#and yet here I am feeling like it’ll never happen | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

forever-rogue · 1 year

Note

angst like this last ep where the reader gets hurt and joel is freaking out because it seems serious and he thinks he’s losing you, but he ends up nursing you back to health <3

AN | Soft Joel! Protective Joel! It’s all here 🥰

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Injury [reader gets injured, mentions of infections]

Word Count | 3k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You knew that he was saying your name, but it sounded so different and off. You felt warm, but not in a good way. In a I shouldn't be sweating in the dead of winter type of way.

You swiped away the sweat on your brow as you clutched at your side. Pain. That's where the pain was. You felt his hands move yours out of the way and saw the frown on his face grow.

"What happened?" you heard that loud and clear. You shook your head, trying to push his hand away from the wound in your side. It was so sensitive that even the slightest bit of touch seemed to aggravate it. You closed your eyes and tried to curl up within yourself but he wasn't having it, "you're hurt!"

"'m fine," you don't know why you lied; you clearly weren't fine, that much was obvious to both Joel and yourself, "wanna sleep."

"You can't sleep yet - you can't-"

The rest of whatever he said was lost as you did manage to fall asleep or pass out or something. Whatever it was, it was better than the searing pain in your side and the discomfort throughout your limbs.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There was a creaking in the room - or somewhere - repeating in the same way over and over again. It became like a familiar tune as you slept, mostly out of consciousness.

You tried opening your eyes multiple times but they just felt so heavy, heavy, heavy. So you opted for sleep, for whatever the lull was that you were currently deep in.

Every once in a while you felt something touch you. Your face, your hand, your side - although it didn't feel quite as bad anymore. But, still, you eventually quite ready to get up. Just a little bit longer…

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"It's been days," Joel slammed his fist against the table before immediately regretting the sting in his hand, "how much longer am I supposed to wait?"

"She had a pretty nasty infection," Maria put her hand on top of his, attempting to give him a reassuring squeeze. It did nothing for him; his heart was still in his stomach, “it’s going to take her a while to recover. But the antibiotics and rest are working.”

He let out a heavy sigh as he leaned back in his chair and tipped his head towards the ceiling. She was right, god he knew she was right, but he wouldn’t feel better until you were fully conscious and fully healed.

“I feel so…helpless,” he scrubbed a hand over his tired face, “what am I supposed to do?”

“Get some sleep yourself,” she gave him the ghost of a smile but he couldn’t find it in his heart to return it, “take care of yourself. And just be there for her. She knows you’re there and that’s what matters. Joel, she made it back to you.”

“She made it back here.”

“No, she dragged herself home to you,” Ellie cut in and gave him a firm look, “she could have died, most people would have given up, most people would be dead. Not her, so consider yourself lucky. Now you have to be there for her.”

“Ellie-”

“I never left you,” she reminded him, her eyes darted to where his scar was hidden beneath his shirt, “and you never left me. And now we don’t leave her. She’ll be okay.”

“I know,” and he did. If anyone could make it through this, it would be you. You were strong, smart, skilled, and so damn stubborn. It was one of his favorite things about you. And yet…still. It hard to just be there while you were suffering, “I know.”

“Eat,” Maria insisted softly, “rest. You have to take care of yourself too.”

Ellie gently touched his shoulder before hugging him tightly from behind, “it’ll be okay, Joel. I promise.”

And somehow that was all he needed to hear because he felt the slightest bit better.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A steady sound reached your ears, soft but consistent. You couldn’t quite place it but it was somehow extremely reassuring. You moved slightly, trying to readjust yourself but let out a sharp hiss of pain. Okay, that was not going to happen right now.

Your arm left like it weighed a thousand pounds, but you managed to lift your hand and touched the area that hurt. The tips of your fingers danced over some sort of cloth…a bandage? It spread along your abdomen and while it hurt, the pain was definitely less than what you had remembered. Well, that was a good sign at the least.

A groan escaped your lips as you tried to pry open your eyes, finding them heavy and stiff with sleep. They felt like sandpaper but eventually you managed to open them and tried to blink away all the bleariness.

You looked around, so stiff and sore, but recognized the room you were in. His bedroom. A familiar place - that was good. You didn’t really remember much after you stumbled your way back into Jackson. Slowly and hesitantly shifting, you managed to make it on your side and readjusted yourself.

The source of the sound soon became apparent. Joel Miller. He was sitting, sleeping rather, in a stiff and uncomfortable looking chair at your bedside, his head slumped to the side. That was going to be painful later.

“Joel,” your voice was scratchy and your throat felt dryer than the desert. You reached out a weak, shaky hand and set it on his thigh. You attempted to give him a gentle shake in order to get him to wake up. Maybe it was selfish and you should have let him sleep but you also really, really just wanted to see him. Plus, you wanted to prevent a crick in his neck while you were at it. Two birds, one stone. He didn’t move at first…the poor thing must have been exhausted. You doubted he’d been sleeping since you were back, “Joel.”

But still, he didn’t stir and you decided not to push him. You felt pretty weak as well so you just closed your eyes and decided to get some more rest too. It wasn’t like you were at liberty to be going much right now. What you did do, however, was take his hand and lace your fingers through his, refusing to be completely separated from him.

You needed him just as much as he needed you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel knew he was going to have a sore neck even before he opened his eyes. He would have been better off sleeping on the floor but he'd fallen asleep on the chair. Typical.

But wait - something was different. His eyes snapped open and he looked down at his hand and saw that it was tangled up with yours. He didn't remember holding your hand…he knew he hadn't been. That meant -

"Baby," you were sleeping again, mouth open as you snorted softly. But you were facing him, much closer, and you'd reached for him. There was a prickling at the back of his eyes and a breath of relief escaped his lips. He wanted to wake you up but he didn't have it in his heart to. You needed rest and he was going to let you have it, "such a stubborn thing, aren't you?"

You didn't respond but he was almost positive that he felt you squeeze his hand.

The next time you woke up you felt warm, but this time it was a pleasant sensation. You cracked an eye open and saw light streaming in through the window, the soft tittering of birds outside.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You tried to sit up, slowly, but it still wasn't an easy feat. You groaned the entire time but eventually you made it.

Reaching up, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and pushed some of your messy hair out of your face. The blanket you were in was soft, and you remembered that you were in Joel's room. You were in his bed!

You heard footsteps coming from down the hall and grew nervous for whatever reason when the door opened. Joel stepped into the room and his eyes immediately went to your figure, as they had become accustomed to.

Only this time, you weren't sleeping. You were awake and looking at him with bleary eyes and a soft smile.

"Hi," your voice sounded so small and unsure that it made him want to cry. He came to your side, and despite the fact that he wanted to pull you into a tight hug, he dropped to his knees at your side and reached for your hand.

"Hi," his voice was thick with emotion, shaky and unsure as his eyes grew glossy, "you're awake."

"I'm awake," you confirmed almost as if you wanted to make sure he knew he wasn't dreaming, "you've been here. I-I woke up earlier, the other day, I don't know what day or time it honestly, and you were sitting there. In that chair."

“I was,” he nodded, a soft smile gracing his features, “I thought you’d woken up.”

“I tried to wake you up,” you leaned back against the headboard, “did you end up with a crick in your neck?”

“Of course,” he rubbed at his neck absentmindedly, “I, ugh…I’m glad you’re alright. I don’t know what…”

“Yeah,” you didn’t need him to say it - you knew exactly what he was trying to say, “thank you.”

“For what?” there was a small hint of blush that crept into his cheeks.

“For taking care of me,” you reached for his hand and happily took it into yours, “I don’t remember much, but I do remember you being there. So, don’t be bashful, I know it was you.”

“It wasn’t all me,” but he also hadn’t left your side in days, barely more than an hour or so at a time, and even those times were few and far in between, “Maria helped a lot, and Ellie.”

“I know,” after a moment of hesitation, you reached up and stroked his cheek, and the man practically preened into your touch, “but still. You’re a stubborn man. Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he took your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, which caused your entire face to flush with warmth.

“What happened?” your voice almost dropped to a whisper as though you weren’t quite sure you wanted to know, “to me? I-I don’t remember a lot.”

And then he laughed; that sweet, deep sound that you loved so much. It wasn’t that he was laughing at you or all that you had just been through, it was just…the situation. The fact that you’d been so unwell, almost on death’s doorstep, and here you were, sweet as ever, “oh sweetheart…you went through a lot.”

“I remember getting back but that’s about it,” you admitted sheepishly, “I do remember pain…how long has it been?”

“You came back about a week ago,” your mouth opened in surprise - there was no way. It couldn’t have been more than two or three days. He nodded, answering your silent question, “yeah, it was bad.”

“I-I got back and…I was hurt.”

“You came back, barely on your feet,” his gaze shifted to the clean bandage still spreading across your abdomen, “you looked…terrible.”

“What a lovely thing to hear,” you teased, knowing that he was joking.

“I just meant…the wounds. Not a-anything else, but you look…”

“Like shit,” you cut him off. You felt grimy and sweaty and gross; you were positive you were stinking and your hair was a disaster. You doubted you looked any better than you felt, “I’m sure. You don’t have to lie to me, Joel.”

“You’re beautiful,” it was the first time he had said it out loud, but it was something that had always been on his mind, “but yeah…right now you do look like you could use a bath.”

“I love an honest man,” you grinned, “you saved me.”

“I-I didn’t…no,” bashful, shy, and adorable. Although he’d never admit he was adorable.

“You did,” you insisted, pointing at your covered wound, “I imagine whatever this was, it wasn’t good.”

“No,” his brow furrowed and he shook his head lightly, “it wasn’t. There was a deep wound, and had gotten infected. The infection was starting to spread and…yeah. You came back just in time. I don’t know how you made it back but…fuck, I’m glad you did.”

“Me too,” shy smiles were exchanged, “I vaguely remember getting hurt and knowing I had to get back. And I just came back, I knew I had to get back. I wanted to get home to you.”

“Yeah?” his voice shook but you nodded, trying to be strong, “I shouldn’t have let you go. Especially not alone. I should have been there, I could have…done something.”

“Don’t think of it like that,” you put a finger to his lips to cut him off before he could continue to ramble, “thinking of all the could haves and would haves only works to drive us crazy. It doesn’t matter what happened, not anymore. What matters is that I’m here now.”

“But-”

“But nothing,” he couldn’t help the small smile that turned up the corners of his mouth at your sharpness, “I’m here and I’m okay. We’re okay. Wait…I’m okay, right? I guess I should have asked that first and not just assumed.”

“You’re going to be okay,” he promised, thanking every lucky star and divine being or whatever existed in the universe, “most of the wounds on your arms and face are superficial; I think you probably got them when you were coming back through the woods. The main one was…rough. Do you remember what happened at all?”

“My weakness,” you joked softly, “small knives.”

“That was no small knife,” he shook his head as you shrugged.

“No,” you reluctantly agreed, “it wasn’t. But me telling you what it was isn’t going to change anything so…no need to worry.”

“I’m going to worry anyway.”

“You shouldn’t worry.”

“I’m going to worry about the people I love.”

“Oh,” oh. Joel had, once again, spoken before he truly thought about what he was going to say. It wasn’t that he didn’t mean it….he just hadn’t meant to tell you like this. He wasn’t sure exactly what his plan had been, but that was neither here nor there at this point, “oh?”

“Listen, I didn’t mean to make this-”

“I love you, Joel,” you met his eye, refusing to look away so he knew that you had meant what you said, “really.”

“Oh,” this time it was his turn to be surprised. You nodded; his relief was visibly when you saw how his shoulders relaxed, “I didn’t exactly plan this.”

“Me neither,” you gestured to yourself, “any of this.”

“It’s not going to hurt for a while,” he swallowed thickly as you exhaled slowly. You figured as much; if you’d been out for almost a week you knew that it wasn’t going to go immediately go away, “I…I would like it if you stayed here. So I could help you.”

“You mean keep an eye on me so I don’t go and cause more trouble?” you teased, “I’d like that, Joel. As long as you and Ellie are okay with it. But I can take the couch so you can have your bed-”

“Absolutely not,” as if. He’d rather cut off his own leg than to let you sleep on the damned couch, “you’ll stay here, in this bed.”

“This is the first time I’ve heard that in this sort of situation,” you snorted in amusement, “but thank you, Joel. Really.”

“It’s nothing,” it was everything, “I’ll change the sheets and you can have a shower - bath maybe, that might be better. Or maybe shower?”

“I can try a shower and if it doesn’t work, we’ll figure it out,” you felt so warm and fuzzy at the idea of him taking care of you, “maybe I’ll make you give me a sponge bath!”

“I would do it.” Of course he would. He’d do anything for you.

“I know,” you leaned over, slowly and gingerly, and pressed the most delicate of kisses to his cheek, “I know.”

“I’m going to assume you’re hungry?” you perked up at the sound of food. When was the last time you had a meal? You couldn’t remember…and your stomach grumbled loudly, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Yes, please,” you grinned, “what’s on the menu?”

“Fresh baked bread and soup,” your mouth almost watered in excitement, “the kid’s been on a cooking phase, so whether or not it’s good will have to be seen.”

“I’m so hungry, I could honestly eat anything,” you really could, “but thank you. Seriously…I hope that you know how much very much I…appreciate you. How very much I…I love you.”

“It’s not work, it’s not a bother,” he insisted, “not when it’s you. I…”

“You don’t have to say it,” you knew that it wasn’t always for him to be open with feelings and words. But he always showed his love in so many other ways, “if you don’t want to or…yeah.”

“I love you,” he’d stood up but he leaned down and kissed the crown of your head, not caring in the slightest about any mess, “I’m not perfect, far from it, but I’m working on it.”

“You think I’m perfect?” he really liked your laugh, “far from it. I’m working on it too. We can work on it together.”

“Yes,” and you really liked his smile, “together.”

“Together.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us

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heartsforseo · 7 days

Text

Monster trio x fem! reader

Summary: Reader has period cramps and monster trio tries to comfort them. request=open requested: <yes> <no> wc: 895 ft: monster trio warning: talks about cramp

You woke up, groaning in pain and clutching your stomach. Five more days and it’ll be over, and in your opinion, the second days were always the worst.

And so, you had made up your mind and decided to hang around your bed until the day ends, maybe even get some sleep to ease up the pain.

Luffy was upset. He woke up early in the morning and caught a huge fish with Ussop and Chopper.

Obviously, he wanted to show it to you, but you never came out. The first time the door had opened he was already climbing up the stairs, but his face had met the door instead, and right behind it was Nami in her signature bra and pants.

The second time the door opened, he was standing right next to it. He let out a small snort and quickly tackled the person that came out. But, he was met with a hand smooshing his face away and the person stood up. Oh, it was Robin.

“Why hasn’t Y/n come out yet Robin? The fish is in the aquarium already!” Luffy whined.

“Maybe you should check up on her, Luffy. Make sure to not make a mess though, Nami will be mad.” The archeologist replied.

Luffy’s face contorted into a cheeky grin and left the area. He went inside the girl’s room and there he saw you; curled up like a cocoon, your hands clutching on your stomach and your head nestled on your legs.

“Y/n!” Luffy said cheerfully. “I have so many things to tell you! So basically I caught this HUGE fish and—Y/n?”

Luffy looked at you, your body slightly shaking and you bit the bottom of your lips.

“H-hey, should I call Chopper or something..?” Luffy muttered, shaking your body relentlessly.

You touched the poor man’s hand and he finally stopped. “Don’t worry Luffy, it’s nothing serious. It’ll go away eventually.”

“What do you mean by that? Aren’t you in pain?”

You chuckled, “Yes I am, but it is a different type of pain. I’ll explain it to you someday, but for now—I just want to stay with you.”

“So you ARE in pain. Why didn’t you tell me?” Luffy asked, completely ignoring the other words you had said.

You sighed and sat up, still clutching your stomach, “Fine, I’ll explain it to you.”

“Do you get it now?”

“Not really. But that’s unfair. I don’t want you suffering for a week every month! Hmm…I know now! I'll ask Sanji to get you your favorite food!"

With that said, Luffy left the room and came back, "Here, I got you your favorite food, Y/n! Though I ate the other four..."

"Thank you, Luffy. How about you tell me what happened with the fish? You never finished did you?"

Luffy sat on your bed and flashed a big smile, ready to tell you what happened while you were away.

You had promised Zoro that you were going to train with him. You may be in pain, but you're a man of your word.

You went up to the crow's nest and saw the swordman meditating. Waiting for you, you presume.

"That's ten over two. Have you been slacking off?"

"Of course not!" you tried defending yourself, "I'm just not feeling it today…"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. You were holding your stomach after all." The swordman replied, not failing to notice your grip on your stomach.

Zoro walked away and sat down where you first saw him, "Attack me when you're feeling better. I'd want to fight you at your best."

Not one to accept snarky remarks, you picked up the sword beside you and stood up. You charged at the green-haired man, and your vision turned upside down.

"Stupid woman," the man muttered.

He puts his hands out and catches your falling figure, "I'm not gonna let you go until you tell me what's wrong."

"…Just some cramps," you finally let out.

Zoro sighed and let go of you, "You should've told me. No wonder why you weren't in shape."

"Hey!"

Zoro sat and pulled you to him, "You're probably cold, right? Well, I'll be with you, so don't whine no more."

That sleep was a breeze. First, you were being cuddled by Zoro in a quiet room, and second, you were being cuddled by Zoro in a quiet room. The only time you guys were woken up was by Sanji fuming outside the window.

"I don't wanna get up," you muttered to yourself.

If it weren't for the sound of knocking, you probably wouldn't get up.

You open the door and see Sanji with a tray of your favorite food and some heating pad.

"S-sanji, what are you doing here…?"

"Can I not see my lover anymore? Go get dressed up, and I'll clean your bed."

You let out a little smile and took a shower. You could hear a few shuffling outside here and there. After a few minutes, you stepped out of the bathroom and saw your side of the room neatly cleaned.

Sanji was waiting patiently, sitting at the bedside.

"Are you ok, my love? Can you walk?" He asked.

"Yes, of course, Sanji," you replied

"Do you want to stay in your room or leave? I'd like to stay by your side."

"I'd like to stay here…with you, Sanji. I'm happy that you are my lover."

"No, I'm glad that you said yes that day."

DAMN THAT GOT CHEESY T__T AND UH... I HOPE YALL ENJOYED IT. I RAN OUT OF IDEAS FOR SANJI ND ZORO SO IT GOT SHORTER. NO FAVORITISM HERE YALL. ALSO IF SOMEONE GETS THE REFERENCE I'D BE SET FOR LIFEEEE

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natailiatulls07 · 7 months

Text

The golden trio Pt 6

Lando Norris x female!reader

Carlos Sainz x female!reader

Max Verstappen & Female!reader & Charles Leclerc

Summary - Being bestfriends with two famous formula one drivers is never easy, but what will happen when you get involved with yet another formula one driver??

Warning - swearing, crying

A/n - 😌😋

The golden trio

Twitter

username It’s been five days since Lando was caught kissing that other chick and Y/n hasn’t posted ANYTHING!!

username He has sooooo fucked up mate it’s unbelievable and by the looks of it he hasn’t done anything to apologise yet 😖

username You know I don’t think anyone has seen her leave the apartment building either, like we know Max and Charles are around but they haven’t be looking all that happy

username Yeah cause someone who is practically their little sister has been hurt time and time again!! What do you expect?

f1gossip

Spotted: Y/n L/n leaving her apartment complex with both of her roommates, Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc.

Liked by username and 1,583 others

username Lando fucking Norris you are a fucking idiot 😒

username Oh mate, she looks devastated

username She can’t get a break!!

username Did you guys see Max and Charles though?! They were so annoyed

username I hope the chick is happy, she ruined a relationship 🙄

Max Fewtrell twitch live stream

Twitter

username Anybody watched Max Fewtrells twitch this evening?? Lando??

username You can tell he’s so guilty with himself!!

username Like he was so blunt!

username He had it coming, like you can’t go around kissing another girl whilst you’re in a relationship. It’s common sense.

Text (White: Reader) (Red: Carlos)

Hey, I heard about what happened with Lando I’m sorry

Yeah these things happen, it’s not your fault

Look I have a idea but you can back out if you want totally your choice

Ok?? Go on

So I’ve was thinking if we could date until Lando gets jealous

Oh right…

Please don’t feel like you have to do this tho

Sure I’ll do it, I don’t want to let him down easily

Perfect! So should we go on a date tomorrow night and make sure people see??

Yeah that’ll be a good idea, the gossip instagrams just love to post about me so it’ll spread fast

f1gossip

Spotted: Y/n L/n and Carlos Sainz, former McLaren teammate of Lando Norris, seen on what seems to be a date in Monte Carlo this evening. It has been a few days since Lando Norris, who seems to Y/n’s ex now, was seen kissing another girl.

Liked by yourusername and 3,263 others

username Mr Norris what will you do now??

username She really said get even bitch 😚

~~ Liked by yourusername

username Ooooo more gossip more gossip!!!

username Yk I would sell my kidney to see what is going on behind the closed doors 👀

username Y/n in her reputation era??

username Yk, Idk what to think??

Gossip Groupchat (White: Reader) (Blue: Max) (Red: Charles)

Hey Bee…

Yeah I’d everything ok?

No…

Um Lando is currently stood in our living room, pestering Charles on where you are…😬

Wtf!

Why? Ask him why he’s there!

Seen 2 minutes ago

Yk I don’t like the fact that it’s taking forever!

He is here to apologise, he feels horrible and I think he means it

Well tell him that I am busy and that he should consider this relationship done

Ok soooo he’s gone but

But…?

I don’t think he was very happy that you are completely blocking him out, more angry in my opinion

Look that’s his problem, you can’t go around kissing other girls whilst you’re in a relationship it’s common fucking sense

Ok, what time are you coming back tonight?

Around 9pm, Carlos has a flight in the morning

See you then Bee

Bye guys

Bye Bee

f1gossip

Since Y/n’s date this evening we have noticed that the former couple have both gone and unfollowed each other on instagram and other socials. Maybe the ship has really sailed away.

Liked username and 2,583 others

username Oh Shit!

username So that really does mean…

username No I can’t do this, nope not today 😭

username True love? Yeah no that doesn’t exist

username What do we do now?!?! 😰

username Friends to Lovers to Enemies 🥺

yourusername

But now you’re on your knees while I’m wrapped up in his sheets 😚

Tagged: carlossainz55

Liked by carlossainz55 and 75,925 others

username MISS GIRL!!!

username Karma really is a bitch!

carlossainz55 ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

= yourusername 😋😋😋

username Lando you know this is about you!!!

~~ Liked by yourusername

username Loving this whole thing!!!!!

username She moved onto a real man, not a little boy. Well deserved!

Tag list: @eviethetheatrefreak @janeholt3 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @namelesssav @amalialeclerc @eugene-emt-roe @skepvids @ravisinghs-wife @bellaturner @roseseraj

#formula one #formula one x reader #lando norris #charles leclerc #daniel ricciardo #max verstappen #carlos sainz #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #carlos sainz x reader #charles lechair #redbull racing #ferrari racing #mclaren racing

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netherfeildren · 2 months

Text

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter XII : Venus

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

A/N: I realized shortly after posting chapter 11 that I’d made a small mistake in the timeline I’m intending this to follow. I included a line from Din saying Paz had already tried to take the Darksaber from him and failed, but where we’re at now, chapter 5 of The Book of Boba Fett hasn’t happened just yet. So I’ve gone back and deleted that small detail from the previous chapter, and why am I even telling you this, idk, but if you guy could do me a solid and pretend to forget my fuck up, I’d love you forever for it.

Writing Star Wars is hard

Also, the indomitable @dirtysouvenir has rendered the most gorgeous artwork imaginable of Din and Sithy, and I still can’t quite believe my eyes every time I look at it. Everyone please go show Jonis all the love and praise she deserves.

Anyways… like always, forgive me for the wait. I love you all for being so patient with me. And shout out to chapter four of Someone’s Wife in the Boat of Someone’s Husband which served as inspiration for this. You will always be famous to me!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 8.1K

Read on AO3

Tip Jar

CHAPTER XII : VENUS

What are we doing here, and why are our hearts invisible?

Anne Carson, Kinds of Water

“Just like that, yes. Good girl–keep doing what you’re doing.” His hand slides to circle your wrist, leather and the thick weave of your tunic, the slight shake of your nerves caught between. “Grip it firmly, but squeeze it gently. Yes– yes, good. You’re doing so well.”

You suck in a trembling breath, too hyper aware of the feel of his chest plate brushing against your back, the cap of his left knee gently bumping the back of your own, his arms wrapped in a loose and careful cage around your frame where he’s helping you direct the blaster at the target he’d set up several meters away for practicing. He’s got one of your wrists wrapped in the leather of his fist, the other cupping the underside of your elbow to keep your shaking arms steady.

“I don’t know why I’ve never been very good at this,” you whisper over the sound of the burning desert winds lashing you in the brow. “It’s just never come very easy.”

“That’s alright. That’s why we’re practicing again.” The hand cupping your elbow moves slowly to your waist, all his handling of you these past few days has been so intentional, cautious and patient and aware of himself and you and your reactions. Your heart beats, thumps and thumps hard enough to make you a little dizzy, a little sick. “Keep your right arm firm, but fluid. Try not to lock your elbow, let the recoil move through you steadily.”

He’d covered your hair and face in soft white linen wraps to keep you from being scorched by the sun and sand, and his voice is so deep, head pitched low so that the modulator is vibrating right at the level of your ear, the sounds of him sluicing through the linen to curl around your ear. You shiver again, squeezing your fist too tight around the butt of the blaster. You’d asked him if he’d help you practice just before you’d made planet fall a few hours ago, and now here the two of you are. A few clicks outside of Mos Eisley, he’d found a cluster of sandstacks to land the Crest amidst for a couple hours of target practice—near an area he’d told you is called Beggar’s Canyon.

You’re not sure if it’s just an excuse to have him touch you, but here you are now, in the circle of his arms, shivering with nerves and heat and want. The sun burns, but the places where he grips you burn worse, and your heart rings in your skull.

“Focus your gaze between the eyeline, eventually, it’ll come naturally, your aim, but for now, use the field the blaster sets. Squeeze gentle–” He grips your now healed elbow firmly, anchoring your arm, the hand holding your wrist moves to your waist, securing you in his hold so that when you pull the trigger, the zing of the blaster bolt leaving its chamber moves through your limb, into your chest cavity, electrifying your heart, and his hold is steadying all the way through. He’s there to keep you up, keep you strong, and so it’s almost thoughtless when you do it, a gut instinct or some muscle inside your brain desperate to flex and stretch or come awake because faster than you can blink or think, you take hold of that bolt of plasma with your mind, freezing it midway between where the two of you stand and the target he’d set.

You feel his hands flex around you, but he keeps still and silent, watching, waiting for what you’ll do next. And your heart beats faster and faster, the bright of the sun gleaming and nauseating, refracting off the sand, the plasma, your eyes. The bolt screeches and writhes and defies the laws of nature by your hand, and it does not feel good, but it does feel right.

The first time you’ve really wielded the Force since the night you escaped.

There’s something painful and uncomfortable and familiar about it coming back to you. Your breath goes fast within your chest, the taste of the desert on your tongue and the grit of sand sneaking beneath your clothes, sweaty line of anxiety down your spine, and his steady, calm breaths up against your back every other moment, this power inside of you that’s always been the cause of everything bad and only some things good. It vibrates in everything, moves through all living things, the Force, within you, within him.

“Let it go, cyare. It’s okay if you miss.” You shut your eyes and let it fall away and now it’s not the Force or you or anything else, it’s only him keeping you up against the rest of everything.

The two of you, like grief and the mountain.

“How did you meet this woman again?” You ask for about the third time, seemingly unable to keep your mouth shut and your nerves to yourself.

“She’s been keeping up maintenance on the Crest for a while now. And she helped out with the kid, watched him for me a couple times—I trust her.”

“Peli,” you repeat the name contemplatively, taking in the sight of him as he checks the pre-landing codes, flipping switches and punching toggles a little too roughly. He’s agitated, covered and swathed in it. You know he’s worried about you, the way you’ll feel being around someone else, scared you’re still feeling fragile or tired or weak. And you’re accepting it for now because you are. You are tired and you do feel fragile and you do need taking care of. If only for the time being, if only for a little bit longer. A sort of end feels very near, and you’re still working out what that such end is going to be.

“Peli,” he sighs, hitting the last button and finally swiveling in his chair to face you, and you eye him suspiciously, you know that sigh and head tilt. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.”

“Not tired?”

“No.”

“Your shoulder?”

Hurts. “Fine.”

“Cyar’ika.”

“Din.” Another sigh. Another shake of his head. You’re sure he’s rolling his eyes at you beneath that stupid lug of metal he wears on his fat head. But you hope that he’s smiling too, and you give him a soft, small one of your own, twisting your fingers together tightly in your lap. You want to reach out for him, to go to him and sit with him and kiss him again like the other day. But you don’t feel ready again. Again, fragile, tired, a weakness of heart within you that you can’t understand the source of, or you can, but you don’t want to accept it, you want to be able to move on, to get over it, to be like you once were. But that you also know he’ll let you feel for as long as you need to.

“I promise I feel okay, and that I’ll tell you if I don’t.” The target practice had left you tired and awake, and there is something moving inside of you—a recognition of sorts you can’t pinpoint exactly, but which you know is going to show or tell you something about yourself soon, the Force, the things you’d done or the things you’d do. And there’s patience too, a waiting, a readiness to receive whatever this would be without pressure or urgency. You feel entirely strung tight, a knot about to be set loose, entirely at ease, as well. Something strange about the anxiety you carry within yourself, like it doesn’t really matter much anymore and is only waiting for the right moment to be expelled.

He gives a soft grunt and turns back to face the control panel. The rolling golden sands of Tatooine like an ocean before you, and then there in the distance, the littered smattering of sand blighted little buildings that make up the spaceport of Mos Eisley. He directs the Razor Crest towards Hangar three-five, the ship jostling with the lowering of the landing gear.

“What if she doesn’t like me?” You ask nervously, following him down the ladder once he’s eased the ship into the landing bay, fretting over this ordeal of having to meet someone else from his life, a friend, which wasn’t even something you were aware he knew how to have. You hear the heavy thud of his boots against the durasteel, and then his hands are circling your waist and pulling you down the rest of the way, paying no mind to your indignant squawking.

He’d been strange with his touch, as well. As if he couldn’t help himself some moments, overcome by habit and familiarity, and then afraid and cautious in others. And you can’t understand how you feel about this either. Grateful, a sort of soft that makes your eyes smart and your cheeks bleed with heat. He’s so aware of you, so aware of what you might want or need, but then overcome, as well, needing you, wanting you. And you feel so afraid you won’t be able to give him those things—the ones he wants or needs, that you won't be able to find your way back to the way things had been between the two of you before.

“You’ll be fine,” he says, little compassion to be found for your fretting. You stick your tongue out at the back of his head, rolling your eyes and steeling yourself as he lowers the hatch, and a chirpy little voice calls, Mando!

The plank lowers, and lowers, and lowers, and finally, a mess of springy dark curls come into view. The small woman, Peli, claps her hands excitedly and spreads her arms in wide welcome of him, and something in your heart throbs.

A friend, indeed.

“Peli,” he greets her, heavy, swaying gate stomping down the gangplank, voice serious and not all matching her enthusiasm. You roll your eyes at him again as the reverberations of his steps tickle your feet through the soles of your boots.

“Hey, look everyone! It’s Mando,” she says to the chittering droids whirring around her. You follow him slowly, slinking directly behind him so that the breadth of his shoulders conceals you for a second longer before, “And who do we have here? Another unlikely companion?”

He pivots, letting you step into full view and brave shyness, a hand coming up to hover around your waist, urging you forward, but not actually touching you. The sound of your name rings in tune to the thump of your heart through the modulator. Careful, so careful, and it makes you hurt at your own self. Wanting to touch you one moment, unable to stop himself from ripping you into his arms; another, afraid, feeling like he can’t even put a gently motioning hand on your body, and how will you ever fix this? How are you going to ever be able to get the two of you back to where you were?

You take a hurt little step away from him, swallowing the heat in your throat several times before you can force a smile onto your face.

His body shifts and sways towards your retreating one.

But the small woman steps towards you, pit droids spinning and skittering frantically around her, and she claps a work hewn hand on your shoulder. “Let Peli take a good look at you.” Her gaze is cheerful, full of a youthfulness that belies her age and an even more cheerful, gap toothed smile. “Pretty girlfriend, Mando.” She waggles her bushy brows up at him. “Brought me another set of bright eyes, didn’t’cha?”

“It’s nice to meet you, Peli.” Your throat feels humiliatingly tight when she takes your hand in her smaller one, giving it a swift shake, no gentleness about the way she handles you, and there’s something comforting about the forsaking of the kid gloves. Your fracture isn’t obvious for the whole world to see, there’s still normalcy to be found for you.

She looks up at Din as you avoid his burning gaze, laughing scowl on her sunny face. “Who woulda thought you had it in, ya, huh?” She thumps a fist on his chest plate, shaking her head and moves to take a look at the Crest. “To what do we owe the pleasure? Chasing down some elusive bounty? Carbon scoring’s worse than last time.'' She chatters a million miles a minute, pulling out some sort of electric scanner, assessing the old gunship.

“We had a long trip,” he sighs, hands fisted on his hips as he watches her impatiently, turning his gaze back to your face every few moments. You want to bare your teeth at him in a snarl and tell him to stop fucking worrying. You want him to take you into his arms or hold your hand.

“Long trip, sure. That’s what he always says,” she tells you over her shoulder with a roll of her eyes. “Turns out it’s usually a gun fight or something just as idiotic.”

You snicker, enjoying the easy way she handles your Mandalorian’s surliness, grateful for the cheerful buffer she provides between your own internal angst and his overzealous worrying. “It was a long trip this time, I swear. We’re coming from the Core,” he grumbles, and the two of you follow her while she inspects the damage on the ship, and in a moment of bravery or desperation for normalcy or closeness or just him, you reach up to grip two of his thick fingers in your fist. His hand immediately adjusts and curves to wrap around yours, intertwining your fingers and taking you securely in his grip. You feel him turn to look down at you questioningly, but you refuse to look back. This is normal, this is how it should be, this is what feels right even if you need the barrier of his gloves to feel like you can breathe.

“The Core! Long way’s.” Hmm, she muses as she goes. “Got a fuel leak.” Again. He huffs. “Taking a vacation now?” She turns back with another smarmy smirk.

“Something like that.”

“Nice little honeymoon?” She teases. “I could use one of those myself.” She scans something else, and the pit droids chatter and chirp around her, almost full her height, she’s so small.

“Peli–” he grumbles. Your grumpy, shy boy; you wonder if he ever blushes under that thing, squeezing his hand in yours as tight as you can.

“Yeah, yeah. No droids, I know. When are you gonna get over that nonsense, huh Mando? It’s about time, you know!” She bends to inspect something closer near the landing gear, covered in carbon scoring here too, examines her scanner again, then clips it back to her utility belt. “Alright, here’s the deal–” But he cuts her off, pivoting while pulling his blaster in one fluid motion to shoot at a poor little droid that's gotten too close. “Hey! Hey! What’ve I said before? You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it!” She shouts.

“Din–” you scold, gripping the thick of his arm to pull the weapon down.

“What’ve I told you?” He barks.

“No droids. No droids. Blah, blah. You have got to get over that! I’m tryn’a make a deal with you here, ya womp rat.”

He jerks aggressively towards another little droid that wanders too close, sending it skittering away in terror, and you pinch his arm beneath the thick duraweave, frowning up at him, be nice, when he looks down at you, giving him a jut of your eyebrow and thrusting your chin at Peli. He groans, cursing low and grumpy in Mando’a. “Fine. What’s the deal?”

“If you let them work on the Crest–” She jerks her chin at the little pit droids quivering behind the crates strewn about the hangar in abject terror of the mean Mandalorian.

“No,” he cuts her off, stubbornness in every line of his frame.

“Din!” You scold again, bumping your hip into his.

“Come on, Mando! I’ll charge you half price–”

“Deal,” he cuts her off again immediately, the cheapskate.

“Ha!” She hoots and claps loudly. “Droids! Get to work on this lovely man’s ship. Lemme see the cash.” She holds out a grubby palm, wiggling her fingers. “He’s pretty easy, you ever notice that?” She says to you conspiratorially.

“Constantly,” you can’t help the laugh in your voice. Your first laugh in what seems like years.

“Loose knickered is what they used to call it back in my day.” And you have to turn your face into his arm to muffle your cackling, listening to him start up another string of curses beneath the helmet.

“I’ve literally never heard anyone say that before, ever,” he mutters sullenly.

“Well, you’re young.”

“Not that young,” you provide helpfully, big cheesy smile that feels slightly unnatural and rusted spreading across your face.

“Whoopee, Mando! I like this one! You really do know how to pick ‘em.” She claps him roughly on the shoulder, her little paw slapping loudly against his pauldron. “Anyway, I’ve got somewhere to be for the next couple of days, you see. I’m dating that Jawa again—the one I’d told you about,” she announces, proud as anything, big smile across her leathery face.

“A Jawa?” You repeat, making sure you heard right.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, bright eyes. They’re quite furry… very furry, but…” She clicks her teeth together, “You know…” Grins.

You look up at Din, squeezing his arm in your grip. “Guess I gotta try it.” You’re pretty sure you hear him grumble something to the effect of over my dead body, before he’s agreeing to Peli’s deal with a clap and a shake, and the promise of two hundred and fifty Imperial credits and absolutely no harm done to her droids while she’s gone and they work on the Crest.

“Treadwell, get in there!” She shouts, and the little pit droid chirps fretfully, trembling behind an R5 unit. “You can’t say no, you’re a droid. Oh, he’s not going to shoot you. Stop being a coward! What is this, a democracy all of a sudden?” Losing the fight, the droid wheels forward to get to work. “Yeah, thought so.” She turns back to you and Din. “You two can stay here, look after the shop while I’m gone? It’ll only be a few days.”

“We have some resupplying to do, but we’ll stay until you’re back,” he promises.

“And you’re not going to shoot my droids?”

“And I’m not going to shoot your droids,” he agrees, but later, you catch the too rough nudge he gives one of the little droids with his boot when he thinks no one’s watching. This man and his droid complex, you roll your eyes.

“How’s the N-1 keeping up?” He asks as she’s packing up to go.

“Just how you left her. That honey’s faster than a fathier. You should take her out while you’re here, give that baby a spin. Oh! And I added that turbonic venturi power assimilator I’d mentioned before. Remember? S’how I reconnected with my Jawa,” she nudges you with a wink. “You’re gonna be the fastest ship on the Outer Rim.”

“You got a new ship?” You ask curiously.

“Just a side project we took up while I had some spare time.” But the way he says it is a little strange, making you pause to look up and try to read the blank face of his helmet. Ah, and he smooths that same hovering hand from before along the line of your spine, an attempt to soothe or quell your curiosity without actually giving you the gift of his touch.

Peli leaves a few hours later, and she really does have a Jawa lover. The little critter comes to collect her right before the suns set, off to catch the sandcrawler before it journeys off into the desert, leaving you alone with only Din and the little pit droids for company.

And suddenly, that shyness from earlier is back for some reason. The distraction of travel and the buzz of hyperspace lost to the calm silence of the quiet spaceport as the suns set over the horizon and night settles in, cool winds coming in on the sand gusts from deep in the desert. After hours of work, Din posing as the menacing overlord barking orders and complaints, intruding on their work when it isn’t up to his ridiculous standards, the droids finish up for the night, and Din engages the hangar security system, and then the ship’s, locking the two of you in safely for the night.

“Dinner?” He asks as he moves slowly around the hull, pulling the cloak from his shoulders, a river of sand sluicing in a rain sheet onto the steel floor. The sound of it has a shiver moving through you as you lower yourself to the floor, crossing your legs beneath you at the edge of your makeshift bed. You desperately want to crawl between the covers without a shower and find the peace of evasion through sleep, secure in the knowledge that he won’t follow you into bed. He’d refused since you’d reunited, even though you’d invited him several times to share the much more comfortable pile of blankets than what you know his pilot’s chair or bunk provide. He’d not taken you up on the offer yet, and right now, fluttering heart and hot eyes and sweating nape, you’re glad for it.

You don’t know what’s wrong with you—or you do. You’re overwhelmed with want and fear, of him, of his touch, of having lost what the two of you had before. And as you watch him start to pull his armor from his body, first one pauldron, then a vambrace, then a thigh guard, no sense of congruity to the pattern with which he divests himself of his Creed, it’s suddenly like he’s standing right in front of you, and yet you miss him anyway. Miss him in a way that makes you sick and devastated.

You must make some sort of sound, a funny look on your face or a change in your breathing because he turns suddenly, a too worried, “What’s wrong?” on his tongue.

“Nothing.” You look up at him from your spot on the ground, head falling back on your neck, and you can feel the wet of your eyes, trying to force yourself not to blink so that they won’t fall—the tears. “Nothing’s wrong.”

He comes to a slow crouch before you, long legs folding down, down. “What is it? Tell me.” Half missing his armor as he poses now, it’s like he’s half him, half yours, half only-man, half Mandalorian. A little bit like what you feel yourself; half, half, half.

Pulling one glove from his hand, he lifts it, palm spread towards you, showing you his intention before he carefully cups the side of your face; thumb at your pulse, pointer and middle fingers giving your temple a soft pressure, pinky poised at the bridge of your nose. Your lashes brush against his index every time you blink, and his skin is smooth and rough at the same time, and warm—sun-hearted man.

You press your face harder into his palm, letting him support the weight of your head, nuzzling against the rough of his calluses, blaster blister scratchy against your carotid, and heat pulses all through you from the crown of your head, sliding down the length of your, still yet, too long hair, the back of your neck, your chest, pooling to settle deep in the pit of your belly.

And yet there’s something missing or different or off, like you feel empty but too full of trepidation to conjure up that old desire you’d always had, that need for him to fill, fill, fill you. Like the heat is there, but it’s remembered, not necessarily present. It all makes you want to cry and scream and go to sleep.

The truth, and plainly: you’re terrified of anything that might hurt, can’t fathom the idea of it.

Your heart beats in your throat, you taste it on your tongue, and it mixes with the sad when you say: “Do you remember when we were on Kashyyyk—when we sparred?”

“I remember,” he says, voice deep and low—through the modulator. You hate his helmet. You wish you could get beneath. You wish you were brave enough. The feeling of it coming on sudden and unexpected, thought, bitter and foul and not something you’d necessarily felt before, certainly not so viciously. It’s just that you hate that all this has happened—you want to feel the press of his lips at the crown of your head and the wash of his breath like heat moving through your hair—that you are not in the same place you once were, that you’re too afraid to move forward.

“When we switched weapons—”

He hums: “Yes.”

“It was so green there.” You turn your face further into him so that you’re speaking into his palm now, words pooling there in the cup of it like a well of truths and fears.

“It was.” The pointer and index stroke your temple, press once, twice, thrice—harder on the latter. It feels good, it feels real and reminding. He lets a heavy silence pass for a moment, he’s thinking of something, contemplating a push. “Do you remember—” He passes a swallow you can hear the thickness of, “Do you remember how I had you in the dirt—like a fucking animal? How you let me do whatever I wanted, however I wanted.” He gives the hardest press he’s given yet, at your temple, you think you feel the press against your brain, and you open your mouth to let the edge of your teeth dig hard into the meat of his palm. He growls a rough sound, a hungry sound, a sound like one he’d have made when he had you in the dirt like a fucking animal.

You drag your teeth along the hill of his palm, closing your mouth at the end. You don’t give him the wet of your tongue, you don’t feel ready to taste his skin like that just yet—an assimilation of violence.

“Yes,” you finally say, realizing that he understands what you were thinking without having to say it, or knowing how to, that you’re full of memories of past desires and how badly you want them back and how out of reach that all feels, but also, that suddenly now, in a single blink, the heat in your belly isn’t remembered, but present, alive, awake. That you’re cunt clenches once, twice, thrice around nothing—harder, hungrier on the latter. That you’re wet for him. “I remember.”

“Good. I remember every single thing we’ve ever done.” You roll your face in his palm so that you can look up at him now, feeling something like brave. “Every word, every breath, I remember all of it. Alright?”

“Alright,” you say quietly.

“And if you need me to help you remember too, then I will.”

“Alright.” And then: “What if I can’t, though?... What if we can’t ever have that again? What if I can’t remember? What if I can never give you that again?” A tear slides over the bridge of your nose, and now it’s not only truths and fears cupped in the palm of his hand but the saltwater of grief too.

“Then we’ll find something new. A new way, a different way. We’ll do it however you want now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, cyar’ika.” It’s very much a promise, a new Creed being established here.

“Okay.”

He nods, “Okay.”

The water is warm verging on hot verging on scalding. It feels incredible slithering over your tired and sore muscles, the ligatures in your arms still trembling from the blaster practice earlier today, from your overwhelm of emotions.

You hate that you’re not good at it, that the only weapon that seems to become you is a lightsaber.

The suds of his earthy smelling soap slide through your hair, slipping down your spine, over your ass and along your legs to pool around your feet and disappear down the drain. You shiver once, as though letting something fall away as you slide your hand down, over the swell of your belly, to cup the palmful of your cunt, wedging your hand between your thighs. You pet slowly at the wet curls there, realizing some of it is also the sticky slick of your desire. You were right, you’re wet for him and your clit pulses, slightly swollen and wanting. Your body is awake and hungry for him for the first time in what feels like eons.

You explore slowly, your cunt slightly trembling at the feeling of being prodded and touched for the first time in you can’t remember how long. Moaning softly, you pull your fingers from between your legs, hands sliding up now to cup the weights of your breasts in each palm and squeeze tightly. Oh, you want him, you want him, you’re afraid. Your head falls back on a thump against the fresher wall, loud enough that you hear his lurking voice through the door, you okay in there? And instead of being annoyed at his overbearing caution, his hovering, you shiver again, something coming back to you now.

Your desire.

You shut the water off, grabbing one of the soft linens he’d slung over the warm pipe for you to wrap yourself in. He knocks a knuckle against the wobbly little door, “Cyar’ika?”

Looking at yourself in front of the steamy mirror, too long, naiad hair, bright, strange eyes, you want him, you want him, you want to feel alive, awake, anything. You can’t deny your shortcomings, fears, whatever they might be called, but there is yet still a soft place inside of you that they’d not snuffed out, that wants Din still.

You turn to slide the fresher door open just as he’s readying to knock again.

He’d showered before you, after he’d fed you your soup and your disgusting fake bread he’d promised he’d find a real substitution for soon enough, and you’d needed a moment alone to sit in your grime and silence, digest your feelings. He’s clad now in one of his soft, dark undershirts, his flight pants and the helmet, opposite your towel and water dewed skin, steaming from the hot fresher.

You watch a swallow pass through his throat, words caught, slow and heavy. He clears it once, twice, tilts his head down to take in the state of you, before he says, “You alright?”

You nod, wide eyed awake. He’s standing right in front of you and you miss him and you want to shock him wide eyed awake too. “The water was too hot. I got dizzy,” you lie, swaying towards him a little, letting your lashes flutter dramatically.

Not all the way, but enough, just a little, as much as you can bear, that’s what you want from him right now.

His hands come up to grip the sides of your arms immediately, his bare hands, soaking up the wet of your skin. He pulls you into himself, pressing you carefully against his chest, and you shiver and shake against him, teeth rattling with a sound entirely lacking temperance. Your blood feels like it’s boiling, there’s desire alive and writhing in your tummy, and you squeeze your thighs together tightly, shifting from one foot to another while you drip a puddle onto the cold floor.

“Come here, sit down,” he murmurs, gently moving you to your bed, easing you down onto it slowly. “You need to take it easy,” he clucks over you, gripping your elbow to let you down carefully, keeping his hands on your bare skin until the last moment. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. You’re still tired, you’re still recovering. And you never listen. You have to listen to me when I’m trying to take care of you. You don’t eat enough, and I know your shoulder still hurts, little liar. Your elbow is barely better, and I saw you making strange faces when you were walking up the plank the other day. Your hip hurts doesn't it? Or your knee, something. No, don’t answer. I know you’ll just say no.” He talks and talks and talks, and you love him and you think that—

There’s a name for this…

He’d told you he loved you and he’d not said it again, neither had you, it felt too huge a thing to talk about again just yet while there was still so much left to discuss and bridge, but what does it matter if your body sings or screams in pain when you have the love of this beskar titan? What could you care for all the rest of everything?

Yes, Din. Yes, Din. Whatever you say, Din, as he huffs and puffs and arranges you, brings another pillow and blanket from the bunk, his only one in there, not that he cares, lovely man.

And it’s not only that you feel like you need to give him the things he wants or needs, because of course you do. You love him, you need to be able to give him things, everything, you want to be able to give him the whole galaxy. But it’s also that you want to. That to give him what he desires is to feed yourself, to live together, to be together, to give each other the things you need to stay alive.

You let yourself fall back onto the soft blankets slowly, this nest where you’ve always felt so safe and so protected and so loved, even when neither of you knew it was love that was holding you here. And you watch him for a few anxious moments as he pulls the covers this way and that, tucking them here and there, trying to avoid looking at the bare expanse of your dew damp legs. But then, taking hold of his hand, you still his nervous movements, and he finally looks up at your face, letting go of his fretting, taking hold of the bravery in the palm of your hand.

Shy—but brave. Brave—and wanting.

“We’ll take care of each other, won’t we?” You want to tell him you love him again, but there’s something slightly terrifying, gloriously intimate and fragile about the words.

“Always.”

“And we’ll keep each other alive?” Maker, I hope we keep each other alive.

“Yes.”

You take hold of the edge of the linen covering you, revealing your naked body to him slowly, exposing your soft underbelly. You hear his breath hitch, exhale on a groan that sounds like dying. His grip on your hand goes tight to the point of bone crushing pain for one brief, brief moment before he remembers himself and gentles again. You shiver at the pain, belly swooping and quivering with fear and nausea and lust.

You wish you could see his eyes, his face, his want.

“You—” he stutters, swallows, “You don’t have to, my love.” My love. He doesn’t need to say it out loud again now with teeth and tongue, he says it in all the things he does.

“You have to know that I want you so much. That I want you more than anything, Din.”

“I do know,” he says immediately. “I’ve never doubted that.”

“I want to show you.”

“You don’t have to. I know—” His other hand comes up to grip yours with both of his, caging your limb within the strength of his fists—to keep himself from touching you anywhere else, you think. But you can feel the intensity of his gaze along your skin, over your bare breasts, quivering with your hitching breaths, water droplets translating the frantic beat of your heart in their trembling on the surface of your skin. The line of your belly, the slope downward to the soft place between your thighs.

He’d seen the scarring on your hand, it was inevitable as much as you’d wished you could hide the deformity they’d left. As much as you wish you could’ve kept it from him, held an illusion for the rest of your lives together to spare him from the reminder of the things that’d been done, happened, chosen. But now… now he is to be subjected to the whole truth of it. Scars like cobwebs, strangely shimmering in silver lights beneath the surface of your skin—they’d been clever and ingenious in their torture—covering the whole circumference of your left hand up to your elbow. But also, from the lowest point of your last rib, over your right hip, traversing lower down the contours of your skin to wrap around the uppermost swell of your thigh.

They’d left their mark like they’d intended, and it wasn't something you could ever hide from him, the reality of what’d been done, what you’d chosen. It was obvious in everything, etched into your skin, a chasm in the still present distance between the two of you.

You feel like a bruise; tender, vulnerable, incongruously desperate to press on it harder and feel that dull throb, dark and ugly and on display.

His hands go tight around yours again for a moment, before he’s snatching them back to grip his bent knee, white knuckled, silent anger on display when his eyes reach the scarring.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, smoothing a hand over your hip down to your thigh to grip yourself there, digging your fingertips lightly into the plush softness. Your skin vibrates. “It doesn't hurt now.”

“What did they do?” His voice is like gravel, restrained fire-full fury.

“They wanted to see what it’d take to leave a mark. They figured it out.” The helmet turns away sharply, a short, brutal curse spit from his mouth. The tongue of his mother, beautiful despite his violence.

“It’s okay, Din.” You take hold of your thigh, pulling it up and apart, spreading yourself for him. Brave, wanting heart, be brave. He turns back immediately. “I want you to see how much I want you,” you whisper. “How much I still need you.”

You let your fingertips flutter lightly over your swollen, needy sex, and you can hear the obscene, sucking sound of your wet lips spreading apart when you part your legs wide enough for your sex to bloom. Cunt hungry and weeping for him.

Fuck, he spits, leaning closer, and his hand snaps forward to grip your ankle all the way around, pulling your foot up onto the uncompromising muscle of his thigh—your only point of contact.

“Show me, cyar’ika. Show me how much that pretty cunt missed me,” he growls.

You start slow, wide eyes fixed on the dark tee of his vizor, fingertips swirling around your clit slowly, it pulses and throbs and beats to the rhythm you can feel his own heart beating at within his own chest. But you pet it slowly, teasing both of you, and then feel lower down to the clenching mouth of your cunt—fuck, he spits again—slicking your fingers in your sticky wet. You start to rock your hips against the flat of your hand, the sound of your cunt, loud in the quiet hull, nothing to interrupt but the too desperate sound of your mutual panting. His fingers around your ankle are so tight they’ll leave a sore spot, and you can't think of the later hurt now, afraid it'll scare you out of this, all you can focus on is the beat of your cunt, the way it cries for him.

You swirl your fingertips at your opening, again, again, “Put them inside. Let me see you fuck yourself.” And it’s a demand.

You start with one, slow and tentative, a little, shocked gasp as you probe shallowly within the tight, little hole. Then further, wiggling inside until you’re impaling yourself with your own small finger, the first thing inside of you in so long, and suddenly, you wish it was him. Your eyes fill with tears at the thought, spilling over at the wish that he could’ve been the first thing inside of you after all this time, but the reality that you’re just not ready for it yet. The salted proof of your inevitable shortcomings slide back along your cheeks to drip into your ears.

“Another,” he demands. “Oh, it sounds so pretty, little one. Give it another.” You pull your single finger out, sucking, wet-cunt sound that he groans in tune with, to press another one in, mewling at the pinch and stretch of it, the slick slide. Yes, just like that. You’re doing so well, he says, a mirror of his earlier words to you today during target practice. “Roll your hips, ride your hand.” You hitch another sob, “Don’t fucking cry,” he grits, pressing your heel hard into the meat of his thigh. “Don’t cry, don’t cry. You’re going to come for me, you’re going to let me see it.” He spreads his thighs wider in his kneeling crouch, pushing his hips forward into nothing, drawing your gaze to the heavy bulge behind the plaquette of his flight pants. He’s so hard.

You crook your fingers inside yourself, hill of your palm against the swell of your engorged clit, fingertips against the spongey ridge at the front of your cunt, rolling your hips faster, chasing the orgasm you need to give him. Your foot feels numb in his grip, your cunt, on fire, so tight it hurts. Your belly hitches and heaves, open mouth gasping and you cry his name, moaning and writhing wantonly, your stomach slick and glistening again with sweat now instead of water. One of your palms reaches up to take hold of your breast, nipple caught between your fingers, squeezing tight, tight, tight. And suddenly he’s surging forward, letting go of your ankle to lean over you and rip his pants open, freeing his furious erection. The tip is red-purple and swollen fat, drooling a thick string of sloppy, white precum, and he wraps one massive fist around the angry thing. Din, Din, Din. He beats at his cock furiously, the sound of your name, the slick thwack, thwack, thwack of it sends you spilling into your orgasm, belly pulling tight, cunt twisting even tighter.

“Fuck, fucking come—fucking come,” he snarls as he twists his fist cruelly around the head and the thick white viscosity of his semen starts to spill from the fat head, bubbling up and over his fist and between his fingers, splattering heavy and hot onto your spasming cunt, coating your fingers so that you’re pushing the thick of his come into yourself, slicking you further. “Yes, yes, yes, like that. Let me fucking see it…Look at what you do to me.” And there's so much furious want in his voice, and he’s so big, long and thick, and you know it’s going to hurt when he puts it inside of you for the first time again—you remember how it hurt before, how you loved it—and you’re afraid you’re not going to be able to handle any sort of pain ever again, not even the sort you’d been so hungry for before.

But your womb pulls tight, pulses and throbs, and suddenly your two skinny fingers arent enough, you want the thick heft of his cock fucking hard and fast and deep inside of you, punching at the deepest spot within you.

His orgasm ends on a fierce groan, panting, thick chest heaving, his head hangs low between his shoulders. You pull your shaking fingers from your clenching hole, and he gives a few last lazy strokes, squeezing the last drops of come from the slick tip to splatter against your pussy. “I fucking missed this—your cunt covered in me.” His dripping cock bobs so close, and you have the sudden insane thought of him just shoving it in, holding you down prone and fucking all of his spend into your sloppy cunt, forcing you to take it and be his again. “I can’t wait to eat it. I can’t wait to fill it with my come again and eat it out of you.” There’s a part of you that might want it, that might wish for it.

“Maker, Din…” you moan, rubbing the thick semen into your overstimulated clit, your mound, up the curve of your belly, slicking yourself in him.

If you can’t have his touch, this is enough, and you bring your sticky, soaking fingers up to your mouth, sucking the come from them. He groans, not fair, sitting back on his knees, spent cock hanging obscenely from his open pants, wet and glistening. He reaches behind his head to tug his shirt up and off, leaving his sweaty chest bare and gleaming. Your eyes flutter shut, cupping your cunt in the palm of your hand, covering the slick curve of it, and you arch your back, spreading your thighs further, putting yourself on display for him.

“Gorgeous, cyar’ika,” he says between pants. “So pretty, my love.” He reaches down to squeeze his half hard cock once more. “I can be patient for you, I promise. You’re so worth it.”

He lays beside you in the dark, stretched out long and entirely clothed, but here with you, forced and convinced to share your bed with a line of pillows as a protective moat between the two of you at his own insistence.

You’re on your side, hands folded beneath your smushed cheek, wide eyes searching fruitlessly for the shape of him in the pitch dark. You want to say something else. You want to tell him you love him again, to hear the words fall from your tongue.

“What are you thinking?” He asks.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” You hum a barely breathed laugh. And then, “I know you’re scared or regretful or worried that we’ll not get back to where we were,” he reads you.

“Yes.”

There’s a name for this…

He sighs long, goes quiet for longer, and then finally: “What’s happened’s happened, which is an expression of faith in the mechanics of the galaxy.”

“Fate?” You muse, a little unbelieving.

Dark red—

“Call it what you want. We met, we separated…you were—gone. We waited. Now we’re here again. It’s meaningful, isn’t it?”

“Yes. You believe in this—fate?” I didn’t think I believed in anything anymore. But I believe in you.

“Call it what you want, but yes.”

—String.

There’s something about this that you need to consider, chew on. The fact that you’d felt, all your life, cursed to know how a thing would happen, be, end, always. Something like fate, perhaps, the whisper of it making a home for itself within the shell of your ear, and now the truth that he too believes in this thing you’ve always lived with. Destiny, what have you—you believe in the same things, you believe in each other.

“Will you hold my hand?”

He turns over, reaching to twine his fingers through yours; large, rough palm against small, soft palm. You want to tell him you love him again, you want to hear the words for him, but they feel trapped, tender, timid.

You’d always thought your destiny fixed, poised, on the tip of your tongue. A thing was what it was birthed unto the galaxy in perpetuity, and no amount of desire could absolve you of its sunken teeth. But this—this desire is like the creation of myth, that dark red thread that goes by the name of fate being pulled taught, humming in accord with a frequency heard only by the two of you.

Now: “Will you kiss me?” A beat of silence, his fingers around yours going tight, tight.

“Come here,” his voice blends with the darkness, and tugging you into himself, protective border between your bodies and his hand around your jaw, he slips a kiss onto your tongue. His mouth holds the hot recollection of being alive; the drag of his teeth against your bottom lip, the taste, your fingers weaving through his hair, your names sounding together, a pair because they belong on the same breath.

You pull back, and it’s only a small brevity, but it’s enough, and that confusion from earlier, that shiver of letting something go or taking it back into yourself, settles.

You’re afraid or regretful or both, yes, sure. You also find yourself to be, suddenly, forgiving, full of empathy. You won’t be able to have him unless you take possession of yourself first, and on the tail end of a comet breaking across the sky: I love him, but I must also love myself. He deserves someone who loves themself, but more than that, I deserve it too. To be able to give him the things he wants and needs: I deserve to be in love with myself.

You let the Tartarian memory become nothing.

Love manifests itself primarily in forgiveness.

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bigassmoonchild · 4 months

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Happy

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Simon finally comes home, and he meets his two little angels. You’re finally happy, and things seem perfect. A little too perfect.

Content Tags: Comfort, Twins (name reveal), Death, Canonical death, SPOILERS FOR MW3, Family Moments, Good Father Simon, Simon Finally Realizes How to Deal With His Emotions, Mentions of Pumping, More Original Characters (no name mentioned), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost, Omega! Reader, No Use of Y/N

A/N: This is the end. Maple Syrup is done, it has been finished. Feel free to keep sending asks about Doc and Simon! I am more than happy to keep answering prompts about their life together and their family <3. It is insane. I am so proud of how far this has come, and I am so happy that you all have enjoyed it. Don’t worry, I have another fic lined up!!

Part 1 | Previous | Headcannons, Masterlist

Price isn’t entirely sure the last time he could smell something like this on Simon. He isn’t entirely sure if he’s ever smelled him like this. Not in the however long he’s known the Lieutenant. There’s words that he should find, something to get his other alpha, his Lieutenant, to feel better, yet there’s nothing. No matter how much he wants to say something, the words are lost to Price.

He knows the feeling coursing through Simon. Price himself missed his middle pups birth, and yet this all feels different.t He isn’t even sure there are words to convey what he wants to say, if he could just transmit the feeling he needs to he would. But he can’t do that, that just isn’t a thing that’s possible. Maybe in the far, far future but right now? All he needs to find are the words to help make his other Alpha hurt just a little less.

The tangy scent that fills the air of the heli almost burns his nose. It’s not something he’s ever smelled before, not on Simon. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley didn’t smell hurt, or sad. Hell, he never even really smelled anguished even when he probably should have. Price knows the pup- the pups- are here, and he knows Simon should be feeling a sense of joy. Excitement, even. But there’s nothing. No joy, no happiness, just fear and a tang of pain.

While Price knows the feeling- he missed his own middle pups birth- he can’t find the words to express to Simon that it’ll all turn out okay. That everything will be figured out, that you won’t just abandon him. Simon isn’t a bad Alpha, he might be rough around the edges but he truly does mean well. Maybe his words were a little harsh, maybe his tone wasn’t always what he wanted to convey, but Simon never meant real harm to those on his side.

The sounds of shrieking, wails and snarls coming from the other end of the phone almost haunted Price. He’d never heard his own Omega, the perfect parent to their pups, scream in such a way. Maybe it was just because it hurt, maybe because you had to push two pups out of you, but maybe it was because it was so unexpected. His omega had gone to a few classes to prepare for it all.

Christ. You’d had two pups, and Simon wasn’t there to help at all. Your own pack, the one you were born in, wasn’t even there to help you with this moment. Price knew that there was very little anyone could do to fix this, but by all the gods who knew of the green Earth he wanted to find a way.

While your relationship with Simon had definitely been through worse, he knew that it was torment. Price had been given the opportunity to slowly court his own omega, make them fall in love with him each time that they were together. He knew what it took to get an omega, at least his own, to fall in love. But neither of you were given that chance. You were just some Doctor that had been assigned to their base, just a Doctor who was sent out by your own leaders and Captains to figure out what was happening.

You were just a Doctor, tossed into a world of hurt all because of Simon. And Simon wasn’t sure if he could forgive himself for any of it. You were alone, to care for two newly born pups, all alone to give birth to them. He’d heard you snarl at one of the doctors who had come in. Just Price’s Omega was allowed in, they were the only person who was allowed near you.

Simon shouldn’t have just ran off to the mission without at least having gone and seen you first. Maybe then, just maybe, he would have had the balls to stay behind and try and fix his mistakes. Maybe then, you wouldn’t have been left alone to birth your children. God, he felt so fucking stupid. He’d missed the birth of his pups.

Maybe, hopefully, you’d forgive him. You had before, so hopefully this wouldn’t be that much different. He had to stop doing this, stop making these situations occur where he hurt you so much and had to hope to whatever god would listen that you would accept him back into your arms. He could see Price, Gaz and Soap glancing at him every now and again. Soaps nose was scrunched up, his eyes slightly narrowed while looking at him.

“You alright, L.T.?” Soap asked in the silent helo. The tension was so strong Simon thought he could cut it in half. His eyes slowly moved from staring out of the window to looking right at him. Soaps eyes didn’t move, matching his stare.

Swallowing thickly, Simon broke eye contact. “Worried, s’all,” he responded, voice slightly hoarse. A hum came from Soap, and he watched him turn to look back away where he’d been prior to it. No one else spoke for the remainder of the flight back, and Simon found himself glancing back out the window he was near and watching the ground pass by quickly.

Sometimes he wondered what other people were up to, how simple their lives might be. How they might be having a nice dinner with their pack, watching as their pups grow up with ease. He felt a pang deep in his chest, and he almost felt his eyes burn for a moment. He craved such normalcy. He wanted to curl up in your nest next to you, hold you close as you slept against him.

Take care of his pups and help you out after the birth. He barely noticed the helo land and was half conscious as he walked into the compound. People were glancing at him, their eyes following him as he walked. Simon barely noticed, though, and he felt as though he had tunnel vision on his walk to your shared room.

From a few halls down, he could smell something. It was sweet, mixed in with your own scent. Milky, almost, and slightly powdery. He swallowed thickly, as just another hall down he could hear shuffling coming from your shared room. Christ, when had his hearing become so sensitive? He heard you humming faintly, some cooing and whining from two other sources.

And he opened the door, sliding the key out of the lock as he walked in. Your eyes found him, widening just a little and the faintest scent of fear coursed through your scent. Two wails suddenly screeched through the room, your eyes darting back to the closet nest and you moved without hesitation. He heard little purrs and coos coming from you, the wails slowly dying down into soft whimpers.

His heart shatters into pieces. He feels a pain he hadn’t thought possible, the thoughts whirling through his head. His pups don’t know him, they hate him and he can’t be here. Simons muscles are tensed, ready to make a run for it. He can almost feel tears pooling in his eyes, his throat closing up as a small whine comes from deep within him.

There’s nothing he can do. Absolutely nothing. He wasn’t here when they came into this Earth, he wouldn’t be here when they left. And he hated himself so deeply. But the purrs that you gave, little coos bringing him from his thoughts. His head almost cleared, listening to you whisper soothing words to the little things. God, they’d be tiny. They had to only be a few days or weeks old at this point, but everything felt like it had ground to a halt when he’d heard you were in labor.

And he shouldn’t he absolutely should leave until he can talk to you alone but he can’t. He can’t run away again when things get difficult, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave you. He had to make things right, but he wasn’t sure how.

Simon didn’t feel like he could move. He slid his boots off, sliding them in their spot in the corner. He moved slowly, cautiously as he inched closer to the closet. He was barely peeking around the corner when you spun and growled at him. Growled. Deeply, from so far in your chest he hadn’t thought an Omega could make that noise.

Your eyes had shifted from being you, shifting into a deeper and more primal look. They softened, slowly, as your snarl faded carefully. You had remained crouched next to the two pups, your hands still gently laid on each of them.

When you growled, you could smell fear coming from Simon. You aren’t entirely sure if that’s what pulled you out of this weird and deeply defensive spot. The father of your pups, your Alpha was standing above you and looking down at you with wide eyes. You watched as he carefully slid the balaclava off, his eyes dropping down to take a look at your pups. You shifted a little, no longer crouching down in front of them.

His eyes became softer, his brows no longer furrowed so deep into his eyes that he almost looked awed. You knew they had his eyes, although a little lighter because of how young they were. They looked so similar, although your little Lily had more of your features than her fathers. Finley, on the other hand, had his stronger features but he had your hair. Maybe he had your nose, but you were partial to your pups.

You said nothing as you handed one of them to their father. Lily shifted, her nose scrunching up as she inhaled his scent up close but it slowly disappeared as she became comfortable. Her little hand grabbed at his shirt, and one of his hands moved to stroke against her hair. He held her closer to him, and you could see his nose twitch a little as he inhaled her scent.

“I want to retire,” he whispered, not looking away from the little pup in your arms. You could feel your heart stop, your eyes almost welling with tears as the realization slowly sunk in. Your pups would have their father, and you would have your alpha.

“Do you know their names?” You whispered softly, watching as he looked up at you. He shook his head and you gave him a weak smile. You still hurt, not just physically, but emotionally. He had abandoned you. And yet he was here now, holding Lily in his arm and his eyes felt so gentle while he looked at you. “You’re holding Lily,” and he nodded, his nose twitching a little bit. “Finley is down here,”

“How do you differentiate them?” You gave a little laugh, picking up Finley and letting Simon grab onto the two of them. Your big, scary looking alpha was standing there with his head ducked down looking at his pups. He seemed so gentle, his jaw was relaxed and his brows weren’t furrowed. He seemed almost happy.

You glanced away from the three of them, swallowing thickly. “Lily’s scent is a little stronger, kind of like yours. Finley isn’t as shifty and he’s a little quieter. Mostly it’s just their scent, though, but also. Other things,” you glanced away and heard Simon laugh from deep in his chest. His eyes were scrunched up, and his head was tossed back.

Genuinely, you don’t remember if you’d ever seen him laugh as hard as that. You’re not sure that you have, and it made you feel warm. Your chest hurt, but in a good way this time. You could feel your cheeks aching from the smile you had on your face, watching your little pack enjoy themselves.

For some time, the two of your stood there basking in the little family you had. Simon finally sat himself in your nest, and you showed him how to change their diapers. The two of you sat there for what felt like minutes, but had to be hours. He helped you to the toilet when the pain relievers finally stopped working as well, helping to prepare your new pad and helping you get back up.

The first night you were able to spend with him, you hadn’t woken up once. You’d stashed away some pumped milk in a little mini fridge they’d let you keep in the room just for this, and when you woke up and added some more that you’d packaged you noticed a few missing. You smiled a little, glancing at him snoring away in the bed you shared.

It didn’t take long for his retirement to become official. The two of you found a little place not too far from the compound, and he’d gotten a new job. It was pretty decent, but he also received an alright amount of money from the government for his service. You were still working in the medical field, but you found yourself leaning more towards finding an office job, one where you could actually have decent hours to be able to help care for the pups.

Raising two pups at once was difficult. Sure, Simon helped when and where he could, but it was just difficult in general. When one pup wasn’t crying, it was the other. When one needed a diaper change, the other suddenly needed one as well. You were just happy to have your mate and your pups healthy, happy and not at risk to die.

Until Simon got a phone call.

“They think Makarov survived,” he whispered to you in bed after you came back from finishing your pumping. You could feel your blood run cold, and you turned over to look at him.

“What?”

He sighed deeply, shifting his head to look at you. “They have some,” he paused and swallowed. “Evidence. They think he’s still alive, and we need to find him. Kill him,” and your heart was suddenly pounding.

“We?”

You watched as his eyes closed, his scent changing to one that confused you. “They need me to help them,” he whispered, his hand finding yours carefully. He squeezed it, and you squeezed back. You sighed deeply, closing your eyes and feeling your heart begin to slow down.

Opening your eyes, you looked carefully at Simon. Even in the dark, you could see his brow furrowed. “I’m coming with,” you whispered. He sat up straight, elbow locked as he held himself up.

“Absolutely not,” his voice was stern, almost a growl. “You will not be going anywhere near this mission,”

You scoffed, rolling back over onto your back. Your eyes gazed across the dark ceiling. “I’m coming with you,” you whispered once more. Simon shook his head, his free hand sliding across his face.

It was a week long argument. Tempers were short, and things weren’t very happy within the house. The two of you still worked together with the pups, but it was silent. He still took care of the pups at night, even though he was sleeping in your guest bedroom. You stayed quiet, listening faintly in on his phone calls. He was trying to stay quiet, you could tell.

It was mostly arguing, at least from his end. Anger about not wanting you to go with, and whoever he was talking with appeared to be arguing for your help. He was always a little angrier after finishing the call, but he stowed away with the pups while they took their naps and seemed to just stew with the thoughts for a while.

After a week, probably just a little longer, he finally came up to you with his head down. He wasn’t making eye contact, but his brows were still furrowed. “I’m sorry,” he whispered after a moment. You nodded, continuing to package the breastmilk you’d just finished pumping. “Price wants you to join, he’s worried there might be issues with medical care while we’re on the mission,” you nodded again but paused after finally registering what he was saying.

“Price said what?”

And the mission was horrible. Absolutely horrible.

The only part you truly remember about it was watching as Soap took a gunshot to the head. You watched the blood pour out of him, heard the shouts and ensuing chaos.

Makarov got away. You did what you could, but at the end of the day you had no way of saving Soap. Simon had grown silent, and the return to the compound was horrible. Price’s omega was taking care of the pups, as their own were almost finished with their last years of school. And you left the 141 alone as they spread his ashes, holding Simon close as he sobbed into your body.

His grip on you those next few weeks were incredibly strong, his arms not letting you out of bed when you needed to use the bathroom, and he was just a little withdrawn for some time.

You named your next pup after Soap. And Simon slowly grew better about the passing, the 141 was often around to see their pack-pups. Everything felt wrong without Johnny, though. No longer just Soap, it was Johnny. Even your youngest had become Johnny, and Simon was able to keep himself from being especially partial to the young one.

They grew up so fast, but it took so long. And maybe it should have felt good, but Christ were they some difficult pups at times. Lily had her first rut, as did Finley. Johnny hadn’t yet presented, so you were just assuming he was a Beta until he would present. Maybe he wouldn’t, but you loved your little pups more than you had ever thought possible.

It wasn’t all too bad. The 141 stuck around, and you found yourselves living in the same neighborhood as the other two. Gaz had found himself a mate, and they had a few pups of their own. You helped with the birth of the first, just as Price’s Omega had done for you. They were there as well, and Simon was holding Gaz back even with the shrieks.

Gaz had tried throwing the two of you out of the room, as his omega had ended up in a similar situation to you. In the middle of birth suddenly, and unable to make it to a hospital in time. Lucky bastard, the birth took twenty minutes.

But you were happy. And that’s all that mattered.

TAGLIST (finished for Maple Syrup, please let me know if you’d eventually like to be added to a general Ghost x Reader taglist, or just no longer be tagged 🫶)

Some tags are not accepted, as it won’t show your blogs when i’m tagging. i’m so sorry!!

@sae1kie @shinebright2000 @zechie-spams @itsmadamehydra @smiley-roos @enrapturedbythemoon @stargatenovus @cowboydisaster @josieguts @the-queen-of-england183 @littlelovebug98 @cringeycookies @averytiredfanfictionwriter @kariiiel @http-paprika @snorklingfae @lukneetoonz @wise-owl @waves-against-a-cliff @megkviss @ducks118 @404lunar @zoom-zoom77 @hollowmasque @bootabo2000 @ducks118 @bunnyvs @perfectus-in-morte @itsmytimetoodream @the-occasional-artist1125 @lunamoonbby @ghostslittlegf @teddywebby @astro-ghoul99 @vicky-09 @batmanunicorns523 @xuanzhe @tsugikatsuhowl

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neonghostlights · 3 months

Text

The Three Exes of Eddie Munson

Part ten

Series masterlist

“Of course I still love you,” you blurted out without thinking.

You were a doctor, trained to keep a straight face yet you found yourself crumbling at Eddie’s feet in a heart beat.

“Yeah?” Eddie asked, stepping closer to you.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “But you hurt me, Eddie. And I don’t know if I like who you are right now.”

“I’m better now. That shit they say about me in the tabloids isn’t true. I mean it used to be but I’m really really doing better now. You can even ask my manager.”

“I want to believe you. I really do.”

“Then tell me what you need me to do because I am so tired of pretending that my heart doesn’t belong to you. Like I don’t wake up and immediately think about you. Like every song I write isn’t for you,” he said, grabbing your hands.

“How is this supposed to work? I’m here and you’re in California…”

“Then I’ll come back here,” Eddie said immediately.

You let out a laugh. “You see how this town reacted about everything.”

“No, the people who live here and know us didn’t care. It was the fans that did. It might be crazy at first but it’ll die down. It always does,” Eddie told you.

You chewed on your lip. “But a fan showed up to my job and I’m on leave. What if that happens again? They got legal involved and everything.”

“Baby, I have lawyers and publicists like you wouldn’t believe. I can fix that with a snap of my fingers. Sounds like the hospital needs better security to protect its doctors,” he raised his brows at you, alluding to what his legal team was about to do.

You thought for a moment, running the possibility through your mind.

This could real hurt or it could be great.

You glanced towards the front door to see Steve watching you and Eddie as you held hands. He gave you a small smile.

Six months later the world had forgotten about the three exes of Eddie Munson.

There was an uproar at first, fans going crazy but then things calmed down like Eddie said they would.

Eddie retired from preforming, choosing to produce music in the background instead.

You went back to work at the hospital after some strong persuasion from Eddie’s legal team.

As for you and Eddie’s relationship, things were good. There was a lot of trust building at first but now you felt like you could breathe again and you were enjoying your time with him by your side again.

Donna got out of jail. She was loose somewhere in the world. You were worried all of the time for you and Eddie’s safety but you knew you would feel better someday in the future when things were even more settled.

“There’s my favorite doctor,” Eddie cooed as you walked through the front door.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. And my favorite ex,” he said as he pressed a kiss to your lips before you could protest.

You pinched his arm as he cackled.

Some things never change.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson series #eddie munson angst #rockstar!eddie munson x reader

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crownmemes · 1 month

Text

Oblivious Sentences, Vol. 3

(Sentences for characters that have a habit of missing the obvious. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"You hide behind your intelligence."

"Are you being intentionally thick?"

"You never could read people, could you?"

"How bad can it be?"

"Even if real human contact is something you don’t have, or even want or need, you should at least be able to see it in other people."

"There are many aspects of human irrationality I do not yet comprehend."

"How do you know you didn't miss something important?"

"Are you saying you want to date me?"

"What people say and do doesn't always make sense."

"You're really not good at reading people, are you?"

"I don't know how to make people like me."

"Is that rhetorical?"

"Forgive me, these things sometimes slip my mind. It won't happen again."

"This actually makes sense to you?"

"Is this some clever practical joke that I'm not aware of?"

"Is that what they say about me now? Paranoid?"

"I've got to warn you, he's lacking in some of the social niceties."

"Are you making fun of me?"

"You really don't know, do you?"

"I'm supposed to show you sympathy?"

"Just because you can't see what's going on doesn't mean no one else can!"

"Am I behaving incorrectly?"

"Was that funny? I never know when I'm being funny."

"I can lie, I'm just not all that good at it."

"I've been out of circulation so long, I've completely forgotten social niceties."

"You know, when you're interested in something and nobody else is, the polite thing is to keep it to yourself."

"I'm trying to make people like me. I want them to like me."

"Your not knowing the reason doesn't mean there isn't one."

"I don't quite understand what's happening here."

"If you look the way you do, and you say what you said, you have to be aware of the effect that it’ll have on men."

"How is it, for a man surrounded by women, that you know so little about us?"

"You're much better at this sort of thing than I am."

"Did I do something to anger him?"

"I know you were trying to help, but there are some people who might not see it that way."

"Sometimes I forget that you have such capacity for pure innocence in your life."

"Is that what we are? Friends?"

"Do you know why people are nice to other people?"

"Is there some significance to this action?"

"It's frustrating not to understand something so fundamental."

"Did I say anything stupid?"

"I've been trying very hard recently to get more in touch with my feelings."

"But how does this even make sense?"

"You're really not good with nuance, are you?"

"I thought you didn't have a sense of humour?"

#rp meme #rp memes #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #sentence starters #oblivious;#assorted;

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gay-wh0re-slut · 5 months

Note

(sorry, english isn’t my first language) i’m not sure if you’re requests are open,but i wanted to tell you what an amazing writer you are.💜 you’re so gifted, i hope you never stop writing. could you do a Dom!rhea x inexperienced!fem fluffy smut. maybe like the readers first time, so rhea is supper attentive and caring… idk

just happy to be here😊

my requests are always open, but it might take me a while to get to them bc of my schedule but thank you so much, i’m glad you liked them!!! and of course i can, this is so sweet.

Gentle

rhea x fem!reader

content: super sweet rhea taking care of you in bed for your first time, super vanilla with an extremely tiny bit of praise.

You and Rhea were sat on the bed across from each other, she was sitting criss-cross while you were sitting on the side of your hip leaning on your hand. She was fiddling with your rings on your free hand while you listened to her talk.

“We can take it as slow as you need to,” she started.

You were…not sure how you felt but you stated earlier that you were ready to go for it. The two of you had been dating for a good few months now and she never pushed you to do anything you didn’t want to but she always made some silly jokes with sexual undertones.

“Whenever you want to stop, just say so. I won’t do anything too crazy…yet,” she chuckled.

You laughed with her. She is always so caring about every aspect of your relationship, making sure you were okay in her big social events, making sure you got to your destination safely, and other things like that. You had never experienced such love before.

“Do you want a run down of what I am going to do or do you just want to play it by ear?” she continued.

“Hmm,” you thought as your heart thumped, “maybe… both? I’m not sure.”

“Well,” she scooted closer to you, “We’re gonna kiss that’s for sure. Then I’ll undress you, if that’s okay, of course, then-”

“Actually, I changed my mind. I’ll just go with the flow,” you spewed out.

“Okay baby, whatever you want. This is all on your terms,” she cupped your face rubbing her thumb over your cheek. She gave you a soft smile before kissing you.

“That’s so much pressure,” you looked down picking at imaginary lint.

“I know but it’ll be okay, I promise. I will not be upset if you want to stop,” she lifted your chin, “think of it this way, I’m doing most of the work, you just have to relax and enjoy, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you released a breath of relief remembering how good she was to you in everyday life, which made you feel better that it would be the same in this new situation.

“We’ll take it slow,” she kissed you again, “however slow you want,” kisses you again, “however long it takes,” she kissed your jaw, “this is just for you,” she continued to kiss down your neck as a shockwave sent through your body.

A small whimper escaped you but you stopped it immediately.

“No, don’t be shy, make all the noise you want, it’s more fun that way,” she said slyly. She kissed her way back up your neck to your lips.

You sat there a while, your lips dancing against hers. It wasn’t the first time you’ve made out, that’s happened a lot, but this time was different. It felt special, maybe because it was, but you knew that you had nothing to worry about.

“Lay down,” she whispered.

So you did and watched as she crawled on top of you, again this wasn’t the first time you were in this position but it felt like it was. Your hands roamed all over her back and muscular arms as one of her hands traced your body and sneaked its way under your shirt.

Slowly, she grazed her hand over your breast, “this okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded as you held her face and began to kiss her again.

She smiled into the kiss as she gave a small squeeze and went back to tracing your body.

You stayed in this position for a while, her hands finding any skin she could get in contact with as you writhed under her.

The tattooed hand snuck its way to your waistband, “Can I take these off?” she breathed.

You hesitated a bit looking into her icy blue eyes, “yes.”

A devilish smirk grew on her face as she pulled your pants off of you, she didn’t go too far though and decided against taking off your underwear.

You shivered at the cool air but it quickly went away when she placed herself back on top of you. She rested on her elbow as she laid on her side with her leg over yours, pulling you in tightly with her free hand.

“Still okay?” she moved a strand of your hair out of your face.

“Mhmm,” you nodded with a smile.

“Do you want to go further or stay here a while?”

You thought about it for a minute, moving your hand over her thigh.

“You can go further,” you hesitated.

“Okay, baby. If you want to stop, just tell me. Again this is at your pace, I’m here to please you,” her voice was low and calm which calmed you in the process.

You nodded your head, biting your lip. Her free hand felt its way down your chest, to your stomach and down to your center. She gently slid her hand down making contact with your clit ever so slightly. Your hips jerked a little. She chuckled before going back to kissing you. The hand repeated this movement a few more times before adding more pressure. After a few moments of that, she changed her hand’s position and began to draw small circles over your sensitive bud.

“This okay?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” you breathed.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yeah,” you said with a little more confidence.

She smiled into the kiss in response.

It’s not like you haven’t orgasmed before, but this was the first time someone else was doing it. So it didn’t take long for you to realize that the familiar feeling in your stomach was starting to form. You didn’t want to seem too desperate so you tried to hold off as long as you could.

Your hips were moving against her hand perfectly though and your breathing was becoming heavier, you weren’t sure if you could hold it. Small moans and whines have been escaping this whole time but they’ve gotten louder within the past few minutes.

“I know you want to,” she cooed, “don’t be shy now, princess. You’ve done so well for me.”

You didn’t know you liked praise until this very moment. Thankfully, the knot in your stomach finally released, “oh fuck,” you whimpered quietly. Your back arched, pushing your ribs into her as your nails dig into her muscular arm.

She let you ride it out as long as it took, watching you squirm under her, smiling and thinking of all the ways she could make you do this over and over and over.

Once you finally relaxed, she rested her head on her fist and landed her free hand on her side. You lolled to your back with your eyes closed, after realizing you unknowingly turned yourself into her during the process.

“How are you feeling?” she asked calmly.

“Good,” you turned to look at her with a small smile.

“Oh… well, next time I’ll make you feel great,” she giggled.

“Can’t wait.”

#rhea ripley #wwe #rhea ripley x reader #gentle giant mami

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chemicallywrit · 2 months

Text

Happy Audio Drama Sunday! I heard so many good shows this week, let’s goooooo

🥃 I started listening to @breakerwhiskey this week, and I’m on episode 21 (which is nothing, it’s microfic), and it is so compelling. Lauren Shippen said in episode zero that she misses the improvisational feel of early audio dramas and that really comes through in this show—the wandering of the story reflects the wandering of Whiskey herself. I can’t wait to see what happens next.

🎵I am not alone in my reaction to the new season of @hellofromthehallowoods, which I think goes something like, “Wh—who—but—Arnold?????” (Seriously, Arnold???) but I love a mystery, and I love how linear this season is starting out. I’m sure that it’ll all get more complicated soon.

💔 Have you all heard Josie’s Lonely Hearts Club? It’s a call-in advice show from a fictional radio station and it is HILARIOUS. Until this last episode, which got SAD. It's a partially improvised show, so the whole thing feels so incredibly human and it always hits. Please listen, more fictional advice shows all around.

🐺 The Midnight Burger/The Amelia Project crossover was exactly as delightful as I expected. We got two shows that love historical figures and putting people in the deep freeze. What could go wrong! Absolutely nothing. With a crossover episode I always wonder if there will be enough character interaction to slake my insatiable character dynamic thirst and for this one I definitely think there was.

🍺 Inn Between dropped an episode of Dragon’s Rest on their feed this week, and I'm here to say that we did that because it's frikkin hilarious. This last episode was so good, especially with Shax trying to talk to a bartender and the bartender getting mad that Shax was complaining about her friends and not having a professional business conversation. I love you, southern-sounding bartender, and I love you Shax.

🩸Hemophobia continues to scare the heck out of me. This series, Camp Havenside, ended exactly how I expected it to, with the extra twist of that horrible half-possessed state Sam is in. Lordt. Listen to this show. Mind the content warnings. Then like, message me about it, it has taken permanent residence in my brain.

🎭 Oh Malevolent, you never disappoint me. I adore the twists the season finale took, and the real danger Arthur and John were in had me on the edge of my seat. How are we gonna get outta this one boys! Frikkin Kayne.

💎 As it ever is, @kingmakerpod was a blessing visited upon my podcatcher. Oh man though, Lucas Lando, what a scuzbag. Like maybe the worst villain yet in this series for me, and I'm including the psychic child. Lando's just unsavory. The action scenes in this episode were excellent, and I love the use of Pocket Cinnamon. For a minute when they were looking for things in the barn that don't conduct electricity, I was very worried for the cows. Honestly now a little surprised they didn't explode a cow. Hey guys, why didn't you explode a cow?

🌈 I've been listening to this actual play, @ourstoriedinsight, and it's about all the typical actual play stuff--a party of misfit adventurers, thrown together by circumstance, trying to stop the end of the world. What stands out about this one is its wonderful sound design and its tone--it's so introspective and kind. The characters are great too. I would die for Vishakapar. If you like an actual play and you don't want to wait for it to get really good, please check out Our Storied Insight.

As for personal news, boy oh boy am I working hard on the Dead! Pray for our recording schedule these next couple weeks. As for Inn Between, we'll be putting up an episode this week that is a true banger, I hope you like it.

That's it for me this week! If you like what I do, send me a tip!

#audio drama sunday #audio fiction #fiction podcast #audio drama #breaker whiskey #hello from the hallowoods #josie's lonely hearts club #dragon's rest #hemophobia podcast #malevolent #the kingmaker histories #our storied insight

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bookshelf-dust · 1 year

Text

the ache

billy hargrove x gn!byers!reader

word count: 625

warnings: grieving, mentions of death, post the battle of starcourt

a/n: um, so…i just wrote this in thirty minutes, give or take. it’s a bit of dialogue that i’ve been kind of toying with in my head for a few days, and here i am, at one in the fucking morning, writing this. i’m sorry in advance. (also for context, none of the season three hopper death shit happened.) i love you all. <3333

————

When you don’t show for dinner, Joyce knows exactly where you are.

There’s no guesswork, or calling around. She knows.

She knows because she’s been where you are. And she knows you shouldn’t be alone.

She remembers when Hopper had come and sat on the floor in front of her without a word. It had settled something inside of her, that small gesture. Sure, it hadn’t soothed the ache—nothing could do that, nothing but time—yet it had helped. It felt like a breath of fresh air.

Joyce parks the car, and makes her way to where she stood all those months ago as they lowered him into the ground.

You’d been silent then. She wasn’t sure you were breathing, really. And when they’d finished, when the funeral was over, you’d just stood there. And she’d waited until you made your way to the car, and she took you home. Anything for her baby.

————

The grass is chilly under your palms, where you’re desperately ripping the blades up and flinging them to the sides. There might be two sparse patches left by the time you’re finished, but that’s okay. It’ll grow back.

Your face is wet. You gave up on wiping it dry long ago.

When you hear footsteps behind you, you don’t even have to turn because you know exactly who it is. Who’s come for you.

You start to cry again, but this time it’s worse. This time you’re sobbing.

Joyce sits down beside you, settling on her knees.

You look up at her, but you can’t really see her because your eyes are filling with tears and blurring your vision.

“Oh, baby,” Joyce says. She runs her hand over your leg.

You cry out. You’re practically wailing. It hurts, you’ve noticed. It’s like an ache, and it won’t leave. It stays.

You look away from her and at his headstone. William Hargrove, it reads.

That’s all he is now, a plot. A marker. A memory.

“Mama.” Joyce never takes her eyes off of you. Seeing you like this fills her with an immense grief, and she wants nothing more than to make it all go away. To fix it. To kiss it better.

“Mama, I miss him.”

A sob wrenches free from your throat, and you’re wiping desperately at your face again because now she’s here and she can see you at your weakest. But it’s no use, so you let it come.

“My baby,” you cry.

Images of Billy flash through your mind: sitting with him in the staff room while it rained one day at the pool and no one could swim, helping him get a tangle out of his hair, kissing him on the cheeks just to see him blush.

He’s gone. He’s never coming back. Your Billy is dead.

“Mama, please.”

You don’t know why you’re begging, but you are. And you keep begging, like it’s going to fix something. It’s not.

Please what? Please bring my boyfriend back. Please undo what happened that night. Please let him be safe. Please.

Joyce wraps her arms around your shoulders and you cling to her like you’re afraid she’ll disappear too. Like she’ll be in the ground and you’ll be sitting and crying out for her just as you are now.

You’re not sure how long you cry for, but she lets you for as long as you need.

And when you’re done, you go home and lay in bed. You slip on one of his shirts, and you think about him.

You cry some more, and try to remember something Hopper told you after he’d taken you out of the mall that night.

“That feeling never goes away. But everyday it does get a little easier.”

You hope he’s right.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x gn!reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x gender neutral reader #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove ficlet #billy hargrove angst #billy stranger things fic #billy stranger things #billy hargrove x byers!reader #billy hargrove x gn!byers!reader #byers!reader #joyce byers #jim hopper #savannah’s fics

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layviyu · 4 months

Text

PJSK CHARACTERS WATCHING THEIR S/O DIE OVER AND OVER

short desc: kinda like the madoka magica plot where homura becomes a traumatized war veteran because madoka always dies

type: bulleted hcs

characters: hinomori shizuku, mochizuki honami, kamishiro rui, shinonome ena, aoyagi toya

genre: slight angst

note: i wrote this on january 2023 and i dont remember anything so it probably sucks

@ hinomori shizuku

shizuku was completely exhausted, to say the least.

she couldn’t bear the feeling of losing you and having to start over every time. having to turn the both of you into strangers again. her loving you with all her heart, and you not even knowing who she is.

even shiho, who’s not the closest to her sister, notices her sudden mood drop, yet, uncertain of what could be troubling her, she decides not to ask.

whenever shizuku sees you for the ‘first time’ again, she wishes she could tell you what to do to avoid your death, but she couldn’t — that would only make things worse, and she’s very well aware of that.

as much as it pains her, she can only do small things to try to change the future, for now.

“I promise you, one day, it’ll be over. And when that day comes, I can finally spend my so-desired time with you.”

@ mochizuki honami

what was honami doing wrong?

she did everything, everything, to avoid that terrible fate. but it couldn’t be helped — it would still happen, no matter how much she tried.

she gave her all, she devoted herself to saving you. she was trying her best, her all, to keep you safe and alive. apparently, it wasn’t good enough. it was never good enough. every time, you’d end up dying in her arms. over and over.

whenever she sees you for the ‘first time’, she feels her heart ache. knowing that she’ll have to go through everything again and again, only for a false image of hope that maybe, maybe she could save you.

she never had the chance to tell you the words she was dying to say. even in your last moments, she couldn’t bring herself to say it. ever since the first tragedy, you’ve never heard the words ‘I love you’ from her ever again.

“Once I can finally let my guard down, then I’ll allow myself to soften at your touch. I love you. Evsen if I’m not ready to say it, I hope you know that.”

@ kamishiro rui

as much as he wanted to, rui couldn’t give up. not yet. not until he saved you.

why him? why you? why did you both have to be disturbed in such a manner?

in the beginning, he thought himself to be really lucky, to have the opportunity of being with you one more time. but as more time passed, he started to believe this was not a blessing — but instead a curse.

waking up, knowing that he’d try his all to save you but being aware that it all would go to waste, was extremely exhausting.

whenever he saw you for the ‘first time’, he could feel himself relaxing at the thought of being together with you again. having your hands run through his hair, having you laugh at his cringey pick-up lines... he yearned for that, even if he knew he couldn’t have it, at least not at that time.

he watched you die over and over. eventually, death was not a new concept to him. but every time, even knowing it wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last, watching your lifeless body always gave him a feeling of despair.s

you always called him a genius, then, why? why couldn’t he come up with a brilliant plan, as you’d say, to save you? why couldn’t he save the one person who stood by him at all times?

“I want to be with you so bad, but still, I’m not able to keep you here long enough. What am I doing wrong, my love?”

@ shinonome ena

this wasn’t fair. this wasn’t fair at all. why did they have to take you — ena’s favorite person?

she’d give 110% of her to keep you, even knowing that she couldn’t be with you, knowing that you’d die again, she still chased after your life as if it’d be the last thing she’ll ever do.

sometimes, she couldn’t help but being irritated. if only she didn’t love you, this wouldn’t be happening to her. she was very well-aware that this was one selfish thought, but she thought about it every now and then. despite being mad, she could never say that she regretted loving you.

whenever she saw you for the ‘first time’, she knew it was important to keep her distance, for your safety. despite that, she glanced at you quite often, fighting the urge to go after you.

having to be emotionally distant from you frustrated her. she watched you talk to a lot of people throughout the day, knowing that she wouldn’t be one of them. after all, you were still her significant other, even if you didn’t know it.

“Why won’t you simply stay?! Damn it... I want you to be safe, be alive, be mine! And I’ll make sure it happens, even if it takes a hundred... no, a thousand times.”

@ aoyagi toya

the only thing toya wished for was for it to be over.

it was extremely tiring. he’d never do something that pains him, but he couldn’t give up on you just yet. even if he has to go through the same feeling of emptiness every time, he’s willing to do it, if it means saving you.

not only that, but even his bandmates notice his sudden lack of motivation. every time, akito confronted him about that, but he never answered. he couldn’t tell him the truth, he’d never believe it. it was awful to avoid his best friend, but he couldn’t help it, rescuing you was his top priority.

whenever he saw you for the ‘first time’, you merely looking at him already made his heart flutter, as if it were before the tragedy. he loved to see you so... lively. yet, he knew he shouldn’t let his guard down, as he was already aware of what would happen.

he tried his best to keep you away from danger, directly or indirectly, but none of his actions seemed to help. in the end, he always held your lifeless body, never having the chance to confess his undying love for you once more.

“I’ll do everything for things to go back as they used to be. Even if it takes thousands of times, I won’t give up, not until I make sure you’re safe.”

layviyu — do not repost my work on any other social media

posted on: 01/03/2024 — last edited on: 01/14/2024

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samsvenn · 1 year

Note

Sakamakis having an argument with their s/o hc's ?

𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬/𝐨

important announcement at the bottom!

𝐒𝐡𝐮

Silent and petty; this man has mastered both. He knows that you know that he knows, but does he do anything about it? Unless you burn his sheet music or cut off his violin strings, for the next following week, this man might as well have been turned to stone by none other than medusa herself

The key here is that you SHOULD NOT know why he’s silent and petty

The main reason is that he doesn’t want you to assume he cares, but that’s the thing: he does. and of course, he absolutely loathes that he does.

The other reason is that the more he thinks about the argument, the more it makes him gnaw on his gums. But, why? just why does it make his head hurt and why does he want to avoid thinking about it so much?

The longer you don’t talk to each other, the more he thinks you’re giving up on him. It's so counterintuitive because HE doesn’t want to talk to you, but YOU can’t do the same to him.

The other brothers notice how ticked off he really is when you go to talk to them, but keep avoiding shu. his staring might as well cut the others in half, including you too this man is audacious, loud and silent all at the same time like pick a struggle damn

𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐣𝐢

This man’s head has a raging mental warfare going on

Like, he doesn’t want to apologize but at the same time, he knows things will go south the longer that he doesn’t

The others start to notice how fidgety he is, as if he’s walking on eggshells. When he’s working and you’re in his vicinity, Reiji will intentionally put himself in your peripheral vision so that you can see him. It hurts to say and even acknowledge it, but the argument is making him relive the worse childhood memories and trauma Beatrix gave him.

The ignoring, the silent treatment, the unbothered look that might as well say “You’re not worth it-“, it’s so painful for him when he unconsciously recognizes the patterns between what’s happening right now and what happened with Beatrix

They should NEVER be even comparable, yet here he is now, absolutely mortified

He will get on his knees and beg for your forgiveness and lord, it is the saddest cry for help you’ll ever see from the vampire. After everything that has happened, everything you look into his eyes, you can’t shake off the feeling that whenever Reiji looks in your eyes, the person he sees isn’t you anymore, but rather, his mother.

It’ll take a lot of time and patience, but you really do have to be patient with Reiji. The poor man isn’t used to being emotionally vulnerable with anyone in centuries and the fact that the first person he’s ever argued with his emotions threatening to burst out is you, his lover, is a new emotional landmine Reiji has yet to explore and experience.

𝐀𝐲𝐚𝐭𝐨

Sulky, pouty and agitated - expect a lot of huffs and puffs from the redhead

UnSurprisingly, he’s the first to apologize after 35 minutes pass by. Listen, the man follows his heart and if his heart feels icky with the awkward tension the argument caused, you better believe he’ll try to make it go away the best he can

His way of apologizing is straight to the point, yet it’s so bad??

“Listen! I know you’re still mad, and I am too! But, this is fucking awkward and that’s one thing I am NOT nor will I ever be! H-Hey! I apologize already, so you gotta do the same and reciprocate. Haa?! Whaddaya mean it doesn’t work that way-?!”

Bless his heart, he’s trying his best

𝐋𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐨

Makes a lot of jokes about it and doesn’t take the argument seriously

He’s mostly avoiding feeling guilty by gaslighting you into believing “the argument’s not that deep-“ because he doesn’t want to take accountability nor does he want to be emotionally involved with you

The last time he was emotionally attached to someone, it didn’t end so well and the last thing Laito wants is to dig a new hole in the cementary

Being honest is something very difficult with Laito because throughout his emotional developmental stage, nobody ever taught him how to navigate his feelings. So, you’re basically walking a very thin tightrope on whether you should talk to him or not. And Laito? He doesn’t even know what to do himself. His view with relationships is so shattered that with you being his lover, he tries to do the ‘right thing’, but the problem is he doesn’t know what the ‘right thing’ looks like

The main key here is you don’t let him twist and manipulate your words. Every time you try to explain something, you have to explain it in a way that can’t be misinterpreted. Basically, extremely extremely simplified.

“And I feel extremely on edge because I don’t want you to think I don’t care for you, but I also don’t want you to think that I’m letting this slide.”

“Why don’t you just let it slide, hm~? Is little this argument of ours and your pride more important than me?”

“No, it’s not. In fact, by talking with you, it shows that I care enough to at least make sure you understand me and I understand you. I want you to understand what I’m feeling, where I’m coming from and vice versa. I also want to know what you’re feeling, because I do care about you and your feelings.”

Be careful though. If you’re not careful, Laito will try and spin the argument to make you question YOURSELF, because the more you focus on you rather than him, the better for Laito

𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐨

If somehow you didn’t end up as a wax doll or in a coffin, then man you are lucky

He is extremely paranoid and anxious that you’ll leave him for somebody else because of the argument so whatever you do, isolate yourself or he will be the one to enforce it

Honestly, if you value your life, the best thing to do is to stay quiet and avoid the topic of the argument like the Black Death plague. You don’t want to give Kanato more reasons to put you in the wax doll room

It’s pretty complicated but the more you try to reason with Kanato, the more he rationalizes it as you not trusting/believing in him. This causes a trigger of negative emotion to burst out because since you’re his special darling, the one he is so vulnerable with, it means you don’t accept him = you don’t love him unconditionally. That small thought quickly overrides everything in his brain

You shouldn’t even have disagreed with him in the beginning so the fact that you did in the argument, in his head, means that you don’t ‘love him’ because if you did, then “the argument would’ve never happened in the first place-!”

But then a dilemma happens: should he try and apologize? If he does, it’ll make you like him again. But, if it’ll make you like him again, then it means you currently don’t like him. But if you currently don’t like him, then that means he can make you like him again. But if he can make you like-

Unpredictably aggressive and confused, so take extreme caution

𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐮

The second guy to apologise within the day. He knows how valuable communication is since it was what Karl had taken away from him and Christa, so you bet he’s working overtime in forming an apology to you

In truth, he just doesn’t like that this situation makes him feel really uncomfortable and small, the same way he felt when Christa refused to talk to him. He feels really vulnerable and powerless, and he doesn’t like it one bit.

He just wants the situation to end as soon as possible. It’ll take him a few paragraphs, but he needs to quickly get that nasty feeling of abandonment out or else it’ll swallow him whole

important announcement!

＼（^０＾）／

I want to thank everyone for the support and appreciation you’ve all given me! From reading my fics and hcs, to liking them and just in general enjoying my silly writings, I am so happy to say that I have reached 500+ supporters!

DL has been a big part of my life. It was the happiest accidental discovery I’ve made. I haven’t been active here for several months because in true AO3 fashion, I’ve migrated to a new country, many things happened in my life, I’m a new person in a new country and I started a new life there. I haven’t written anything in three months and as a writer, I don’t know if my writing has gotten better or if it has gone downhill.

I am extremely saddened by the deactivation of Nutaella-Kookie’s account because she’s the person who inspired me and many others in the community to create our tumblr blogs and share our passion for DL. Adding to that, I’ve noticed that there are many DL blogs, who are my favs and I regularly check their accounts for new posts, have started to become inactive and possibly have been abandoned. Sadly, I’ve also been a victim of considering to abandon my account. (｡T ω T｡)

It’s not because I hate writing, but because I’ve simply been experiencing life and have been busy. Not only that, but I’ve been experiencing severe burn out in these months. As a writer, I want to have fun in my writing! But there are times that I don’t look forward to writing, rather, I feel tired and drained to create stuff. I feel like every person who’s ever had a hobby or passion has experienced this sense of creative lethargy. (╯︵╰,)

That’s why I’m so thankful; when I logged into my account, I was so overjoyed that people still like my past writings and fics ranging from the really old ones to the current ones. As a fandom writer, the joy you all have made me feel is extraordinary. I hope my writings and fics have brought you all comfort, joy, relief, escape and everything else in between. Writing is my happy escape, and I sincerely do hope that my works have given you solace and peace in this current hectic world. ♡( ◡‿◡ )

This isn’t a goodbye post, but a massive thank-you letter to the DL community. The reason for why this isn’t a post of its own is because I wanted this to reach many people and wanted this to be under the DL tag. Once again, you all inspire me to continue on writing, and I can’t thank you all enough with words, so I hope my heart has reached yours and my love for you can be felt ♡(ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc)

#diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers fandom #diahell #dl #rejet #diabolik boys #shu sakamaki #reiji sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #laito sakamaki #kanato sakamaki #subaru sakamaki #diabolik lovers headcanons #headcanons #sakamaki brothers

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