believe her when her voice was a barely audible croak and she was leaning against you for support. 

Joel sighed and glanced towards his right, there was a creek and a sunny patch of grass. He started towards it, dropping his pack on a rock and coming to a stop. “We’ll stop here for a break.”

“I said I’m fin-” 

She interrupted herself with a cough that was so jarring you winced. It sounded like her throat was being ripped apart. When she finally caught her breath she reluctantly followed you towards the creek next to Joel. “I’ll check out the area, we shouldn’t be out here long.”

Joel nodded, standing guard next to Ellie while she wheezed trying to catch her breath. You moved away from them, going to check the surrounding area. Just when you deemed too much time had passed and were about to turn around you could feel something cold pressing into the back of your head. 

“Don’t move.”

You slowly dropped your rifle to the forest floor, raising your hands in surrender as the person behind you pulled back the hammer of their gun. “Okay, it’s okay, we can talk about this.” The gun pulled back abruptly and then they were in front of you. 

“Y/N! Damn girl, almost killed you.” Tommy tucked his gun into his holster and pulled you into a brief hug. You sighed and picked your gun back up. 

“The hell are you doing this far out?”

“Been seeing a lot of infected, had to start patrolling out further.” Tommy peered around you, looking for something. “Joel with you?”

You nodded, leading him back to Joel. There was a brief reunion, nothing much considering they’ve been seeing each other a lot more than they used to. Tommy took Ellie on his horse back to Jackson, said it would be faster that way. 

You and Joel still had a few more miles left, walking in silence side by side. 

The silence, as always, had you contemplating your something with Joel. Because you wouldn’t say you and Joel were in a relationship. You’d both loved and lost too much in your life to ever truly be open to something like that again. 

But you granted each other a softness you didn’t offer anyone else. There was an unspoken connection between the two of you that never went acknowledged. You glanced over at him, nudging his arm with your elbow. “More excited about coffee or a shower?”

“More excited about you finally showering.”

You scoffed in faux offense and shoved him lightly. His eyes crinkled, the crow’s feet becoming more prominent as he smirked at you. “Jerk. I smell amazing,” that was a blatant lie. Neither of you smelled great. It���d been about a week since you’d had a chance to really freshen up. Still, it was always fun to mess with him a little bit. 

When you finally made it to Jackson you moved quickly through the inspection station, showing the medics your bite-free body and then headed towards Ellie. 

She was already knocked out, whatever flu medicine they’d managed to scrounge up had done its job quickly. Maria led you to a house at the far end of town, you watched as Joel entered the one across from you. 

You showered, enjoying the foreign feeling of fresh, hot, water running over your skin. You used the clothes Maria provided you, but after an hour of just wandering around the house you were starting to feel restless. 

You had sat on the couch, stared at the black screen of the TV, and gotten back up about three times. You huffed out an irritated breath and headed towards the door. You weren’t sure where you were going but the quiet was starting to feel suffocating. 

The pristine, cozy house, was overwhelming you with memories of a past best left forgotten. You opened the door-

“Why!”

“Shit,” Joel grimaced, offering you an awkward pat on the shoulder instead of an apology. You rubbed your forehead, pain radiating from where he’d hit you. “I was trying to knock, didn’t think you’d open the door.”

You sighed, glancing up at him and shrugging. “I can’t stand being in here. House is too…”

“Big,” he finished. You nodded, stepping outside and joining him on the porch. You both started walking, heading towards his house, the one that actually had chairs on the patio. Luckily the houses you were staying in this time around were farther away from everyone else. 

People walking with their families was a distant noise that was barely discernible. 

Families

The thought made you want to scoff. Families in the apocalypse, fucking ridiculous. “It’s peaceful here.”

“For them,” you glanced at Joel and he seemed to share the same thought as you. You’d changed too much, spilled too much blood to ever let yourself be fully comfortable in a place like this. 

“Do you think you could ever be happy here?” 

You glanced across the street at the large looming house you had just been in. “Not in there, it’s too big for one person.” He nodded, his fingers drumming a soundless tune against his jeans while he sat with you. 

“Went down and saw Ellie while you were cleaning up. She’s making friends.”

You looked at him in astonishment. Hard to believe she was bedridden and being pleasant. He laughed a little and shook his head. “Well, I suppose they were interrogating her more than anything.”

You smiled slightly, “That’s more like it.” 

He was looking off at the town, viewing the few distant people you could see. “She’s been asking to come back a lot more. I think she likes movie nights.” You sighed, knowing where this was going. You supposed the change was inevitable, you had just really hoped that you could push it off a little while longer. 

You just weren’t ready. 

“House is too big for me, too. Maybe it needs two people.” He was already looking at you when you turned to face him. His face didn’t betray anything but a type of tiredness that was set deep in someone’s bones. 

You could say no, go off on your own. You’d make it a little while longer but the loneliness would get to you and eventually you’d slip up. Be torn apart or turned. 

Besides, you weren’t ready to leave them, leave him. Not yet. 

“Yeah, maybe.”

One Year Later

“Morning.”

You groaned at the sound of Joel’s voice, rolling over and covering your head with a pillow. He laughed and you could feel it reverberate through your back where his chest was resting on you. 

“Come on, darling. It’s noon, you have to take care of the sheep today.” 

You weren’t exactly verbal when you’re woken up abruptly. So you just grumbled-most likely something incredibly rude-under your breath and curled up into a ball.

Joel chuckled again, his arms wrapped around your waist and rolled you over. He dragged you out of the warmth of the blankets and directly back into the sunlit room. “Joel,” you groaned. “Five more minutes.”

“Nope.” He stood up, you still slightly in his arms. He half carried and half dragged you out of bed. You held onto the blankets and kept your eyes closed as long as you could. But when your feet touched the cool wood you conceded that your day had started. Whether you wanted it to or not. “Ugh, you’re a real piece of work. You know that?”

Joel let out a surprised scoff as you walked past him into the bathroom. You could hear him muttering under his breath about who was really the piece of work in this home. But he didn’t say anything to you, just joined you at the sink to brush his teeth.

Sometimes the normalcy was nice. You’d wake up and most days Joel was there next to you. Or he was making you both breakfast, or occasionally a note left next to a plate of food telling you he was out on patrol. 

You spent most of your time together, sharing the big old house while Ellie slept in the converted shed out back. But days like today, where he tried to joke with you while he brushed his teeth but his voice was too thick with sleep and you couldn’t understand his accent, they made you ache. 

Your heart would pulse painfully and you’d have to look away from him. You shared the same bed, lived in the same house. But you didn’t mean anything to him. You were just an old friend there to keep him warm at night. 

You’re pretty sure you’d both been traveling together for so long that it was habit and necessity that kept you together more than anything. You wished, yearned for more from him, but you knew he could never give it to you. You knew it was an impossible ask. 

Which made staying with him start to feel more suffocating. You feel like another part of his routine. Something akin to brushing his teeth rather than genuinely wanting you around, a chore. And you couldn’t handle that feeling anymore. 

You were drowning in the comfort of Jackson. But you were too much of a coward to ever fully leave him. Too hopeful to let go of that one fleeting feeling that maybe one day you could be more to him.

Joel smiled at you as you made your way downstairs. “I got your lunch, you should probably head out now. You’re already late.”

You took the bag from him, thanking him and left for the sheep. And that night when your shift was over you’d look over at Joel’s house. You’d see him strumming lightly on his guitar as he waited for you and you’d slip out of Jackson’s walls. Unwilling to face another night of heartache that made you feel so ridiculous. 

2 Years Later

“Y/N in here? Jesse’s looking for her.”

Joel glanced up from his guitar, he had been tuning it when Ellie’s head popped over his porch rail. “No, haven’t seen her in a couple days.”

He’d known being in Jackson was too much for you. Sometimes when he was getting a drink at the bar he could feel his skin crawling with how many people were surrounding him. His instinct to always be on guard, always be alert, was not easily lost after so many years. 

There was the siren’s call of peace here in this town, but he still had to patrol. Still had you, Ellie, and himself to look out for. He could never afford to let himself fully settle into the calm reprieve of Jackson. It would end up screwing him over only when he was outside the safety of the walls. 

So he sat, always a curling, burning feeling in his stomach as he tried to untense his shoulders. Join his brother for a ‘family’ dinner. Plaster on as friendly a grimace as he could when his neighbors would wave in the morning. 

You were not the same. You didn’t bother with pretending to be happy for Ellie’s comfort. You patrolled near constantly, outside the walls more than you were in. Which set him even more on edge. You’d be gone for days at a time before mysteriously appearing in his bed one morning. 

You’d smile then, as genuine a smile you could manage. Every time he’d ask where you’d gone and you would tell him you needed some air. He never asked what you did on the outside, where the bruises came from or what you’d done to earn them. 

You would eat breakfast, listen to him strum on his guitar and in a few more days disappear again. He thinks one of these days, now that Ellie’s grown, he might just disappear alongside you. Ellie sighed, “What’s Jesse want with her?” Joel asked. 

“He was gonna have her patrol with him today,” she had a shit-eating grin on her face as she propped her head in her hand. “I think he’s got a crush on her.”

Joel barked out a laugh, imagining Jesse pining after someone as disinterested as you. He’s sure he just admires you like he admires Joel. He looks up to you, probably just presents differently. “I’d love to see him try something,” he said through laughter.

Ellie shook her head, walking up the stairs and sitting next to him. “I’m pretty sure he’s terrified of her.”

He shook his head, “Rough combo.” Poor kid probably didn’t realize you weren’t mean, you just had a real bad resting face. “Ya know, I gotta head out soon. I can see if I can find her.”

Ellie perked up, crossing her legs as she leaned back in the rocking chair. “Would you?”

“Sure,” Joel went to place his guitar down but Ellie stopped him. 

“What’re you working on?”

“Oh,” he glanced at the instrument and shrugged. He wasn’t sure, really. He’d had to step back from patrolling as much as he used to. The cold was fucking with his back and knees. Made it harder for him to be as fast as he should be. You liked to tease him about it, call him an old man, but he caught you rubbing your shoulder every time it was about to rain. 

But without the ability to go on rides or kill infected, he was beginning to feel restless again. An uncomfortable thrumming under his skin that screamed at him to move, do something. So he screwed around with the guitar, tried to sing something, but nothing came out. 

He passed it over to Ellie, she immediately propped it on her lap, strumming something soft. “Nothing really, just needed something to do.” He sat with her a little while longer, giving her pointers as she went over some songs she’d been writing. 

He groaned as he got off the old rocking chair, saying goodbye to Ellie and heading to the stables. He was sure you were nearby, somewhere in a three mile perimeter of town. You’d been gone about four days, usually you’d be coming back by now. 

Tommy was waiting for him as he got his horse. “Partnering up today.”

“Alright,” Joel rode up to the barred gate of Jackson, waiting for the doors to open. “Ellie wanted me to look for Y/N while we’re out here.”

Tommy’s brows furrowed as he glanced at him. “She still gone?”

Joel hummed an affirmative, brushing the hair out of his eyes in irritation. You’d have to cut it again, it had gotten too damn long. He felt like one of the stupid teenage boys in town, always blowing his damn hair out of his face. 

“Where’d ya wanna head first?”

“She likes lurking around that old ski resort. We’ll see if she’s there first. If not, I’m sure she’ll pop up soon.” 

They rode in silence for a little while before Tommy sighed. Clearly growing bored with the lack of conversation. Joel let his brother suffer, watching in amusement as he shifted back and forth in his saddle and tried to think of what to say. 

He finally broke, showing Tommy some mercy. “Jesus, boy, spit it out.”

“It’s just,” Tommy paused, slowing down his mare to match Joel’s slow pace. “It doesn’t bother you?”

“What?”

“Her being out her on her own all the time. I mean, if Maria left as often as Y/N does I’d be losing my mind.”

“Well,” Joel sighed, “I’m a lot tougher than you are.”

Tommy scoffed, glaring at him. “Whatever smartass, I wasn’t screwing around, I want to know.”

“Fine. Don’t know why you’re so damn interested.” Joel shrugged, thinking about it before finally answering. “Yeah, I guess it bothers me, a little. I mean, I’ve known her a long time. I know she can handle herself, I’m not really worried about her dying or nothing. I’m more worried about her just deciding she wants to be gone for good and leaving.”

Tommy was quiet for a bit, leaving Joel uncomfortable. The answer wasn’t very deep. It didn’t share a lot, but it left him feeling a particular shade of vulnerable that had him shifting around. He rolled his shoulders back, focusing on the feeling of snow nipping at his cheeks rather than his younger brother’s nosy stare. 

“I woudln’t worry about that.”

“Yeah,” Joel’s voice was curt, snappier than usual. “Why’s that?”

“Well, I don’t fucking know why, but she likes you. Likes Ellie, she might not love Jackson, but she wouldn’t just leave you guys.”

“Since when the hell are you an expert?”

Tommy smirked, “Since I got married.” Joel rolled his eyes, his brother had gotten entirely too smug when he married Maria. Suddenly, being married, made him an expert in anything and everything. He certaintly didn’t know a damn thing about Joel’s love life. 

Or lack thereof. 

Because you’d never talked about what you were, if you even were anything. That’s probably why it set him on edge so much when you left. You weren’t his to love or keep-honestly he wasn’t sure he was capable of that type of love anymore. 

You were friends. Allies more than anything, which was arguably more important in this world. There was nothing to tie you to him or encourage you to stay. 

He wasn’t deluded enough to believe you’d stay for Ellie. She was pretty much an adult now, and you’d never been a parent before. You didn’t know what the pain of losing a child was, she wasn’t as important to you as she was to him. 

He had no damn idea what had kept you here for so long. But he knew you were getting restless and he didn’t know how to help. 

They made it to the ski lodge and immediately leapt off their horses. There were screams coming from inside, screams that sounded a lot like yours. Joel ran for the doors, finger already on the trigger when the doors blew open. 

You looked up at him in surprise, “Joel! What’re you doing out here?” He drew back, stopping himself from slamming into you. 

His eyes scanned your form, you were covered head to toe in gore. The bandanna pushing your hair back had been a light blue, but now it was completely dyed red. Your jacket was in shreds. But you were still smiling up at him, then Tommy. 

“Jesus H Christ woman,” Tommy muttered behind him. 

You looked down at yourself, “Oh, yeah.” You sighed and once again were staring at Joel. “Fucking clickers, weren’t here before.”

“Are you alright? Were you bit?”

You waved off Joel’s concern like he was being dramatic. Like you weren’t standing before him covered head to toe in guts. “I’m fine.”

“Dammit,” you jumped slightly at the sound of his voice. He was getting a little louder, voice a little deeper as his frustration grew. He hated when you were this flippant about basic safety. “I told you to stop coming out so much, that we’d been-”

“Seeing more hordes. I know, sorry Joel, I didn’t mean to freak you out. I’ll,” you trailed off, your eyes darting around before reluctantly landing back on his. “I promise I’ll stop leaving.”

Joel glanced behind himself, but Tommy had wandered back over to the horses. He was the opposite of subtle as he whistled, clearly giving you as much privacy as he could. Joel turned back towards you and took a step closer. 

“I’m not telling you to stop coming out here completely. I don’t want to take that from you.”

You shook your head, stepping closer as you shivered. Joel figured your jacket was in tatters and you were probably freezing your ass off. He took off one of his own coats and draped it over you. “I’m being reckless, risking infecting you and Ellie by coming out so much. Besides, it’s starting to get a little lonely.”

“Well,” Joel gave you a brief smile, “maybe one of these days you should wake me up when you slip away. I’ll come out here with you.”

You grinned, “Think you’d be able to keep up, old man?”

He scoffed, slinging an arm over your shoulder and leading you back to his horse. “Could you?”

You laughed, “With you? Probably not.” He was just about to join you up on Sunny when all three of you heard a strange noise coming up towards the lifts. You had cleared out the resort. So, what could it be?

You hopped off Sunny quickly, pulling out one of your guns and following Tommy and Joel as they went back through the clicker infested hellhole you’d just cleared. The noises got louder, it sounded a lot like feet pounding up the mountain. 

You made it outside, near the resort's old supply sheds. You were checking out the area, double checking you didn’t miss any infected. You were about to turn back around when you heard a scream. 

You ran towards the source of the noise, watching as a woman was crushed under a swarming body of infested. The only thing separating her from them was a flimsy metal gate. Tommy rushed forward before either you or Joel could stop him. Grabbing her and dragging her out from the bodies. 

“Fuck!”

“Tommy!”

Both of you wanted to scream at him. That was such an unbelievably stupid thing to do. She’d had at least fifty infected on top of her, there’s no way she wasn’t bit. But beyond that she was a stranger, you had no idea if she was a piece of shit that would lead raiders right back to Jackson or not. 

You didn’t have time to scold him, though, the swarm was screaming, racing towards you all. You ran back into the resort, heart racing as you slammed the doors to the lift closed behind you. “Tommy!” Joel called out, “Help me move this!”

They worked on wheeling a broke down lift towards an open window. You turned towards the hulking woman, “Got a gun?”

She nodded and you tossed her some ammo, “Good. Don’t fucking miss.” You raced throughout the station, trying to keep infected off Tommy and Joel while they moved the lift. But there was only so much you could do. Your rifle had jammed and you had used most of your supplies taking the clickers out earlier. 

And these bastards were fast, they seemed faster than normal. Maybe the cold irritated them or something. 

You screamed, taken off your feet as a runner threw itself at you. You rolled over, shoving your gun in its mouth and pulling the trigger. Brains splattered onto your face and before you could even roll it off of you there was another one leaping at you. 

Before it could sink its teeth in your neck there was the warm feeling of blood trailing down your chest. Joel stood over you, machete buried in the infected’s back as he yanked you to your feet. He didn’t let you walk, grabbing you and practically sending you flying towards Tommy. 

You scrambled up the lift and through the window, running towards the horses and mounting Sunny. You grabbed Tommy’s mare and rode the horses back to the open window. You watched the others spill out, keeping an eye out for any more infected and letting Joel hop up in front of you. 

Tommy and the woman shared a horse as she screamed out instructions to head towards the old mansion at the top of the mountain. You were too busy keeping infected away from your group to fully realize where you were going until it was too late. 

You were already through the gates of the mansion, infected being set on fire behind you when you grasped the situation at hand. 

You’d just wandered into some stranger’s camp, nearly completely empty on ammo, battered and tired. You didn’t know who she was or who her people were. Joel and Tommy seemed to be realizing that too, each of them tensing up as they got off the horses. 

“Thanks for the help back there. I’m Abby.”

Joel offered you a hand down, you hopped off Sunny and glanced around the garage. You were definitely fucking outnumbered and they had way more ammo than you. 

You hid slightly behind Joel, taking in the amount of people and trying to gauge how many guns were in the garage. Your eye snagged on a lone shotgun on a workstation and the bullets surrounding it. 

“I’m Tommy, this is my brother Joel…” Tommy’s voice trailed off before he could introduce you. Instantly everyone in the room had turned to stare at Joel, and every single one of them looked hostile. Like he’d punched each of them in the face at one point. 

And honestly with the amount of people he’s screwed over you wouldn’t be surprised. Still, this was not promising. 

Joel tensed up in front of you, nudging you slightly behind Sunny. You ducked behind her, hoping to go unnoticed by the rest of them and praying that Sunny didn’t buck out at you. 

Abby sucked on her teeth. She stared at Joel for a long minute before nodding her head towards the door and heading up the stairs. “Joel,” you whispered.

He shook his head, subtly waving you back into place as he was forced to follow the others up the stairs. You watched them herd him and Tommy out, one of the men in the back checked his ammo was loaded and you felt your throat seize in panic. 

Shit shitshitshitshitshit

Okay, this turned into a clusterfuck so insanely fast. You waited until every set of footsteps was a distant echo to move out from behind the horses. You were nearly out the door when you double backed for the shotgun. 

You heard a shout from upstairs, your head whipping towards the open door. You raced up the stairs, “Tommy!” It was Joel shouting, panic lacing his voice. 

You can never say what happened next exactly. You made it up the stairs, heard the sound of a shotgun being cocked and you’d never run that fast in your life. 

The door to the room was open, all you could see was Abby with a gun in hand, pointing it towards Joel. Your finger was on the trigger before you could even aim properly. The shot missed, hitting the wall behind her, grazing her back slightly. 

But it caused enough of a distraction, Joel wrenched the gun from her grasp, using the butt of it to knock her out. You shot at one of the men pinning Tommy down, it caught him in the side and he dropped to the ground. Crimson pooling out around him. 

The room went quiet, each of them staring at their dead comrade. “You cunt,” the woman leapt at you, knife raised in the air. You didn’t notice her protruding stomach until you had pulled the trigger. Her legs flew out from under her, nearly completely blown off from the shotgun blast. 

There was a primal sound of pain. One you’d heard many times in your life. It came from two directions, the pregnant woman bleeding out on the ground and the man who was now  flying at you. 

He knocked you to the ground. You wrestled for control of the shotgun, his hips pinning your pelvis painfully to the floor. You groaned out in pain and panic, shoving all your weight into the gun, bringing it up to catch him in the jaw. His head knocked to the side and you shoved him off of you. 

Shots were firing all around you, different screams and insults flying past your head. You were tuning in and out, ears ringing as you wrapped your arms around the man’s neck. You pulled until it snapped. When you were done you swiped his pistol from his holster, stepping over the twitching woman below you. 

There were only three people left when you walked back into the room, Tommy and Joel disposed of them quickly while you grabbed some rope and tied up Abby. She was still knocked out, a bad bruise forming on her head. You can imagine her day was going to get a lot worse when she woke up and saw the carnage around her. 

It was a slaughter, each of her friend’s lay brutally destroyed at her feet. 

But, it was their own damn fault. They shouldn’t have tried and fucked with you all. 

“Are you okay?” It was your turn to fuss over Joel. He had clearly been their target. It had to have been someone you’d screwed over, Joel had screwed over. But the list was too long and you’d never seen this woman before. 

Joel nodded, but there was blood soaking through his jacket. You ignored his protests, ripping the jacket off and inspecting the wound. It wasn’t anything too bad, a bullet must have just skimmed his bicep. You wrapped it up pretty quickly, then you let your head fall to his chest. 

He chuckled slightly, his hand coming behind you to rest on your back. “You okay?”

“I was scared.”

Your voice was quiet, quiet enough that you almost hoped he had missed your small confession. “What?”

His hand had stilled before it moved up your back and lightly cupped your neck. He tilted your head back so you had to look at him, had to make eye contact. “I was scared.” You huffed out, nearly ashamed at presenting yourself like this to him. 

You didn’t get scared, the entire time you’ve known him you’ve each been fighting for your lives. This wasn’t anything new. But something about this really got to you. It felt more final this time. “They were after you, Joel. Had a gun pointed to your head.”

“I always have a gun pointed at my head, darling. Comes with the territory.” You rolled your eyes and stepped away from him, ignoring the way his hand lingered on your cheek for a moment before it dropped to his side. 

The door behind you all flew open and all three guns were pointed at the intruder. Ellie raised her hands and stumbled back in shock at the sight of the dead bodies around you all. “Holy shit. What the fuck happened?”

You sighed and lowered your gun, Tommy and Joel doing the same. “Ellie, head back to Dina,” you instructed. You were going to have to get some information from Abby, you were sure Joel didn’t want her to see the methods about to be used. 

Ellie opened her mouth to argue but Joel cut her off. “Do as she says, Ellie. Head back to the others and say everything’s fine and that we’ll be back soon.”

She seemed like she wanted to stay, desperately. Instead she conceded and closed the door behind her as she left. You, Joel, and Tommy each shared a look before you got to work. 

Abby was tied up in a chair, you’d wrapped her up more than you would have with anyone else, mainly because her biceps were the size of your head. 

When she finally woke up, she immediately started screaming. You’d moved the bodies of her friends, propping them up in front of her so they were the first thing she saw when she woke up. 

Tommy had left for Jackson, made sure no one would suspect why you and Joel were gone for so long. Now you were sitting on a table behind Abby while Joel started. “What are you doing here?”

“Fuck you,” she spat. 

Joel sighed and tried again, “Does anyone else know you’re here?”

Same response. It happened a few more times, she was unphased by anything Joel did to her. Just telling him to fuck off more times than you could count. You got sick of it after a while. 

You hadn’t had to torture anyone in a couple years, you were hoping to just get this over with as quickly as possible. You stood up and Joel let go of Abby’s chair, backing away from her. 

“My partner,” you started, “prefers brute force to get the answers he wants. Me,” you stood in front of Abby and pulled out your hunting knife. “I’m a little more creative.”

You dug the knife into her skin, peeling back a layer or two of epidermis and ignoring the way she screamed. Twenty years ago, you might have felt guilty for this. Now, she’d tried to hurt Joel, she’d brought this on herself. 

Five pulled nails and a lot of skin later she finally squealed. No one knew they were out here. They were stationed in Seattle and wouldn’t come looking. Joel had killed her father, the doctor from the hospital, and she wanted revenge. 

You rolled your eyes, pointing out the hypocrisy of her actions. How many fathers had she killed on her way here to get to Joel. How many lives had she taken to protect someone she loved. When she tried to argue you slit her throat and dragged the bodies to be put in the pile of burned infested. 

“Damn.” You sat behind Joel on Sunny, watching the bodies go up in flames. He turned her around, heading back towards Jackson. “What a way to start the day.”

The bed was empty when Joel woke up. He felt surprised, usually you gave him a few days before you left again. But before he could linger on the thought for too long the door to the bedroom was opening and you were walking in. Your back was to him, you were carrying something in your hands. 

When you turned around you frowned when you saw him already waiting for you. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“What are you doing?”

You swatted him away when he stood and tried to help you carry the tray in the room. You put it on the nightstand and shoved him back in bed. He could have resisted, pushed against you, but he let himself fall as he chuckled at the determined look on your face. 

You hummed and shrugged your shoulders, placing the tray in his lap. “Thought I’d bring you breakfast.” He glanced down, a plate with a stack of pancakes, bacon, and eggs. Most importantly; coffee. 

“Where the hell’d you get all this?” You didn’t answer, just had a mischievous little smirk on your face while you tidied up the room. Joel caught your wrist as you passed him, he tugged you into bed next to him, careful not to spill the tray. “Come on, help me out with all this. Can’t eat it all on my own.”

He could, and would do so eagerly. But it had been a while since he’d eaten breakfast without you rushing out the door. And for once, he was feeling domestic without the crushing weight of guilt turning the taste of your pancakes bitter in his mouth. He wanted to enjoy this, however long it lasted. 

You didn’t bother arguing, picking off some of his food while you both sat in contented silence. Eventually you broke it, sitting at the end of the bed so you could face him while he sipped on his coffee. 

Lord, he had missed the taste of caffeine. 

“Where are you working today?”

“Promised Bob I’d help him out with shoeing the horses today. You?”

“Helping Maria with fixing up that new classroom in school.”

“You're not leaving? You've been hangin’ around here a lot.”

He knew instantly he shouldn’t have opened his mouth. 

What once had been easy silence instantly turned tense. The warm sun that had filtered through the blinds was right in his eyes and causing a headache. The sheets were scratchy and that blank look on your face was oppressive. 

Your easygoing smile, one he hadn’t seen in a long time, dropped from your face and you shifted uncomfortably on top of the comforter. “Yeah, guess you're right.”

“Didn’t mean it like-”

You stood up, patting his leg with an awkward stiltedness and moved to the closet. “I should head out, promised Maria we’d get it done by end of day.” 

He knew what he said had been wrong, but he wasn’t completely sure what about it was so wrong. He watched you leave without another word and sighed to himself, getting out of bed and forcing himself from the comfort of the house. 

He’d only had a moment, one singular moment, where he’d finally been able to relax for once. And he didn’t feel restless, or anxious, or guilty about it. He’d felt at ease, a feeling so foreign it was halfway through the day before he’d finally been able to identify it. 

He was in the middle of cleaning Sunny’s hoof and he’d nearly gotten kicked in the face with his distraction. 

But he didn’t have any sort of epiphany over what could have possibly upset you so much. 

A normal person, not you apparently, would be completely unbothered by Joel’s question. Because that’s all it was. A question, a simple, understandable, inquiry about why someone as flighty as you had been in one place for so long. 

Still it stung. He’d said with a tone like ‘Why the hell are you still in my house?’ And in a crazy, uber-paranoid-lady way, it was confirmation of what you were to him. You were a daily task, necessity, and required comfort, but you were not something permanent. And you’d deluded yourself into believing you were something more. Your own fault, not something to place on Joel’s shoulders. 

Still, the bitter taste of rejection was a hard one to get off the tongue. 

“God, I’m insane.”

“What was that?”

You glanced up at Maria, momentarily having forgotten you weren’t alone. “Um, nothing, sorry.” You let yourself get lost in the repetitive motion of painting the walls of the classroom. Using old stencils they’d found or created to do a row of ABC’s and numbers along the perimeter of the wall. 

How is this what you turned into? 

You’d gone from a deadbeat smuggler who’d kill without a second thought to someone painting an elementary classroom worrying about boys. 

Well, men, you supposed. Seemed unfair to put Joel in the same category as someone like Jesse. 

Even though you were sure that Jesse would never make you feel like a chore instead of a person. 

Annnnnd… new low reached, considering Jesse as a viable option for dating. Damn, you needed a hobby or something. 

Around noon Tommy stopped by, he had sandwiches from Seth and you didn’t want to think about the lengths he’d gone through to get them from the cantankerous old asshole. 

“So,” there was a certain tone of voice Tommy would get when he was about to meddle in someone’s business. You stopped midchew to stare at him in suspicion while he smirked. Maria eyed her husband and simply sighed, resigned to let him interrogate you. “You and Joel.”

You huffed, swallowing the rest of your food and throwing the sandwich down on the plate next to you. “This was a bribe wasn’t it?”

He laughed, “Yep.” 

It was interesting to you how different Joel and Tommy were. Joel’s accent was gruff, commanding, most times hard to understand. Especially when he was pissed off. Tommy had a lightness to him the both of you lacked. You assumed it came from Jackson, he’d been here a lot longer than either of you. And he’d also found Maria. 

He also didn’t know how to butt out. A skill Joel, thankfully, understood. “Just curious about you two. You know, Joel’s seemed a lot happier in Jackson now that you’ve been around longer than a week.”

“Well, I think he’s getting a little sick of me.”

Tommy frowned, “Why’s that?”

You shrugged, taking another bite before answering. “I don’t know, just something he said this morning.”

“What’d he say?”

“Damn, Tommy, I can’t remember. It was how he said it, I guess.” You huffed and glared at him, “Look we’re not your new version of the bachelor, alright. Butt out.”

Maria opened her mouth, probably to scold you for being a bitch. Tommy held up a hand and shook his head. “Alright, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

“That’s it?” You asked, watching as he finished his sandwich and wiped his hands on his jeans.

“Yep,” he leaned over to kiss Maria on the cheek and gave you a strong pat on the back. “That’s it. Message received, I’ll just butt out now.”

Both you and Maria watched him go, a suspicious look on both of your faces as he went. Tommy never gave up that easy, ever. “You know he’s up to something, right?”

You glanced over at Maria, sighing as you picked up your paintbrush again. “I know.”

The answer to what exactly he’d been planning came three days later. 

Despite yourself and your feelings of rejection, you’d stayed in Jackson. You’d been paranoid since the run in with Abby and her people. It was dangerous for Joel to stay in one place, word would spread and old enemies would know where to find him. 

That thought plagued you every time you glanced at the door out of Jackson. If something happened while you were gone and pouting over something petty, you’d never forgive yourself. 

But you did put some distance between you and Joel. Staying in the guest room instead of his, not bringing him breakfast like some wife from the fifties. You’d put up boundaries where there weren’t any before, determined not to be used as some sort of daily comfort. 

And if Joel had anything against these new unsaid rules, he didn’t react. Which kind of pissed you off more. Trust, if there was a therapist you would see one. You’re aware your train of thinking isn’t what most would consider healthy. 

But there isn’t, so you just force yourself to push it down everyday and keep going. Like you always have. It wasn’t until you got here that rejections or emotions meant anything to you. This place was making you too damn soft. 

Tommy dropped by one night and invited both you and Joel over to his for dinner and Joel had accepted before you could say no. 

There wasn’t much you could bring over, you couldn’t cook and didn’t feel like burning down the kitchen trying. So you stole some flowers from the garden of the mean old lady that lived next to you while Joel kept watch. 

Maria and Tommy’s house wasn’t too far from you and Joel, but god, walking next to him you’d think they lived a mile away. 

“You know, foods gonna be gone by the time we get there.”

Joel huffed out a short laugh. “We got time. Feel like you’re always tryna rush off lately.” You didn’t have an answer for him, not one that wouldn’t reveal why you didn’t want to be alone with him. So you just shrugged. 

You could feel him staring at you, eyes drilling holes in the back of your head, but you refused to say anything. “How’s the guest room?”

The question caught you off guard, you stumbled over your own feet for a second before turning around to face him. “Uh, fine. Bed’s smaller, I guess. But I don’t have a giant hogging the sheets,” you attempted to smile at him. But he didn’t seem to find anything funny about your response. 

His brows were furrowed, lips set in a pissy sort of line. You finally caught on to the undertones of anger in his voice. The special sort of gruffness that only comes out when he’s pissed off. 

“Why?”

He shrugged, “Just wondering.” And that was it. He brushed past where you’d stopped walking to face him. His shoulder clipping you as he did and was walking off to Tommy’s, leaving you behind. 

You scoffed at the attitude. Not entirely sure what you’d done to deserve it and followed after him. The both of you finished the walk in angered silence, neither one of you aware why the other was so angry. You just were. 

When Tommy opened the door the smile on his face quickly turned into a smirk. “There you two are. Trouble in paradise?”

You shoved the flowers into his chest and stormed past him. “For Maria.”

You heard Joel mutter the same thing you’d told Tommy a few days ago. “Butt out.”

Maria was in the kitchen, finishing off whatever meat she’d decided to cook for you all tonight. You’d gotten so used to the QZ’s strange square ration bars, sometimes you struggled  actually identifying real food. 

You helped her set the table, ignoring the stares of both men on your back and were about to sit down… When Tommy literally dove under you to force you to sit next to Joel. 

You glared at him while you circled the table, throwing yourself down into the chair and sighing at the self-satisfied look on his face. “Your brother’s insufferable.”

Joel grumbled but didn’t say anything. So you were getting the silent treatment now. Really? 

Fucking child. 

“Alright, dinner is served.” Maria placed the roast on the table and took a seat beside Tommy, smiling at you all. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care how tense it was on your and Joel’s side. 

“Thank you, Maria.”

You forced a smile, not one to let Joel be the only one with manners. “Yes, thank you, Maria.” She hummed, carving into the roast and taking a slice for herself and Tommy. You reached for the knife and fork but Joel beat you to it. 

He cut off a portion and dropped it down on your plate, the mash potatoes spreading slightly at the impact. You sighed, muttering a belligerent thank you and took a bite. 

Couldn’t help himself could he? Always the Texan gentleman. 

It was infuriating. 

For a few minutes there was only the sound of metal scraping porcelain. And you felt bad, honestly, Maria and Tommy invited you both over for a nice dinner and you were pouting like toddlers. 

You weren’t even sure why you were upset with each other!

Obviously, you were still stinging from Joel’s use of your “relationship.” But you had no clue what had crawled up his ass and died. “Can you pass the bread?”

You looked up from your plate, staring at the side of Joel’s head. He continued to shovel food in his face. “Joel?” Nothing, not even a twitch. 

You reached across from him, purposefully shoving your arm in front of him so he couldn’t eat the bite on his fork and grabbed the bread basket. “Ain’t got manners, now?” He growled at you, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Says you,” you hissed back. This was devolving into childish anger so quickly. And you didn’t know why! 

God, what was his problem?

“So,” Tommy started and you were startled out of your glaring match with Joel. “Y/N, you know Bob?”

You slowly turned away from Joel and nodded. “Yeah, the horse guy.”

“Yeah, he’s been asking about you.” Tommy took another bite of food and shrugged, “Told him you were free this Saturday.”

You ignored Joel’s fork clanking loudly against his plate and shook your head. “No I’m not. I’m patrolling with Joel.”

Tommy waved you off, “Nah, don’t worry about it. You need to get out more anyway. Socialize some.”

“Tommy,” Joel started. His voice was low, an unspoken warning lacing it. “You need to stop meddling.”

“What? You’ve got a problem with a little date, Joel?”

You glanced between the two, hidden in their stares was a secret language only the brothers were privy to. There was a tense silence before Joel was picking his fork back up and eating, refusing to make eye contact with anyone at the table. 

“Not interested, Tommy. Thanks though.” It would feel wrong going on some blind date like you weren’t currently pining over the man you lived with. Besides, you were past the period of life where you wanted to ‘date.’ About one apocalypse past it. 

“Too bad, you’re going.” You opened your mouth to argue but both Tommy and Maria were leveling you with glares that allowed no room for negotiation. Since when did Maria join him in these ridiculous schemes?

“We’re having our harvest festival this weekend,” Maria stated. “Bob will accompany you.”

The rest of dinner was spent with Tommy and Maria blabbering away while you and Joel fumed in your seats. You didn’t know his reason but you were pretty pissed off you were being forced into a date. 

One, you were planning on skipping the stupid fucking harvest thing. It was a waste of resources and you didn’t understand why they clung to old traditions so desperately. 

Two, you didn’t want to go on a date. The only man you wanted to be with was sitting next to you and currently taking his anger out on a piece of bread. 

You let your mind fade into the background. Your eyes tracked the movements of Joel’s hands while he ate, no longer hearing Tommy and Maria. Until you blinked and dinner was over and Joel was waiting for you by the door. 

You nearly jumped at how loudly Joel slammed the door closed. You toed your boots off, watching him throw his jacket on the kitchen chair and reach for the bottle of whiskey on the counter. He ignored you, heading up the stairs and into his office. 

You took in a deep breath, trying to shake off the funk from the last couple of days. Slowly you made your way up the stairs, knocking on the doorframe to his office. 

He was just sitting in his chair, staring at the guitar on his desk. There was a glass of amber liquor in his hand, but he wasn’t making any moves to drink more. “Wanna talk?”

“‘Bout what?” He placed the glass on the table and picked up the new strings for his guitar. 

“I don’t know,” you walked in and sat down on the stool next to him. “You’ve seemed off since we left for Tommy’s.” 

His finger drummed across the denim of his jeans. He stared through the window, the lights of Jackson casting a warm glow over his face. 

If you tilted your head just right it softened him. The scars faded, the only wrinkles you could see were smile lines and you could see a shadow of the man he once was. The father, brother, contractor, someone long lost to the cruelties of time and the world outside these walls. 

“A date,” he scoffed. “My brother never knows when to stop, does he?” You didn’t bother answering. You know he wasn’t talking to you, just thinking out loud. 

You propped your elbow on his desk, resting your head while you waited for him to collect his thoughts. He let out a long sigh, his eyes on the guitar while he addressed you. 

“You drive me insane, you know that?”

“I’m aware.”

He cracked, his lips lifting slightly at the corners. Barely a smile, but it was better than nothing. “I think I’ve got you figured out. Think I finally understand how this,” he gestures between the two of you, “works. Then you disappear, or bring me breakfast, or you suddenly leave and start sleeping in another bed and I’m lost all over again.”

You shifted in your seat, fiddling with your nails, trying to figure out what he meant. If either of you were confused, it was you. “What’re you talking ‘bout, Joel?”

He sighed and finally looked at you, “Talkin’ about us. I’m talking about how infuriating you are.”

Your brows furrowed, scoffing slightly at the tone of his voice. He was still angry, for no damn reason. You stood up, ready to leave, when his hand wrapped around your wrist. “Didn’t say I was done, sweetheart.”

You gasped when he tugged you down. You landed in his lap, his legs spreading to accommodate you. “Joel what’re you doing?”

“Something I’ve been putting off for too damn long.”

Fireworks don’t go off somewhere in the distance and the world doesn’t stop. But your heart races and your body tingles when you taste the whiskey on his lips. You become hyper aware of each individual strand when his hand comes up to bury itself in your hair. 

And when your lips part to let him in you swear you’ve never felt like this before. Your body is working like you’re running from something, getting ready to fight something off, but it’s the first time in a while your mind is completely calm. 

You shift, your legs wrapping around his waist as a blanket of calm drapes itself over you. It rushes through you like a raging river, shutting everything unnecessary down. 

You don’t worry if you’re too out of practice, not having kissed anyone in a long while. You don’t think about if you're too stiff on his lap. You run your hands over his chest, squeezing the muscles of his arms and then letting them delve into his hair. 

At a certain point, you’ll have to breathe. You’ll have to talk about what this means for the two of you. But for right now you’re content, at ease, happy to just live the rest of your days in this moment. 

Kissing Joel Miller like there’s nothing outside these walls, no other purpose but to be with him.

part two

end. — I do not own the characters or the game The Last Of Us, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

TAGLIST: @chrysanthemum-00 @marimarvelfan

[w1ldthoughts]

Dangerous Delusions

Synopsis: Jack finds out about the notes.

A/n: Almost the end of the series!! Thank you all for reading🩷

Series Masterlist

“Is this all the notes you’ve gotten? And nothing else has happened?” Mike asks her over the phone. She’d contacted him a week before after receiving her third threatening message, all with a bouquet of flowers with the same eerie message.

“Nope, nothing else. They’ve only contacted me at work and I haven’t looked at my Instagram messages since the first time I was threatened.”

He looks over the sheets of paper, running a hand over his face. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell Jack about this?”

Zoey quickly told him no. “I really don’t want him to worry about this if I can take care of it before it becomes a big deal. Hopefully you guys can figure out who is doing this and I can just move on. There’s no point in Jack feeling guilty and carrying more of the weight of the world on his shoulders than usual.”

He understood what she was getting at but still didn’t like keeping this from him. Nevertheless he knew he didn’t want to break Zoey’s trust, especially when her safety was could be at stake. Mike let her know that he’d allocate all necessary resources to figure out who was behind this and get back to her as soon as possible which made her breathe a bit easier.

A few days later, she was all packed and ready to head to Kentucky to spend the week with Jack. There were no new notes, no threatening messages and no flowers so she chalked it up to the person getting bored and moving on with their life. What she didn’t expect was Jack walking into her office just as she was about to leave for the day and head to the airport.

She took in the smell of his cologne as she buried her face is his chest and gave his body a squeeze. A laugh vibrated from his chest as he kissed the top of her head. “Damn, I missed you too. Glad I came to surprise you cause you might have tackled me or something when you got to Louisville, you good?” The smile was wiped off his face a little scanning her features.

Zoey nodded, feeling a little choked up. She hadn’t allowed herself to feel relief since the whole ordeal began and just being in his presence instantly made her feel safe, a feeling that had been really foreign lately. “I’m just really happy to see you.”

“I couldn’t wait, so I think you might need to cancel that flight cause I brought the crew. We can leave whenever you want.” He smirks at her, holding her face in his hands and tenderly kissing her on the lips, getting lost in the moment a bit.

They almost forgot they were still in the office. “I’m ready to go, we just need to grab my stuff out of my car, it’s all in the trunk.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

Opting to take the elevator, the couple make their way down to the parking garage to get into Zoey’s car. The broken glass on the floor is the first thing she sees. Her boyfriend’s grip tightens instantly, stepping in front of her to get a closer look without letting her go so she can feel the way his hand is shaking. “I’m calling Mike.”

She felt numb, like life was happening in front of her but she wasn’t actively participating in it. Jack and Mike were talking at one point, more security came and checked the scene so they could grab her bags while she and Jack were escorted to the car. Zoey remembers sitting in the SUV with Jack and Urban, Jack practically glued to her side. He probably asked her 100 times if she was okay but she doesn’t remember responding. And then the next thing she knew, they were in Jack’s house.

“Okay so what do we do?” Jack asks, walking around in a circle for what seemed like the millionth time. “She obviously can’t go back there, it’s not safe. I mean shit—how do we even move forward?”

Mike puts his phone on the counter and calmly tells him that they’re handling it and that everyone probably needs to get some rest.

Jack furrows his eyebrows at him. “I know your job is to be cool and collected but respectfully, rest is the last thing I need right now. We need to find out who the fuck threw a big ass rock and busted my girlfriend’s window. And that fucking note? Why isn’t anybody moving with some damn urgency? Why isn’t anybody surprised?”

Zoey and Mike exchange looks and Urban swears he’s never seen his best friend more angry. “You know what Mike? You’re right, I’m not about to tell you how to do your job. Let me know if y’all find anything and Urb? I’ll see you later.”

The two men gladly take that as their cue and are out the door less than five minutes later. Jack gets on his phone to set the house alarm and places it back down on the table with a sigh. “Zoey, I’m going to ask you this one time. Is this the first time something like this has happened?”

It’s scary how even his voice is. He’s usually a yeller, talks with his hands and is very expressive so to see him standing there like a statue was deeply concerning.

“No,” she gulped.

“How many times have you been threatened and when did it start?”

She felt like a teenager who had been caught sneaking out by her parents. It was awful. “Six times. First one was two weeks ago.”

“T—two fucking weeks ago,” he lets out a humorless laugh. “And you didn’t think to mention that to me? You didn’t think this was something I should know about? You have GOT to be fucking kidding me.”

“Jack I know you’re mad and I get it. I should’ve said something but I told Mike and he was looking into it already. Thought it could be over and handled before it actually became an issue.”

He closes his eyes, desperately trying to collect himself. “Zoey I am your partner. And I might joke and play around but one thing I do not play about is your safety, do you hear me? You have no fucking idea how terrifying today was and to know that you’ve been feeling like this for weeks? I can’t—I don’t even wanna think about what I would do if something happened to you.”

The tears beginning to swim in his eyes are devastating and she can’t help but reach out to comfort him. “No, you don’t get to make it better right now. You should’ve told me because now I’m running over all the crazy shit that could’ve been said to you in my head and it’s all of my worst nightmares coming true,” he pauses, watching a fat tear roll down her face. “I trust you with everything because you are my person. And the most important thing, something we both know I should’ve been aware of? You shut me out.”

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I fucked up and I know that,” she chokes out, “you’re my person too, I just—thought I could figure this out on my own and not freak you out.”

“Well congratulations, I’m way past freaked out. And since you like doing things by yourself you can sleep on your own tonight. I really do not want to see you right now.” He snatches his phone and walks right past her without another word. Zoey stands there alone, in the living room, hearing one of the guest room doors slam shut.

“He might actually hate me.”

Urban laughs, taking a bite of his chocolate chip pancakes. “Bro, hate is crazy. That man wouldn’t be able to hate you even if you destroyed the entirety of his Pokémon collection. He’s just scared out of his mind and needs some time to problem solve, he’ll be right back to saying how high when you say jump in no time.”

“I’m serious Urban, I’ve made him mad before but it’s never been like this. He’s never been so upset that he couldn’t stand the thought of sharing a room let alone a bed with me. And you should’ve seen his face, he was so…heartbroken.”

He shakes his head a little, “he did call me crying a little last night. That car shit really fucked him up and—oh, good morning sunshine,” trying to joke with Jack to get him out of his moods was the usual go-to tactic.

“Don’t you have something to do this morning Urb?” The bags under his eyes are obvious so his friend doesn’t push it any further, simply nodding and putting his plate in the dishwasher.

“I um, I made pancakes if you’re hungry?” Zoey asks, trying to get him to look at her. Her attempt was unsuccessful.

Jack grabs a water bottle from the fridge. “I’m not.”

He knows he’s not handling it well but being rational and thinking logically isn’t exactly on his mind at the moment. Maybe that’s why his head feels like it’s going to explode. But he hasn’t slept, so the list of things that are pressing against the front of his brain just keeps growing. And he can’t stop picturing it, the broken window, the shattered glass. The pit in his stomach just grows and grows and he’s never felt fear like this before. Genuine horror, seeping deep in his bones and he doesn’t want to make this about himself, so he’d rather just not speak to her.

What if she waited so long that something actually happened? What then? Would he just get a call on morning from a miami hospital or better yet, find out through TMZ that she’d been injured or worse? They prided themselves on open and honest communication. Maybe that’s why it hurts so much, that he would trust her with anything and she felt like she needed to hide to spare him of the pain, ultimately making the situation much worse. It was a shock to the system. And what do you do when the person you go to for comfort is the one that hurt you the most?

[somberjoon]

METANOIA [4]

✩ pairing: wolf hybrid nj x cheetah hybrid reader (f) - eventual ot7 x reader

✩ genre: soul-searching , romance🔞 , found-family , healing , angst , happy ending

✩ word count: 6.3k

✩ chapter warnings: uncertainty in behavior and emotions , anxiety and crying , discussions of inadequacy and feelings

✩ summary: She doesn't know. There is so much about her and her cheetah that she hasn't had the privilege to understand. Unknown backgrounds and unknown emotions clash with feelings of want- hopes of being herself unapologetically. Namjoon seems to be someone that can help her- but can the rest of his pack truly be what she has wanted and needed?

✩ cover: me

ch.1 , ch.2 , ch.3 , ch.4 , ch.5

“Joonie! I’m so happy to finally catch you while I’m in the office. How are you?” 

Mila was always a rock in Namjoon’s life- one he didn’t know he’d need or find. When Mila found him, he was just another hybrid that needed help when the system was against him in multiple ways. Because he was too old to be “supported” by the shelter he was in, his choices were either to be kicked out with no resources or to end up with a mysterious fate because of the shelter’s shady practices. Now he knows what they do- trafficking, the selling of specific hybrids to different illegal industries, illegal euthanization- but back then, he was going to choose that route blindly, just so he wasn’t living on the streets. 

Mila found him when she was making her rounds at the shelters, using the organization’s funds to pay the little fees the ‘of-age’ hybrids were under. She helped him personally, as her position wasn’t what it is now- placing him in a temporary home, visiting him personally for readjustment with humans, and helping him find a job that was hybrid friendly. She’s someone that’s dear to him, as he is to her. 

“I’m doing great, how are you?”

“Eh, the new position is a lot more work, but I have more say in where our money goes so- I can’t be too mad.” She eyes the disengaged cheetah that seems to be lurking right outside her office. “Is this-? Taehyung?”

Mila never really had the time to meet Namjoon’s pack, and the rest of his pack never had the time or ability to come into the organization while she was in office- Taehyung and Mila have never met each other but know of each other. Namjoon wishes it didn’t have to be a random check-in that got her to meet his family but this is what it has come to.

“This is. Taehyung.” He turns and waves the nervous cheetah in, giving his waist a squeeze to keep him close and less anxious. 

Mila’s smile is enough to have Namjoon relaxing at the first meeting, but Taehyung isn’t one for first impressions- he values time and familiarity. 

“It’s very nice to meet you, I’m Mila.” She stretches out her arm to invite the cheetah in for a handshake. Taehyung doesn’t shy away from formal greetings so he gives in immediately. 

“Nice to meet you too.” Mila brightens at the response, letting his hand go to clasp both of hers together in front of her. 

“I’m gonna be honest, I think I know why you’re here but, I’d love to hear what you have to say.” Mila looks up at the two from her office chair. 

“It’s about the new case-”

“You can use her name here.”

“Y/N- I’m the only known hybrid that’s been in contact with her, and she definitely hasn’t met another like her. Taehyung also hasn’t met someone like him because of their rarity. I thought this would be a great opportunity for the two, but I didn’t share any information or specifics as I knew he’d need to be with the organization to help personally. I talked to them both and they both are up to having a time to meet up- is there a way we can make that possible?”

“Honestly, I think it would be great to see Y/N making these connections and having these relationships naturally. Through you and through Taehyung when he meets her- I think she would benefit greatly from creating these connections herself by her choice- without the help from the organization. I don’t mind them meeting, I don’t need him to be an official volunteer. If she consented to the meeting, then information can be shared between you and Taehyung- of course the most basic information out of decency, but you get it.” 

“Ah I guess I didn’t think about it that way. Nothing like this has come up before.” Namjoon looks over at Taehyung to gauge his reaction, reading a calmed expression that Namjoon knows is relief.

“No worries, it truly depends on the circumstance. But, I trust you and I trust your judgment. And I really like the idea.” Mila’s praise makes him blush a little, tail happily wagging at her confession.

“Thank you, I’ll make sure to make notes.”

“Let her know that the meeting can be out of volunteer hours if you both would like that as well. Notes aren’t a necessity all the time, especially if you guys are creating relationships outside of just a ‘volunteer’ stand-point.”

“Oh- uh, I’ll definitely talk to her about it.”

“Perfect. Is that all you need from me then?” 

“Professionally? Yes. Personally, I’d love for you to meet my pack members sometime, even if it’s just me and one other or a couple at a time whenever we can make it work. I’ve been wanting to but these last couple years-” 

“I understand, Namjoon, don’t worry. I understand pack dynamics and the adjustment period for the new members. Don’t worry at all. If anything I’d love to give you a paid position here- and then maybe we’d be able to figure something out sooner.”

Mila has been trying to push a paid position into Namjoon’s lap for almost a year now, but working offsite for a hybrid shelter feels more important at the moment. The shelter is still not up to par in his opinion, and the hybrids under his care know him personally. He couldn’t leave them with someone random, that’s the worst thing someone could do to them- connect, then leave them with little to no notice. Once you connect with them, you’re a strong tie to them emotionally. Though he doesn’t see them all the time, he does random check-ins weekly and everything is going okay. 

This is only the third shelter he has done monitoring at thanks to the organization helping him find a job in the ‘hybrid facility monitoring’ department of a local law firm. He is satisfied with his job, and he loves to do volunteering in his down time. He doesn’t want to change anything at the moment. 

“I’m really sorry, I enjoy how I have everything at the moment. But, I won’t just leave the organization randomly, maybe later on when I need to get out of the house more often I’ll get back to you.” He gets a sweet laugh out of Mila before turning to Taehyung to see he’s antsy being out in an unfamiliar environment for so long when it’s not needed. 

“I’ll try to catch you another day to make some plans, but I gotta get home to log in- I’ll see ya’.” He gives Taehyung’s waist a quick squeeze for reassurance. 

“Of course, of course. I’ll see you later- and goodluck with everything.” She gives him a familiar smile that he knows is something a little more than a kind farewell. He returns it with a nod before turning to leave. 

-

Y/N

Her restless body wakes her far too early. She stares at her dark ceiling, too many thoughts rolling around in her head. 

Having relationships is odd to her, in a way that feels emotionally taxing. She’s to be mindful of how she presents herself, how she talks, how she reacts to their personality. It’s all so much to think about. With Maria she’s used to it, with Richard it’s getting easier, with Namjoon it feels like no work, but someone from Namjoon’s pack that she’s never met before? It’s scary thinking about how wrong it could go. 

Namjoon doesn’t even know enough about her to trust her with a pack member. She can’t help but think he’s being a little rash. She hasn’t told him anything. Nothing about how she survived on the streets, about who and why she distrusts so commonly, nothing about how she cowers under the attention of a man. She can’t do this- not without being a little honest with Namjoon. 

-

With her anxieties, Y/N ends up outside sitting in the divot of her favorite tree at the time that Namjoon shows up. 

“Ahhh, that’s where the spot is. Very nice.” 

She startles at the sudden disruption to her thoughts. Looking down at the comforting Namjoon that always quiets her mind, she mirrors the smile he’s giving her. Wasting no time, she scoots effortlessly to the edge of the divot and jumps down landing on her feet. She pats at her butt and the back of her legs to rid the fabric of any dirt or bark. 

“Here, you got leaves in your hair as well.” Namjoon doesn’t hesitate to help her pick a few of the green friends from her hair- always careful of her ears. Her attention is set on him and the attention he gives to her hair- until she spots the bag he’s holding. He clutches the plastic bag that clearly has two small containers of pre-cut watermelon in it. 

“Watermelon?” Is all she asks, hoping that he brought it for her again despite not being used to so much being bought for her. She’s okay with being spoiled a little if it’s out of her say- she’s never asked him to bring her the juicy fruit. She steps closer to give him a look she doesn’t clock as anything specific. 

(To Namjoon it is absolutely begging).

(Namjoon is a sucker.)

“No hug this time?” He asks her, pulling his arm with the plastic bag back around his back out of her reach. He stretches his other arm out for the hug, fake-hurt eyes looking down at her. 

She wants to relish in the feeling of his warmth- a constant heater- but she really would rather have the fruit as quickly as possible. She gives him a quick squeeze not even long enough for Namjoon to put his arm around her. All she can do is smile up at him and wait. 

Luckily he gives in, handing her the bag. 

“So, what should we do today?” Namjoon asks. 

She mentally smacks herself for forgetting everything so easily. 

“Actually- can we, maybe, go out today? Just to talk?” 

“Definitely. Do you have somewhere specifically you want to go?”

She thinks of all the places she’d be most comfortable at when having this conversation. Surprisingly- all that matters is that Namjoon is at that place with her. That’s where she’ll be most comfortable. 

“No, anywhere is fine.” 

-

It’s the same park where she was able to run freely in- the grass tall and breeze light, just as it was that day. He was the first person to ever open her up to the point he did that day as well. He was gentle, sweet. She has no idea how to act around Namjoon, but she wants to think they’re friends. Maybe this isn’t just a volunteer-case relationship. Or maybe this is just how hybrids treat each other and she never knew. With care and mindfulness that shows they’re all the same in some way. 

But, no matter how hard she tries- she can’t not think about him. About the way he holds himself, how perfect he is toward her. She didn’t have an ideal type before this, never once did she think that she’d be able to pick a person from a bunch and have these strange feelings. But he’s Namjoon- and she doesn’t want to lose him. 

She doesn’t let herself think too hard about it, this conversation will give her all the answers she needs. 

With both their windows down, Y/N watches as the park they ran in is slowly passed. She looks back at the large field, thinking of that day and why he didn’t stop to relive it. 

“Where are we going?” She turns to him. Never does she watch him as he drives them each time. She can’t put her finger on it just yet- but the sight of him and his muscles that she never pays attention to as he shifts the gear, turns the wheel, and rests his arm on the window makes her mad. Or irritated? Or- something. She just avoids seeing them as much as possible. 

“There’s this pretty look-out spot just up this hill, we’ll be able to see the park from there and the city in the horizon. I think you’ll like it.” 

The drive isn’t much longer but it’s definitely much more scary than usual. The steep sides of the hill that the road winds up to create is causing her to slink back into her seat so she doesn’t have to look at the drop. Namjoon maneuvers the twists well, but she can’t help but heave out a sigh when they finally reach the spot at the top that he parks into and cuts the ignition.

She forgets about the watermelon in her lap, immediately opening the bag to distract herself with something refreshing. Namjoon’s hand rests on her shoulder with a touch that’s barely even felt. 

“Are you okay? I’m sorry I should’ve warned you the drive was a bit much for the first time.” Her anxious nerves loosen up with the comforting touch, popping a piece into her mouth for further distraction. 

“It’s fine.” She looks out in the distance she wasn’t able to fully take in. The mid-day bustle of the city is quiet from here- silent and calling for appreciation. She didn’t realize how big it all was. “It’s pretty.” 

This is the first city she’s been in, two nearby towns and the surrounding areas were always small and harder to be unnoticeable in. She was in this city the longest after she realized she truly couldn’t take the stares and pitied looks any longer. In the city it’s a lot more common to be on the sidewalks, in alleys, under dried, old bridges. This was a place she could get used to living as she did- at the bottom of the food chain. Alone. It was the easiest way. 

“It is. Perfect for the good news I have.” Namjoon gives her a cheeky smile that lightens her mood unknowingly. “You can meet Taehyung whenever you’d like.”

“Taehyung?” She turns to him to show her attention. 

“Sorry I never let you know his name. I wasn’t sure how everything would go at the organization- and I didn’t know how to cross that line between us. Personal details and such.” Namjoon gives a little wave of his hands, nervous-looking for the first time. 

“But anyways, Taehyung would love to meet you this week, or even this weekend. He doesn’t need to be a volunteer to- I talked to him about it after we left the organization. He’d like to get to know you without any labels anyways. He wants something natural.” 

Her cheeks pink at the knowledge of Taehyung’s eager sounding wants when it comes to her. She didn’t think anyone would ever want to meet her. Let alone meeting her out of choice and wanting something more out of it all. This is a special case. Maybe he won’t like the way she acts, or the amount of emotional baggage she carries- maybe she’s not what he imagined- 

“Namjoon.” His name forces its way out before she can think more on it. 

 “Yeah?”

“Are you sure that I should meet him?” Namjoon’s attention snaps to her gaze. 

“Of course I’m sure. Are you- do you not want to anymore? It’s okay if you-”

“No. No, I want to. I just-” Her throat closes at the sight of his attention. His scanning eyes are trying to read her. A raw feeling of something bitter and gross fills her mouth. Her past, the things she’s done, the desires she has- she pushed them all down when they found her under that bridge. She promised herself she’d never look back. She’d never tell anyone. She’d never have to be that person again. She has the chance to be someone new. And still these awful things want to be seen. 

“Y/N?” Namjoon’s warm hand is placed on her’s that she set on the middle console. Instead of the usual warmth he gives her, the wretched memories make her yank herself from underneath him- sticking both her hands underneath her seated bottom. She pushes down the tears threatening to silently release. 

“You don’t know anything about me.” She whispers, worried about what she’ll say otherwise. She’s already turned to look out at the horizon so she doesn’t have to see his reaction to anything. 

“What do you mean?” 

She swallows thickly at the sound of him. God, this is worse than she’d thought it’d be. 

“You know nothing about me, Namjoon. Why would you trust me with him? Why would he want to meet me? Why-” She has to stop as a crack in her voice threatens to cause her wet eyes to spill over. “Why are you so nice to me when you know nothing?” It’s not how she wanted it to go. It’s not as simple as she wanted it to be. An impending feeling already takes hold. She’s doing this too soon. 

“Y/N.” Namjoon grabs her attention once again. Her attention is on him but she still doesn’t take her eyes away from the city. 

"Y/N." The assured voice draws her in more than she'd like to admit. Her eyes find his again. There's nothing malicious- only concern and interest.

"Can I ask why you are asking these questions? Just so I can understand better."

She tries to find disingenuous hints in his expression. The tightness of his features proves she can do this with him- he's being genuine. 

"No one knows anything about me except me. No one has ever shown me respect or care like Maria does, like- like you do. What- Why? Why would you? Why do all of this with nothing in return? Why waste your money and time with someone you have no reason to be around?" 

She somehow keeps her composure despite her voice being all over the place. 

“I’m trying to forget everything and just let it go but- but it’s obviously not working. And I’m confused as to why suddenly everyone is nice to me. After everything I’ve been through, now it’s like- it’s like nothing happened and everyone, including me, is ignoring it. I’m irritated, and I’m irritated that it’s my fault.” 

The tears fall helplessly now, silently and without any grand show of arrival. She can barely see his face through the blurry wetness- she wouldn’t want to see his reaction anyways. She’s embarrassed more than anything. 

“Y/N, I’m not here for no reason. I’m here for you.”

Her scoff is an audible, gross thing she can’t stop from coming out. 

“You want me to believe that?”

“Yes. Because I told you. Because you said I respect and care about you. Because I have a choice to be here, to spend my time and my money on you- and I choose to be here. With you.” His voice is even and gentle unlike hers- making her feel more wrong, more out of place and rancid next to someone like him. 

“Don’t do that.” Namjoon almost pleads. 

“Do what?” 

“I can tell when you’re thinking too much. Your eyes don’t meet mine and they go out of focus, your ears turn down like mine do when I’m overthinking, and your tail tightens around your waist. I can tell.”

She insecurely wraps her arms around her waist to cover her tail, feeling vulnerable. 

“We’re responsive and emotional- hybrids- we need emotional connection and likeness in something and someone. I’m here to be there for you when you need that.”

“I don’t want to be a case that someone has to tend to. I want a friend- I want-”

“What makes you think we’re not friends?” Namjoon cuts in when she can’t think of that specific thing she craves. 

“We know nothing about each other.” She mumbles, wiping the wetness from her face. 

“And we won’t know everything about each other for a long time. That doesn’t mean we’re not friends- that means we’re learning. It’s only been a couple weeks, Y/N, we aren’t just going to immediately tell each other everything. I know you wouldn’t want to- and I don’t want to just yet.” 

“Because you can’t trust me.”

“Because I want us to have something real. Something long-lasting and considerate. I don’t want us to trauma-dump and rely too greatly on each other. Of course no relationship is perfect, but that’s why we’ll learn. That’s why I’m glad we’re having this conversation.”

She composes herself enough with his response, relaxing just the slightest into the passenger seat. 

“Do you trust me?” He suddenly asks after not getting a response from a thinking Y/N. 

“Yes,” she confesses with a whisper, “that’s why I’m scared. Because I know nothing about anything and I still trust you.”

“I trust you too.”

“No you don’t.” 

“What’s the difference? Between your truth and my supposed lie?” 

“You’re perfect. You’ve got a family to think about and feelings you haven’t shared with me. You’re a hybrid- I barely am one, how would you trust someone like me?”

She watches as Namjoon’s eyes point out the changes in her comfort based on the slightest of movements. She just about scoffs again at the realization that she has no idea about any tells in hybrids. She knows nothing. 

“Our difference in backgrounds doesn’t change the feelings we have, or the responses we have to each other. Your choice to keep your past a secret is the same I have made. I haven’t always had a family and I haven’t always been the Namjoon you know. It doesn’t matter anyways, our past- not when we’re just trying to find people to comfort us and care for us.” Namjoon swivels his head to make sure Y/N is looking into her eyes when he finishes his response. 

“To trust blindly is the most vulnerable thing we could do- and that in itself is a lot more important- more meaningful than the pasts we are trying to hide.”

Y/N is speechless to say the least. Teary eyes watch Namjoon as his downturned eyes plead with her to understand. She doesn’t ever want to see him looking at her like this again- the ache in her chest and limbs clenches harder and harder with every passing second. 

“So- ask me again.”

“What?” 

“Ask me again why I trust you to meet Taehyung.”

At first she’s hesitant, closing her eyes to take a few deep breaths she desperately needs. Her lungs hurt but she breathes until they aren’t as tight. 

“Why would you trust me with him?” 

“Because I do. That should be enough, but since it’s not- I trust you because you’re a hybrid- because I know you both need this- because I met you and you’ve been nothing but gentle in our time together- because you are worried about who I bring around Taehyung, and that means more than you can imagine- because you’re you, Y/N. Because everything leading up to now has been nothing but pleasant and trusting.”

“Is that enough for you?” He asks with finality that she can feel in her bones. Because it is enough. It’s more than enough. It’s more than she could ever ask for and even-even more. Because she’d trust his judgment of hearself even if it wasn’t true. She’d shape herself into whatever he wanted.

“Yes. It is.” She swallows down a swirl of strange feelings, trying to grasp onto something to say, something to prove herself with. “You believe that I trust you?”

“I want you to trust me, with every piece of truth I can muster, I’d hope you feel that you can lean on me, trust that I’ll be there for you.”

This is turning into something she was nowhere near expecting. He’s putting far more into it than she thought he would. He’s crushing her down into a palm-sized thing for him to have and keep for whatever he’d need or want. 

“I’m scared to meet him.” She confesses. “I’m scared that I’ll be nothing he expected, nothing he’d care to meet again. I’m scared that it will mean everything to me but he’ll realize I’m broken and incomplete and he’ll never want anything to do with me.” She takes another deep breath, ready to seal her fate. “I’m scared that his distaste for me would lead to me never seeing you again.” 

The silence feels so suffocating, Namjoon just sits, waiting for something she can’t figure out. Until he’s opening his door and walking around to her’s, opening it and waving her out with no words. Blindly, she follows. Keeping her arms around herself to self-soothe. 

“Yell it. Yell out how you feel.” He stretches his arms out towards the horizon. 

“Why?” She asks, still stuffy-nosed and wet-eyed. 

“No matter our age, no matter the emotion that’s overwhelming us, we need to expel the pent up adrenaline that’s eating us alive. Yell it while no one but me can hear. Yell it to get it out of your bones and muscles- let it be between us.”

She looks at him skeptically but turns to the city, taking in the colors, the breeze, the obvious life that thrives there.  

“I’m scared.” 

“Louder.”

“I’m scared.”

“Louder, put your whole body into it.”

Y/N uncrosses her arms, unwraps her tail, and tries again. Leaning forward, she tries to forget how stupid she looks. 

“I’m scared!” She screams with a crack.

“Of what?” 

“I’m scared! Of everything!”

The relief is almost instant. A weight releases from her that she didn’t realize was a constant companion. With the relief comes an audible choke that she can’t stop. The loud sob causes her to bend over and catch herself on her knees. Sobs and choked breaths rip from her- all those times she forced herself to be silent in her pain, this is how it repays her. This is how her body finds revenge. 

But this time she’s not alone. 

Namjoon

The urge to soothe, to comfort is too strong for him to just watch as she breaks down in front of him. This was his idea- even if he knew she needed it, the expulsion of her emotions is more than he can handle to just watch. 

He gently pulls her up by the shoulder, letting her decide if she wants the same thing when he turns her toward him. Thankfully, there’s no hesitation in her leaning into him, pressing her wet face into the front of his shoulder, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and torso. He doesn’t have to think about holding onto her, rubbing her back in motions he hopes are soothing for her. 

He lets the breeze-filled silence fill their space, waiting until her sobs turn into minimal hiccups and shaky breaths. 

“It’s okay to be scared,” he starts with a sure but calm tone, “but you don’t need to be scared about this one thing at least. Taehyung and I were the first of our pack. I know my pack very well, but Taehyung and I have had a lot of time to get to know each other.” He can’t help but let a light laugh out at the remembrance of their past. “I know that this meeting means the world to him- it means more than anything I think. He’s very in touch with his cheetah, and he has no one to share that with. None of us are like him. You could hate him and vow silence towards him and he’d still try over and over again to change your mind. He’s minimalistic and puts his thoughtfulness into actions instead of words. He’s emotional but extremely shy- he’ll want to be around you just to have you near, just to make sure you're real and safe.” 

Namjoon tries to think of anything else to reassure her, anything he knows is true and would help to calm her nerves. 

“I’m not in touch with my cheetah.” Her voice is more of a hum into his shoulder than anything, making goosebumps prickle underneath his long-sleeve shirt. 

“He won’t mind it one bit. Honestly-” He pulls back a little, causing her to pull her face from his body and look up at him. Her puffy eyes and red features make his heart clench, his ears immediately drooping at the sight. “I think he could help you with that more than either of us realize.”

-

“Are you sure about this?” Taehyung asks for the third time since they were getting ready to leave the house. This time, Namjoon is pulling into the Caddel household’s driveway as Taehyung looks around the front of the house nervously. 

“Yes. I was sure this morning, and I’m sure now.” 

Taehyung gives him an eye roll that could kill and waits for Namjoon to start the adventure up the front door before he takes action right behind him. 

Namjoon was careful to instruct Taehyung on possible triggers for Y/N before they set out for the day. He’s extremely understanding, especially when he can relate to what can cause discomfort. He also made the effort to wear freshly cleaned clothes to limit scents and present his own scent upfront. 

Namjoon’s at the door before Taehyung can ask anymore questions, knowing that if he could sit and anxiously wait for hours he would. With two knocks he expects Y/N to answer the door, but this time it’s Maria. 

“Hi sweetie,” she gives a smile to Namjoon, herding the boys into the house to take off their shoes and put on guest slides. “You must be Taehyung, very nice to meet you.” She smiles at him but doesn’t make him give a proper greeting to keep it casual. 

“Nice to meet you too.” Taehyung responds back as he waits for Namjoon to kick his shoes off. “Thank you for allowing me to visit Y/N.”

“Oh, of course! I’m very glad she has you guys, I want to do more for her but this is really the best way I can do that. So, thank you as well. Speaking of Y/N, she’s in her tree again- got too nervous and has been up there for about an hour now.” Maria explains. 

“You’re doing a lot for her, Maria, I know she really appreciates you. And thank you for letting us know.” Namjoon makes sure to let her know.

“Thank you for letting me know, I’ll try my best not to disappoint. You guys can go right out, I’ll have lunch ready in an hour.” She gives them confident smiles before letting them go. 

Namjoon leads the way, head circling with the possible outcomes. What if he doesn’t know how Taehyung would react? What if he was wrong and Y/N hates him forever because of it. What if he breaks her trust with the hope he wasn’t even trying to hide. He pushes that down, putting the trust he has in Taehyung to the forefront of his worries. He knows him. He knows how much this means to him. 

Y/N perches in her usual spot, looking up instead of out over the fence. Taehyung waits a few steps behind to allow her to come down to him out of choice. Another detail Namjoon thought would be good to include. 

“There she is.” Namjoon smiles up at her as she startles again. Her fast growing hair is in a high ponytail today, a common style now that she has the means to take care of it properly. The strands are pulled back carefully to accommodate her ears. The fuzzy, little things search for an out of sight Taehyung once she realizes he’s here. He gives her a minute to figure out what she wants to do. With a nervous look at Namjoon, he gives her an assured nod. 

It seems to be all she needs as she moves and hops down with practiced ease. With a look at Taehyung he sees the same nervous expression, giving him a knowing look to show it’s going to be okay as well. 

She peaks around the trunk just as she did when meeting Namjoon, but this time she wastes no time showing herself. She side steps to get to Namjoon’s side, accepting a reassuring hand on her back. 

“Taehyung, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Taehyung.” 

Y/N

She honestly didn’t know what to expect in terms of feelings upon meeting him. There is that anxiety she hates so much, and the impending feeling of doom that she seems to have so much lately- but, there’s something else there. 

He’s pretty, just like Namjoon- he looks nothing like Namjoon, but pretty just the same. His hair is lighter than both her’s and Namjoon’s, a wavy style that seems effortlessly perfect. His ears peak out the top of his light brown waves, camouflaging well into the strands. He’s in clothes that seem to match her’s. Plain, comfortable bottoms and a plain t-shirt under a plain zip-up. His tail catches her eye, swaying effortlessly, lifted and cared for with no thought behind it. She looks down at her own to see it still wrapped around her waist like always. 

She gives him a nervous glance before unraveling it from herself and letting it fall as it usually does. She isn’t used to keeping it up, her muscles ache after those unplanned times it seems to have a mind for itself and sway around with no direction. Even now, she lets it fall into the grass under her socked feet- but it takes tentative swishes around under the attention of Taehyung. 

As she avoids looking at his face to not have to see his reaction to her unsure instincts, she startles at a sound from him. A shocked sound of joy leaves the other cheetah, causing her to look at him and find a toothy grin that stuns her. She looks up at Namjoon who seems to have a very similar expression towards Taehyung. 

“Go ahead.” He gives her a light nudge on the back. 

It’s not disgust on Taehyung’s face. It’s an expression she can’t place, but at least it’s not disappointment. He’s smiling at her so earnestly, she doesn’t think twice about taking the tentative steps to stand in front of him. Despite his now content smile, she can see his details up close. The wetness in his eyes surprises her. 

“Taehyung?” She questions. 

“You’re real.” He says, sounding more like he’s convincing himself than stating it to her. “You-” He lifts his hand to roll a curl of her’s between his fingers, looking at her and watching her in awe. She tries her best not to shy away, letting him search for whatever he needs if it means he’s okay with her. 

“Hi.” She gives him in the silence, hoping she doesn’t sound awkward. Her smile is content under his attention despite not knowing him. With her greeting she takes in his scent, the warm, fresh scent seems to perfectly fit him. 

“Hi.” He responds back, his voice less stable than before. 

Her overthinking in how he feels blocks her instincts. An underlying feeling of want and yearn creeps their way into her muscles. Her own cheetah wants something she can’t quite figure out. Just like in times of pain, her cheetah is responding in a time of want. It’s a new warmth, a new feeling of being heard and understood. 

He’s being vulnerable for her, he’s emotional in front of a stranger when Namjoon said he was usually shy. He’s being sincere- she can try to find a way to do the same. 

Instead of blocking that scary feeling of unknown want, she tries to let it slip out, she tries to show him some part of her he can see as meaningful. To show them both that she’s trying. 

Taehyung

Despite Namjoon telling him that Y/N wasn’t familiar with her cheetah, he can feel it. He can feel a connection of familiarity that he’s yearned so long for. Her pretty ears and tail are just like his. Their patterns and colors so similar. And up close, she’s perfect. She’s nothing he could have imagined. She’s far better than anything he could’ve honestly dreamed up. 

She looks up at him with curiosity that melts him. He doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable but he needed to touch something, feel her in some way and make sure she was really in front of him. 

“Hi.” She says, her voice uncertain but light. Her uncertainty in it all makes his cheetah want to soothe, his heart hurting at whatever she could be going through. 

“Hi.” He responds, no knowing exactly what she needs in the moment. 

He lets Y/N watch him, search him for whatever she may need. Her ears and tail tell him she’s thinking, looking for what to do and how to act around him. He debates cutting in and trying to be vocal about his intentions, but it seems Y/N decides first. 

With Taehyung’s hand just out of reach of her face, Y/N leans towards him. Her cheek meets his fingers still holding her hair. He drops the strand, letting her move as she pleases. Her soft skin rubs against his fingers- he opens his hand to welcome her more. She takes the offer, fully resting her cheek in his palm, her eyes starting to water. 

Taehyung does his best to take it slow, rubbing his thumb into the top of her cheek with slow strokes. Once she’s okay with that motion, she turns her face into his palm, being able to smell him and now her scent mixed with his. 

“Taehyung.” She whispers, sounding like she’s in pain from whatever she’s thinking. 

“Y/N.”

[oonajaeadira]

LOSING MY RELIGION: CHAPTER 13: THE EXCHANGE

Rating: Mature for series, lighter for this chapter.

Pairing: Post Season 2 Din Djarin x force sensitive reader (fem, post-Order 66 Jedi). Soft, slow burn on both sides, internal struggles and feels. Alternating POV.

Warnings: A little bit of angst, culture shock/differences, Din pushing authority a bit, jealousy, and a whole lot of private feelings burning hot in a public place. A/N: If you’re still reading, thank you so much for your patience. I had to do a little soul searching and make the decision to let Din and Little Bird follow the path that the story calls for. It took me a while to let canon go, but this chapter hit me very unexpectedly. There are beats in this story that weren’t there when I first mapped it out and surprised the hell out of me when I realized where it was leading. The road ahead is a little twisty for Din and LB, but the story always goes where it needs to, when it needs to.

Senaar’ika = Little bird.

There’s more Mando’a spoken, but the translation is eventually given in the storytelling.

Summary: You and Din broker a very important exchange.

TAGLIST: you can always request to be on the taglist for this or any of my work. If you’d like to be on taglists for upcoming fic, please sign up at my MASTERLIST

←-Previous Chapter 12: The Camp

________________

PART 1: DIN DJARIN

Your helmet stands out among the others down below and Din tracks your path through the Tusken camp from his perch on an outcropping of a cliff face above. You’re not going to like this, but it’s the best solution he’s got.

“We’re on a mission here to acquire some resources and take someone into custody,” he explains to his comrade. “The negotiations aren’t something I can hurry along. How much time can you give us.”

Fennec sits with one knee popped up and stares into the distance out over the dunes, her eyes squinting more in calculation than from the bright suns on the sand. She’s a warrior he’s come to respect–a renegade turned team-player--even beyond her capabilities that could land her easily among the best of Mandalorian soldiers and make her a queen among bounty hunters, she’s evolved beyond her need for the Empire. Her ready repayment for a life saved, her loyalty to Boba Fett–and, by extension, himself–is noble in a way he can truly admire. “I can hail at first light tomorrow.”

“The whole day? That’s generous.”

With a half chuckle, the ex-assassin absently tosses away a stone she’s been rolling between her fingers, letting it clack over the clifftop. “What can I say? One of my many qualities.”

Even as his mind works, Din’s absent focus stays on you in the shadow of the rock face, sitting with the child he assumes is the force-sensitive. For some reason, he thought the child would be smaller, but he looks to be halfway to adulthood by his height. Definitely not gonna fit on the speeder with both of you. “The mechanic. Peli Motto. She’s unharmed?”

“Fine for now. They’re keeping her under lockdown but they’re not torturing her.”

“Good,” he huffs with a sardonic laugh. If Peli has guards set on her, then they’re the ones who are probably begging for release right about now. Tapping a few buttons on his vambrace and checking his nav for coordinates and distances, he calculates the time it will take to pack up, get to the drop off, and arrive at the Palace. Of course there will be a pit stop to refuel the speeder, get in a midday meal, exchange pleasantries, ask for favors….

“This would be a whole lot easier if she’d come out to us.”

“Wouldn’t it though. No dice, Mando. Boss hailed back–Bo won’t open herself up to attack. Insists on meeting at the Palace.” Her black eyes glitter behind the open slice of her helmet. “If you want to get in some target practice, we could stash your partner and the quarry somewhere in town and take down the garrison, grab the ship and go. Avoid her completely. Could be fun.”

“It’s only dragging this scenario out. She’s not going to let this go. She’ll just follow us somewhere else; somewhere I don’t have options.”

“I suppose the boss wouldn’t like me disobeying an order either. Ah well,” she sighs back onto her elbows, “buys your friend a little vacation, hm?”

Dank farrik. You’re not going to like this.

To be honest, he doesn’t either.

“You didn’t catch the name of her companion? And it’s not Koska?”

Laying back onto the sun-warmed rock and closing her eyes as her head lands in the cradle of her hands, Fennec hums in thought. “No, it sounds like Koska might be leading the garrison at the docking bay. The Mando that came with Bo Katan definitely isn’t her.”

“Hmm. First light then. I appreciate your help.”

Stretching out like a cat, content to take in the morning suns after a cold evening in the desert, Fennec has nowhere to go and nothing to do as long as Din isn’t following her back to the Palace. “Patience is a virtue. Bo Katan can use the lesson.”

________________

PART 2: YOU

“That’s good, Uli-ah. Now can you do both stones at once? Try to swap their positions.”

Taking refuge in the shadows by the cliff face and sitting in the sand across from the Tusken foundling, you watch as two pieces of desert shale lift from their positions by the boy’s knees, come together in the air and bump only a little awkwardly before passing at nose level. One of them drops and breaks while the other makes its way to its new spot.

It’s hard.

“Yes, it is, and you almost did it. That’s actually very very good. You must practice often.”

No. I’m not allowed. It frightens the mothers. I make things dance for the other kids sometimes if the mothers can’t see.

“You keep bringing up ‘the mothers.’ Is one of them yours?”

They all are.

“The children are raised by the clan.”

Drawing his knees up and under his chin, Uli-ah hugs himself in tight, burying his face, becoming a little desert-colored ball. It’s not that he goes silent as much as he shows you ideas, images, emotions, everything you need to understand that he is not assigned to one family like the other children are. Uli-ah does not answer to one set of parents or any one mother or father in particular. He is protected by everyone but advocated for by nobody. He learns as part of a group, but is never given wisdom as passed down from parent to child.

He is alone in a crowd.

It’s a wonder that the child hasn’t grown to be dispondend or wild, surprising that he’s quiet and respectful. But it isn’t that he’s neglected or uncared for. Din’s words from the night before begin to stir. The Tuskens aren’t like Mandalorians. He’ll never be paired and never asked to join the fire. He will never truly be one of them.

“How old are you, Uli-ah? How long have you lived among the clan?”

He doesn’t lift his head, his fingers only dig into the cloth of his leg coverings.

Five years I think. There have been five water cycles.

Only five? This tall, gangly, capable child? The answer slams into you and before you can control your surprise it rebounds on him, his hands balling up in fists as yet another adult finds him strange and unusual.

“Hey, hey, hey, friend,” reaching over to his shaking shoulder and laying a warm hand upon it, “it’s okay. That’s a good answer. You’ve learned so much in your young life, I’m only surprised you’re not a little older. You’re very smart and talented for your age.”

The touch, your tone, your praise causes him to bring his head slowly up, his helmet shielding his expression, but his sinking shoulders telling you all you need to know.

“I know some other younglings like you, with abilities like yours. They go to a school for people like us. I could take you to them if that’s what you’d like. But you’d have to leave your home behind. Everything will be new. It’s a long way from here.”

I don’t know what a school is.

“It’s a place where you learn. A training place where someone teaches you how to master your skills. Would you like that?”

Stillness. You can sense a little turmoil, all his thoughts tumbling around without a good tried-and-true way to organize them. This is why the Jedi used to take them as babies; it’s a lot to ask any child. Too young in their development and they’re bonded to their family. Old enough to make the decision and it may be too late to hone their abilities. Five though. Five is so young for such a big decision.

I...would like that. Except….

Uli-ah’s helmet spans slowly, taking in the camp, the sands, the wavering heat at the horizon…

Is it…hotter there? It’s so hot here. Sometimes I can’t breathe.

Is that what he’s worried about? “It’s warm there, but there’s water. Green things. Trees. I suppose you’ve never seen trees. They’re hard to explain–”

I remember trees.

Something about this violently shifts your heart. To be so young and still have fleeting memories of a different place, perhaps a home he once knew….and you find yourself putting your arms around the young force-sensitive, taking no offense to the fact that he does not have any experience of how to embrace you back. ________________

“Well? What did you find out, Captain?”

The midday Tusken meal is taken in the privacy of their tents and that means bringing two bowls of black melon gruel back to your campsite. Din’s made a makeshift lean-to out of your blankets and the speeder–a place to have a little shelter from the high suns and to remove your helmets for the meal–and you hand the bowls off under a flap so that you can crouch and crawl through to the snug space, taking a seat knee to knee with him in the cooler patch of shaded desert.

The surprise is that his helmet already rests in the sand by his hip. His jaw is set, his eye determined. He holds the bowls patiently, waiting as you remove your own bucket.

Something tells you you’re not going to like what he has to say.

“Bo Katan Kryze is here on Tatooine. She’s holed up in the local tradelord’s palace with some of her followers and she has others posted at our docking bay with the Crest in custody.”

“Peli–” you start, but he shakes his head, handing your bowl over.

“She’s okay. They’re just not letting her leave the terminal.”

Suddenly, you couldn’t be less hungry. “Why is Kryze here? For you?”

“Mmyeah,” he says, smacking his lips and squinting after a sip of the bitter broth. “Technically, she’s probably here for the Darksaber. Been tracking us for a while.”

“I thought you told her you weren’t going to fight her.”

“I’m not. But I have to go. She’s causing trouble until I get there. I’m not going to inconvenience my friends over this. I’ve got to go and deal with it.”

There a quick spike of bitterness in your gut from something other than the melon gruel. But you don’t need to feel anything from him to sense his irritation as a valley forms between his eyebrows and he downs more of the broth.

Joining him in your silent meal, watching him as he keeps his eyes on the bowl, you know him too well. There’s something he’s not telling you; it’s best to just keep sipping until he gains the courage. It takes longer than you expect and it’s not until he puts down the empty bowl that he meets your eyes. “You’re not coming with me.”

“What? You’re just going to leave me here? Din, the Darksaber–”

“No,” is what he says, but what he means is Quiet. Let me speak. “The kid you’re talking to. Tell me what’s happening there first.”

Damn. You can sense your Mandalorian is begging you with his whole being to cooperate, and the last thing you want is a fight. “You’re right. He’ll never be one of them. They’ve adopted him into their numbers but not into a family. He’s got an astounding amount of ability and talent for his age...and that’s another thing. He says he’s only five.”

“What?” Shock washes over him in a mirror of your own. “Huh. So. Not human then.”

“No. Being so tall, I thought maybe Kaminoan, but too many fingers. Maybe Weequay. Possibly Wookiee, but I can’t imagine living under all that covering and fur besides. Although he did say it was too hot here…” Stay on topic. “He’s open to going to Luke’s school.”

He sighs. His eyes close and squeeze. The news is expected, but not favored.

“That means we’re back on the clock,” he grumbles as he locks his gaze to yours again. “So it’s my job to make sure you’re both safe. I’m not leaving you here with the Tuskens and I’m not bringing the kid into a palace crawling with power hungry Mandalorians. We’re taking a detour to a mining settlement. I have a friend there. Maybe he can give you two a place to stay for a night or more.”

“Din, why–”

“Speeder won’t carry us all, so Fennec’s gonna help us out. We head out at first light. I’ve already spoken to the elders about that pearl–”

“Wait. You need me with you. That saber–”

“Senaar’ika.” Din doesn’t speak Mando’a often. His whisper stills your tongue. “I’ve spoken to the elders about the pearl. They have an imperfect one they’re prepared to trade if you’re willing to build a saber for them.” When you blink incredulously he explains, “I showed them the Darksaber and what it can do. They can use it for cutting. For defense. It makes glass from the sand and lights fires. It would be a valuable tool for them. I know…” he swallows, “I know it’s an insult to your order. To make a lightsaber for…base reasons…”

It’s risky, putting such a powerful weapon in the hands of those not trained to use it. They could badly harm someone. Or wield it to embolden an attack on innocents. But perhaps you could temper it, shorten the blade, make sure it can’t be used to cause too much harm….

“I’ll do it.” It’s a rough trade, but it will do. And you’re glad to see that he nods, relieved, quick to take up your offer. “Depending on the size of the pearl, a shard of it could power many lightsabers. And I’m happy to make something that’s useful to them.”

“Good. Then while you’re doing that, I’ll negotiate for the child.” He holds up a hand when you open your mouth to protest. “I know. But the women of this clan don’t have final say and you’re not allowed to talk with the men. Trust me. I know what they need to hear.”

If the burn in your cheeks didn’t signal frustration as he takes the lead away from you, then your frown most certainly does. But he’s right. He’s right about everything. Except…

“I don’t want you to leave me behind in the mining settlement. I know you can wield that saber, Din, but my being with you will boost your power with it. It feeds so highly on your emotions. Having someone you love nearby can only help…”

“I understand,” he says, softly. He’s already replacing his helmet, readying himself to go retrieve the pearl so you can get to work. “But you don’t have to be standing next to me to be the one thing I can’t stop thinking about, Little Bird.”

And he slips out of the makeshift shelter, leaving you with cold broth and a pounding heart. ________________

The pearl is about the size of Din’s fist, definitely from a young krayt, and it takes you a little time to figure out how to fracture it without wasting any. Your own lightsaber is up to the task to hew a sliver of it away and you’re able to ascertain that even this small portion holds enough force energy to power a short blade. It will be more unstable than your own kyber, but less mercurial than the Darksaber; a fine beginner’s blade if not a tad loud.

The new utility saber is a good tool, sturdy, powerful. You’re adjusting the final resonance when Din rounds the speeder bike. He’s been gone a good part of the day and the suns sit on his shoulders, winking off his armor, causing you to squint up at him even through your visor to ask, “Well? How’d it go?”

Settling into one hip, his hands come up to rest on his belt and he juts the chin of his helmet at the weapon in your hand. “You got enough to make another one?”

“That’s their offer?”

“That’s their offer.”

Now it’s your turn to sigh as you lock in the final calibrations, your neck and shoulders aching from working half the afternoon on a blanket in the baking sands. “Yeah. More than enough parts. Time though, that’s another issue. I just,” one last twist of the mico-spanner, a click as the final panel fits into place, you toss the finished hilt to him, “I can’t believe that a little boy is worth the same amount to them as a dragon’s gut rock.”

Din catches the piece, ignites the blade, turns it, twists it through the air to hear its low feral howling, then hits the power switch, dimming its vibrating emerald light. “Well, not even as much. Pearl cost us one of these and the rest of our water.” When you make a face he adds, “We should be fine until we reach Mos Pelgo. We can get more there.”

“The water’s not the detail I’m unhappy about.”

Taking a quiet assessment of the mess in front of you–the scattered scrap metal and bits of pearl, the wires and tools and sand, always so much sand–the realization that you’ll have to start all over again and work into the evening is suddenly exhausting.

Even if he's not a force-user, you can see that Din picks up on this and you close your eyes as he moves around and takes a seat on the blanket behind you. After removing your pauldrons, his gloved fingers work into your shoulders and neck, deliciously limbering you, stretching out all the constriction, smoothing down all the coils. Even if it is more military restoration than it is gentle relaxation, it’s what he knows, his way of giving care.

A water bladder lands in your lap. “You haven’t been drinking.”

He’s right. And you take a long draw as his hands pull and prod your muscles, untangling the mess you’ve made of them, letting him heal you and do his bit to protect you from as much hurt as he can.

It isn’t the touch you truly long for–his gloves and your flight suit keep his fingertips from gliding over your skin, your helmets prevent his lips from kissing the back of your neck, beskar and leather cover the chest you so badly would like to sink back into. The way he has twisted your fingers in his own, or dragged his nose behind your ear, or leveraged your thigh with one of his own… It seems a sin that you are being given the gift of his touch and his care and yet, greedy and selfish, you would wish for more.

But perhaps you’re not the only selfish one here. His hands finally flatten out, firm kneading becomes gentle soothing, palms eventually sliding down to cradle your elbows as the ting of his helmet meets the back of your own, and you feel the broad frame behind you slowly fill with air and expel it in a fashion that, had it carried sound, may have been a soft whine.

How gracefully your hearts dance together. How far you’ve both traveled to meet here in this place.

“You should take a break; get up and move around.” Flaying himself from you, Din stands and holds out a gentle hand, beckoning. “Come on. I’d like to meet the kid.”

________________

Uli-ah works with a few of the other children, almost completely swallowed in bantha fur as they hold up one of the beast’s feet while a herder inspects it. Once that foot has been deemed healthy, the children race to the next foot, jostling and braying laughter as they vie for space to help pick up the next paw while the bantha merely shifts its weight and chews its cud.

Din sits by your side in the hot sand, waiting quietly while the children and the herder finish their task, and then Uli-ah runs your way, ending in a skid on his knees as he comes to a stop almost in your lap.

The elders say I’m going away with you.

“That’s right. We will be leaving at first light tomorrow. Are you ready for an adventure?”

The child bounces on his knees, braying his own kind of laughter, not quite Tusken, but certainly not human.

“I guess that’s a yes,” you laugh, then point to Din. “This is our Captain. He’ll be with us. He flies the ship and protects us.”

The bouncing stops then, and Uli-ah makes a half move, as if he’s going to hide from the Mandalorian behind you, except that Din’s hands cut through the air as he speaks.

“I’ll make sure. You’re safe.”

There’s a slow, renewed interest from Uli-ah as he realizes that he can communicate with this stranger and he raises his own hands into gesture.

You can speak with your hands.

Din chuckles, signs back. “Yes. I’ve talked with your people. For a long time.”

There’s a wave of relief that comes over the boy, some kind of calm knowledge that “his people” are changing, that you and Din will be his people soon.

Then his hands clap and flutter excitedly–

I’m going to go to school!!!!

–before he tosses himself backward onto the sand in a moment of youthful glee.

You don’t know what lifts your heart more, this display of joy, or the sound of Din’s quiet laughter–light and welcoming and calm–coming through the comm.

In the morning every mother in the clan will touch the child’s head as they pass by him in a line. All the men will gather in a group and shout a message of farewell before turning back to their herd. But on the back of the speeder, it is you that Uli-ah will hold tightly. And even before that, it is Din who will help him get situated on the seat, check him over to make sure he’s secure, pat him kindly on the back, and tell him there’s nothing to fear.

Your Mandalorian’s come to understand that there are some who can see through the beskar to the good man underneath. And you can see he’s starting to believe it himself.

Some beliefs, it seems, can take a long time to crack. But belief can also nourish a man in the desert and show a warrior that his milder moments can house another form of strength.

Ahsoka really did choose well for you. And the Darksaber chose well for itself.

________________

It’s taking all of your concentration to keep the speeder bike at a steady velocity as you whip through the canyon. What you wouldn’t do for a cup of caf.

The second saber build had gone smoother than the first since you had duplicates of many of the same pieces and were able to put something together more easily, but you’d still worked past twilight and then there was packing up the speeder and joining the group for evening meal….

After that, you’d lain awake, curled into Din, listening to his shallow breathing, trying to come up with a valid argument for going with him, each excuse a play more desperate than the one before it. You actually entertained the thought of removing the kyber from the Darksaber while he slept--your most clever plan yet. Except for the fact that the weapon was entirely sealed and getting into it would cause more damage than your honor would let you make.

He’s the Mand’alor. The High Leader. Whether he likes it or not, if he won’t fight or let anyone best him, then he must take up the mantle. If the Mandalorians are gathering, he can’t fail to steer their ship. There’s so much he has to learn about the weapon. Also so much he has to learn about asking for assistance. You think there has to be someone who can tell him this, make him understand how much his level head and moral compass and loyalty to his people are needed. Someone who can teach him to wield the instrument of his leadership….

But your hour of denial is over. Because there is someone.

It’s you.

But who are you to him? You are not his advisor. Not a member of his sect. Not even his…for lack of a better word…queen….

“Used the wrong word. Called you my queen instead of woman. I tried to correct myself and they asked me who you ruled over.”

“Ah. And you said, ‘just me.’”

“Yep.’”

“What did I say about burning out the repulsors, Little Bird?” Din’s voice cuts through your thoughts into your earpiece, bringing your focus back to the task at hand, and you ease off on the throttle so Fennec’s speeder can catch up to yours.

From the moment the suns broke the horizon, Uli-ah has been attached to you–literally refusing to loosen his clutch of your flight suit–the realization sinking in that he’s leaving behind everything he’s ever known and keeping close to the best constant he has. So it only made sense that he’d ride with you, and Din would pair with Fennec.

She’s an intimidating one, Fennec Shand. Din mentioned that she’d been an assassin for hire in the Imperial days, that he’s never known anyone who can beat her skill or match her tenacity. And you believe him; she has eyes like a lothcat and a body like a loaded pulse rifle, always watching, seemingly always ready to strike. But there’s a sparkle to her too, an allure that draws you in like bait for the snare.

He’s known her longer than you. The bond between them is strong. A bond between friends, between warriors. You can sense his high regard for her. He’s holding onto her waist so nonchalantly…

Well this is a new feeling. You shake it off and find a constructive distraction.

“How are you doing back there, padawan?”

This is fun! It goes so fast! What’s a padawan?

“It’s an old word. It means you are in training to be a master of the powers you have. The old word for those powers was ‘force,’ and they called the masters Jedi.”

You are Jedi?

“Well. Something like that.” Leaning the speeder around a curve in the canyon, you similarly bend the subject. “You’re going to join other kids like you. I can’t wait for you to meet Shiari and Grogu. They’re gonna be so happy to have a new friend.”

It would be easy to miss it over the whine of the speeder bike–a soft sigh. You keep forgetting that the comm is open. And any mention of Grogu is always bittersweet for Din.

He misses the little one so much. It’s evident that he’s happy that Grogu’s safe and learning, that he’s where things are best for him. But it still twists your heart. Din went from being alone to being a father at hyper warp–taking to it like a Gungan to water–and something about that makes you smile.

Grogu’s ability to charm the mighty warrior. Din’s sleeping heart opening for him, blooming like a hundred-year codaflower in Grogu’s warm spring. Except for the danger of his lifestyle, Din makes a good father. Any kid would be lucky to have him. Even beyond your feelings for him, his devotion makes it an honor to be serving the mission with him.

“Little Bird.”

Oops. “Sorry. Just wanna get there, I guess,” your excuse is accompanied  by the return to a manageable speed. Again.

“We’ll be hitting Mos Pelgo soon. Don’t tear up the town on your way in.”

“Telling me what not to do only tests my willful streak, Your Highness.”

“I’m aware.” There’s a low warning in his voice, but also a smirk. “I’m willing to make it an order if that’s the motivation you need.”

Slowly swiveling your visor in his direction, you watch as he does the same to you. A playful tease.

“You. Wouldn’t. Dare.”

And without turning away, you punch the throttle, defiantly taking the lead, Uli-ah roaring in excitement behind you even as he holds on for dear life. ________________

Mos Pelgo is a quiet settlement, barely big enough to be called anything other than an outpost. Moisture farms flicker in and out of the distance through the waves of heat in a constellation surrounding a one-street center, a short line of earthen structures topped in domes and rods, connected by a boardwalk lifted off the dusty path. The few dust-coated people out and about stop and stare as you coast by, involuntarily shrinking back away from the path. Not that you can blame them. They seem peaceful and it’s not surprising that they might be startled by a band of armored strangers coming in, a Tusken in their mix. Din mentioned that the townsfolk might be wary of Tuskens, but assured that his friend Cobb would vouch for the kid.

What he didn’t tell you is that once they saw his armor, they would lift their hands in a friendly wave. It seems they know him here.

Pulling up outside a cantina, the four of you peel yourselves from your seats with varying degrees of stretching and sighing, your spine aching to be upright and your feet thankful for a chance to be on solid ground. Din and Fennec head up the stairs and you start to follow, but there’s a tug at your elbow.

Is this the school?

“Not yet. We have to travel a long long way, but the Captain has to do a job first and he can’t protect us for the next couple of days. We’re going to stay here with a friend where it’s safe.”

If a Tusken mask can look baleful, Uli-ah achieves it with a long, slow look up and down the settlement path.

“Hey. I promised you a school and you’re going to get one. We might not get there for a while, but you’ll be with me the whole way and guess what.”

You’ll teach me?

“You bet I will. I told you you were smart. You wanna go inside and see if our new friend is there?”

Yes.

Steps are a new concept and Uli-ah takes a cautious step up, and up again, bringing one foot up to meet the other before continuing onto the next. At the top, he considers the short flight of two whole stairs, then steps back down and down. Then he takes the steps one at a time, up and down. Once he runs up a third time you catch him around the shoulders before he can give it another go and give him a playful jostle, guiding him inside as he squeezes his fists in victorious joy.

After the glare of the desert, it’s comparatively dark in the cantina, so you instinctively pull off your helmet.

This is your first mistake.

And sets off a chain of events.

Uli-ah, not accustomed to your helmetless face, stops behind you in the entryway.

Mother, you’re–

He shrieks.

It’s unsafe, mother!

Before you can course correct–calm him or apologize for shifting culture so quickly or even take the time to correct his default of name for you–the Weequay behind the counter reacts fiercely to the the child, pointing and shouting–

“Out! We don’t want trouble here! We have a pact! Out!”

“No, wait–” Din turns sharply to the barkeep, but the damage has been done and the child bolts awkwardly from the cantina out into the light, smashing his shoulder against the port frame as he goes and wailing his way down the boardwalk.

You make a quick gesture to Din as you follow–it’s okay, I’ll get him–and leave your Mandalorian to locating his friend.

By the time you get eyes on him, Uli-ah’s a couple of buildings away–poor boy must be so confused right now–when a tall, old man steps out from one of them, seemingly summoned by the commotion, and the two collide, the boy falling off the boardwalk into the dust, then trying to scramble backward, all heels and palms and elbows.

The man’s good natured, going after the boy and trying to help him up, but it only scares him more. “Whoa there. Hey. Hey there, kid, it’s alright. I’m not tryin’ to hurt you.” Once he gets the boy up and starts dusting him off, Uli-ah struggles to break free, but the man easily holds him, kneeling down to the kid’s level to keep from being a threat. “Hey hey hey. It’s okay. You lost son? Where’s your tribe?”

“I’m so sorry. He’s under my care.” As you converge with them and take Uli-ah’s hand, the child turns and slams into you, hiding his face in your side, holding on with shaking hands. “It’s okay, padawan. Nothing’s gonna happen to you if you stick with me, okay?”

Your second mistake was assuming the man is elderly on account of his grey hair and beard, but when you hold a hand out to help him up, you’re greeted by lively dark eyes and a particularly wry and charming grin. Oh yes, he takes your hand, but puts no weight on it as he stands, only holds it firmly, a handshake that is warm but…unending.

“Ma’am,” he says respectfully, but with a rather rakish sparkle to it, and you catch sight of the stripes on his belt. A Republic Ranger. A welcome sight out here for you, but might cause problems for Din. “You and your friend are new faces around here. I’m the marshal. How can I assist you?”

“I’m, ah, I’m,” stars, that’s some smile. ”I’m here with my partner and his associate. We’re looking for a friend of his. There was a misunderstanding at the cantina and my charge here got a little scared.”

“Well, let’s go see if we can sort this out. If I might escort you…” Instead of releasing your hand, he draws it smoothly under and around his forearm, and in your shock–a little bemused, a little offended–your final mistake is allowing it. And so in this manner, you arrive back at the Cantina, arm in arm with the marshal, pulling Uli-ah along by the hand.

“There he is,” the Weequay nods to your trio as two helmets turn.

“Heard there was a misunderstanding in here with this pretty lady and the young one, is that the way of things, Weequay?”

“Yes, Marshal, my misunderstanding. Won’t happen again.”

The marshal, nodding, turns his attention to Din and Fennec. “Welcome back, Mando. These two belong to you?”

Ah. So you’ve run into the man Din was looking for. All should be well, but something feels off. Din stands still, squared to the three of you, feet in a wide, stable stance. His answer is taking a long time to come. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was in confrontation mode, as if he was going to have to make a tactical move at any second. It’s easy to assume for a moment that perhaps these two aren’t as friendly as you were led to believe.

But the assumption and the tension break as the Mandalorian steps forward to the marshal, each clasping the others’ forearm in a brotherly handshake, “Vanth” and “Mando” exchanged with nods, and a bonus smile on Cobb’s part. Friends indeed then.

Stretching out with your feelings though, there’s an anomaly rolling around in Din, something faintly protective. Something that’s bitten off by his terse, “Yes. These two are mine.”

When the marshal drops your hand and swaggers loose and lanky over to a nearby table, it’s only then that Din’s muscles relax, that he shifts slowly to one hip, that his hand leaves off the habitual hover near his blaster and hooks itself into his belt.

It’s all you can do not to gape.

You’ve never seen Din jealous before.

But that seems to be melting swiftly as he takes a seat by his friend. Cobb Vanth orders a full round from the proprietor, and leans forward over the table, grinning a whole galaxy full of teeth in the mirror of Din’s visor and declares, “Sure would like to know what skugbunny you followed to find yourself all the way out here again.”

________________

Fennec stands in the light, her svelte figure like a knife stuck in the sand, finding less commotion outside where she can send a communique to her boss. You can hardly blame her; Cobb is a loud talker and Uli-ah has found distraction in a pair of sabacc dice which he throws over and over, clattering across the table as he plays a game he’s making up on the spot, cheating against himself every once in a while with a subtle force push of a die, although you’re the only one who notices.

After his economical explanation to Cobb, Din passes his glass to you, something he does often now in public places, allowing you to drink what he cannot. “What I’m looking for is shelter for my partner and her charge here. Refills on supplies. Fuel. I’m willing to pay.”

“So what’s the favor then?” The marshal squints, taking a swig of his spotchka.

“I want no harm to come to these two,” Din says, tilting his helmet in your direction. “I’m bound to protect them, but I need to go take care of something. Should be back within a day.”

“So you’re looking for a security detail,” he says, finishing the cup. “You got it. No problem. I’ll look after them personally.” A cheeky wink punctuates the offer.

That odd twinge rises in Din again, like smoke from a too hot fire, and you lay a hand on his knee under the table. “Uli-ah and I won’t cause you any trouble, marshal. This seems like a peaceful place you keep here. We should be able to manage alright.”

Cobb misinterprets your polite decline of babysitting as an act of humble courtesy. “It’s no trouble at all, ma’am. We don’t have any public lodgings here in Freetown, but I’ve got a room. It’s yours. Nowhere safer.”

There’s nothing to say that wouldn’t seem rude.

“That’s…very generous. The boy and I are grateful for a place to stay.”

“Right then,” Cobb slaps his hand on the table, using it to push him up off his chair. “I’ll go scare up some water reserves for your journey.”

There’s silence at the table when he leaves, broken only by the rattle of dice on its surface as Uli-ah tries over and over again to break his top score. Din stares off after the marshal, but hesitates to follow. Something’s on his mind.

You wager a guess.

“Din. We’ll be okay. There’s nothing to be jealous of.”

“I’m not…jealous.”

You squeeze his knee. “This could all be avoided if you let us come with you–”

“No.” He finally draws in a long breath, exhales, and turns the visor to you. “I want you safe. You’ll stay here. That’s an order.”

“An…order?”

“We’re on the job and I call the shots when it comes to your safety.”

“Yes, but–”

There’s movement outside at the speeders, a woody thud and scrape as a water camtono is deposited and then picked up from the boardwalk.

He doesn’t let you finish, standing and holding out a hand to help you up. “I’ve got to get the supplies packed in.”

Something’s turned off in him. The courtesy’s there, but he’s doing his best to control his emotions....

To hide them from you.

“Come on, Uli-ah. We’ll see the Captain off and then we’re going to stay with Marshal Vanth for a couple of days, okay?” By the time you tear the youngling away from his new toys, the corner of Din’s cape is disappearing out the door.

Kriff. This is bad. Something’s wrong and he can’t leave like this. He can’t take this uncertainty with him.

Taking a seat on a crate while they prep Fennec’s speeder, you just stay out of the way and observe. Cobb chatters cheerfully at the assassin, bringing out supplies from the storehouse, exchanging old tarps for new, handing over a fuel hose. But Din keeps out of the conversation, silently busies himself with a last minute tune up of the vehicle.

He’s removed his packs from Fennec’s bike–both to facilitate a more strategic repack and to access a panel behind one of the side compartments–and they sit propped up against the boardwalk nearby.

That’s it.

There’s something you need to do.

Sidling over to his packs and reaching out with your feelings, you search for the thrum of kyber. There it is. It’s easy to locate the Darksaber and extract it from the pack. You place it in your lap, covering it with the end of your tunic.

Uli-ah’s found some whomp rats living under the boardwalk and you watch as he plays with them, running to one side when they do, and trying to beat them to the other side when they change course.

After a short while, Din closes up the hatches and reattaches the spanner to its flank seating. Then he makes his way over to you, silently retrieves his packs, and returns to the speeder, taking a long time tying them down.

It’s only when everything’s ready to go and there’s nothing more to keep him away, he comes back and lays a hand on your cheek. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Leaning into his hand and trapping it with one of your own, you hold up the Darksaber with the other. “You need to concentrate, Din.” His short, frustrated sigh only pushes your resolve further. “You’re not the only one with a duty of care, mister. This blade is tricky and you need all the help you can get.”

“I’ll be okay, Little Bird.”

“Not if you leave in the state you’re in. I know you’re not angry at me, but you’re uncomfortable leaving me here and you can’t leave like that. This weapon,” you whisper urgently, pressing the hilt into his palm, “won't listen to you unless your feelings are sharp. You’ll need its emotional boost to tap its whole potential and gain mastery over it. I can’t send you off like this. I won’t. I need you to know you have nothing to worry about.”

He’s silent for a moment, choosing his words. “I’m not worried. Not about you.”

He means it, you can hear it, but he’s still not content with leaving you. It’s not just another man finding you attractive, there’s something in him that’s warring. Not quite fear, something closer to insecurity, confusion…

...and you realize that he hasn’t grappled with feelings like this before.

Then it’s time. Set him up for success.

You’ll do anything to help him, to protect him.

To ensure he uses this weapon with love.

This won’t be difficult.

On the contrary, it’s the easiest decision you’ve ever made.

Placing one hand over his on the saber, and the other on his breastplate right above his heart, you look him calm in the eye and pour all your confidence and affection into the words–

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”

________________

PART 3: DIN

The way you bravely face challenges. How you deftly handle your weapon. The way you inject a sense of playfulness into his orbit, your entry into his world a lively ignition to what feels like a whole new epoch in his life.

Life before your arrival, and life after. Not many have affected him like this. Changed his mind and heart like this. He can only think of one other.

But this connection is different from the bond he shares with Grogu. This one is unique, it comforts and calms him, makes him feel worthy as a man and a Mandalorian, meets him as an equal and captures his wonder in ways he wouldn’t have anticipated.

You never cease to amaze him. Even now.

He has witnessed Mandalorian courtships out of the periphery of his everyday life, seemingly never taking much notice, believing it was never meant for him.

But he did take note. Secretly. Resigned. He noticed those who grew up together and took their time. He noticed couples that seemed to range from rivals to friends to bonded in the matter of days. There didn’t seem to be a pattern, no guidelines on the right way to find your partner, or how long it might take to declare a joining.

With you… he doesn’t know what you might expect from him. Din doesn’t quite understand your old creed–the rejection of attachments–how tightly you hold it and how much of it you’ve already broken for him.

Because he loves you. In a way that’s perplexing. Your love came to him, and his to you, meeting in the middle of the battlefield. But there was no skirmish, no treaties, just a foregoing of pretense, and open arms.

Simple. Beautiful. Like everything you do.

Perhaps he felt like he was betraying that simplicity–that openness, that trust–when Vanth rounded the doorway wearing you and your new foundling on his arm. It wasn’t as simple as jealousy and a twist of the heart, but the hot flash of possession that flamed behind the beskar, growling from deep within him.

Attachment.

Mine.

While he was grateful and happy to claim you as his own as far as you gave yourself, to protect you and serve you, to meet your affection with his own, he had no right to chain you to him, to claim you so thoroughly that you could not be free in order to flourish. He would never ask you to form an attachment that would fracture your faith.

He didn’t and doesn’t think for a moment that you have any interest in Vanth. Or anyone but himself.

But the flash of emotion was dangerous. Selfish. Not the kind of love you deserve.

And yet, you still accept it. You perceive it because you know him. And you accept it.

And now you’re speaking words that are not only true…they’ve been true from the beginning of this whole damn venture.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” You repeat the words, only a little worry sneaking into your voice now because he hasn’t answered you, hasn’t spoken…dank farrik, how long has he been standing here in shock?

How long has he believed he would never receive those words?

All that’s necessary is a repetition.

It’s only words.

But it’s everything.

Which is what he’s always wanted to give you.

So he makes the exchange. Quietly. Simply. Sincerely.

"We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors."

And he can feel it. He can feel the love and concern you have for him. He can feel your trust. It pushes into him like a warm wave, flowing through all the way back to the beginning. The throughline of that first night he walked you home–I’ll be your armor–to the moment when he outfitted you with some of your own, to now as you use your whole self to send him off with armor more resilient than beskar and a reminder when he wields the saber just who gave him that gift.

Clutching your hand at his chest, he squeezes tightly as the wave washes back through him, gritting his teeth behind the visor, the emotions silently taking their toll.

To everyone else, the armor says he is a stoic warrior, his silence is his strength.

But standing here, now, in front of you, he might as well be unmasked, might as well be naked and screaming; he knows your heart can sense the riot in his, even if you can’t see his face.

There’s quiet on the street. Uli-ah’s stopped playing with the womp rats and stands staring from a distance. Fennec and Vanth are waiting for him at the speeder. And yet, he can’t seem to move, can’t seem to leave you.

So you lay hands on his helmet and pull him closer, gently tapping your forehead against the cold metal. “Go. The sooner you go, the sooner you come back to me.” ________________

They’ve lost a little time, but by the position of the suns, they should still make the palace by nightfall.

“So Fett’s taken over the crime syndicate?”

“Not quite,” Fennec shouts over the roar of her speeder and the rush of the wind. “Boba’s interested in striking a deal with Madame Garza in Mos Espa. Going to set up protections. Territories. Wants to undo some wrongs he’s made in the past.”

That’s noble. He’s an odd man, Fett. Unpredictable. But there’s no reason Din can see for saying it out loud, and so he reserves his words, focuses instead on the shifting sands.

“That was a tense parting with your partner back there,” Fennec pokes, taking advantage of the silence.

“Yeah. Riduurok.”

“Is that serious?”

“From what I’ve been told, it can be.”

Fennec deftly maneuvers the speeder around a small minefield of rocky outcroppings before turning her head over her shoulder and side-eyeing him curiously through the slit in her helmet, “From what you’ve been told–?”

“I don’t know,” Din says, his vocoder barely audible over the slur of the world going by, not caring much who hears it other than himself, “I’ve never heard anyone else actually speak those words. There aren’t usually witnesses at a Mandalorian wedding.” ________________

To be continued.

[nimonabigbang]

🎇Attention All Nimona Writers! 🎇

If you are planning on writing a story, event or not, there is a wonderful site you can use that lets you pace yourself on a daily word count.

NaNoWriMo (National November Writing Month)

About NaNoWrimo:

"NaNoWriMo is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit that believes in the transformational power of creativity. We provide the structure, community, and encouragement to help people use their voices, achieve creative goals, and build new worlds—on and off the page."

How It Works for Writers (their links are included as well in the quotes because why not):

"Once a writer (or soon-to-be writer!) signs up on our site, they can participate in our programs in a variety of ways. Prefer to write on your own timeline? Set independent writing goals and work at your own pace. Prefer the exquisite pressure of an ambitious deadline and enthusiastic community egging you on? Set an official challenge goal during National Novel Writing Month in November or Camp NaNoWriMo in April or July. You’ll receive resource-packed messages (and the occasional celebratory gif) from us, and if you reach your word-count goal, you can access a special winner page with sponsor offers and more.

Either way, once you’ve signed up, you can explore our how-to materials, make writer friends in the forums, join your local region(s) to see what’s going on nearby, pop in on the occasional virtual event hosted by NaNo HQ, make buddies and join writing groups, get inspired by pep talks from authors like Gene Luen Yang, Roxane Gay, Kacen Callender, John Green, and N. K. Jemisin, and—of course—track your writing progress, novel or otherwise."

Feel Free to check out the rest of their site for more information as well!

CB the Mod Uses this Religiously!

I also want to let you know that I (CB) use this site for every single one of my stories when I get close tof inishing them, I also use this for other big bangs that I wrote for. While it is for the NaNoWriMo (National November Writing Month) challenge, it can be utilized for everything!

Back to the Big Bang:

So, big bang writers, if you have trouble pacing, or are worried about that, please use this to give you some peace of mind for the event. And if you need to adjust the word count, or due date, either make a new project, or edit the one you're working on!

[that-salty-ghost]

As Above, So Below | Chapter 24: Date Night Pt 2: Sinking Ship | Viktor [Arcane] // Male Reader | Rating: M Throughout

A/N: I was high af on NyQuil writing half of this and sick with covid the other half so this chapter has ✨personality✨ Word Count: ~5k Summary: Viktor's idea of a good time is a felony Tags: drinking, swearing, crimes, mention of drowning Last Chpt: Date Night Pt 1: Not So Smooth Sailing Check my pinned post for more details/previous chapters/etc.

The two of you pack up as it starts to get dark and follow the river back—catching up about Viktor’s day along with his lack of luck with finding a new work space.

“You’ll find the right one. Do you need a lot of space or something?”

“Not at all, in fact I’d rather sacrifice square footage if it meant I could use more funds for higher grade materials.”

“What kind of materials are you looking for?”

Viktor’s eyes light up as he sorts through his mental checklist. “I’m still developing the blueprints, but so far I know I’ll need titanium and ehh…either charcoal or activated carbon.”

You purse your lips as you look up, gaze unfocused while you run through where you could trade for those goods, especially the last one. “I could help with that if you want? Least I can do if you’re interested in helping me with metalwork?”

“Yes.” His eager smile spreads easily to you. “Yes, I think we’d make a good team.”

“I think so too…Oh! Speaking of work—” You turn your body as you go through one of your holsters, catching Viktor’s attention as you find the goggles and pull them out. “I’m not sure if these are your style, but I thought they might come in handy when you find your lab space.”

You hold them out hesitantly, unsure of what he’ll think of your Piltie-purchased wares. Reading him is tough, his brows furrow in confusion as he takes the goggles from you, eyes softening the more he inspects them.

That’s gotta be a good sign, right?

“Consider it an early housewarming—err—labwarming…present.” You stutter and cringe at yourself as you try to bounce back. “And uh…just a gift for…you…too.”

Fuck’s sakes, just stop talking.

A small smile parts his lips, brows flicking quickly before he looks back up at you. There’s not much distance between you and you swallow nervously when his eyes catch yours.

You open your mouth to speak, but can only inhale sharply when you feel Viktor’s arms around you—pulling you close to his chest as his fingers find purchase across your shoulders. The initial shock of it all causes you to freeze, arms stiff at your sides until you realize what’s happening. Slowly, you move your hands up until you’re wrapped around the small of his back, happily returning his embrace.

His hips are narrower that you were expecting as you your arms enfold him. Steady, measured breaths fill his chest that presses gently against yours, lowering your heart rate with each inhale as your body heat courses through one another.

The way his hair tickles your ear makes you accidentally nuzzle into his neck and you pause, horrified that you’ll scare him off. A soft sound leaves him at the sensation, a mix between a chuckle and a sigh before he leans the side of his head against yours in return, breath warm against your skin as his low whisper sends a shiver through your entire being.

“Thank you.”  

You can’t fight the urge to lean in closer to his touch, lips almost grazing his ear as you answer with a breathy “You’re welcome.” A soft grin teases its way onto your face when you feel the muscles in his back tense up, a small display that you’re having the same effect on him as you revel in the way his grip tightens around your shoulders.

When he eventually pulls away, a pitiful noise almost escapes as his warmth leaves you. But the way he drags his hands from your shoulders to your chest heats you right back up. Your mouth remains parted as you watch him trace his fingers along the leather of your holsters.

“This is resourceful.” He states as he studies the tool. “You have any other gifts hiding in here?”

The way his knuckles dip under the strap across your chest causes him to pull you forward just slightly. You feel your head tip up unconsciously as you exhale through your mouth, giving him better access with eyes wide open when you see him notice the subtle movement. He tilts his head down and to the side while his smug grin spreads like wildfire.

Fuck. He knows you’re enjoying this.

“I left your chocolates at home.” You blurt out as your heart thumps from your chest into the back of Viktor’s hand. He cocks a brow and loosens his grip on your holster.

“You…got me chocolates?”

“Uh, accidentally a little. Yeah. They were for my sister…I guess.”

“You have a sister?”

“No.”

“…Oh.”

You bite your knuckle before resting your chin on your fist.

‘STOP. FUCKING. TALKING.’

Viktor licks his lips with a small grin while he allows his fingers to release their hold on the leather strap—seeming to understand that he just short-circuited your brain. “I actually brought you something too.”

“Y—you did?”

“Yes. But I think there’s a better way to enjoy it than what I originally had in mind…”

Your confusion only fuels Viktor’s mischievous expression as he continues walking with you by the river. He starts to better take in his surroundings, scanning the area and then the water. You’ve both gotten pretty far away from the city so you’re not sure what he could be looking for out here.

“I’m intrigued.” You bite your lip as you glance around with him. “What are you doing?”

“Checking to see if the coast is clear. Keep an eye out?”

You turn around to watch the land as he walks down towards the water. “For what? What am I even looking for?”

“People—just make sure no one can see us.”

Surprised and puzzled by his words, your brows rise like the heat rushing from your neck into your ears. Your breath picks up as your imagination runs wild with the possibilities of what this is going to lead to. “What…don’t we want them to see?”

“This.”

The sound of water sloshing disrupts the quiet and you turn to find Viktor tugging a small boat closer to the dock. Your eyes widen as you take in the sight, your jaw slack in disbelief.

“What do you mean this, what are you doing?!” You half whisper, half yell while he looks completely at ease committing grand theft auto.

“Seeing where the night takes us!” Viktor half whispers, half shouts back as he shrugs his pack into the boat. “You said that sounded good!”

“I thought that meant getting a cheap room at an inn, not committing a felony!”

“A cheap room?” There’s a definite stillness in the air now. He looks over at you and your face turns red when you see a sly grin cross his lips. “For what?”

“…Talking.”

“Mm.” His brows cock as he tips his head up, clearly not buying it before humming again. “Mmhm.” He nods and glances back at the vessel, almost looking like he’s considering your option anyway…until he throws his cane into the boat.

“Oops. Now I have no choice.”

“Oops, my ass!” There’s not much you can do as you watch Viktor crouch down to get into the boat. The sound of him laughing quietly fills the air as you start to jog over to get into the goddamned thing with him.

After Viktor helps you climb in, you dig your feet into the dock and push off—sending you out a small distance until he hands you one of the paddles. “Have you done this before?” You ask as you take the wooden oar from him.

“Theft or rowing?”

“…How about both?”

“I’ve never rowed a boat before.” He shifts his gaze towards your arms as he puts his paddle in the water, keeping time with your strokes on the other side. “But we seem to be doing quite well, don’t you think?”

You contemplate the way he answered that question and your eyes widen at the man sitting across from you with a lopsided grin. “WHAT ELSE HAVE YOU STOLEN, VIKTOR?!”

“Shhh—hhfff—shh!” He can’t finish his attempt to quiet you as his shushing sounds get caught up into laughter while you yell at him. He’s unable to keep a straight face as he tries to bring a finger to his lips, making you laugh as well until you’re both cracking up at how ridiculous this entire situation is.

The two of you ease into paddling further out on the river and you finally settle down once you realize no one is missing this boat right now. Once you’re a good distance out from the shore, you both pull the oars back into the vessel so you can sit and drift for a while.

You catch Viktor rolling his wrist and your eyes lock momentarily, but neither of you speak about it. Instead, he moves to go through in his pack with a huff, sounding frustrated when you hear him mumble “It got dark so fast…”

“I think this is a fishing boat…” You start before you feel around under your seat, switching to Viktor’s when you come up empty. “There’s gotta be someth—here we go!” You pull a lantern out from under him along with a small box of waterproof matches.

Once lit, Viktor’s eyes are the first thing you notice. A mix of appreciation and admiration of your quick work that he verbalizes with a soft “Well done.” before he finally finds a couple of tin cups to hand over to you. “Precursors to your gift, as promised.”

“I like where this is going.” You grin as he digs deeper until he brandishes a green-tinted bottle. “Ooh. I love where this is going…is—is that gin?”

“Your favorite, right?”

“Yeah…how’d you—”

“Remy told me.” He holds his hand out, asking for one of the cups and starts to pour the liquor for you.

“Remy tells you my favorite drink, Landon tells you about my cooking habits…” Viktor doesn’t look up—only flashes a wily grin at your accusation.

“You heard about that, eh?” His smile softens as he hands off the now full cup, you trade him for the empty one so he can pour himself one as well.

“Did you know they put bets on us going out?”

He looks up with his brows raised and shakes his head, seemingly still amused. “No, but I imagine Landon won.”

“He did. Free brunch.” Lazily, you swirl the liquor in your cup as the lantern’s dim light highlights the edges of Viktor’s high cheekbones. Your gaze shifts to the water to distract your urge to trace his jawline with your fingertips.

“High stakes to be sure.” He goes to cork the glass until you notice how full it is.

“That a new bottle?” You nod at the gin and Viktor pauses, glancing at the drink then back to you.

“Yes…why?”

“We have this tradition-turned-ghost-story where if you don’t pour one out from a new bottle, it’s bad luck.”

“Are you superstitious?” His eyes flicker playfully under the light of small flame, catching the flecks of gold and amber in his irises and only furthering the certainty in your voice.

“I know my father’s ghost would have no qualms capsizing the fuck out of this boat given the opportunity.”

“So, we pour one out not in memoriam, but to appease your father’s spirit?”

“Angry spirit. He died mad at me.” You raise your brows towards the bottle and dip your head down. “Unless you wanna test our luck even further tonight.”

“No. No, I don’t want that.” He chuckles, tipping the bottle over the edge of the boat until the liquid meets the water with a small trickle. He looks over the side and pulls the gin back, corking it as he watches the water. “I hope I didn’t just kill a school of fish with that.”

“Pour one out for them too.”

Viktor’s eyes go wide as he slowly turns his head towards you, fraught with both disbelief and good humor.

“Sorry, cheers.” You tip your cup to his, making him shift his gaze to his drink and break his disturbed expression when a breathy laugh leaves him.

“Yes, cheers.”

A small “Mm.” escapes you as the cold drink sends liquid heat down your chest. Your eyes fall shut as you enjoy how notes of juniper and coriander flood your senses. He brought really good gin.

“I hope that was a sound of approval?”

“More than approval, this is divine.”

“Mm…that’s good to know.”

His voice dips, sultry and smooth like the liquor lingering on your palate. You struggle to believe that he’s referring to the quality of the gin and open your eyes to find him looking completely content.

“Wh—what’s good to know?”

Viktor takes a sip, eyeing you carefully with a slow arch of his brows and equally slow shrug of his shoulders.

His silence leaves just enough room for interpretation to drive you mad and your hesitance to respond is met with a change in subject. “Is this your first time on a boat?”

“…Yes.” You answer through a held breath. “Is this your first act of piracy?”

“It’s not piracy if we’re borrowing it.”

“Sounds like something a pirate would say.”

Hours pass like minutes as you both float with the current. Formalities fall away as cups are traded for the two of you taking swigs straight from the bottle in between your laughter and lighthearted conversations.

Viktor spreads out bit by bit as the night goes on—one leg stretching on the outside of yours, slightly bumping against your calf when he laughs or moves to hand off the gin. You’re not sure if he notices or is aware of the contact, but you’re not complaining in the slightest.

You sit comfortably with your elbows perched on your knees, leaning forward to offer him the bottle and briefly exchanging glances when your fingertips brush against one another’s.

His arm leans casually on the side of the boat, tipping and rolling the bottle around as both of you muse over designing a robot that could help with all of Runterra’s problems.

…Sort of.

“Like a drinking buddy that wouldn’t let us get too blitzed like last time…and could crank up that boat for us too.” Your aspirations are nothing shy of a hot mess right now.

“I’m proposing something along the lines of a golem that provides more of an environmental impact with the capacity to rebui—”

“Blitzcrank.”

“What?”

You don’t mean to cut him off, but your filter is starting to wane with each pass of the liquor bottle. “That’s what I would name him. A responsible drinking buddy that help cranks the boat.”

“Blitzcrank.” Viktor chuckles softly before arching a brow with a tilt of his head. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.” He takes a small sip, holding eye contact with you before leaning forward to pass the bottle back. “We could probably use him right now.”

“Hah. Maybe so.”

A breeze picks up and the corner of your mouth curls when Viktor’s hair gets swept up in it. Nimble fingers weave through dark locks, pushing them back out of his eyes that study you so meticulously.

It doesn’t take long for you to get lost in the haze of his golden-amber while he watches the way your lower lip rests against the mouth of the bottle. Gaze flipping eagerly to your Adam’s apple when you swallow and back to your eyes when you offer the drink back.

“Not to be a…y’know, bartender…but your eyes sort of remind me of whiskey.”

Viktor pauses, seemingly surprised by your observation when he picks up the gin. “Is that so?” Curiosity plagues his grin as his lips graze the mouth of the bottle when he speaks.

You nod slowly, watching him carefully as you become increasingly more envious of the bottle he’s sipping from.

“What kind of whiskey?”

He holds onto the gin and leans forward as you study his irises, a perfect blend of cloudy and bright as the effects of alcohol feud with his desire for more details.

“For the color…I’d say a bourbon.” When you tilt your head to get a better look, the fire from the lantern dances frantically with gilded gold, shifting your standpoint just slightly. “Mm…one with honey in it.” You conclude, pleased when you see color begin to warm his cheeks.

You watch as he fidgets with the bottle, expression inquisitive while he takes in your every word as you continue. “But the intensity—”

Your attention shifts when you look down to find his knee is now pressed just inside of your own, the bottle dangling lazily in his grip as he lifts it up for you. When his fingers brush yours he lets them remain for a second longer while his eyes burn wildly under heavy brows.

“Intensity?” He smirks playfully, rolling his thumb over your fingertips that immediately shoots fire up your arm before letting go. You bite your lip trying to hang onto your composure before he encourages you to continue. “Go on…”

He watches you with interest as you cork and set the bottle down, even though you’re mentally clinging to it for the rest of your courage as the conversation becomes less and less about whiskey.

“The intensity is more like a rye...” Silence fills the air, making it impossible to not feel your heart pounding in your ears while he considers that comparison.

Viktor leans further towards you, head slightly tilted down as his words drip low and slow. “What makes rye so much more…” A subtle grin barely parts his lips, eyes scanning you up and down quickly before he finishes his question. “Mm…intense?”

You swallow your nerves as you start to move closer—his leg now nested in between yours while he rests his hand on the inside of your knee. Fingertips beckoning you towards him one-by-one, inch-by-inch with the lightest touch as they slowly tug and trail along your leg.

“It was the first drink we had together—you don’t remember?” You grin, thinking about how his eyes fell shut while he basked in the heat of the sage-infused rye you shared at The Last Drop.

His own grin grows slyer by the second. You feel his fingers spread out on your leg and you inhale sharply. When you catch Viktor licking his lips, the corner of your mouth quirks up as you take the subtle cue to lean even closer.

“Hmm…remind me.” His tone teases as he slides his hand just slightly higher, feather-light touches slowly undoing you with each passing second.

“You just wanna to hear me say it.”

It comes out as a sigh as slender fingers trail back down your leg. Your lips remain parted as you watch how his hand moves along your thigh before glancing back up when he responds.

“Yes, I do.”

His answer matches the same breathiness as yours when you trail your fingers over the back of his hand, testing to see if you could have the same impact on him, smiling wider when you find that you do.

When his eyes lock with yours, you feel heat surge and scorch through every fiber in your being; in your hands, your chest, all the way down, everywhere. Solidifying the very sensation that you attempt to explain even though your heart all but stops when you see him reflexively look at your lips.

“The intensity is the heat. The fire that follows each sip.” You pause before switching your wording. “The fire…that courses through me with the smallest glance. It bur—...you burn me up entirely.”

Gleaming gold becomes as heavy as lead under brows that rise slowly with each word. An inhale through his mouth replacing any thought he was about to convey, his actions speaking for him instead.

Slowly, meticulously. Viktor moves his hand to your cheek, the rough pad of his thumb leisurely tracing the thin scar there while his fingers splay against your neck. The cold breeze that has been biting at your face immediately subsides as you revel in soothing contact from calloused hands.

You sigh quietly as you begin to let your guard down. Walls you’ve built over the years crumbling to pieces within mere moments. Expression softening as you timidly turn your head into his touch, lightly pressing your lips to the bottom of his palm and enjoying the small gasp that escapes him.

Viktor doesn’t take his eyes off of you while you softly press another small kiss to his inner wrist, his gaze clouded and lips parted all the while. “Do you…know why I stole this boat tonight?” He manages to breathe out.

You smirk against his skin, lower lip barely brushing against him as you answer. “You have a moral deficiency?”

“Other than that.” With a smug grin of his own, Viktor carefully drags his thumb down your cheek until he slowly tugs at your bottom lip—parting it gently, testing the waters and drinking in your reactions.

The similarities are uncanny and for a moment you’re brought back to the dream you had about him—the way he dragged your lips open slowly before asking if you wanted to take him in entirely. The way he filled your mouth completely when you were on your knees for him.

Your heart rate quickens and you fight every fiber in your being to not think about the way his voice dipped when he called you a ‘good boy’.

…Or think about what it would sound like if he said it now.

You’re snapped back into reality when he curls his fingers under your chin, tentatively using the side of his index to tip your head up towards him. The very touch you envied—craved when he was inspecting the tobacco plant—was even more intoxicating than you had thought possible.

The way his gaze remains as warm and calculated as the hand that’s holding you.

The switch of his focus back and forth from your eyes to your lips.

The subtle twitch of muscle in his leg against yours when you wet your lips and accidentally graze his thumb with the tip of your tongue.

It’s all too much.

Eyelids fall heavy and breathing becomes labored. His ragged breaths meet yours in small huffs that fog the air. Air that grows thick with anticipation when you hear Viktor shift in his seat to lean forward, tilting his head to the side as he pulls you closer to him.

You move your weight forward to reach across and rest your hand on his hip. The boat wobbles at the sudden imbalance and you feel Viktor’s other hand grab onto to your holster to hold you steady.

A second passes as you regain your balance.

Another when you look down to find deft fingers clutching onto the leather across your chest.

Then time stops completely.

You’re not sure who moved first. If it was Viktor pulling you onto him by your holster, or if it was you nudging his legs apart so you could close the gap and kiss him.

It didn’t matter.

What mattered was for a moment, you both believed that physics could wait…when it absolutely couldn’t.

The boat rocks violently with your quick movements, knocking you both off balance and backwards onto the floor before hosing you down with freezing river water that sloshes over the side.

The two of you groan for all the wrong reasons as all of the heat that has built up is completely doused. Drenched clothing becomes icy in an instant, sending chills throughout your entire body as the temperature outside drops more and more with each gust of wind.

When you look over to Viktor, he’s no better off than you as he attempts to wring out the bottom of his jacket.

“I’m sorry—” “—didn’t mean to—”

“What were y—” “Sorry wha—”

You fumble around with incomplete thoughts as you pull yourselves up off the floor, carefully trying to keep the small vessel from thrashing around with each movement.

“We should ehh…” Viktor reaches for a paddle and holds it out for you. “…probably get back to land, yes?”

“Oh uh—” While it made sense given the temperature, part of you was still reeling from what had just transpired and your stomach drops a little while you wonder if you just ruined the rest of the night. “Yeah…yeah. Good call.” You take the oar from him and look at the buildings around you. “You uhh…have any idea where we are?”

Viktor places his paddle in the water and starts to row with you. “Actually…no I don’t.”

The ride back is quiet, unnervingly quiet. Your thoughts spiral with confusion and frustration as you try to understand your current situation.

‘He looked like he wanted to…like he was going to…’

You bite your lip thinking about what it would’ve felt like to kiss him had you not dunked him like a demi-god in the River Pilt.

Subtly, you try to sneak a glance up at Viktor as you paddle, trying to read him if possible. However, his focus is fixed on trying to recognize the buildings around you—likely looking for another dock which only furthers your inner turmoil.

‘…But then again, I practically tackled him. How the fuck did that even happen? He probably thinks I’m some desperate, touch-starved, sex-crazed, fiend now. Maybe that’s why he isn’t looking up or talking to me right now…’

The mind can be an amazing thing when an embarrassing moment is followed by over 15 minutes of silence. By the time you make it to a new dock you’ve all but convinced yourself that you’ve probably fucked up this night to the point of no return.

Viktor gets out first and you hand him his backpack before moving to stand up. He holds his hand out and you hand him the bottle.

“Not the gin, give me your hand.” He whispers with a small smile. As tempting as his help is, you can’t bring yourself to touch him again after everything you just put him through.

“Save the gin, I’ll be fine.”

“The gin is the reason we’re not fine.” You hear him grunt under his breath before reluctantly taking the bottle.

You move to step onto the dock and have never regretted drinking more in your entire life.

He’s right. The gin is definitely the reason that you are not fine.

Once you stand you lose your footing—causing the boat to rock, for you to overcorrect, and for recovery to be futile as the entire cosmos spins ruthlessly around you.

Not only do you fall in, but you take the entire boat with you as it flips over.

The chill of the water causes your muscles to tighten but otherwise the steady descent downwards is peaceful. For a moment you consider allowing yourself to drown after you turn your head to see the boat sinking next to you.

Something about the captain goes down with his ship, right? But in reality, you didn’t want to resurface and face Viktor after this.

After all of this.

While you contemplate how the fuck your barely drunk ass is sinking in the river, you can make out a muffled sound of screaming from above the surface and look up. It almost sounds like your name.

…oh shit it is your name.

Viktor is shouting for you.

You look back over as the boat continues to drop deeper and begrudgingly decide not to join it in this half-frozen hellscape as you start to swim back up to the surface.

When you pop your head up you see Viktor looking completely panicked…and half naked. His shirt and jacket are dropped haphazardly across the dock and you notice his pants are unzipped as well.

If you weren’t freezing your balls off you would’ve looked longer, but swimming up to the dock and pulling yourself up out of the freezing cold water unfortunately took precedent.

“What’s w—with the wardrobe malfunction, you trying to go s—ss—skinny dipping?” Slender hands grab ahold of your torso to help hoist you up out of the water until you flop onto the dock with a wet thud.

“I thought you got stuck under the boat and couldn’t get out.” Viktor’s uneven breathing catches, hissing when some of the water comes off of you and onto his bare chest.

“You were going to jump in after—?” You start to roll onto your side to look at him but he cuts you off as hurries to throw his shirt back on.

“We need to go. Especially now that our petty theft has escalated into…” Viktor’s brows raise slowly as bubbles gurgle up. Audible evidence of the boat is finding its way to the bottom of the river. “Ehh…full-on vandalism.”

“Not to mention the impending hypothermia.” You strain a response while you push yourself up off of the dock and he finishes getting dressed.

“Let’s find some shelter so that doesn’t happen, yes?” Viktor hands the gin back over to you with an apologetic look. “Maybe the boat wasn’t a better way to enjoy this after all...”

You glance at the bottle before taking it from him, shaking your head and grinning when you look back up. “I disagree. That was the most fun I’ve had in years.”

Viktor’s voice comes out smaller than usual behind a coy smile. His demeanor almost timid when he picks his eyes back up to meet yours before answering.

“Me too.”

The temperature drops more and more while you both try to figure out where you are in the undercity. You’re grateful Viktor still had your jacket in his pack and manage to ditch your shirt for one dry layer, but it’s not doing much—you’re freezing and need to get out of the cold.

You continue to take swigs out of the bottle to stay warm until Viktor manages to find an inn. He glances at you over his shoulder with a small smirk.

“I guess you’ll get that cheap room you wanted after all.”

You had hoped that he forgot about that comment earlier, but still chuckle when you make your way to the door with him.

“I uh…I didn’t mean for that to come across that way.” You try to cover your tracks to avoid embarrassment and take one last sip of your liquid courage, nearly choking on it when he answers.

“Ah. That’s a shame.” Viktor turns his head as he walks inside, revealing a clever grin while he holds the door for you as you follow. “I was looking forward to talking with you.”

----------

A/N: Date night is officially 3 parts now because I'm a monster ;_;

But hopefully this was a good one and read okay despite all the altered mental states ayyeee. Next chapter will have some warnings, not starting off super crazy but it will likely be 18+ again so I'm excited to dip back into that style :)

The next update will not take this long again, should be back to 1-2 week updates again as long as my life doesn't explode again :'D

[friendlilycoach]

No progress in your business English skills? These are for you.

You can make progress in your business English skills faster than you can think.

Let's be sincere with each other.

Category 1.

When was the last time you tried to improve your business English skills?

Tight schedule, back-to-back busy lifestyle.

You are aware that you need to improve your business English skills but everything is jam-packed.

I am aware that it can be difficult for you to improve your business English skills on your own with no clues.

Discover the secrets to making progress in your business English skills.

Dm the word "progress internationally".

Category 2.

Maybe I am quick to jump to conclusions.

I may be wrong.

Have you been memorising a lot of business English vocabulary?

Honestly, you have been doing a lot to make progress in your business English skills.

You use every business English tip you come across but.....

Dear oh dear.

You are not making progress despite all the efforts and time you put into learning business English.

Discover the secrets to making progress in your business English skills.

Dm the word "progress internationally".

I have no idea what category you may belong to.

I may not have mentioned your category regardless of that.

In case my words resonate with you, my words are making sense to you.

In case you understand me, and we understand each other.

I may be of help to you.

P.S. Discover the secrets to making progress in your business English skills.

Dm the word "progress internationally".

P.P.S. Take advantage of the free business English resources.

Grab yours with your best email address.

Available for busy business owners.

Don't miss out.

Listen to the business English Podcast for busy business owners.

Join friendlily dynasty.

Don't miss out.

Tap the link below.

Let your business friends be surprised by the way you confidently speak English during business meetings.

Expand your business(es) internationally with improved business English skills.

Get the improvements you need.

Check out the link below.

Get more business deals and expand your business{es} internationally with improved business English skills.

Let your business friends be surprised by the way you confidently speak English during business meetings.

🔴Guarantee for you🔴

You will get free coaching for a month.

If you didn't improve at all during the six months of working with me.

Check out the link below for more information.

[daydreaming-away-reality]

Catching Stardust

Tadashi Hamada x Reader | ☁️ + ✨ | 3.9k

Most days, like any other university student, you would wake up tired. Unfortunately for you, that was not today. You had spent the entire night working on your lab report for one of your science courses and didn’t get a wink of sleep. At least it was handed in and done with.

(You had to double check - just in case your brain decided to get desperate and help you imagine the best case scenarios. Thinking and doing were two very different things, they were hard to tell apart when you were so dead tired though.)

It was one of those days.

“Morning, Honey Lemon,” you greeted as you navigated your way into the kitchen for some caffeine. Grabbing your travel coffee tumbler, you watched your blonde roommate in her morning stretching routine.

“Good morning, (Y/N)!” Honey cheerfully replied. “How was not sleeping last night?”

You halted your movements, looking up at her with concern. “Can you tell just by looking at me?”

Honey Lemon laughed. “No, silly. GoGo came home late last night and saw you up. I heard you shuffling around earlier this morning too. No raccoon eyes, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Thank goodness,” you said with a sigh as you continued pouring liquid energy into your tumbler. “This bio course is going to be the death of me.”

“You mean working two part time jobs will be the death of you,” GoGo corrected you as she walked out of her room. “Girl, you need time to have fun too.”

You stuck your tongue out at her. Rummaging through backpack, you noticed a missing tome of knowledge. “Has anyone seen my Medical Terms bible?”

“Coffee table.” Honey called out from the living room as she held the tree pose.

GoGo walked over to you with the heavy book in hand. You mouthed a thank you to her before taking a sip of coffee.

“(Y/N), you need to take some time to make some more friends or meet a cute boy,” Honey Lemon brought up. She exchanged a look with GoGo. “We know someone who you might like. He’s nice and funny, good looking as well.”

You gave your two roommates a sad smile. “By the time I’m ready for a relationship, a boy like that will already be snatched up by someone less stressed about their future.”

Grabbing your premade meals and a couple of snacks, you swung your backpack on.

“I work bookstore and pharmacy today, so I’ll see you both tomorrow morning. Good luck with your projects in the meantime.”

“Bye, (Y/N)!” Honey called out.

“Keep the luck, you need it more than we do,” GoGo said with salute.

Walking out of the apartment, you checked your phone for your schedule once more. Class at nine, bookstore at two and pharmacy at six. And it was already eight thirty, yay. Just your typical jam packed day, all so that you could pay off medical school tuition in the future.

Balancing everything in life was... impossible, but you were managing. 

Full course load university student, working two part time jobs, and a very minimal but still existent social life.

It wasn’t easy, but it was what you wanted. Going to med school was a necessary path to take if you wanted to help people out in your future career choice.

Just as you were arriving on campus, a voice caught your attention.

“(Y/N)…!”

You turned to see your friend Mina, another sufferer pre-med student.

“Hi Mina,” you greeted.

“Did you sleep last night?” she asked. When you shook your head, she let out a loud sigh. “Yeah, me too. Dr. Andrews is going to kill us with these lab reports and the test Thursday. I mean, I’d feel smarter if I weren’t so tired all the time.” 

You smiled. What a mood.

“Is my make up, okay?” Mina asked. “I don’t want Justin to see me at my worse - not yet.”

You glanced over Mina’s face. She had gone through the usual effort to make herself look cute. “You look fine and I’m sure Justin wouldn’t be scared off. He knows we’re med students.”

Mina made a face. “We’ve only been a dating for two months, (Y/N), two! He doesn’t know what kind of crazy we are yet. You never know when he might get skittish and ghost me.”

If you weren’t so tired, you would have laughed. 

Linking arms with Mina, you pulled her towards the classroom. 

Today was going to be just another day.

Tadashi checked over the information on his phone as he walked off campus towards the bookstore. He had been looking up information to help his robotics project and a certain book had come up in his recommendations. Deciding that the resource was worth checking out, and was worth the price, he was determined to get his hands on the book while his robot was still in the works.

Walking through the doors, he made his way to the medical section. Browsing the shelves, he kept an eye out for the particular title.

After circling the area for a while, he let out a huff. Where was this textbook?

Noticing a girl wearing a name tag, he approached her with smile.

“Hi, I was wondering if you could help me?”

She turned to him with a smile, (E/C) eyes making contact with his brown orbs.

“Of course, are you looking for something?”

Tadashi nodded, pulling out his phone and showing her the textbook information.

"Ahhh, this one. That’s a popular book with the first year pre-med student courses,” she commented. “Everyone always asks where this one is - we organize this one by title since there’s no author.”

Leading him back into the medical section, the girl stopped in an area of the bookstore that Tadashi had missed earlier. She tapped the spine of one of the books.

“This one is good resource for in depth procedural explanations,” she explained. “Not what you were looking for though...”

Scanning the shelves, the girl paused and frowned when she stopped a particular spot. 

“Is it out of stock?” she murmured, checking again. “For a textbook no one appreciates until third year, I’d be surprised if it’s sold out...” She turned back to Tadashi with an apologetic smile. “I’ll check if we have the book in stock - give me a second.”

Pulling out her phone, she typed up some information quickly. The results of her searching seemed to yield the same results.

“It looks like we’re actually out of stock for this textbook right now, although, we are restocking it,” she explained. “Would you like to request a reserve to get a copy?”

“That would be helpful, sure,” Tadashi agreed. 

“Great, let’s go fill out a form for you,” she chirped, leading him away. “Are you a med student?”

“No, I’m a robotics engineering student at SFIT,” he replied. “I’m working on something related to the medical field though.”

“Really? That’s so cool,” she exclaimed, looking genuinely interested. “It’s amazing to think how technology can incorporated into health sciences. If you don’t mind me asking, what are you working on?”

“A healthcare robot,” Tadashi explained with a fond smile. “It’s still in the works, nothing has been finished yet, I’m still working on the programming stages.”

“I think that’s incredible. I’m sure you’re capable of amazing things.”

The sincerity in her tone brought a smile to his face. For someone who didn’t know much about his project, the kind words from her were very nice.

“What about you?” Tadashi asked. “Are you a student?”

“Yeah, over at Sato Health Institute,” she responded. Sato was the top post secondary institution for health care in San Fransokyo located nearby - it even shared some programs with SFIT as Tadashi recalled. “I’m a pre-med student - if you hadn’t already guessed.”

“I might have had a feeling,” Tadashi said with a grin. “You seemed like you were familiar with things firsthand.”

The girl laughed. “Lots of firsthand experience, trust me.”

Approaching the help desk, the girl popped around to grab a paper and pen. Scrawling down information onto the page first, she then slid the paper over to Tadashi across the counter.

“Just fill out the rest of the form and the textbook should be arriving in the next three days.” 

Tadashi looked up from filling in the form, brown eyes flicking over to her name tag. “Thank you so much, (Y/N).”

“You’re welcome,” she replied. She took a sip from her coffee tumbler. Grabbing a sticky note, she offered it over to Tadashi. “If you’d like, leave your number and I’ll text you when it arrives - I’ll be working that day. I promise to use your number for professional reasons only.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Tadashi said as he wrote his number down. As he finished his form, he noticed a large medical terms textbook behind the counter on the desk next to the computer with a ton of sticky notes sticking out. “Is that yours?”

“That’s my current bible,” she affirmed with an amused tone. “Can’t survive without it.”

The two of them shared a laugh.

“Thanks again for your help.” Tadashi repeated as he returned the form.

“Just doing my job, don’t worry about it! It was great meeting you...” Her (E/C) eyes flickered down to the form and smile appeared on her face. “...Tadashi.”

As Tadashi left the bookstore, part of him was still lingering behind, thinking about (Y/N). She seemed like a nice girl and he really hoped that they might have another chance to encounter her again.

You fumbled with the door before pushing it open, popping back into the dark apartment. Hitting the light switch, you took off your shoes and checked for signs of your roommates.

Looks like Honey Lemon and GoGo were still out.

No surprise.

The three of you were always busy, whether the other two liked to admit it or not. 

Just as you were sorting things out in the kitchen and about to grab a snack, your phone buzzed.

Mina: OMG. Did you see Terry’s SNS profile update? 🤣🤣

(Y/N): What did he do this time? Do I want to know??

Mina: He put MD CANDIDATE. The AUDACITY of this man - I got a C+ working with partner project with him. My poor GPA... 😭

(Y/N): I mean...

Mina: DON’T

(Y/N): Cs get degrees 😂

Mina: RIP me. Seriously though, are you free to study for that bio test? 

(Y/N): let me grab my snack first, I’ll see you video chat

Mina: True MD candidate here

(Y/N): HA 

Letting out a sigh, you swiped a snack from the cupboard before heading back to your room. Fingers crossed you would get some sleep tonight.

“Oh, finally!”

Tadashi wiped his hands off with a rag and turned to look at Fred. Wasabi and GoGo were also looking at the beanie wearing boy, but neither of them decided to engage.

“Something up?” Tadashi asked, speaking up.

“The comic bookstore said they were out of that new series I was telling you guys about the other day,” Fred explained. “I refused to go to Richardson’s place, so apparently, they reached out to the nearby bookstore and they have a copy! I got to go pick it up.”

“The one near campus?”

“Yup.”

Tadashi paused, thinking for a moment before making his decision. 

“I’ll come with you.”

“Let’s go then, man!”

Catching up with Fred about the current condition of Baymax, the two soon arrived at the bookstore. Fred immediately beelined towards the help desk with Tadashi trailing behind him.

Just as Tadashi anticipated, a familiar face was working at the desk. This time though, (Y/N) was fairly concentrated on the stack of flashcards piled on her space next to textbooks filled with sticky notes.

“Uh, excuse me,” Fred said, practically bouncing on his toes.

That was enough to jolt her out of her studying. Shoving away her flashcards, she offered Fred a smile. “Yes?”

“I believe someone called about -”

“Oh! I know what you’re here for,” (Y/N) said, jumping up. She got up and skimmed over the bookshelf behind the counter. “Ah, here it is. Fred, right?”

At the sight of his new comic, Fred nodded happily. He quickly accepted it from you. “Is there a comic book section?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Just straight that way, it’s not a big collection, but you might find something.”

“Alright, thanks!” 

Fred turned to see Tadashi lingering around. “You coming, Tadashi?”

“There’s something I want to check out, I’ll catch up in a bit,” the black haired male responded.

As Fred disappeared, the girl turned her attention over to Tadashi. 

“I didn’t think I would see you again so soon,” she commented. “The book is not in yet, sorry.”

Tadashi smiled. “That’s fine. I see you’re here often.” 

“Yeah, when I’m not busy with classes or my other job, here I am.”

The words piqued your interest. “Other job?”

“I also work at a pharmacy,” (Y/N) explained.

“Ahh. You must be a busy person,” Tadashi said. He tilted his head towards your desk. “Studying too?”

She flushed. “Yeah. Only because today’s pretty quiet - my manager doesn’t mind as long as I’m work as I’m needed. There’s a test coming up.”

“Good luck, I think you need it.”

“I do. Thank you.”

Tadashi watched as (Y/N) moved back to sitting at the desk. As she picked up her flashcards, she looked up at Tadashi.

“How’s the healthcare robot going? Any progress in the last 24 hours?”

“Baymax finally had some supply come in for assembling,” he responded. “So, just a little bit.”

“Baymax?” she repeated confused. “Oh. Is that their name?”

Tadashi nodded.

“Baymax… I like it, sounds friendly.”

“I should probably let you get back to studying,” Tadashi commented, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“Not at all, I’m happy to chat with you.”

- Wednesday. 6PM. -  

Honey: (Y/N)?

(Y/N): What’s up, Honey Lemon?

Honey: I heard the pre-med students plan on throwing a party this weekend? 

Honey: Are you going?

(Y/N): Nah, I think I have work.

GoGo: You always work.

(Y/N): Huh, I never noticed.

(Y/N): Anyways, parties are not my scene. I’d be happy spending a free evening at home instead.

GoGo: Mina says she’ll miss you.

(Y/N): She’ll have Justin, she’ll be okay

Honey: Well, if you ever decide to go, we know a boy you can take with you.

(Y/N): Thanks, but I’ll pass. 🥰

- Thursday. 5PM. -

Unknown: Hi Tadashi. The textbook you wanted finally came in! Feel free to drop by anytime to come pick it up.

Tadashi: Alright, thanks (Y/N)!

Unknown: Yep, no prob!

Tadashi: Hey, is this your personal number?

Unknown: yeah 😊

(Y/N) has been added to contacts.

Tadashi: Hope you don’t mind if I contact you like in the future. 😊

(Y/N): Oh, I wouldn’t mind at all!

“Tadashi, hi,” you greeted, waving as the boy came into your line of sight. With a baseball cap on his head today, you almost mistaken him for someone else. Pulling out the textbook, you handed it over to him. “Here you go! You weren’t the only one trying to get your hands on this textbook today.”

Tadashi peered at you curiously as he accepted the textbook. 

“You look tired,” he pointed out.

You just shrugged with a half smile. “The bio test was today - that was gruesome.”

“At least that’s done with,” he encouraged you. “Week’s almost over, too.”

“Best part is I’m off in five,” you agreed.

 You could see your words caught Tadashi’s interest. 

“Are... are you still working after?” 

Shaking your head, you leaned back against the counter. “Nope, told them I was busy today so no shifts at the pharmacy tonight.”

“Would you like to go out with me then?” Tadashi asked hopefully. “We can hit up a café and grab something to eat?”

Good thing you were leaning against the counter, because the surprise you felt would have toppled you over.

“Oh, um, sure!” you agreed, cheeks heating up a little. “I’ll meet you outside in five?”

“Sounds good.”

- Friday. 9AM. -

Tadashi: I enjoyed my time with you yesterday. 

(Y/N): I enjoyed my time too! Although the cookies there were kind of hard... 😢

Tadashi: Yeah... I find us somewhere with nice cookies next time.

(Y/N): Just a warning, next time might be a while. My schedule is usually full.

Tadashi: That’s fine!! If you ever find yourself with free time, let me know, I’d like to spend it with you.

(Y/N): 🥰

(Y/N): You’re too sweet, Tadashi. 

(Y/N): How are you single??

Tadashi: Haha, I could ask you the same thing. Probably the same reasons as you though. I’m usually too focused with what’s in front of me.

Tadashi: Hope to see you around though.

(Y/N): me too

- Some Tuesday. 8PM. -

“And your total is 18.95,” you said, pressing buttons on the register to confirm the amount. The customer tapped their card for the purchase before taking their bags. “I hope you feel better!”

“Thank you,” the customer responded as they left. 

You waited until they had gone completely before heading back to find your manager. Spotting one of older pharmacy students, you decided to talk to them instead.

“Hi,” you greeted.

“(Y/N), need any drugs?” Harper asked with a smile.

“I’ll take them all,” you joked. “Let Aria know I left if you see her for me?”

“Yeah, go. You’re free,” she ushered, waving you away.

As you pulled on your jacket and stepped out of the pharmacy, a figure caught you by surprise.

“Tadashi!” you exclaimed. 

“Surprised?” he asked. “Thought I’d walk you home, not safe for you to walk the street alone at night.”

“I do it frequent enough,” you countered with a smile.

“Ooh, risk taker,” Tadashi said.

You laughed. “I appreciate this though, thanks.”

Tadashi nodded. As the two of you were catching up each other on what happened throughout the day, you felt Tadashi slip his hand into yours. Fingers intertwined, you could feel your heart racing.

This was something you didn’t want to let go of.

- Some Monday. 2PM. -

GoGo: Yo, Tadashi

GoGo: Fred wants to know when you’ll be back with the snacks.

Tadashi: Just stepped back on campus. 

GoGo: Took you a while.

GoGo: You seeing someone behind our back?

Tadashi: Ha. Does Baymax count?

- A couple weeks later. Friday. 10AM. -

“Someone looks cute today,” Mina commented as you sat down next to her in the lecture hall. She eyed you up and down, nodding approvingly. “Not working today?”

“Yeah,” you replied. “My rare day off besides class. Thought I’d put a little more effort in today.”

“Well, you look adorable,” Mina confirmed. She let out a sigh when she saw the professor walk in. “Let’s see if we can survive these next two hours.”

“Challenge accepted,” you said, bumping her shoulder playfully. “Although, I might lose you halfway.”

Mina gasped and smacked your arm.

You laughed as you pulled your laptop. Although the two hours went by at a decent pace, you were glad the course was three quarters way through. 

At the brutal pace your professor went, there was nothing but review for the few weeks before final exams. It was nice to know you didn’t have to teach yourself an entire unit in a week before your final.

Bidding Mina goodbye, you weaved your way out of the lecture hall and out into campus. At this point, most groups of students you saw hanging around were study groups. You would have been like them too, if you hadn’t worked so hard to make things work.

Balancing two part time jobs along with classes had you putting in so much extra effort that it usually paid off in the long run.

Yay.

Navigating your way through the streets with the GPS app open on your phone, you soon spotted the campus you were looking for.

SFIT.

(Abbreviated, because thinking through what each letter stood for was too much effort.)

Slowly wandering around as you pulled up the campus directory, your eyes glimmered when you spotted the building you were looking for. Popping inside, you clutched onto your bag, peering around curiously. There was so much science happening in this space. 

Lots of creativity too, you wondered why their tradition was to prank the art school.

Poking around, you soon realized you were lost among the many rooms and labs. Your mission was a failure. Pouting, you pulled your phone.

(Y/N): Help me, I’m lost.

Tadashi: What do you mean?

(Y/N): I wandered into the lab building and was going to surprise you with a visit, but I don’t know where to find you. 🙁

(Y/N): I didn’t think this through...

Tadashi: Awwww

Tadashi: What room number do you see? I’ll find you.

(Y/N): Lab 2B

Tadashi: omw

As you awkwardly waited for Tadashi to show up, you tried not to look suspicious. Although admittedly, you were sure you looked suspicious regardless since you were lost.

“There you are,” the soft yet deep voice greeted from behind you.

Turning around to see Tadashi, you smiled. 

“Sorry for the trouble,” you apologized. 

“Not at all.” Tadashi shook his head. He took a moment to take you in. Within his eyes, you were absolutely beautiful. He didn’t want to mess up, so he kept it to himself. He’d voice his thoughts one day. “Welcome to Nerd Lab, by the way.”

So this was where Tadashi, your roommates, and their friends all spent their long hours working.

Tadashi took your hand. “Come on, I want to show you my lab.”

Following after Tadashi, the two of you entered the elevator behind arriving on the floor of his personal lab space. He opened a door, showing you his tidy space.

“Baymax won’t be in the works for a while, but here,” he pulled out several large blueprints. The image of an almost plush like character was found in the middle. “This is going to be Baymax.”

In awe of all the labelled details and planning in place, you looked up at Tadashi.

“This is incredible,” you breathed out. “You’re incredible too.”

Tadashi dipped his head down and captured your lips for a kiss. 

Before he had the opportunity to pull back too far, you went in and gave him a quick peck as well.

Although the two of you were flushed, the loving gaze you could see in Tadashi’s eyes made you feel hopeful about this relationship.

“Can I see the medical programming?” you asked, breaking the silence.

Tadashi shyly nodded. “All the computer.” 

- Later. -

(Y/N): Do you think we should let our friends know?

Tadashi: Nah, they’ll catch on eventually.

(Y/N): But if they don’t should I just accept their blind date request?

Tadashi: WHAT?

(Y/N): 😂

(Y/N): I asked for more details one time.

(Y/N): He’s this handsome robotics engineering student, who nice and has a good sense of humor. Apparently he’s very dedicated to his work too.

Tadashi: …

Tadashi: They’ve tried to set me up with their friend as well. 

(Y/N): Hmm, maybe we were meant to be after all

Tadashi: I think so. 😀

(Y/N): 😘

[holylulusworld]

Hostile takeover (1)

Title: Hostile takeover

Square Filled for @spnaubingo​: Apocalypse AU

Square Filled for @spnabobingo​: Leather/Anise/Gunpowder

Square Filled for @spnquotebingo​: Quote: (“If I have to choose between one evil and another, then I prefer not to choose at all.” - The Witcher)

Square Filled for @spnmixedbingo​​: Hiding an injury

Square Filled for @j3bingo​​:  Same presentation pairing

Pairing: Alpha!(Endverse) Dean Winchester x Alpha!(fem) Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester, Endverse!Castiel, Rufus Turner

Warnings: angst, language, violence, a hint of blood, a/b/o, a/b/o territorial behaviour, fighting, scenting, mentions of groping, mentions of sex, Dean is a confused alpha, he’s into the reader even though she’s an alpha, mentions of drugs/group sex (no description and it’s Endverse!Cas)

Summary: An alpha wants to take over your pack.

Word Count: 2,3 k

Divider by @firefly-graphics​​

Part 1/?

You don’t know how you ended up in the dirt. Hands and face bloody, body aching and at least three ribs broken.

One day another alpha came into your territory, tried to take over leadership, and decided you must step back. He gave you choice, offered to take over your pack peacefully. 

How very merciful…

Of course, you didn’t agree. Why would you? No one would give up their pack on free terms. You swore to always protect the men, women, and children trusting you with their lives.

At first, you offered to give him resources and asked him, very politely, to fuck off…

As you can imagine, it didn’t go well. He was the kind of alpha making your skin crawl. Cocky, overly self-confident, scent overwhelming.

Three weeks later he came back, the same offer, the same answer. Only this time, he wanted a fight for dominance.

You agreed, telling your pack to stay back and not step in. Fighting was always your last resort, sadly most of the other alphas out there don’t follow your example.

The alpha agreed to your conditions, knowing you will never take him down.

“Listen, you should just give up,” the alpha lands another punch. This time your legs give in, and you drop to your knees.

He’s strong, you give him that. What he lacks in manners he makes up in strength, speed, and endurance. That alpha attacking you is all you’ll never be.

"This is my pack and I need to defend them," you pant, struggling to get back up. Blood runs down your forehead and you know, one more hit, and you are done for. It almost seems like he hates to hurt you.

"A stronger leader," slowly getting back up on unsteady legs you glance at your pack. They already sniff in your opponent's direction, lowering their heads in submission. "Why?" you can't believe your pack doesn't have your back.

"We are sorry, but we are old and weak. Y/N, we need a strong leader, a merciless one," Rufus says and your heart drops. You always believed he would have your back until the end of the line. "You should give up and leave."

"Leave," unclenching your fists you lower your head, nodding silently. "You win. Why fighting for a pack not having my back? Maybe you are the better choice. You defeated me after all," you fight the sobs bubbling up your throat. “Be good to them, please.”

"I don't want you to leave," the alpha holds out his hand to shake yours, "I'm Dean, Dean Winchester and that's my pack. We have a safe place and I'd like your pack to join us."

"Why? You won and I must go. Those are the rules," he steps closer to press a bandana to your bleeding forehead, looking you all over. “What are you doing?”

"This wasn't about winning, alpha," he uses your presentation on purpose, shows you respect. "I want to strengthen my pack and with you by my side, it will get stronger."

"OH—" you can’t fathom why the alpha wants to keep your around. “It’s just, you won. Shouldn’t you celebrate your win? Every other alpha would do so.”

“Well, sweetheart,” he checks on your swollen face, wincing when you flinch away, “I’m not like any other alpha. If you want to, you can stay and help me protect our pack.”

“I took over the lead as they were desperate. No alpha was strong enough to help the pack and their alpha died in yet another fight. Sadly, the alpha killing their leader wasn’t interested in the pack. He only took two young omegas with him and left Rufus and the others.”

“Sonofabitch, that bastard shouldn’t be allowed to call himself an alpha,” you press one hand to your ribs, examining your broken body while the alpha steps closer to you.

You flinch away, try to bring distance between you and your opponent. “You won and I will leave—” voice cracking you look up at the much taller alpha. “Just take good care of my pack.” it’s the least thing you can do for your pack. Leave and beg the new pack leader to shelter them.

“Fine,” he steps into your personal space, looking down at you, eyes shade of dark emerald now. 

“I’ll pack all my belongings and will be gone,” his teeth grit and you shriek when he’s in your face seconds later.

“If you don’t stay on free terms, I will make sure you will not leave. I won, that’s right and this means I can do whatever I want,” you feel his hand grasp for your left arm. He roughly shoves you toward one of the cars, ignoring you whimper in pain. “Get inside my car and be still.”

“Cas, make sure the others pack their shit. You—” jerking his head toward Rufus Dean grins, “wanted her gone so you will pack her shit too.”

“I didn’t want her gone, only to not get herself killed to protect us,” Rufus grumbles, watching you wobble toward the car. “She fought too many battles for us. Y/N deserves better.”

You almost dozed off when the alpha defeating you enters the car, slamming the door shut. “Morning princess,” he smirks when you jolt up in your seat. 

A wave of his scent hits you with full force and you shudder, hating the alpha dominates even your sensitive nose.

“It’s leather and gunpowder, sweetheart,” he looks you up and down, frowning when you move away from him. “At least that’s what the omegas told me.”

“What?” confused you look at the alpha. Not so long ago he tried to kill you, threatened your life and now, he seems to flirt with you. 

“My scent,” he says, starting the engine to let it roar. “The omegas like the mix of leather and gunpowder. Makes them all tingly and wet.”

”I still don’t know what you try to tell me,” you glare at the alpha, squaring your jaw. “You know that I’m an alpha too, right?”

“I know,” he sniffs in your direction, inhales your scent deeply. “Anis and chamomile, and there is lilac too. We should head out; the camp is a little far away from this place. It’s a miracle you made it for so long.”

“We tried to find a new place,” you mutter, glancing out of the window when someone opens the door to the backseat. 

“Everyone is ready, Dean,” a tall guy says, glancing at you in the passenger seat. “We should go. Cas said more Croats are on their way. I think this was last minute.”

“What can I say?” Dean shrugs, looking at you next to him. “Their alpha was a stubborn little princess. She refused to follow my lead and I had to put her in her place.”

“I’m not a princess,” growling at the alpha you ball your hands into fists. “And I didn’t want to follow you as I do not trust you.”

“I gave you choice,” he muses, watching you make a face. “You could’ve stepped down and let me take over your pack without violence. There was no need to get hurt.”

“If I have to choose between one evil and another, then I prefer not to choose at all,” you retort, huffing when Dean shakes his head.

“I hate to break it for you, sweetheart, but you chose,” Dean grins before guiding the car onto the old street you know so well. “Your camp, it wouldn’t have made it for much longer. Believe me, I was your best choice.”

“I didn’t choose you, asshat,” crossing your arms over your chest, hiding the pain shoot through your body when you shift in your seat you snap at Dean. “This was my pack, and I would’ve defended them.”

“Against an army of Croats,” the man in the backseat huffs. “I doubt that.” You don’t like the guy, so you growl at him. “Dean, why did you bring her again?”

“I have—” Dean hits the breaks when a Croat storms toward the car. “Fuck, they are already here. That’s one of their scouts,” he jumps out of the car to shoot the Croat, looking around the area to find out if there are more to come. “Sammy, we gotta go. He won’t be the only one…”

“See, that’s why we had to bring you here,” Dean paces around the cabin he brought you to. “Did you see the Croats? They would’ve overrun you and your pack.”

“Just leave me alone, will ya,” you hiss while running one hand over your bruised ribs. “You are giving me a headache here. Can you not just enjoy you were right and defeated me? Do you need me to stroke your ego?”

“What’s wrong with you?” he steps closer to you, pushing your hand out of his way to check on your ribs. “Fuck, you’ve got at least two—” he moves his hand over your ribs again, shaking his head, “no three broken ribs. Why didn’t you say a thing?”

“Didn’t think you care,” biting your tongue you try to suppress a whimper when Dean lifts your shirt. “Don’t touch me!” you try to slap his hand away but he growls and you submit to him, tilting your head.

“I won’t hurt you, Y/N. You fought like an alpha and took your defeat like one,” he murmurs, carefully running his fingertips over your broken ribs. “I’ll tell Cas to help you bandage your ribs and to check on you for more injuries. Never hide an injury from me again, got it?” he breathes in your face, eyes narrowing. 

“Got it!” Dean makes it hard for you to hate him. After he defeated your sorry ass, he treated you like an equal, and, to your shame, you have to admit he was right. Croats would’ve killed all of your pack. “Where can I sleep?”

“My place,” he grunts, dropping his hand. “I’ll be out and take care of—” he shakes his head in confusion. “I need to release some steam.”

“Okay,” there is a change in the air when Dean storms out of the cabin to slam the door shut. “Odd…”

“I mean, she’s a fucking alpha Sammy,” Dean paces back and front, frantically gesturing toward his cabin, “still I want to rail her like there is no tomorrow. I—I only agreed to that stupid fight to force her to submit to me, but...”

“She’s not an omega?” Sam smirks, watching his brother move closer to his cabin again. “I heard of bonds among alphas, Dean. It’s not uncommon, you know.”

“But—” his head snaps toward his cabin as Castiel leaves his cabin. “Cas, how is Y/N? Did I cause more damage? I mean, is she alright?” 

“I fixed her ribs and taped her eye. She got a bruised ego but should be alright. Just make sure she doesn’t move too much or lifts heavy stuff,” the former angel says, giving Dean a stern look. “If you wanted to impress her, you could’ve chosen a better way, a less painful one.”

“Gosh, don’t give me that new age crap again, Cas,” Dean waves his friend off, grumbling under his breath. “I gotta check on her myself and make sure that stubborn alpha gets the rules.”

“Remember she’s not an omega, Dean,” Sam laughs. “Just saying, don’t give her orders. Y/N is an alpha, a strong one.”

“How do you feel?” he asks, stepping back inside the cabin, looking at you. “Cas said he bandaged your ribs.”

“That pervert tried to feel me up,” glaring at Dean you dare him to try the same. “I guess he forgot to tell you I backhanded him.”

“Cas is,” Dean laughs, shaking his head. “You must know, he was an angel before the world ended. Now he’s into new age and group sex, massages, and half of the time I find him high on something I can’t even spell.”

“That’s no excuse for groping me, alpha,” you step toward Dean to jab your index finger into his chest. “It’s your job to make rules and protect your pack. Good thing I’m not a submissive omega.”

“Wait, he would never—,” Dean swallows thickly. “I will talk to him tomorrow and tell him it’s not okay to touch or grope anyone. 

“You should see your face,” you smirk, holding back a chuckle when Dean tries to find a way to make things up to you. “If you want to be the alpha of our pack you should learn to see through a lie.”

“Sonofabitch, you tricked me. I was close to yell at my friend. That’s not funny and against the rules…”

“Rules #25, this place is mine, but you can have the spare bed if you can behave. There will be no omegas in here or something,” Dean explains whilst you try to keep your eyes open. You lie on the spare bed to shelter your broken ribs. “We have no spare cabin at this moment, so we will share mine.”

“Why can’t I share with one of the women,” lifting your head you frown at Dean’s angry expresssion.

“You will not touch the omegas, Y/N,” he exhales deeply. “No mating our omegas!”

“I’m not into women, asshat,” you retort, “I think I’ll have a closer look at your brother when I feel better. I bet he knows how to handle a female alpha.”

“What? NO WAY!” the alpha growls. “You will not lay hands on my baby brother. If anyone gets his hands on you it’s me!” Dean bites his tongue, stepping backward, shaking his head. 

“What?” you squeak. “Did you just say that?”

Dean runs toward the door, groaning your name. “What are you doing to me?”

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

Find more stories here:

2021 SPN AU BINGO masterlist

2021 SPN A/B/O Bingo masterlist

2021 SPN Quote Bingo masterlist

2021 SPN Mixed BINGO Masterlist

2021 J3 Bingo masterlist

[nebulablakemurphy]

The Red Room

Summary: Meeting Yelena in the red room is the best and worse thing that’s ever happened to you. Warning: romantic Yelena x Fem!reader pairing and depictions of violence.

Those first weeks in the red room pass in a blur. You have one room. Just you. Meals are delivered like clockwork; no one speaks to you. Your only company being the television set that plays the same clips; morning, noon and night.

Until one day the lights flip on brightly above you and a woman enters. You squint up at her, “hello?”

“Hello.” She replies, “are you ready to get out of here?”

“Where will I go?” You wonder.

“Wherever I tell you.”

That is your first encounter with Madame B. When you were younger you thought her something of a savior. You know better now. Still when she calls for you, there’s no choice but to go.

You make your way down the long hall, florescent lights humming above you. Finally reaching the room you’ve been assigned; you grasp the door knob. Feeling the weight of the cool metal against your palm, with a steadying breath you turn it.

Inside is only Madame B and a girl. One you’ve only seen in passing, one of Dreykov’s favorites.

“Y/N, meet Yelena. She will be your partner from now on.” Madame B leads the introduction.

“Did something happened to Oksana?” Your brows pull together, voice small. Afraid to cross an unspoken boundary. She’s always been your partner.

“Oksana is no longer your concern.” The woman bites out. “Shake hands and prepare for your lesson.”

You nod, biting your tongue.

Lesson…

Sparring.

Dancing.

Captive simulations.

What will it be this time?

“Oksana is ok.” Yelena tells you, once the trainer is out of earshot.

“Good,” you whisper, holding your hand out to shake without another word.

“Is that why they kept you locked up so long? You don’t play well with others?” The blonde takes your hand, eyes narrowed into slits.

“I don’t play at all.” You inform her. Pleasing these people is your ticket out of here, and you will get out.

“Everybody plays, whether you want to or not.” Yelena tells you, letting your fingers slip from hers. “Just don’t get in my way.”

——————————————————————-

You don’t get in each other’s way. Somehow having Yelena as a combat partner is a lot less annoying than you anticipated.

Oksana is a better friend, but you aren’t here to make friends. You’re here to kill. Topple regimes from the inside out, Yelena helps you do that.

Your training with Yelena is different. Chipping away parts of you until you fit together seamlessly. From trust falls to synchronized attack plans, you name it you do it. Sometimes until you bleed.

One of your trainers, Ivan, has taken a liking to blind folded direction. Outside of captive simulations it is your least favorite team building activity.

You remind yourself to focus and breathe. In some ways guiding is worse than being guided. “Veer slightly to your right.”

Yelena lifts one bare foot, holding it airborne, allowing you to assess the placement of her next step. “Here?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, as she clears the bit of shattered glass. “That’s perfect.”

———————————————————————

Your first real assignment comes on Monday, June second.

“Come in, Miss American Pie. I have eyes on the target.” Yelena informs you through the ear piece.

“That’s still not my name, over. Stay high, I’m going down.” You reply, deploying your rope and riding it to the ground.

“Five ticks northwest and the package is yours.”

“Copy.” You follow her instruction, ducking away as a bullet shatters the window beside you. “Easy.” You chastise, in a hushed whisper.

“Sorry,” she apologizes half heartedly. The kill was necessary and she had a clean shot.

You spot your target, ready to turn onto the main street from the alleyway. You wrestle him to the ground, he puts up a good fight. Not good enough.

You wipe the blood from your hands before removing the usb drive from his breast coat pocket. “Just admit it,” you taunt, turning to the building Yelena is scoping from, “you’re proud of me.”

“Y/N!” Her tone is not playful at all.

What’s wrong? Before you get a chance to ask the man you’d assumed dead has his knife buried in your thigh.

You crumple to the ground as he prepares to strike again. In the time it takes to unholster your weapon a silent bullet reaches his temple from the sky.

You squint up at Yelena, watching her ride her teether down to the ground beside you. “Thanks.” You pant, inspecting the damage.

“That was sloppy,” she frowns, searching her pack for the midkit, then tearing open a package of gauze. “You always check the body, confirm the kill.”

“I know, I was stupid.” You gasp, feeling Yelena apply an obscene amount of pressure to your wound.

“We need to move to the extraction point, they can deal with you in medical.” Yelena rises, tossing your arm over her shoulder for support.

“It won’t happen again.” You promise, leaning heavily against her side.

“You’re right, it won’t. I have no idea what happens to me if you die.” She grumbles, somewhat bitterly.

———————————————————————

Interactions with Yelena are sparse after that. She doesn’t trust you. Only showing up for your lessons and leaving the moment they’re finished. You understand why she’s angry, you would be too.

According to your weekly rotation, today should be live target practice, however you are directed to a different room.

Once inside your eyes find the chair. You hate that chair. You hate this room. Nothing good ever happens here.

Slowly you move toward Yelena at the far wall.

“A little birdie told me that you’ve been holding back in combat lessons.” Ivan says, tapping a finger to his chin. “Why is that?”

You bite anxiously at the inside of your cheek.

“I said why is that?!”

You notice Yelena flinch from the corner of your eye. “It’s my fault,” you hold up a hand. “I took a hit on our last mission and my partner was being mindful of my injuries.”

“Oh I see.” He smirks, condescendingly. “You don’t want to hurt each other.”

“It would be counter productive to harm my partner.” Yelena points out. The red room drilled that into you.

“That is true.” His eyes dart between you. “But we can’t have you afraid of sparring together. Now can we?”

Your jaw ticks, awaiting the consequence.

“When’s the last time you girls ran a captive simulation?”

“Two weeks ago.” Yelena presents her left index finger to him for inspection. The nail just beginning to grow back.

Ivan hums, “When’s the last time you ran a captive simulation on each other?”

Your heart drops, all the blood running out of your face. Not for months.

“Hmm,” he wets his lips. “Who gets to play the captor first?”

Neither one of you volunteer.

“Belova,” he purrs. “Come choose your tools while Y/L/N straps herself into the chair.”

You don’t hesitate, it’ll be worse if you do. Tuning out his incessant chatter you find your seat. The metal chair sends a chill up your spine. Bending at the waist, you strap each ankle into a leather restraint, then your non dominant hand. Free hand waiting, curled around the arm rest.

Yelena kneels before you, her selections resting at your feet as she closes the final strap around your wrist. Your breath quickens.

“Fifteen minutes on the clock then you’ll switch.” Your spectator announces. “Make them count or we’ll start over.”

On autopilot Yelena reaches for the scalpel.

You don’t mean to scream…but eventually you do. You always do.

———————————————————————

Yelena knows your weaknesses and regularly exploits them to leave you face up on the floor during hand to hand combat sessions.

You used to resent her for it, but it made you strong. Stronger than you’ve ever been or hoped to be. The day you finally best her the room is filled with hushed whispers. Now you are ready.

You learn to move in harmony. The trainers ease up a bit and the other girls line up to watch you like an exhibit. You are two halves of a more perfect whole.

“Madame B, can I ask you something?” You say, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“Of course.” The older woman replies. “What is it?”

“Why was my training so different with Oksana?”

She leans in. “You were not brought here to be a partner to Oksana. She was standing in until we could be sure you were ready for a partner. Nothing more.”

“Was I brought here to be Yelena’s partner?” The question burns at the back of your throat.

“I understand the desire to seek meaning in these things. You hope to find your place in the world.”

You nod.

“But you have no place in the world,” the words cut like a knife. “What you do have is an opportunity to prove that you are not a waste of space, time, or resources. Come, let’s sit for debriefing.”

You wait in silence for Yelena to arrive, finally she does. Taking the seat beside you in the meeting room.

“In two days you will undergo the graduation ceremony, after which you are granted up to three days recovery time before you will be deployed to Moscow.” Madame B reviews the information, handing you each a folder of details.

“Enclosed you will find your identification cards and aliases. I suggest you take this time to familiarize yourselves. Tomorrow we will begin shooting photographs for the past two years of your lives. Report with several changes of clothing. Congratulations on this assignmet. It is a great honor.” Madame B dismisses you.

You open the file. ‘Katherine and Irena Reiner.’

“We’re sisters?” Yelena guesses.

Worse. “We’re married.”

“Even better.” She says under her breath, rising from the chair.

———————————————————————

Life in Moscow is different. Good. The neighbors are easy enough to convince. You play your parts to perfection.

The company you work for being the main focus. They have access to some sort of programming that Dreykov is desperate to get his hands on. You know better than to ask why.

Most mornings you get ready together, discussing the events of the previous day to prepare for the next.

“How come you only speak English?” Yelena wonders, turning off the steady spray of water from her shower and reaching out to grab a towel.

“I have a theory,” you reply, spitting excess toothpaste into the sink. “I think keeping me dependent on translation had more pros than cons.”

“They taught me.” She says, stepping onto the bath mat. “But I guess that’s different.”

You were brought in much older a majority of the other girls.

Your eyes meet in the mirror, seeing each other as if for the first time.

“I could teach you.” She offers, breaking the connection as she turns away.

“Yeah?” You pass the brush through your hair.

Yelena shrugs, “I have nothing better to do.”

“Just don’t teach me the wrong words to make me look stupid.” You arch a brow.

“It would be counter productive to harm my partner.”

Hours turn into days. Days into weeks and suddenly you stand on a blurred line. How much is she pretending? How much are you?

The two of you rest on opposite ends of the couch. Enjoying another round of prime time television.

“Yesterday I was talking to that girl in accounting.” Yelena pulls your attention from the picture.

“The blonde one?” You ask, tossing a piece of popcorn at her.

She attempts to catch it in her mouth. Having had more than a few drinks her coordination is lacking.

You smirk, when it falls into her lap.

“No Maggie.” She corrects you, finding the wayward piece and biting into it.

“Mmm.” You hum.

“Mmm? What do you mean, ‘mmm?’” Yelena’s brows pull together.

“Nothing,” you insist. “I was just acknowledging what you said.”

“You didn’t sound very happy about it. Did she do something to you?” Yelena demands, straightening her posture.

“No, she didn’t do anything. Anyway tell me what happened.”

“She’s worked there for a long time. I think she knows more than she says she does.”

“So are you gonna talk to her again? See if she’ll open up?” Yelena has that effect on people.

“I am married.” She rolls her eyes, flipping her left ring finger in place of the middle.

“Shut up.” You chuckle.

“I’m crazy about you, know you. Ever since we met in high school. You didn’t like me at first but you came around.” Yelena elaborates.

“I don’t remember seeing all that in our cover story.” You cock your head to the side.

“That was a shit story, I’m rewriting it.” She waves a hand.

“Tell me more.” Tell me everything.

———————————————————————

“Did you get milk?” You shout, peeking into the nearest paper bag.

“Was it on the list?” Yelena hollers back, from the front door, kicking it shut. Her arms full of groceries.

“I don’t remember,” you say, unpacking the head of lettuce and eggs.

“You made the list.” She scoffs, setting the rest of the haul on the floor.

A knock pulls your attention away from the food.

“Who is it?” You wonder.

“It’s me, George. From next door.” Your neighbor answers.

Yelena rolls her eyes, waving you out of the kitchen. It’s your turn to make small talk.

You step carefully around the produce to the main entrance. “Hey George.” You smile, swinging open the door, “what’s up?”

“Katherine!” He greets you. “Could I borrow Irena for a minute?”

“Is that lawnmower giving you trouble again?” You guess, leaning against the door frame.

“It’s running great actually. There’s something else I’m curious about though.”

“I can send her over after dinner.” You attempt to dismiss him.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” George moves his foot to prevent the door from closing, producing a pistol from his waistband.

“George!” Yelena waves, clearly oblivious.

“Irena,” he looks down at the gun, pointed at your chest, “we have much to discuss.”

“Clearly.” Yelena agrees, coming to join you on the threshold. “Are you going to tell me why you have my wife at gunpoint?”

“We should take this inside.”

“I’m good here.”

He presses the barrel against your skin through the fabric of your shirt. “You sure about that?”

“On second thought, I could go for a drink. Do you like scotch?” Yelena takes a step back, leaving room for him to enter the house.

“Who sent you?” George demands, guiding you into the kitchen.

“We also have brandy.” She says, expression unreadable.

“Who are you working for?” He asks a second time, adjusting his grip on the gun. “First one goes in her leg.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Yelena drawls. “But I’m going to warn you, if you hurt her, you die.”

“You have three seconds to give me a better answer,” the nuzzle of the gun sits flush against you upper thigh. “One, two-“

Yelena lunges, the gun firing into the floor when he’s knocked off balance.

George tosses her off as if she weighs nothing. You rush him, knocking the fire arm to the other side of the room. Your arms locked around his neck, flush to his back. He rams you back first into the china cabinet.

You fall away with a grunt.

“Now,” the man rights himself. Wiping away the blood from his split bottom lip with the back of his hand. “We’re going to have fun.”

Taking a fist full of your hair he begins pulling you toward the center of the room. You grab for a large shard of glass, slicing it over the back of this knee. He releases you, doubling over.

“I warned you.” Yelena snarls, stabbing her knife into his belly, making a straight line up to his sternum. “You thought you could use her to break me? They used to make me torture her! They used to make me-“ she breaks off, withdrawing her knife. Only to ram it in again and again.

George, if that was his real name, is long dead. A crimson puddle blooming on the floor. It doesn’t stop Yelena, hot, angry tears rolling past her cheeks.

“Yelena.” You say softly.

“They used to make me do it.” She repeats, the weight of the words crushing down on her.

Your arms envelope her from behind.

“No.” She sobs when she feels you there, holding exactly where it hurts.

“It’s ok.” You whisper against her ear.

The blood stained blade clatters to the ground. Her breathing ragged as both her hands find yours, squeezing tightly. Don’t let go.

“It’s ok.”

“No it’s not.” She cries, frantically shaking her head.

“I did it too.” As if she needs reminding. “They made me do it too.”

She allows you to stay curled around her, desperately trying to absorb some of that pain.

———————————————————————

Yelena’s drug of choice is alcohol, the spirits burn their way into her blood stream. Erasing all that she’s done.

“You want a glass?” She offers, setting the bottle of clear liquor down on the coffee table.

“No thanks.” You shake your head, hair still damp from the shower.

“Don’t be a hero,” she rolls her eyes as she takes a seat. The water had washed away any trace of George.

“Fine,” you take a long swig from the bottle in question.

“You’ll thank me later.” She tosses back a shot, sliding the strap of your pajama top down to assess the damage to your left shoulder. “It’s deep, going to need stitches. This is why we don’t go through china cabinets.” Yelena chastises, moving for the first aid kit.

“Yeah, not my finest moment.” You peek at her. “But it worked.”

“Mmm,” she hums, returning to her spot. Flipping open the white box and removing what she needs to stitch you up.

First she hits you with the antiseptic “сука!” Bitch.

“See,” you can hear the smile in her voice, “you are learning.”

You let out a pained laugh, “I guess I am. We need to call someone to clean this up.”

“Here,” she hands you her phone, blowing gently over you wound. “You take care of that, I take care of you.”

Your heart clenches at her words. But Yelena is your partner. That is all.

“Belova, do you have a status update?” A familiar voice answers after the first ring.

“Yeah, we need a cleanup.” You say matter of factly.

“Agent Y/L/N.” He greets you. “How many?”

“One.”

“For now,” The man remarks.

“You didn’t tell us we weren’t alone in this pursuit.” You purse your lips.

“There’s a reason we sent the best. I’ll put in for a clean up crew in the morning.”

“Let them know the body is in the bathtub.”

The goes dead.

The conversation distracts you well enough from the dull ache of the needle poking and pulling at your shoulder.

Carefully Yelena bandages the abused skin. Her finger tips running along the back of your arm.

“Thank you.” You whisper, relaxing into her touch.

Her lips ghost over your skin. “You’re welcome.”

Oh.

Slowly you turn, as if not to startle her. Yelena’s eyes find yours.

You move closer, tracing the line of her jaw. “Thank you,” you repeat.

She nods, still unsure.

“Of all the people I could’ve been stuck here with…I’m glad it was you.”

“You don’t have to say that.” She pulls your hand away gently.

“You’re right. I don’t have to say anything.“ You murmur, “But I want to… and it would be counter productive to harm my partner.”

“We can’t.” She knows it. You know it. “It will get in the way. They’ll kill us.”

“No.” You chuckle bitterly. “They’ll make us kill each other.”

“I wouldn’t do it,” Yelena insists.

“You won’t have a choice.” You point out. “Didn’t you hear about that stuff they started pumping into people?”

“Mind control.” Yelena replies in Russian.

“It’s only a matter of time.”

“Maybe we get out.”

“Maybe,” you smile sadly, “maybe we find each other.” In another life.

———————————————————————

Three days later Yelena comes home late. During your day off you were tasked with the more mundane tasks of running a household, but you suppose there are worse things. She finds you in the laundry room, drink already in hand. Her mouth set in a frown.

“What’s wrong?” You drop the piece of clothing back into the basket.

“I have it.” Yelena confesses.

You press your lips together, you knew this was coming. That information is the only reason you are here. “Did you contact them?”

“Not yet.”

“Are you going to?”

“You say that like I have a choice.” She stares down at her drink.

“I just meant-“

“I know what you meant.” Yelena knows you, better than anyone. The red room saw to that. “Do you want to stay one more night?”

“Do you?” You wonder.

“When I was a little girl…I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye.”

“In the morning,” you offer. Any longer and the risk will be too great. “We’ll go in the morning.”

She nods, taking in the room around her. “I wanted it to be real.”

“It was.” You choke down the lump in your throat.

———————————————————————

Your return to the red room is swift. No pat on the back or celebration to be had. Just two pawns, returning to their places on the board.

You’re separated from Yelena. Because your loyalties are to each other and that poses a threat. But what did they expect? They made you this way.

You are alone. Perhaps the most alone you’ve ever been. Or maybe you’d just forgotten that you could feel things. You remember now and wish you didn’t.

Like it or not she changed you. Knowing her had changed you, for better or for worse. After Yelena you were never the same.

Word of Oksana’s escape only fuels the need to chemically alter the minds of all agents. Beginning in order of importance.

Finding Yelena seated on the bench outside the physician’s office steals the breath from your lungs. To see her now is blatantly cruel and calculated.

Still you sit in the empty space beside her.

“Do you know where your orders are?” She asks.

“Yeah,” you nod, “Budapest. You?”

“Back to Moscow.” Yelena informs you.

You swallow hard, your pinkies skating past each other.

“Agent Y/L/N,” the doctor opens his door. You watch as another widow exits, she doesn’t look any different. Maybe the mind control drugs aren’t affective.

You steal one last glance at Yelena. Her eyes are desperate, ‘don’t go.’ Both of you knowing you can’t stay.

“Enjoy Moscow.” You whisper, moving reluctantly to your feet.

She tears her gaze away, unable to watch you leave. “I hear Budapest is beautiful.”

You hope so.

Wanna know what happens next? Check out chapter one of Miss American Pie! 💜

Yelena Belova Taglist: @captainwonderwidow

[mca-attack21]

Damsel in Distress part I

This is a two part Arthur Pendragon x Reader based on the season two episode four of the show. Enjoy! Also you can find more of my writing here: Masterlist

Merlin woke up to a feeling of foreboding. There was something in the air that made his stomach turn with dread. As he prepared to go wake his clotpole of a master, he tried to push this feeling out of the forefront of his mind. But even as he made it down to the kitchen there was this sense of apprehension in the air. He hoped that he would run into you somewhere in the halls and that you would be able to set his mind at ease. He however was not so fortunate.

Instead, he trudged onward, setting Arthur’s food down and opening his curtains before declaring a half-hearted, “Rise and Shine” before quickly gathering some of his clothes to be washed. Arthur didn’t even have time to come up with a jest before Merlin was out of the door. Merlin busied himself, quickly polishing Arthur’s armor and completing other daily chores. He mentally prepared himself to deal with the prince as returned to his door.

“Ah, there you are, I was beginning to think you were avoiding your duties. And what’s this?” he asked, watching as Merlin laid everything out, “You’re actually doing your job for once? Are you feeling alright?” Arthur joked.

His smile soon turned to a frown as Merlin ignored his comments. He shrugged it off and allowed Merlin to help him dress and put on his armor. While Arthur was looking over some papers on his table he noticed that Merlin had already made his bed and was starting to take the dishes from the table.

“Merlin, clearly something is upsetting you,” Arthur pointed out.

“It’s nothing sire, do you need anything else?” Merlin asked with his back against the door.

“No, that will be all,” Arthur dismissed, sending a concerned glance towards his friend as he exited.

Merlin took leave and went back to his chambers to help Gaius. He tried to occupy his mind, but nothing he did seemed to ease that burning pit in his stomach. Something had happened, was happening, or was about to happen, he could feel it.

Somewhat abruptly, he decided that he needed to see you. He went to seek out Morgana, as you were filling in for Gwen while she was taking care of her brother. He knew that wherever Morgana was, you wouldn’t be far away.

It was in his search that he saw a few of the knights rushing for an audience with the king. Something had happened. Merlin followed at a close distance and listened in.

“As you know Sire Morgana, her maid, and a few knights rode for a pilgrimage to her father’s grave early this morning. They were meant to be back by now, but there is no word or sign of them. That was until one of the patrols came across one of the knight’s horses. I am afraid something went wrong..”

“Send men out immediately. Arthur, you will lead the search, do whatever you must to bring her home,” the King ordered concerned for his young ward.

“Of course father,” Arthur answered before hastily making an exit. Merlin was right on his heels, and left to prepare their horses.

---

The mercenaries had both you and Morgana in a tent with a guard posted right outside the doors. The two of you had come up with a plan, it was risky at best. However you were both aware of the fact that the further away from Camelot you traveled, the less likely you were to ever see it again.

“Are you ready for this?” Morgana asked, preparing herself.

“As ready as I’ll ever be”

She was about to step forward when you grabbed her arm, “No matter what happens, I want you to take any opportunity you get. Don’t worry about me. Promise.”

“There is no way I’m leaving without you.”

“Morgana, you have to promise me. I cannot bear the risk otherwise.”

“I promise, but only as long as you promise me the same. We take any opportunity we get.”

With that, the plan was in motion. Morgana demanded that she be allowed to bathe and you both were escorted to the river by two of the men. You took the distraction of her undressing to manage to disarm one of the men and tossed Morgana the sword just in time for her to take out the other. The two of you started running back towards the castle, but there was another mercenary that intercepted you. Being as you were the one with the sword you opted to fight him, thankful for the many hours you had spent training with Arthur when you were younger. Morgana turned back to help you.

“Go, I will be right behind you!” you shouted, watching her hesitate, “Morgana go! Now!”

She turned and ran only looking back when she heard your scream in the distance. She quickly picked up her pace again and ran without looking back. She pushed through the aching in her muscles until she was faced with a crossbow aimed at her face. Relief filling her features as soon as she saw its holder.

“Where’s Y/n?” Arthur asked immediately.

Morgana merely shook her head and Arthur turned before his face could give him away. Merlin pushed down his own feelings and went to Morgana to make sure she was okay and offer her water and food. They set off immediately for the castle and soon came the reunion between Uther and Morgana. She begged him to send out another search party for you, after all you had saved her life.

“I am not going to waste the time and resources on a servant girl who has most likely already been executed as she provides no worth to the mercenaries without you,” he explained to Morgana. The words cut Arthur deeper than any sword ever had.

“Please, there is still a chance. Arthur?” she turned towards him hoping he would take her side.

“I’m sorry Morgana, father is right” Arthur managed before turning and exiting a very angry Merlin on his heels.

“How could you say that? How could you possibly agree with him after everything that you and Y/n have been through? I knew you were a clotpole, but this, this is unforgivable!” Merlin all but shouted.

“Merlin Shut Up!” Arthur raised his volume before regaining his composure as he entered his chambers, “Of course I don’t agree with father, but there was no point in making a scene about it. We will pack and leave at first light. We will find her, one way or another.”

Merlin was speechless for a moment, before uttering an apology for overreacting before. He was then quick to leave and make the preparations for the next day as it was already early night.

The next morning he was surprised to see that Arthur had managed to not only wake himself up, but dress himself. He was looking over maps as Merlin entered. Soon the two of them were off on their quest to save the damsel in distress. The rode for the better part of the day before coming to a caves that were inhabited by wilddeoren. As they made it through the other side Arthur let out a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding, “I can’t believe the Gaia berries actually worked.”

“Hold up, you mean to tell me that you didn’t know that they would work before you lead us in a cave with giant flesh eating rats!”

“I mean not for sure, I heard stories, but I figured we’d find out one way or another.”

“Now you tell me?! Oh! Oh, what's that wilddeoren eating? It's all right. It's just Merlin. You trying to get us both killed?”

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't've risked your life like that,” Arthur said a new hint of seriousness in his voice.

“I didn’t realize that even the great Arthur Pendragon could fall victim to the blindness of love,” Merlin joked.

“What in the world are you going on about?

“Your feelings for Y/n. Why can’t you admit that you like her? I mean you are risking your life and even your father’s wrath just for a one in a hundred chance of rescuing her.

Arthur scoffed rolling his eyes, “She is just a friend, I’d do the same for you. In fact I seem to remember disobeying my father before in order to get you an antidote when you decided to get a few days off my drinking out of a poisoned chalice.”

“That was different and you know it. Besides, anyone who has ever seen the two of you together can pick up on it. Why is it so hard to admit you like her? It’s only me, just say it,” Merlin encouraged.

“I can't! How can I admit that I think about her all the time. Or that...I care about her more than anyone. How can I admit that...I don't know what I'll do if any harm comes to her?” Arthur confessed struggling to keep his emotion in check.

“Why can't you?”

“Because nothing can ever happen between us! To admit my feelings knowing that...hurts too much.”

“Who's to say nothing can happen?”

“My father won't let me rescue a servant. Do you honestly believe he'd let me marry one?”

“You want to marry Y/n?”

“No! I mean maybe someday...I...I don't know...Regardless, it's all talk, and that's all it can ever be.”

“When you're King, you can change that. If she feels the same way, she would wait for you.”

“I can't expect her to do that, it’s not fair to her. Besides, we don’t even know if she’s alive,” he said regretting the words even as they left his mouth because they caused his stomach to drop.

“I’m sure she’s fine Arthur. She knows that you’ll come for her and that hope will keep her alive.”

The words seemed to offer Arthur some comfort, “Come on. We've got a long trek ahead. Oh, and Merlin...if you dare tell anyone about this, I promise I will make your life a living hell.”

“You mean more than you do now?” Merlin joked, earning a playful smack from his friend.

[mandoinevarro]

WILL BUY STOLEN GOODS FOR LOWER PRICE

Rule Maker, Rule Breaker: Chapter 1

Words: 8.4k 

Rating: E

Warnings: shooting, non-descriptive death, SMUT, fingering, mentions of masturbation, AND masturbation now that I remember, penetration, creampie! just general filth, gambling?

a/n: SO literally nobody asked for this, but I decided to turn NO REFUNDS into the prologue of a short series (you don’t really need to read NO REFUNDS, it’s only for context.) Anywayyys heavy feelings, heavy plot, heavy smut. Have fun. 

……………

Maker, you need to start cheating. That way you wouldn’t be in the middle of a staring contest with your cards, like you can change their colorful drawings and numbers if you only glare hard enough. You’ve never been particularly good at sabacc, but a little luck wouldn’t hurt, especially since this is the third round in a row you lose.  Duma deals the last couple of cards across the coal black table and stacks the deck, signaling the start of the game.

Well, you suppose it doesn’t really matter; you doubt your sabacc buddies have better hands. These days, everyone in Nevarro is short on luck. Luck and food and water. Others are less pessimistic: As soon as Greef Karga glances at his hand he leans back on the carcass of a cantina booth and slaps his belly. “Ha!” he bellows, “by the end of this round, you filthy gutter womp rats will have to borrow from your womp rat mothers to pay me.”

“Quit bluffing, Karga. We know you don’t have shit,” Cara mutters. She picks up her cards and pulls a face like she bit on lemon, but still the veteran goes all in, pushes forward a couple of stabilizing coils, an identity beacon you could’ve sold at a decent price some months ago and—maker—even a pouch of nova crystal dust. Nobody here is stupid enough to gamble with food, but you’re surprised that even nova has lost its worth and been demoted to casino chip status. “This place smells like shit.”

“Bad bluff, piss-poor trash talk too,” you taunt. “Looks like all that time doing business with Imperials smoothed your brain, Karga.”

“Ex-Imperials,” he corrects. The ex-Guild leader slides a few more credits to the center of his ex-cantina’s table. “We live in a jolly Republic now, didn’t you hear? You’ve been liberated.”

“Fuck ‘em.” Duma turns her head, spits on the melted floor. “Can’t eat liberation, can I?” She throws a few more worthless credits onto the growing pile of nothing. At least, for now, it’s nothing. Credits and ship parts and every other type of currency haven’t meant anything but props in Nevarro for five months, when the siege began. That whole mess with troopers and Greef and Cara was bound to bring some repercussions—aside from making Karga’s cantina look like a volcano erupted inside. For five months, Imperial forces have surrounded the planet, and for five months, food and resources haven’t been allowed inside. They won’t let up, rumor has it, until they find the culprit: one particular Mandalorian with a valuable asset. They think he’s still hiding somewhere in the planet, but you know better. You watched the Razor Crest’s fly off-orbit and leave everything behind. Everything and everyone.

“This place smells like shit,” Cara repeats.

“Not shit,” replies Duma, “ash.” She picks up a card from the deck with long fingers. “You never did explain how that Mandalorian managed to torch this place.”

Cara’s sabacc face melts. Her fingers tighten and bend her cards as she exchanges a complicit look with Greef. “Never said it was Mando.”

“Who else? I was there in the first shootout. That hunter was fierce.” Duma dons a wolfish smile, because this is how she always wins: She plays with people, not cards. In fact, she abandons her hand face-down on the table and—oh no—gives you a once-over. “You knew him well, didn’t you?” You almost want to show her your garbage hand so she doesn’t bother trying to throw you off your inexistent game.

“Swung by the store a couple of times,” you answer as casually as you can manage and pretend the most interesting book is written on your cards. “But we weren’t exactly chummy, if that’s what you’re asking.” Creeping warmth attacks your face and there’s no stopping it. Shit.

“Funny, could swear I saw him leaving your store more than a couple of times.” You feel Duma’s eyes piercing into your forehead. “Pretty late at night, too.”

“Is that so?” Cara pipes with a lopsided grin.

“I thought you two were…friends,” Duma adds.

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, “you thought wrong.” Friends don’t leave friends to their luck in the middle of a fucking siege. It’s the same prickly thought that’s plagued you since you watched the Mandalorian take off triumphantly. It’s a stupid feeling. He was under no obligation to take you with him. You didn’t lie to Duma, you two weren’t friends. You couldn’t even call what you had a fling, even those require some degree of making-love-below-the-stars, quoting-passages-of-Naboo-Nights-to-each-other romance. Flings are shooting stars. No, your…thing, whatever it was, did not belong to the heavens. It was earthy. Human. It was counting credits and arguing about fuel prices or old modulators. It had weight—too much, apparently, to escape gravitational pull and fly away with him on the Crest. It was doomed to planets, both feet planted on the ground.  

Still, you remember times when earthy was good. There was never anything airy or celestial in the way he’d take you. The shoved clothes, the harsh grunts, the rough hands, the pleasure, it was all palpable and primitive; earthy was dirty. Your furtive encounters had beating heart of their own, and there was always hard evidence left behind in case either of you ever needed a reminder: marks on the skin, ripped clothes, stained bedsheets. The bruises he left always took too long to heal, as if his touch enhanced your mortality, made you more human. Stars, those moments are what you miss the most. Five months is a long time to be neglected of touch—six, actually: five months since the siege, six since he last came to you. Earthy expires.

It’s not like there’s nobody in the planet willing to help you soothe your needs; quite the opposite, actually. Lately, it seems like handjobs are the new Nevarran handshake. Just last week you caught Cara feeling up some pretty market girl in an alley. You saw her, she saw you, you rolled your eyes, she grinned and got back to work. You were almost offended. Everybody’s screwing their time through the siege, while you’re left with nothing but reruns of filthy memories with the Mandalorian. You just know nobody but Mando will do. You replay your moments with him like a sad, mental porno on the nights you spend trying to get yourself off. Trying and failing, like having to put out a fire by spitting on it, because the only person in the galaxy with a hose is too busy playing hero lightyears away.

“Last round. Place your bets,” Karga announces and pushes a few more trinkets forward. Cara follows, and you pat around your pockets for something to lose. It’s all just rusted metal anyways. Only…shit, the last three games drained you. And Duma reads it on your face like you’ve got “BROKE” written all over your forehead.

“All out, huh?” She reaches down the table for her bag and drops a beskar pauldron on the table with a thud. A Mandalorian pauldron.

Cara purses her lips and balls a fist, but Greef shoots her a warning look. As if cantina brawls could make this place look worse.

“Still can’t believe you didn’t take anything that day,” Duma continues, shaking her head. “Regret it?”

“I’ll regret it,” you answer and go fish, as if a new card—the right card—could fix a life’s worth of bad luck, “when you learn how to chew beskar.” That earns you a signature “Ha!” from Karga and a cocked eyebrow from Duma. She can arch her eyebrows all she wants, but that much is also true. You don’t regret leaving the Mandalorian covert empty-handed.

You were the first on scene that day. After the smoke cleared, the remaining imps left to lick their wounds, and the Crest flew away, you went to check on Karga’s child, his pride and joy. You were met with a gruesome scene. The cantina, Nevarro’s most sacred landmark, had been reduced to its black skeleton, third-degree burns all over, gone. It sounds dramatic, but the cantina used to be the closest thing to a place of worship on this planet. God Booze was dead.

You kicked around the bar’s guts, until you found a gaping mouth on a wall, leading down, down, down into Nevarro’s entrails. Finding purgatory would’ve surprised you less than what you stumbled upon: an underground tunnel, an abandoned covert, and a sinister, unguarded pile of Mandalorian armor. Stars, it would’ve been so easy. You could’ve hoarded the spoils and stashed them away for better days. That amount of beskar could’ve bought you a one-way ticket out of this dumpster and an early retirement. But when you lifted a helmet, it stared back. It was blue and definitely not his, but Mando was all you could think of while you studied the helmet’s unique curves and creases. You heard his exasperated sighs when you got on his nerves, his moans when you’d touch him. And you just couldn’t do it. You sat back and watched as this skughole’s scavengers crept into the tunnels to pillage. Easy as that, everyone in Nevarro but you and Cara now has a beskar toy or two. Soon enough, this planet will house the wealthiest corpses in the galaxy if the siege is not lifted before reserves run out.

Karga clears his throat. “Well, ladies first. Let’s see those cards.”  

Duma ignores him. “You know,” she tells you, “I’ve more beskar than I know what to do with. I’ll trade you a vembrance for a couple of ration packs.”

“And what am I supposed to do with a Mandalorian vembrance, play dress up?”

“The cards,” Greef urges.

“You’ll be rich.”

You snort. “The rich don’t starve.”  

“Give me a break, we both know you’ve got portions to spare.”

Elbows on the table, you lean forward and closer to Duma. She sniffs weakness like a Corellian hound, and if you falter she’ll sink her fangs. “I’m not interested in your fucking loot.”

“Cause it’s stolen? You never had a problem with that before.” She mimics your move and leans closer. Karga fiddles with a coinage of calamari flan, like you’re both Canto Bight slot machines and he’s trying to decide where to put his money. “What, did you grow morals all of a sudden? Or maybe, you’re too worried of what your Mandalorian friend would think.” You flinch. She smirks. “Oh my, what would the disgraced hunter, code-breaker, cult member say—”

The tiny noise of Karga’s coinage clinking on the table is not enough to distract you from the verbal beating Duma is laying on you. But his voice—like he got the air knocked out of him—is enough to grab your attention when he murmurs, “Ask him yourself.”

Cara, Duma, and you turn to Greef Karga, who stares saucer-eyed at the window. All three of your heads move simultaneously, guided by the line of his eyesight. Outside the window, on the deserted street, stands a trooper barking orders. It’s one of those in all-black armor, the extra trigger-happy ones with a side of god complex because they think the change of color magically makes their aim less shitty. His blaster is drawn (surprise, surprise), and on the receiving end of its barrel…

Maker’s fucking mercy.

You don’t even see the blaster shot, only smoke snaking out of a hole on the shiny breastplate. The trooper plummets to the ground like his puppeteer cut off his strings: no last steps, no resistance. Now, anyone else would’ve walked away from what’s clearly worm food without a second look, but one does not become the best bounty hunter in the parsec by taking chances. A mountain of unpainted beskar looms over the corpse and kicks the blaster off the imp’s limp hand. The Mandalorian sheathes his own weapon—that blaster you’ve tweaked and polished so many times you know it as the palm of your hand—and scans the perimeter for danger.

You don’t tell your legs to move, but they don’t need the command. You find yourself trailing behind Cara, Duma, and Greef, rushing for the door. Outside, all four of you stumble and stop on your tracks to blink stupidly at the Mandalorian, the way children stare wide-eyed at soldiers on military parades. But this warrior stands grander than any Republic or Imperial officer you’ve ever seen. He’s clad head to toe in silver beskar—except for one armorless thigh that makes his other leg look even bulkier. His old armor, the one you used to shine and buff, is gone. This one you’ve only seen from afar, on that day he crashed the imps’ safehouse, and later when the battle broke out. You know it’s him, but in this new getup it’s easy to doubt. Maybe he’s a stranger. Maybe he won’t recognize you.

The Mandalorian studies each of you one by one, his hand near the blaster in case he spots any enemy faces. The hand twitches when he sees Duma—she doesn’t have the cleanest reputation around here—but she’s shocked and unarmed, so his arm relaxes. To Greef and Cara he gives short nods that they return.

And then you. He actually takes a step back when he spots you, like you pushed him square on the chest. The helmet lingers on you and tilts, shamelessly rakes over every feature like he’s memorizing you. You hold your breath. It reminds you of the day you met, that weight on your chest from knowing you’ve been seen. That’s how you know it really is Mando: Whenever he stares at you, you feel it in your bones.

You realize the moment’s dragged out for too long when Karga clears his throat. The spell breaks.

You and Mando look bashfully away from each other. You squint up at the clouds, your hands stiff on your waist in a forced, generic, looks like rain! pose. He turns to his boss (ex-boss? enemy? You never asked for an update on Mando’s most recent status in the Guild) and mutters a short, “Karga.” To Cara he’s warmer, offers a comradely clasp of hands and a pat on the shoulder. “Good to see you again.”

“You too,” Cara drawls, as she stares suspiciously between you and Mando. You squint harder at the clouds. “Didn’t expect you back during a siege, though.”

“I have to…” he spies a furtive glance at Duma and lowers his voice, “I’ve something to do here.”

Duma rolls her eyes and clasps her bag across her chest. “Don’t worry, Mando. I’ll leave you girls to catch up on the hot goss.” She strides into the cantina (probably to bag the bets, the asshole), and goes back outside.

She points at the window of a crumbling building. “Careful with snitches.”

You glance back to the window. Nothing. Jerk. Duma’s not above a made you look moment, apparently. You turn back to her but she’s already disappearing into an alley.

Cara waits until she’s gone to grab the Mandalorian by the arm. “Mando, where’s the…” she glances at you and hesitates. You fold your arms and raise your eyebrows at the veteran. If she expects you to leave graciously like Duma she’s got another thing coming. You’re actually very, very interested on the Mandalorian’s hot goss. Especially it comes with an explanation as to why he left you stranded here. Even though he doesn’t owe you one. Technically. “Y’know,” she finally says and drops her hand. “The asset.”

“On the ship. I need to get back.”

“You, my friend, need to lay low,” Greef says with a raised index. “Every imp in Nevarro will be looking for you. Maker—” he spreads his arms “—they already are! And someone must have heard the blaster shot. You have ten minutes or so until an Imperial squadron gets here. The, uh, asset will be fine.”

“The asset,” Cara exclaims, “is a ch—is…is delicate. He can’t just leave it on the Crest!”

Mando interrupts their game of taboo. “Cara,” he starts, “you go to the ship and check on…the asset. Please. I landed where I did last time. I…I’ll lay low in the covert.”

“About that,” Greef mumbles. He looks at Cara for support, but she steps back and raises both hands: You say it. Greef sighs. “They…they found the tunnels, Mando.”

The helmet crooks slowly to study Karga.  “Who’s they?”  

“Everyone. Half of Nevarro is living down there, you…you can’t go back.”

Silence.

You imagine all four of you go through the same checklist: Even if Cara didn’t already have a top-secret assignment with whatever the asset is, she doesn’t have a place of her own yet. Every week, she crashes on one of her sweethearts’ couches. On their beds, more likely. There’s no way Karga is letting him near his house, not after what happened at the cantina. That leaves…

“Stay with me,” you blurt before you can really think it through.

≈

The cramped storage room you call a home sits a story above your store. It’s four walls and only the essentials: a bed, an armchair, a table, a stove, and the only detached room is the refresher. It’s enough for you. But the Mandalorian looks like he squeezed into a dollhouse when you usher him inside and close the door behind you. He stands in the middle of the room, all fighter’s bulk and grandiose armor, like he’s afraid he’ll break something if he moves. As if he’s never been here before, which couldn’t be further from the truth. The apartment may be small, but it’s so filled with memories you could turn it into a museum of your dirty escapades with him. And if you look to your right, you’ll see the armchair where he sat while I went down on him on a stormy night.  

“So,” you say and lean against the front door, “business or pleasure?”

He moves to stand to the side of the window opposite the front door and his glove moves the old washed out curtain to the side to peer into the street. The sun is setting, and the last streaks of light paint the beskar with warped yellow-orange streaks that stay as still as an undisturbed pond. So this is how he wants the evening to go: quietly and with a reasonable amount of distance between you. Disappointment knots in your stomach.

“Business.”  

You open your mouth to cut into the silence, but you’re all out of words. Maybe you’ve lost your touch. It used to be so easy to tease him, but now…a heaviness seems to weigh down on his shoulders, some heightened sense of duty. But also determination: He stands taller now, prouder, like he woke up one day and knew exactly what he needed to do and why. Whatever that purpose is, you’re pretty sure it doesn’t involve you. You’re a detour, and not even the fun kind, judging by the space between you. Maker, this man used to pounce on you. Has the siege really battered you up that much?

“Been busy?” The sudden question startles you. He’s never been one to break the ice, that was usually your job.  

“Sure.” Nope, not at all. “Store and all.” You closed the store three months ago. Turns out nobody buys equipment for their ships when they can’t fly past the atmosphere. “Plus, somebody needs to keep Karga distracted from his mourning. You owe him a cantina.”

“He told I did that?”

“Just a guess.” You move a couple of steps forward, like you’re approaching a nervous lothcat. When he doesn’t move away, you sit on the armchair, a little closer to him. “You like that flamethrower too much.”

“That what you four were doing in there?” The helmet moves to the side so he can spy deeper down the street. Always careful. “Assessing my damage?”

“No, just sabacc. Different kind of damage.” He’s making small talk. The Mandalorian, whom you’ve overheard have conversations solely based on grunts and sighs, is chatting with you. He’s not just answering out of politeness, he’s prompting you to go on, to keep running your mouth. That’s something he said once between thrusts, perched over you right on this floor: Keep running your mouth, see what happens. The memory warms your neck. Maker, not the point. The point is, before, he always said you had a smart mouth. Sometimes he’d chastise you for it, other times he’d encourage it. And you used to have the suspicion (or, let’s face it: fantasy) that he actually liked it. That somewhere hidden, beyond his pride and honor’s jurisdiction, he enjoyed the teasing and the banter, the challenge of having to deal with you. Better yet: More than once it crossed your mind that he got off on it, too. It’s been a long time, but some of that might remain. Maybe you’ll take his advice: keep running your mouth, see what happens.

You sit straighter, arch your back a bit just in case he’s watching. “You interrupted a round with your little stunt.”

“Yeah?” The helmet doesn’t move, but his hand runs up the curtain, considering. “Sorry. I bet you were winning.”

That makes you smile. It’s a dig at you. Far and wide across Nevarro, your uncanny ability to lose every single game of sabacc you play baffles locals and foragers alike. Yes, you know you suck, but the game amuses you anyways. You like the trash talk, the double-guessing, the bluff-calling. So much so that you forget to actually play. But what’s important is he’s teasing you, and that’s more than charted territory with him, a match you have a shot at winning. Okay. Game on.

“I was, actually.”

He huffs. “Don’t believe you.”

“Then I don’t believe you’re here on business.” Pause for effect. You can almost see a question mark form in a cloud above the helmet. You lean forward and lick your lips, lower your voice. “I think you missed me.”

You’re used to the helmet’s features remaining impassive, so you don’t look for clues on there anymore. Mando’s hands are more telling. You want to believe you actually see his fingers twitch and clutch the curtain a little tighter, that he takes too long to answer. That’s what trying to read him is all about—blind-guessing and wishful thinking.

“Don’t know about that. Six months and two weeks without your cons, I’m almost rich.”

Down to the week, huh? “Okay, if you want to make it about money we’ll bet on it. Twenty credits says you missed me.”

“Last time I was here you weren’t a compulsive gambler. Store’s doing that bad?”

“Last time you were here,” you coo, “there was a lot less talking involved.” You stare into the visor, and pray he can’t see the desperate hope in your eyes.

Your prayers are answered. In a way. Mando ignores you, doesn’t even look at you.  You hear your clumsy attempt at seduction buzz around him like a one-winged bee, crash into the unmoving, unmoved Mandalorian, and fall to the floor in a pointed-lined spiral. You’re so embarrassed you want to step on it. Well, that settles it. Six months is apparently enough for a Mandalorian to lose interest.

“And store’s doing fine,” you lie to try and sway the conversation away from that lame innuendo that missed its mark. He really just wants to talk, then. No big deal. It’s fine. “Nobody gambles for money anyways.”

“Then why?”

You shrug. “Why do you hunt?” He’s never told you, but you saw him chase down a bounty once. He was ruthless, sweating adrenaline and with far too much stamina to only be chasing a bag of credits. “For the risk. The thrill.”

He lets your words float for a second. “You get a thrill out of losing?”

You roll your eyes. “I only lose cause everybody knows my bluff.” That is, except you. “You need to know someone to know their bluff. Greef and the others already know me too well. You, on the other hand.” You smile. “If you and I played, I’d get to keep so much of your stuff you’d think I’m half Jawa.”

And, only then, he seems to tense. That stupid throwaway line is what makes his spine grow visibly rigid and his hand drop from the curtain to his belt, where the leather of his glove creaks with how tightly he clutches the buckle. White and blue streetlights that reflect on his armor glide around like it’s water instead of beskar, and they’re your only indication that he’s shifted slightly. Slowly, so slowly you expect his neck to creak like a door, the Mandalorian turns away from the window to look at you. He holds there quietly, and you feel ants running down your back…stars, you’re nervous. For the first time in a while, he makes you genuinely anxious.

“You’re saying I don’t know you?” he rasps under the helmet. No, not really, but if it gets a reaction out of him…

“All I’m saying,” you start, summoning all your strength to keep your voice from faltering, “is you’ve been gone too long.” You try to make it sound a bit playful, but the words come out tasting bitter when you remember the sharp little edge that’s been digging on your side. He left you here, it whispers, he left you here and didn’t bother looking back. But a heavy boot suddenly drops forward and you’re forced to stop nursing your grudge to try and predict what Mando’s next move will be.

With every step he takes, you’re instinctively swallowed deeper into your armchair, until he’s looming over you. Stars above, the sheer size of him is enough to block out most of the artificial light coming in, and you’re left to squint in the blue twilight. Maker, you don’t remember him this big, this intimidating. Five months ago you would’ve smirked and opened your legs wide. C’mon, I don’t bite unless you ask, you would’ve teased, but now…now you think maybe you are the one who doesn’t know him anymore.

But some things never change, and having him so near still makes your thighs press together. If anything, this new foreignness, the inherent threat of a bounty hunter in your home that never quite poked the right nerve before now pulls on your most sensitive areas. It propels your heartbeat on a sprint. His arm moves, and—oh, you want him to touch you.

Visor trained on you, Mando points to the floor instead. “You hide your credits here.” To illustrate (or just to rub it in that he knows) his boot presses down on the loose tile and shifts from side to side. The sharp sound it makes irritates you less than knowing he found the fox clever hiding spot you used to pat yourself on the back for. “You don’t keep them in the store because it’s too easy to break into. The security panel downstairs is broken, but the one up here works fine.”

You can almost hear his proud smirk under the helmet. There’s a reserved side to him, sure, but bastard can be arrogant when he wants to. And no, you have no idea how he found the spot, but you’re not about to admit it.

“Congrats, boy scout. You can spot a busted panel and you have flat feet. Want a badge?” Your irritation brings back some of your old snark, but you still flinch when he moves closer and his legs brush against your knees.

“You also keep expensive parts inside the stuffing of this—” he takes a tiny step forward and frames  your knees with his legs “—armchair.”  Your blood freezes at his words, but it abruptly runs hot as the city’s lava river when you realize how close he stands now. His legs press against the armchair and there’s nowhere to go. You’re cornered.

A leather glove moves close and you hold your breath, before you realize he’s only toying with the tips of your hair. But his fingers dig deeper, tangle on thicker strands and, without warning, give a short but firm tug. It’s a tiny pull, but maker’s mercy, you feel your core pulse. And then, before you can regain some lucidity, his fingers dip lower, where the tips trace a slow line down your nape. He draws featherlight circles on that spot between your neck and your shoulder that he knows makes your toes curl, and—stars, it’s just been too long—you whimper.

“Still so sensitive here,” he whispers.  

Once, this shielded man knew his way around your body like it belonged to him. You thought that part of him was lost, that he forgot, that he’d truly been gone too long. Those fears dissipate when his palm curls around the back of your neck to hold your gaze on him, while the thumb of his other hand brushes your lips. You know the drill—you open your mouth and give the orange tip some kitten licks. Mando huffs: You can do better than that. Maker, it should be a red flag, how quickly you comply. That urgent need to please him that had never, ever felt so crucial. An O forms in your lips before you can stop them, and his thumb pushes down on your tongue deep and deeper. You should play hard, make him earn it, bite him. But his finger starts to retreat and you panic—no, he can’t change his mind, not now. You seal your lips, trap him inside your mouth and suck. But his grip on the back of your neck grows beskar stiff, and he forcefully removes his finger…only to glide the spit over your lips. Just like that first time.

The visor looms closer to your face, and you catch a ruptured sigh, the pleasured kind that these four walls know so well. If Mando wasn’t holding you down, your chest would balloon with satisfaction and you’d float. His thumb trails down your throat, wetting its path and no doubt feeling the vibration when you chuckle. He cocks his head to the side in a silent question.

“You owe me twenty credits,” you explain, your breath clouding the helmet’s surface. “You did miss me.”

Mando crouches lower, where his helmet brushes your nose, and gropes the tops of your thighs with those wide palms you’ve been dreaming about for weeks.

“Yeah? You like bets?” You’ve never heard his voice so coarse, scratchy like week-long stubble. Did he change the settings of his modulator? Or is it just rash, pent-up need? “Then thirty credits says you’re fucking soaked.” His fingers butterfly higher up your thighs, almost at the apex. Your legs jerk.

“That’s cheating,” you gasp.  

He takes one glove off and settles the covered hand on your hip, while the other disappears between your legs until—stars—he cups your core through your pants. You mewl and he hums when he feels the hot, damp fabric.

“I still win.” He presses the heel of his palm right into your clit and grinds it back and forth. Oh, if you thought you were wet before. The pressure, the friction, him—it all scalds you from head to toe like a fever, but you chase it, greedily push your hips into his palm. His fingers flatten along your slit and grope you tighter. “Gonna pay me? Doesn’t have to be credits.” He pushes viciously into you with that wide, hard palm, preening at the little gasps that escape you. Whimpering, you let your eyes fall shut and focus on something sprouting in your belly. Stars, you’re close—how the fuck are you so close already? It must be all the repressed desire, all that time. Fuck, you’re close—

The Mandalorian halts. You’re eyes flash open to see him straighten and step back, take his other glove off to stuff it snug between his belt and his hip, and remain still as a building. Still catching your breath, you study him head to toe, scanning for a sign of what went wrong. He’s clutching his belt, his stance is too smug. This isn’t him fighting temptation, he’s toying with you. Maker help him, you’re going to kill him. Some corner in your brain reasons that it’s kinda fair, as payback for all the times you messed with him. But in the forefront of your mind pulses the climax he just denied you, cast aside and angry.

Before you know what you’re doing, you push yourself off the armchair. “You—”

Mando beats you to it. A hand on your shoulder and a vembrance across your chest, he lunges forward and slams your back against a wall. He hovers over you, tightly pressed against your body. A fleshy, hard bulge covered by his pants throbs against your belly. Of course. You forgot how much he likes it when you look like prey; how much he enjoys the hunt, whether he admits it or not. The hand on your shoulder trails down to cup your breast. You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a shaky exhale.

“You need it bad,” he breathes as his fingers massage your chest. The movement shifts the fabric of your tunic, brushing it against your nipple. You roll your hips to try and stimulate him, to show you’re not the only one worked up. His erection twitches and you smile.  

“You—mmm—you’re projecting.” You grind again to prove your point, but he catches on to what you’re implying and retaliates by shoving his hand inside your cleavage. Stars, you have to punch down the moan surges up your throat when he pinches your nipple.

“You missed this,” Mando hisses, and whether he’s trying to convince you or himself, you don’t know. What you do know is he’s plotting to settle this stupid inkling of a bet in his favor. He wants you to admit you missed him so he doesn’t have to. You know, because it’s exactly what you are trying to do.

You sneak your hand down his torso, aiming for the hem of his pants—but before you can get even with him, he crushes his hips against yours and traps your palm between them. And he’s not done—he wedges his thigh between your legs and rubs it up and down, drags your clit just right. Your mouth gapes in a silent moan as white hot pleasure lights up your spine. You want to get away from it but, maker, his forearm is still stiff against your chest. Even when you grab the vembrance with your free hand it doesn’t budge. You’re trapped between him and the wall.

“Can take care of m-myself just fine,” you croak as a last attempt to hold on to your dignity. “At least when I’m alone I don’t have to fake any orgasms.”

Yeah, it’s a low blow. A dirty fucking lie too, but desperate times call for desperate measures and all. Good news is it gets you a reaction—he immediately stops moving, as if your words punched him off balance. Bad news is you hit a nerve—his breathing becomes harsh like a bull’s, so much so that you expect clouds of smoke to come out from under the helmet. The Mandalorian creeps closer to your face and his forearm digs deeper into your chest. There’s a promise of danger in the dark visor that makes your pulse race, and a primitive instinct blasts emergency sirens. Maker, this won’t end well for you.

Just as you’re about to backtrack and whisper you didn’t mean it, Mando lets go of you—only for a split second, before he grasps your shoulders and turns you around to push your front into the wall. You jerk back on instinct, but he flattens a palm between your shoulder blades and squishes you right back against it.

The helmet rests right next to your ear when Mando growls, “You expect me to believe that?” His hands drop to your hips as he replaces the pressure on your back with his chest. His body weight holds you in place, and he rocks the hard outline of his erection along your ass. “That I don’t make you cum, you little fucking—” You curl your back as much as his body allows so he can stroke himself tighter against you. He groans and kneads your cheeks, moves the flesh in tandem with his thrusts. “I shouldn’t let you tonight, t-teach you a lesson.”  

The mere suggestion feels devastating enough to let a pathetic whine tumble from your lips. Before, you could’ve turned this into a game, held out a little longer just to watch him break first. But you’re too pent up, too desperate, too sick of waiting. Your fingers hook on the hem of your trousers and push them down. Mid-movement, he traps both of your wrists in one hand and keeps them pressed against your lower back, while the other one gets your pants the rest of the way down, underwear too. You barely have enough time to step out of them before his free hand reaches between the apex of your thighs. You’re sticky, leaking around his fingers, and pushing back against his crotch like you’ll drop dead if he doesn’t fuck you.

“Fucking wet, fuck…” he mutters. His fingers follow the heat and your pussy clenches around nothing. Stars, if he just moved higher, a little higher where you’re hot and soaked and throbbing for him. But he takes his sweet time, molds the inside of your thighs like clay, pulls the flesh, squishes it together, until you’re writhing against him and leaking down your leg. Your vision blurs. “Can—can I…?” He lets his index finish the sentence, teasing at the edges of your outer lips.

Even with the side of your face against the wall, you manage to nod. “Yeah,” you breathe.

Two fingers slide around your folds and you gasp. Mando moves slowly, collecting your arousal and coating his fingers. Your breath catches when the tips finally push into your entrance—only a fraction before they slide back out, so the rest of his palm can cup along your cunt and drag more slick behind it. He’s strategically avoiding your clit, though, and with both arms behind your back and at his mercy, you can’t reach for it yourself. Fuck, you…you only need to hold on a bit more, he’ll get bored of his game soon enough. That’s it, just a little longer. You waited six months, no way he’s making you beg after a few minutes of teasing.

The Mandalorian eventually pulls his fingers away from your thighs and curses under his breath. You hear the familiar rustling of fabric and a divine zip that fills your eyes with tears of relief. Fucking finally. You brace yourself and relax your pelvic floor in preparation, but it’s barely necessary—you’re so ready for it. Your cunt is open and weeping, he can just slide it in. All this time, with nothing substantial inside you, your lower muscles pump and twist painfully with demanding want. Even with his size and in this position, you’re so turned on he might even be able to bottom out. Fuck, he doesn’t have to move much, a few good pumps and he’ll have you cumming, easy. Stars, what’s taking so damn long—

A modulated, battered moan and a wet noise make you turn your head over your shoulder and look for the source. The low light makes it difficult to make out shapes, but there’s no mistaking what you find below you. Hand wrapped solid around his cock, Mando is jerking himself off. With your cum as lubricant. While he treats you like a piece of furniture he’s only gripping for support. A chemical cocktail of lust mixed with fury spikes your blood.

“Is…wh-what are…what the fuck do you think y-you’re…”

“Say it,” he spits between his teeth, “say you f-fucking need me.”

No, no fucking way. As much as the words burn on your tongue and your clit tugs and begs, you’re not saying it. He left, not you. You waited for him. You turn your head as far back as your neck allows without snapping a ligament and look straight into the visor. And pointedly curl your lips inside your mouth, sealed.

Your act of rebellion lasts a good ten seconds.

“You’re so fucking difficult,” he snarls. He stops tugging on his cock, and for a moment you hope he might indulge you, push into you and stop the masochist torment you’ve talked yourselves into. But when it comes to Mando and you, it’s never that easy. Still not releasing your wrists, he grabs the base of his cock, glistening with your stolen juices, and rubs it up and down the swell of your uncovered ass. You gasp, let your lips part and your gaze fall to where he’s rubbing up against you and refusing to push inside.  

He's not going to last long. Swollen and a strangled purple, the head of his cock dribbles warm precum and smears it on your lower back. The veins on his length throb against your ass, and stars, they’d feel so much better inside you. The Mandalorian’s grunts and groans ring more frustrated than lost in pleasure; it’s not enough for him either. He’s torturing you and himself just to prove a point, while you refuse to speak the magic words just to keep your pride. Desperate tears threaten to spill, but you shut your eyes to push them back. Either of you could put an end to it, right now. Maker, it’s on the tip of your tongue: I need you. Spit it out, end it. I need you, Mando, I need you, do whatever you want with me. It doesn’t matter that you abandoned me in this shithole, that you discarded me like faulty equipment, that you didn’t even have the decency to tell me—

The thrusting stops. When you open your eyes, you find the visor fixed on you, cocked slightly to the side, like there’s writing on your face. Mando’s grip on your wrist softens, his frustrated panting slows. Maybe he sees the unshed tears, or maybe your face really is that transparent, because he takes pity on you. Gentle palms on your shoulders, he turns you around to face him.

Night has fallen. Fragments of fluorescent light pour inside through your worn out curtains and give the helmet a fuzzy silver halo. The rest of the armor is shiny black, smudges of light here and there. His head moves around the features of your face, one by one, taking its time. Showdown’s over. He’s not playing a game anymore, not trying to get you to break, he’s just…studying you. Staring his fill of you farewell-style, even though he just came back. It hits you that you don’t know how long he’s staying this time. You open your mouth to ask, but stop yourself in time. If he leaves, he leaves. He doesn’t owe you any explanations.

But when he curls an arm around your waist and holds you against the wall and his cold breastplate, it doesn’t feel like goodbye. It feels like old times—pre-siege, pre-battle, pre-everything—when he confidently grabs your left thigh, sinks his fingers into the plump flesh, and hooks it on his lower back. You drape your arms around his shoulders and hold him closer. You’ve always liked the bulk of him against you, it makes everything feel more real. Buried on the crook of your neck, you hear him sigh when he lets go of your thigh and blindly searches your cunt. With your leg around his back you’re completely open for him, so it takes him no time to find your bud. He presses against it and rubs it in slow but tight circles that make your legs cramp.

You push down on him, demanding more. He groans and complies, inserts one finger and continues rubbing on your clit with his thumb. Maker, this has no right to be so good. He’s doing pretty much the same you’ve done to yourself these past months, but with Mando there are never any ghost sensations, no what ifs. It’s all here and now, and you swear you feel the pleasure of his fingers picking up speed in every corner of your body. He has you moaning and rocking your hips, dripping down his hand, and when he starts rubbing you harder and tighter, you finally whine a tiny, “Please.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t need to ask what you want, but he moves his helmet to look at you square in the face, check if you mean it. You stare droopy-eyed into the visor and nod: yesyesyesyes. Mando groans and grips you tighter. Maker, he’s right, you need it—need the bruises, need his cock, need all of him.

“Fuck,” he breathes. His hand leaves you to grab his cock and guide it to your entrance. He moves it around your lips and brushes his tip against your clit as he looks for your hole in the dark. It doesn’t take long for the head to poke right outside where it needs to go. “Fuck, I don’t—don’t think I can hold back, don’t want to hurt you—”

“Stars, please,” you whine, “I want it rough.” You want it more than rough. After six months, you want it fucking depraved, but neither of you is going to last long enough to make it elaborate. Maker, you don’t care. Right now, you don’t care for risky positions or clever techniques, you want him.

He groans and pushes inside—only the head, still testing, but your walls immediately grip him tightly to hinder any attempts to move away. That’s not what you should’ve been worried about. Fingers tight around your waist, Mando pulls you down as he pushes up. Stars. The brutal thrust reaches the end of you and then some more. Fuckfuckfuck. The dull bam of your skull hitting the wall is suddenly drowned by a slicker, filthier sound coming from between your legs. His length begins to pull out, your pussy complains the whole way, and you can almost hear the Mandalorian gritting his teeth through the sweet torture of feeling you squeeze around him…and thrust back up—harder. He likes the pace and sticks to it—fast, rough, deep, repeat—while you make sounds like you’re choking on air. Stars, it has been long. Long enough to partially forget his size, his fucking girth, currently filling you to the brim and punching high little sounds from your throat.

“Mmmando,” you sob.

Mando groans in response, snakes a hand down to your clit and rubs with the same wild abandon as his pounding. Maker, your memory was never this fucking good. No matter how many details you recalled, there’s nothing compared to the real, human meat of his cock pulsing urgently inside you, hitting your cervix, making you whine. Nothing like his fingers around your waist, or knowing there’ll be bruises tomorrow. The pleasure has teeth, carries a painful bite, but it’s exactly what you need. That tangible grit in his thrusts and his fingers is the missing piece. Your muscles start cramping, you pull him tighter against you—Maker, right there, you can feel it. It reaches your head and makes you dizzy, sheds light on some hidden, shameful words.

“Mando, I…”

“I—fuck—I n-needed this,” he grunts and brings his hand down to feel where his cock is inching out of you, like he has to double check it’s actually happening. Thrust. “Used—used to d-dream about you.” Thrust. Three fingers now push into your clit and draw frantic shapes. You clench your jaw, feel the hot tide in your belly rise faster. Thrust. “Wake up so f-fucking hard—cum in my pants.” Thrust—thrust—thrust.

Maybe it’s his words, maybe the rough pace, but something holds a flame to the dynamite building inside you and it explodes. Maker, your head’s going to burst. You moan long and deep into the spot Mando’s ear might be. Your legs shake, your arms cramp. Months’ worth of frustration gush hot and wet around him, as he babbles encouragement: There you go, just like that, make it fucking good. Your walls are still fluttering, your ears are still ringing, you haven’t even ridden out the last of your climax when his hips pick up the pace.

“Let me—let me cum inside,” the warrior pants, “let me f-fill this cunt…I—I haven’t since—fuck, I didn’t—”

“Yes,” you gasp, “yes, please, Mando, cum, cum inside—”

There’s no space left between you, but Mando finds a way to squish you tighter against him as he pounds into you for a few last moments, until you hear a strangled grunt, and a half-forgotten warmth pools inside you. The extra lubrication drives his last thrust as deep as your body allows. A few more lazy thrusts inside you, short and stunted as you take his load inside you, before he stops. A warm string trails down your leg, and—stars, he’s leaking out. How much did he cum that it didn’t fit inside you?  Fuck.

You take turns panting, whimpering, listening to each other’s heartbeats slow to a semi-normal pace. The Mandalorian moves away from the crook of your neck to meet your glossy eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but you think will. You can almost hear his mouth opening, words boiling and rising in bubbles up his throat—

Zium!

It’s your imagination. It’s your ears ringing from that orgasm, your mind making stuff up. But. You could swear you saw a red flash glade right past your cheek. And from the way Mando’s helmet cocks to the side, you know he saw it too. You turn your heads in unison, to see smoke coming out of a hole a breath away from your ear. It takes both of you too long to put two and two together, and—before he can pull out—more of those red flashes are raining down on you.

…………

Edit: Chapter 2 let’s goooooooo

Taglist: @rosetophighlander​ @hellomothermoon @newyorksins​ @leo-moon​ @benedrylcumbersnatch

[griffintail]

I’ll set the scene, cause I feel like this needs a lil explaination, but imagine this:

One of the The Parent Gang (this is how I refer to the characters you’ve written all the wonderful parental stuff about) is wandering around an area they’re unfamiliar with, mainly just lookin to get some new resources or find a decent mine, when they stumble upon a water well in the middle of an empty field. The first thing off about this is there isn’t a village around for MILES, secondly the well is completely dry and empty, and third of all when they look into the well (which goes down pretty deep compared to the usual village wells), they see a CHILD at the bottom of it. The kid’s clearly malnourished, clothes in rags, dark circles under their tiny eyes, and when they see the Parental Gang member everything about the child brightens up; whoops, guess who’s gonna be a dad~!

- from, an Anon Who’s Trapped in Their Own Love of the Found Family Trope and Never Wants to Leave❤️❤️❤️

Yeah, I love those tropes. I love any child reader tropes though! XD

Wilbur is also my favorite thus, I picked him from the gang!

Well Met

Pairing: Parental! Wilbur x Child! F! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of malnourishment, Implied Mistreatment, It’s light angst that rapidly turns into fluff

        Wilbur was hoping to find a place to loot to get a few bits of equipment for L’Manberg. Maybe he could even find a village that would like to trade for a few bits of good gear to keep in case of emergency. He really didn’t mean to wander so far out though.

        “I should have brought a horse.” He muttered as he put his hands on his hips, looking up at the sun at the highest point in the sky.

        He needed to head back if he wanted to get home before the night struck. Looking around, he hoped he could find something that would be a good enough landmark to remind him where he stopped when he came back out with a horse. Instead, he squinted thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him.

        In the middle of the spruce forest, there was a well that Wilbur would usually see in a village, but there wasn’t one for miles, hence his search. Taking another quick look at his surroundings, he went over to the well. It was an older well, moss growing along the sides and a severed rope where the bucket would hang. He heard no water, so, he looked down, nearly falling in as he startled seeing something that was most certainly not water.

        He stared in surprise as he looked at the small figure of what he could only assume was a child. As they looked up at him, he had to restrain himself from just jumping down the well. Big, innocent (E/C) eyes met his, looking so dull for a moment with bags under them before they sparkled with hope. When she, Wilbur assumed looking at them, looked up at them, he saw the rags she wore and how tiny she was. She opened her mouth but only a cough left her lips.

        “Relax.” He quickly told her as she whimpered at the pain the cough brought her. “I know you’re here. I’m going to get you out as soon as I can. Just give me a moment.”

        Desperately, he dug through his bag and breathed a sigh of relief that he did pack rope in case he found any sort of temple.

        “Alright, darling.” He talked to her to keep her calm while he tied the rope to the nearest tree, not trusting the possible rooting well wood. “I’m going to come down and get you. We’ll see what to do when I get you up but we’re going to do this one step at a time.”

        He gave a hard tug to the rope and it held. Carefully, he tossed it down and he felt so much relief that it ended close enough at the bottom for him to get down.

        “I’m coming love.” He told her as he climbed in.

        Scaling down the wall, he tried to think how this poor small child got in this situation. If someone left her there, he would not rest until he found those people. But one situation at a time.

        He hit the floor and he saw how skinny the poor girl was. Not a drop of water was on the floor so he could only assume she was dehydrated as well after that violent cough. Carefully, he crouched in front of her, giving her a gentle smile. She couldn’t be any more than six as well and it made anger grow in the back of Wilbur’s head.

        “Hi, sweetie. Let’s get you out of here, ya?”

        She gave a small, slow nod.

        “Alright, well I’m going to pick you up and you’re going to have to hold onto me like you’re giving me a big hug, ok?”

        She gave a similar nod.

        “Ok, here we go.”

        He picked her up carefully, noticing how she flinched slightly and how cold she was. Since he was so warm, she gave no hesitance to hold onto him as she nuzzled into his chest to take in the warmth. He hesitated in surprise before wrapping his other arm around her, patting her greasy hair, which made him wince at the feeling.

        “It’s ok, we’re going.”

        He held her with one arm now and grabbed the rope with his free hand.

        “Keep holding on like this.” He reminded her lightly before starting his climb.

        It was much more difficult with a passenger to climb up and even more difficult when he could only use one hand. He stayed determined though to get out, not for himself but the little girl clinging onto him. The climb was long but he reached the top, hugging the girl tighter as he swung himself out. Sitting on the ground, putting his back on the well wall, his breath came out rapidly as he tried to catch it while the little girl stayed nuzzled in his chest.

        “We made it.” He let out as he closed his eyes for a moment.

        He waited till his breathing calmed down before he took in his situation. He had a possible starving and dehydrated child, miles away from L’Manberg. The sun would set soon and he’d be slower with the extra weight to bring along. So, he needed to set up camp.

        “Alright darling, I have some water and an apple in my bag. I’m going to put you down and give you that while I set up a quick camp for us to rest in till morning. Ok?”

        The little girl gave a nod and he lightly squeezed her before putting her down instead against a tree, kneeling in front of her as he went through his bag.

        “Drink slowly, don’t want to make yourself sick.” He gently told her, giving her the water before taking a cloth and the apple.

        Carefully, he cut apple using an unused arrow as she slowly drank. He put the cut-up apple on the cloth giving it to her.

        “There were go, darling. You rest up and I’m going to get a fire going to warm you up.” He gently patted her shoulder before he stood up.

        He took off his jacket and hat before working on getting a fire going. As he worked on getting materials, he took off his walkie.

        “Tommy.” He called out on the public L’Manberg channel.

        “Wilbur! Where are you?” Tommy questioned.

        “I’ve gotten held up exploring, I’ll be back tomorrow. Keep everything together for me alright?”

        “Of course, I will! I’m the Vice President!”

        Wilbur chuckled lightly. “Right, thank you, Mr. Vice President. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

        “Ok. Be careful out there.”

        “Will do.” Wilbur nodded before putting his walkie away again.

        He came back and started the fire. The little girl scooted closer to the warmth coming off the flames as he tried to set up a little shelter for the night to hide from mobs using large branches.

        “Alright, we have somewhere to sleep little one.” He smiled as he sat next to her, wiping sweat off his forehead. “I should introduce myself now. I’m Wilbur, I’m President of a nation called L’Manberg.”

        The little girl played with the rags she wore before she looked at him.

        “I’m (Y/N).” She let out quietly, her voice still having a slight rasp.

        He smiled wider hearing her speak. “That’s a very pretty name. Do you have a home?”

        (Y/N) paused as she scrunched up her nose when she thought.

        “I-I don’t remember things very well Mr. Wilbur. I don’t know.”

        “Hey, it’s ok.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “I can take you back with me and you can think about it somewhere safe ok?”

        She nodded. “Ok.”

        “Then we’ll do that in the morning darling.”

        When night fell, Wilbur shepherded her inside the shelter and made her comfortable little corner, laying his jacket on top of her. He stayed up during the night just incase with his bow at his side. As the night went on, he’d glance at the little girl to make sure she was alright. He was worried about how she might have gone down the well.

        Was her bit of memory loss from how long she was down there? How long was she down there?!

        He’d make sure she was ok though.

        In the morning, he went out to check for any stray mobs before he woke up the little girl.

        “It’s morning darling. Let’s get to L’Manberg.” He smiled gently as she rubbed her eyes sleepily.

        “Ok, do you have more water, Mr. Wilbur?” She asked.

        “No, I’m sorry love. I wasn’t planning on being out so late last night.” He apologized. “I’ll get us back as fast as I can so we can get more water.”

        “Ok.” She muttered.

        “Why don’t I carry you so you don’t tire out?” He offered as he put on his hat and his bag. “You can put my jacket on and then ride on my back.”

        He helped her out before picking her up.

        “Here we go (Y/N).” He smiled before making the walk home.

        It was another half a day’s journey but he moved as quick as he could. As he walked, he told her dorky little stories to make her give little giggles and even sang a few songs to her, just wanting to keep her entertained. Before even he knew, half a day was gone and he grinned as he saw the welcoming walls of L’Manberg.

        “There’s home.” He told her. “L’Manberg.”

        “It looks pretty.” She mumbled.

        “It is. And it has very nice people inside. I have a friend in there, Niki, I’m sure she’ll make you some cookies if you ask her nicely and we’ll get you some water.”

        His own stomach grumbled but he didn’t feel it as he felt the little girl squeeze onto him lightly.

        “That sounds nice Mr. Wilbur.”

        “Just call me Wilbur. I’m going to be taking care of you until we see if you have a home, so no need for all that mister stuff.”

        “Ok.” She smiled this time, hiding in his shoulder.

        “Now, let’s get down there and get you cleaned up. Then, we can go look around with some cookies.”

        He went down, smiling to himself. He didn’t know if (Y/N) had a home. He’d look, but he doubted there was any place that she belonged to but she’d have a home now if that was the truth. He’d give her the best care and live in one of the best nations, where he’d always keep her safe.

[alfredosauce50]

Avatar Prologue

Synopsis: In 2154, humans have depleted Earth's natural resources, leading to a severe energy crisis. They embark on an interstellar journey to Pandora, a lush alien moon, to mine for the priceless mineral, unobtanium. On their quest to ravage this world of its raw materials, they are met with resistance from a highly-evolved native population, the ‘Na’vi.’ Meanwhile, scientists link their minds to Na’vi/human hybrids, Avatars, to gain free movement in the poisonous environment. Alfred, a paralyzed ex-marine, lands this opportunity to pilot an Avatar and becomes mobile again. When he runs off and gets stranded in the Pandoran wilderness, nearly getting himself mauled to death in the process, he is saved by you--a disgruntled Na’vi woman who demands that he and his people leave. But Alfred is persistent. He needs your help, and after witnessing auspicious signs about him, you can’t turn him away. When he is finally accepted into the clan, he must decide where his loyalties lie as humans ravage Pandora and threaten its survival. Prologue - You don’t dream in cyro Wordcount: 4, 520 Disclaimer: This is a crossover with the film “Avatar”. A/N: This story is mainly told from Alfred’s perspective. There will be switches to his point of view indicated by ‘Alfred (V.O)’ as a VoiceOver for his thoughts.

Avatar - Prologue

You don’t dream in cyro

When I was lying there in the VA hospital, with a big hole blown through the middle of my life, I started having these dreams of flying. I was free.

Sooner or later, though, you always have to wake up.

He opened his eyes when the lights turned green. Behind him was a sea of people waiting to cross, all wearing some sort of facial covering to breathe in the smog-ridden city. Everywhere was so tightly packed, even a local wouldn’t have known what the ground looked like. Alfred could vouch for that. He was always closer to the floor than everyone else was.

He was at the front of the pavement just before the curb. Nobody pushed past him to cross the road first. But then again, shoving a guy in a wheelchair onto oncoming traffic wasn’t exactly a good look. Attaching his hands to the wheels, he rolled himself onto the road to make his way home.

Alfred (V.O)

|

They can fix a spinal if you’ve got the money. But not on vet benefits. Not in this economy. A VA check and twelve bucks will get you a cup of coffee.

I’m what they call ‘waitlisted.’

|

His unit wasn’t much, but nobody could kick him out of it. It was his own little prison cell. There was a single-serving kitchen, a tiny bathroom that could barely fit his chair in, and a bedroom that doubled as a living room. Crumbs and wrappers were almost always on the floor, but Alfred reckoned it gave the place a bit more character.

Parking by his dusty gray bed, he lifted himself onto the mattress. He pulled his legs up laboriously, one after the other. After years of inactivity, the muscles in his legs had atrophied so severely, they were barely the size of a pair of arms. As his projector played the news channel, lighting up his dim room with a white glaring screen, he wondered to himself if he was better off getting rid of them.

“The Bengal tiger, extinct for over a century, is making a comeback.”

But like all those who came before him, there was the smallest flicker of hope he could get back up again. Maybe not today, but someday.

“These cloned tiger cubs at the Beijing Zoo are the lastest of a number of species that have been cloned back into existence in the past five years.”

He joined the Marines for the hardship. To be hammered by the anvil of life. Told himself he could any test a man could pass.

He rocked back and forth on his wheelchair to balance a shot of tequila on his forehead. Everyone chimed in on a loud ‘drink’ chant, which sped up in rapid progression. It wasn’t long before he popped it into his mouth and swallowed it one go.

Everyone exploded in cheers and hollers as he slammed the glass down.

“Oh, yeah!” He gasped triumphantly, giving one of his pals a high-five. This bar wasn’t somewhere to take your mom to, but other wheelchair-bound vets also happened to frequent the establishment.

Alfred found himself staring into space as his body worked through the alcohol he just downed. What did catch his attention was an unfolding argument between a man and a woman. The guy was probably around six feet, heavy-weight, and capable of folding his ass without trying. But the girl? She had no chance of standing up against him.

That wouldn’t have been a problem if he didn’t smack her upside her face. People looked away.

He didn’t.

He craned his head to the side as he watched on.

He should’ve turned a blind eye to it. Hell, he was the last person in the world who should be looking for trouble. But Alfred was obedient. There was always a voice in his head that told him what to do, and currently, it was getting him to roll towards the son of a bitch. Once he got close enough, he launched onto him and landed a hard punch square across his face.

All he ever wanted in his sorry-ass life was something worth fighting for.

Almost immediately, he ended up getting his ass beat instead. He was kicked out of the bar not long after, but ‘tossed’ was the more accurate word.

Landing into a murky puddle with a splash, he rolled onto his back to embrace the light drizzle of rain. His wheelchair crashed into the spot next to him. He cringed at the heavy clatter that sounded. If it was broken, he’d have to break into his savings again.

But he’d reached the point of not caring.

“I hope you realize you’ve just lost yourself a customer!” He shouted, still in a craze from the fight. Alfred may have been bruised and bloodied, but his spunk never left. Arms wide and eyes reflecting the expanse of the gray sky, he laughed airily as his body absorbed the shit water of the city.

“Candy-ass bitch.”

He collapsed and let his head fall back.

Just when he thought he’d take a nap on the cold, wet ground, he picked up on two shadows looming over him through his eyelids.

“Can’t a guy get some privacy around here?” Alfred murmured, opening his eyes to see two faces staring down at him. Both men donned clean black suits and ties. If aliens weren’t already common knowledge, he’d wonder if this was his forgettable experience with the Men in Black—their features were unremarkable and blandly threatening.

“Are you Alfred Jones?”

“One and only.”

One of them unfolded their wallet to show their I.D.

“It’s about your brother.”

What was disguised as the darkest moment in his life was an opportunity to find the light again.

The subtle stench of burning flesh and ash lingered in the crematorium. To think his baby brother, his only family left in the world, was about to add to that left a sour flavor in his mouth. But he was too numb to let it deepen into anything else. Life wasn’t fair. And life did what life was best at doing. Taking.

The strong prey on the weak. A guy with a gun ended his journey for the paper in his wallet.

“Jesus, Matt.” He whispered, looking over his still body with a pained expression. “Look at you.”

If one of them was to kick the bucket first, Alfred always bet that it would be his. But here he was, staring at his brother’s pale corpse like some kind of sick joke. And he was the punchline. He couldn’t even get the peace of mind of passing before him as a paraplegic bum with no future.

“Your brother represented a significant investment,” One of them began. “We’d like to talk to you about taking over his contract.” Alfred couldn’t listen to the drone of their voices. They meant business. All he wanted to do was mourn for a day. Watch the cardboard coffin melt into nothing but ash.

But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and he’d been eating scraps for the longest time.

“Since your genome is identical to his, you could step into his shoes,” The other continued, giving a nonchalant shrug. “So to speak.”

“It’ll be a fresh start on a new world.”

“And the pay is good.”

“Very good.”

Alfred (V.O)

|

Matt was the scientist, not me.

He was the one who wanted to get shot light-years out into space to find the answers. Me—I was just another dumb grunt getting sent someplace I was gonna regret.

|

All he could remember before going under was his brother’s cardboard coffin being rolled into the furnace. When he finally came to, he was in his personal rendition of a coffin. A metal one that locked him inside icy-blue darkness. Tiny droplets of his own sweat floated over his eyes.

He licked his dry lips as he focused on each individual blob. A heart monitor beeped on faintly. He was still alive, but barely. Alfred thought he had his fair share of nausea. Impending doom. But this? This was something else. Rolling his head back to peer outside a tiny window, he pushed himself out of his chamber like he’d come back to life in a morgue.

Alfred (V.O)

|

In cyro, you don’t dream at all.

It doesn’t feel like six years.

More like a fifth of a tequila and an ass-kicking.

|

When he emerged into a larger chamber, still strapped to his bed like a stretcher, he blinked furiously at the sight of med-techs floating around. So this was the famous ‘zero-g’ he’d been hearing about. In this multi-tiered cyro vault, people were emerging from their capsules, one by one.

One of the med-techs floated on top of him.

“Are we there yet?” Alfred croaked out hoarsely.

They patted his shoulder.

“Yeah. We’re there, sunshine.”

He unstrapped himself and pulled his way to his locker. He was flying. And it was easier than being on wheels. While he opened his locker, a loud, instructive voice announced something in prominent echoes in the chamber.

“You’ve been in cyro for five years, nine months, and twenty-two days. You will be hungry. You will be weak. If you feel nauseous, please use the sacks provided for your convenience...”

Alfred swung open the metal door to find exactly that. “... The staff thanks you in advance.”

In front of the interstellar spacecraft he was aboard was a ginormous gas planet, Polyphemus. It boasted mesmerizing swirls and spots like Jupiter, and it also happened to be ringed with dozens of moons. But the largest moon didn’t look like a moon at all. Instead, it looked strangely similar to Earth. It was called the ‘Blue moon’ from the vast, navy oceans and rich greenery that covered the surface.

Alfred (V.O)

|

Up ahead was Pandora.

You grew up hearing about it, but I never figured I’d be going there.

|

This wasn’t the ship that landed—there were smaller shuttles to send scores of men and women down onto a second Earth. When he boarded one, he was already getting weird looks from his soon-to-be colleagues. But he was used to it.

Why send a cripple on a space voyage that would be so physically demanding?

Alfred could ask the same question.

The shuttle’s thrusters fired away, zooming across the sky. It flew by massive cliffs and towering mesas carpeted in rainforest. Thick scarves of cloud swirled around the tops. It was a pristine landscape untouched by man. And the trees—God, were they some big-ass trees. Redwoods were hard enough to believe in, so Alfred had another thing coming.

The bark wasn’t red, let alone brown, either.

It was all cyan. A shade so bluish-green, one had to wonder if their eyes were deceiving them.

“Exo-packs on! Let’s go! Exo-packs on!” The crew chief bellowed in the aisle. The passengers, all wearing tight T-shirts and cargo pants, scrambled to attach their breathing gear. Alfred glanced around in uncertainty, never having used one of these masks. “Remember, people. You lose that mask, you’re unconscious in twenty seconds, you’re dead in four minutes. Let nobody be dead today!”

He finally managed to attach the facepiece out of pure adrenaline. It was a clear covering meant for filtering out the toxins in the air.

“Looks very bad on my report.”

The pilots in the cockpit spoke with a broadcasting voice into their radio.

“Hell’s Gate tower. This is TAV 1-6 on approach. Crossing outer marker. Mine is in sight.”

The mine in question was no pretty thing.

There were two drill sites that dug deep into the Earth, each the size of a crater. The surrounding ground was still covered with trees and shrubbery, but without the green, it was nothing but dry and dead dirt. A road in the center was raised to support huge dozers the size of apartment complexes.

The shuttle hovered over a compound, blasting out air in a hundred-meter radius. Once it landed, the crew chief cleared their throat to keep barking.

“Harnesses off, get your packs! Put it together. Let’s go, let’s go!” Everybody unbuckled themselves and slipped on their duffel bags. While they lined up in a neat file towards the exit, the chief marched down the aisle. “When that ramp comes down, go directly into the base. Do not stop! Go straight inside, wait for my mark!” The ramp lowered with a hydraulic whine.

Everyone squinted.

The light was blinding after sitting in a dim metal box. Alfred straightened his back and leaned to the side to get a better look. It didn’t seem like anything out of the ordinary—an upsized military base at best. But the human activity here was the last thing to be impressed by. Here on Pandora, gunships weren’t the only things flying around out there.

Alfred (V.O)

|

There’s no such thing as an ex-marine.

You may be out, but you never lose the attitude.

|

The company jogged out of the ship. While wearing camo and stoic faces, they beat their strong legs against the ground and made their way to base. Supervising sec-ops troopers showed laid-back smiles upon seeing their arrival.

“Well, well, ladies. Look at all that fresh meat!”

Alfred was still inside the shuttle. He took his sweet time, unfolding his wheelchair to pull himself onto it laboriously. Then, he threw on his duffel bag like a backpack. As he rolled himself down the aisle, the chief turned to him with a shake of the head.

“Let’s go, special case. Do not make me wait for you!” They shouted, earning a wary gaze from said ‘special case’. Alfred figured the name and its derivatives needed a little more getting used to on his end. This thought would ring particularly true as he received a very warm welcome.

“Yo, check this out, man. Meals on wheels.” A trooper caught sight of him and jeered. Another turned back and shook his head.

“Oh, man. That is just wrong.”

He’d seen loads leave this place in a wheelchair. He’d never seen someone show up in one.

Fortunately, Alfred was nowhere near earshot to pick up on those comments. He was much too absorbed with the familiar and alien surroundings. Heavy-duty tanks rolled by, helicopters flew past, and men in huge exoskeleton war machines stomped by.

Back on Earth, these guys were army dogs. Marines. Fighting for freedom. But out here, they’re just hired guns. Taking the money, working for the company.

Alfred slowed to a stop to let a tractor past.

As its monstrous wheels rolled by, he couldn’t help noticing several pikes protruding out of them. Numerous arrows with bright pink, purple, and green feathered tips were sticking to the tires. The Neolithic weapons were jarring amidst the advanced technology they skewered into.

But they were huge, like meter-long javelins.

And that was with half the length impaled into the tires. He wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or frightened.

Must be the natives, Alfred pondered. He didn’t know anything about them, save for their existence, so he was a little intimidated by the idea of stepping onto their turf. They were intelligent beings, and they were out there, beyond the fence. And it didn’t look like they were taking lightly to human company.

“You are not in Kansas anymore...” The foreboding voice began from the balcony. In front of rows and rows of new recruits—hundreds of them—a man turned around, showing their rugged features. A scar resembling claw-marks ran from their scalp to their jaw. He paced down the aisle and stopped, stance wide. “You are on Pandora, ladies and gentlemen. Respect that fact every second of every day.”

Alfred rolled into the cafeteria and watched on.

Nobody could mistake that dignified colonel for another. Colonel Miles Quaritch. Quaritch pointed out the window towards the dark treeline.

“Out beyond that fence, every living thing that crawls, flies, or squats in the mud wants to kill you and eat your eyes for jujubes.”

The room fell deathly silent.

“We have an indigenous population of humanoids called the Na’vi. They’re fond of arrows dipped in a neurotoxin which can stop your heart in one minute.” The solid faces of miners, Cat-machine drivers, engineers, and geologists watched on as they took that in. Alfred was one of those faces. It was surreal to think he had a close encounter with those things.

“And they have bones reinforced with naturally occurring carbon fiber. They are very hard to kill.”

Alfred rolled closer in until he was right in front of the Colonel, who immediately laid eyes on him.

“As head of security, it’s my job to keep you alive.”

He paced back to the balcony like a panther.

“I will not succeed,” Quaritch continued, pausing for effect. As a greenhorn himself, Alfred could feel the anxiety trickling down everybody’s skin. That was if it wasn’t just him. “Not with all of you. If you wish to survive, you need to cultivate a strong mental attitude. You’ve got to obey the rules. Pandora rules.”

People of all kinds meshed together in the metal halls. They connected everything in the compound, from bio labs bustling with science majors to hangars housing the latest planes and amp suits. Everybody had a place to go. Alfred was just rolling down the length of it, hoping for the best.

“Excuse me, excuse me—” He never thought to answer the frantic calls. It was only until someone came up behind him did he look over his shoulder.

The guy was breathless from stumbling under his overflowing duffel bag. He was a lanky fellow, and the button-down he wore was hanging off him like a flag. “—are you Matt’s brother? Alfred, if I remembered correctly. You look just like him!”

Alfred shot him a wary look.

“Sorry,” The stranger held out a hand. He had short, choppy blonde hair framing a roundish face. “Arthur Kirkland. I went through Avatar training with him.”

“Right,” Alfred shook his hand awkwardly. “Nice to meet you, I guess.” He continued rolling down the hall. It didn’t seem like he was eager to keep the conversation going, which was perfectly understandable. So, Arthur never beat around the bush to get straight into what they came here to do.

They entered a lab through a pair of automatic glass doors. When they opened, they let out a soft hiss.

“... Right, here we are,” Arthur smiled curtly at him. “The bio-lab. We’ll be spending a lot of time in here.”

They made their way to where the clone tanks were. How they glowed such a vibrant blue was almost magical—though that word wouldn’t be appropriate in this environment. Inside floated an unconscious alien body. An Avatar. Its skin was a rich cyan blue, and sprouting out its back was a long, lemur-like tail.

“Damn! They got big.”

That thing had to be around ten feet.

“Yeah, they fully mature on the flight out.” Arthur chuckled, just as amazed, if not more. He turned to the supervising scientist briefly—he donned a crisp white lab coat and a pair of rectangular glasses. Paired with that was a clean-cut black hairdo with sharp, cheek-length sidelocks. “Seems like the proprioceptive sims worked pretty well.”

Alfred listened intently, even if he had no idea what those words meant.

“Yeah, they’ve got great muscle tone. It’ll take us a few hours to get them decanted, but you guys can take them out tomorrow,” The scientist beamed, showing a thumbs-up. That had Arthur grinning with a fierce kind of excitement. Hoping to share the buzz with the newcomer, the man in the lab coat pointed to the tank adjacent. “There’s yours.”

While the two introduced themselves to one another, Alfred wordlessly rolled to the other side of the tank. The deep thumping of the Avatar’s heartbeats filled his ears like a lullaby. Its sleeping face turned to him as it floated inside. Like Arthur’s Avatar, his had feline ears and a long feral snout. But its features made for a spitting image of his brother.

“Looks like him,” Alfred whispered, craning his head to the side. His cerulean eyes reflected the icy-blue glow of the tank, illuminated with sheer awe and wonder. To think a bum like him could even fathom such a sacred experience felt like a sin in of itself.

“No,” Arthur leaned down beside. “Looks like you.”

“This is your avatar now, Alfred.”

“And the concept is that every driver is matched to his own avatar, so their nervous systems are in tune. Or something.” Alfred spoke into a stereo cam for his first-ever video log in the compound. “Which is why they offered me this gig, ‘cause I can link with Matt’s avatar, which is insanely expensive.” His brows furrowed together for a moment. Then, he looked off-camera to where Arthur and Kiku were standing as they worked off a holographic screen.

“Hey, is this right?” He asked. “I just say whatever I want into these video logs?”

“Yeah. You have to get into the habit of documenting everything--what you see, what you feel--it’s all part of the science—” Arthur gestured with his hands.

Kiku held up an index finger.

“Good science is good observation.”

“—plus, it’ll keep you sane for the next six years.”

“Phew,” Alfred blew out his cheeks and hung his head. Six years, huh? It was a decent chunk out of anybody’s lifespan, but considering the twelve-year commute here and back, it was relatively short. Giving his nape a rub, he sat up straight again. “Alright, so, here I am, doing science.”

The marine looked around the lab.

“I guess I’m something of a scientist myself, now.”

Doctor Grace Augustine, the head of the Avatar program, was not happy meeting Matt’s replacement for the next six years. Getting out of her unit in the link room, a machine that connected her to her avatar, with a migraine added to this full-blown headache. She could express enthusiasm to Arthur and Kiku as fellow biologists, but she couldn’t welcome a trigger-happy marine into her esteemed band of researchers. And in an Avatar body, no less.

“I don’t need you,” She spoke firmly to Alfred, who could only return the animosity with a glower of his own. “I need your brother. You know, the PhD who trained three years for this mission?”

“Well, he’s dead,” Alfred thinned his lips. His steely look never faltered as he added this bitterly.

“I know it’s a major inconvenience to everyone, but shit happens.”

Grace sighed. She’d been made privy to the news already, but she was in a tight spot. She needed an experienced scientist, not another army dog whose presence infested the compound with the stench of sweat and gunsmoke, and not to mention, the testosterone-induced urge to whip out their guns for everything. There were just as many docile creatures as there were aggressive ones in the Pandoran wilderness.

“How much lab training have you had?”

“I dissected a frog, once.” He shrugged.

“You see? You see? They’re intentionally screwing with us. I’m going to Selfridge.” She stormed out of the link room, much to Kiku’s dismay. He scrambled after her in a frenzy.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea--”

“No man, this is such bullshit!” Grace turned around briefly but kept marching. “I’m gonna kick his corporate butt. He has no business sticking his nose in my department.” Kiku dug his hands through his hair as he walked up to Alfred. Everything was coming along just swimmingly.

“Here tomorrow, 0800. Try and use big words.”

Grace made long strides into the intelligence operations center. It was just like any other air traffic control tower, but with mini-golf mats on the ground. A short and narrowly-framed guy in a dress shirt was playing around with a new putter.

“Parker, you know, I used to think it was benign neglect,” She began, turning towards him with a frown. “But now I see that you’re intentionally screwing me.”

“Grace, you know, I enjoy our little talks.” Selfridge held the putter with two hands as he focused on the ball between his feet. He hit it gently. Before the ball could make it inside, the doctor kicked the cup aside and folded her arms.

“Oops,” Grace held her arms behind her back. He stared at her, disgruntled. Her chin-length ginger curls moved along with her head as she spoke heatedly. “I need a researcher. Not some jarhead dropout.”

“Well, actually, I thought we got lucky with him.” The woman shot him a weird look as he sauntered forward to retrieve the ball.

“Lucky?”

“Yeah.”

“How is this in any way lucky?”

“Lucky your guy had a twin brother, and lucky that brother wasn’t some oral hygienist or something. A marine we can use.” Selfridge never spared her a glance as he walked up to an assistant, handing her the ball and putter. “I’m assigning him to your team as security escort.” Grace followed him with a shake of the head, pointing at the floor in frustration for emphasis.

“The last thing I need is another trigger-happy moron out there!”

He approached a holographic map and clicked around with the controls.

“Look, look, you’re supposed to be winning the hearts and minds of the natives. Isn’t that the whole point of your little puppet show?” The man may not have been big, but his eager ruthlessness made up for that lacking department. “If you look like them and you talk like them, they’ll start trusting us. We build them a school, we teach them English, but after what, how many years?”

Selfridge turned to the exasperated doctor with a snappy attitude of his own.

“Relations with the indigenous are only getting worse.”

Grace nodded before adding this, point-blank.

“Yeah, that tends to happen when you use machine guns on them.”

“Right. Come here,” He beckoned her to follow with a curl of his index finger. Marching quickly to his office, he approached a magnetic display with a metallic, shimmering rock floating above it. He picked that up and held it close to his face. “This is why we’re here. Because this little gray rock sells for twenty million a kilo. That’s the only reason. It’s what pays for the whole party.”

You could never speak to someone like Selfridge unless you had ‘million’ or ‘billion’ in your sentences. Maybe if the death toll surged up to those numbers, he could finally wonder what he was doing wrong.

“It’s what pays for your science,” He gestured around furiously. Placing the rock back on the magnetic display, he pulled a chair back to sit down on it. “Comprendo? Now, those savages are threatening our whole operation, we’re on the brink of war, and you’re supposed to be finding a diplomatic solution,”

Grace could only stand in defeated silence.

“So use what you’ve got, and get me some results.”

Next chapter: 01 - First contact

[viltrumitesuperboy]

A Promise (Bucky Barnes x Male Reader)

Not so much angst as I would have liked, and the reader learns to live outside of HYDRA by himself. This feels more like an origin story than anything.

Requested by: anon Can I request a Bucky Barnes x Male reader? Maybe starts out angsty but becomes fluffy? Reader could be tasked by HYDRA to kill Bucky but remembers him from when Bucky worked for HYDRA and that he loved Bucky, and Bucky helps him get used to life outside of HYDRA?

Word count: 4105

The few times you were placed under cryostasis, your last thought was always "I will not forget..." Then you'd wake up, only with the memories of being placed under and that final thought. You remembered when you mentioned it once to one of the people in your group, and they said it was just a memory hiccup. A defect. Because as far as you knew, you were a weapon for HYDRA and had always been one. Then you were back in the chair that made you want to fight more than anything. You never repeated the same mistake again.

You weren't allowed to make mistakes on missions either, and that was how you learned. To never do anything wrong if you were on a mission. There were no feelings involved in killing, as taking a life was merely a necessity, according to your handlers.

You did, however, have some feeling for one of your fellow soldiers. The difference was that he was the Winter Soldier. You usually worked on missions together, and rarely spoke, but when you did, something about you felt less like the soldier you were trained to be. He seemed to feel the same way, if the softening of his features was anything to go by. The few moments you had with each other weren't always erased, but sometimes you'd open your eyes and find yourself remembering the tiniest mischievous grin on the Soldier's lips.

You met a young girl with fiery hair with such potential, and her skills were beyond anyone her age. It took years to get to where she was. When you found out the Winter Soldier had been training her, you felt a sense of pride, and maybe something too much for the Soldier. That was not acceptable.

Little Natalia seemed to fight differently. Unlike you and the Soldier, she felt. She was more human than you both would ever be. You realised she was fighting for her survival. She didn't want to die. Her peers would not make it if she was the one to excel, because they were the weak ones. She did not fight with passion, but she fought for something else. But her heart while fighting was just as cold as yours.

"I hope I'm the first to be dismissed from training tomorrow. I hurt myself but I couldn't tell anyone," she said once.

Hope. Perhaps that was what she was fighting for. Your train of thought broke as you saw her shifting her arm. You took Natalia to a room that wasn't being used and sat her down on a chair. As you moved to inspect the misplaced bone, the Soldier opened the door to the room.

"Soldier. I heard something in this room. Report," he said.

Damn his serum. Yours wasn't as powerful.

"Natalia is wounded."

He looked behind him into the hallway and shut the door behind him, taking long strides to where you both were. He wasn't wearing his usual clothing, but a sweater over a shirt and more comfortable pants instead. He pulled his sweater over his head and bundled it up, putting it in front of Natalia's face.

"Bite into it," he ordered.

"It's fine, my pain tolerance is high," she said.

"You're a child. You can grab my arm if needed."

He held it up to her face, and she grumbled as she did as he told. You held her arm, looking to at the Soldier for approval. When he nodded, you pushed her arm back into place. As expected, Natalia screamed into the Soldier's sweater and held tight onto his metal arm with her other hand. It took a few moments for her to calm down after he pulled his sweater away.

"Natalia, how is it now?" you asked.

"The truth," the Soldier added.

"It's a bit sore but nothing sleep can't fix," she promised.

You held your arm out for her to grab and pulled her up from her seated position. The Soldier's metal arm pulled away from Natalia's grip and the other arm pressed into her shoulder to check it.

"We're counting on you. Survive," the Soldier said, and left.

Of course you were both hoping for Natalia to make it. The fact that he knew what you were thinking almost threw you off, but you were a trained soldier, and surprise was not supposed to be something you experienced. The smallest bit of compassion from the Soldier made you wonder if there was more of that from him. He was the only person consistent to your life, and he was the one thing you could rely on to be there even when you forgot things. The next wipe couldn't erase the memory of helping Natalia with the Winter Soldier. At least that was something you remembered.

The new century brought more radical ideas. HYDRA hated them, claiming that they were the supreme leaders of the world, and no one should be thinking such ideas. You only understood that it was your duty to follow. The Winter Soldier started to behave unpredictably, escaping from his handlers during missions and sometimes taking you with him. He'd have moments of muttering to himself and headaches where he just clutched his head and whispered to himself. It wasn't unlike your own, where you would constantly ask, "What did I forget? How could I forget?" You once overheard someone dressed in a lab coat say that it was the result of wiping memories. It was normal.

On one mission, he asked, "Who the hell is Bucky?" You had no answer. That was the last time you saw him in HYDRA.

Your handlers told you that HYDRA was destroyed by the Avengers. They'd have to build again, but now without any foundation. They said that the Asset was their greatest weapon, and, if their enemies had him, there would be no more HYDRA. So they gave you a mission that gave you only one chance: kill the Winter Soldier.

You were a good soldier. You had trained for years and you had trained with him. No matter what you went through over the years with the Soldier, you had to complete your mission. His death did not matter to you. Or, at least, it shouldn't have.

You kept track of him for a long time. One of his first actions was going to a museum that held a memorial for one of the Avengers. You went inside yourself one day, finding a man from the 1940's who looked just like him alongside the Avenger. He looked more carefree in the older photos, and looked less haunted like the Soldier did now. It was a handsome face, and one that you could not care for.

Every time you were on a rooftop pointing a sniper straight at his head, you found yourself unable to pull the trigger. After two weeks, HYDRA pulled you back, saying he was too well-known, and HYDRA did not have the resources to hide a death like his. Everyone was looking for him, and if he died by HYDRA's hands, it would no longer exist.

It took more than a year for the next time he was mentioned again. He had made contact with Captain America, both of whom were now refugees on the run from the nation itself. You wondered if you would have been like one of them if HYDRA had been truly destroyed.

Its foundations were weak and constantly falling apart. Someone was always dying, and no one knew who was doing the killing. You suspected Natalia had been doing it, but said nothing. After all, she was a grown woman now. Somewhere deep down, you were impressed that she had made such a big name for herself but still managed to kill under the radar. The Soldier likely would have thought the same.

At this point, him being a refugee was the perfect time for him to die, according to HYDRA. Giving the world control over these "superheroes" would align with HYDRA's ideas. For once, some of the Avengers were in agreement. Removing the Captain's main driving factor, his "James Buchanan Barnes," would further push the Sokovia Accords. You returned to your previous unfinished mission.

It was another few weeks of following the Soldier. He seemed less like you. He was different from the Soldier you knew, and emotions tore him apart sometimes. You saw him having more of his fits, but he had Steve Rogers to depend on. They were frequently close together, and you were angry seeing them like that. You were once on the Soldier's side, the person he was meant to depend on. What changed? Why did you have to kill him now?

When you had your first chance, you finally pulled the trigger. Dread suddenly took over part of you, but a metal arm flung up to stop the bullet, and the Soldier glared through the hole in the glass. You knew he could probably see your silhouette, but you were too far to catch. He knew you were trying to kill him now. Leaving now meant that he could escape, and maybe even far enough that you couldn't follow. You supposed you'd have to meet him in the middle. A packed sniper on your back and running across the roofs of the European city had you facing him, your gun pointed at his head and his metal arm at the ready.

"Look, we don't need to fight. Whoever sent you to kill me, tell them I won't kill another innocent again," he pleaded.

"I think that's the problem," you muttered, and a shot rang out.

Something else knocked the bullet off course this time, the accuracy and strength too much to be human.

"Steve Rogers," you stated. "This is not your fight."

"No, this is no one's fight," the Soldier said. "Who are you? Why are you here?"

Your mask was similar to his before he escaped HYDRA. You reached up with the hand not holding the gun and pulled it off. His eyes widened in recognition.

"They said you need to die. I'm supposed to be the one to do it," you said.

Your gun was no longer useful, so you dropped it and charged at the Captain, knocking him off balance so you could get to the Soldier. You threw punches and your entire torso into it, but the Soldier was on the defensive and blocked every single thing you threw at him.

"(Y/N)!" the Captain shouted behind you.

You whipped around glaring at him.

"Who the hell is (Y/N)?" you asked.

You felt a throbbing in your head and dropped to your knees as you clutched your temples.

Who the hell is Bucky?

"Who... who is Bucky?!" you growled, then turned on the Soldier. "You are a traitor! You need to die!"

"(Y/N), I'm Bucky. I'm your friend. We did missions together but we were forced to. You're being brainwashed by HYDRA. It's not you," the Soldier said.

His words sounded like a promise. It felt like you sat there for an hour, his hand on your back in comfort. Your head was still throbbing, but you managed to open your mouth again.

"I wasn't in the museum," you said.

"No, you weren't," Bucky quietly replied. "Do you know why?"

"We had to hide, right? There was something I felt, right here, whenever we were together, before you left."

Your hand patted your chest, and you looked up at him through watery eyes.

"Who am I?"

———

The Second World War

Bucky was dead.

That was what they told his family. You had to hear from his mother, who was the only one who knew about your relationship. You bonded with the rest of his family, mourning together when they learned that you both had loved each other. Then Captain America died, and everything got worse. Two of your closest friends had died in close succession, and one was a supersoldier. He wasn't supposed to die. You vowed to take down those who had killed them.

You sent a letter to Dr. Erskine, who Bucky once mentioned in one of his letters. You asked to help him in the war, telling him that both heroes who died were your friends and you would take their place in fighting for the war effort. Instead, Margaret Carter responded, telling you that Dr. Erskine had been in an accident a few months prior, and sent someone to bring you to a bunker where she was currently working.

Together you found places where HYDRA was hiding, different areas all around the world. You quickly learned the strategies needed to fight them on the battlefield and behind the scenes out of necessity. The first time you were on the field, you had no idea it would be your last. The rest of your group had been killed. You were captured and brought down deep into the quieter, darker confines of the bunker. Because you were already wounded, fighting would have done little for your situation. It was clear they wanted you alive.

"So nice to finally meet you. Your... friend has spoken of you," said the stranger you were placed in front of. "We have heard that you are the best in strategy. Hopefully your removal will prevent more of our branches being taken apart. You work for us now."

"What friend?"

"Your boyfriend."

His tone was hateful and goading you to become angry. You said nothing. They wouldn't give you information. If he was alive and in HYDRA's hands, you couldn't save him anymore.

"You will be moved soon for... recalibration. Take our newest recruit to experimentation."

You fought, but to no avail.

———

You found yourself in the room that you had just shot a bullet into. The sun was already up, and the Captain and the Winter Soldier stood next to each other in the very small kitchen area. The Soldier leaned with his back to the wall as he spoke with the Captain quietly, though it sounded like a disagreement.

"So are we supposed to go to Wakanda now? If they have anything to help me, how do we know if (Y/N) wants that help too?"

"All I'm saying is that it's our best chance. And if he doesn't want the help, at least we're here if he needs us. And I know how much he meant to you before... everything. I know he still means something to you now."

They looked over as you sat up, leaning against the wall behind you. The Soldier walked over and held out a hand to steady you. You nodded to give him permission.

"You're burning up. I don't think your body is agreeing with remembering things. It wasn't as bad for me but I think the serum did more for me than you."

"Just like alcohol," you muttered. "Watered down."

The Captain smiled, "Glad to see you still have a sense of humour. And it's just as bad."

You were too weak to stand up, much less throw a punch at his stupid insulting face. The Soldier laid you back down.

"We're leaving soon. You'll be resting the whole way, but we'll keep an eye on you."

It sounded like a promise, and you believed him.

When you woke again, it was in a small jet. Bucky sat next to you, his hand grasping yours. Your first instinct was to fight, but Bucky's hand seemed to ground you.

"Take it easy. We're in the quinjet and flying to Wakanda. It was a hidden society in Africa with technology beyond anything else in the world. We're hoping they can help Bucky from reacting to the trigger words that HYDRA brainwashed him with," Steve said. "Same with you."

He helped you sit up when you didn't seem to want to fight anymore. For the first time, you felt like you were relaxed. No handlers were keeping an eye on you, and you were alone with two people you could barely remember, but they just seemed like people you didn't need to fight for once.

"I'm Bucky, and that's Steve. We were born decades ago, and the world war separated us all from each other. You and I were controlled by Nazis, and Steve was found a few years ago. You weren't supposed to be in the war."

He looked solemn, and Steve gave him a reassuring smile. You watched both of them carefully.

"Keep talking, Buck. Is there anything else you remember?" Steve asked.

"When we were seeing Stark's demonstration of his flying car, I took you and (Y/N) with me. We'd gone with some girls, and two were a couple, so we could all be on a date without getting in trouble for it. Well, except for you. No offence, Steve. Didn't mean to make you a third wheel."

"None taken. I don't think any of us were really third wheels. We were best friends, and you and (Y/N) were together. And I became friends with him after."

"Aw, we're not best friends anymore?"

"You'll always be my best friend, Buck. 'Till the end of the line."

"End of the line."

You muttered, "That's so cheesy."

"Yeah, and you know what weird thing you'd say with Bucky?" Steve teased.

"I'd punch a Nazi before admitting that I love you," you recited.

"And you've punched ten," Bucky said with a fond smile. "Probably more by now."

"I'm not the same person I was before, Bucky," you said. "You're not either, but you've remembered more than I have. I don't feel like a blank slate, but I don't feel like I need to... kill you. And I don't want to."

"Everything feels like it's closing in on you all the time, right?" Bucky asked. "Like you don't know where to go, and the people you think you can trust are going to be your next enemy?"

You nodded.

"That's how I felt, too. But you trusted me before HYDRA, and you trusted me during it. If we both can get through that together, we can get through this too."

You lightly squeezed his hand.

"Yeah, maybe."

———

They couldn't help, so Bucky wanted to go under cryostasis. He felt that it was dangerous for him to be conscious. You almost thought that it was a good idea for yourself too, but you took one look at the goat currently nibbling at your shirt and felt that you still needed some time to yourself being out of HYDRA's control. Bucky gave you a hug before he stepped into the chamber, and you stayed in each other's embrace for a long time. It was the safest you remembered feeling. Steve looked at the chamber, troubled. He turned away when Bucky was inside, and you placed your hand on his shoulder in understanding. Steve didn't like the cold, and seeing his friend in the same position was painful.

The Wakandans provided for you. You worked on a farm in near solitude, the occasional patrol guards making sure that you were safe and the goats giving you a friendship you didn't know existed. Shuri worked hard on finding a cure for the both of you, and she and her brother came to see you a few times. They were both good friends to you, but T'Challa liked the goats more than Shuri did. She was too busy talking about her new inventions to spend too much time with the goats. She'd come to you with ideas about Bucky's new metal arm, asking about your own experience with the serum to get an idea of his strength and abilities.

Their technology was groundbreaking, and they managed to find a way to remove the effects of brainwashing from the mind. By the time Bucky was out of cryostasis, they'd already finished the procedure on you. You had offered to be their first in case they made a mistake, hoping that if you didn't make it, Bucky would. As all things in Wakanda worked, it was flawless. Bucky found out about what you had said when Shuri had mentioned it in passing. He was angry at first, but cooled down once he saw you. He said that it was so much like you to do something like that for the people you cared most about.

You didn't feel much different from before, but you were remembering things with less effort. Your experience in HYDRA, though terrifying, was one that you saw from your own eyes. It felt like somebody else's. Shuri assured you that it was not you, and everything that you could do under your own control was who you were. You stayed by Bucky's side until he needed to have the procedure as well. He came back to you looking relaxed, even without an arm, as if the world was revolving around him. Then you spent about an hour listening to Shuri rant about her technology, which T'Challa had to cut in to explain issues regarding the nations outside of Wakanda and the politics surrounding your situation. He finished with letting you both know that Wakanda was always open to you.

Shuri said that she still had a "broken white boy's arm" to fix, and that if either of you left, she'd hunt you down herself.

For the first time since Bucky was out of the chamber, he spoke: "Do you remember Natalia? She's Natasha now."

"Yes, and I think she's grown up well. When we fixed her arm, that was when I knew that you were just a little bit human."

He was quiet for a bit, and his hand reached out for yours. You met in the middle.

"I think we need to learn about each other again," he said, his hand clenching yours.

"Well, I think you should meet the goats first."

He loved the goats.

He loved the farm you worked on. It was big, but worked for you as someone with super serum. Bucky enjoyed working on it too, saying it was a good way to get out his energy. But mostly he played with the goats.

Bucky was better now than how you remembered him in the past. He was understanding of what you both had gone through and it was easy to communicate with him, even when neither of you wanted to speak. There was no disconnect from the Bucky then and Bucky now. It was just him. He was exactly what you needed in the past and he was what you needed in the present.

You finished pulling out weeds from the last area of the farm, checking for any diseased plants as you went. You looked up, and found Bucky feeding some of the weeds to the goats that had run up to him. They nibbled at his fingers, and he laughed as he sat on the ground to pet every single one of their heads. His hair was pulled back in a bun and the cloth he wore was saturated in the sun's glare. You picked up the weeds you had pulled, which weren't many because you worked on the farm all the time, and headed over to him. He smiled as you pulled him up from the pile of goats.

"Are we going to the market now?" he asked.

"I think I'm ready to admit that I love you," you said.

Bucky's eyebrows furrowed, then his face lit into a bright smile.

"How many Nazis have you punched?" he joked.

"Depends on how many we meet," you replied. "Did you know there are people called 'neo-Nazis'? For every single one of them we meet that I don't punch is a day that I don't love you."

"Is that a promise?"

"Of course."

"Then I promise that I'll always love you. And I'll tell you for as long as you need me to."

You both headed to the road that led into the more populated towns, hand in hand as you walked up the hill.

"I never believed in soulmates," Bucky began as he shifted to intertwine his fingers with yours, "but I think this is the closest I'll ever find. We've been there for each other when we needed each other most, and I want our future to be the same."

You didn't answer, stopping to pull him into a kiss instead. He returned it with just as much enthusiasm. When you were called to fight a world-threatening event, you were finally ready, and you did it together.