#ate some mild spice

[albywritesfiction]

So if Ædan can last more than a few seconds l, hopefully his brother-with all his physical prowess- can go all night. 👀👀👀

SPARRING, of course! 😂😂

Hello Anon!

(kinda spicy again if you get it 😂)

🤣 Of course, of course, Ædric can spar with MC until they're both a mess 🤭

[zepskies]

Lost Time

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: When Russell takes longer than usual on a job out of town, you realize how hard it is to live half a life with him.  

AN: I’ve been wanting to get to this for a while now! Here’s a sequel story in the Every Second Counts world. Also, this is one of my entries for @jacklesversebingo!

Prompt: “Are you trying to get us in trouble?”

Word Count: 4.9K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, fluff upon fluff, implied smut, mild spice.~ **DOES NOT contain spoilers for 2x02. This was written long before the new episode came out. But look out for the little announcement at the end. Some (smutty) bonus content on the way!

💜 Series Masterlist || Jacklesverse Bingo Masterlist

Wolfing down lunch alone in your office usually meant you wouldn’t be disturbed. That distraction tended to come in the form of either Dr. Goldstein, History Department Chair (AKA: your boss), or Chris Belmont.

The latter was a language arts professor who liked to pop in on you when you were alone in the teacher’s lounge, often trying to revive yourself with a cup of Keurig coffee. Or he’d sit down next to you (uninvited) and talk your ear off.

Today, however, you made time for your brother between bites of your admittedly sad ham sandwich. You held the phone to your ear while you ate and tried to resist the urge to answer emails. This was the first month that he’d gotten phone privileges. You wanted to give him your undivided attention.

Not to mention, you genuinely wanted to know how Charlie was doing in rehab. He told you that his leg was healing up well after the surgery to repair the damage from Eddie Mendez’s bullet. Charlie was also getting put through his paces in the substance rehabilitation program, but he sounded truly sober. He sounded like himself.

“I finally get visitors this weekend,” he said. “Dave and Manny are coming by.”

“Dave and Manny. They sound familiar,” you said, tapping your chin with a pen out of habit, even though you weren’t writing anything down. You brightened with recognition. “Oh! Didn’t they serve with you?”

“Yeah, they were in my unit on the first go-round,” Charlie said, with a tone of fondness that you recognized. You remembered now. Those guys were like his brothers during his first tour of Iraq. He’d come home for a few months afterward, changed. You saw it behind his eyes.

And then the second tour. That was what almost killed his spirit.

“It’s good that you guys reconnected,” you said. A smile graced your lips. Charlie needed all the support and familiarity he could get, and coming from his brothers in the Air Force, it was all you could ask for really. “You got time to see your little sister?”

“Ha. Younger maybe. Definitely not little.”

“Whatever, gimpy,” you teased. He’d told you that he hated his crutches, made him feel like an old, one-legged pirate.

“I think I can pencil you in,” he said. There was good humor in his voice. “How about the Mountain Man? How’s he doing?”

Your smile dimmed. You twiddled your pen between your fingers. “He’s…good. He’s on a job right now, so I don’t think he’ll make it back in time for this weekend. But I’m sure he’d wish you well. He asks about you every time he comes home.”

“Oh, yeah? How long’s he been gone for this time?”

Your lips pursed. “Couple weeks.”

Three, and counting.

“But he’s supposed to get back next week.”

“Have you heard from him?” Charlie asked.

“Here and there,” you replied, leaning to one side of your desk chair. “He’s not really supposed to contact anyone when he’s on a job.”

“Mhmm.”

“Charlie,” you warned. You knew what he was thinking, even by that placid tone of his voice. Your brother sighed on the line.

“Look, I like Russell. What can I say, after what he did for you? For me,” Charlie said. “But…I don’t have to like what he does, or what it’s doing to you.”

Your teeth clenched, but you tried not to bristle. You knew he was just looking out for you, for once like an older brother should.

“I know what you’re saying, but we’re good. I’m good,” you said. “I knew what I was getting into…”

You saw Dr. Goldstein peek into the narrow, rectangular window in the middle of your office door. He gave you a little wave through the glass.

“Hey, Charlie, I’m sorry but I need to let you go. My boss wants to talk to me,” you said.

Another heavy sigh. “All right, I get it. Evade an unsavory conversation by playing the ‘boss’ card.”

Despite yourself, you smiled. “It’s true! Look, I love you. I’ll see you this weekend.”

“Oh, fine. Evade away… Love you too,” he said begrudgingly, but in the kind of way that told you he was smiling too.

You hung up with him and beckoned Goldstein inside. He let himself in and closed the door behind him before he approached your desk. He didn’t have a stack of essays in his hand, so you counted that as a small blessing. After exchanging the usual pleasantries, however, he dropped a familiar bomb on you.

“I’m sorry to do this to you, sweetheart, but would you mind taking over my 5:00 p.m. class tomorrow? I have to step out early for an appointment,” he said.

You grated internally, for more than one reason. Primarily at the way he once again called you sweetheart. In your whole life, you’d only ever given one man permission to sweetheart you, and it certainly wasn’t Paul Goldstein.

“Well, my schedule is a bit tight tomorrow, but I think I can make that work—”

“Great! Thanks again, sweetheart,” he said, already getting up from the chair across from your desk to head out. Your voice stopped him at the door.

“Ah, you know…” You stood up from your desk. Part of you was hesitant, but the other part of you—the part that had survived nearly being shot and killed in the woods—stood firm. You rounded your desk but left a respectable distance between you and your boss.

“Paul, I would appreciate it if you would just…call me by my name. In a more professional capacity, just like I do for you,” you said. “Sweetheart, honey, that kind of thing just doesn’t make me feel very respected in the workplace.”

Goldstein blinked in surprise. He was taken aback, you could tell, as if what you’d said had never once occurred to him. Or maybe he just never thought you would call him out like that. You saw him mentally calculating though. After some recent sexual harassment allegations in the Sciences department, he likely didn’t want the headache and the red tape of an HR writeup.

“Of course. I’m sorry if I… Well, I hope you know I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said.

“I know, Paul,” you replied. But what you didn’t say was, It’s all right. 

The longer you remained quietly poised with your hands laced in front of you, the more Goldstein seemed to get the message. Eventually, he cast his gaze away and left your office with a parting nod. 

When the door shut behind him, your shoulders slumped as you let out a deep breath. You grabbed onto his vacated chair to steady yourself, smoothing your hand down the length of your pencil skirt. 

“Well, okay then.” You smiled to yourself and grabbed your phone and keys off your desk. That small win deserved an afternoon coffee break.

You ventured over to the faculty break room and started setting up an extra-large mug of coffee from the Keurig. Pumpkin spice, here I come. Finally PSL season. 

While you waited for it to percolate, you checked your phone and found no missed notifications, no calls or texts from your boyfriend. Biting the edge of your lip, you gave into the urge to check your text thread with him. 

Hey, just checking in. You okay? 

That was the last text you sent Russell, a few days ago. The fact that he hadn’t had time to read it worried you.

It had been three weeks since he left town on another job for the Horizon Group. He was able to reply here and there on some jobs, but often you had to deal with days of radio silence in between. This time, it had been a full two weeks since you last spoke to him–a five-minute call after he checked into his hotel, somewhere in Belize.

Despite your attempts otherwise, not a day had gone by where you hadn’t thought about him, worried about him, wondered where he was, and what he was doing. 

Even after four months, this arrangement hadn’t gotten easier. Sometimes, it felt like you were living half a life without him.

The coffeemaker chiming briefly broke you out of your melancholy, but you let the coffee sit there and cool while you deliberated with your phone in hand.

You tried to resist, since you didn’t want to bother him…but you ended up sending him another text. 

Hey. I don’t want to distract you. Just want you to know… 

I miss you.

“Oh, look who’s here.”

You looked up, already wanting to expel a breath of annoyance at the familiar voice. You plastered on a polite smile and turned to see exactly who you expected to see: your colleague Chris. There was really nothing wrong with the French and Spanish professor…except that he talked too much, and was often too eager to get into your business.

“How’s your day going?” he asked. After he grabbed a soda from the fridge, he parked himself in front of you and laid a hand on the counter. With one of the round dining tables so close, it ensured that you would have to squeeze by him in order to leave.

“Pretty good, just have one more class before I head out for the day,” you said. You intended to just make amiable conversation, but you didn’t realize you’d just given him an opening.

“You know, me too. Just my freshman Spanish 1 kids. Dumb as doornails really. They barely even look up when I talk,” he said. “Literally, I could be reciting Mein Kampf and they wouldn’t even know I was speaking German.” 

You couldn’t quite smile. You opened your mouth to reply, but he beat you to it.

“Hey, since we’re going to be clocking out soon, maybe you want to go for a drink with me. I know this bar. A little rough, but the price is right and the food’s not bad. This place called Howley’s,” he said.

Your non-smile dropped further. You really didn’t know where to start on this one.

“Ah, well—” you began, but again, he cut you off.

“To be honest, I’ve kind of been meaning to ask you for a while. I just uh, haven’t been able to find the right time. Since, you know, our class schedules don’t seem to match,” he added with a boyish smile.

He was cute, you could admit, with the dirty blonde hair down to his ears and the dark brown eyes. But it didn’t shake your resolve.

“Look, Chris. I’m sorry, but—”

“Is because we work together?” he said, once again interrupting you. “The whole workplace relationship thing?”

“No,” you said. It was sharper than you meant through your annoyance. “I actually have a boyfriend.”

Chris’s excited-nervous energy gradually deflated, his eyes dimming.

“Really? I’ve never seen you with anyone,” he said.

You quirked a brow at him. “Well, he doesn’t work here, so he wouldn’t really need to come to campus.”

You didn’t tell him that Russell was Dory’s older brother, and had in fact been on campus a couple of times. You shouldn’t have needed to explain it.

Chris gave you a wry look. “Sure. You really have a boyfriend, or are you just trying to let me down easy?”

You almost gaped at the man’s audacity. Instead, your lips pressed together, and your head tilted as you stared at him incredulously.

“Does it matter?” you asked.

He blinked. “Uh, what?” 

“Whatever I say next, are you going to believe it?” You finished dumping in a couple of tiny creamer cups into your likely lukewarm coffee, and you took the styrofoam cup to-go. “Good luck with the freshmen.” 

You slid past him and left the teacher’s lounge. Your path took you, brusquely and irritated, back to your office. You couldn’t help but replay every bit of your interactions with Goldstein, and then Chris, in your mind like a bad movie. 

Jesus Christ. If I have to deal with one more idiotic man today, I swear—

Speak of the devil, and he appears.

There was a man leaning against your office door, his hands in the pocks of his jeans. He looked up at your approach, and he smiled. 

“Hey, sweetheart.”

This time, you paused…and you smiled too. There he was in all his rugged glory. Russell Shaw. 

You dumped your coffee in a nearby trashcan and hastened over as quickly as you could in your skirt and heels. Russell bent down to sweep you up into his arms, and you leaned up on your toes so you could wrap yours around his shoulders. You buried your face into his neck, inhaling the familiar mix of his cologne and spicy soap. 

“Missed you too,” he said, a deep rumble. It washed over you pleasantly. 

“I thought you weren’t getting home until sometime next week,” you said, trying to work past the thick well of emotion in your throat. Maybe he heard it in your voice anyway, because Russell soothed a hand over your hair and pressed a kiss near your ear.

“Got finished up early,” he said, with that familiar grin of his. You could hear it in his voice.

You slipped your fingers through his long dark hair. Then you leaned back enough to see his face. 

“How’d you know I wasn’t in class?” you asked. 

He raised his hand off your back to point up at the sign on your door. It displayed your office hours and the times you were in class. He shot you a wink.

“I might’ve called Dory too,” he said. “She invited us over for dinner tonight. I said we’d be there around seven.”

You tsked and smack his chest, making him flinch. 

“Hey!” he protested with a laugh. 

“Don’t agree to stuff without me! Now we’re going to be out all night the day you get back,” you said in annoyance. 

Russell smoothed down your proverbial feathers, namely by slipping his hands down your back and comfortably settling on your waist. 

“Now, come on,” he cajoled. “Need I remind you that she’s my sister, and your best friend, by the way?”

You waved a playfully dismissive hand.

“I know damn well, but I’m also selfish,” you said. You gripped the edges of his familiar green jacket and tugged him closer again. “I want you all to myself tonight.” 

Russell’s grin kicked up into high gear. “Oh, yeah? What for?”

You smiled and leaned up on your toes again, your lips approaching his. 

“I’m gonna—”

“Hey, Professor!” 

Just then, one of your students walked by with a gaggle of her friends. She gave you a little wave, and then an amused look when she noted how you and Russell were intertwined. You quickly set your heels back on the ground and dropped your hands from him. 

“Oh shit. Prof’s got game,” one of her friends whispered. 

“Yeah, a lumberjack,” she replied. 

“Hell, I’d climb him.”

The girls giggled quietly as they continued to make their way down the hall. 

Your hand rose to cover your mouth while your face burned hot in embarrassment. Russell, damn him, was smirking like the Cheshire cat. You shot him a little glare. 

“Shut up,” you said. 

He chuckled, and he allowed you to take his hand and lead him into your office. He closed the door for you, but that was where the chivalry ended. 

He hooked his arm around your waist and brought you flush against him. A stunned yelp escaped you. You grabbed onto his arms on reflex, craning your face up to meet him. A smile played on your lips, before he captured them in a kiss filled with heat, and the torture of longing, only broken by your shared relief.  

You had the presence of mind to reach behind him and lock the door. Russell took that as an invitation to back you up against your desk, knocking down a carton of pens in his wake. You held his bearded face and gave him as much as he asked for. Until the pace of his kisses eventually slowed and warmed into something more tender, with the brush of his hand against your cheek. You smiled a little against his lips. 

He ended up being the first to pull away. His thumb brushed your chin next, and then your thoroughly kissed bottom lip. 

“God, I missed you,” he said. You saw the sincerity in his eyes, all the heat and play and teasing aside.

“Me too, baby,” you replied, and your voice was heavy with the truth of it. You slid your hands down his arms. Suddenly you remembered your internal checklist for whenever he came home. “You okay? No hospital stays or checkups needed?”

Your hands continued their perusal over his chest and down his sides. Russell took your hands and un-busied them. 

“Completely fine. Everything went off without a hitch,” he said. 

You eyed him more warily. After a moment to try and discern if he was downplaying for your sake, you were able to take him at his word. For now. It wouldn’t be the first time he tried to hide an injury from you. You intended to complete a further examination later tonight. You smirked a little at the thought.

“Okay, I’ve just got one more class in a few minutes. Then I can get out of here,” you said.

“All right,” he nodded. “I’ll meet you at home then.”

Your smile turned cheeky. You flattened your palms down his chest, plucking at the edges of his jacket.  

“Yeah? You gonna be waiting pretty for me?” you teased. 

“You bet,” he agreed. He leaned in close to say lowly in your ear, “But not as pretty as you’re gonna be when I get you all laid out for me. Get myself reacquainted with every sweet part of you.”

“Oh, really?” you said, trying to taper your blush. There was something entirely wrong and right about him talking dirty to you in your own office. You grinned as he began to press tantalizing kisses down your neck. “I guess I’m going to be the appetizer tonight.” 

His chuckle resounded in your ears. Russell squeezed your hips and brushed his lips against your skin. Damn him, he knew exactly what he was doing, making small volts of electricity zip down your spine. Warmth plumed between your legs as his beard gently rasped along your neck. 

“Sweetheart, you’re the whole damn meal,” he said, in that voice of his, smooth and baritone and perfect. 

Your blush intensified, even as your smile couldn’t help but brighten at his words. He nipped just under your ear, earning a stifled whimper from you.

“Are you trying to get us in trouble?” you whispered.

“Hey, I don’t work here,” he teased. His lips never left your skin. “I just reap the benefits.”

You fought against the urge to pinch his side. You grabbed your phone from your desk and checked the time. Shit. Almost 5:00 p.m.

All the while, Russell continued to torture you. His hands were no better than his mouth, caressing a path from your waist to your hips, then squeezing your ass as he pressed you more fully against him. He hummed against your neck.

“Oh, please don’t do this to me,” you whined, even as you clung to the front of his jacket and pressed your forehead into his shoulder. “I have to get to class in like, five minutes.” 

“I’ve accomplished quite a lot in five minutes,” Russell said. His nibbling along the shell of your ear was all too distracting as you laughed. 

“Oh, I know,” you dryly replied. “But if I let you get your hands on me now, I’m most certainly not going to be able to lecture on the ancient civilization of Mesopotamia.”

His smile grew. “I like it when you talk nerdy to me.”

Your laugh turned into a giggle. Still, your duty to your students won out. You had to press a gentle hand against his chest to push him back.

Russell let out a long-suffering groan, but he pulled away from you without losing his smile. He tucked an errant strand of hair behind your ear and caressed your cheek. 

“I’ll see you at home,” he said. 

You agreed, though when he aimed to leave, you couldn’t resist the urge to smack his ass on his way out of your office. 

He stopped short and twisted back, pointing a knowing finger at you. 

“You don’t play fair, missy,” he said. 

You smirked and tossed a kiss at him.

“See you later,” you said.

You loved Dory. You really did. But after a day like today, you were happy to finally be home after dinner at your best friend’s house. You were happy to be where you were in this moment, lying in bed with Russell, wearing nothing but one of his old shirts as Speed played on the TV against the wall. 

“You didn’t leave me…I can’t believe it. You didn’t leave me,” you quoted along with Annie, Sandra Bullock’s character. 

“Didn’t have anywhere to be just then,” Jack (the beautiful Keanu Reeves) said on the screen. The couple shared a kiss, and you let out a happy hum, making Russell look down on you in amusement. He had an arm wrapped around you as you laid tucked against his side.

“I have to warn you,” you said for Jack. “I’ve heard relationships based on intense experiences never work.” 

“Okay,” Annie (and you) replied. “We’ll have to base it on sex then.”

Jack smiled. “Whatever you say, ma’am.”

As the movie came to an end, you sighed and lowered the volume as the credits rolled. 

“How’d you like it?” you asked.

“Was good! Even though my movie buddy decided to quote half the cast,” Russell quipped. He prodded at your side like a pianist playing a Mozart cantata, making you flinch with a squawk of laughter. You grabbed his hand to try and stop him. 

When he finally let up, you sighed and caught your breath, leaning against him again.

“I still can’t believe you’ve never seen that movie,” you said. “Practically any movie, for that matter.”

“Hey, I’ve seen stuff…it’s just, you know, we didn’t really have much access to pop culture growing up,” Russell said. 

You sobered up; you were reminded that he didn’t have a normal childhood, even less so than yours. 

“That’s okay,” you said, resting a comforting hand on his chest. “I’m gonna keep helping you catch up, long as you want me to.”

Russell smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I appreciate that.”

You closed your eyes in content. 

“So,” Russell said, interrupting your peace. You heard the mischief in his voice before he even said anything else. “Am I gonna have to knock this Beaufort guy on his ass, or you got that one covered, slugger?”

You huffed in amusement. 

“Belmont,” you corrected, opening your eyes again to shoot him a wry glance. “And there won’t be any ass-kicking needed on that one. Just a typical hard-headed man with a slighted ego.”

“Oof, cut him some slack, baby. You’re a hard one to let go of,” Russell teased. You smiled.

“Hey. Don’t butter me up unless you intend to do something about it.”

“Oh, my apologies,” he said. He turned over and waylaid you with kisses along your jaw, then down the column of your throat, and further still, until he met the edge of your shirt. You felt his hands move under the hem of it, slowly bunching up the material as they slid up your body.  

Your first coming together when you two got home tonight was fraught, and a bit wild—the kind that nearly broke your headboard (again). 

Now, Russell seemed to want to take his time. He guided your shirt up, inch by inch as his lips explored whatever small expanse he bared, from the soft skin of your stomach, to the swell of your breasts. He stopped there, laying a sweet kiss in between them. You watched him with deeper breaths, but you softened when he turned his smile up at you. You saw nothing but affection in his eyes. 

“You know, the best part of my day is coming home to you,” he said.

You had to blink past the sting in your eyes, and swallow past another lump of emotion in your throat as you reached down to caress his cheek.

The hardest part of mine is watching you leave.

But you didn’t dare say that. You just guided him back up to your lips, and met him with a heated kiss.

You were nearly asleep when Russell finally came back to bed, after double-checking that the house was all locked up. He installed a more sophisticated security system a few months ago. It made him feel slightly better about leaving you alone. 

He padded back over to the bed and joined you on his side. You rested your head on his shoulder again, and he slid an arm around your waist. 

“Charlie’s doing well in his program, huh?” Russell asked. 

You’d been talking about your brother with him and Dory at dinner. 

You nodded. “Looks like it… God, I’m so proud of him. He’s really worked hard.”

Russell hummed deeply. “Glad to hear it.”

You glanced up at him, for a moment admiring his profile. He looked down and met your gaze.

“How long are you going to be home?” you asked, because you couldn’t stop yourself.

When you and Russell first started dating, he tried staying at a motel for a few weeks. You eventually invited him to just stay with you when he was in town. It made it easier to spend more time with him, since you worked a full-time schedule anyway. It was nice to come home to him, when he was here. After the surprise wore off, however, the fear always returned.

When is he leaving next?

“I don’t have another job lined up just yet,” Russell admitted. “Wanna take a couple weeks off, since this one lasted so long. I’m sorry about that.”

You were glad to hear it, so you nodded, but you had a feeling your true thoughts weren’t as well hidden as you intended. Russell searched your face.

“How’re you doing with all this?” he asked.

Your heart seized up, but you tried to play it off.

“What do you mean? We had some good food, good catching up on ‘90s movie magic, good making up for lost time,” you said playfully. You slid your leg across his lap. Russell welcomed you, drawing a hand up your thigh and under his shirt that once again hung loosely from your body. You had to reclaim it from somewhere between the sheets.

He still raised his brows at you. “You know what I mean.”

Slowly, your smile fell. Your gaze lowered. 

“Russ, I’m doing my best.”

“I know you are, sweetheart, and I appreciate that. You don’t know how much,” he said, stroking your back. “I just, uh…I know this is hard on you.”

He understood Tracy, Doug’s wife, even better now. He had been better able to sympathize with Doug too, because for the first time in his life, he had someone to come home to. Someone who was actually waiting on him to come home. It was a bigger responsibility than he thought it would be. 

You sighed. 

“Look, I’m not going to lie, this…it’s been hard as hell,” you began, closing your hand around his. “But I love you. I love you, and I still think we have a good thing here.”

That warmed him, reminded him why this was worth it. Russell nodded in agreement, and he crossed the few inches of distance that allowed him to kiss you, good and slow. 

“I love you too,” he admitted. He could count on half a hand the number of times that happened in his life, but even though it hadn’t been all that long…he thought you might be the one that finally stuck. 

Your pretty smile was just one piece of evidence. You gave that to him, and you reached up for a kiss. He obliged you in turn.  

“How about we put a timeframe on it then,” he said, after parting softly from you. 

You tilted your head in confusion, tinged with disbelief. “What?”

“How about you give me…’til the end of the year,” he said. “I know I’ve been taking a lot of jobs lately. It’s because I’m pretty close to my goal. I’ve almost got enough to find some good real estate and start working on that bar.”

Your drowsiness fell away completely as your excitement grew for him.

“Oh my God. Russ, that’s amazing!” 

Your support softened him that much more, deepening his smile. He framed your face with a hand and stroked your cheek with his thumb.

“Here’s a promise,” he said. “Six months, and no more missions. No more jobs. You’ll be stuck with me, so much that you’ll probably get sick of me.”

Your smile grew to radiant proportions.

“Hmm, maybe a little,” you teased, “but I’ll make that sacrifice.”

He grinned and drew you into another kiss. You paused, holding his bearded cheek. 

“Thank you,” you said. Russell shook his head.

“Aw, sweetheart,” he said. “You never gotta thank me for that.”

AN: Let me know if you enjoyed this little addition to ESC! 💜

Bonus Drabble:

After watching 2x02 yesterday, it gave me...feelings lol. So I ended up writing a new (very smutty) drabble to fill in a small gap in this one-shot! It's called More of This:

Summary: Welcoming Russell home, where he belongs. (18+) 

▶️ Keep Reading: More of This

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[tsukii0002]

I scrolled down thru ur blog and saw that post about the allergies and remembered that when i was a toddler i ate a spicy chilli pepper (i got an allergic reaction 💔).

I think it could be funny Mammon/Beel's reaction to MC not liking spicy things/being allergic to some spices.

Mammon: *eating the spiciest ramen in hell*.

Beel: *flavoring all his meals with all kinds of super spicy spices*

Mc: I noticed that there are a lot of spicy things in the Devildom… very spicy.

Mammon: You should try this Mc, it's yummy!!!!

Beel: And with a lot of flavor.

Mc: Ha, ha … I can't eat spicy…I can't even stand pepper….

Mammon and Beel: …

Beel: But… we always use a lot of spicy food…

Mc: *looking away*

Mammon: Why didn't you tell us anything?!!! That's why you hardly eat!!!

Mc: I didn't want to be out of tune, here you use spice even for coffee!!!!

Mammon: Damn…

Beel: Poor Mc…

Mc: *feeling a little bit guilty* …

Mammon: Don't worry!!! there's plenty of mild instant noodles and curry.

Beel: And we can look for other spices that don't sting, but season the food just as well.

Mc: Aww guys, thanks!

The three hug each other tightly

Mammon: *whispering* Can't you eat even a little bit of it?

Mc: Trust me Mammon, you don't want to see an allergic reaction to the spice.

Beel: We go ahead with the plan then.

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This is really funny because I love spicy food, but my brother can't tolerate it and many times we have experienced the situation that when he steal my food, always ends up screaming and running to get something to calm the taste. The first time Mc tried some of the Devildom they ran away and almost ended up in the palace because of the spiciness 😂😂.

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[hotchscoffeecup]

don’t punch beskar, you’ll break your hand

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Rating: M (18+ MDNI)

Word Count: 6.8k

Tags: Hand to hand fighting, Injury, Burns, Blindfolds, Penetrative Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Mild Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mando Takes Off His Helmet

Summary: You’re the Marshall of your small remote town. When you’re injured in a fight with pirates, Mando tends to your injuries. Time spent together in close quarters leads to even closer relations and when Mando suddenly disappears, you can’t help but feel used. (Happy Ending)

A/N: I wrote this back in Summer of May 2023 and am working on bringing my works over to Tumblr from AO3. I’m not super well versed in Star Wars lore outside of Mandalorian, so some details seems a little vague or inaccurate, that’s probably why! Hope you enjoy!

You nod your thanks as the bartender replaces your empty drink with a full one, flipping a few credits toward him from the dwindling tower you’d stacked in front of you earlier. A tentacle shoots out from the barkeep’s octopus-like face and snaps them out of the air. He grunts his assent and disappears into the back room.

You sip the bitter alcohol and revel in the burn as it slides down your throat to settle in your stomach and fuel the delightful buzz trilling through your body. It’s not enough to disorient you, but enough to ease the dull ache in your temples as you pour over the journal you’ve logged each and every one of your arrests in since the day you became Marshall of this godforsaken town. It’s not what you wanted to do with your life, but what else was there to do in the wake of pirates setting up shop on the outskirts of your city. There was no one in charge, never had been, and no one willing to take up the mantle. They were lost, leaderless.

And now here you are, feeling more lost than you ever had before.

You shake off the thought and return to your logs, tracking crime rates and making note of the areas with increasing levels of violence, piracy, and spice usage. Every time you thought you’d rid an area of criminal activity, it seemed as if double the illicit operations popped up in their place. So was the cost of being an independent planet. It made it all the more appealing to set up shop where there was no threat of the Republic stopping you. In a more developed part of the planet, they would’ve had the means to install better infrastructure or hire more of a guard to dissuade this sort of thing. Not here though. Not on your small blip on the map.

Crime rates had increased hard and fast, with pirates demanding protection payment from the shops and people that lived there. They were armed to teeth and operating a small black market, selling and trading spice and weapons to any and all willing to buy. And every day the market grew, attracting more criminals and making it that much harder to corral the growing threat.

You just didn’t have the manpower to take them on, so all you could do was sit and watch as they overtook the city, your city. It may be a godforsaken town, but it was yours damnit and you would die to protect it.

It had been nice once, beautiful even. The buildings sleek and well lit, laughter pouring out of open doors into the street as people and aliens alike drank, ate, and celebrated a life not run by any government or order.

The peace was short lived as pirates moved in, taking advantage of the wayward town often missed on maps by travelers and government officials alike. They were a town off grid, perfect for a crime syndicate to set up shop in. By the time you’d discerned the severity of what was happening, it was too late and it wasn’t long before they’d overtaken the city and turned it into an industrial hellhole; scrap yards piling higher than buildings destroying the views of what were once lush forests, now mines. Pirate lackies stood guard atop high metal walls that overlooked the town, ready to gun down anyone that might step too close until one day they attempted to lay the town bare; collateral damage in pursuit of establishing a central hub so they could expand their operation and make the entire city some sort of a base; the people living within the walls of the city be damned in pursuit of their own twisted little empire.

They’d have been successful if he hadn’t arrived, the Mandalorian. You’d heard rumors of one traveling the galaxy with a small green creature in tow, though the nature of the creature varied widely. When he’d arrived, there was no creature, and you didn’t feel as though it was your place to ask about it. He’d then helped without even having to be asked. No bargains. No payment. He just wanted to help.

Together, you devised a plan, and with a few of his allies in tow, you destroyed the base from the inside out; something you still can’t believe you’d managed to accomplish with so few individuals. But for the Mandalorian, he himself might as well have been the equivalent to an entire fleet of troopers and his allies the same.

You’d suffered some major burns to the right side of your body in the explosion that leveled the base, but it had been worth it to see that pirate filth laid to waste. Everything had still gone according to plan.

In the weeks that followed, the Mandalorian had tended to your injuries and saw to the restoration of the city. Your memory was hazy after the explosion, but you remembered the pain of it all; the gnawing, biting pain that cut down to your bones as he cradled you into his arms and jettisoned you back to the Razor Crest. Your vision had been hazy. blurred by the severity of the injuries and the toll they’d taken on your body. You’d barely clung to consciousness as the Mandalorian worked on the burns, the debrieding sprays and burn gels doing their job, but feeling as though your skin had caught light once more. Strained “I’m sorry’s” and “I know it hurts” had echoed through the Mandalorian’s modulator until you’d finally passed out from the pain.

It was three days until you’d opened your eyes again. And when you did, you were still in and out of consciousness, unable to keep them open for more than a few seconds at a time.

Once though, when you could manage the strength to blink through the haze, you could have sworn you’d caught a glimpse of dark hair and tan skin passing through the corridor. Your vision had been hazy with sleep and the lights dimmed. You still don’t know if that had been a dream.

On day eight you’d regained full consciousness, You awoke to find bandages soaked in some stinking salve coating the right side of your chest and shoulder, winding across your torso and down your arms. A loose sheet covered the rest of your exposed body, though someone had put a pair of loose linen trousers on you. You attempted to clench your right fist and hissed as the charred skin beneath the bandages immediately protested the movement.

You attempted to sit up and very quickly realized that was an equally stupid thing to try to do.

“Woah, stop!” instructed a modulated voice.

Your eyes flicked up toward the door, where the Mandalorian rushed in. “Take it easy,” he said, calmer this time. “Your body has been through a lot.”

“How long has it been?” You asked, disregarding the concern in his voice.

“Listen, you need to stay down and—“

“How long has it been?”

A mumbled curse hissed through the modulator before he spoke up. “Eight days.”

Your eyes flew open, “Eight?” You cried. Using your left hand to hold the sheet over your exposed chest, you forced yourself into a sitting position despite the stiff flesh under the bandages begging you to stop. “That’s unacceptable. I need to leave. I have to help my people. I need—“

“To heal,” the Mandalorian stated, a command. He took the two pillows that you’d disregarded and propped them up against the metal wall at the back of the cot and gently lowered you back onto them. “My people are on it. The black market has been eradicated. Things are being rebuilt as we speak.”

“I,” you started, but weren’t sure what to say. “I don’t understand. Why are you doing all of this? You have no allegiance to us.”

“My allegiance is to doing the right thing.”

“I don’t often find people care about what’s right or wrong,” you said bitterly, “just what will serve their own selfish agenda.” Your eyes found what you were imaging to be his behind the black T of his helmet.

He tilted his head, regarding you. After two minutes of insufferable silence, his Beskar rattled as he bent at the knees to sit on a flipped over crate near the bedside. You’d not even noticed it before he sat down. Had he sat there before during these last eight days? Watching you?

“Listen,” he began. “I’ve learned a thing or two about being selfish and constantly seeking that which would reap the greatest reward. Recently, I’ve found there are things far, far greater than just going through the motions of what you’ve been told is right and what is wrong because someone says so. I want to see the things that I do in this world actually make a difference, not just for me, but for everyone; and to do that I have to do it on my own terms. So, when I tell you I’m just trying to help,” he sighed through the modulator and leaned back against the wall, his armor clanging against it with a dull thud, “I mean it.”

His words sounded genuine enough, but you weren’t altogether sold. Though, he didn’t have to agree to help take down the pirates nor take you in. He could’ve dumped you at the local med bay and been off planet doing gods know what by now, but he stayed. Not only did he stay for you, but for your people.

“Why did you help me?” The words left your mouth before you could think them through.

His answer came fast. “You’re alone here.” He stood and reached for an overhead shelf where he withdrew a med pack. He knelt at your side and released the locks, the pack snapping open with a satisfactory click.

You watched his leather clad fingers withdraw equipment and arrange them neatly along the edge of the bed.

He snapped the med pack shut and turned his masked face in your direction. “I know what it’s like to be in pain alone, to suffer alone. I did not want that for you.”

“Begging your pardon, Mando, but why would you care what I want?”

Your eyes flickered back and forth in the dim light, searching for him behind the mask. You wished you could read his expression.

He picked up a pair of scissors, though his gloved fingers quickly posed a problem as their thick padding didn’t allow him to hold them properly.

“This was a lot easier when you were knocked out,” he muttered through the modulator. He cursed and dropped the scissors, snapping his hand free from the glove. “And my name’s not Mando,” he added, now able to comfortably pick up the scissors with his long pointer finger and thumb. “It’s Din. Din Djarin.”

You're surprised when your breath catches in your throat; not at how he’d revealed his name, but that he’d revealed any amount of skin to you; deep tan skin pebbled with scars and calluses.

“Are you allowed to do that?” You asked, voice incredulous.

The scissors slid under the bandages, stinging the burnt skin as they gently glided across. You hissed and he apologized, making sure to lift them higher as he cut away the bandages.

After a long moment, he answered. “I don’t know.” He snapped out of the other glove and made deft work of the bandages, apologizing as they stuck to your mottled flesh. “I don’t know a lot of things anymore.” This he’d spoken more so to himself.

Once the sullied bandages had been pulled away and discarded, you glanced down at your flesh, and sucked a sharp breary in through your teeth at the sight of it. No wonder you’d been out cold for over a week. The entire right side of your upper body was unrecognizable to you the way that the flames had licked and curled around your limbs. Tears stung at your eyes and you forced yourself to look away

“I know it looks bad now,” he said calmly, placing a comforting hand over your uninjured one. You're surprised by how soft it is despite its rough appearance. The gesture placated you and you find your body relaxing. “Over time it will fade and eventually look like nothing happened at all. Trust me.”

“Do what you have to do then,” you consented, knowing the treatment was probably less than pleasant.

He squeezed your hand and when he withdrew it you found yourself longing for its warmth. You brushed the thought aside as quickly as it came and braced yourself for pain as Din coated your wounds in a numbing spray; the effects of which caused your eyes to well with tears.

Flesh numbed, he spent the next hour debriding the wounds of dead flesh and applying a gel that encouraged skin cell regeneration. He then applied bandages that were soaked in a stronger version of the gel in thick layers against and around the burns.

By the time he finished you were barely able to keep your eyes open. This was the longest you’d been awake since the date of the explosion and the treatment had exhausted what little energy you had to give.

“You should sleep,” he recommended as he pulled his gloves back on, and a part of you is sad to see his hands hidden away once more. “When you next wake, we’ll try to get some solid food and water in you.”

He pulled the sheet up higher over your body, his gloved fingers lingering against your neck. Your eyes trailed up the length of his arm before reaching what you were sure to be his gaze behind the mask. He held your stare, only for a moment before he quickly withdrew his hand and stepped away toward the door.

“Get some rest.”

“Thank you,” you said softly. And as he stepped through the door you added, “Din.”

Your eyes fell shut, but not before you noticed how he paused in his tracks to take one last look at you over his shoulder before continuing on his way.

•

“Dank farrick!” Din cursed and threw his hand of cards down on your dining room table as you laughed and pulled in the ever growing pile of credits toward yourself, now easier with the improvement in mobility in your arm over the last few weeks as the burns continued to heal thanks to the Mandalorian.

“Come on, Mando!” You laughed, still not completely comfortable using his given name freely. “You wanna make it triple or nothing?”

He pointed a gloved finger directly at your face, “No.”

“Oh come on,” you begged. “I didn’t peg the Mandlorians as sore losers.”

“We should turn in,” he said, gathering the cards together. “I’ve got a run scheduled with Greef Carga and I’d like to take off before sunrise.” Greef Carga had been one of the Mandalorian’s allies who had helped them level the base. What weapons and spice caches hadn’t been destroyed, Mando had been delivering to Carga’s city where they had the proper means of destroying it. His was a city far more well equipped than yours.

“It should take two trips, right?” you asked, already concerned with the amount loaded onto the Razor Crest. If word had gotten out about the market’s destruction here, roving sects of the cartel or other pirates could be out for blood; especially if they knew the Mandalorian had been responsible. If they caught the Razor Crest with that many illegal arms and substances loaded inside of it, they would do their damndest to get it back.

He nodded. “I should be back by nightfall.”

He gathered all the cards together into a neat pile and held them out for you to take. As your fingers slid over them, the leather of his gloves glided over your skin eliciting goosebumps across your flesh that you wished you could hide better from him.

He dropped his hand. “I should get back to the ship.”

He turned to leave and before you could process what you were doing, you lunged forward and wrapped your fingers around his wrist.

“Or you could stay.”

A long breath escaped the modulator as your name fell from his lips, and you immediately wanted to kick yourself for acting this way. Did you sound as needy as you felt? Weeks now, you’d spent in such close quarters with Mando, working side by side to draw up plans to rebuild the city and renew that which has been lost alongside the very close contact shared with him with the daily burn treatments. With each passing day, you’d found yourself watching the curve of his hips as he sauntered around so confidently with each step; the way his muscles flexed beneath his armor as he hammered reinforced steel into the damaged buildings around town.

Beyond the physical, his gentle demeanor behind the rough and tumble exterior pulled you in with its own gravitational force. Each day, he’d opened up a little more to you, sharing more and more about his life as a bounty hunter and his journey with the Child. You laughed harder than you had in years over the ways in which he recounted the mischievous and naughty behavior of the little green guy. And though you couldn’t see his face, even through the modulator, you could hear the longing in his voice for the Child. Despite having done the right thing in reuniting him with his own kind, you knew that that had torn away a piece of Din’s heart, even if he didn’t say it out right.

“Don’t read too deeply into it,” you chastised before the silence could become even more deafening in the moments since he’d whispered your name. “I’ve got a spare bedroom. You don’t need to sleep cramped up on that cot in the Razor Crest. Gods knows it’s not comfortable.”

He chuckled in response. “Sorry if it didn’t meet your standards, princess. I think it served you just fine, did it not?”

You waved him off. “Yeah, yeah. I’m still working the kinks out of my back from that whole experience. Come on,” you said and inclined your chin down the hall. “Stay, Get a good night’s rest, With the way you’ll be traveling tomorrow, you’ll need it.”

Ultimately, he relented and followed you down the hall.

“My room is the last door on the right at the opposite end of the hallway if you need anything. Fresher is the door on the left. Goodnight, Mando.”

“Din,” he reminded you.

You turn toward your room and walk down the hall, calling over your shoulder. “Goodnight Din.”

•

There was no sleep to be found tonight. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears as you wondered what Din was doing just down the short length of hallway from you.

Was he asleep? Behind the safety of a locked bedroom door, did he remove his helmet and armor and actually let himself rest his body? Or did he still sleep in the same armored, crunched up position, arms folded over chest, masked chin tucked in on itself?

Your eyes burned from lack of sleep and you cursed yourself for letting these thoughts drive you mad. Using your good arm to push yourself into a sitting position, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and pulled a satin robe over your shoulders. Tying it loosely around your waist, you silently opened the door and padded across the stone floor to the kitchen intent on making tea. Maybe after a hot cup, sleep would finally find you. You filled the kettle at the small durasteel sink and before you placed it on the stove, the sound of a faucet turning off set the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

“Mando?” you whisper shouted.

No response.

You took a few steps toward the fresher door and tried again. The floor to ceiling metal doors in your home betrayed no light to escape so there was no way of telling if he was in there.

You hesitantly reached forward to press the button to open the door. You tried one more time. “Din?”

No answer. You cursed yourself for being so stupid. He was probably fast asleep and here you were, shouting at your empty fresher in the middle of the night. For peace of mind, you decide to slap the open button before returning to finish making your tea.

You immediately regretted your decision to do so as the door cracked open and a shaft of light filled the hall.

Your eyes fell to the floor, landing on a pair of tan, bare feet. Feet that move faster than lighting as a pair of strong arms wheeled you around and pressed your face into the wall.

“Close your eyes.” His voice was dark and you felt as though you had no choice but to oblige.

“I’m sorry,” your chest heaved, though constricted against the wall slick with steam from the shower. “I’m sorry, Din. I didn’t see your face. I didn’t—“

His grip relaxed suddenly, his touch becoming gentle; more responsive and less reactive. The rough palms of his hands flattened against where he grabbed you and rubbed the skin beneath, easing the sting of his tight grip from moments earlier. “No,” he breathed and for the first time you felt his breath against your skin. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to react like that, you just—I thought you were asleep.”

“I couldn’t,” you stated.

A few moments of silence and then he answered, “Neither could I.”

His hands slowly slid down the length of your arms, the one on your right much softer than the left, minding the still healing burns. You couldn’t help your body’s natural response to arch into his touch.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” you asked, breath bated already.

You felt his presence draw nearer to your ear before the air reverberated around the sound of his voice. “I couldn’t stop thinking of what you might be wearing to bed”

His hands slipped off of your elbows and onto your waist. He stepped forward so that his body was flush against you and a small gasp escaped your lips as you felt his erection pressed up against the curve of your ass through the towel around his waist. He reached one arm around you and easily pulled the tie securing the robe around your waist loose, exposing your naked body. He tugged at one end until he’d pulled it free from its loops.

Your breath hitched in your throat as the satin material covered your eyes and he secured a knot tightly, but not uncomfortably, behind your head.

“There,” he said softly, turning you around and holding your face in his wide hands.

Hesitantly, you raised your hands to wrap around both of his wrists, leaning into his touch.

After a moment you reached out in front of you, hand landing on his chest. He was soft beneath your fingertips; muscular, but soft.

He dropped his hands from either side of your face as your other hand found his chest and you began to slowly explore the planes of his body.

Your heartbeat hammered in your chest as your hands traveled up the length of his torso, to the wide V of his shoulders. He was tense beneath your touch and you hesitantly withdrew your fingers to hover above his skin. “I can stop,” you said gently.

His hands wrapped around yours, placing them back on his chest. “No,” he said. “It’s ok. I want you to touch me.” As your hands found his neck, you cautiously continued to his jawline, a soft gasp escaping your lips as your fingers splayed against the sharp lines there.

Your thumb brushed lightly against his lips and he shuddered beneath your touch. You’re shocked to find he’s got facial hair lining the top of his lip and a gentle laugh tumbled out of your lips.

And as your fingers came to hold his face in your hands, you drew him down to you so that his forehead was touching yours.

“Mando,” you breathed.

“Call me by my name,” he said, his words gentle, yet firm.

You didn’t hesitate. “Din.”

His lips rained down on yours with an energy so blindingly hot that stars dotted the corners of your limited vision.

You parted your lips to grant him greater access to your mouth and his tongue slid over yours as his hands fisted into your hair.

Your arm snaked around his neck and when his hands cupped your ass beneath the satin of your robe, you pushed off your feet to jump and latch your legs around his waist.

He bore your weight easily, as if you weighed no more than an infant, and pushed you back into the wall. You hissed into his mouth as pain stung your shoulder blades but your whole body was a live wire at the moment and you didn’t care.

He started to walk, carrying you still, as your lips crashed together over and over; devouring one another as if this was the only taste you might ever get.

The hiss of a metal door opening sent a blast of cool air over the two of you, causing your taut nipples to harden even more against the skin of his chest.

He lowered you onto the mattress and the springs creaked under your combined weight. As he crawled over you and straddled your waist, you could feel his erection firm against your thigh.

Blindly, you reached for it with your good arm and as your fingers barely skim the smooth skin of his cock, your hand is pinned above your hand.

“Not yet,” he growled into your ear and your middle turned to liquid.

He released your hand and began trailing his over your body; the tips of his fingers tracing the outline of your calves, then your hips, your stomach, until he’s got both of your nipples pinched between his fingertips.

A cry slipped past your lips as he rolled the peaks of your breasts between his fingers. When he took one into his mouth and began to tease you, flicking the sensitive skin with his tongue and toying at it with his teeth, you bucked your hips up into his erection.

You could feel the slickness between your thighs spreading with each kiss and pass over your body, though you craved more of him. Your pussy throbbed with a need to be touched by him, filled by him.

“Din,” you whimpered. “Please.” And you swore you heard him chuckle deeply in his throat.

He took his hands and placed them on the insides of your knees. Slowly, he pushed them apart and you knew he was gazing into your core.

“Fuck,” he groaned and murmured your name. Your thighs quivered as his fingers slowly dragged up your thighs. Using his thumb, he ran it up the slick length of your folds, pausing at your clit to rub painfully slow circles and you squirmed beneath his touch. “So wet,” he murmured, “so wet for me.”

He adjusted the position of his thumb so that he could continue his torturously slow massage. His name tumbled from your lips as he, at an equally slow pace, thrust his pointer and middle fingers into your center; in and out, in and out, toying with the spongey soft cleft within you that caused your belly to clench in response.

You writhed beneath his touch, needing more, begging for more.

“Are you ready for me?” he purred, and you nodded vigorously.

“You feel ready,” he said, and you could sense the smile on his lips. He dragged his fingers, slick with you, up the length of your folds once more before pulling them away completely and touching them to your lips. He traced the outline of your mouth before gently pushing them in between your lips, “Taste how ready you are for me.”

You sucked and swiveled your tongue around the length of his two long fingers, tasting the tang of yourself on them and wanting more.

He withdrew his fingers and cupped your chin in his large hand, “Good girl.”

You bucked and cried out as he thrust his fingers back into you; once, two more times, and on the third, withdrew his fingers and slammed into you with his cock.

You cried out from the shock and pleasure of it all, gasping for air as his width stretched and filled you. He’d hit hard and fast only to slow down to a torturous rhythm. He slipped a hand under your right leg and lifted it onto his shoulder, holding you there as an anchor point as he continued to plunge himself in and out of you. His name spilled from your lips as with this new leverage, his cock struck your g-spot with every thrust.

“Yes,” his voice was low in his throat. “Say my name, darling. Say my name.”

He increased his speed and returned his thumb to your throbbing clit where he teased circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves there in a tortuously sweet rhythm with the speed of his thrusts.

Stars dotted your limited vision. Your chest rose and fell heavily as you tried to meet him thrust for thrust, but you lost track of the rhythm as you felt everything inside your lower abdomen start to collapse in on itself until the pleasure was blinding and you exploded around him.

He continued to thrust into you as your orgasm drove through your body in waves. After a few more thrusts his own release spilled out into you and he cried out your name; collapsing on top of you and wrapping his arms around your body, both of you slick with sweat and panting.

You stayed there for a minute, joined together physically, chests heaving against one another.

You both groaned as he slid out of you. Slowly, he maneuvered your arms out of the satin robe that you’d both forgotten about. Gently, he used it to clean you up, before discarding it onto the ground where it fell with a soft whoosh of fabric.

He then collapsed onto the bed next to you and minding the burns to your right side, pulled you nearer to him.

He kissed you softly on the lips and then your temple before stretching an arm behind his head.

Your head rested upon his chest and you could feel his heart beating steadily beneath his skin, the dull thump-thump enough of a rhythm to sing you to sleep, but you didn’t want to. Not now. Not after everything with him had just changed.

His hand lazily dragged through your hair, smoothing it back over your shoulders.

“Sleep,” he murmured against your ear. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

The Mandalorian was nowhere to be found come dawn; he’d disappeared without a trace and you were left behind feeling like an absolute idiot for ever having opened yourself up to him.

In the weeks that followed, stray pirates that had barely escaped with their lives began to trickle back in when they’d learned the Mandalorian had disappeared and rumors of the spice and weapons supply you’d still had confiscated reached those still alive and hoping to rebuild the black market.

You’d been able to hold them back, killing them in a shootout in front of your offices.

There was nowhere to safely hide or destroy the spice or weapons. Burying it wouldn’t destroy them, so those hoping to retrieve it could still attain it. Burning them would release a smoke so toxic, it would kill anyone within five clicks of the pyre with the amount they had in tow.

So, there was no choice but to stand and fight. Stand and fight until your deputy was dead and you’d suffered a blast to the shoulder.

With no one left to defend the supply, they’d moved in quickly, raiding your office and burning it down in the aftermath as a warning to leave the market alone. You still don’t know why they didn’t kill you.

Weeks turned to months and they were right back where they’d started; black market and all successfully up and running as your people suffered for it. Heads turned away as you passed through town. You’d let your people down.

And that was why you sat in a bar, alone at two in the morning, going over crime logs and wondering how things had fallen apart so quickly.

So, when that distinct tinkle of metal armor echoed in your ears, the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end.

You froze, heart hammering in your chest so hard you swore it would shatter your rib cage. As each heavy, booted footfall drew nearer, your fingers inched toward the blaster holstered at your side.

When you were confident he’d drawn near enough, you leapt from your seat, kicking it out and whirling around as it knocked his legs out from under him.

The Mandalorian hit the floor with a loud metallic thud and something tumbled from his hands across the floor.

He rolled out of the way as you aimed your blaster at him; knocking it from your hands in the process.

No matter; you slipped the knife from your waistband out and slashed at him. He expertly dodged each swing, but when you raised your leg and kicked him square in the stomach; he flew backwards over a table, shattering it on impact.

You leapt upon him, knife raised, and he knocked it from your hand.

Immediately, you raised your opposite fist and when you moved to bring it down, he caught your hand in his gloved one.

“Don’t punch Beskar,” his modulated voice advised. “You’ll break your hand.”

You sat there, frozen, as he held your fist in his hand. You stared at the black T of his visor, knowing he was staring right back at you. Tears burned your vision, but you would not let them fall for him.

Grunting and cursing, you kicked off of him; dusting off your pants and moving toward the bar.

“Get the hell out of here, Mandalorian.” You spat before returning to your seat at the bar. not minding the destruction you’d just left in your wake.

Tears burned your vision as you tossed back the second shot of liquor you’d left behind. The burn offered no relief from the pain of his return.

Your body stiffened as you heard his armor clanging as he stood and collected himself; but as you braced yourself to hear his steps withdraw, they only drew nearer to you.

He slammed a bag down on the table next to you.

You scoffed, ignoring it. “We don’t want your money, Mandalorian.” As if that could undo the damage he’d caused in his absence.

“Open it,” was all he said.

You swiveled in your seat, eyeing him dangerously before pulling the bag to you. You pulled the strings holding it shut and gasped upon finding the severed head.

Your eyes snapped toward his, or at least where you imagined they were behind his visor. “What is this supposed to—“

He tossed a puck on the table. Your mouth fell shut as a hologram appeared; stunned to see your face in the hazy blue light emanating from it.

You turned back to the Mandalorian, “I don’t understand.”

“He put this hit out on you,” he gestured toward the head. “On the day I left to dispose of the spice and arms with Greef Karga, I was attacked by spice runners. Spice runners who had your face in their hands. I couldn’t let them get to you.”

Blood pounded in your ears. He’d not come back to protect you, to keep you safe. It didn’t stop the damage done in his absence.

“You could’ve made contact,” you bit, venom sharp on your tongue.

Mando used his forearm to push the bag aside and lowered himself down into the seat beside you.

“If I’d pinged you, they could’ve pulled your location. There were already enough trickling back into the city and the hit wasn’t widespread news amongst local crime networks. Gods knows I did my best to hunt down anyone with this puck in hand; and in doing so, it lead me to the leader.”

Your mind whirled; both from the sudden realization of what had actually transpired and the liquor burning a hole in your empty stomach. The fight with Mando had stirred up things both physically and mentally and you suddenly felt sick.

Leather clad fingers brushed your shoulder and you hated how it both set your flesh alight with desire and caused your body to relax. The anger you felt was so raw and biting, but the way your body remembered his gentle touch had your tight shoulders sagging beneath it.

The pad of his thumb circled the thick pink scar tissue from the blaster strike; the shoulder still ached from time to time but overall had healed well.

As his thumb gently probed the tissue, you closed your eyes and let out a shaky breath you’d not realized you’d been holding in.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he said after a long while.

You swallowed the growing lump in your throat. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” You turned your body to look at him straight on. “You lied to me.” Thick, hot tears welled along your lower eyelids. Your voice wavered as you continued, “I felt like a whore, Din. Like a plaything that you used once and got bored of.” Tears leaked over your lashes and you cursed yourself for being so vulnerable in front of him. “Damnit!” you slammed your first down on the table and raked a hand through your hair.

“You could’ve left me at the med bay. You barely knew me. You had no obligation to stay. But you, Din, you took me back to your ship and literally nursed me back to health.” You stood to leave then, not bothering to look at him as you did so as the tears flowed freely down your cheeks. “You were the one to stay behind long after you were clear to leave, yet you stayed. You treated me like I was a fucking royal and then left me like a womp rat stuck in a trap that you couldn’t bare to put out if it’s misery.”

As you reached the exit door, a leather clad hand wrapped around your wrist and an unfamiliar hiss caused the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up. You stood there for a moment, frozen, unsure of what to do.

“What are you doing?” you choked out, refusing to turn around.

“I don’t know what I could say,” his voice was smooth, unmodulated. “That this gesture can’t prove.”

His grip tightend around your wrist, not painfully, desperately.

You closed your eyes and bit your quivering lip. He said your name and it came out of his lips a plea.

Turning around, you didn’t open your eyes. Instead, you loosed yourself from his grip and felt for his other hand which clutched his helmet.

You circled your fingers around the lip of the opening and took it from him, surprised he allowed you to take it from his hand. With your other one, you felt up the breast plate of his armor until you reached the sharp line of his jaw, rough with a few days worth of stubble.

Raising the helmet, you used both hands to lower it down over his face until it hissed and clicked back into place. Only then did you open your eyes, finding them reflected back at you in the inky black of his visor.

“I would never ask you to forsake your Creed, Mando, surely you must understand that.”

He took a daring step toward you, inclining his head as he did so. “That’s not my name,”

“Din,” you breathed, sighing his name out. “Surely you know I’d never ask you to do that.”

His leather clad fingers slipped between yours. “I couldn’t risk them hurting you, I’ve only just found you.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips for the first time since he’d stepped foot inside the tavern. “That’s a bit romantic for a Mandalorian, don’t you think?”

You felt the cool steel of his Beskar vambrace through the fabric of his shirt as he drew you near to his body for an embrace.

“I keep finding ways in which I’m not a normal Mandalorian.”

“Good,” you responded as you wrapped your arms around his pauldrons. squeezing and hoping he felt the warmth in your embrace. “I’ve never liked normal.”

[mysticwolfshadows]

Taken - Zutara - Part 49

First / Previous / Next / Masterpost

They make it to the Fire Nation with very little fanfare. It was shockingly easy, given how difficult it had been to get past the barricade when they went to Roku's temple. But there they were, landing harmlessly in a cave on one of the outer islands.

While Sokka lamented about how this was their life now, hopping from cave to cave, until the invasion began.

Zuko rolled his eyes, and shared a look with Katara and Suki. One of them had to talk sense into Sokka.

"We could try finding some new clothes?" Suki suggested, glancing at Katara.

"Zuko and I know how to blend in with the Fire Nation."

Aang was quick to jump in. "Yeah! Blending in is better than hiding out. Wouldn't having Fire Nation disguises be just as safe as hiding in a cave?"

"Plus, we can get real food out there." Toph punches a wall, making cave hoppers jump out, Momo diving after them. "Unless you'd rather eat cave hoppers in the dirt."

Sokka purses his lips, looking at Zuko as his last hope.

Zuko rose a brow, arms crossed. "We need to conserve as much of our supplies as we can. If we keep using our reserves when we don't have to, we'll run out before we reach the Black Cliffs."

Finally, Sokka caved. "Fiiiine."

They start by finding the nearest farm. There was a series of clothes lines, which they studied carefully for a moment. Aang wondered about the ethics of stealing for a moment, before Katara rushed forwards to snag a silk robe. Suki and Toph weren't far behind, and the boys soon followed.

They returned to the cave to get changed, Toph putting up walls to give them some semblance of privacy, while Sokka and Zuko scrounged together a wig for Aang to wear to hide his tattoos.

"What about your scar?" Aang whinged, as they tied the headband(?) around the wig to help keep it in place. "It's distinctive!"

"Burn scars are common in the Fire Nation," Katara said, as she stepped out. "While they aren't usually on the face, you'll probably see a lot of them, especially in outer islands with fewer resources and physicians like this one."

Zuko turned to say... He couldn't remember. As soon as his eyes landed on Katara, his mouth went dry and his head empty. She looked...

"You look great!" Aang said, beaming.

"Thanks, Aang," she said, moving to get a look at their handy work. "It looks good. Should hold for a day." She glanced at Zuko, and her own smile tugged at her lips. "You look nice."

He swallowed. "You... You too."

Over Katara's shoulder, Zuko could see Sokka making a gagging motion, as Aang watched on in confusion.

"So!" Toph called, as she stepped out of the barrier with Suki. "Where are we going for lunch?"

Heading into town, Katara and Zuko took lead, pointing out different kinds of shops. Katara hadn't had much time to explore the city when she'd been in the city before, but the signage was enough for her to give recommendations. Zuko was more straight forward with his answers, and helping steer them away from the more niche establishments.

Katara was so excited to be eating fresh and authentic Fire Nation cuisine again, she barely noticed Aang wondering off. She made sure to order something more mild for the others, giving a smile to the frowning waiteress.

"We just moved from the colonies," Katara explained, before gesturing to Zuko and herself. "We spent a good amount of our childhood her on the islands, though. We've missed it. If you could hold the spice on theirs, but maybe add a little to ours...?"

The waitress hummed, but made a note on her pad. Then she was off, and Katara felt herself begining to relax. The smells of the Fire Nation filled her. The warm ocean spray and the spices of cooking food. The feel of Agni on her skin, filling her with a pleasant warmth she hadn't felt in so long...

They ate in comfort, giving simple conversation and enjoying the food. She listened to other patrons, hearing about how lucky they were that the draft hadn't reached their island yet. Apparently, in the wake of Prince Zuko's 'death', the draft had been instated but not entirely enforced on outer islands. More prominent families, like Mai's, were voluntarily enlisting their sons as 'officers'. There was speculation, with only Azula as heir and there having never been a female Fire Lord, that the Fire Princess would need to marry, and her spouse become Fire Lord in her stead. Others thought that Azula would be skipped over, with Ozai being fairly young for a Fire Lord, and that her first son would become the true heir instead. Of course, Katara knew that Ozai would never pass on his throne willingly, much as Sozin and Azulon had before him, and that Azula would never let herself be forced to marry, much less be skipped over in succession.

As they were wrapping up their lunch that they heard about the local academy. A pair of mothers, talking about how the headmaster was cracking down on students behavior, as they passed by to their table. One was worried, as the school was so strict already, and her daughter On Ji was such a sweet and gentle girl, who had such a creative mind, and was worried that innovative thinking might get her in trouble. The other woman wondered if perhaps it was a good thing for her own son, Hide. He was becoming rather unruly and disrespectful at home, with his father gone on the warfront. Perhaps the headmaster's stricter rules would bring Hide into line.

A faint memory, of a young Zuko in a boys uniform, more militaristic than academic, tickled the back of her mind. But the FIre Nation was know for their similarities in uniforms. In the military, the main difference between a foot soldier and a captain was the more angled and spiked shoulders, with more gold accents. And Aang...

"Zuko," Katara whispered, as they were walking back to the cave. He blinked at her, inclining his head to show she had his full attention. "Do you remember what Fire Nation school uniforms look like? I only saw the Royal Fire Academy uniforms, but..."

For a moment, Zuko blinked. Then, his brow scrunched, and he cursed so venomously under his breath that a lick of flame was spat from his lips. Reaching out, he grasped her elbow, squeezing it.

"Make sure the others know we might have to run," he said, turning to look back down the road towards town. "I'll find him and bring him back. If his cover is blown, we'll need to leave immediately."

"Be careful," she said, as he let go. They shared a look, the air tense around them, before turning away from each other and rushing off.

First / Previous / Next / Masterpost

[bookish-bogwitch]

Third Floor Thursday

Thank you for folks who tagged me yesterday. I'm behind on reading WIPpets but excited to catch up.

Instead of WIP Wednesday, I'm observing [Cloisters] Third Floor Thursday and serving up some Basil Pitch's Diary bonus content. Below the cut for mega spoilers for BPD chapter 9 and mild spice.

Sure, Baz did plenty of damage to himself and Simon in chapter 9, but what about the trail of male wreckage he left at the gay bar? What about all those non-Simons who failed to take Baz's mind of his troubles? You might be wondering...

Rejects of Skin Horse: Where Are They Now?

That night was only Lee’s second time out after top surgery. He loved how his new clothes fit him until Baz’s insult brought the old imposter syndrome rushing back. He almost left the club. But Lee’s night turned around when he met a cute guy who laughed at Lee’s jokes, asked Lee to give him stubble rash, and ate Lee out in the toilets. (It was Niall.) 

Mustached Blond with the Wedding Band Tan had just moved into his own flat after a ten-year marriage to his best friend. He’d been anguished over “breaking up his family over nothing”--thanks for that, Blond’s mum--but the kids were blossoming with happier parents. His ex had cheerled his coming out and savaged anyone who asked how Blond could be gay when he’d never been with a man. 

At Skin Horse Blond had assumed the tall, gorgeous man in the embroidered shirt was in his mid twenties--he was so poised--and more experienced than Blond, because everyone was. After Baz’s rejection, City Boy danced with Blond and slipped him the tongue. That first queer kiss did so little for Blond that he wondered if his mother was right and almost broke down right there. But then The Husbands took Blond home, found his prostate, and let him sleep in the middle.

City Boy was from the future, on a mission to terminate the boy who would one day lead the uprising against gay cyborgs like City Boy. He didn’t expect to find his target at Skin Horse, but everybody needs a night off.

As for Reg and Mike? Their story begins in If You Just Smile by @facewithoutheart (680, T). ____

Tagging only people I know have read this chapter ( <3 you btw):

@ivelovedhimthroughworse @thewholelemon @cutestkilla @monbons @whogaveyoupermission

@you-remind-me-of-the-babe @goblindad-emoshit @rimeswithpurple @emeryhall @comesitintheclover

@mooncello

[coffeebrownn]

i might recompile my winterfield headcanons that i've written in twitter but here's a new one (food edition(??)):

ethan is pescatarian, before re7 he eats chicken but never other types of meat, chris manages to reintroduce him to eat chicken again for his military training but ethan became sick.

because of ethan's new diet, ethan went in and tried different types of fish for variety, but at the end he sticks to his favorite week night fish meat is the typical salmon or tilapia, for him grouper fish is the best for soup meals

ethan does't eat raw sashimi or any raw meat due to re7 incident.

ethan doesn't like shellfish too much due to the texture, some are okay like abalone.

chris prefer seasoning that punch your taste buds, something very strong like Garam Masala, Cajun, Shacha sauce (Chinese BBQ), while ethan preferences is pretty mild, so around the circle of Herbes de Provence.

i'm not saying that ethan can't handle the spices or the heat, he just prefer simpler taste and the natural taste of the main ingredient (salmon, etc).

acidity for food, like lemon and vinegar are exceptions, ethan describes it "brings the whole dish back alive!"

from my previous headcanon, i've mentioned how chris is very big into safety (guns, cars, etc), this includes him being cautious with picking meat suppliers and checking labels on where they got their meat from ((again, it's because of the RPD incident, even though he is not there to experience it singlehandedly, he saw his close ones living in that situation, same thing with his parents dying due to a car incident)) it's more so long term over short term, sure he'll try an exotic meat like squirrel/snake from a trusted restaurant/supplier but he's not going to eat that meat everyday

chris' priority isn't about enviromental sustainability (sadly), really just for health wise for him and his close ones (IF they ask, ethan and rebecca agreed, claire doesn't care, jill and leon is indifferent with these sets of informations)

as for chris, he eats whatever meat, he prefers lean meat due to his training, so chicken is very important for him. other meat such as beef and pork is more so a treat for chris. he WILL try exotic meat.

but again, I think both are okay eating the same meal over and over again, and genuinely not picky, Chris doesn't pay too much attention if the meal that he'd ate is the same with the previous meal, he only cares of it's healthy or not (claire and him grew up eating leftovers after leftovers, claire sometimes complained about it). Ethan has a different reason, i think of him to have phases cater around his interest and that phases last in 6-8 month or so.

most of the main dish were picked by ethan, most of the time it's made using dutch oven, so something along the lines of cassrole or stews were often dinner meals for them. with a side of light salad or carbs like stale bread.

Chris isn't the "health police", he's really just a very cautious man. OHH the irony since he smokes the most in the group.

He still sneaks in some chocolate and sweet treats too.. ethan finds it adorable to see that chris is a sweet tooth like him 😭 soemtimes ethan will ask chris if they can get ice cream and you can see the man struggling to say no 🥺

chris sometimes substitue his cigarette with licorice lozenges. he doesn't like patches, but he will take one if he's in a very long flight.

chris HAS to sleep in plane flights, if not he'll grew restless due to him not smoking. he'll wake up to eat or take a piss and that's it.

[marthawrites]

The Arbor and the Dragon: Chapter 4, Moonlight

Aemond Targaryen x Redwyne fem reader

Word count: 6.8k+

About: Tension around the Red Keep grows. Rumors begin spreading about yours and Aemond's time spent together. Jane, your best friend and lady-in-waiting, reminds you of your favorite summer festival back home. You write Aemond a letter in secret and request his company at the beach. Emotions are high and promises are made.

Includes: Tension, some mild angst, hurt, comfort, and fluff. Reader (named Emeline) has body image issues due to a slight deformity.

Note: Hello lovely reader! I hope I haven't lost you on this story ♥ I deeply apologize for keeping you waiting for literal months for this chapter. The beach scene in this chapter has been living in my heart and mind for a solid month or even two! I've been greedy with it, and it's finally time to share it. It's inspired by a cut-scene in a video game and if you get the reference please let me know because I will fall in love! As always, I hope that you enjoy it! I plan on having chapter 5 ready to share much sooner than this one was (3 flippin mo rofl) ♥

Catch up on earlier chapters with the series masterlist

-

"Are you taking Lady Redwyne to the Sept this morning?" Alicent asked her son as he sat across the table from her. On any other occasion the Queen Mother's question could be received as harmless. A simple inquiry. Naught more than curiosity for her soon to be daughter-in-law's goodness. 

Aemond knew his mother better. His fork clinked on the silver plate as he dragged a chunk of sausage through syrup. A childhood favorite. Only his mother would indulge him in such a treat if she meant to soften him up.

Or, perhaps, she merely missed her son. They'd hardly seen each other as of late.

The curtains of her room were drawn open, as were the windows, and summer's morning breeze rolled over King's Landing from the ocean. "Yes, mother, I've already said that," Aemond answered as he ate the bite from his fork. No one else joined them for the day's breaking fast; not even a servant. Fruit, still warm bread, and bacon accompanied the spiced sausage on polished platters. The small table lent them a feeling of intimacy even their seclusion couldn't. "Would you care to join us?"

Alicent too dragged a bite of sausage through syrup; the source of Aemond's guilty pleasure. "Not this time, no," she answered around a mouthful. If she were dining with anyone else she wouldn't respond in such a way, but with her son she paid it no mind.

Aemond hummed thoughtfully beneath his breath and continued eating. Tension slowly knotted between his shoulders at the heavy silence.

"I worry about you and Lady Redwyne, Aemond.” There it was. The reason for their unspecified meeting. The softness of her lovely eyes, so unlike the rare hue of her son’s, betrayed the practiced hardness of her mouth. With a tilt of her head she regarded him a little closer in a way only a mother could. 

Truthfully, the young prince found little pleasure in eating and ate almost solely for the purpose of nourishment. Leave it to his own mother to serve him one of the few things he actually enjoyed only to bring up this topic. Again. “We are to wed in less than a week. What is there to worry about?” He asked, appetite gone.

“You know of what I speak,” she answered curtly, eyes fluttering in such a way Aemond knew she might as well have rolled them. “Now is not the time to fall behind on your duties. You two spend countless hours together. Alone, too, no doubt. On dragon back to who knows where, unchecked around the city, amidst the dragon pit. I’ve said it multiple times: you two are not to be alone together.”

“She is a respite from the daily burden of princeliness and unwavering duties,” he replied, features defensive. Alicent read the subtle shift of his neck and shoulders as if he'd turned the table over in a rush of rage.

“It is unbecoming of you and Lady Redwyne to be practicing what you’re doing. Suspicion of your activities is high. We – I – cannot allow a foreign girl to put you so under her spell that you forget about this war. Depravity doesn’t look good on you. Nor does it serve any sort of purpose.” Heat bloomed across the tops of Alicent’s ears. The grip she had on her silverware made her knuckles turn white. Her jaw jutted authoritatively.

Aemond’s jaw clenched. He loved his mother. He respected his mother. The things he wanted to say would poison both of those things. Instead, he glared across at her and a breath chuffed from his nose.

“The Sept will do you both good today. Ser Arryk will accompany you. Stay and pray as long as you and Lady Redwyne both require. I’m sure it is needed more than I know.” Her voice was even again. Stern.

The prince stood, eye never leaving his mother. “It is good to know you pay heed to my daily activities while actively disregarding Aegon’s lechery and debauchery. If the tables were turned, would you still?” In long strides he stepped to the door. Turning his head over his shoulder he saw her attention following him. “Now that I see where your priorities lie this morning–” he paused with a scoff, “–you might be lightened to know Lady Redwyne is much more than her father's fleet to me, now. You needn't worry over it any longer. Aegon will have it.” He exited, closing the door with deliberate finality.

Duty. Love. Aemond Targaryen treaded a fine line.

-

Your personal guardsman, Louis, practically vibrated out of his armor in protest of being denied accompanying you with Aemond to the Sept. Growing up with a strict father garnered you the hard learned skill of little mice feet. Subtly was one of your stronger suits, and even Louis, despite your complete trust in him and his skill as a well-trained guardsman, couldn't keep up with you at all times. And, thus, you and Aemond were able to sneak away unbothered on more than one occasion. 

And today? Well, Louis simply had to listen to your hard, and unwavering, no. Your father could punish you for it later for all you cared. Time with your soon to be husband was worth it.

Excitement rushed up and down your spine as you saw Aemond make his way to you at the agreed location. You bounced on the balls of your feet eagerly. Clasping your House's grape cluster signet at the center of your mantle accented the low neckline of your dress; perhaps the lowest cut you'd worn in the prince's company. It was sleeveless in the fashion of your home too, and the gossamer cloak offered you a shield of modesty. 

You saw a tightening of Aemond's jaw, as well as a stiffness in his back and shoulders, which immediately dampened your excitement. Had you done something wrong? Did he disapprove of your lovely summer gown? Perhaps it was the fashion of your braid – would it offend the other ladies in court with its, potentially, outdated style? Your mouth dried before you even opened it to speak. 

He stood in front of you and offered a formal bow, ending with a chaste kiss to the top of your hand. "Good morning, my Lady Redwyne. I don't believe you've officially met Ser Arryk. As per my mother's request, he will be joining us today in journey to the Sept." He spoke evenly. Practiced and courtly. The darkened pupil at the center of his eye, and the way it lingered on the opened expanse of your chest, however, spoke much more passionately.

Your gaze flickered between both men, Ser Arryk standing a few paces back for privacy, and you tried to control your breath. "He must be quite a warrior to be the one protecting you, my prince," you said smoothly before smiling at the knight. 

He simply nodded and bowed his head in a show of respect.

"Hm," Aemond hummed shortly. He hadn't loosened at all yet, and if anything he looked even more tense. His hand at the small of your back splayed wider than you'd felt it before, and his fingers curling into your waist gripped firmly.

Oh. Was this… jealousy? Something primal in the ancient part of his brain that made him need to show you as his? Most of your time spent together had been alone: now, another layer to the Targaryen prince to witness.

The carriage ride was silent. Aemond's hand, warm and wide and possessive, stayed glued to the top of your thigh the whole way.

It was only at the great doors of the Sept that Ser Arryk finally spoke. "Pray in peace, my prince. I will be standing guard here at the door. If you need me, you know where I'll be," he bowed politely and turned forward once again, eyes keen and observant on the bustle of the square ahead.

While Aemond acknowledged Arryk, he barely gave the other man more than a simple "hmm," in reply. 

"What's the matter, my prince?" Inside, your voice seemed too loud for the incense laden air. There must have been hundreds of candles lit and their smoke made the air heavier than it already was.

Beautiful high windows of stained glass dominated the walls, and geometrical patterns of the overhead framework added to the ornate sanctuary. Outside the sun shone brightly, and when the sky’s fluffy clouds moved away from in front of it, rainbows of light reflected on various swaths of floor, wall, and statue alike. While inspired by religion, you’d never been heavily religious. Here, now, however, you realized why so many people lead a holy life.

Civilians gathered in intimate groups for prayer around the varying altars, and the Sept’s holy brothers and holy sisters wandered throughout the place. One thing you noticed was how many averted their gaze from Aemond. Some even turned on their heel in the opposite direction to, seemingly, avoid getting close to him. Despite his lineage, even the holy brothers and holy sisters regarded him with little formality.

Aemond One-Eye. The cruel prince. Black hearted. Kinslayer. Here, in this holiest of places, there was hardly anything more accursed than a kinslayer. And you, the fair foreign girl from far away in the Reach, his betrothed. The smallfolk knew little of you and likely trusted you less. Being on the arm of the Targaryen Prince brought more side-eyes than respectful greetings. 

Tucked away inside the Red Keep with your wedding plans, lady’s gossip, and noble mingling sometimes made it easy to forget that a war was simmering. 

Aemond’s stiff shoulders and silence had spread to you.

What a strange turn of morning. In all your time spent together it had never been quite like this. Even your first meeting didn’t carry the same tension that hung in the air between you now. Before you knew it, you found yourself fiddling with the silken material of your dress. A nervous habit you had as long as you could remember.

Finally, while standing in front of the Father, Aemond turned to you and said, “normally I come here with mother, Aegon, and Helaena.” A long breath exhaled from his nose as he tipped the flickering flame of a candle to the wick of another, lighting it. “Mother summoned me to join her alone in breaking fast. I thought it kind, at first. Sweet even,” he chuffed, a disapproving tug pulling down one side of his mouth. “You are spoiling me with yours so I forget it’s not freely given. How silly of me.” His single lilac eye rested on your doe-brown gaze, your lovely dark pools looking up at him softly, questioningly. Attentively. 

You extended your hand out to his and held it gently. “Aemond…,” you started, peering up at him with all the gentleness you could muster. “I’m sure your mother didn’t mean to come across the way she did.” You squeezed and stepped closer into him, uncaring of how it might look to any nosey onlookers. In your experience even the most religious folks could be the most nosey. In the high morning light, with rainbows illuminating the cloud of heady smoke, the lines of your bodies meshed into one as you kissed the prince’s cheek. 

A smile graced his features and it was the first you’d seen all day. “Let us pray to the Father. May he judge those who seek him for strength and wisdom. May they be wise enough to see what their judgment clouds.”

Kneeling, then, you finally released his hand and began praying in silence. He knelt beside you, too, and you’d be lying if you said prayer had your full attention. Aemond’s lips moved silently and you wondered what he might be praying – they were so handsome, his lips, and you desperately wanted to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him to blushing pinks right here in the middle of the Sept. Each time you peered across at him beneath the protection of your eyelashes you had to force yourself to close your eyes and focus. With his hands clasped, head bowed, and eye closed, he looked ethereal. He was ethereal. They said Targaryens were closer to Gods than men, and the more time you spent with your betrothed, as well as his siblings, the more you came to realize it. Silvery, and pale, with features not quite like anyone else, they truly were lovely and unique. Perhaps one day Aemond would give you one of your own. A tiny white haired dragon with ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes. You smiled in mid-prayer and allowed your mind to wander. When it came time to visit the Maiden’s altar, you could ask for her forgiveness in regard to the impure thoughts that ran rampant in your mind. 

After visiting and praying at the altars for the Mother, Warrior, Smith, Maiden, Crone, and Stranger, and after many stolen touches and lingering gazes, you two finally exited the Sept with Arryk close behind. The carriage ride back was lighter than the first. You crossed a leg over the other so it pointed in Aemond’s direction, and behind the little shield of your knee his larger palm rested atop yours.

Upon returning to the Red Keep Aemond was almost immediately swept away by a list of duties and “royal chores” – whatever that meant – that he’d fallen behind on since spending more time with you in the Sept than was expected. You were beginning to read him better and better all the time. While others might not take note of it (sternness and practiced neutrality a theme for the young prince) you saw the bristle of annoyance along his edges as Otto took him away. You barely had time to say goodbye. Walking alongside his grandfather, Aemond turned his head over his shoulder one last time and offered you a small, barely there smile and tilt of his head. Your own lips pressed into a restrained grin as you offered a wave just as small. You hoped he’d at least be able to have dinner with you tonight. Until then, there were many wedding plans and gossip for you to busy yourself with. 

During the evening’s meal you were distracted and hungry. “If you could summon him by staring at the door he’d already be here, my lady,” Jane whispered to you sympathetically. “Let’s try to at least enjoy the wine, yes?" She served herself a plate and helped you with yours. "Ah… it reminds me of back home. We’d be getting ready for the dance of the moonlight jellies! It’s tomorrow night! I hate to miss it. This will be the first one I’ve ever missed.” Her expression changed from melancholy, to excitement, to pouting, and you followed right along with her. She tried to soften her pout with a little smile.

“Ah! Gods we would be, huh? Oh, I can’t believe it. This will be the first one I’ve ever missed too. Such a pity. It’s always been my favorite event of the summers.” Your gaze went distant for a moment, fingertip gently circling the rim of your goblet. So far there definitely hadn’t been any sign of Aemond. Nor Aegon or Otto for that matter. Alicent and your father were busy chatting away – assumedly about more wedding plans – and Helaena patiently ate and helped feed her children in turn. There were other noble ladies and men around the table as there were most nights. You couldn’t keep up with all the conversation around, and frankly didn’t care to, because you kept watching the main entrance dreamily as if Aemond would stroll through it at any moment. Jane always knew how to pull you out of your little daydreams. “I almost wish you hadn’t reminded me because now I’m sad,” you laughed.

“Not my intention!” She giggled despite the defensiveness of her tone. “I think it’s lovely your wedding will be so close to the dance. Perhaps they’ll allow us a bonfire in celebration too.”

“Perhaps! Though… I do admit… – ” you dropped your voice low and leaned closer to Jane so no one else might hear what you said “ – I don’t know how long after the vows I’ll be able to stay. The bedding ceremony follows soon after, yes?”

Jane squealed. “You unholy woman!”

You two broke off into fits of giggles and entirely unladylike banter. You did your very best to stay hushed, however, not wanting just anyone to hear the things you were saying about your betrothed. In fact, such talk was more suited for bedchambers and private groups – not the middle of dinner. You both got a few side eyes and raised eyebrows. Even your father gave you the look on two separate occasions. Whoops. Maybe the wine was affecting you more than you realized. Finishing the remainder of your food, you stood and walked to give your father’s cheek a goodnight kiss.

“Take some water and drink it before you fall asleep! You little wildling,” he called after you.

There was already a full pitcher of water in your bedchamber, but that didn’t stop Jane from grabbing an extra just in case.

By now you were both learning the halls of the Red Keep. The main hallways, that is. There was much more to the sprawling castle than you knew, and to say it was intimidating and overwhelming was an understatement. Thankfully – by the God's small graces – its main flow was easy enough to learn and navigate.

“When the castle was complete under King Maegor’s rule, he had all the builders executed to ensure only the Targaryen’s knew its hidden passages and secrets,” Aemond had told you during one of your earlier explorations of the castle. You hadn’t a reason to doubt him. But, even if you did, you knew in your bones he spoke the truth.

How different he was than any boy you knew from home. A true Targaryen from the blood of Old Valyria. You, naught but a sweet, delicate grape, held inside the claw of a mighty beast; how easily he could skin you whole. His steady eye observed you, studied you; the tips of his roughened fingers gingerly accepting your more forward affections so those tips might learn the utter softness of your flesh.

Inside your room you readied for sleep. "A bonfire on the beach in honor of the Arbor's celebration being prepared as we speak…," you spoke dreamily, eyes a little distant as you envisioned Aemond experiencing it for the first time.

Jane's delicate fingers loosened your day's braid before brushing any tangles out. "Surely you know the rumors of the prince…," she said, baiting you, arching a brow at you through the mirror.

"There's quite a few. You'll have to be more specific," you replied similarly.

"He doesn't dance! At all. The only dancing he's done is in the sky on his dragon. Or dancing with foes in the training yard and skirmishes." 

You knew of these rumors, of course. "I suppose he'll need some practice before the wedding then, yes?"

Your best friend and lady-in-waiting smirked and rolled her eyes. "And I suppose you think you'll be the one to teach the tall lanky prince how to dance on a whim?"

"He's not lanky!" 

You both laughed and continued the banter until you were dressed comfortably for bed. She bid you a goodnight and kiss on the forehead before leaving to retire to her own chamber. Sleep came easily that night. Sweet wine coated your palate and you dreamt of embers and jellyfish.

-

The sun barely lightened the sky when you woke. Perfect, you thought to yourself as you stretched with a wide yawn. Excitement pulled at your belly and before you knew it your bare feet padded across the chilly stone floor to your desk. You struck your candle to flame, dipped a quill into its inkpot, and began writing a letter to your soon to be husband. He'd written you many little letters since your arrival, and you'd yet to have one delivered to his room. Before losing inspiration, you wrote,

"My dearest Aemond,

Meet me down at the beach tonight. With it still being high summer the sun doesn't set until late. Please. You won't want to miss this.

Your Lady Redwyne"

Still in your nightgown with only a flimsy robe covering yourself, you cracked the door open and peered outside. Grinning, you hissed a careful whisper, "Louis! Psst, hey Lou!" 

He perked up after the second call of his name. "My Lady? What is it? Is everything okay?" His armor clinked as he strode over to you quickly, kind eyes looking over you for any sign of distress. As soon as he saw your excited glimmer, however, his shoulders softened. "You're perky this morning."

"Take this to Prince Aemond! Please. Before he leaves his chamber for the day. It's important, hurry!" You put the carefully folded letter in his hand and shooed him off. "Thank you," you added before closing and latching the door again, trying to calm the excited wave of butterfly wings in your belly.

Tonight would be magical.

You dressed, braided your hair, donned some of your favorite gold jewelry, and applied perfume to the insides of your wrists, behind each ear, and at the center of your breast. You prayed for the hours to pass quickly as you applied makeup. Accentuating your features always made you feel pretty. There was an art to it too, you realized some years ago, in balancing hues and pigments to your natural skin without looking akin to someone from the theater. Like everything, it took practice. And you were happy with how your skills had grown. With one final tuck of hair here, and twist of hair there, you departed your bedchamber with confidence in your stride.

Breakfast. Going over more wedding plans. Tea and lunch with fellow ladies of the court. A break amidst the gardens. Supper. All without Aemond. The hours flew by and yet the day itself dragged. As soon as you were finished you made a sneaky escape to your horse in the stable. Before your father, or Louis, or even Jane knew what you were up to, you were off. 

Please let Aemond make it. Please let Aemond make it. Please let Aemond make it, you said like a mantra to yourself in time with your horse’s pace. The mare wasn't easily spooked and quite prone to biting. It took you at least the first three days to gain her trust, and at least another two to make it so you could saddle and ride her without the assistance of a stable boy who’d been around her nearly his whole life. You pulled all the tricks: oats, apples, even carrots. Finally, after many suspicious huffing fits, the mean she-beasty warmed up to you. Now, she greeted you with happy whinnies and curious snufflings – she’d know if you came without a peace treaty and you weren’t about to try your luck with that yet.

The sun was perhaps two hours from setting when you made it down to the beach to begin collecting wood for a fire. The fresh salty air was warm and you were glad to have worn a thin dress with billowing accents. Waves continuously lapped at the shore and before too long you found yourself in a partial trance. Thoughts in your mind slowed and quieted, and for a moment the sand almost looked like the golden sand of which you were born to.

"My Lady Redwyne," Aemond's soft voice called from behind you. At least he had the decency to let his presence be known before merely arriving out of thin air like he usually did with you. He'd ditched his normal tunic and only wore his thin linen undershirt; its laces only partially tied to expose a tantalizing swath of his collar and chest. Leather in the summer heat could be unbearable and you were glad to see him in less clothing -- for wholly innocent and wholly impure reasons alike. "You picked a fine horse for the ride down here. I trust you have your dagger too?" He asked, eyeing you over approvingly and questioningly.

A smile curled up from your mouth and went right to your eyes. How you missed him. With his hair rippling in the wind, and his shirt giving sight to parts of himself that you'd yet to see, and the tiny pucker of his mischievous lips, a pang rang in your heart. How did you go so long without knowing him? Without being his betrothed? "Of course. I've not gone a single place without it since you gifted it to me in your secret place."

The space between you was closed by his long careful strides in the sand, and he wordlessly took the pile of driftwood from your arms. "There's my good girl. Where would you like these?"

Blushing, you pointed to the stack you'd been working on and said, "just there."

"What is it you're so excited to show me?" He asked once you both gently discarded the driftwood into the pile.

You began stacking it neatly, in the way your father taught you, to make a successful fire. "Every year, when the summers extend beyond one year, the Arbor has a celebration known as 'the dance of the moonlight jellies'," you said fondly, looking over to him with distant, happy eyes. "The final preparations would be happening now. It's always been my favorite celebration, and this is the first one I've ever missed."

Aemond listened curiously as he always did whenever you talked about things from home -- whether it be stories and myths, lore, architecture, or anything else. "Tell me about it, my Lady."

A wistful sigh escaped your lungs. "On the western part of the island, out into the Sunset Sea, there is a breed of jellyfish who migrate along our coastline. We build bonfires along the beach and out on the docks as far as we can. These jellies are special because they glow," you smiled, movements continuing on muscle memory as you struck a fire to life. "They make the water look as if a hundred thousand fires were beneath the surface. Everyone from the highest houses down to the most rugged Flowers join together for the night. We sing, and dance, and drink spiced wine." By now your own little fire was coming more and more to life. "All while they slowly drift along with the ocean's current." By the end of the explanation you were sitting and beginning to work your shoes off your feet.

All the while, Aemond listened and imagined such a thing even happening. There was nothing like that around here. He never journeyed far from home for too long either, for his princely and second son's duties kept him tied down to King's Landing -- more specifically, the court of the Red Keep -- with a short leash. The more he learned from you, the more he realized he truly knew nothing of the Arbor. "Everyone? The nobles and the bastards?"

"Yes, my prince. All is cast aside for the night. It is truly that important to the people and tradition."

Golden sun washed over the young prince as he looked out to the ocean. Pensive. A few moments of silence followed as you both quietly observed the continuous lap of waves. When he turned his attention back to you his pupil was so small from the sun that the lilac of his iris was all you could see. "I would fly you there tonight if things were different in our world, now."

Guilt rushed to your throat. "Oh, Aemond, no. That is not what I meant by any of this," you said with meaning as you found yourself straddling over his lap with his lovely sharp face between your hands. "I am sad to miss it, yes, of course. But that is why I'm here now. And that is why I wanted you to join me here and now too, so I could share this special time with you." You gently pressed your forehead to his, the tip of your nose fitting against his bridge. A soft smile pulled on your lips when his mouth brushed yours in a whispering kiss.

Lips led to tongues, and soon to teeth, and Aemond's hands traced along your hips and waist all the while. Goosebumps tickled your skin despite the warmth of the air and fire. The press of his hands, the weight of them, had you panting against his mouth. Leaning back, he grinned slyly. "Let us stop before we cannot." He gave your hip a firm squeeze before slowly, slowly, letting go of you against him.

"I want so badly to be your wife...," you whispered sincerely. "Before, though, there is one more thing I need to share with you." Heat crept into your face, yet this blush had nothing to do with the coil of arousal in your belly and all to do with the humiliation in which you were going to show your soon to be husband.

Confusion and worry instantly shifted his features. "What is it, sweetling?"

Emotion welled in your eyes and it took a great deal of strength to not let tears fall from your clumpy eyelashes. "Promise you won't change your mind about me either?"

He ran a thumb across your freckled cheek. Your sweet doe-brown eyes ripped at his heart. "I promise."

You offered a soft sad smile before carefully moving from atop his lap. Shifting, you instead sat between his legs with your own outstretched before both of you. You pulled your legs up at the knee so your feet were flat and fully exposed for both of your visions. On each foot, the second and third toe were fully fused together, and a small webbing of skin connected the base of all your toes together. Without looking over your shoulder to Aemond, you explained, "it is a bad omen." As if he wasn't connecting the dots you pointed out your deformity. "Akin to your eye it is a cloak of shame for me. In our mythos it is said it only happens to those who had a twin in the womb... but ended up killing the twin. It is said we are cursed, for we are bloodthirsty like sharks. Only the strongest survive. So we are born with these to let everyone know we are capable of kinslaying as only babes."

Aemond pushed his fingers against the side of your jaw so you were forced to look back at him. His face was somehow soft and stern alike. "Then you are my bloodthirsty little babe. Dragons do not share their egg with another dragon. If the mythos is true, then you are the strongest. And it was you who was born for a reason." He kissed you again, fiercer, this time, and the salt of your tears clung to his tongue.

The sun's golden rays disappeared beyond the curve of the ocean and a spill of reds, oranges, and pinks filled the sky instead. "Dance with me, Aemond. I don't care if you don't know how to. No one is around to see. It can be another one of our secrets," you forced a tiny laugh through the emotion which swelled your throat. You smiled, genuine, and helped him stand.

There were no drums, nor string instruments, nor anything else but the rolling roars of waves as you and Aemond danced beneath the growing moonlight with only your fire as witness.

-

The following morning you were surprised to see everyone already at the table eating. Aegon, Helaena, their children, Alicent, Otto, Aemond, and your father. Happiness filled in your chest at the idea of sharing a meal with Aemond – he’d been so busy you two hadn’t been afforded the luxury for what seemed days. You and Jane shared a little look as you strolled to the empty seat next to your betrothed. Polite greetings filled the table. It all looked and smelled wonderful. 

“Good morning, my prince. Is there an occasion I’m unaware of?” you asked as you began dishing up. Ever since you could remember you were always most hungry in the mornings.

“Good timing on everyone’s part, I’m assuming.”

Beneath the table, he bumped his leg against yours and gave you a half-sly side glance. Manners were important to him, and sharing a table with so many kin meant his bump, and his face, was likely all the flirting that would happen this morn.

It didn’t go unnoticed by you nor the King. Where you smiled coyly and shared the look with Aemond, Aegon snorted. “I forgot to ask, brother, did you and Lady Redwyne enjoy your little adventure out to your rock? I heard she had sweet little bruises all over her tender flesh that night. I don’t blame you for not wanting to wait. She’s supple as any peach,” he said brazenly, finishing the remainder of his wine in a single gulp. “More,” he said to everyone and no one alike. Holding his goblet out to be refilled, he chuckled and flashed his best smile to you. Judging by the glaze over his eyes, and the dark circles beneath them, this wasn’t the first cup of wine he’d had. 

You tensed. Aemond tensed. At your side, and beneath the table too, Jane gripped your hand tightly. Lord Redwyne glared at King Aegon but dared not say anything – at least not yet – in fear of what the drunken King might do.

“Aegon Targaryen!” Alicent hissed to her oldest son, dark eyes blazing. “King or no, that is extremely inappropriate. How dare you speak to your brother and future sister-in-law in such a way in front of everyone!”

“What? I’m only expressing my happiness to my little brother for finally getting it wet. And with a girl so pretty too. Prettier than any whore I’ve seen.”

Jane squeezed your hand hard as Aemond’s and your father’s chair toppled backwards with the ferocity in which they stood.

“Says the man who took me to a brothel when I was only three and ten–”

“King or not I will not sit here and let some boy talk about my daughter in such a manner you insolent–”

Aemond’s voice and Lord Redwyne’s voice boomed into one, their words meshing in a mess of hollars as Alicent joined in the scolding. Polished silver clattered loudly and silently alike onto the stone floor. Who had thrown it?

You were struck dumb. If this is what broke out during an otherwise ordinary meal, what happened behind closed doors? During small council meetings? Stress weighed on the entire kingdom and the family before you bore the bulk of it. Everyone’s nerves hung by a thread: a thread which could be snapped as easily as a dried twig by a stupidly careless remark. Embarrassment burned your face and hot tears threatened to spill from your welling eyes. This was nothing short of a nightmare and you wanted nothing more than to disappear.

Your ears muffled as if you were under water. You weren't sure how much time had passed. Even Otto stood, his voice adding to the yelling.

“Come, Princess Emeline,” Helaena’s soothing voice whispered delicately against your ear. Her hand, beautifully pale and impossibly soft, grabbed for your own and pulled you from your chair amidst the yelling. She ushered you away. Crimson wine dripped onto the floor from where it was spilled atop the table.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” you stammered, frantically swiping tears from your cheeks. 

“I am sorry for the way my husband is acting. If I am to be honest… we received extremely troubling news about Rhaenyra and Daemon this morning. Even if no one will admit it, this war has everyone scared.”

Despite the meaning of her words, she, outwardly, seemed calm.

Not having anything intelligent to say, you squeezed her hand reassuringly. No one followed you ladies out. At a glance, it appeared guards were watching and taking note of your movements through the halls. Helaena turned here, and there, and before you knew it you were standing out by the weirwood. It loomed tall and wide. It cast a shadow of mysticism. Tranquility. For the first time since arriving in the dining hall you breathed a true lungful of air. And then another.

"You are a strong swimmer, and Aemond a strong flier. Both, and more, will be required in the coming time," Helaena spoke dreamily as she led you to an ancient camellia tree. "Two fruits of one, and one of two," she continued to muse aloud. She laid back in the vibrant petals fallen amongst the grass, and you followed along. "Have you ever noticed how red this camellia is? It hardly seems real."

Your vision turned from her to the tree. Leaves of green and flowers of red contrasted starkly against the blue morning sky. A breeze moved through the air and a petal slowly fell to land on the center of your abdomen. "I've never seen one this size before," you said in the serene quietness. Comfort seeped into your bones as you watched fluffy clouds drift across the sky.

A thin long legged spider crawled across Helaena’s outstretched hand. She watched the tiny creature as if it were the most magnificent thing. “You make my brother happy. Thank you for that, princess,” she said, not taking her attention away from the spider. “He bears much and carries more.”

Helaena’s words sent something like love fluttering in your belly as you regarded the gentle far-seeing Queen. Her white hair fanned around her head like a halo on the crimson petals; violet eyes distant and unfocused. “Thank you, Your Grace,” is all you replied, not wanting to break her other-worldly concentration. 

She continued to mutter quiet things about: from two to one, moving shadows, and cracked shells. 

Tranquil minutes passed. You became lost in the garden of your mind.

“My Lady…,” Aemond’s voice broke through your reverie. “I apologize for what happened.” He extended a hand to you, silently offering to help you up from the grass. “Allow me to take you to your chambers?”

You nodded and accepted his hand. “Yes, please,” you said as you stood and brushed any debris or wrinkles from your dress. Emotion swelled up from your diaphragm to the back of your throat and it took a steadying breath, or three, to push it down. Stress and tension simmered inside you and it threatened to boil over.

“Thank you, sweet sister, for getting her away,” Aemond said. Helaena only briefly regarded him and offered a short wave. 

Aemond held you close as you both walked the halls to your bedchamber. Beneath the scents of smoke (which clung so close to him you swore it seeped from his own pores), leather, and bathing oils, he smelled like clean sweat. It wasn’t at all unpleasant. If anything it made you want to bury your face into his neck and not come out for hours. Hurt weighed on your heart. 

You missed home. You missed the sense of normalcy you'd known your whole life. So many things were different here. You clung to Jane when you could, and even grounded yourself to Louis, and of course found comfort in your father. Thank the Seven they were all here. If they weren't, you might very well have turned around in Blackwater Bay as soon as you arrived.

Here, now, you clung to Aemond. Your prince who regarded you with compassion, curiosity, and gentleness, so unlike the way you'd seen him interact with anyone else. It only made you want to draw those tender moments out from him more.

"Aegon is vile. And an idiot," he said as soon as your chamber door was securely shut. You stood facing each other in the gentle sunbeams of your quarter; still somewhat bare and lacking your personal touch. "He is drunk but that is no excuse for him to behave in the way he did. Are you alright?" Both his hands cupped your face in reverence, his single eye peering between both of yours as if deciphering your thoughts like scrawled words on parchment.

Hesitation hung in the air before you nodded. "Yes, I'm alright, my pr-, Aemond," you caught his title before it fell from your lips, whispering his name instead.

"Your Aemond. You are correct, princess," he smiled and tipped his head down to meet your lips in a tender kiss. "No harm will come to you whether it be from my kin or enemy alike. Do you understand me? As my betrothed, and even more so once you are my wife." His gaze was only sharp, now, face stern, lacking any of its previous softness.

Searching his features and posture, you, once again, hesitated before asking in a voice that could have been lost in a space any louder than the one you currently shared, "you promise?"

"I promise."

-

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow and/or reblog and/or letting me know! It would make me vvvery happy ♥ See you in chapter 5 where there will be wedding bells!

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you did not asked to be added but I thought you might like to know since it has been so flippin long! @borikenlove @abbyandizzysmum @disco--fairy

[yaza-con-queso]

My dealer: listen I've got something you might like

Me, who is destined to be defeated by my own hubris and curiosity: okay hit me

Dealer: here *opens of silver suitcase* *opens to show bag of dog treats*

Me: okay very funny stop pulling my leg and give my weed before I throw you against the wall

Dealer: nah nah listen. they're edibles disguised as dog treats, no copper is gonna be whining up your leg if you've got these treats

Me who doesnt understand why i even come back here anymore: okay your freaking me out with the dog puns but I'll take'em. Can you please bring me normal weed next time btw? I'm tired of getting roped into these wacky adventures because of your strange drugs

Dealer lying through his beautiful smile: of course but you just enjoy yourself my good companion. Your one of my best and only customers and I make sure to only sell the best quality spices for someone so special.

Me grabbing the weed doggy treats and it stuffing into my snack stash bag: sure whatever well see yeah til next time

...

..........

.....................

I awake I dreary state, my mind and body rebooting as they tether together after this smoke session. The time between when I ate those stupid treats feel like either three hours or three days. Maybe three years seeing that I felt like I got sent to mars, died, and was reincarnated back on earth. I was drowned in a sea of feelings and emotions and buried in the mud for hibernation. Only now has the spring thawed me out of this cold winter pond.

My eyes readjust to the bright lights even though they're incredibly dim. I think I'm lying on the floor. I'm covered in food stuff and atleast half a bottle of ketchup i must have murdered in some weed rage. I gotta layoff the hotdogs.

I flop over onto one side like a log. I try to get up but my arms don't seem to work. Within my mild consciousness I force my body to stretch my eyes open. It feels like lifting a boulder. Like my body has gone rock solid and I'm forcing myself out of this petrified cocoon.

My eyes decieve me. I have. Paws. Crossing my eyes I zero in on the wet black spot I now realize is my nose on my elongated snout and not just a my vision giving out. GOD DAMNIT THE WEED MADE ME INTO A DOG FUCK.

[confessions-official]

once i went to a korean store and i thought i should try some ramen, because of how my older sister couldnt handle the spice in my chicken flavored ships (which are VERY mild), however i took the one that said 4x hot and when i made it i took like 1 bite and i already drank half of my 24 oz water bottle i had incase, i was about to accept my fate to make this my dinner when my dad came in, tried THE SMALLEST AMOUNT, like barely ate it, made the worst face and said "im taking this away from you i do not want you getting a stomach ache" and i kinda feel bad about it honestly, i need to get more spice tolerance so i can try new food lol

.

[shockinglysubmissive]

I'm slow af, this shit got LONG 😅 didn't bother editing either, apologies in advance

Hope ya don't mind, added some of my own mild-spice HCs, ignore them if it's not your vibe 😅 Keepin' this one tame, mostly expanding thoughts about what you shared, but if you're interested in some naughty thots I'll write a whole other piece, this is soft boy hours apparently ~

ps Dabi is referred to as boy/the boy because Fatgum is older, there's not a lot of synonyms when talking about two dudes, and let's be real Dabi is a twink ass 🫶

tw eating, minor weight increase, blood

× × ×

The first time he met Dabi, there were so many red flags going off in Fatgum's head. But less so about him and moreso about his upbringing. The shifty glances, the subtle flinch of those vibrant eyes anytime Fatgum moved too quickly, maintaining a calculated distance, the short responses, watching his every response as if the tone of his voice couldn't even be trusted. It was worse after he'd expended his mass and was in the process of regaining. He reminded Fatgum...of a stray cat. A wet one, at that. One that had been burned by trust one too many times...

Thankfully, Fatgum knew exactly how to win over a stray, be it by birthright or circumstances, it's all the same. Food.

And it works. Over time, the boy starts to fill out a bit, even seems to have a little more energy, according to you. Not wanting to spook Dabi, Fatgum always set the food out and left, although later on he started dawdling until he saw Dabi in the distance just to make sure the boy knew who was leaving it out. Fatgum did this to show Dabi that he wasn't looking to get anything in return, merely helping out a friend of his girl. It was slow, but worth it. Once in a while, Fatgum would camp out so he could watch and make sure Dabi ate the whole meal.

He liked watching him eat...and not just because it filled him with pride. Dabi used to scarf down the food the second he made sure no one was around and waiting to jump him while he was distracted, or, lord forbid, steal his food. In regard to his quirk, he was powerful...his physical disposition and endurance...not great, real easy to knock-out so he couldn't let his guard down. But now? Now Fatgum could see him relax, releasing the tension in his body and settling comfortably into his new weight. Especially when he finished feeding and stretched, his shirt rising enough to expose the delightful little pudge of his belly.

One night, Fatgum noticed something was very off with Dabi. He was sluggish and ill paced for his liking. Sitting on the abandoned park bench under the streetlight, the enthusiasm wasn't there, which concerned him. The boy didn't appear injured, so he gave it time, watching the occasional sway. He barely made it a quarter through before the sway became a slump, and the boy sunk down on his side. Fatgum cautiously moved in, but was relieved to see that Dabi had just fallen asleep. Judging by the darker rings under his eyes, he hadn't slept in a hot minute.

Fatgum removed his sweater before draping it lengthwise over Dabi, who laid curled up on the bench. After closing the container, he set it aside before sitting next to Dabi's head; he wanted to keep the boy safe while he rested. It was quiet, as Fatgum updated his girl on the situation, even daring to send a picture of the sleeping Dabi, although his attention was quickly drawn to the jerk and hushed noise from the sleeping figure. He was grimacing in his sleep, the occasional twitch and jerk pulled at Fatgum's heart. Nightmares. No wonder the boy was tired.

At first, he set a large hand in his shoulder, gently rubbing small circles with his thumb, though he transitioned to soft strokes of his palm down Dabi's shoulder and side. That seemed to calm the sleeping mind, which relieved Fatgum. He continued to play on his phone with his free hand, losing track of time. He could feel the difference in the boy, a bit more coating his ribs and the gentle squish just above his previously gaunt hips. He felt...good.

It wasn't until he felt the body under his hand begin to tense up that he realized a couple hours had passed. Glancing down, he saw that Dabi kept his eyes closed and face blank, unlike the peace he initially had. With a soft breath, Fatgum slowly rose up, and casually walked straight away, not looking back, and unaware of those practically-glowing orbs watching him go. Fatgum was so relieved when you found his sweater outside the door the next morning...he liked that one, it was a special gift from you.

It was after then, that Fatgum would come home to find you spending time with Dabi. He'd leave upon Fatgum's arrival, but each time, stay a little longer, those bright eyes following him curiously, looking away the moment their gazes met, as if trying to deny it. This went on until Fatgum invited him to stay for dinner, which seemed to catch the boy off-guard. He quickly played it off, his response dismissive, but accepting. He was awkward, and out of place, but beyond that the night went smoothly.

It warmed his heart; after seeing Dabi fidgeting with his chopsticks when he cleaned his first plate, Fatgum offered him seconds, which again caught Dabi off-guard. He looked like he wanted to say yes, but couldn't. Or perhaps, wouldn't. Either way, Fatgum didn't leave room to say anything, slowly collecting his plate and providing Dabi with another half-serving. That was the first night Dabi crashed on their couch....literally. Hit a bit of a carb coma, both you and Dabi gently resting against one another in front of the TV as Fatgum cleaned up post-dinner. He grabbed a blanket and a pillow, setting them down and supporting Dabi while you slipped out, and settling him comfortably before tucking a blanket over him. As suspected, Dabi was gone by the time you and Fatgum awoke, but that habit wouldn't last.

It took Fatgum by surprise the first time he came home to find you compressing a bloody injury on the back of Dabi's shoulder, and he leapt into action, retrieving extra supplies and standing next to you behind Dabi, a heavy hand set on his good shoulder to keep him from getting up to flee. You moved in front of Dabi, soft words trying to soothe him as you insisted he was safe and that Taishiro was here to help. Fatgum cast a glance to you as you dropped his name, and you softly assured aloud that it was okay, your eyes on Fatgum, who knew you were reassuring him, more than Dabi in that moment. Fatgum gave you a slight nod, waiting until Dabi settled, relenting, and allowing him to tend to his wound.

That night you let Fatgum know that Dabi started coming to you for help, and that he should probably expect to see more of him...since you were pretty sure he knew what time Fatgum came home, and he usually doesn't wait that long. The look on his face told you that he certainly wasn't upset by that prospect...in fact, he seemed...flattered, touched. And you were right, Dabi did show up anytime he had an injury, even those in...interesting locations. You'd gotten called in, so Fatgum decided to stay home and prepare a hot meal for your return, only to receive a certain pyro, limping in and pulling himself up onto the counter casually talking at...what he thought was you. Dabi's eyes widened, considering he ended that borderline salacious comment cockily and playfully calling you 'babe' for the first time, and....you weren't there. Fatgum had never heard him say more than a couple words when he's been around so he couldn't help the warm smile on his face, that only grew. He liked this saucy, almost bratty side of Dabi, felt a little envious of you.

Dabi slipped off the counter and started for the door, but Fatgum's large warm arm wrapped around his front shoulders, stopping him in his tracks. He could see the red over the remains of his cheeks, feel how tense he was, and honestly, he thought it was...cute. He hoped it was embarrassment more than a fear that Fatgum would beat him for calling his girl 'babe'.

"Easy, easy, let's get you cleaned up, alright?"

Dabi was clearly hesitant as Fatgum looked down and saw the source of the blood beginning just below his groin, which explains the remark about maybe getting lucky enough to see his....yeah. He managed to get a nod from Dabi, who resorted to silence around Fatgum. He kicked off his boots before slowly unbuckling his belt and pants, hesitating. Fatgum gently rubbed his shoulder, trying to reassure him if it was low enough, Dabi could just hold the leg of boxers up, but if it came to it, it's not something he hasn't seen before.

With a defiant huff, as though to dismiss the very thought that Dabi might be uncomfortable disrobing at all, he shoved his pants down, not even registering the pain as he accidentally split the coagulant gash, crimson spilling fresh down his inner thigh. He kicked them off, and Fatgum picked them up, bringing them to the bathroom and tossing them in the tub as he got the larger first aid kit, hoping his lack of access to pants would disincentivize from trying to leave. He returned to Dabi leaning against the counter, arms crossed as he acted disinterested and unaffected. His body...said otherwise.

Fatgum kneeled down in front of Dabi, a gentle hand tugging the legband and inseam of his boxers up enough to expose the top of the gash. The back of his hand brushed against the gusset, making Dabi's knee twitch. A haphazard apology as Fatgum asked him to hold it up so he could clean it and get him patched up. Dabi chose to look up and away, opting to pretend it wasn't happening. Fatgum was certainly impressed with his pain tolerance, wondering if he felt it at all anymore, but not wanting to pry. It was a bit of a tight spot to work, which meant quite a bit of brushing, and Fatgum noted that Dabi at least could definitely still feel, and respond, to that. He'd be lying if he said he didn't steal a couple glances during his ministrations. Dabi had a soft white trail dipping out from his waistband, that crept to his little belly. Below that waistband, he certainly seemed...endowed, to say the least.

Once the butterfly stitches were finished and he wrapped his thigh in bandages, he gave a couple pats on the outside of his thigh, earning a flinch, much to Fatgum's misfortune. He stood up, telling him to wait there, as he went to fetch a pair of his jogging pants. He tossed them to Dabi, knowing the elastic ankles and drawstring waistband would keep them from falling off, while also not putting pressure or scrubbing the wound. Dabi looked from the joggers to Fatgum, who explained his reasoning. Dabi rolled his eyes and tugged the jogging pants on, tying it loosely around his waist. They were still quite large on him, but not a bad look. Fatgum interrupted his thoughts, telling Dabi that he was about to start dinner since you'd be home soon, and he was welcome to stay. He'd sew his jeans after he washes and dries them, if he was willing to wait. He made sure not to be watching Dabi, cleaning the blood off the floor instead. Earning a dismissive 'fine, whatever' sighed from Dabi, Fatgum smiled, listening to the boy flop onto the couch.

It wasn't long after that interaction that he found Dabi showing up more frequently, although no longer just for wounds. It was more casual. Well...for the most part. Where better to hide from your enemies than in the very home of a pro hero? Not that Fatgum believed he really needed to hide, granted the power of his quirk, but he liked it when Dabi asked you and him for thoughts on quirk-type match-ups. That wasn't where it ended; while he was preoccupied preparing dinner, Fatgum often heard you explaining a variety of things to Dabi, to the point he wondered if perhaps...the boy didn't make it through school. A lot of the basics seemed to be missing, all things considered, and it would certainly explain how unsocialized and distrustful he was, especially to those older than him. It was giving Fatgum a whole new perspective on Dabi.

Dabi stopping by became a fairly regular occurrence. He was getting more talkative around Fatgum, much to Taishiro's delight. Dabi would even sit next to him on the couch, and if it's later at night, he'd lean on Fatgum or especially cozy up to you. Needless to say, Fatgum has a surprising number of secret pictures on his phone of you and Dabi on the couch, napping together, that he will take to his grave.

Holy shit ..

This is amazing! This is damn near the exact way I imagined it in my mind!

Words cannot describe how much I love this! Thank you so much for taking the time to send this! I will definitely be rereading this hundreds of times.

[mercy-misrule]

Unfortunately the curry that was too hot for me was also really delicious so I have eaten it all.

Man, I wish I understood my spice tolerance. Some foods I'm like crank da heat up and others I'm like pls mild only I'm a baby who is white as milk.

But I've always been able to push through a delicious curry that's too hot for me lmao.

I remember being 12, tears and snot streaming down my face as I could not be stopped eating a Sri Lankan beef curry with egg hoppers.

We returned to that restaurant many times. My dad, who has the specific white working class British man tolerance of spice that is unreal, just happily eating his curry, while me and my sister tearily ate ours but it was so good, and hoppers are so good that like...you simply must.

[hazbinhazbinhazbinreblog]

So for once, nothing angsty, but something more fluffy! ANd its based on food!

So I think, if I remember right anyway, canon Alastor does not like fast food or like food similar to it, and that kind of implies to Radio Guard Alastor too. To a degree tho. He very much would rather cook than have take-out, but also he is not complaining if you wanna give him the egg and spring rolls from the Chinese takeout. It is mainly when he super tired though or had an exhausting day and just has no energy to cook for the gang, since I imagine he may have took over the cooking duties of the hotel.

And now for everyone's favorite types of foods and or flavors of stuff! Alastor-Def prefers more homecooked meals, doesn't matter what, if its homecooked, he will probably enjoy. Does however lean more towards spicy stuff. Man loves spicy dishes, be it a painful spice or a comforting one. Def knows all types of Louisiana cooking and is so happy to share them to others.

Charlie-More on the sweeter side of things. Probably has a love of homecooked food too, mainly like breakfast foods I imagine. But probably also likes fruity stuff too (haha get it because she's the daughter of the Morningstar aka the Devil, the one responsible for Adam and Eve eating the Forbidden Fruit //bonked). Probably loves more baked good spices too? So like cinnamon apple stuff would be her favs

Vaggie-Spice and bitter girlie I imagine personally. She will take her coffee black with a spot of cream or milk while chomping on ghost pepper dusted chips like it was nothing. Can also, for some reason, see Vaggie was a soup girlie. Idk, she gives soup girl vibes. Probably loves spicy veggie soups that just warm you up. Ignoring the fact they are in hell and hell is probably already super hot.

Angel Dust-Def ate like junkie munchie foods. Like cheap, really gross and greasy food. Didn't like it, but it hit the spot. If not that, then super healthier, lean foods, since lets be honest, Valentino would his workers on extreme health diets so they would stay "pretty", so the whiplash of foods probs wrecked Angel's stomach. Now, while trying to go sober and in a safer and healthier environment, Angel def enjoys trying to cook Italian food he remembers his pa or ma making. Would like baking more me thinks

Husk-Bar food. Husk is like Angel, he is eating junkie bar food to use the grease to curve his later hangover. Maybe not as much anymore, but its still there. Alastor does get on him, now more so in a place of concern for Husk's well being. Honestly probs better just making drinks but I can see Husk knowing how to work the kitchen too. Def the type to go to if you have the late night munchies since he knows how to make the most killer late night meals

Nifty-Sugar. Just. Pure. Sugar. She is the type to dump marshmallow fluff on a pizza its that insane. She knows how to cook, sure! And she can cook well with others, yes! Alone in the kitchen? Haha no. Your food is gonna somehow end up in lime jello and taste like you liked the bottom of Willy Wonka's boot. Just dont.

Sir Pentious-Probably doesnt really mind anything. As a snack he def has a more meat based diet which took some time to get used too. Probably likes more mild to bitter foods than anything else. Like the Brit he is, he is def drinking tea with everything. Probs also likes egg based dishes since some snakes do eat eggs. Probably mainly bird eggs, like quill or chicken. So egg bois are safe!

Lucifer-Dont think Luci has a pref. For a good long while it was just whatever he could find in the kitchen after staying locked up in his workshop for days on end. So bowls of dry cereal or pb&js to name a few. It took being forced out of his workshop by Alastor (and seeking therapy by Alastor and Charlie's request yeas later) that Lucifer started to eat more. Like his daughter he loves fruity sweets, and as a given likes pancakes. Probs makes killer cinnamon apple pancakes.

Vox-Probs cheating to say Alastor's cooking, but it is Alastor's cooking. Def has more of a spice tolerance than other Voxs hfdsjkf. Outside of that, probably any more homey foods. Or cheaper stuff like ramen since he never wanted to leave his room at V Towers. Def survived on energy drinks that tasted horribly sweet but kept him going at the tower too. You can imagine his utter joy when at the hotel when he just got to eat proper cooked food again, especially Alastor's

-⚔️ anon

Cinnamon apple for Charlie makes so much sense, she'd probably have begged to get that one cereal that claimed to be cinnamon apple but was kinda mid

All of this feels so incredibly canon and accurate, your MIND

[bunnywritesjunk]

Ruusaan | Captain Rex x Reader

Series summary: You missed your tropical planet, but coruscant had more to offer. You are a field medic in the 501st. you work closely with the captain in hopes of not losing your job. But how close is too close.

Chapter summary: You and Rex have lunch together. Some unsavory events happen.

Pairing: Captain Rex x Reader

Warnings: SA (mild), Masturbation, inappropriate outfit? mutual pining, Rated R

Word count: 2.6k

Genre: Fluff and angst

A/n: Hello everyone. Sorry for the late chap again. I was actually in the hospital because I had a seizure. I'm ok just a little shook. Anyways I wanna give it up for our wing man and woman in this chapter and I added a little spice for fun. Beyonce exists in my star wars. Comment if you want to join the taglist! Enjoy!

Chapter 7

Rex made his way to the lower med bay with his lunch tray. He was trying to keep his pace steady and slow. He was a little too excited to spend time with you. More excited than he would like to admit. When he arrived there were no patients. He could hear music playing from your office. He made his way to the door of your office and knocked. Music blared into your ears as you worked. Playing music boosted your morale while you worked on boring papers.

"You won't break my soul, you won't break my soooouulll."

You sang along loudly.

Rex knocked again, louder this time. You turned around and jumped when you saw the captain. Your tail flew straight up in fear.

"OH! Hi Rex. You scared me." You turned the music down.

"Sorry." He looked around your office sheepishly.

You got up and cleared your desk of your holo pad and random paperwork.

"Sit in my chair I'll get a spare." You rushed off to find an extra chair.

Rex set his tray down on your desk and removed his helmet. You came back carrying a small foldable chair and a bowl. You set the bowl down on your desk before unfolding the chair. You took a seat and started poking at your food mixing it up. Rex sat there for a few seconds feeling awkward. He removed his gloves and started to eat his food. The music played quietly in the background.

"So, how's your day been so far?" You asked.

"It's been ok, just paperwork."

"Yeah, same."

"Nothing interesting happen with you?" He asked.

"No, nothing except you." You smiled warmly.

"I'm interesting?"

"Well, I don't usually have people wanting to have lunch with me." You took a hearty bite of your food.

"Well, I like you. Uh..."

"I'm glad, I like you too Rex.” You cut him off sensing his nerves.

He gave you a small smile. The two of you continued to talk as you ate. Rex listened to your occasional rambling about work and things you need to do around the ship.

“Not to mention, I need to put in my leave request. If I don't show up my family will kill me.”

“Why would they kill you?” He asked.

“Um...Well, my family is pretty traditional. My decision to leave the planet and pursue a medical career is taboo. They allowed me to do this with the stipulation that I have to come back when called.”

“Why is it taboo?”

“It's just a culture thing I guess. Many women in my city choose careers in royalty or politics, some choose to marry and have families, and others join the woman-only military. There is a job for everyone, no one is homeless, no one is starving, and everyone is happy and successful. Wanting more than what's there is considered...selfish.” Your eyes shifted to the ground as you spoke.

“Wanting more for yourself isn't selfish. That's doing what makes you happy.” Rex said.

You smiled at him.

“I know, I don't regret it at all.”

His amber eyes met yours, they held a softness to them. You couldn't seem to pull your gaze away from his. His eyes darted down toward your lips.

“Um, excuse me?”

A voice called out from the med-bay, breaking you out of the trace Rex had on you. You got up hastily.

“I'll go check on him really quick.” You told Rex while walking out of the room. You greeted the trooper.

“Hello, what can I do for you?”

“Yeah uh...my leg hurts...” He sounded unsure.

“Ok, sit on a bed I'll get my holo pad.” You left it on the side table of one of the cots.

Turning back to the trooper he was sitting on the bed watching you. His gaze made you a little uncomfortable. You remembered that the nurse uniform you had to wear drew some attention. Usually, the troopers were more conscious about their stares. You walked back over to him holo pad in hand.

“What's your CT number?”

“Oh? You don't wanna know my name?” He said.

“It's so I can bring up your medical file.”

“Nah, you don't need that.”

The Trooper got up and slowly stepped towards you. You held your ground as he made his way to you. When he was almost chest-to-chest with you, you looked up at him. Your tail flicked back and forth sharply.

“CT number please.” It was more of a demand than an ask.

“Relax, sweetheart.”

He grabbed your hand and brought it up to his face. You pulled away quickly. Before you could take a step back he grabbed your waist and forearm to hold you still.

“No need to be scared, I don't bite.' He sneered.

“Let me go. Now.” You warned him almost growling your words.

You tried pulling away from him but his grip on you was borderline bruising.

“She made it clear she doesn't want you touching her. So tell me Trooper, why are you disobeying her direct order?.” Rex said calmly from behind you.

The Soldier let go of you and stood at attention. You took a few steps back rubbing your arm where he grabbed you.

“Captain! Um, we were just... I was here for an exam...” The Trooper stumbled over his words trying to find an excuse.

“Right.” Rex walked towards the trooper slowly and menacingly.

“What's your CT number?”

“...CT-9082 Sir.”

“You're in luck Trooper. You'll get to spend the rest of your days on Kamino's cleaning crew instead of the front lines.”

“But Sir! I didn-” Rex got into CT-9082's face merely inches away.

“Should I have you removed from duty completely, soldier?” Rex asked him.

The Trooper shook his head not meeting his Captain's eyes.

“Right, so I suggest you start packing there's a shuttle that leaves tonight.”

He left in a hurry. Your heart was still beating hard in your chest from the earlier interaction. Your head was low still trying to process the event. You felt a hand on your shoulder.

“You alright?” Rex asked.

You looked up at him and nodded. He took your hand gently and guided you over to sit on one of the cots.

“I'm ok. I'm just a little shocked that happened.” You told him.

“That was completely unacceptable and inappropriate. You'll never have to see him again.” Rex balled his fist tightly.

“How about you lock up for the day.” Rex said.

“Oh, no. I can't I still have to be open for walk-ins.”

“I'll put in a sick notice for you. You need some rest after that.” He rested a hand on your thigh.

Your tail swayed behind you eagerly.

“Well...ok I guess.” You got up from the cot and walked over to your office. Rex followed. You both cleaned up your forgotten food and headed out of the med-bay.

“I'll walk you to your room.” Rex said not leaving much room for negotiation.

'It's alright, I don't want to bother you.”

“It's no bother.” He started walking at a leisurely pace before you could protest further.

You caught up with him and matched his walking speed. our tail swayed lazily behind you. Groups of Troopers glanced at you two as you walked by. You walked in comfortable silence. Your shared apartment was in view sooner than you anticipated. Once you reached the blast door you turned to rex.

“Well, thank you for today. I appreciate you standing up for me. I'm kinda seeing a pattern here with us.” You chuckled.

“Of course, I'll always be there for you.” He returned a small smile.

“You wanna come in for a bit?” You asked him. Your mouth moved a little faster than your brain when you asked that.

“Um...sure.” He responded

“Oh, ok.” You said not expecting him to agree.

You opened the door and walked in. Rex followed you in looking around your small apartment. He set his helmet down on the coffee table. You went into your room to put your shoes away. Walking back to the living room, Rex was standing there awkwardly.

“You can sit down. Get comfy.” You tell him gently.

You walk over to the couch and plop down on it. He sits next to you as you turn on the holo television.

“So, what shows do you like to watch?” You ask him.

“I don't watch much.”

“Well, in that case, let me introduce you to the worst kind of entertainment in the galaxy.”

You pressed a button on the remote to a preset channel. The hologram projected a large title, “The Real Housewives of Coruscant”.

“Last episode they had a dinner with all the wives and Katrina showed up even though she wasn't invited because Phoebe doesn't like her. So there was a huge fight.”

You filled Rex in as the holo-projected women threw drinks at each other and pulled each other's hair.

“Huh.” That was all he could say.

He wouldn't admit it but this show was pretty interesting. After a while Rex decided to take off the torso and arm pieces of his armor. You didn't mind but the simple act made you a bit nervous. You tried to bury all inappropriate feelings but that was difficult as he basically undressed himself inside your home. He moved closer to you on the couch your thighs touching. The two of you stayed like that for a while. You started to get sleepy and tucked your legs under yourself. Your head slowly slid down onto Rex's shoulder as you slept. He looked down at you and smiled. Your body heat and rhythmic breathing started luring him to sleep as well. The Holo show played in the background quietly as you both slept through the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rex stirred in his sleep, his nose was buried in a floral scent. He noticed he was laying down, his arm holding something tightly. The body in front of him snuggled into him more. Rex took a few moments to process the position he was in. He was spooning his field medic. He didn't know what to do, did he wake you up, or leave without saying anything? Before he could overthink more he heard you sigh. You stirred and lifted your head.

“Uh, good morning.” Rex said sheepishly.

You turned around to look at him.

“Good morning.” You said with a smile, trying to diffuse the awkward nature of the situation.

You sat up and Rex followed suit.

“I guess we fell asleep, whoops.” You chuckle while looking down at your body still in your work uniform.

“Yeah.” He responded.

Nawi walked out of her room looking refreshed. She glanced over at you and Rex sitting on the couch.

“Well, good morning guys.” She gave you a bright smile while heading over to the kitchen.

“...Hey Nawi” You greeted your friend.

“How'd you guys sleep?” She asked with a grin.

“Good, good....” You said. Rex didn't reply.

Nawi grabbed her premade breakfast from the fridge and went back to her room. She closed her door not before giving you a knowing look.

“Well, I should probably get going. There are some meetings I have to get to.” Rex said.

“Oh yeah, that's probably a good idea. I don't even know what time it is.”

Rex grabbed his discarded armor from the night before and put it on quickly. He got up to walk out, not once looking at you.

“Thanks for staying with me Rex, I really appreciated it.” You said before he left.

He gave a quick “No problem.” And left.

You felt dejected. You had enjoyed cuddling with him and hanging out, but maybe he didn't want things to go further than that. You went inside your room to freshen up. You tried to think about anything other than Rex.

After you got out of the refresher, you changed into sweats and went out to your living room. Nawi was sitting on the couch watching a Holo movie. She glanced at you then back to the holo.

“So, did you two?...” She asked.

“No! We didn't.”

“Did you at least-”

“No Nawi!” You snapped at her.

She raised her eyebrows at your sudden outburst. You gave her an apologetic look and sat down next to her.

“I'm sorry Nawi, I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just a little frustrated.” You sighed.

“What happened?”

You told her everything, about how protective Rex is of you. On Umbara and in the med-bay. How you both enjoyed each other's company and even fell asleep on one another. Only to friend zone you and run away in the morning.

“Hmm, have you thought about how he might feel in his position?” She asked you.

“What do you mean?”

“Well think about it. You're a beautiful woman working with him. He only gets to talk to women he is interested in when he's on leave if he even wants to. He's a Captain, having a relationship with a staff member is probably taboo. I think he likes you, but he's scared.” She explained.

“Yeah, I didn't think about it like that.”

“I mean who wouldn't fall for you.” She smiled.

“Be quiet you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rex Power walked to the barracks, his mind racing. Waking up next to you had been a little more than he could handle right now. He had to get in the refresher and...release some pent-up emotions. Once he got there he clumsily took off his armor and blacks leaving them in a messy pile on the floor. It's been a very long time since he's felt an urge like this. He was too stressed with missions to think about masturbation. He turned the water on slightly cool.

His cock twitched when the water droplets hit it. He grasped himself firmly in his hand and started pumping slowly. His mind flashed images of you, your cute smile, the way you walked, how your ass looked in that forsaken uniform. He pumped faster groaning.

He pictured your sleeping face, how angelic you looked resting on him. He was getting close. He imagined what you'd look like under him. Needy and ready to take all of him. He could hear you moaning cutely as he pumped you full of cock. Rex held onto the wall as his orgasm drew closer. He pumped his hand faster. He came fast and hard trying to stifle his moans as best as he can. After he was done, he stood there for a couple of minutes. He felt guilty thinking about you like that. He washed up and walked out of the fresher, wrapped in a towel. He headed to his bunk to grab fresh blacks.

Rex noticed a trooper in the bunk across from his but paid no mind as he got his clothes on.

“So, where were you last night?” The Trooper spoke.

Rex looked up and saw fives grinning at him. Rex sighed not in the mood for his antics. He thought about lying to him but couldn't come up with one with his brain still foggy.

“I was with Ruusaan.”

“All night?!” Fives exclaimed.

“Nothing happened”

“You mean to tell me, you spent the night at her place and did nothing? A wasted opportunity.”

“We're just friends.” Rex shot the arc trooper a pointed look.

“Right, because friends make you need a cold shower after hanging out with them.” Fives chuckled.

Rex didn't respond.

“Listen, don't be scared to take it further with her. Who knows maybe the war will end soon. You'll want someone to live out your retirement with.” Fives said cheekily.

The Arc Trooper walked away leaving Rex to his thoughts. He might need some more reassurance than Fives. Maybe from someone who has a secret relationship.

[muses-inn-a]

what are your muse's thoughts on spicy foods? // whoever of your muses can NOT take spice AT ALL or is the closest to it @out-of-characters / meme

Out of all my muses, I think Isaac is the one who struggles most with spicy food. Though Jerry Smith is certainly not very keen on strong spices, either.

Isaac never really ate much spicy food in his childhood because his parents weren't into it. And he never really touched spices much later in his youth or into adulthood, either.

It still doesn't appeal much to him. But, he won't judge people using and liking spices for their food, he just doesn't want it on his own meals. Besides, he likes food such as mild curry. He just can't with the strong chilis and peppers.

As someone who is not used to strong spices, his stomach can't handle it well when he does try some. He prefers food served with spices separately, so all the present people can use it at their own discretion.

Carver on the other hand is more used and also very fond of spicy food. He likes chili and peppers very much, if he gets the opportunity to eat any.

[theautisticcook]

My little mango tree a couple months ago and now homemade mango chutney with some of the mangoes we’ve harvested!! 🥭🥭🥭

Rough recipe below…

Add about 1/2 tsp each of garam masala, cumin, coriander seeds, smoked paprika, turmeric, fennel seeds, or whatever spices you might fancy for a curry flavour to a neutral oil warming in a pot. Toast the spices until they are fragrant.

Then I added about 1 tsp of fresh ginger (at this stage u could also add garlic and I did think tamarind paste might be nice too) and about 8 medium to large tomatoes that have been peeled and diced. I used green tomatoes cos that’s what I had but they were a nightmare to peel so idk.

Turned the heat down to low so it would just slowly bubble away and put in 2 chopped mild green chilies and I think 4 or 5 ripe mangoes cut into cubes.

1/2 cup white sugar and 1/2 cup brown sugar went in and a pinch of salt and I let it cook down for while, maybe 20 mins. Then 1/2 cup white vinegar and 1/3 cup lime juice (lime zest would b nice too) and cook down again until it started to look jammy.

Whilst still hot it went into 4 sterilised jars though I did have a bit left over lol but we ate it with dinner that night