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dancingwiththeplanets · 3 years

Text

Relief

Paz Vizsla x fem!reader

masterlist

Summary: “I know that we’re strangers but something really awful has happened to me and I need you.”

A/N: highly recommend listening to “everything i wanted” by billie eilish before reading because that is just the vibe.

Warnings: angst, ruminating, lots of dialogue, mourning the death of a parent, deals with depression and anxiety, soft!paz, a big brute with an even bigger heart

Word Count: 11k (oops)

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“Death changes people, it brings some people together, pushes other people apart...” You remember your buir’s words as if they were spoken to you just yesterday. They were the words he said on the day of your mothers funeral. “...but you and I, we do not let such things hurt us. We are stronger together, my ad’ika, we can only get through this together. Yes?”

“Okay, buir.” You said. Your wide, 5 year old eyes not fully comprehending the situation.

He nodded, pained, and whispered, “That’s a good girl,” before leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead and departing to the ceremony, your small form in tow.

He was right, death did change people. You remember seeing him in pure agony, as much as he tried to hide it from you. Your aunts and uncles would always be over, consoling him, distracting you, oftentimes just having you stay with them so your father could grieve away from your eyes.

But he never let it hurt your relationship. No, he was the best buir anyone could dream of. Your buir.

He was a proud man, respected and admired by all the warriors in the covert. Fierce, honorable, diligent and selfless. He would and did do anything for anyone. And the tribe respected him immensely. They even elected for him to be the Alor on more than one occasion, and he practically was. But he refused the title again and again, preferring to do all the work without carrying any official status. Even so, he certainly inherited the same amount of respect that the actual Alor had.

“All of the privilege and none of the responsibility.” He would tease, winking at you as the two of you would sneak out of the kitchens or any other ‘off-limits’ part of the covert, everyone turning a blind eye to your buir and ad’ika antics. Mainly just because they respected him too much to chastise you.

Truly though, he was a very respectable man. He trained the little ones, led hunts and security protocols for the covert, found lost Mandalorians and brought them home to the tribe. He dedicated his life to building the strongest and most operational covert that Mandalorians had seen in years. And he did it all for you. All so that you would have a safe place to grow up, so that you would lose as few brothers and sisters, and as few aunts and uncles as possible. So that you wouldn’t lose anyone just as suddenly as you’d lost your mother.

But he never prepared you for the day you would lose him.

The two of you were unimaginably close, so close that now you regretted ever developing a relationship that strong with him even if he was your father, because look at what it got you.

How were you supposed to go on? What was your life without your buir? What was this covert without your buir?

You look around the room, dozens and dozens of armored warriors here to pay their respects to your father, his body already having been buried. The tears leak out of your eyes without reserve as you hold tightly to your friend's hand, scanning the room for the comfort of your boyfriend. “He’ll be here soon” She whispers, though you sense doubt in her voice, “I’m sure of it.”

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You’re not sure what time it is, only that you’ve spent yet another restless night collecting tears in your pillow. Your booted feet pad down the deserted hallway of the covert. It’s aboveground, hidden beneath the treelines of a dense forest on a nearly desolate planet. It’s beautiful, unlike most every other secret covert that exists, though very few do. It has bulletproof glass paneling all around to allow for light to peek in through the trees. It’s warm and inviting instead of cold and gloomy.

“We need a home. Not a prison.” Buir had said.

You wince, face contorting in pain at the memory of him sharing the design with you. He had a dream. He wanted to live the way he used to, on Mandalore. Embracing nature and training warriors in the traditional way. He wanted your small tribe to grow into the hundreds. And that it did, well, to just over a hundred at least.

The most recent tribe came in from Nevarro, about seven months ago. He’d managed to track them down and get into contact with their Alor. Though some members of their tribe were reluctant to merge- they always are- they soon decided to join forces with your own, strengthening your numbers. Plus, they got to move to a much more beautiful, safe, and spacious planet.

Regrettably, you hadn’t gotten to know many members of the new tribe still. They were...different. Still pleasant from the interactions you’d had with them at least, good sense of humor and all, but they were devoted to the old ways of Mandalore, conservative, reserved, passionate. Most unusually they didn’t arrive with any women in their tribe, aside from their Alor. For some reason odd, universal reason, Mandalorian women were hard to come by. It was a troubling issue that distressed many people in the tribe, in any tribe. It felt like a curse on your people. But this tribe literally had only one. They obviously cherished and admired her immensely, they made her their Alor.

Also, their creed didn’t allow for them to remove their helmets, a drastic difference from the one you had sworn that didn’t even require you wear your armor all the time, though you and most everyone almost always did. You were still Mandalorian; Training, honor, armor...they were still as big a part of you as your soul was to your body. But everyone around here knew your face, and vice versa, even if you did spend most of your life behind the shield.

This week however, you couldn't bring yourself to put it on once. Hell, you didn’t even bother with your flight suit. You just stayed locked up in your tiny room all day and night, only leaving when you were forced out by your friends. “It’s for your own good,” they would say. You suppose they were right, but no matter how good of friends they were to you right now, their company seemed to make it all worse.

A part of you wanted Collin, your boyfriend of two years, but he seemed to disappear from sight every time you caught his eye, an action that made your friend, Brie, chase after him in a rage the last time. He had been so blatantly obvious. You were in tears, yet again, mourning your father, yet again, when you caught the flash of his grey armor slip past your crying form in the common room. The hurt you had felt was unimaginable. The betrayal. You know that your relationship was strained as of late, but this, the death of your father, how could he not be around for you? Even if just as a friend?

So here you were. Another sleepless night, another late hour gone by without the noisy comfort of the of the tribe at work. Your head was pounding from the tears, the dehydration and the pain. The kriffing pain.

This time you couldn’t do it. You couldn't stay trapped within the dark walls of your room any longer, quickly pulling on something decent to wear in the late night or early hours of the morning- you didn’t know what time it was- before mindlessly wandering the covert.

Empty. It must be smack in the middle of the night. Well, at least you could sulk freely, allow the tears to escape without worrying about what a blubbering mess you must look like. A part of you was thankful, this was...kind of nice? There was nobody hovering around you. No visors following your every move in pity or concern, waiting to catch you when you break. You did pass one or two guards patrolling the halls, but you avoided them as best you could, hoping to avoid being questioned.

You finally take a moment to sit, hiding yourself beside some phony shrub in the corner. You’ve wandered to the dining hall. You look around, hoping to distract yourself with the silent chatter of the five or so warriors lounging around, probably on break from late night duties. Your eyes finally resting on a group of three of your vods sitting around, talking. They’re from the new tribe, well, most recently new.

You don’t know any of them particularly well, least of all the heavy infantry warrier whose figure commands your attention. He spends most of his time with the higher ups or teaching the foundlings, and you fall somewhere there in the middle. But he’s broad and robust and by maker if he doesn't captivate your attention.

You listen to the quiet echoes bouncing around the spacious dining hall. There’s hardly anybody here, it must be so early. You groan, to you it just feels unbearably late.

You don’t know how long you sit here, hidden behind the leaves of the plant, hazy eyes focused on the blue warrior. You just sit, staring, he’s...peaceful to observe. His arms are crossed over his chest, leaned back comfortably against his chair. He huffs at something one of his brothers says, you can barely hear it, but you see the shake of his shoulders before he adjusts his posture and a small smile pulls at your own lips for some reason.

You shake your head. Is this wrong? You think, averting your eyes away from Paz’s form. You feel guilty for some reason, you mind reminding you of Collin. The guilt impacts you painfully for a moment, adding to the feelings of loss and exhaustion before you shake the thoughts away.

No. You think, eyes squeezing shut at the new wave of emotion hurting your already distraught mind. I’m just people watching. Not admiring. This is allowed. This actually feels...kind of nice, it’s allowed.

You permit your gaze to return to Paz and his friends, watching them nod at another couple of Mandos who pass by.

There was something so...comforting about Paz. You don't even know how you can think that? You don’t know him.

You watch his attention shift to his boots which are sprawled out in front of him, heels resting on the hard floor. He kicks his feet out a little bit, watching them wiggle from their movements. His action again tugging the teeniest of smiles to your lips.

You feel a small and brief glimmer of warmth in your chest, though quickly replaced by a pain that pinches from your gut to the back of your throat. Tears gloss over your vision before you’re able to fight them away with slow, deep breaths. It feels as though your body is chastising you for daring to feel a degree of happiness so suddenly.

No. You cower away from the invisible being hurting you, eyes squinting shut again.

You yearn for the slight relief and warmth to return. You need it. It just...feels so damn hard to breathe like this.

The anxiety, the fear, the distress. It just won’t leave you alone.

You don’t even realize what you’re doing until you’re already out in the open. You’d abruptly stood from your hiding spot and started walking toward the source of relief, before nearly choking on air realizing what you were doing.

Holy shit, you gasp, It’s too late to stop walking. You’re already out in the open, and you’ve made it well into their field of vision. If you stop, they’ll notice you.

Kriff, kriff, kriff, kriff, kriff.

The anxiety is burning in your chest again. Your steps falter before you stop, you’re not even sure what you’re doing anymore.

What you do know is that now you’ve caught the attention of the Mando sitting next to Paz, whose visor now watches your frozen form in the middle of the hall. Your heart beating loudly in your chest as you stand there motionless, eyes wide and breathing faltering at having been detected.

You must look absolutely deranged.

But of course, it had to get worse. Noticing the stillness of their friend, the other two shift their attention to see what’s silenced him.

Three visors. There are now three visors on you. Staring down your shaky, frozen form.

You can’t walk this off, you can’t play it cool. They’re already looking at you, you’ve stood still here now watching them for now who knows how long.

What do you do?

Kriff.

You recoil slightly, crossing your now shaking hands in front of you, hoping they wouldn’t notice your trembling palms.

What the hell is wrong with you? Relax. You’re a Mandalorian, just think.

What is the least horrible way out of this?

Carry it out. Whatever it was that you were doing, whatever mission your subconscious had led you on, just execute it.

You breathe in a shuddery breath, placing one foot out in their direction and hesitating before allowing the other to follow its movements.

Geez, walk much?

It’s so quiet in the empty hall, only 5 or 6 other Mandos out on the other end, so each tap of your feet is as audible as that of a bantha on crackling ice as you make your way to them.

“Okay, vod’ika?” One of them asks kindly. You recognize the maroon helmet from up close. Ramsey?

Ramsey, you think.

You nod slightly, suddenly remembering how out of it you must look. Eyes puffy and red, lips swollen, hair in disarray. You feel even more anxious to desert the mission than before, resigning to just get it over with and face the object of your desire.

“Paz,” you say, internally groaning at how pathetic and fatigued your voice sounds. “May I please speak with you for a moment?”

Kriff, what’s the plan now, di’kut?

The question directed at him takes him aback, but his posture instantly straightens. “Of course,” He says, rising from his seat.

You blink back a little as he stands to his full height. Have you ever been this close to him? Surely not, you would remember the feeling of being towered over like this. Paz hesitates, waiting for your instruction. Osik, were you just brazenly sizing him up right there? Great, and now he must think you’re intimidated by him.

Abort, abort, abort.

He tilts his helmet at you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You move for him to follow, which he does. You try to move as far away from the others as possible without being terribly obvious in hopes that they won’t overhear your conversation.

“Is.. everything alright?” He asks once you’ve guided him a safe distance away.

“Yes.” You say instantly, eyes locked on your hands. “I-I mean, n-no.”

This is weird.

What have you done?

You force your gaze up to meet his, noticing his visor tilt in concern. He no doubt already knows what’s troubling you. Everybody in the covert knows about your father’s passing, there was a ceremony for kriffs sake. Paz was probably there.

Your lip trembles suddenly, embarrassed, and instantly you’re cursing yourself for having put yourself through this. With everything in you, you squeeze your eyes shut and look down, the only way you know you’ll be able to ward off the tears, though you know your conduct is a dead giveaway as to what you’re trying to do.

He says your name, and there it is again, relief. Fleeting and short-lived, but making that one small breath easier to inhale than the rest.

“I’m so sorry,” You whisper in frustration. Opening your eyes to see his feet having moved closer to you than they were before.

Always concerned with the wellbeing of his tribe. You remember. That’s what this big brute is known for anyway, right? You can trust him.

“No,” He says, his tone soft spoken, a sharp contrast to his intimidating form. “Take your time.”

You take a deep breath, nodding your head at the floor before forcing your eyes up once again.

Always maintain eye contact. It’s a show of respect. And you always show your superiors that you respect them. Your dad's words remind you to keep your head level to Paz’s. Or...at least as level as it can be to Paz’s.

The reminder that you are indeed speaking to an alor’ad stirs up new nerves in your belly, you were falling apart in front of a captain. Worse, a Vizsla, Mandalorian royalty.

“Um,” you eventually sputter out, collecting your thoughts. “Well I...I kind of have a weird request.” Your murmur.

Are you going to faint? It feels like you’re going to faint.

“Okay,” He nods to indicate you have his full attention, “What is it?”

“Um,” Your voice wavers, suddenly feeling very shaky and lightheaded again, and incredibly annoyed that you didn’t just opt to put on your helmet for the sake of hiding your face. Only...it makes it really hard to breathe when you already feel like you can’t get enough air. And pulling it off every five minutes to clean your face of newly gathered tears was difficult.

He says your name again, this time slowly raising a hand to your shoulder. You exhale in relief when you’re met by his touch. “Hey,” He says, “It’s okay, what do you need?”

You take another calming breath, soothed by the weight of his hand that hasn’t left your shoulder. “Well first, are-are you busy today?”

What a stupid question, you think. He ranks high up in the chain of command, of course he’s busy. Not to mention, it’s probably, what, 5 a.m. right now? And he’s sitting in the dining hall. He certainly didn’t wake up this early because he didn’t have something to do.

“Not at all.” He assures with a shake of his helmet.

Sure.

You dismiss the obvious lie, staring his blue visor straight on. You can see your pathetic, teary-eyed reflection staring back at you in the space where his eyes would be.

He wants you to tell him what’s wrong, you remind yourself, just do it.

Using what remaining courage you have, you open your mouth to speak. “I...I know you don’t know me that well. I don’t really...know you either. I-I don't even know why I’m here asking you this right now. But, um, my-” you choke on your words, confidence diminishing “-my dad is dead, and I’m hurting and afraid and feeling completely unlike myself. I don’t know when the last time I slept was or if I’ve eaten anything in the last couple of days. I just know that-that something really awful has happened to me and I know y-you and I we-we’re practically strangers but right now I just n-need someone and I r-really want that person to be you-”

You hadn’t even realized the flood of tears gushing down your cheeks or the defeated sobs suddenly shaking your body until you were pulled into a pair of arms, his arms.

Strong, protective, shielding arms.

You hear the gentle sounds of Paz shooshing you, his hand pressed to the back of your head and cradling you in a comforting manner.

“I’ve got you, cyar’ika.” He hums, voice light and sweet like honey.

You almost don't mind the heavy sobs racking your body for a moment.

Sweetheart. He called you sweetheart.

You feel his body stir above you, either looking around or else...motioning something to someone. “Hey,” He whispers, keeping your head tucked into his arm, “Come over here with me.”

He guides you away from the dining hall where no doubt, despite your best efforts, whoever was in there had both seen and heard you throw your fit. At the very least catching your sobs at the end.

Ushering you around the corner to an empty hallway, he helps you down on a bench, sitting next to you. Your sobs slowly subsiding to small sniffles under the gloved hand moving soothing circles up and down your back.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, allowing you time to gather yourself. Once the wobbliness in your breathing evens out to a calmer, drawn out, pace, he asks again, “What can I do, vod’ika? I’ll help you, just tell me what you need?”

You nod your head, electing not to rub the abused skin around your eyes that was being continuously irritated by tears. “Could you maybe, stay with me today?” You ask timidly.

“Yes,” He responds instantly, “Yes, of course. Wh-what would you like to do? How can we...divert your attention?” He attempts to sidetrack the word distract, acknowledging that his word choice probably doesn’t make much a difference. “Is there anything on your agenda today?”

“N-no.” You sniff. “All my responsibilities this week were redistributed to other people. I have nothing to do.”

He hums, considering your words.

“But um,” you offer, “I suppose it would be good to take a shower.” You chuckle lifelessly, tugging at the unwashed ends of your hair.

You see his form tense beside you, and your eyes widen in horror in realising your error.

“O-oh maker, no. I was kidding, cause I’m a mess and all that’s - kriff - that’s not at all what I was insinuating-” You panic, fumbling for words.

He chuckles lowly beside you, raising a hand up to ease your stammering, “No, it’s okay. I understand. Allow me to...escort you then?”

“To the-” You swallow, cheeks no doubt pinkened by the encounter, “You really don’t have to I wasn’t seri-”

“Self-care is important.” He says, rising to his feet. “It’s the start of a new day, and it’s early enough that you’ll likely have the entire washroom to yourself. C’mon,” He extends an arm out to you. You contemplate taking it for a moment, briefly, again, considering Collin.

Who isn’t here.

“Really?” You ask, stunned both by his willingness to wait outside the washroom while you shower and his consideration of your privacy.

He lifts his elbow again in response. You rise from your seated position, hand hesitantly grabbing a hold of his arm as he lowers it back towards his side, making the gesture less obvious to prying eyes.

You hold onto the crease of his elbow, your other hand mindlessly joining your other so that you practically hang onto him. He tugs you forward, and you begin walking at a comfortable pace.

“Thank you,” You say, sounding stunned again. “I...I can’t imagine that when you woke up this morning you thought you’d be babysitting a stranger.” You mumble, embarrassed.

He huffs, “You are not a stranger,” then he says your name, again. Honey, pure honey.

“You are a member of my tribe,” He continues, “Even though we do not know each other well, I still care about you.”

You blink back your surprise at his words. This man truly is honorable. Caring and considerate and selfless. A big brute with an even bigger heart. You can’t stop yourself from looking up at him, nearly gaping at his words. “You care about me?” You ask.

He hums, looking at your wide eyes staring up at him.

“You don’t even know me.” You mutter as he looks away. You can’t possibly care about someone who you don’t know.

“I’m observant.”

You hesitate, feeling another foreign feeling flutter in your belly.

“Observant?” You challenge.

His visor looks back down at you, your puffy eyes swimming with curiosity. You want him to prove it.

He takes a tentative breath, hoping you’ll allude his suspiciously observant behaviors of you with the fact that he was trained to be hyper aware of his surroundings. He speaks slowly, “Your favorite food is vegetable pie, probably because it’s a main course, but also sweet. You like to busy yourself with your hands, often tinkering with whatever small, broken objects you manage to find around the covert. Every morning, you head to the training room early to run your own drills and stretch before everyone else arrives. You have a boyfriend, Collin I believe, who you like to align your chores with so you can do them together, except for cleaning the kitchens, which you always try to switch off with somebody else.”

Your eyes stare unblinkingly at his profile. “How-how do you know that?”

“Because kitchen duty is always crossed out under your name on the chores chart, and a different chore is always handwritten underneath.” He says, unable to contain an amused laugh. He opts to only remark on the last of his observations.

You slow to a stop, feeling suddenly incredibly ashamed. “Wow,” You say in admiration. “I-”

You can’t think of anything to say in response, you don’t know anything about him. And here he was telling you that not only does he care for you simply as a member of his tribe, but he actually knows things about you.

You’re overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness, “Paz- I’m...I’m ashamed to say that I don’t even know what your favorite color is.”

He barks out a laugh, surprising you. “Are you concerned with what my favorite color is, cyar’ika?”

“Yes.” You answer, perhaps a silly amount of gravity. “Upon hearing all the things you know about me that most others don't, I mean I’m...I’m touched Paz.”

His tilts his head, visor lingering on your face a moment, and you’re sure that while it was a somewhat silly conversation, he can see the annoying little pools of water that gathered in your eyes again.

He’s silent for a moment. “My favorite color is brown,” He says.

“Brown.” You reflect.

He nods, “It’s warm, soothing.”

“Okay,” You say, hand reaching for his elbow again. “Brown. I’ll remember that.” You squeeze his sleeve in promise.

“I’m sure you will,” He smiles. Or at least you think he does. It sure sounds like he does.

You continue walking on in silence, only passing one other vod in the spacious hall. You’re fairly certain that the Mando approaching does a double take as he sees you clinging to the heavy infantry warrior, but Paz just gives him a nod as you pass in silence. It’s still terribly early. Or late, to you at least. For it to be early you would have had to have slept in the first place.

Your pace is slow, and you wonder if Paz notices the utter exhaustion plaguing your body.

Oh. He must, you think upon catching a reflection of yourself.

Kriff, you look about as good as you feel.

He stops outside your room so you could run in and bag some clothes, before you venture down to the washrooms. You walk comfortably in silence, despite having enjoyed some distracting conversation with him, it feels like the most you’ve spoken all week, and it was tiring, though not unpleasant.

“Could I, ask you something?” He hesitates, clearing his throat. Noting that you keep your eyes glued to the space in front of your feet. “Where is your...uh, Collin?”

He should be doing this. Paz reflects. Taking care of you.

You raise your eyebrows at the floor. “Sleeping I’m sure.”

“Well yes,” He says, “But why hasn’t he been, you know...around?”

His brows furrow at his own words. Well done Paz, you di’kut. First the poor girl’s dad dies, then you offend her by asking why her boyfriend hasn’t been taking care of her. Let alone the fact that you just made it known you’ve noticed his absence. That did not come out at all how he wanted it to.

He’s surprised by a little laugh emitting from your lips. Small and half-hearted and barely audible, but by maker if even then it isn’t one of the prettiest sounds he ever heard.

“Cause..” you sigh, searching for the answer. “-cause he’s an asshole.” You mutter, blunt as the truth leaves your lips.

Oh.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have overstepped-”

“It’s okay,” you mumble, “what’s one more thing in my life..”

Paz is silent for a moment. You’re surprised your eyes haven't welled with tears again. Lately it seems like they prefer looking through a blurry lens rather than a clear one. But maybe a part of you expected this with Collin. Your relationship isn’t what it used to be. For the last six months it seems as though his interest in you has slowly diminished. It takes having something fun and interesting for him to seem excited about spending time with you. Cause maker forbid anytime you try to just sit and hang out with him you enjoy yourselves, he’s always got some excuse on hand to get him out of it.

“No,” Paz insists, interrupting your ruminations. “I’m sorry. Perhaps he thought space is what you wanted?”

I think space is what he wanted.

You don’t answer, arriving to the washrooms. Being the only two people in at this hour, the echo of his heavy armor clinks around the wide space. You pass door after door of the enormous shower rooms. Kriff, this is weird. Why was the first thing you thought of when he asked you what you would normally do to shower? I mean sure that was true, but certainly you could have forgone this item on your agenda for the sake of being...proper?

You glance at your passing figure in a mirror and flinch.

Although.

Maybe you...need a shower.

You must have showered within the last few days, right?

“Okay,” Paz says, breaking the silence. “I’ll wait out here.” He says, standing in the communal space with sinks and benches. “You just, take your time vod’ika. Let the water...freshen you up or, soothe you or..some shit.”

Your frown abruptly turns into a wide smile as you giggle.

Victory. He thinks.

His breath hitches behind his own helmet. Kriff, you have a lovely smile. How had he never noticed your smile before?

“Thank you, Paz.” You say, retreating to a random facility and briskly closing the door.

You lean against the door once it’s shut, the ghost of a smile still on your cheeks.

He’s really just going to stand out there. Just so that you know he’s there, that you’re not alone.

“Wow.” You whisper, soaking in the warm feeling in your stomach. It feels like forever since you’ve felt that, giddiness.

You move to turn on the water, slowly stripping yourself of your clothes. You were still wearing your nightshirt from your fruitless sleep endeavors. It was nothing indecent, just a plain, black, elbow-length shirt. Luckily, you had had enough sense in you to pull on a sports bra before you abandoned any notions of sleep, lazily just slipping on some green cargo pants over your leggings before wandering aimlessly through the covert.

You look comfortable but...certainly not like a fierce Mandalorian.

You try your hardest to wash the gloom off your face, focusing your attention on the mission at hand in hopes of keeping distracted. Now you remember why you’d been putting off showering. For some reason, whenever you’re buried under the protective warmth of the loud, secluded shower, at least since it happened, you started to-

The first sniffle comes before you sense its approach, and within seconds your body is shaking in silent sobs.

“Shit.” You whisper.

Pull it together, it’s okay, just breathe. Paz is out there, you don’t want him to hear you.

Your tears blend together with the water running down your body from the shower, making it impossible to discern what is the result of your own pain and what procured it.

You let out a silent whimper, quiet enough that thankfully, you’re sure Paz couldn’t have heard.

Breathe. It’s okay, you’re okay.

No. I’m not okay.

I’m all alone.

“Stop it.” You scold yourself harshly, your soft breath echoing only in your ears.

You are not alone.

Someone is here for you.

Paz. Paz dropped everything to take care of you.

He’s right outside that door, waiting for you.

You take another moment to compose yourself, allowing the last few suds to wash down your form before turning the water off. You quickly dry yourself off and pull on your change of clothes, now wearing a blue sweater and leggings. You didn’t even bother bringing a flight suit. What’s one more day of not suiting up. But at least you’ve still got your boots.

You walk to the mirror, sighing once you get a good look at yourself.

Great.

Swollen, red, angry eyes stare back at you with a red nose to match.

Fuck. You shove all your things back into the sack, giving your hair a final few shakes with the towel before moving towards the door.

It swings open, and you’re met with the sight of Paz leaning against the opposite wall. Arms crossed, one foot propped up against the wall. His visor turns in your direction as you emerge from the chambers. He hmphs, observing your appearance.

“What?” You ask, hesitating to step closer.

“I like the color.”

You look down at your sweater, unknowingly having sported a blue in the exact same shade as his armor. You hide your gaze in your chest, mumbling a half-amused, “Oh.”

“It signifies reliability, did you know that?” He asks.

You still don’t meet his gaze, but smile. Makes sense.

“It is very fitting for you.” He finishes.

You finally look up at him. For you? He believes you to be reliable? “Oh, th-thank you.” You stutter, feeling truly flattered by his compliment.

His visor tilts silently back and forth on your features as you step up at him. He notices your freshly irritated eyes.

“Are you-”

“-it’s nothing.” You interrupt, shaking your head.

“I um,” You shift awkwardly from foot to foot, trying to lighten the mood with an obviously forced smile. “I tend to emerge from showers with angry eyes, at least, as of late.”

Paz’s hand surprises you as it reaches up, gently cupping your elbow, so swiftly you’re not even sure he meant to do it.

“Not angry, mesh’la,” He mutters, “sad.”

Your mouth gapes open slightly, not having expected such a remark from him. He seems slightly distressed by his own slip of the tongue as well, immediately tensing.

His mind is reeling, guilt flooding over him like a tidal wave in a storm. He feels as though he crossed a line. He’s supposed to be caring for you, distracting you, not calling you beautiful when you already belong to someone else.

“I’m-”

“What the hell is going on here?”

Both your gazes snap up in the direction of the source.

Standing under an archway, halfway between the entrance of the washrooms and you, is Collin.

Your breath hitches, “Collin.” You breathe out.

Paz’s hand jerks instantly from your elbow, hanging tensely by his side.

Collin says your name questioningly, taking another step towards you. He’s wearing his armor, but his helmet hangs down by his side. Blonde eyebrows furrowed suspiciously at the two of you.

“I said,” he repeats, “what is going on in here?”

“Nothing.” You say instantly, taking a step away from Paz.

Well that was a suspiciously guilty maneuver.

Collin eyes Paz for a moment, whose form hasn’t moved even an inch since Collin interrupted you both. He closes the distance between the two of you, but still stays a generous space away.

“What are you doing down here at this hour?” He questions, eyebrows furrowed tightly together.

“I..I couldn’t sleep.” You say.

“Again?”

Again? Your father died not one week ago, does he really expect you to be sleeping soundly?

“Yes it’s- been difficult to find the right headspace for rest.” You answer. “I thought perhaps a warm shower would help alleviate the uneasiness.”

His eyes flick to Paz before quickly landing back on your own, suddenly morphing his face into one of concern. His posture loosens slightly and he reaches towards you, showing you more affection than he has in months. “Well, are you okay? You don’t look very good.” Collin says.

Your frown deepens, suddenly you feel very offended.

“Yeah? Well I look the way I feel, wise guy.” You snap, startling both of you by your outburst. His hand retreats from your space, moving to clench and unclench by his side.

“I’m sorry,” He scoffs after taking a tense breath, “Have I done something wrong?”

“Collin-” Paz’s voice breaks his role as an audience member to your discussion, polite but still warning in his tone.

“-No, I am not speaking to you.” Collin spits out, “I’m speaking to my girlfriend. My girlfriend who you were getting awfully close to in the privacy of this empty washroom.”

Your heart is thumping in your chest. He’s right, this certainly was not a good look. It was highly irregular for you to be up so early. And here you were alone at an ungodly hour with a man who wasn’t your partner. Kriff, how could you be so stupid? You should have known that Collin would stumble in here at this time, he does early morning flight training every week, today must be his lesson. It must have slipped your mind, or maybe you’d forgotten his schedule. Had he even shown you his schedule?

No. No, he hadn’t. When was the last time you even saw him? Surely a few times a day but had you even shared a moment of substance together since the funeral? You’ve gone to him for comfort yet you can’t remember how any of those interactions went. He dismissed you, or offered you a peck on the forehead before changing the subject.

Come to think of it, how dare he come in here angry with you for anything. If anything, you should be the one who’s angry. Paz was right, where has he been?

“You’re right.” Paz says, shocking you and Collin both, your gaze quickly snapping in his direction. “I shouldn't have reached for her. But I was only trying to comfort her, I swear to you that is all. Regardless, you need to relax.” He speaks calmly, the warning back in his tone.

Collin huffs, taking a menacing step in Paz’s direction. He always was arrogant.

Your eyes widen, “Collin-”

He rasps out his next words in with a snarl, cutting off your attempt to de-escalate the situation. “Listen here, vod-” He spits, but not before being cut off by a startling quick grab to the front of his chest plate, yanking him forward.

Collin’s heels barely graze the floor as he looks directly up at Paz’s visor, who seems to have grown another six inches, the two quite literally helm to helm.

“You do not address me as your vod in such a manner of disrespect.” Paz growls, his voice sending a harsh shiver down your spine, slightly in alarm, slightly in...something else.

Your breath hitches, frozen as you watch the scene unfold. If you’re too frightened to move, you can’t imagine how Collin feels. Although...maybe a small part of you wishes you did.

“Jare’la,” Paz scoffs, shaking his head. “I am your alor’ad. And I do not tolerate a lack of respect. If you are confused about your place, then I will gladly show you where it is. Tayli’bac, vod?” He spits the words out menacingly, challenging Collin to oppose his authority.

“Elek! Elek, alor’ad!” Collin stammers, “N’eparavu takisit!”

Paz huffs, visor staring Collin down a moment longer before releasing him, shoving him back in the process.

He stumbles to catch himself, grabbing onto the side of the sink for leverage. You’ve never seen him look so...cowardly.

He looks to you, taking a moment to gather himself. Your eyes are still wide, mouth agape as you just stare at him in disbelief. He wets his lips with his tongue, seeming to swallow down another remark, eyes darting to Paz before returning to you. “So, that’s the way it is, huh?”

You’re speechless, “I- I don’t..”

You contemplate the severity of the moment, what’s at stake. Your silence is answer enough, you decide, before opting to look down, relinquishing your chance to speak. With it goes your willingness to explain, to try and salvage whatever pathetic excuse of a relationship you thought you had had with him. “I’m sorry, Collin.” You say, unsure of the words as they leave your mouth.

You hear only the sound of heavy breathing. Two sources of heavy breathing, and neither of them are coming from you. Then, a sound akin to that of a growl. You look up to face him again, only to see his focus on the man beside you. Paz looks back at him, unmoving, domineering, daring him to overstep.

Was Collin challenging you, or Paz?

Was Paz simply defending you or...challenging Collin? And for what?

You feel another spike in anxiety, suddenly feeling as though you were observing a mating duel, a challenge over possession of a lioness, a female...not...terribly uncommon in Mandalorian culture, though nonetheless offensive.

“That’s enough.” You whisper, though with enough exertion to be heard by both males.

You see Paz’s visor turn to face you out of the corner of your eye, but you don’t move, keeping your gaze averted to Collin.

He stares Paz down for another moment before meeting your eyes, saying your name with a stiff nod, and uttering a “Goodbye,” before briskly leaving the room.

You let out an exhale once he’s rounded the corner, catching your breath. That was it.

You’ve lost him.

You stare at the empty door, at the ghost of the shadow where he once stood, waiting for the tears to fall. You feel heavy, you feel distressed, but perhaps not anymore than you already had. There’s not a swirl of emotion in your gut nor rising in your throat that compels tears to swim in your eyes again.

You hear your name being called once, twice. The third time, you look up, much higher up than you’d expected to, at the imposing figure now standing directly above you.

“Are you alright?” He asks softly.

You hold his gaze, watching your reflection blinking up at him. He doesn’t move, waiting for your response to his question. Your gaze drifts down slightly and to the side, staring at the plain wall behind him, before reconcentrating your focus.

“What um,” Your voice comes out somewhat both hoarse and mellow, quiet as you continue, “What should we do next?”

------------------------

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Paz was guilt ridden. Surely he could have let the little brat mouth off to him one time to spare you from getting hurt. But no, he just had to go and threaten the kid right in front of you. It was just instinctual. He would have done it without restraint any other time to any other member stepping out of line, but upon reflection, maybe the whole thing was his fault. Collin had walked in on you two nearly close enough to embrace. Of course he was pissed. And then, he degraded him, ordering him into submission right in front of your eyes.

You didn’t blame him. Not in the slightest. I mean, what did Collin expect? He straight up challenged the alor’ad. It was foolish and insulting, and quite honestly Paz wouldn’t have been out of line to clock him then and there. But you suppose he was holding himself back for the sake of your wellbeing, not wanting you to watch your boyfriend - ex-boyfriend - get pounded on while you were already in such a state.

“Yes.” You say, emitting a heavy exhale. You really were.

The halls have started filling with armored warriors, the covert finally beginning to come to life with a sunrise shining through the trees and early risers popping up.

“Vizsla!” Someone shouts, the two of you turn to see Stephan jogging towards you.

“Hey,” He says, walking once he reached a comfortable earshot, “We missed you on that perimeter run. Was surprised you didn’t show up, is everything-?”

His voice trails off, visor finally ticking in your direction. He seems a little taken aback by your presence, or rather that you were within Paz’s company.

“Vod’ika,” He finally says. “What are you doing with- uh, I mean, how are you?”

“What am I doing with Paz?” You smile, “You don’t think I could handle a perimeter run, Steph?”

His helmet ticks back in surprise at your banter, “N-no, vod’ika.” He says, looking at Paz and huffing in amusement. “We’ll gladly have you join us on the next one.”

“Sure.” Paz nods.

“So…” Stephan continues with uncertainty, “How-how are you?”

Couldn’t make it thirty seconds in without having that question thrown out at you.

You hesitate, the frown slowly returning to your face. Should you answer truthfully? Lie? How are you?

“I’m…”

You seem stuck on the word. Did you choose a word? What word are you even looking for?

You’re still talking. You remind yourself.

Shit, now you look like you’ve shut down.

You feel a hand rest on your back, blinking forward from your gaze that had somehow been drawn down towards Stephans boots.

“We were just heading to the kitchens.” Paz responds, you tilt your face in his direction without raising your eyes, keeping them glued to the space in front of you, ashamed.

“Okay, yeah.” Stephen says hastily, “Well, uh, Jay made some really good morning muffins, vod’ika, and they’re still warm I bet.”

You nod your head in acknowledgement, offering a pitiful smile, “I’m sure.”

Poor Stephan, it’s not his fault you were like this. He’s just checking in on you, and here you are making him feel bad for asking about your wellbeing. It’s just a question.

Kriff, why are you so weak?

You conceal yourself back in your thoughts, sure that you look absent with glazed over eyes. But you can't bring yourself to care. That’s the weird thing about feeling so desolate, you just don’t have the energy to hide it sometimes.

You hear the foggy exchange of words between the two warriors, simply choosing to retract yourself from the conversation and instead focus your attention on the gloved hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

Stephan’s modulator rises to a more upbeat tone before stepping forward and offering Paz a light slap on the arm as he passes, evidently dismissing the two of you to carry on with your business.

Paz’s form shifts to watch Stephan leave before turning to you. “Okay?” He asks.

“Okay.” You nod.

He hums, sounding unconvinced as he lightly nudges you forward again, letting his hand drop from its place on your jumper.

No... come back.

You walk side by side in silence, trying to get him to walk a step ahead of you so you can follow. But anytime your step falters purposefully to give him the lead he slows his own, silently insisting you walk side by side. Instead, he steers your direction with fleeting contacts. A hand pulling your arm, his gloved fingers tapping your shoulder. You’re happy to let him guide you, appreciating the delicate touches in direction.

Feeling a sliver of life breathed into you at each one.

The touches stop far sooner than you need them to upon arrival to your destination. You notice you’re heading towards the mess hall again, feeling discomfort at the idea of seeing more of your vods, or worse, having a repeat of your public meltdown you’d had just a few short hours ago.

You’re more alert now, having picked up on the light buzzing from the dining hall. There’s probably quite a few people out there now. And you’re not sure you’re ready to face another wave of concerned and attentive brothers and sisters.

“Paz-” You say, ready to object, but not before you’re steered off to the side, scarcely missing exposure to the hall full of bustling Mandalorians.

Instead, Paz opens a door and gestures for you to walk through, which you do.

Oh. The kitchen.

You’ve been in here many times, but not often during the day. Jay keeps a tight lockdown on the kitchen, only allowing his apprentice to be in here during the working hours of the covert. He’s got a considerable number of Mandalorians to feed, yet he prefers to tackle the challenge alone. Usually kicking anyone out who pops in to help, scolding them for messing up his rhythm.

He has no problem allowing people to make their rounds of kitchen duty though, but that only consists of cleaning up the space once it’s shut down for the night. Mopping, washing, organizing...he tends to lock up all the good treats and hide away the key, making the task totally not worthwhile for you.

Of course, being the daughter of the unsanctioned Alor and all, you had special privileges. One of them being you could hang around the kitchen without Jay kicking you out every time. He still did, but he gave you more leeway than the others if you stayed out of his way and only snacked on the scraps he wasn’t saving.

The door swings shut behind you and you round the corner, the clink of your armored warrior just behind you.

Whoa, whoa. You stop yourself. Your?

You catch sight of a red Mandalorian viciously attending to something on the stove. “What are you two doing in here?” Jay shouts over his shoulder, turning back to his frying.

Paz looks around the empty kitchen, “I heard a rumor about morning muffins.” The deep rumble of his voice saying the words prompts a breathy giggle from your lips, catching his attention, before he continues to glance around for the treats.

Jay huffs, motioning with his wooden spoon to the corner, “Over there. Take one and get out.”

“Thanks,” Paz says, his hands lightly resting on your shoulders from behind and nudging you forward. “Nice attitude.” He mumbles for your ears, an amused smile still lingering on your lips.

“Nice signet.” Jay scoffs, evidently having heard, “Or lack thereof.”

“Nice apron.”

“Okay- get out of my kitchen.” Jay says, looking up from his dicing.

You surprise yourself by letting out a lively laugh. Paz’s hands tighten over your shoulders at the sudden sound, feeling damn near enamored by Jay for having caused it.

He looks to Jay and gives him a grateful nod, who nods slightly in return, so as not to be caught by your gaze, before returning to his work.

You make your way to the tray of muffins in the corner, boldly sitting down on the couch in front of the fire. Exactly where you and your dad would sit and enjoy the freshly baked cookies or cake made by Jay that morning, the small area being off limits to everyone else in the covert.

Paz is certain Jay would have snapped at them to get away from his personal space if it weren’t for you. You’re sat next to him, gazing at the fire that Jay lights every morning to warm the frigid kitchen.

“For you.” Paz says, handing you a small muffin with a napkin wrapped protectively around it.

You smile at him, accepting the gesture, just allowing it to slowly warm up your fingers in your lap. The movements of the fire captivating your attention as the flames dance in the soft lighting.

“Cyar'ika.” He says softly, the word sending a shiver down your spine. “You really ought to eat something.”

You look to your side again, taking in Paz’s appearance on the tiny couch. Its small size having forced you to sit right up against each other. The leg closest to you is propped up and over the other comfortably, his knee resting elevated slightly above your own.

You wonder if you clink your knee against his own if his hand will slip off it and land on yours.

A silly thought, you think, amusing yourself.

His tilting visor alerts you that you’ve been shamelessly gawking at him. Twice in one day.

“I- um,” You stutter, averting your gaze. “I’m not terribly hungry, Paz.”

He hums, “Well it’s a good thing you’re not terribly hungry because all you’ve got there is a teeny muffin.”

“Yes, it would appear so.” You smile, still making no movement to eat it.

Paz breathes in a slow, contemplative sigh. Guilt starts to flood your senses again, he’s done so much for you today, why can’t you just do this one thing for him?

“Tell you what,” he offers, your eyes rising to meet his visor, “You eat that muffin, maybe have a little bit of tea, and I’ll tell you about the time your vod and I went to Jabba’s Palace.”

Your eyes widen, and you boldly swing your hand down to grasp his arm as you straighten. “The Hutt story?” You choke. “You’ll tell me the Hutt story?”

Paz’s modulator rumbles as he chuckles, knowing he’s got you entrapped by a golden exchange.

He nods, “I’ll tell you the untold and widely sought-after story about the time Devin and I went to visit the Hutts-”

“-Deal!” You squeeze his arm, still gripping tightly from earlier.

“Yeah,” Jay utters, his looming figure now standing directly behind you both, “Kriffing deal.”

“Get out of here.” Paz huffs, shoving Jay back over the arm of the couch. He doesn’t argue, but you see his retreating form adjust the volume settings on his vambrace.

Paz shifts back cheekily with his arms spread around the couch. He gestures to the uneaten muffin on your lap, waiting for you to uphold your end of the deal.

You sigh, unwrapping the baked good. But the thrill of getting to know the story that caused such an uproar in the covert shoo’s away the discomfort, replacing it with a slightly giddy feeling.

You take a bite, looking at him expectantly. He just scoffs, gesturing again to the tiny muffin in your hand. “C’mon, that thing is like the size of a whistle bird, you finish that before you get the story,” He says, with much emphasis on the “before.”

Fair.

You down the muffin faster than you thought you could, much too excited to finally hear the secret tale. You were going to have bragging rights around this place forever. Paz shakes his head at you, lightly laughing, “So that’s all it takes, huh?” He nods to the empty napkin in your hand.

You ignore him, knowing he knows full well the value of this information. Whatever it was that happened when those two visited Jabba’s Palace, Devin had come back damn near afraid of his own shadow. It took months for him to pull himself together. Your vod would literally jump at the sound of an egg cracking open, reaching for his blaster and slipping up on his grasp. It was kriffing hysterical to you and everyone else in the tribe. And you assumed you weren’t really being malicious. Paz had been there too and returned unscathed, and laughed all the same. And even though he teased Devin to no end about it, he swore he’d never tell a soul what happened, so up until this point, nobody knew what it was. But here you were.

Paz turns over his shoulder, “Hey Jay,” He says politely. “How about a cup of tea for your vod’ika?”

“What am I your maid?” Jay retorts.

“You are the cook.”

Jay mutters something under his breath, but you don’t pay him any mind, having heard him fill up a pot of water immediately upon Paz’s request.

You avert your gaze from Paz’s helmet as soon as he turns to face you again. You look to the fire, biting your lip as a smile slowly grows on your face. It crosses your mind that you feel not only okay in this very moment but actually...happy. The fleeting moments of relief you’ve been feeling all morning, small moments of peace jumbled in with all the sadness and the anxiety, were all because of him. This man who you did not even know three hours ago. Who let you cry in his arms, who stood guard outside the washroom while you showered, who defended you, called you sweetheart, made sure you knew he was always there with you. The same man who now sat next to you on the couch you weren’t allowed to sit on in a kitchen you weren’t allowed to be in. Your smile grows wider, and in your peripheral you’re very aware of his visor still staring at you.

“What?” Paz chuckles.

“Nothing.” You giggle, tears gathering in your eyes. But for the first time today, first time all week, forming not in pain but in relief.

“What is it?” He insists, still playful in his tone. His knee nudges you as if to prompt a response.

A tear slips down your cheek and he leans forward instinctively, his hand finding yours in your lap without hesitation. “Mesh’la, what is it?” He asks again, this time void of all silliness, concerned.

You shake your head, your small smile still present, but certainly reflecting more of the emotion you were feeling.

You place your other hand on top of his own that covers yours, trapping his gloved fingers in your two hands, before looking up at him.

“Just, thank you Paz.” You say, admiration and gratitude dripping from your voice.

------------------------

He likes your voice, he decides, it sounds so sweet, like pure honey.

His eyes are lost in yours behind the visor, watching another tear slip down your delicate cheek. He can hear the relief in your voice. The pure relief and admiration. Admiration? Do you feel admiration for him? He sure hopes you do, otherwise you might find it weird that he’s staring at you for so long. Kriff, he should stop staring at you. But look at those eyes. Those wonderfully expressive eyes that aren’t looking angry or sad or pained, but warm. He feels ensnared by your gaze, a light smile trailing your features, a sprinkle of tears sliding down your cheeks. He watches one slip down the shape of your cheek, rounding your nose and lips before forming a teardrop on your chin. He watches it glisten, unable to bear letting it fall. Mindlessly, he raises a gloved finger to catch it.

Your breath hitches at the contact, and his finger hovers under your jaw before sliding up to catch another.

Your eyes flit back and forth along the dark shade of his visor, searching, wondering what his eyes look like, head tilting unconsciously into his glove.

He takes the gesture as permission, slowly lifting his thumb, his palm, his whole hand up against your cheek.

You both feel suspended, his hand frozen caressing your cheek. Your eyes have dried up now, carrying a glow of wonder in them. His head tilts slowly and unknowingly to the side, almost like he can’t hold up the weight of his helmet a second longer.

The sound of approaching footfalls brings you back to reality, Paz’s hand drops from your cheek and your faces turning towards the source that dared to interrupt your moment.

“Geez, no need to cry about it, I’ve got your tea.” Jay quips, perfectly deescalating the tension of the moment. Making it a point to show you he was minding his own business.

“Um, thank you.” You mutter, still coming back to the present.

“It’s sleepytime tea.” Jay says, “Ground with dandisonyl.”

“Dandisonyl?” You ask, more alert, “That stuff is rare and expensive.”

“And strong.” Paz huffs.

“And expensive.” You insist again, looking down at your tea. “Jay, why would you waste this on me?”

He leans down against his forearms, now looming over your shoulders. His smug nature radiating off his posture alone, “Now, and this is just an observation, but you look kriffing tired. And that there,” He gestures to the cup of earthy smelling tea you’ve placed on the table in front of you, “That’s sleepytime tea. And you, vod’ika, of all people, look like you need some serious, quality, sleepytime.”

His statement ends with a pinch to your cheeks, and it’s your turn to aggressively shove him backward, causing Paz to let out a sweet laugh.

“Paz,” You say, looking to the only superior present, “He wasted good, expensive herbs on me. That stuff can be used medicinally.” You say with reprimand in your voice.

Paz surprises you by shrugging, “He kind of did use it medicinally.”

“Oh, alor’ad.” You chastise, using his official title to remind him of his role here.

He shrugs, using his whole body for the movement, before picking up your cup and placing it back in your hands. “I suppose you’re right, alor’ika.” He teases, “So you’d better drink it all so as not to let it go to waste.”

You roll your eyes, taking a sip of the tea. With your nose nestled into the cup you miss the silent exchange of approval Paz gives Jay.

Readjusting your position so that you’re facing the fire again, you turn your head towards Paz, taking another sip of your tea, it is surprisingly good. “Get on with the story then.” You command, grinning at your victory.

“Okay.” Paz says, grunting as he adjusts himself to sit comfortably once again on the small couch, opting this time to keep one arm swung over behind your head. You smile in content, looking down sheepishly at your tea and having a bit more.

“Well, it all started on the ship. I mean before we even got to Tatooine. Devin, being the utreekov that he is, forgot to bring the kriffing-...”

You listen intently to his story. He’s using his hands as he talks, passionate and perhaps a little dramatic. He’s taking extra care to include all the details, probably indulging in the fact that you and, undoubtedly, Jay, are paying him your absolute, undivided attention. You sip at your tea, the taste warm and comforting alongside Paz’s sweet voice. Your eyes are getting heavier, and you blink at the burning feeling stinging your eyes from the light of the fire, deciding that you’ll be able to listen better with your eyes closed, and gently placing the empty mug on the table.

“So, finally we get to Jabba’s palace. And Devin’s already a nervous wreck after that encounter with the Trandoshans, and-”

His voice carries a hint of thrill in it. You wonder if he feels exhilarated in finally getting to tell this story. Your lips twitch slightly, content that he’s trusting you with it.

Feeling heavier on one side, you allow your head to swing slightly in his direction, snuggling more into the embrace of the couch.

You notice his words trailing off, realizing you weren't paying much attention. Hearing only the sounds of the crackling fire in front of you, you slowly force your eyes open.

Paz’s head is turned down as much as it can in his position. And though you can’t see his visor, you’re certain he’s staring at you.

“Keep talking.” You mutter, resting your head back again.

You hear the sweetest breath of a chuckle sound from beneath his helmet, which you suddenly realise you're very near to. “Close your eyes again.”

“No, I wanna listen to the story.” You mumble, your low energy blending the words together.

“You can only evade sleep for so long sweetheart.”

“We’ll see.” You challenge, eyes fluttering closed against your will.

“Yes, we will.” He whispers. He’s silent another moment, admiring you and your peaceful expression with a smile on his face before carrying on with the story, speaking much more softly than before. The light humming of his voice is soothing, and you notice it growing quieter and quieter, yet the feelings of security and warmth and relief all stay with you.

Paz looks towards the fire as he speaks, trying to draw out the story as long as he can. He feels the light weight of your head resting against his shoulder, not daring to move a muscle and disturb your peaceful slumber.

It’s still early in the morning. Behind the fireplace and through the density of the thick wall, Paz can hear the covert coming to life. And while their days are just starting, yours has finally come to a peaceful end. He listens to your serene breathing through the long pauses he takes in his story, knowing that really, he’s only telling it to Jay now, who notably moves through the kitchen swiftly and with as little clicking and clanking as he can muster.

“-And so, that’s what happened on Tatooine.” Paz whispers, looking at your parted lips and lightly closed eyelids.

The fire casts a harmonious glow on your face, making your features look warmer, livelier, serene.

You look utterly angelic.

He remembers how you crumbled in his arms not five hours ago, pained and distressed and lonely. You sought him out even though you didn’t know him, not knowing how much he’d admired you from afar. To see your normally light and radiant face masked with such despair, he couldn’t bear to see it again.

He watches your sleeping form take a staggering breath, your body relaxing into its position, nudging your face further into where it fell on his shoulder. He dares to let the arm wrapped around the couch lower slightly, so that it rests comfortingly around your form.

“Sleep, cyar’ika,” He whispers. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

He hopes his silent promise is enough to soothe your sleeping form, listening to your breathing even out to a more peaceful rhythm.

“I’ll be here for as long as you need.”

---------------------

Translations:

Alor - chancellor Vod’ika - little sister Osik - shit Di’kut - idiot Jare’la - stupidly oblivious of danger / asking for it. Alor’ad - captain Tayli’bac, vod? - Do you understand, mate? (menacing) Elek! Elek, alor’ad! - Yes! Yes, captain! N’eparavu takisit! - I’m sorry (lit. I eat my insult) Alor’ika - little leader Utreekov - fool, idiot (lit. emptyhead)

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a/n two: They both think the other person’s voice sounds like pure honey.. 🥺

also we need more Paz x reader content on Tumblr my dudes.

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Taglist: @wandsmith 💖

#paz vizsla #Paz Vizsla x reader #paz x reader #the mandalorian #soft!paz #mandalorian x reader #angst

209 notes · View notes

percywinchester27 · 3 years

Text

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-40)

Word count: 4.8K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Fluff, angst, feels, sickness

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23. You’re a Rockstar <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

No one talked to you today, the whispers though, had escalated. No one was bothering to keep it quiet either. Not just your classmates, even the faculty kept giving you looks, ranging from distrust to pity. Professor Whitman, who never cared much about anything, took a whole minute to find you in the class and give you a once over, like he was seeing you for the first time- Sam Winchester’s flighty wife, back to ruin his life again.

The judgement you could take. The pity was painful. What did they see? A girl who couldn’t appreciate a good man? Or as much as you hated to think of it that way- a girl who couldn't be a mother again.

It came as a surprise when Jody called you to her office after the class. When you followed her in, she closed the door behind and unexpectedly pulled you into a hug.

“I’m sorry about all of this, Y/N,” she said. “It’s awful.”

You waited for her to let go of you then asked, “How much trouble is Sam in?”

Jody pursed her lips. “I want to say, ‘not much’ but we’ll only know on Monday, I suppose.”

“Are you part of the enquiry committee?”

She nodded. “All of the freshman faculty panel is on there. You have nothing to worry about, Y/N. Your grades are impeccable. You can’t possibly be sleeping with all of us.”

“I’m not even sleeping with Sam!” You let out, frustrated. “And I’m more worried about what happens to him.” You were a student. The most they could do is sack you from the students committee and bump down your grades.

Jody regarded you for a moment. “The two of you are so similar. It’s uncanny.”

She sighed. “I’ll be upfront with you, Y/N. As much as I’ve tried to shake them, Sam’s priorities are set. Even absent, you were very high up on that list. With you in front of him, there are very few things Sam wouldn’t give up for you.”

You already knew that. But was it right to let him make all those sacrifices for someone as undeserving as you?

The thought plagued you after you’d left Jody’s office, just as it had plagued you for the past two days. Outside, you ran into Madison.

“Oh, I was looking for you,” she said. “Sorry, I missed the first few lectures, but I have news for you. One good, one bad.”

“Bad one first,” you said, apprehensive.

Madison made a face. “Starting the day after tomorrow, I have no place to live.”

“What? Didn’t you have a lease for the whole year?”

“Lacey is screwing someone, who knows someone else who knows the hostel director. And, well, long story short, my lease got prematurely terminated.”

Anger flared inside you again. This was happening to Madison only because she was staunchly standing with you.

“I want you to come house hunting with me. My brother’s agreed to help me out with the money. So, I’m good to go.”

The idea popped up in your head immediately. “Why don’t you move in with me?”

Her eyebrows knitted together. “Meg?”

“Meg’s almost moved out next door. I was supposed to put out an add for a roommate but with everything that’s going on…” Convincing Meg to continue with the move had been very difficult. She thought it was some sort of betrayal to leave you by yourself in all this mess. Cas supported her on that. However, everyone was camping in your living room anyway.

Ultimately, you had to put your foot down and tell her to move her ass out. Your life might always remain a tragedy. It shouldn’t pause her or Cas’s life. She had still slept on your sofa last night.

“You’re serious?” Madison was trying her best to contain her excitement.

“As a heart attack.”

She let out a loud squeal and tackled you. “This is the best thing ever. We’ll be roomies!”

“Not if you call me that.”

Madison’s laughter rang out in your ears. “Now you’ve already offered. You can’t take it back, roomie.”

“Wait, what’s the good news?”

Her face split into a huge grin. “I heard from the HR at Acton Gris. They won’t hire me as an intern. But she asked me to apply for the position of summer associate next year. She said my chances looked great.”

“That’s wonderful!”

“Yes! I’m thinking of applying for an on campus job this year.”

Madison was sincere, smart and she worked very hard. No wonder good things were in store for her. “Let me talk to Molly today. See if she has some inside intel on vacancies.”

“You’d do that?” Madison couldn’t stop beaming and you smiled right along with her. “The world is a much better place with you in it.”

Not everyone thought that. Following the pattern of the past few days, Rebecca decided to show her face again after the lecture. You had been expecting her at this point. Maybe she couldn’t sleep without venting off her frustration on you. As usual, she had Lacey next to her, who really had gone fully darkside.

“Missing your Professor?”

You saw Madison start, but Rebecca put in. “Oh, stop being her Lapdog, Maxwell. You don’t have to rollover each time she blows a whistle.”

“It’s alright, Maddie,” you said in a calm voice. “As it happens, I do miss him very much.”

“I hope at least the sex was worth it,” said Lacey.

You grinned at her. “Mind-blowing, actually. I remember this one time, I was screaming his name for literal hours. God, the things that man can do. It’s in-credi-ble.” You drew out the last word with a relish.

Lacey’s jaw dropped.

Rebecca recovered quickly. “Christ! You’re shameless. That man’s married with a son. Have you got no shame at all?”

“Weren’t you the one making out with Sam at Maddie’s birthday party in the bar restroom?” You shot back. “I remember you described the bit about feeling his abs in extreme details. He wore his wedding ring around his neck. So how are you not shameless?”

Rebecca’s face reddened in an instant. “What… how…?”

“Doesn’t feel so good when the finger is pointed at you. Right, Rebecca? When you’re the one being put on a spot and your character is being brought into question. It was okay for you to make out with a professor. Why are the rules so different for me?”

“I- I was drunk that night. And I never slept with him!”

“Don’t you dare paint him in that light. As if you were some drunk woman he took advantage of in a toilet cubicle.” You spat. “You’re so desperate that you don’t think twice about lying over something so demeaning. You didn’t touch Sam because at 2 in the night, he wasn’t even there in that bar. So shut that bullshit.”

There was a crowd gathered around you now, and she didn’t like her words coming back to bite her.

“How do you know where Sam was that night?” Rebecca questioned, clearly baffled and out of her element, but trying to salvage the situation and save face.

You rolled your eyes. “We’re having an affair, remember? Keep up, Rebecca. You filed that complaint. Also, don’t worry about his wife, really. She totally doesn’t mind.” You winked.

The murmur around you was starting to intensify. You didn’t know how long it would be before the actual story came out. Or if it ever would come out. Neither did you care. You didn’t owe an explanation to any of these people.

Rebecca breathed out harshly, and spoke through her teeth, contempt dripping in each word. “You’re disgusting. That child of his-”

“Don’t. Don’t utter a word about that boy,” you hissed, the anger finally burning through. “You’ve done enough harm to Sam’s reputation. But I swear to God, Rebecca, you’ll live to regret it if you so much as dare to think about Max, you deplorable excuse of a living thing.”

The warning was so raw, she flinched back from you as you stormed out.

Madison did not follow you to the library. She knew when you wanted to be left alone. Attacking Sam was one thing, but you really did want to rip Rebecca’s throat for wanting to bring Max in the middle of it. The fierce protectiveness you felt for him was like nothing else you had experienced before.

Throughout the following hour, you kept glancing at the door of the library, expecting Max to walk in. Sam had said he would visit.

Maybe you would ask him to read out to you today. If anything, that could fix your mood.

“Umm… Y/N?”

You looked up to see Molly standing over you.

“Hey. I didn’t see you there.”

She shuffled from one foot to the other looking at you awkwardly.

You squared your shoulders, realising what she might’ve heard. “Anything you want?”

“I- I wanted to say sorry.”

That brought you up short. “Why?”

Molly ran her fingers through her red hair. “I didn’t know you were… you know… Sam’s wife, and I said horrible stuff to you the other day.”

It hadn’t actually been that horrible.

“I’d heard the rumours but I swear I didn’t believe a word. Then I ran into Chase Lincoln yesterday. He told me.”

“Everything?”

Molly nodded sadly. “It was wrong of me to make assumptions, Y/N. What happened in Sam’s life was none of my business. And for the reason you left to be so horrifying? I could have never imagined. I’m really, really sorry. I don’t know how to apologize.”

“Stop saying sorry,” you said at once. “I know you’ve always meant well for Sam and for me, Molly. Everyone likes to gossip. It’s no big deal. You didn’t hurt or offend me.”

“There must be something I can do, novia.”

“Never bring it up again. Please. Let’s just forget that conversation happened.”

You saw her eyes start to fill up. “Take the rest of the week off, yeah? Come back Monday.”

“You’re low on staff already.” You did not want anyone’s sympathy.

“I’m not doing this for you,” she said. “Spend the weekend with Sam. He’ll need a distraction more than ever before that hearing on Monday. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Molly disappeared into the librarian’s room before the waterworks started. She didn’t want you to see her tear up so you didn’t follow her in, continuing with your sideways glances at the door. The sharp ring of your phone made you jump.

“Hello?” You answered the unknown number

“Y/N? It’s Alex. Sam left me your number in case of emergencies.” She sounded frantic.

“Is everything okay?”

“Can you please come over? Max is really sick and… he’s… he’s asking for you.”

*****

Instead of knocking on the door, you straight up punched the security key and barged into the house.

“Max? Alex?”

“Up here!” You heard Alex’s voice. Taking two steps at a time you made it to Max’s room. Your chest contracted, seeing Max in the bed. He was curled up on his side, cheeks wet, face puffy from crying.

Alex was sitting on a chair next to him, distressed.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, rushing to Max’s side and placing a hand against his forehead. He was burning up.

“I don’t know,” said Alex, “He was fine when I picked him up from school. He said he was feeling sick half an hour ago and now he’s running a fever. I tried calling his usual doctor but it says the number doesn’t exist anymore. He’s been crying and calling out for Sam and... you.”

“Did you try Sam?”

“He’s not reachable.”

“Max, honey, what’s wrong?” You asked as gently as you could. “Do you hurt somewhere?”

He opened his eyes and your heart lurched at the tears in them. “Stomach. My stomach hurts. I want dad.”

“Sam will be home at night. He’ll be with you.” You turned to Alex. “Is he allergic to something?”

“Not that I know of.”

You were sure he hadn’t had outside food in at least a week, so food poisoning was out.

“Does your body hurt, baby?”

Max nodded slowly, drawing into himself. “And my head.”

“Alex, could you please find the first aid box and get me a thermometer?”

She scampered off to find it, relieved to have someone else take charge of the situation. Keeping one hand on Max’s forehead, you reached out for your purse with the other and pulled out your phone. Thankfully, the number was on the speed dial. He picked up the phone on the second ring.

“Cas, where are you?”

“At the hospital. Everything okay?”

“No. Max is running a high fever. I’d guess around 101. He says he’s feeling sick, and has stomach and body ache.”

There was a pause, then Cas said. “Can you drive him to the hospital? Bring him directly to the paeds ward on the 7th floor. I’ll see you there in fifteen minutes.”

Alex was back with the thermometer. 102.3. Thankfully, she had a license and Claire’s car was in their driveway. You asked her to bring it out front.

After she left, you gently coaxed Max into a sitting position, he looked drowsy and was still sniffling a little. “Honey, listen to me. You’re going to have to deal with a little inconvenience, okay? We’re going to drive you to the hospital very quickly.”

“Hospital?” He mumbled. eyes filling up again.

“It’s just Cas there,” you soothed him. “You remember Cas, right? We all played jenga together.”

Max opened his mouth to say something, instead his eyes widened and threw up over the front of your sweater and into your lap.

He started crying immediately. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes filled up. “It’s okay, baby. It’s no big deal.” You removed the puke covered sweater and used to wipe away the vomit stuck to your jeans. “See, it’s all gone. No need to worry at all.”

The retching had left him weak and shivering.

“Just stay put a minute.” You hurriedly tossed your sweater in the hamper by the door, and pulled on one of Sam’s overlarge shirts over your T-shirt. Once back, you grabbed Max’s grey blanket and wrapped it around him. Slinging your purse around your torso, you lifted him in your arms and carried into the car that was already waiting at the curb. You held Max close to your chest in the backseat, whispering soft reassurances in his ears.

Just as Alex pulled up in front of the hospital, Max threw up on you again. It made him cry harder. You realised it was not just humiliating for him, he was missing his dad terribly.

“Max, honey, it’s totally okay,” you assured him, kissing his brow. “I used to throw up so much as a kid, gran used to call me projectile Y/N. Just puke all around me all the time. Hell, ask your dad. He held my hair when I threw up in the toilet. It’s my jam. And we’ve got a towel now. Let’s clean you up, okay?”

Thankfully, the blanket wasn’t soiled, so you could keep it around him as you carried him in the lift.

Cas was waiting for you there. He immediately guided you to a bed and laid Max down on it. You started to step back.

“Y/N, don’t go,” Max rasped out.

“I’m right here, Chirp. I’m not going anywhere, but Cas needs to take a look at you.”

Max still reached out with his hand. You looked at Cas. He gave you a quick nod and you rushed to Max’s side once more, grasping his outstretched fingers tightly. Cas pressed Max’s tummy, asking where exactly it hurt, then checked the temperature again along with the pulse. You watched apprehensively as Cas pulled down Max’s eyelids and asked more questions. Meanwhile, the chills kept getting worse.

“It looks like he’s caught a viral fever. The nurse outside told me it’s been doing a round at the school. We’ve had many kids this week.”

“Why is he throwing up then?”

“It’s probably the phlegm. I don’t think there’s a reason to worry. I’ll give him an IV with paracetamol and nausea suppressants. He’ll feel much better in a few hours.” Cas hesitated. “Maybe you should ask Sam before we start the treatment. Only he can sign off on the papers. You’ll need the details of the health insurance.”

“I can’t get to him. We’ve been trying non-stop.”

Would Sam want you to make such decisions on his behalf? Max was looking paler than usual and was clearly in pain. You couldn’t wait till midnight to start him on medication. It was killing you to see him hurting like this.

“Screw the insurance. I’ll pay whatever the bill comes out to be… and I’ll sign off on the papers as well.”

Cas gave you an apprehensive look. “Y/N?”

“Look,” you said through your teeth, “I’m still his legal guardian. I have that right. Just start him on the medication. I can’t bear to see him like this.”

“Alright.” Cas said something to the nurse behind him who rushed out and then came back with a syringe.

“This is going to hurt just a little, Max,” Cas said, flicking at the needle.

You crouched down next to Max’s head. “You’re my brave boy, aren’t you? One little prick and that will be all. You’ll feel so much better afterwards. Can you do that?”

Max gave you one quick jerk of his neck. “Close your eyes.” He did.

Cas pushed the needle into the tiny crease of Max’s arm and you flinched, tears pouring down your cheeks. Max did not even make a whimper. The nurse stuck a piece of white tape over the puncture mark after Cas was done.

“You need to swallow these two little tablets,” Cas said, handing them to Max along with a glass of water. Max looked at you and you nodded encouragingly. Without any fuss, he did as Cas said. You hugged Max very tightly to your chest. “You’re the bravest little thing in this world, you know that? And I’m so damn proud of you. You get every cookie you can think of when you feel better, yeah?”

“We’ll keep him here till the nausea subsides,” said Cas. “Once he feels better, you can take him home.”

Cas seemed concerned, but it wasn’t directed at Max- which made you feel better. It was directed at you. “You better sign off on those papers, Y/N.”

“Can you please bring them here?” You pleaded. “I don’t want to leave Max.” The boy in question was still hugging your middle tightly.

“Of course.”

It was with shivering hands that you filled out the form. You stared at the paper for a whole minute before ticking off on the small box in the relationship to the patient column against mother. Max had fallen asleep in your arms and the tears just wouldn’t stop. You knew he was going to be okay, the fever was already coming down and he had stopped shivering. Sweat dewed up on his forehead.

Occasionally you wiped it off with the back of your sleeve.

But you were terrified of this feeling- like the world would go dark if a single wrong thing happened to this boy. There was a point in your life when you were ready to own up to this feeling, looking forward to it even- and then you had lost it, along with every other emotion in your heart. Since the day you had met Max, you’d been dancing along the edge of the precipice of this very feeling- this selfless, immense love. Not ready to take the leap. Scared that you’d be shattered if you did.

Were you scared of being a bad mother? Or were you simply scared of being a mother?

As you sat there, alone, in the small clinical room, with Max softly snoring in your lap, you realised that what you truly feared above and beyond everything was giving in to feeling this love and losing it again.

If you accepted him as your son, and then something happened to him, you wouldn’t make it out of it alive. Literally. Not accepting Sam’s love and a place in his and Max’s life was not only a product of your doubts and self-hatred. It was a plain survival instinct. The epiphany was so strong, it left you breathless.

You felt a hand against your shoulder. Cas’s blue eyes were sympathetic in their depth. “You can take him home now, Y/N.” He didn’t try to reassure you beyond it. He had a subtle way of comforting without saying the words out loud.

You called Alex again, who had been reading in the waiting room and she drove you back to Max’s place. He’d been asleep through the ride, right until you put him to bed. Insisting that Alex go back home and study for her exams, you stripped down to your tank top, pulled on a pair of Sam’s tracks. After making sure that Max was still out, you cleaned up your clothes, and the mess on the floor and side of Max’s bed. You didn’t dare close the door of the bathroom, lest Max call out to you and you couldn’t answer.

Taking the chance, you made some chicken soup for him, and only then did you wake him up, gently.

Max called out for Sam the moment he opened his eyes and your heart broke again. Doing your best to reassure him that Sam was on his way, you cajoled Max into changing out of his dirty clothes and into fresh ones.

He refused to eat the soup, but with soft insistence, you persuaded him to finish half a bowl of it.

“You’ll read to me?” He said in a muted, dull voice as you tucked him back in the bed.

“Of course, sweetheart, what do you want me to read?”

“Anything.”

You looked around the room, your eyes landing on the only book over his nightstand.

“Alright, here we go.” You flipped to the page with a bookmark. “We could not wait for Atticus to come home for dinner, but called and said we had a big surprise for him. He seemed surprised when he saw most of the back yard in the front yard, but he said we had done a jim-dandy job. “I didn’t know how you were going to do it,” he said to Jem, “but from now on I’ll never worry about what’ll become of you, son, you’ll always have an idea...”

*********

It was stupid and incredibly irresponsible on Sam’s part to let his phone drain out completely. Even worse, he’d left it to charge in the meeting room and forgotten to check it in the next couple of hours while he met with the children in the boy’s home. He came back to 17 missed calls and 23 text messages- from Alex and Y/N.

Max was sick and he’d had no idea.

Sam had frantically called first thing after going through the texts. Y/N had picked up only to whisper that Max was better and asleep, and that Sam needn’t worry. For the next five hours, Sam worried ceaselessly anyway. It drove Chase up the wall, but he played his music loudly in the car all the way till Sam dropped him off and didn’t point out how Sam was a total maniac.

The clock on his dashboard blinked 1:22 as he made the bend to his house.

Sam parked the car all wrong in the driveway, barely giving it a second thought before running inside. He should’ve been quieter, knowing Max was asleep, but the anxiety barely kept his legs moving. He would have continued at the same rate through Max’s door if the scene before him hadn’t made him stop.

On the bed, Max was sleeping peacefully. He was dressed in a thin cotton t-shirt, the lower half of his body was covered in his blanket. That wasn’t what made Sam stop. Y/N was curled up beside him, her arm thrown around Max, who was nextled so comfortably in her embrace that he belonged there. Max’s book was balanced over Y/N’s hip, wedged open on the page she had been reading out of. On the nightstand, stood a bowl of cold soup, half empty, along with water and strips of medicine. The table on Y/N’s side held a cooking pot filled with water and a washcloth lay dipped in it. She’d been nursing him- from fever or the sweat, Sam couldn’t say.

Slowly, he walked up to Max, and very very carefully placed the back of his hand on his forehead. No fever.

Sam looked about himself. The floor was strewn with Max’s clothes that smelled like he had been sick over them. Sam picked up the clothes and carried them to the washing machine. Inside was already a dry load of clothes that belonged to Y/N and him. So Max had thrown up on her. More than once.

Sam knew from the messages that Y/N had taken Max to the hospital- had her friend, whom she trusted implicitly take a look at his son, signed the papers as his guardian and paid the bill out of her pocket.

The thought occurred to Sam as he undressed for the night. In that last message, Y/N had apologised for signing off on Sam’s behalf, as if he could ever be mad at her for dropping whatever she was doing to look after his son, the way a mother would.

Sam understood now why Max had thrown a fit when Sam had forbidden him from seeing Y/N. It had hurt Sam that he couldn’t be enough for Max, that Max was looking for something more in Y/N. But seeing them together now, Sam could see he had been completely wrong. Max wasn’t asking something more, he’d been asking for what already belonged to him- Y/N’s love. Max had been right all along.

Sam pulled the covers and duvet off his bed and dragged to Max’s room where he laid them out at the foot of Max’s bed, so he’d be sleeping next to him on the floor. An alarm started going off on Y/N’s phone, and Sam jumped to turn it off. It was already 2 O’ clock. She had set successive alarms for every hour of the night, Sam presumed to check on Max. Sam turned off all of them. He was home now, he could take care of it.

He checked Max’s temperature once more- still normal- and then bent down to place a kiss on his forehead. It was almost November. Max always had bouts of viral or flu in the cold months. He should have foreseen it. If Y/N hadn’t been around…

The expression on her face was so peaceful as she held onto his boy, tears sprang into Sam’s eyes. This was everything he wanted in his life. Everything. Right in front of him. He bent down once more and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. She didn’t wake at his touch, but adjusted herself closer to Max on the tiny bed, the book falling off her hip with a soft thud onto the thick carpet.

Sam lay down on the floor, thinking of a night very long ago when Y/N had fallen asleep on the sofa in his house, back in Lawrence. He’d read to her from this very book that night- for the first time. Sam had slept besides her on the floor that night as well. A writer would have called the parallel poetic… but Sam saw it for what it was, shrouded in a mist of uncertainty all around him- a haunting ache inside his soul.

He couldn’t thank her for what she’d done for his Max today- not only would that gesture be insufficient, it would be insulting. No, Sam wouldn’t thank her. Instead, he would check up on Max every hour, make her breakfast in bed, and iron her clothes before she woke up, so she wouldn't be late for classes tomorrow. He would pack her a lunch and kiss her goodbye at the door. Maybe she would see through him and understand how incredibly grateful he was for today… and how tragically hopeful he was for the future, when he could do these simple things everyday without the excuse of an unsaid thank you.

“I love you, Darling,” he whispered. “It can only ever be you.”

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

A/N 2: It’s been a hard, awful few days. I must be made up of stronger stuff than I thought I was.

Please do let me know if you liked this part. Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated.

Five more chapters to go!

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weaverofthreads · 3 years

Text

On the process of writing a novel...

Ok, so this began as a DM to a very dear friend who had said they were super excited to work on a novel of theirs that they'd abandoned for years, but they felt a bit lost when looking at the project again. They had "too many characters, too many intrigues" and they didn't "know how to create order" for all their ideas. They didn't know "what to keep, what to remove, what to change" and wanted to know if I had any tips.

I began to reply in messages and then realised I needed to make a whole post out of it, so here it is! All 3k words of it. This is for you, darling! I hope it helps.

Things I found extremely helpful when planning my novel for NaNoWriMo this year, after also taking some time off from it.

Most of this comes from Alicia Lidwina’s Four-Part article on her NaNoWriMo prep process, and setting up a writer’s notebook, for 2018. You can find the link to the first part here and I highly recommend you check out the whole series of articles for a more in-depth read.

Content of this ‘essay’:

Preparation, Groundwork, and Materials

Project 'Stats' & Overview

Mood, Moodboards, and Key Imagery

Things to Consider, and Important Bullet Points

Get to Know Your Characters

Chronological Order

Tangential and Preceding Events

Basic Premise, Plot Definition, Sub Plot Ideas

List of Locations

Scenes

Chapter Outline

NaNo Plan

Additional Notes and Tips for Writing

Ok. Let's begin.

First of all, I'm not saying that this is the only way to write or organise a novel. It can be tackled in as many ways as there are writers in the universe. This is just the method I used to get my ideas crystallised and organised.

Preparation, Groundwork, and Materials.

Take your preparation seriously. I bought a cheap but still nice A4 sketchbook with blank paper for maybe £2 at the local hobby store, and used it solely for the purposes of being my Novel Notebook. It doesn’t have to be a pretty, perfect, Aesthetic(TM) journal at all. Its function is to act as a route-guide through the process.

I bought a cute sticker from Etsy and used it as the front cover design so that I liked the book and that it felt a little bit special, without being too intimidating to put a mark in. Then I left the very first page blank, and opened it to the first double page. On the left, I wrote ‘Contents’ and then moved on to the right and wrote ‘Project Stats and Overview’.

I used a pen that was comfortable to write with, which for me was important. I’m a very tactile person, and having nice paper and pens (not necessarily fancy), made the process feel good.

Project Stats and Overview

This is the bare bones of the book, and includes details such as:

Project Working Title: (in my case it’s Weaver of Threads)

Targeted Wordcount: (to give yourself an idea of the scope, but it’s not necessary. For me it’s 50-100k)

Genre: (for me, fantasy)

Series: (will it be one book or more? For me, probably more than one, and at least two).

Inspiration: (here you can jot down all sorts of things which inspire your world and your writing, and it can be anything. In my case, I began with “density and lore, and feeling of being grounded in a real world from LOTR and Tolkien.” And I went on to include other writers and novels in the fantasy genre, as well as elements from our own world, such as Mongolian herding communities and way of life, the history of the Persian Empire, and Renaissance Florence!).

Project Timeline: Give yourself a structure, and be realistic. If you know you’re a slow writer who’s prone to distractions, be generous, but if you’re someone who responds well to short deadlines, tighten the time frame up a bit. I said “November 2020 - November 2021 for the whole manuscript” because I know I’m a procrastinator who gets dejected if they shoot past intense deadlines….

Editing Deadline: December 2021-January 2022. I know I can edit fairly quickly, so I made this one much shorter.

Main Requirements Prior to Starting: What do you need to get sorted before you can get going? It could be purchasing a laptop or figuring out a magic system. In my case, it was the latter.

What Happens in your novel?: This is not ‘what do your characters do?’, but what, in one sentence, actually happens in the book. For Fellowship of the Ring, you could say ‘a diverse group of people assemble and set off together with the goal of destroying the Ring’. LOADS more stuff actually takes place, obviously, but that’s probably the key thing that happens in that book. So, write the same thing for yours. I’m not going to tell you what happens in mine, because that would spoil it :).

That took up the first A4 page of my writer’s notebook, and after that, I moved on to Mood and Key Imagery.

Mood, Moodboards, and Key Imagery

On the left hand side of the page, I wrote down the words and concepts that sprang to mind when I thought of the novel itself. These were in no particular order or placement — just a random cloud of ideas in a rough column on the left hand side of the page — and they included: history, mystery, love, friendship, betrayal, nostalgic, homesick, sense of belonging, sense of place, searching, closeness, secrets… etc. etc.

Then on the right hand side, I wrote down five key words that I wanted to associate with the novel. These would form the ‘visual aesthetic’ in the background of my mind, and could be very easily expressed with a moodboard.

This same process (writing down words and creating a moodboard) could be achieved on a website like Pinterest. Take your time with it, find the right visual clues that really match the essence of your story, and create a final mood board with a limited number of panels that will be your novel’s ‘true north’ when it comes to feelings. If you're artistically inclined too, you could draw sketches of things relevant to your world too.

While this stage is really important for solidifying the feeling and mood of the novel, don’t get stuck here and spend forever procrastinating on Pinterest or whatever. Once you’ve crystallised that ambiance, it’s time to move on. It’s also perfectly fine to come back to this at a later stage if you find yourself running out of inspiration or drifting a bit. Daydreaming, drawing, mood-board-ing are all great ways to work on your novel on days when you don’t feel like writing.

Things to Consider:

Alicia Lidwina asked herself some questions which helped me get past the ‘block’ that I’d created when thinking about the novel, and those were:

What scares me about this story? (in my case it was the scope of it - it was easy for me to get lost in over-thinking tiny details and get too overwhelmed to handle the big picture)

What will readers take away from it? (in my case, I hoped that it was a sense of friendship, people from desperate cultures finding common ground, and a sense of being grounded in a real, tangible world.

What is its selling point? (essentially, why would an agent/publisher choose yours over the next one in the pile?). Don’t be bashful about this. This is your notebook, so if you’re proud of a feature or aspect of the story, write it down. In my case, there is no ‘Big Bad come to destroy the world’, no Chosen One who is the only one who can stop it. There is an antagonist, but it’s on a personal scale, and that’s the selling point. It’s about two people going on a personal journey to uncover a lost piece of knowledge that’s arguably not all that world-changing on its own, but which means the world to them.

What will be the three biggest issues in writing the first draft? Identify the three biggest roadblocks, and then take a bulldozer to them. For me, it was time management, getting mentally stuck, and the sheer darned effort of it becoming overwhelming!

Important Bullet Points

These are five key facts about your novel, distilled from the sections above. They include: What’s at the heart of the story? How long is the story? What’s the narrative focus of the story? What are the maximum number of main characters? And the maximum number of supporting characters (this obviously doesn’t mean you can’t have other, less important characters too!)?

Relationship between the two main characters is forefront

50-100k words

The novel’s focus is on the characters’ main goal (had to be more vague here so I didn't give it away)

2 main characters

3 supporting characters

If you find you’ve got too many main characters (not necessarily a bad thing to have a lot of characters - look at A Song of Ice and Fire after all!), then figure out whose story you want to tell here. You can always write another story with other characters in a connected novel, or a sequel. You don’t have to tell everything all at the same time.

Speaking of characters…

…Get to Know Your Main Characters:

Here you can write character sheets for each of your main characters and cast. There are hundreds of these templates available on the internet, asking questions like ‘how would your character react to [insert event]?’ etc. to get to know your character. If this isn’t your thing (it isn’t mine) then at least write down some useful information about them. Rough height and weight, hair, eye and skin colour, general temperament, and any other defining physical or mental traits.

Next came the Chronological Order

This does not have to represent the final order of the novel’s structure, nor the order in which you write the manuscript, but you need to know what happened within the timeline, and when, in order to be really clear when you’re telling the story. You can write the manuscript out of order, and you can tell the story with flashbacks or in a different order, but you need to have the underlying chronology securely in place so that your writing makes sense and so that you don’t confuse yourself or the readers in the process.

Preceding and Tangential Events

These don’t need to be in the novel itself, but it may be important to define the sequence of events that also led up to the moment where we pick up your story, and what is happening elsewhere so that you can be sure of these too. In my case, I defined the events that concerned one of the supporting characters’ lives so that I knew how and why they were at the point they are in the story. It relates directly to - and heavily influences - the events of the novel, so I needed to have this person’s history nailed down as well, even though I don't tell it all explicitly in the book (because that would be unnecessary and a bit dull).

Basic Premise, Plot Definition, and Sub-Plot Ideas (plus writing a synopsis)

Alicia Lidwina defined the story premise helpfully with the following formula:

Story Premise = Main Character + Desire + Obstacle

Pick a different colour for each of these components, and write a short paragraph to explain them in the context of the novel. Alicia Lidwina used the following:

[Main Character] “Harry, an orphan who didn’t know that he’s a wizard, [Desire] got invited into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and wanted to live his school life to its fullest, [Obstacle] but a certain Dark Lord who killed his parents is trying to rise into powers again and kill him in revenge.

Do this for your novel, and keep it really short.

Plot Definition: This is even shorter than that! It’s a single sentence!! It’s most closely tied to the desire of the character, and lies at the heart of the story. It’s most likely a distilled version of the ‘what happens in the story’ from the Project Stats page, so check that to see what you wrote there.

Sub Plot Ideas

Five bullet points (no more) for things that are happening concurrently and which are related in some way to the main story. For me, Kae and Tomas are doing their research, so that’s the main theme, but beneath that there are a few other related incidents.

Writing a Synopsis - developed out of the points in this section, and includes:

Who the main character is

What the stakes are (the story premise is your guideline)

What the main plot line is

How the MC resolves the problem in the main plot line

How the book ends.

List of Locations

Start with the main ones and add to it as you go on. Write a little bit of information about them so that you have something to refer back to. I also drew a big old map which I found very helpful and also really fun to do.

List of Scenes

It’s very important to map out every single scene that happens in the novel. Use your timeline to help with this, but remember a scene is not necessarily a chapter. You can have more than one scene within a chapter, but try not to have too many.

I used small post-it notes (sticky notes) and wrote down things like “M joins K’s clan at the fire and K learns about magic” and “K studies at Citadel, intro to Citadel, magic, and characters” as separate scenes. Once you’ve written down everything that is going to happen (this will take some time! Get a drink and some snacks ready, and go slow), you can stick them into your notebook in the order you’d like to tell the story. Some chapters may have just one scene, while others may have two or three. I didn’t have more than two in any of my chapters, and actually ended up splitting some scenes that I’d made too vague in this section into more chapters. It doesn’t have to be set in stone, but it will form a road map.

Additions and Notes:

I left a section of the Scene Outline bit of the notebook blank for things to add in as I went along. I haven’t used it yet, but I might.

Chapter Outline

I arranged the scenes into the chapters already by sticking them in order, but you could do a chapter outline separately after this. It’s up to you.

NaNoWriMo plan:

I did this back in October, and wrote down the main goal for nanoprep, which was to finish the background info. Breaking that down further, I listed - magic (how does it work exactly), geography, and politics.

After that, it was just a case of writing the 1667 words a day. *spoilers, I got distracted and didn’t do NaNo this year* . What I should have done, was break it up into chunks and write down my goals so that I had something tangible to use as a road map, and I will be doing that now for the novel as I take it up again outside of NaNo. Having check boxes and manageable goals really works for me. Find what will work for you, and if it turns out not to, adapt!

Some final pointers and tips:

Set regular goals for yourself. Whether you work by saying ‘I’ll write 1000 words a day’ or ‘I’ll write something every day’, make a structure for yourself. If you slip and miss a day, week, or month (I didn’t meet NaNo this year because I chose to work on another project instead *slaps forehead*), don’t beat yourself up. Writing is a craft and it takes a long time and a lot of discipline to master a craft.

Your first draft does not have to be good. At all. Your first draft is just words on paper. A first draft is the block of marble taken from the quarry, and subsequent edits and reworking is the process of carving the sculpture itself. The editing that is done by the publisher or the professional you employ to edit it for you later, is the final polishing. Don’t be demoralised if the block of marble seems very rough when it first lands in your studio. That’s ok!

Take regular breaks. Writing is hard work, and most people can’t concentrate on something successfully for longer than 55 min's, and if you’re doing that, you’re already doing really well. Personally, I’m at 15-20 on a good day. Write in little sprints of ten minutes or so, and then get up and stretch, look out the window, maybe leave the room, come back in with a fresh approach.

Stretch your hands, and wear wrist braces when you work. Seriously. I gave myself tendinitis on my first major project, and couldn’t use either hand properly for weeks. The ones I have are these, and they allow me to work safely for much longer.

Keep hydrated. Have a bottle of water on the desk in front of you between your arms as you type and sip it, otherwise you’ll forget. 2 litres a day is usually recommended, but know your body and drink accordingly.

Treat yourself. Whether that’s something as simple as a decadent hot chocolate after your first chapter/chunk/sprint is done, or a new notebook or a pen or that sticker set you wanted on Etsy or literally anything nice, reward yourself for the hard work you’ve put in, with tangible things you can look at or experience and say ‘I have that because I did the work’. It’ll help with your sense of achievement, especially if the project is a long one.

Join a local writer’s group for feedback. With the current Covid-19 chaos, this is probably not possible right now, but getting constructive feedback on your work from someone who hasn’t been cocooned in the project in the way you are, but who respects you as a writer and wants to help you grow, will be invaluable. It’s too easy to exist in a little isolated bubble and think you’re doing ok, when in reality you could be creating bad habits which will be difficult to break later. By these, I mean things like ‘filler words’ you don’t realise you use, or other pit-falls it’s easy to tumble into when you can’t see the wood for the trees…It’s intimidating, and it might take some courage to work up and do, but I promise it’ll help you grow. You don’t have to do what the people suggest, but it’s great to get outside opinions all the same.

Submit work to writing competitions. This will help with showing agents and publishers later down the line that you’re not only committed, but hopefully talented, and will help you to push yourself. Use the world of your novel for the setting, and get to know it by writing short stories on the competition’s theme set there.

Read. Read the writers you admire, and read them ‘actively’ - figure out exactly what it is about ‘that’ sentence that made you shiver, and use the same techniques in your own work (don’t plagiarise, obviously, but if it was alliteration that made the sentence work so well, use it yourself! Perhaps it was the metre of the line? Great, now you know a rhythm that will drive a sentence forward or slow it down etc.)

Enjoy it. If you’re not enjoying what you’re doing, it’ll show in the work. Take a step back if you start floundering, and ‘interview’ yourself about why it’s not fun any more. Refer back to the sections in the notebook that helped to clarify the plot/process, and see if you’ve wandered away from them. Make yourself answer questions like: ‘What is the main reason I don’t want to do this?’ ‘What is the character’s motivation?’ ‘Should I scrap this section?’ (don’t delete it, but cut and paste it into another ‘scraps’ document, and then start afresh from the last place you were happy with. Nothing is wasted - it all goes into building the world and getting to know the characters, even if it doesn’t get explicitly told in the finished product, so don’t be afraid to do that last bit).

Good luck!

I hope you found this helpful, and if you have any questions or things you’d like to add to this, please feel free to send me an ask here on Tumblr.

If you’re a new writer hoping to get an agent or publisher, you might also find this post on ‘talking to a published author’ helpful or interesting.

If you would like to keep up to date with my own novel’s progress, you can follow me here on Tumblr, as well as on my writing Instagram @rnpeacock

#writing #writeblr #writing process #how to write a novel #novel writing #nanowrimo #national novel writing month #writing a book #writing advice #author #authors on tumblr #how to structure a book #long post

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wherethewordsare · 3 years

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Hello hello, I read the tiktoker minific and it's unbearably cute and I like your writing so much ♥️ the 30th prompt sounds super duper cute, if you were so inclined. Rhett and Link did a brilliantly stupid thing where they picked out wall paints in the colour of their skin tone 👀

Hi! Omgosh, thank you so much for reading my work! I’m really glad you enjoyed it. So a bit of a disclaimer, I’m actually not familiar with who Rhett and Link are and I thought Jaskier would probably go for some brighter colors. BUT! He got one to match Geralt’s eyes so. Hopefully this is what you’re looking for!! Thanks again for the ask!

I took a page from @theamazingbard for that morning scene. That’s the good shit right there. Give me easy romance where they’re comfortable and troll each other a bit. It is my weakness.

37. Painting the house that ends in a paint fight and giggles

“Jaskier?” Geralt was humming softly against his ear, arms wrapped around him as the morning started to spill into their new bedroom. “Jask, I’ve been thinking.” There was a smile in his voice. He was obviously very pleased with himself but it was still too early.

“No think… just coffee,” Jaskier grumbled, rolling over and burying his face into the crook of Geralt’s neck.

“I mean, I guess you don’t want to hear what I’ve been thinking about for that front room then,” Geralt’s chest rumbled under his fingers with laughter and Jaskier finally peered up at him with bleary eyes, fondness and suspicion written across his face in equal measures.

“I hate how much of a morning person you are,” but he was nibbling Geralt’s shoulder with sleepy affection and it earned him a soft poke to his hip. “So what have you been thinking about at this ungodly hour then?”

Geralt shifted onto his side to face Jaskier more, giving him that crooked smile he used when he knew he had Jaskier’s full attention. “Are you sure you don’t want coffee first?”

“Geralt,” Jaskier huffed, snaking his hand up between them to squish his husband’s face. Geralt only took it and pressed a kiss into his palm, still grinning.

“I’ve been thinking we’re probably going to be here for a good long while and you deserve a home studio,” he mused as though he were commenting on the weather. He still had Jaskier’s hand in his, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles and nipping at the pads of his fingers.

Jaskier pulled his head back, his eyes suddenly alert as he went still in Geralt’s arms. “Really?” He was biting his lip and smiling, his blue eyes shining.

“Just got to pick out colors and me and the guys can hang up whatever acoustic panelling you need and-” Jaskier was pressing into him, cutting off his next words with a kiss. Geralt smiled into it, his arms wrapped around Jaskier as he pulled him back down into the blankets.

That’s how they found themselves in the room off of the foyer. The large windows faced out over the front porch, though the roof blocked out most of the sunlight. After that, the hedges blocked out nearly the rest. Jaskier settled on a buttery yellow for most of the space save the wall across from the door which was to be painted nearly gold.

“To remind me of your eyes, dear heart.”

“Jaskier,” Gerlat huffed but was still pleased.

Everything was going fine until Geralt took a step back to make sure he had taped the baseboard evenly when he felt wet on his elbow. He turned to see Jaskier had just backed up as well from the corner he had been working on, paintbrush in hand.

“Oh it’s like that, is it?” Geralt hummed. Jaskier turned looking up at him with confusion till his eyes went down and saw the paint on Geralt’s elbow.

“Oh no you don’t,” Jaskier was already laughing, backing away but trying not to press himself into the still wet wall. Geralt swiped some of the paint from his elbow and dabbed it onto Jaskier’s cheek with a grin. “Oh you absolute…” he feigned an indigent glare placing his hands on his hips but Geralt just leaned in and kissed his cheek.

“It’s a good color on you, always looks good in yellow,” he practically purred. Jaskier brought the paint brush up as he flailed slightly, loss for words as Geralt crowded into his personal space. The brush streaked warm gold paint up Geralt’s chest and against his chin. His eyes narrowed and he chuckled, reaching out and pressing a hand into the wet paint of the wall before pressing it to Jaskier’s cheek.

The squawk of surprise and betrayal only made Geralt laugh a bit more. But then Jaskier was starting to dissolve into laughter as his back was finally pressed to the wall. He tried to grumble about having to repaint but then Geralt was kissing him.

Jaskier cupped the back of his head, deepening the kiss and Geralt’s eyes flew open as he pulled back, realizing he now had that same gold color in his hair.

“It’s a good color on you, dear heart,” Jaskier grinned, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. The painting, they decided, could wait a bit.

You can drop me a prompt from this list here!!

Tag list as it stands now <3: @jaskierswolf @geraskier-trashh @elliestormfound @artistsfuneral @thetinymm @fontegagrilledcheese @anythinggoesfandoms @electricrituals

#the witcher #witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #modern au #fluff #domestic fluff #established relationships #jay writes #prompt fill

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papirlife · 3 years

Text

Blistering Love

Okay so slowly but surely making my way through Johnny’s quest line so expect these over the top analyses of my Johnny/V for each of these jobs ( I shall apologize in advance for spamming anyone’s dash but I can’t help myself). Feel free to add on your own thoughts, I love reading about wveryone’s different takes on these two.

Okay so, Blistering Love, the first step in Johnny’s journey to reconcile with his past, and make amends to the people who cared about him, so we’re emotional from the get go.

Now, in my last post regarding ‘Chipin In’, I stated that my V, who is by all means a very distant, rational person who suffers from chronic emotional constipation, had to come to terms with a lot of things which Johnny brought to the surface when he abused their trust. One of them was wondering wether or not they had made a fool of themselves by placing their trust in him after he went on a mad bender that basically left V emotionally overwhelmed, hurt, vulnerable and pissed as all living hell.

But coming to terms with Johnny’s betrayal hadn’t been the only thing that had upset V. When they had broken down after coming back to their apartment, all the pent up emotions, the grief, the anger, the hurt, everything they had suppressed had come bubbling up to the surface but in the midst of all that V later recognizes that one of the reasons they were so upset was because they were starting to feel something FOR Johnny.

(Now this can be anything from romantic love to something completely platonic and familial but in this case for my V it was romantic).

They had started to develop a romantic interest in him, they liked him, genuinely. They cared about him, his emotions, his well-being, they cared about what happened to him, and what might happen to him depending on how everything with the relic panel out.

But they also cared about his opinion of them, even if it was only subconsciously.

So to wake up and think that everything you shared with this person, everything you had been through to get to this point in your relationship, had all been a ploy, an act to make them lower your guard so that he could take advantage of them.

For V to think that Johnny had such a low opinion of them, that he didn’t have enough respect for them to blatantly disregard their boundaries and reservations despite being intimately familiar with them, had been a huge blow.

It had made V feel like an idiot, feel used, manipulated, and most importantly it had made them wonder what the hell were they thinking when they went and fell for the Johnny Silverhand, rockerboy and professional asshole.

All these thoughts had been plaguing V’s mind in the aftermath of Johnny’s bender and it had made them doubt everything, especially his promise at Pistis Sophia.

But this had been a turning a point in the relationship for V, because this episode had forced them to confront the fact that yes, they had fallen for Johnny, that they cared about him, maybe even loved him just a little, but then have to contend with the idea that he very likely knew this already and was just taking advantage of V’s vulnerability.

But V starts to doubt this claim at Oil Fields, and by the end of their talk, while the doubts are still there, their muted, more of an afterthought than a serious consideration and eventually with time, they fade completely.

Because here’s the thing, Johnny doesn’t know that V has feelings for him, they have a mutual agreement to stay out of each other’s heads even if it’s difficult to manage and that day during V’s breakdown, it was the first time Johnny had been hit with such a tumult of emotion from V’s end that he hadn’t been able to make heads or tails of it, so while V picked up on their romantic feelings for Johnny, he was none the wiser because he was barely able to process anything during the breakdown and afterwards he made every attempt to give V their space so that they could collect themselves.

Bottom line, Johnny doesn’t know shit about how V’s feeling, which is why when V hesitates in answering Johnny about letting him take Rogue on a date, he thinks that they’re just apprehensive about giving him control again (which they are) but in reality, the idea of him and Rogue isn’t sitting well with them, and they’re just a little jealous and sad, especially because it brings to mind Johnny’s comment about V not being his type, which in my opinion is complete bull, Johnny doesn’t really have a type, he just goes for whatever looks good.

Secondly, the not my type comment comes after the jacking off comment, and it felt more like we afterthought than a serious rejection. In my canon, Johnny falls for V first, but since he doesn’t understand the concept of emotional stability, he just locks everything down and thinks that if he doesn’t acknowledge his feelings, they don’t exist.

So at this point, he’s fallen for V but he’s subconsciously in denial about the whole thing and hasn’t realized it yet.

So the comment about V not being his type, complete crap, it’s just his mind being defensive and trying to deny that he’s in love with them.

Moving on, Johnny’s whole quest line is all about trying to reclaim his past, realizing that that’s impossible and instead choosing to reconcile with the people he cared about and moving on. We see him trying to reclaim his past in ‘Chipin In’ and failing miserably but then we see him trying again, this time by attempting to rekindle a relationship with Rogue. Now, Johnny/V ship aside, the whole ‘date’ with Rogue, didn’t really feel like a date, it felt awkward, forced.

There was no chemistry between them. Personally, I think it was just an excuse for Johnny to try and reclaim his past, because the world has changed a lot in 50 years and I think this whole quest line was likely born out of anxiety and panic over the fact that everything he once knew is gone, this new world is still Night City but it’s unfamiliar territory, it’s not the same.

So his quest line involves him coming to terms with this fact, accepting it and starting anew.

But anyways back to the point, V is uncomfortable with the idea of Johnny going on a date with Rogue, because while Johnny may have fallen first, V is the one who acknowledges their feelings for him and doesn’t try to deny them unlike him. Which is why they’re so uncomfortable and disheartened by Johnny wanting to take Rogue out.

But V still thinks that he doesn’t want anything with them beyond friendship, so they put on a brave face and agree to go along with his ideas dreading it but also wanting him to be happy and show that they are willing to put their trust in him again.

So they go to SPC and let Johnny have his night. He and Rogue have their moment together, but this is where it differs from canon; in the game, rogue is the one who pulls away and stops Johnny before things go too far. But in my version, it’s Johnny who pulls away much to Rogue’s confusion and unconsciously relief.

Keep in mind, Johnny might be in love with V right now, but he’s doing his damnedest to deny and suppress his feelings, even if it is subconsciously. So when he’s kissing Rogue, it feels wrong, it feels off. It’s not right.

Because all he can think about is V. All he can think about is how much he wishes they were the one’s sitting here with him watching a shitty action movie and making fun of it, that they were the one’s he was kissing.

And that’s when he can’t do it anymore, can’t deny that he’s in love with them, and he has to stop because this is wrong, because V is the one he wants, even if he can’t put that into words right now. So he pushes Rogue away, says that he can’t, he just can’t do it, can’t do it to V and Rogue realizes what’s happened, and sees that this little merc really has managed to get through to Johnny, to help him be better.

Because he loves them, because the old Johnny didn’t possess the capacity to love, but his one does and he’s learning to accept it. In a way it’s comforting, and she’s glad he’s the one who pulled away first. It seems that they both realized something that’s been eating away at them for a while, and they’re better for it.

They talk, and Rogue finally voices the words that Johnny has been avoiding these past few months,

“You love them, don’t you?”

And now that it’s out in the open, he can’t run from it anymore so he tells her yes he does. They stay like that for a while longer, just enjoying each other’s company after so many years apart, reminiscing g about the few good times they shared, with Johnny actually apologizing for how he treated her when he was alive like he was supposed to.

Eventually, Rogue calls it a night, she kisses Johnny on the cheek, and wishes him and V a good night, before leaving SPC, contented and happy to have spent time with an old friend instead of storming away from an ex-flame like she had done in the game.

Which is when Johnny takes the pills and V wakes up back in their body, groggy and disoriented and confused when they don’t see Rogue. What they do see is Johnny looking at them with this somber, soft expression on his face, like he’s seeing them for the first time after years as he explains that things didn’t work out and she went home.

V is arguably relieved, and Johnny tries to ignore the wave relief that washes over him from V’s end of their link, convinced that they could never feel the same way he does, especially after the stunt he pulled in “Chipin In” (because y’know these two are stupid and who doesn’t like a bit of angst with their enemies to friends/idiots to lovers ‘fix-it’ fanfic?).

Anyways, they talk and call it a night and Johnny desperately tries to ignore the feelings of calm and contentedness he’s catching from V, just like he tries to ignore the way his heart skips a beat when V looks at him with an adorable little smile on their face.

He hopes to god that they can’t feel it because he can still feel something sharp near their heart. Or is it him? Who knows, it’s hard to tell at this point.

#they’re stupid your honor #I really hate the CDPR did rogue and alt so dirty #there was so much potential in this quest for rogue and Johnny to reconcile and be friends and CDPR just went nope not happening #cyberpunk 2077 #v cyberpunk #cyberpunk 2077 game #cyberpunk v #johnny silverhand #cyberpunk #v x johnny #cyberpunk johnny #cyberpunk screenshots #johnny/v #johnny silverhand x v #johnny x v #rogue #rogue amendiares #rogue cyberpunk #cp2077

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theyarebothgunshot · 3 years

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Another heteronormative S4 viewer whose eyes popped right the fuck open when cas burst through the barn doors and dean promptly stabbed him in the heart lol. No lie that dean/cas had a significant impact on the shattering of my heteronormative lens forever. (And no matter how much pain the ship brought over the years I will always be grateful for that reason)

So yeah. This acey/straighty straighty had major 👀👀👀👀👀 at jenmish chemistry from their first ep. I was onboard the cockles train by their first hellatus.

Anyone who doesn't see the insane chemistry was just sticking their heads in the sand for the last 12 years imo.

amazing shfsdh i love hearing all your origin stories!!

'stage chemistry' anon came back as well but it's a bit long and has a minor buffy spoiler in it (tea anon is watching for the first time and has somehow managed to avoid a lot of big spoilers hfsdhfhsf) i'm putting it under the cut!

'stage chemistry' anon here! With years! I got here with years! For starters, i am not american and while i'm not straight i didn't know abt bisexuality until Willow in Buffy. So, i see a few epis of spn on tv, think scarecrow or hookman and i like horror and when i get my own laptop i search for the show. It's on it's fourth season at the time i start watching, i believe. Anyway, i really like the show, could've done with less bro drama but whatever. Castiel happens, so cool! I put the chemistry into the box of 'they're such great scene partners!'. Siren episode happens, i raise my eyebrows but when it comes to the brother aspect of it i want to bleach my brain. (i know people have tried to explain it away and it's a good epi for proof that dean is bi but i still can't get past of the implication that he has hots for his brother, just no) so i delete that epi from my memory. Ok, season 5 is sooo good and i'm watching as epis come in and i actually search for youtube content, see J2 goofing around and a few fan vids, but i still remain GA. Then there's the heaven epi with implications that Sam and Dean share heaven and again, just no. But overall amazing season and finale for the series. And then there's season 6. Why is there season 6? is my question. But i stick by it. There's some stupid jokes abt Castiel and Dean. I don't like them joking abt it, cause it feels like making jokes on the expense of gay people, but okay. 6x20 happens. Ooh, he, umm, loves him? But the betrayal is so awful. Cause it isn't just Cas betraying Dean, it felt like the show was betraying the audience. It was all so one-sided and unexpected. I still went to season 7, cause i wanted to see Misha as the big evil of the season. And then he dies in second episode. I stop watching live. I still binge a few epis in a row at some points but they lose me completely when Bobby dies. Then i see some comments abt how Cas has come back on the site i had been watching on and went to see and he came back! Dean keeping his coat was another eye-brow moment. But then they left him. Anyway, watched the epis i hadn't seen and was exited for s8. No Cas. By episode 2 i believe Dean had killed him or smth (cause of how cagy he was and how much it effected him). I stop watching again, but can't resist for long. Dean refuses to leave him behind and i'm like 'when did you start loving him back?' and then, oh man, that epi when he comes back. On one hand i wanted Dean to dream abt him like that, on the other, i wanted him back for real. I guess i had started 'shipping' them gradually, but i had no idea wtf shipping is at the time. Still very GA. The crypt scene comes along, i gotta watch away cause, you should know, i'm not into actual 'i-love-yous' and melodrama. I like to think abt it and create scenarios of my own, but i get bored seeing it in shows. I like it a lot more when it's shown in actions and veiled a little, creates more suspense. Anyway, they're family. I had thought season finale is gonna be Cas breaking free but i guess he's sidelined again, even though his story in season 8 was the most interesting part of it for me. (i thought the tablets and closing hell was so stupid, you had peace and all, why go around poking with a stick?) From then on, i wasn't watching live anymore. I checked in a few times a year and binged several epis in a row. Then comes season 11. I start watching live again and i go to Youtube again, watch a few crack vids, watch a few destiel vids, watch sdcc panels. Castiel says yes to Lucifer and i'm like wtf i need a new episode right now! I need more content! And then i come to Tumblr. I peak around, block a nasty bronly, curate my dash. I read a beautiful meta abt Dean being bi and everything clicks into place. They are in love! So that's the story of how i started shipping destiel. But cockles, just, I started to actually watch the panels. I saw a few gifs on my dash, I saw posts abt polyamory. I still tried to stay away from the cast opinions and stuff, i've never, never been interested in actors' lives. But they continued to lure

me in. Their panels are hilarious and you can see they really care for each other. Once you get past Jensen's grumpy man act and once you get past the performance Misha constantly puts on, you start to understand them a little bit. Most things can be explained away by them just joking around and being entertainers. It's all the tiny things put together. It's the things you know are not for audience. I slipped in casually, just observing. I still don't have a 'need' to know, i don't ship them as far as shipping goes. I just take them as they are. They are so sweet on each other. I love to see that. They are also dirty-minded as fuck. Especially with each other. And then there was 'Mish. Dee.' What else am i to think of that? I just hope they're happy and i love seeing them together because they love being together. No matter what their relationship happens to be. long story short: i blame Youtube and Tumblr and the hivemind that is fandom. and Andrew Dabb for making Cas say yes to Lucifer.

absolutely amazing thank you for sharing sfjhjsdfs

#stage chemistry anon

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codenamewitcher · 4 years

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Betrayal || The Mandalorian x reader

A/N: So I was doing a deep dive on Wookiepedia and I came across Darth Traya's page and found this quote: "Know that there was once a Darth Traya. And that she cast aside that role, was exiled, and found a new purpose. But there must always be a Darth Traya, one that holds the knowledge of betrayal. Who has been betrayed in their heart, and will betray in turn." and it gave me an idea for this fic so here we are. Also I don't know if this will be a oneshot or a series, I left it where if I decide to make it multiple parts I can do that, but if I don't it's able to stand alone. But if I do make it into a series and you want to be tagged, let me know!

This is my first Star Wars based fanfic, so I hope that y'all like it, and thank you for taking the time to read this!

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x force sensitive!reader ; Din Djarin x ex-Empire!reader ; Din Djarin x F!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, cursing, a little angsty

Song: Start - Ellie Goulding, serpentwithfeet

Betrayal is like playing with fire, you're just asking for the betrayed to turn around and bite you right back. My Jedi Master was playing with it when he handed me over to the Empire in order to gain a higher ranking within the hierarchy. Shortly after I was tortured by Darth Sidious who promised the safety of my family if I pledged my loyalty to the Galactic Empire, and I did. I didn't hold onto much hope for the Jedi's to come save me once I first got captured because I knew that the moment one started going to the dark side, they would never fully be light again. And it angered me that they gave up on me because going to the dark side was never much of a choice I had, because every time I showed any form of resistance in going dark, Sidious had no problem dragging my sister in and causing her some type of pain until I did what he said.

For 6 years, I served the Empire as a flight commander, doing things that I didn't want to do, nor I am proud of. Starting on my seventh year, a year before the Battle of Endor, Sidious failed to uphold his end of the deal and killed my family. He blamed it on the Rebellion, but I didn't believe him because I knew his handy work along with the Rebellion's, and all the signs pointed to him. So, with nothing or no one no longer holding me back, I began to feed the Rebellion any information I held on the Empire. I continued to stay with the Empire during that time, taking enjoyment in watching as every information leak chipped away at the Empire, but also waiting for the prefect moment to enact my revenge which ended up being during that fateful battle. I didn't go after Sidious; I knew what battles were and weren't mine. During that last year I also rekindled the relationship I once held with my old Jedi Master and in the time of that battle, I killed him. I would be lying if I said it didn't hurt when I did, but his betrayal hurt more.

Afterwards I finally left the Empire and spent the last five years hunting down ex-Imperial officers and saving innocents from their grasp, doing what was never done for me. Which that path lead me here on Nevarro standing face-to-face, blaster-to-blaster with a Mandalorian, the only thing preventing me from shooting him was the shiny, new beskar armor that gave me an idea on exactly who he was and what he did. I knew using the force was always an option but that came with consequences, like remnants of the Empire finding out that I was still alive; I worked hard on keeping my identity a secret. I've only ever used it when I found myself in life-threatening situations where everything else failed, the same goes for the light saber that sat at my waist, hidden by the cloak I wore.

"So, you're the bounty hunter who handed the child over." I state, breaking the tense silence between us. "Do you have any idea on what you've done?"

The Mandalorian's body tensed up further than it already was, and his body shifted in the slightest, he was trying to contain whatever anger he held under his armor.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" His modulated voice snapped.

"Fixing your mistake. What are you doing here?" I ignored the other question, not wanting to give him my name.

"Fixing my mistake." He grunted, I was a little shocked with him admitting that, most of the people I know and have come across, refuse to take responsibly for their mistakes.

Before I could get another word in, a stormtooper walked into the hall we were in. The Mandalorian turned and shoot him down while I took that as my chance to shoot the electronic panel to the door adjacent to me. I could feel the child in there through the force, which I also used to keep tabs on the Mandalorian behind me, not trusting him one bit. As the door slid open, I had enough time to avoid a blaster shot, which hit the Mandorlian's armor, and quickly shoot down the offending stormtrooper. I turned the corner to find Imperial Doctor Pershing standing next to a operating table that had the child strapped down on. I raised my blaster, aiming it at Perching's head while the Mandalorian stepped up next to me aiming his on the machine hooked onto the ceiling about to perform a task on the child. I could feel that there was an unspoken understanding between the two of us to protect the child, but I still didn't trust him because I knew the moment we got out of this, we were going to get into a fight on who takes the child.

"No, no, no, please." Pershing begged as he held up a hand in the air, surrendering. The Mandalorian shot down the machine while I stepped forward to Perching. "No, no, please, don't hurt him, he's just a child."

An icy like feeling spread throughout my veins as I looked at the Doctor and anger begun boiling its way up through my body as I grabbed Pershing by the collar and threw him up against the wall, my blaster lodging itself underneath his chin.

"Please."

"Shut up." I hissed but before I could say anything else, the Mandalorian spoke up.

"What did you do to it?" Pershing started his rumblings again but the Mandalorian cut him off. "What did you do to it?"

"I-I'm protecting him, I'm protecting him. If it wasn't for me, he would've already been dead, please." With that, I let go of him and he crumpled to the floor, before I could step away, he looked up and seen my face under the hood, by the widening of his eyes and how he tried to back himself further away from me but couldn't due to the wall, I knew he recognized who I was. "I'm so sorry about what I helped him do to your family, I'm trying to m-"

Without hesitation I grabbed his head and brought it down on my knee, knocking him out and breaking his nose. It took every bit of self-restraint I held to keep from killing the doctor, the broken nose and concussion would be considered a mercy if I'd let myself go on a full rampage. I turned around to find the Mandalorian looking at me, the child cradled in his left arm, his blaster was still in his hand but was pointed at the floor. I knew he was suspicious of me by his grip on the blaster, ready to be raised, aimed, and fired whenever.

It didn't take but a second for me to notice the stormtrooper quietly coming up behind the Mandalorian ready to shoot him, but I was quick in my actions of slightly pushing him out of the way and shooting the trooper down.

"We need to go."

"You're not coming with me." The Mandalorian walked ahead of me out to the hallway, the child still tucked in his arm. I let out a snort and followed him.

"You think I'm leaving you alone with the child?" I asked, after we shot down two more troopers, he turned to look at me. I felt another stormtrooper headed in my direction, so I turned around and raised my blaster. Just as the door slid open, not giving the trooper a chance, I fired my weapon, knocking him back and killing him.

I turned back to the Mandalorian but didn't get the chance to figure out what he was going to say back because three other doors leading into the room we were in opened and stormtroopers started walking in.

"Freeze!"

"Don't move!"

My back came in contact with the Mandalorian's as eight stormtroopers in total filed into the room.

"Hands up! Drop the blaster!" The Mandalorian and I hold our hands up, blasters dangling from our fingers.

"Wait. What I'm holding is very valuable." I feel the Mandalorian start to kneel behind me. "Here."

I continued standing, internally weighting my options. I could easily take all of them out with the force, but if I did that, the remains of the Empire would know I'm still alive and would hunt me down. I also knew that if I allowed myself and the child to be captured, the Empire would torture us to death, and I was not going back to the Empire. But then again there's the fact that Pershing seen my face and that Jedi were the enemies of Mandalorians.

But he's protecting the child, surely, he knows.

"Drop your blaster and get down." A trooper in front of me yells, taking a step closer to me.

I take a deep breath and slowly start to lower myself down, I hear the child whimper, and I just as I was about to make my decision to use the force, I heard the slight sound of one of the Mandalorian's vambrace weapons lock into place. I froze, dropping my blaster to the floor, knowing that whatever the Mandalorian was about to do, I did not want to move and become a target.

"Stand up." Then whatever weapon he charged up was released, a whistling sound followed thin projectiles that blew up when they found their mark. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding after the troopers were down and there was no longer a sign of immediate danger coming from the Mandalorian's vambrace. I felt him move behind me and him pick up his blaster, I followed suit, and followed him out onto the street.

It was quiet between the two of us as we walked down the street, the townspeople and visitors watching our every move made my skin crawl, their stares making me feel restless and like a caged animal. I eventually felt a few people following us and could barely hear the quiet beeping of a tracking fob.

"We're being followed." I whispered as we entered the town square.

"I know." The Mandalorian muttered back, we slowly came to a stop in the middle of the square as armed bounty hunters surrounded us, blasters trained directly on the two of us. A man walked out and blocked the town exit, and by the looks of it, he was a dealer for the bounty hunters.

"Welcome back, Mando!" His right hand moved to his hip, grabbing the handle of his blaster, but not yet taking it out of its holster. "Now put the package down."

Anxiety crawled its way up my throat and in my mind, there was no way I could take this many people down using the force, it would leave me too exhausted. Despite spending years under Sidious' rule, being trapped like this never sat right with me, it brought back way too memories that needed to stay buried deep within my subconscious.

I took deep breaths in and out trying to keep the anxiety at bay, knowing that I could lose control if I didn't calm the hell down.

"Step aside, we're going to my ship." The Mandalorian spoke beside me, I was a little surprised at the mention of ‘we’.

The bounty hunter smiled. "You put the bounty down and perhaps I'll let you pass."

"The kid's coming with me."

"If you truly care about the kid, then you'll put it on the speeder, and we'll discuss terms."

The Mandalorian turned his head to look at the speeder next to me, the labor droid beeping under the Mandalorian's stare.

"How do I know I can trust you?" I tensed; he wasn't going to give the kid up, right?

"Don't do it." I lowly hissed. The familiar feeling of betrayal started to set in and I froze yet again. What the hell was wrong with me, I haven't even known the Mandalorian for 30 minutes and I allowed myself to trust that he would protect the kid?

"Because I'm your only hope." The bounty hunter states, not at all seeming fazed by this predicament.

The Mandalorian walked past me but stopped at the edge of the speeders trailer, looking down at the child.

That son of a bitch.

Anger started to regain its grasp on me and started to drown out the anxiety with the pounding of my heart being heard in my ears and my blood beginning to boil. It became clearer to me today that no matter how hard I try, the anger I held while I was the commander I once was still lived within me despite hating that part of myself, never wanting to be like that, and trying everything to destroy that part of me. But somethings from the past carry themselves with you to the present and this just so happens to be one of those things.

I also knew this anger wasn't just towards the Mandalorian, but towards myself, everyone who had their blasters pointed at me and the child, and at the makers of this galaxy for letting it be like this. I'm so sick and tired of being fucked with and having my hand forced into things I did not want to do. But I knew before I did anything drastic, I needed to wait for the Mandalorian to put the child down so I curled my free hand into a fist, nails biting into my palms skin, but the sting was a welcomed feeling.

The Mandalorian turn his head to look back at me, taking note of my anger, and then he did the unexpected by grabbing his blaster and shooting a hunter. He was quick in hooking his elbow around my arm and throwing all three of us in the speeder. My back hit the bottom of the spender, knocking the wind and anger out of me and causing black spots to cloud my vision. Blaster bolts bounced off the speeder while the Mandalorian point his gun at the droid, yelling at it to drive. I gasped for air, panic settling once again because I couldn't breathe, and my arms were not doing what they were told. It felt like hours, but I knew it was only seconds when I finally regained my breathing.

The speeder begun moving as the Mandalorian started shooting at the hunters. Once I regained function over my body, I fumbled for my blaster, and aided the Mandalorian in shooting down bounty hunters.

Oh, how I'm going to kill that fucking tin can once we make it out of this.

We'd made it a great distance towards the exit before someone shot the droid, causing the speeder to stop abruptly and send me and the Mandalorian flying into some of the barrels on the speeder.

I gritted my teeth in pain as the Mandalorian slowly grabbed the sniper rifle and aimed it up at one of the roofs. He fired the weapon, the target being reduced to ashes, killing him, and then aimed at another. I let him do his thing as I slowly moved my body away from the edge of the barrel digging into my back. I finally reached for and grabbed my spare blaster once I got away from the offending barrel and begun taking out hunters that had yet to scatter in fear of the rifle.

"That's one impressive weapon." The bounty dealer yelled out.

The Mandalorian and I stopped, and he turned his head in the direction of the bounty dealer's voice.

"Here's what I'll do. We're going to walk to my ship with the kid and you're gonna let it happen."

I clenched my fist again; the anger crept its way back in. I knew, even though I didn't know the bounty dealer, I knew the he wasn't going to back down, and let us walk away like the Mandalorian suggested. The next thing he said proved my suspicions right.

"No. How about this." I nudged the Mandaloria's foot with my own, gaining his attention, pointing around us at the hunters I just noticed creeping up on us. He nodded his head in return and turned back to his rifle. "We take the kid, and if you and that that girl try to stop us, we kill both of you and we strip your body for parts."

The Mandalorian kicked the barrel out besides me, causing it fly into a hunter who he then electrocuted with his rifle. He got back down to reload his weapon and I shot up shooting down some more hunters. Behind me I heard the Mandalorian get back up and shot out with the flamethrower in his vambrace. It didn't take long for it to run out of gas and the two of us were back down again, taking cover.

He looked down at the kid, I could tell defeat was settling in. As I watched the two, I couldn't help from being reminded of my family, and I knew right then that this child could not, whatsoever, go back to the Empire's grasp even if it meant I went back.

"Do you know about the powers the child holds?" I decided to ask him, knowing that this would either end up in me using the force or us being dead and the kid taken if I didn't do something. He looks up at me and nods his head in the slightest. "I have the same powers; I'll be able to hold them back long enough for you to get to your ship with the kid and leave."

His body froze at my confession. "That's why you came, you're like the kid."

"Yes."

"Then why haven't you used it yet?" There was a hint of anger in his voice, but I didn't blame him, I had him believing I was just an ordinary human being.

"Because with what I'll have to do, it'll exhaust and weaken me, and I would just hold you back. So, I must know that you can make it out with the child, and that you don't move until I go down because I can possibly take you down too."

The Mandalorian nods his head in understanding.

"Okay." I close my eyes and took a deep breath in, remembering the fear I felt with Sidious' torture, the pain of being betrayed by my Jedi Master, the Jedi turning their back on me because I was considered too far gone in the dark side even though it was never my choice, and then the anger of having my hand forced, Sidious killing my family, and how the Empire continued in wanting to hurt innocent people and the child. I held that breath in as I got up, letting those emotions settle, and when I'm finally to my feet, I exhale, letting all of those emotions out into a pulse of force. It knocked everyone on the ground back, some hunters flying into walls, object being knocked into some more, and others just falling on their backs, getting the wind knocked out of them. The only area that wasn't hit was the area of the speeder and the hunters on the roof.

After the release of energy, I couldn't keep from my knees going out beneath me, but before I hit the hard metal of the speeder, the Mandalorian caught me and gently laid me down. Why wasn't he going?

"Go." I whispered out, I was so mentally and physically drained that it took a lot of effort into saying that single word. He nodded and picked up the kid, cradling him in his arms once again, blaster in his other hand.

Before he got the chance to stand up and jump out of the cart, a flare shot across the sky and hit a roof with a hunter on it. My eyes started to burn with unshed tears at the sound of more blasters being fired, I couldn't see anything that was going to on out there, but it didn't sound good. I wanted to cry in frustration, my own hope of the child getting out drained out of my body.

"Get out of here! We'll hold them off." A modulated voice spoke that was not the Mandalorian's voice in front of me.

There was more of them?

"You're going to have to relocate the covert." The Mandalorian spoke to someone off to the side.

"This is the Way." The other voice spoke, the Mandalorian repeated the phase back.

Out of the corner of my eye I watched as the Mandalorian moved over to me and placed the kid in my arms.

"Hold onto him." It took everything in me to wrap my arms around the creature, but I held onto him as the Mandalorian picked me up in his arms and got out of the speeder. Over his shoulder I seen the hunters that had ran off when the Mandalorian got out his rifle were back and more Mandalorians out on the field firing back at them.

The Mandalorian ran with me and the child in his arms up to his ship, which we surprisingly made it to without running into anyone. He walked up the ramp of his ship and right as soon as he sat me and the child down on the floor and against a wall, our momentary luck ran out.

"Hold it, Mando." The bounty dealer said as he claimed down from some compartment within the Mandalorian's ship, the dealer had his blaster trained on the Mandalorian's back. He slowly stood up and turned to face the man. "I didn't want it to come to this, but then you broke the Code."

The Mandalorian's head glanced to his side and then he shot out a whipcord at a control panel, causing the compartment to fill up with steam. I held the child close to me as the bounty dealer blindly shot into the steam in which the Mandalorian disappeared in. Then, out of nowhere, he shot his blaster and hit the dealer in the chest, knocking him down.

The Mandalorian wasted no time in kicking his body down the ramp and the pulling the ramp back up. He walked back through the ship and as he pasted by to go up to what I assumed was the cockpit, he told me to stay put - like I could go anywhere anyways.

Shortly after, the ship started to take off.

The child cooed, I looked down at him to find a green hand reaching up towards my face. I reached one of my own hands up and grabbed his, smiling down at him, as his three little fingers wrapped around my thumb, melting my heart in the process.

"You know, I once knew someone that was like you. I wish I knew where he came from so, I could take you back to your family, but sadly I don't." The child cooed once again.

I heard the clank of the Mandalorian's boots before I seen him, he walked over to me and the child, squatting down and reaching his hand out to the child, a small metal ball in his hand. He dropped it in the child's outreached hand.

"We're in hyperspace now." He finally spoke as he sat down on the floor, watching the child play with the ball while continuing to hold onto my thumb. A smile found its way to my lips as a thought crossed my mind.

"I thought you said I wasn't coming with you." I joked, the Mandalorian shook his head.

"That's was before you admitted to having the same power as the kid."

"So, you kidnapped me." I hummed and he snorted at that remark.

"You seemed pretty reluctant on going wherever the child went." I leaned my head back, closing my eyes as I let out a soft chuckle at his remark.

"You know both me and the child will but hunted down now, right?"

"I know."

I wanted to make another comment but the adrenaline from the fight was gone, and exhaustion was pulling me into its deep, dark depths that I couldn't formulate any sentences in my hand and mouth did not want to open. The last thing I heard was the child's coos before sleep pulled me under.

— ‡ —

If you want to check out my other works, my masterlist is in my bio, tumblr’s tagging system messes up when I link stuff.

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x y/n #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x y/n #mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #din djarin #star wars x reader #star wars x you #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian imagine #mandalorian imagine #star wars imagine #star wars

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sugawara-sweetheart · 3 years

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Lovely would like to hear your thoughts 💕💕💕 and i felt that--my friends are anime only peeps 🥺🥺🥺 AAAAAAAAA PLS i just wanna hear ur thoughts and and what did disc boi say?

omg omg I have so many thoughts so ill write them all out here + people who have read the manga can read. if anybody does send asks based off any jjk manga content plEASE PLEASE PUT A SPOILER WARNINGS IN BOLD AT THE TOP OF YOUR ASK!!

JJK MANGA SPOILERS

kokichi being the traitor was a complete surprise to me but I understand him. he just really wanted to be a normal teenager and thats not something I can fault him for. I understand and his death hurt a little bc mahito really uses people as he wishes and throws them away. also I feel like his death was a redemption for him even though a betrayal is a pretty huge thing. I pity him though and I wish him and miwa could've been happy in another world.

gojo past arc- HES SUCH A FUCKING FOOL I- AGSJSGS HE DRIVES ME CRAZY AND I LOVE HIM but his and getou’s break up hurt. its so bizarre how two best friends went down such two different paths and getou’s development was such a huge shock. as for toji, he was fucking deadbeat. but he loved megumi so much (and my anime watcher friend doesnt get that but I cant spoil it for her) and when he commits suicide in the Shibuya arc to protect megumi, my heart broke. he genuinely loved megumi and abandoned him + sold him to the zenin clan because he wanted to give him the best chance that he could never have as a non-jujutsu thingy person. like the zenin clan is fucking shit but everything that happened to toji was awful and he could've been a good father if it wasnt for that clan. I dont think toji is a bad person, just driven to doing bad things because its the only way to have a best life.

shibuya arc is crazy. im super shocked ans stunned at all the shit that happened and I cant believe gojo got trapped. Nanami’s death also hurt as fuck because he looked so..at peace? but hurt as he left everything up to itadori and trusted him (im tearing up as I write this) and its so crazy how he finds the jujutsu world shit but gave his life for it. kugisaki as well- ik they haven't said explicitly shes dead but shes not shown up and it fucking hurts me too that they've lost of their own and I cant even imagine how megumi and itadori feel.

also when sukuna came along, im so 🥺for inumaki and I hope hes okay. sukuna was fucking hot though and I hope when they animate it they make him rip off itadori’s clothes again. getou’s body also being used by that curse user kamo was fucking crazy too that manga panel scared me but like hes still sexy...but im so worried about the culling game, im scared theyre gonna have to turn on each other (as in the jujutsu sorcerers) in this fight to the death sort thing. and I love choso hes such an amazing big brother- though I once read a theory that they think itadori’s granddad basically cursed him? or something to make him have the ability to alter people’s memories and make them believe theyre itadori’s brothers (i.e choso and toudou who have genuine false memories) and I dont think its entirely impossible, especially considering the little crumb we have of itadori’s parents, his mother in particular.

I also love naoya zenin but I really want megumi to become the leader of the zenin clan and clean up that shitshow. also yuuta- I loved him and then hated him when I thought he'd actually kill itadori and now I love him again!!!

also bonus, I love getou bc he was like I wanna fuck up shit but I also gotta take my girls to a crepe shop ahahaha <333

also disc boy basically validated my feelings about the manga and toji bc my friend wont and agreed hes a dilf :))

#sweetheart asks <3 #sweetheart: anon

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stuckonvenus · 3 years

Text

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 » Ellie & Becca

Ｊｕｌｙ３１ｓｔ，１９９８

The saying goes as such: the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb... or whatever. Honestly I have only ever applied this proverb to my relationship with my sister whenever we weren’t in mortal peril. While I have plenty of friends and acquaintances who I’ve shared battlefields with (i.e. the morning after a party), that never made me any closer to them in a real crisis. I would say about seventy-five percent of the time that the blood is thicker than the water, and the remaining twenty-five percent is when the water isn’t necessarily thicker, but more pressurized. That’s the only time in our lives when we’ve ever come together as sisters.

Well, this is the twenty five percent, and never has the feeling of being sucked and trapped against a fissure at the bottom of the Challenger Deep been more realized than now. It doesn’t help that my bladder is about to implode and leak the citrus-flavored toxic waste I’ve consumed in rapid succession over the past half hour into my visceral fat and contaminate all my vital organs.

I waddle awkwardly through the narrow doorway of Page One and slam my tiny palm onto the countertop. A bookkeeper who I can recognize as my lab partner from sophomore year chemistry pokes his nose out from the novel he’s immersed in. Moby Dick. Jesus, who reads school assigned books after graduation?

“Hey, Drew-Drew,” I greet him, a lopsided grin fitted on my lips as he brushes his hair out of his eyes and offers me a smile in return. He has a lot more charisma than I remember. I think his eyes have gotten bigger and bluer, too. It reminds me of the water’s surface I’m staring up at from the very bottom of the ocean. “Where’s Becky at?”

Drew dog-ears his page — which is kind of disgusting to me, do they not sell bookmarks in this busted ass joint? — and he points toward the graphic novel section. “Over there, we just got Spider-Man #76, she’s stocking up.”

“... Didn’t #76 come out in January? Of last year?” I ask him. He opens his mouth so he can answer but I stop him with a raised hand. “No time. You’re lookin’ good, Drew-Drew, considerably less like a delicious pepperoni pizza. Keep it up with the Oxy Pads.” I say before pushing away from the counter and venturing off to my destination.

Indeed, my older sister is crouched down and rustling with a display, slightly disgruntled by the symmetry of the copies of Spider-Man she’s stocking. I don’t really have any witty remarks as a smooth enough introduction, so I settle with, “Need help?”

She whips around and I can almost hear the crack in her spinal cord from the velocity. “Lily?” she half-whispers. I forget that I haven’t seen her since late May, and also that I swore I’d never see her again.

“In the flesh,” I confirm and do a curtsey, which threatens my full bladder. I really need to piss soon or else I’ll die a terribly death in the shittiest bookstore on the eastern seaboard. “Do you have a sec? It’s 9-1-1.”

Becca’s expression shifts from awe and minor annoyance to something resembling concern as she pushes herself off her knees. “What is it?” she asks me, crossing her arms over her chest as a last resort defense mechanism.

I don’t hesitate to hold up the plastic Walgreens bag I’ve carted with me for two blocks. She recognizes the items inside and her eyes go all moony and her jaw slacks a bit. I jerk my brows up expectantly and she assumes the position of utter bewilderment.

“Do you have a place I can empty the biohazardous contents of my bladder? It’s about to necrotize,” I hiss at her. She reaches down, digs in her pocket, unearths a bronze key and walks ahead of me at full speed. I have to waddle after her like a newly hatched penguin chick. It would be more humiliating if over half the population of Eden were literate, but alas...

Becca jams the keys into the lock and just about bodychecks the door so we can enter the rectangular bathroom. It’s cramped and the lighting resembles something out of a Hitchcock film, but who the fuck am I to be picky about where I take the most important whizz of my life?

I place the bag on the counter and take out the three empty full-sized cans of Surge I used to fuel my bladder before picking up the grossest thing I have ever held: a pregnancy test. I keep it in my grasp for a few passing beats, nearly crushing the box underneath my iron-tight grip before man-handling it open and tearing out the plastic stick that will determine my fate.

“This is by far the most unholy fortune telling experience ever,” I decide to joke as I witness my sister cower in the corner. You’d think by the looks of it she were the one whose life was about to change forever. “You think if I shake it a genie will come out and grant me three wishes?”

“... Only if it’s negative, as a gift,” Becca chimes in at last. “Otherwise not even God can save you.”

I let out an involuntary snort, because while my reflexes register this as a funny joke, I am actually scared shitless.

I stare at the porcelain toilet bowl. I feel sicker now looking at it than when I’ve genuinely been at risk for vomiting up my lunch. I could still do that, I’ve been puking like a bulimic for weeks now. The thought is almost comforting. Almost. I bite the bullet instead and yank my pants down, my boy pants, which I normally wear as a boy when I’ve got slightly wider hips and more junk to hide and taller legs to protect with denim fabric. Fuck me.

“I just... Hold it and piss, right?” I ask her, as if she’s gone through this before. I know for a fact she hasn’t, or else this wouldn’t be our first time. I’m surprised it’s our first time, actually, thinking that karma would’ve caught up with me a long time ago.

“Just don’t get any on your hand.” Becca replies. Very helpful, I think, but rather than respond verbally I give a sigh of defeat and do what needs to be done. When my bladder is emptied an eternity later, I pull up my oversized pants and briefly grieve my dick before I place the test on the counter.

I glance over my shoulder at Becca, “It’s seasoned. Just gotta let it marinate.”

“Gross.” she says with a scrunched up nose.

I turn around and slide down the wall, an action she mimics a couple seconds later. I stare ahead, up at the light that’s screwed into a 70s pendant-shaped fixture, and pass the silence by making them flicker. I do this as a distraction from the materializing tension between us. Normally, this doesn’t happen, but then again our peril has only involved either extreme intoxication, pedos on AOL (during high school), or something about her and Gabriel’s arguments, which felt like walking through Reactor 4 in Chernobyl.

She’s the first one to say something.

“Whose is it? ... If it’s a thing,” she wonders, and as I look over at her I notice that her eyebrows are knitted together and her mouth is fixed downward. “... Please don’t tell me Topher’s.”

I chuckle at the idea. “I think if it were a thing and Topher’s, it’d have grown like a xenomorph baby and ripped itself out of my stomach by now,” I tell her. “I’d deserve that kind of karma for getting knocked up by him.”

“Xenomorph?” she says, and I open my mouth to offer an explanation before she finishes, “Alien. Right.”

“... Yeah, exactly,” I nod along. How in the hell did she remember that? We only ever sat through Alien and Aliens once, and I could’ve sworn she was too preoccupied reading a magazine to actually notice what was happening on screen.

I also notice that she’s wearing my favorite striped turtleneck. Stone cold bitch.

Some things never change, huh?

Shit, I think I might cry.

This is why we’re siblings, I think, so I can hate her for wearing my favorite turtleneck while sitting by her side as we await Satan’s final decision on the state of my cursed uterus.

Tears prickle my vision but I blink them away.

“Whose is it, then?” she wonders again. I visibly tense. This is probably where our unspoken, once-in-a-blue-moon loyalties end. How do you tell your sister that her ex-boyfriend is the reason you’re sitting in the dingy bathroom of her workplace with a piss-riddled stick inches away?

In the end, I don’t have to say anything at all. We look at each other simultaneously and she reads my expression with ease. Her features soften and I can see a glint of hurt in her eyes, and I expect ripples of betrayal to make themselves known across the rest of her body soon enough. But those ripples never come. The water I thought was loosening from around me doesn’t make a goddamn move.

I’m still at the bottom of the Deep, but she’s with me now.

Her hand grips mine. Tight. I can feel our pulses match up in our paralleling wrists.

“I think it’s been enough time.” I say eventually. She doesn’t release my hand. Our shared warmth creates a comfortable friction between us. “... Will you hate me after this?”

Becca squeezes my hand. A heart beat jumps out from her touch to mine. “I think I’ve hated you enough for one summer.”

A smile flickers on the corner of my lips and I slowly depart my hand from hers. My palm is slick with sweat but I don’t mind. I stand up and feel my equilibrium struggle to steady itself before I’m ready to approach the counter. The test is still there, so I know this wasn’t an abstract fever dream I’ve had after discovering so much eerily similar history.

I’m not a fucking coward. I’m looking this shit straight on, no matter what. Do you think I’m afraid of a sign? Totally not. I lean over and stare down, my gaze idling at the base before finally fixating on the panel.

Holy shitstickers.

“... Becca?” I call out, my voice half gone from unknown forces. She perks up and I see her reflection in the mirror with widened eyes. “Do you have five bucks? I’m gonna need more Surge.”

#self-para #teheheh i couldnt nap until i finished this

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charmingnines · 4 years

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waking up - hankcon fic

summary:

“Heard you cryin’ out,” Hank said, studying Connor's face. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Connor shuddered. “I think some of my memories played back while I was in stasis,” he said. “But they were twisted and- and wrong. Amanda took control of me and I-” Connor looked down at his hands. They were shaking. Hank grabbed Connor’s hands and squeezed.

Connor's fears about what could've been play out in a nightmare. Hank comforts him.

read it on ao3

or read it below vvv

When Connor had first moved in, he'd used Hank’s sleeping hours to be productive. Within the first week, he’d deep cleaned the entire house and had read every book Hank owned. After that, he’d taken to teaching a sleepy Sumo new tricks.

Around the twentieth time Connor had told Sumo to ‘roll over!’ and Sumo had simply cocked his head, a bleary-eyed Hank had come out of his room. He’d tugged on Connor’s hand and said, “Can’t sleep when you’re fucking around with Sumo.” Connor had pat Sumo’s head and let Hank pull him into bed.

Connor got used to going into stasis while Hank slept. He didn’t mind the extra, if unnecessary rest. It made him feel closer to Hank. Emotionally closer, yes, but also literally closer. Hank, Connor found, didn’t care to have any personal space while he slept. Hank would throw his arm around Connor’s waist, tangle their legs together, and rest his head in the crook of Connor’s neck.

Hank had asked once, before he fell asleep, what stasis was like. Connor had to think for a moment, never having described it before. While in stasis, Connor was vaguely aware of everything around him, the feeling of the bedsheets, of Hank’s comforting warmth. But, at the same time, his body was focused on routine upkeep.

Connor himself didn’t have to consciously do anything. Before, he’d use his time in stasis to take walks around his garden. After he’d deviated, he’d gotten rid of the garden, shuddering at the bad memories it brought up. He’d replaced it with a dog park, programming various breeds he’d seen before to run around and play in it. No Saint Bernards, though. That felt like a betrayal to Sumo.

After staying late at the DPD, Connor and Hank crawled into bed as soon as they got home. Smiling slightly at how quickly Hank fell asleep, Connor went into stasis. He materialized in his dog park. Dozens of dogs ran around the wide grassy area. A yellow lab approached Connor, nudging at his leg. Connor threw the lab a frisbee.

Mid-chase, the lab seemed to disappear. Connor blinked, confused. Perhaps something was wrong with his programming? As he looked around the park, all of the dogs blinked out of existence. Then, the ground started to fracture, as if there were an earthquake. The ground split beneath him and then he was falling.

Connor fell hard, dropping into a snowdrift. He whipped his head around, alarmed. He was back in his garden, perfectly replicated, as though he’d never deleted it. He tensed as Amanda’s voice echoed around the space, taunting him. “Oh, Connor, did you really think you could be in control?”

Connor squeezed his eyes shut and when he opened them he was standing on a stage. In front of him was Markus, making a speech about equality, and freedom, and making history. Connor’s hand shook as he reached for his gun-

Then Connor was back in his garden. It was snowing so heavily he could hardly see. He knew he needed to find the back door, the one Kamski had told him about. If he squinted, he could see a faint blue glow. He made his way toward it, the snow and wind pushing against him. Just as he reached the glowing blue panel, he felt his thirium freezing in his veins. He wasn't going to make it. Cyberlife was in control of his body-

Markus paused as the crowd of androids applauded his message. Connor aimed his gun at Markus' head-

“Connor? Connor!”

Connor startled awake, scrambling into a sitting position, eyes darting around the room.

“Everything’s okay, you’re safe,” Hank said.

Connor focused on Hank’s voice, gaining his bearings. Logically, he knew he had found the back door and that Markus was alive and well. But it had seemed so real-

“It’s not real,” Hank said, wrapping his arms tightly around Connor. Connor dropped his head onto Hank’s shoulder. “It’s not real,” Hank repeated. After a few moments, Connor pulled back, looking at Hank. “Heard you cryin’ out,” Hank said, studying Connor's face. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Connor shuddered. “I think some of my memories played back while I was in stasis,” he said. “But they were twisted and- and wrong. Amanda took control of me and I-” Connor looked down at his hands. They were shaking.

Hank grabbed Connor’s hands and squeezed. “Sounds like a nightmare.”

Connor frowned. “Androids aren’t even meant to dream.”

Hank raised an eyebrow. “They’re also not supposed to deviate.”

Connor’s weak laugh morphed into tears.

“Shit, Connor,” Hank said, wiping Connor’s tears away with his thumb. “You’re gonna make me cry, too.”

Connor’s laugh was watery.

“C’mere,” Hank said, lying back against their pillows. Connor curled up against Hank, head resting on his chest. Hank methodically ran his fingers through Connor’s hair. Through a yawn, Hank asked, “Do you want me to stay up with you?”

Connor looked up at Hank, blue eyes concerned, and felt something squeeze in his chest. Connor pressed a kiss to Hank’s lips. “No,” Connor said. “No, I can sleep.”

“You sure?” Hank asked.

“I’m sure,” Connor said, lying his head back down on Hank’s chest. Hank wrapped an arm around Connor’s shoulders.

“I love you,” Hank murmured, already falling asleep.

Connor closed his eyes, comforted by the steady beat of Hank’s heart. “I love you, too.”

#me posting fics in the middle of the night: this is fine #hankcon #hank anderson #dbh connor #hankcon fic #dbh fic #detroit become human #dbh #my fics

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stevedrysdale · 4 years

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XOXO Steve, This Year

Summary: Valentine’s Day, somehow you found yourself with your best friend Steve making poor decisions. “Promise me one thing sweetheart, if this time next year we’re both alone you’ll be mine. Just for the night.” Steve asked you. But he wasn’t being very honest with you, he wasn’t really a one night kind of guy.

Warnings: This is a dark fic that is 18+, with pregnancy mentions, ABO, d/s dynamics, and hinted stalking

Previously: Last Year

February came fast, after a very forgettable January. This time you didn’t even bother trying to find a date for Valentine’s Day. You told yourself if any love was going to come into your life, you’d rather have it find you. You felt jaded about dating people, and ultimately unsatisfied. At this point it was just easier to be alone.

You headed to Steve’s in comfy clothes, squeezing your way onto the subway. Steve told you he left the place unlocked for you, his new townhouse full of space and sweet privacy. Finally he was letting you come over and see the place.

He told you about it a few months ago. He wanted to leave the tower in favor of a more normal living environment, which meant buying a townhouse. You had been asking him for a while to come over but he always said that it wasn’t ready.

It was dark out when you walked up the steps, a welcome mat greeting you as you looked down. His lights outside were on but it didn’t seem like he was home, windows dark. But, he said to just come inside so you turned the unlocked door.

A path of rose petals lit by candles led through Steve’s foyer. You wondered if he had a date planned that cancel on it, but it was hard to imagine anyone ghosting Captain America. You never thought he would be this cheesy but then again he was pretty traditional. You left a six pack on his counter, following the trail.

The door to his bedroom was just slightly ajar, the room cast in a warm glow. “Steve?”

You opened the door, the trail of rose petals ending at the bed. You quickly checked your phone, making sure that you read it right that Steve said it was alright to come over, if there were any new texts. There was nothing, but there was a gift on the bed. Being nosy you decided to take a look.

“Oh…” You said to yourself, filtering through tissue paper to find a set of vintage lingerie. Pale blue lace over transparent panels, lined with silk in the same color. You wondered who Steve planned on giving this to.

“Do you like it?” A deep voice interrupted your thoughts. You turned around to see Steve with a glass of champagne in his hand, wearing a button up shirt that was definitely a size too small for his arms.

You felt your cheeks grow hot, “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here.”

“It’s alright I just got back.” He shrugged. His voice was rich and warm, his eyes lidded. You tried not to think about the bedroom eyes he was giving you, brushing it off.

Your eyes flickered to the champagne, “Are you celebrating something? It looks like you were supposed to have a hot date tonight.”

“I suppose you could say that, say do you remember our conversation Valentine’s Day last year?” He cocked his head.

“Not really, I was trashed that night.” You shrug.

“Yeah, you were. But our promise still stands.” He crossed his arms.

“Oh no, a promise? I wonder what embarrassing thing I agreed to do.”

Steve only grinned, laughing. He put his glass down, “I’ll tell you, but first I want to sit and enjoy a glass of champagne with my pal.”

Your eyes narrowed. “I see, we’re getting fancy tonight. Okay, I’m game. I guess I did make a promise.” You followed Steve to the living room where he had a fire going, champagne and a box of chocolates on his coffee table. He poured you a glass with his back turned to you, slipping a powder into your drink.

“Here you go sweetheart,” He handed the glass to you. Something didn't feel right.

“How about we do a toast?” You held up your glass.

Steve sat next to you on the couch, not leaving more than an inch of distance. “To us,” He clinked his glass against yours.

“To us.” You nodded, your hand trembling just slightly.

You sat with Steve watching the fire roar and crackle, both of you deep in thought. Something smelled good, intoxicating and masculine, very subtle but growing stronger. But you had more questions. “So anyways, did you have a date tonight or what?”

“I do.” He confirmed.

“Then what am I doing here? I don’t wanna cock block you, it seems like you could do well to relieve some tension.”

Steve’s eyes darkened, “Such vulgar words for a pretty mouth.”

“Steve,” You laughed off your discomfort. You didn’t know if it was the champagne but the way he was looking at you made you feel dizzy. He seemed to be closer now too, almost hovering over you against the couch. That musky scent of bergamot and pine only seemed to get stronger.

“I’ll tell you what you promised sweetheart, you promised to be mine for tonight. Did you think I would forget?”

You blanched, suddenly remembering the details of that conversation. “No but I didn’t think you’d hold me to it.”

“Doll, come on. You know I’m a man of my word.” He licked his lips, his voice growing husky.

You gave him an incredulous look. “Yes, I remember how entirely too serious you take things. Steve, really? We’re friends-we can’t! And you know I don’t do that with alphas, I won’t.” You scooted away from him.

Steve growled, looking ready to pounce. He was angry, growing more impatient with you by the minute. “I don’t think you get it honey, you don’t have a choice. You promised.” He placed his hand atop your thigh, firmly pressing down.

Your eyes grew wide with realization, breath hitching. You felt frozen at his touch.

His gaze softened at your panicked expression, “Oh sweetheart, it’ll be alright. We can take it slow.”

You gasped coming to your senses, scrambling to get off the couch and out of his townhouse. This had to be a joke, or a dream. You still felt like you were in shock over everything. Steve only watched you, “Don’t think I forgot what you said before. You wanted this doll, wanted to get straight to the good parts.”

He got up once you reached the door, trying to open a knob that was locked from the inside. Tears streamed down your cheeks at betrayal. Your mom always said never to be alone with an alpha, and you always thought Steve was the exception.

His dark voice taunted you, “I know you’re stubborn but you can’t fight it, it’s in our nature. Besides you don’t wanna see me angry, this night is supposed to be special. Don’t ruin that for us.”

You looked at Steve over your shoulder, his scent getting stronger, sharper. In a panic you began banging on the door, yelling for help.

A big hand pulled you away from the door, pulling you back so hard that it landed you hard on your ass. “You can scream all you want honey but all it’ll do is piss me off.”

He begins to stalk towards you, looming over you on the floor. His eyes hungrily searched over your body, dressed in a turtleneck and a loose fitting pair of pants. Seeing you dressed like that only gave him ideas.

You looked up at Steve, your bottom lip trembling. “Please, don’t do this.”

He only sighed, “But you wanted this doll, you said you loved me. I know you do, stop fighting it.” Steve traced his fingertips over your tear stained cheek, kneeling beside you on the floor. “Just relax.” He soothed you.

“Let me go Steve, I won’t tell anyone.” You sniffled, trying to compose yourself.

“No, I don’t want you to worry about that sweet omega. You’re safe here.” He continued to comfort you, his voice soft.

You hated the way that you were reacting to him, because with the way that he was touching and talking to you did make you feel safe - even when a part of your brain screamed danger. Another part of you just wanted to surrender yourself to Steve, to the alpha. It still hurt to disappoint him, you hated when he talked to you like he was a parent scolding a child.

“I had a question for you earlier that you never answered, did you like my present?”

You looked at him confused. Steve opened his mouth about to explain, before deciding he wanted to show you. He brought back the same bag you were sifting through earlier, the one you didn’t think was for you.

“I want you to put it on.” He held it out to you.

“No-” You shook your head frantically.

Steve cut you off before you could protest, “If you don’t put it on I’ll put it on for you,” He warned you.

You looked back out the window, the street was dark. You knew Steve didn’t have many neighbors in his new place. He didn’t like to be disturbed out here, it seemed like he had prepared for this day.

“Why are you doing this Steve?” It just didn't make sense. He could have any omega he wanted, you didn't understand why he chose you.

He only smiled. Steve loved the way you looked up at him with your doe eyes, your scent was growing even stronger now with your suppressants. You smelled so sweet he wanted to eat you up. He couldn’t resist pressing his nose to your neck, inhaling deeply.

“Don’t you feel it?” He murmured against your skin. “I know you’re on suppressants but they should be wearing off.” He pulled back to look at you.

“What?”

A shiver ran up your spine, your heart was beginning to race as he stared at you. With suppressants it was easy to forget what it felt like, the prickling sensation of an oncoming heat. He had done something to you. As a waft of his musky scent hit your senses you felt an involuntary gush of slick from your core.

Steve’s nostrils flared, his jaw clenching. “You do feel it, don’t deny it. I can smell it,” He rasped. “And look what you do to me, do you know how hard it is to work with you? Such a sweet smelling omega that’s just asking to be fucked by an alpha.” He palmed the bulge in his trousers, the air smelled like aggression and sex.

“I’m not-how? I don’t understand, I thought you said you couldn’t even tell the difference. My suppressants-”

Steve cut you off, “May mute your scent to other alphas, but not to me honey. It’s like torture being around you, seeing my mate go off with other men. Worthless betas.” He cursed under his breath.

“Jesus christ Steve, mates? That’s an old wives tale-mates don’t exist.” You were taken aback by the extent of his delusions.

“You’re wrong sweetheart, you’re wrong and I’m gonna show you. We’ve delayed long enough, time for you to get changed.” He shoved the bag in your arms, dragging you up to your feet. Steve was determined.

You fought against his hold as he carried you to his bedroom, but he was much stronger than you. The candles flickered tauntingly back at you. Steve’s grip like iron around your waist. You had to make a plan, but your mind began to grow frazzled with fever.

“I’ll give you five minutes, if you’re not dressed we’re doing things the hard way.” He closed the door to the bedroom, turning the lock. You scrambled to get changed, if you changed in one minute you’d have four more to look for an exit. If there even was one, you had a feeling that Steve had prepared for all contingencies. And if you did get out, who would believe you?

You were thankful that the lingerie didn’t leave you completely exposed, putting on the transparent fluffy robe for another layer of security. Moonlight Serenade started playing in the background, you could hear Steve distantly humming the jazzy tune.

You sniffled as you tied your robe tighter, “God Steve why couldn’t you just ask me out to dinner?” You mumbled to yourself. Your legs were beginning to feel shaky, painful cramps making you feel weak. You hurried over to the wall, pressing your ear against the cool surface and knocking gently against it.

Steve could hear you running around in there, no doubt trying to find an escape. But with a year’s notice for this night he had everything set in place, he wouldn’t let you hurt yourself with your foolish attempts. Five minutes for you to realize there was no way out, five minutes and hopefully you’d be defeated by your frustrations. He knew how impatient you grew when you were trapped, he’d seen you in action.

He could smell your heat on its way, no doubt it was making you vulnerable for him. Steve simply closed his eyes and held out his arms as he danced to the music, he just couldn’t wait to make love to you. A grin split on his face as he imagined you under him, begging for his knot. Tonight he’d ruin you for anyone else.

“Honey, I’m coming in. I hope you’re ready for me sweetheart,” Steve called out.

Shit , you stared at the wall hopelessly. You even tried breaking one of the few windows in the house, but it almost seemed painted on - made of an impenetrable surface. You crossed your arms protectively over your torso, trying to hold yourself together as another painful cramp hit you. Too weak to stand you sat on the bed hunched over.

The door clicked open, Steve inhaling deeply as he looked at you. “Aww sweetheart you don’t have to be shy for me, you look so beautiful.” He praised, eyes full of love. He approached you on the bed, kneeling before you and pressing a chaste kiss to your knee.

“I know it hurts but I’m gonna make that go away real soon,” He rubbed your thigh. You squeezed your thighs together at his touch, feeling yourself soak your panties. It took everything in Steve not to press his nose to you core, taste your sweet slick on his tongue. He'd taste you again later.

“Stevie,” You whined. You felt so warm, your hands itching at your sides to touch yourself with your pussy drooling onto the sheets. You just wanted to give in, but you had to resist the pull. Or else you’d be blabbering all sorts of nonsense to him, giving him exactly what he wanted. Begging him for his knot and his cum And god once you did that you could never go back. You shake your head and tried to inch away from him, but Steve only chuckled as he held you in place. With all your squirming you only fell on your back, exposing yourself even more to him.

“My sweet omega, look at you you’re getting so needy. You’re gonna soak the mattress honey.” Steve cooed.

His pupils dilated as he took you in, looking so lovely in the little set he bought for you. And it fit perfectly, like a glove. He watched you continue to squirm as he unbuttoned his shirt, “I know it’s hard but I don’t want you to touch yourself, just let your alpha take care of you.”

You couldn’t stand to look at him, his gaze made you want to burst into flames. Suddenly the thought of Steve wanting you in this way and wanting you for so long had you practically writhing. He was so thorough with planning this all, and he needed you so bad that he disregarded his own morals. He was such a strong alpha too, strong and- and he could take care of you . Your heat addled mind wanted to agree with the alpha before you, submit to him.

You couldn’t look at him so you turned over on your stomach, unable to stop your hand finding its way between your thighs. At least this way you could be more subtle, and even if he did see-you couldn’t see his reaction. “Ohh,” You let out a pained moan. It felt so fucking good, you forgot how good this felt. But it came at a price, it was never enough. You’d need more to satisfy yourself than this.

Steve huffed, tearing the rest of his shirt open. He didn’t like you hiding yourself from him, muffling your sweet moans against his sheets. The first time he made love to you he wanted to see your face. His belt flew on the floor, his pants falling after. He couldn’t deny that he didn’t enjoy your little show for him, watching you lose all inhibitions as you pleasured yourself in front of him. Seeing it in person was so much better.

You cried out in pain, it was really beginning to hurt. Steve’s deep voice reassured you, “Soon ‘mega, I’ll give you what you need honey.”

Full out whimpers escaped your lips as Steve manipulated you for him, pulling your hand away that was feverishly rubbing over your panties. He had you underneath him, his thighs keeping yours spread apart. He smiled down at you, his own cheeks pink. “You’re such a pretty dame, just beautiful.” He blew hot air on your neck, kissing up to your jaw.

“Ah-oh Stevie, please,” You begged. You didn’t care anymore, it was wrong and you didn’t care. It felt so good to submit to your alpha all thoughts of escape left your mind, too far gone in your heat. The thought of enduring this fever alone was to painful to bare.

“Quiet honey,” He murmured, before capturing your lips. His kiss was so hungry and desperate, afraid if he stopped kissing you that you’d leave him. He needed you so terribly that it had changed him, he could never let you go. His hand cupped your breast over the silk and gave it a gentle squeeze, you moaned into his mouth and he swallowed it on his tongue. So heady and warm, he wanted them all.

When he pulled away his lips shined with spit, parting with a string of drool between you. He rubbed it away with his thumb, humming in appreciation. “Let’s take this off shall we?” He looked down at your undergarments, once slick backed golden locks falling over his forehead.

“It’s too hot-too tight,” You said.

Steve’s eyes darkened as he thought of other things that would match said description, “I know, since you put it on so nicely for me. I’ll help you take it off.”

“Owwww,” You groaned in pain as another cramp hit you. Steve’s touch was so gentle and feather light that it was driving you crazy. He traced over your skin as he slipped your bra straps off your shoulders, exposing your breasts to him. You felt tingly as cool air hit your nipples, squeezing your eyes shut.

You only whined as Steve peeled your soaked panties off your legs, “Shh-sweetheart, I’ll make it all go away. You’re with me now honey.” He comforted you. He would always take care of his omega, after all.

His thighs were so warm against yours, Steve pressing himself closer to you. His cock twitched against your soft inner thigh, coating your skin in drooling precum. He was trying his damndest to enjoy slowly unraveling you, but his patience was growing thin as his own need became paramount. He ached for the warmth of your cunt.

He delayed by pressing more kisses to your skin, now completely nude for him. He fondled your breasts with a hand, roughly squeezing and massaging the soft flesh. He trailed kisses between the valley of your chest, sucking and lathing over the skin that lay there. It fucked with your head how strongly your body seemed to react to Steve, taking you to a high so torturous it had you reeling.

You’d be ruined.

“Oh please-I can’t take it anymore please.” You panted, catching your breath after another bruising kiss.

“Tell me then, what do you need?” He had been waiting for this moment.

“Please-fuck, you win already. Just do it.”

Steve tsked, “No, no sweetie that’s not how this works. I’ll give you my knot if you promise to be mine, promise to love me. And I’ll know if you’re lying.”

You stared at him in disbelief. Steve continued, “If you lie, I’ll leave you here. Let you suffer alone, and then the next time you have a heat we can try again. I can’t do this otherwise, for our children’s sake.” It had to be right if he were to do this, he needed your word.

Your eyes grew wide with panic, you didn’t think he would take it that far. “So honey, you make your choice.” He finished.

You remained silent, Steve placed his hand over your abdomen. “I know you’re gonna love it, you’ll make such a great mother.” He rubbed over your skin lovingly.

“N-no!” You cried.

Steve pulled back, his face hard with a frown. “Then I’ll see you in a few days.” He had much more self control than you thought.

Your hand shot out to grab his wrist, Steve looking back at you with skepticism. “No don’t leave me, please Stevie.” He began to pull away as you begged.

“I’ll take it please-I’ll let you cum inside and we can be together. And I’ll love you, I promise. Please, please I need it. I can’t do this alone, I need your knot!” You babbled on. Heats alone were why you went on suppressants in the first place, you absolutely couldn’t deal with it again.

Steve’s frown turned into a big grin, “I know honey, I know you love me. You always have haven’t you? Just like I have,” He said darkly. He was back on the bed, hovering over you.

“Yes-” You replied breathlessly, no hesitation. You would love him, you had to.

He kissed you again, once. Before prying your thighs apart. He groaned as he felt your slick gush against his cock, coating his length in it. “Such a sweet little omega pussy,” He praised.

“Love you so much honey,” Steve moaned in happiness as he entered you. His cock slowly stretching your entrance as he pushed himself inside you, bracing himself with one hand on the headboard and the other holding your hip.

He fucked you slowly, wanting you to feel every inch of him. He ate up every sweet moan that tumbled from your lips, blue eyes captivated by the sight before him. He was enthralled seeing your pussy take him so well, he knew it was quite a stretch for you. But something was bugging him that he didn’t hear.

“Say it, say it back,” His voice was harsh, commanding. He rutted faster against you, skin slapping against skin. He growled as he fucked you harder, if you wouldn’t say it he would tease it out of you.

So taken by his cock your mind was searching for exactly what he meant, but when you looked up at his piercing gaze you knew. You knew exactly what Steve wanted to hear from you. But when you opened your mouth, you had a hard time making the words come out. Instead you let out another moan.

Steve snarled, slamming into you with such force that the bed creaked and shook with the weight of it. You tried to meet his hips with your weak little thrusts but he had you pinned under him. You finally broke with his mouth over your gland, teeth poised to bite. “Oh-ohh I love you Steve! Please, oh please,” You gave your heart to him, lovely words that he wanted to hear rolling off your tongue.

Finally with your complete submission Steve bit your gland, binding you to him forever. “Yes honey, you’re my mate. Mine always.” He nuzzled against your skin.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, his cock fucking you deeper with each thrust. You were just buzzing with pleasure, your mind foggy with thoughts of Steve’s cum, having Steve’s babies. He cradled your face in his hand, a blissful smile on his face as he looked into your eyes. “Look at you, such a perfect sweet thing. Mine to love.” He hummed.

His knot began to swell, stretching you further. Steve’s eyes closed shut as he grunted, “So tight ‘mega.”

You arched against him and moaned, “Stevie-oh, alpha. I’m gonna cum!”

“I know you are my lovely, let go for me. Take all my love.” He declared passionately, caressing the side of your face. With his thumb rubbing your clit you came, melting under him in ecstasy. Steve’s knot locked you in place as he fucked his cum inside you, so much hot cum that it filled any space that his cock hadn’t taken up.

Steve’s lips sang sweet praise as he kissed you, unable to stop himself from smiling. You were all that he wanted and he finally had you, with his cum inside you that would no doubt make you pregnant. He rubbed your stomach as he held you to his chest, resting with both of you on your side. He was absolutely elated in this moment.

You were spent and practically falling asleep as Steve held you, but as he rubbed over your abdomen reality set in. There was no doubt about your fate, secured by the iron grip around your waist.

#dark!steve x reader #dark!steve rogers #my writing #xoxo steve #steve rogers x reader

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