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writingquestionsanswered · 6 months ago

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How to avoid info dumping at the end of a story (with a huge world change) for a large cast of supporting characters in order to let readers know how these characters are getting on with their lives?

My first, second, third, etc. drafts of this climax and resolution chapter keep getting messier the more I try to make this information more organic and less boring. I can't seem to break out of telling this information to the reader when I know that showing works better.

There is an epilogue chapter which is dedicated to showing the lives of my two protagonists a few years after the story's resolution so I'm not worried about how that plays out.

Thank you for your time, and for this blog. I recently discovered it, and have sent it to my other writing friends.

Story Clunky with Supporting Characters' Resolutions

It sounds like you're trying to do way too much with your ending. :)

I like to think of story endings in three stages:

-- taking stock as the "dust settles" from the climax -- settling into the post-climax situation/world -- "sometime later" epilogue, if any at all

Taking Stock as the Dust Settles

Regardless of whether your story's climax is the final round of a cheer competition, a last-ditch effort to prevail upon a love interest not to leave, a courtroom battle with an innocent life on the line, or an epic showdown between good and evil, from the first second the climax is won or lost, a period of "dust settling" begins. This period can play out over minutes, hours, even a full day or two immediately following the climax. During this time, the protagonist/s and any main characters directly involved in the climax take stock of the impact of their win or loss by tending to any casualties, examining the consequences, and determining next steps. In story structure, this period is known as "falling action" because things are ramping down toward the ending.

Settling Into the Post-Climax World

Now we skip ahead to when the dust has settled. The casualties have already been tended to. The consequences have been examined and addressed. Next steps have been determined and taken. This is days later, possibly weeks, maybe even months. The protagonist/s have settled into their new, post-climax situation or world. If they won a cheer competition and the result of that was being accepted to a college dream team, they're packing up the car, ready to drive to their new college life. If they won a major court trial and the consequence was being able to retire with a clear conscience, they are cleaning out their office and daydreaming about sipping tropical drinks on a beach somewhere. If they overthrew an oppressive usurper and the consequence was being able to assume their rightful place on the throne, they are flanked by hopeful courtiers as they make their way into the castle for their coronation.

Sometime Later/Ever After Epilogue

Some stories skip ahead several months, a year, even a few years to show where things finally end up. The cheerleader may be performing during a college homecoming game. The lawyer may be drinking a mojito on a beach in Mazatlan. The queen may be watching a joust at the Queen's Tourney while the citizens of her happy, thriving kingdom enjoy the festival.

Where do main characters fit into all this? It's easier to address the main characters during the "dust settling" stage, because they were part of the climax. They're already there, already participating.

However, depending on what your protagonist/s "settling in" and "sometime later" stage looks like, the main characters who were involved in the climax may not even be present. They may be off doing their own thing by that point, and it may be tempting to leave the protagonist to go show what each of those characters are doing, but that's how you end up with an overblown, clunky ending.

If your characters are a part of the protagonist's "settling in" and "sometime later" stages, you can find a way to have them participate in the scene that is mainly highlighting what the protagonist is doing. For example, let's say the usurped heir has a bestie who is a knight-in-training, as the now queen is walking into the castle for her coronation, she might look at the flanks of hopeful courtiers and see her best friend in their shiny new Queen's Guard armor, and she might think about how she's excited to hug them during the knighting ceremony later that day. With just a few sentences, we've let the reader know that the knight-in-training has been inducted into the Queen's Guard and is going to be knighted. Then, if you choose to do an epilogue where the beloved queen is watching a joust during the Queen's Tourney, you could have her watching her bestie compete and win, illustrating that they're now a successful knight. And let's say there was a blooming relationship between this knight and another character... when the knight wins, they jump off their horse and embrace the loved one. Now the reader knows they're together and having their own little HEA. Again, just a few sentences, no big deal.

In other words, the point isn't to do a five paragraph dive into what each character's life is like now. You just find the most important element or two, then find a succinct way to illustrate it--showing, telling, both... whatever works. If a character wouldn't be present during either of these two stages, the narrator or protagonist can tell the reader (briefly) where they ended up. Or, maybe the protagonist gets a text message that hints at a few things, or maybe another character asks about them and the protagonist fills them in.

I think a really great example of this is in the movie version of The Mockingjay [spoilers for The Mockingjay, the movie in particular.] After the climax and the "dust settling" stage, Peeta reads a letter (from Annie, I think?) that updates him and Katniss on how she and some of the other characters are doing. We get one line about Gale, an important character and one of the most important people in Katniss's life, when we are told about his military appointment. But, that's all we need. We don't need to see him actually performing that role, or know where he's living or who he's loving or what he does in his spare time. We just need one point of reference that roots him in the space of the "ever after." Gale has been promoted to a captain in district two to help keep order and security. Boom. Done. End of story.

And there are many supporting characters whose endings we don't get to hear about. It's okay for us to wonder where this character or that character ended up.

So... be honest about who needs to be rooted in the "ever after" in some way. Who will the readers care about the most besides the protagonist/s? Rank the characters from one to whatever, and address only the top three to five. Find a way to work the characters naturally into the protagonist's "settling in" or "sometime later/ever after" epilogue so the reader can get a glimpse of them there. Or, if they are in another place at that time, find a way to have the protagonist/s learn of where the characters ended up so the reader can learn along with them.

It's going to make for a much less clunky, much smoother ending. :)

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statichvm · 7 months ago

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hi y’all.

as many of you know, my baby stella has been going through quite the health journey in the past year, with things really ramping up in the last few months. we’ve reached a bit of a roadblock in her journey — cancer is not off the table, but she isn’t well enough (combined with her age) to pursue the biopsy needed to confirm or deny that diagnosis. in the meantime, we’re shifting towards a tentative chronic pancreatitis diagnosis and treating it as such, hoping her next round of bloodwork in a few weeks might shine a bit more light on things.

we’re happy to try anything at this point, but these treatments (and the bills up to this point — it’s been over 1000 in the last month alone) are really starting to weigh on us financially as we settle into twice a week vet visits. my husband works full time, but i’m limited to part time work because of my own poor health. it’s hard for me to ask, and i certainly don’t want to pressure anyone as i know times are hard, but i’m going to link my ko-fi in case anyone wants to donate to the “keep stella’s motor running” fund. if you can’t spare anything, love and prayers are also appreciated. 💜

#once again absolutely no pressure to anyone #i know we’re all struggling!!#boosting would be appreciated but not necessary #thank y’all for all the love you’ve shown stella 💜#personal ramblings

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maybege · 8 months ago

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What If - Part 3

Summary: The more you get to know Paz Vizsla, the more you fall for him.

Pairing: alpha!Paz Vizsla x omega!fem!Reader

Wordcount: 5.8k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, explicit sexual content, size kink (Paz is big-big), semi-public sex, thigh riding, cockwarming, dirty talk, idiots in love

Whoop whoop! Another weekend, another part! This is, technically, part 2.2 with some more smut, some fluff, some idiots in love and a very special adorable guest star that could not miss if we want to talk about Paz in S3. Thank you so much to everyone who wrote a comment or reblogged the story so far, I really appreciate it and I hope that you enjoy this part too. The next (and last) part will be out either next week or the week after, just because I need to channel all the angst lol

Again: Just a little reminder, that this is not strictly adhering to canon and I am just roughly imagining what actually happened during these episodes.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

You woke up alone the next morning, the sun already high in the sky. It was later than usual but you felt so blissed out, you could not really bring yourself to care. Your entire body felt deliciously exhausted and as you stretched your arms over your head, letting out a big yawn, you realized that you had slept better in this stranger’s (though could still call Paz Vizsla a stranger now?) bed than in the last few years in your own cot.

There was a fresh bowl of fruit on the desk and this time you did not hesitate to devour the tasty berries which you knew he had meant for you. The sheer fact alone that Paz Vizsla had organized breakfast for you made your heart race.

The sun was out in full force by the time you left the ship. You could see people milling about, carrying crates this and that way and for a moment you felt bad that you had slept the day away instead of helping.

But then you thought about how your job for these few days was to be a calmer. And if your alpha (yours) was calm and happy and made your heart skip a beat, then you had done your job by keeping the peace and prolonging Axe Wove’s life for yet another day.

Rounding the ship to get to the inventory, you passed by another ramp, this one almost completely abandoned except for a small figure that huddled at the entrance. When you came close enough, you realised it was a child. Still helmeted with the same blue as Paz’s clan, but certainly a child if the frail shoulders and little hands were anything to go by.

For a moment, you hesitated. You didn’t know what it was like in their clan but in yours, it was rare to see a foundling on their own and even rarer to leave them on their own if they were upset. So you approached him.

“Hi,” you greeted the child sitting, “You okay?”

You could hear sniffles under his helmet and your heart broke. Clearly, they were not okay.

“Yeah,” the boy mumbled, turning away from you, “Go away.”

Forgotten were the happy activities of last night and the way Paz Vizsla could make you smile even in his absence. “Were – do you maybe want to talk to one of the elders of your tribe?”

He shook his head fervently.

“Sometimes it helps me to speak about it with a friend,” you suggested lightly, “Do you have a friend you want to talk to? I could get them if you like?”

“I don’t need your help,” he spat suddenly and you recognized the hurt in his voice, your mouth grimacing at the pain he must feel. And you were not about to abandon a hurt child, no matter how angry they might be.

True to your feelings, it did not take long before he spoke up. His voice was much softer than before.

“They said I could not be a good Mandalorian because –“ he shook his head again, folding his arms over his knees.

“Because?” you asked carefully, debating whether any of the clans might be offended if you consoled this child. But in the end, you decided, you all just valued the foundlings’ happiness.

“Because I have never been to Mandalore.”

You hummed in acknowledgement.

“Most of the people here have never been to Mandalore,” you explained gently, “I haven’t been either and you don’t see me being treated like I’m no Mandalorian, right?”

He tilted his head, musing over your words. You could see how he was debating your helmetless existence and not for the first time did you wonder what it was like to grow up in one of the more stricter tribes. Whether their foundlings grew up knowing that there were other ways – many ways, actually – to the same goal.

“My dad has been to Mandalore,” he said suddenly with the pride only a child could have.

“Really?” you asked, “And he never told you that you need to have been on Mandalore to be a true Mandalorian?”

He shook his head eagerly. “No, he said I am a true Mandalorian no matter where I was or not. The important thing is to honour the way of the warriors,” he quoted his father with a deeper voice and you smiled at his antics.

“Your father sounds like a very wise man,” you nodded, “And don’t you think he would know a bit more about being Mandalorian than your fellow foundlings?”

That seemed to give him pause. “Yes, my buir is very smart,” he said thoughtfully, “And I don’t think that Loren and Say’na have been to Mandalore either, actually.”

“See?” you nudged him playfully, “They don’t know what they’re talking about either. We are all just on our journey to become Mandalorian.”

The boy nodded, clearly in a cheerier mood than before. Then he turned to you fully. “I am Ragnar,” he inclined his head, “This is the way.”

Recognizing it as his greeting, you repeated your name and the phrase,

“What do you think Mandalore will look like?” he asked eagerly, “Have you dreamt about it? I have. I think it is going to be full of the highest mountains and no caves in sight, I don’t like caves. And waterfalls too! Buir said he saw a waterfall as a child and he promised one day he would show me.”

Grinning at his excited chatter, you listened carefully to the pictures he painted with his words. Of snow-capped mountains and rain forests so full of rain, there would never be any deserts in sight. (Turns out Ragnar did not like deserts nor the creatures that lived in them.)

“What do you think Mandalore will look like?” he asked again after a while and despite the blacked-out visor on his face, you could picture his eyes twinkling in delight.

“I think it will be full of grassy hills and lakes,” you revealed, “When I was little, I always dreamed that I could wake up to the sound of waves and take a swim whenever I wanted. Has your buir told you what Mandalore is like?”

“Buir does not like to talk about it,” he shrugged, “But I am sure if you would ask him nicely, he would tell you! He always says I'm too small for that stuff but you are big! Though my buir is bigger, he is the best warrior in our tribe and one day, I am just going to be like –“

“Who do we have here?”

“Buir!” the boy called excitedly and you watched with utter surprise and fascination as he jumped up straight into the arms of the warrior who had kept you company the last few nights.

“You are – He is – What –“

“Getting all speechless again, ‘mega?” the large man joked, “Seems I have that kind of effect on you, huh?”

You were so flustered you did not know what to say. Instead, you just snapped your mouth shut as your brain worked overtime. Paz had a son. Ragnar was Paz’s son. Paz was Ragnar’s father.

Now that you saw them together, their helmets the same colour as the night sky, you wondered how you had not realized it earlier. But Paz had never mentioned a child. And as you watched Paz set Ragnar down again, a heavy hand on his shoulder, you wondered whether Ragnar might have a mother somewhere that still played a role in Paz’s life.

The thought made you feel strangely queasy.

“Buir, she has never seen Mandalore before either,” Ragnar announced, looking up at his father, “Maybe I can be a good Mandalorian after all.”

“How many times have I told you your value as a warrior quality is not dependent on whether you have been to Mandalore,” he chided his son gently in a way that parents often did when their children finally had a revelation after years of them telling them the exact same thing.

“Sometimes it helps to hear it from someone else,” you said quietly. Paz’s gaze snapped to you and you swallowed.

“I suppose that is right,” he said and as Ragnar decided to jog back to his now-again friends to play, Paz came to stand in front of you in all his glory, covering the sun from your face.

“Ragnar is very sweet,” you started shyly, “I didn’t know he – or that you – He … he is very proud to be Mandalorian.”

“That he is,” your alpha replied, “Some clans don’t see him as my son ever since I found him all alone but to me and mine he is my son in all the ways that matter.”

“Our clan has the concept of foundlings, too, you know?” you smiled, your heart bursting in your chest at how protective he was over his son, “He is very proud of his father.”

“And I am very proud of my son,” he replied, “He, uh, he only recently had his helmet ceremony. And it got interrupted in a – he – let’s just say there is nothing I would not do for him. A world without him is no world for me.”

“And that is all that matters,” you reassured him, your heart skipping a beat while your head tortured you with images of what he would be like as a father of your children.

“Did you sleep well?”

You shook your head slightly, shaking off the question of whether he would mind being the father of your future children, “I did, though I am a bit sore.”

His hands immediately appeared at your side, gently helping you up as if soreness rendered you incapable of carrying your weight on your legs. You snorted, feverishly trying not to think about how the heat of his body seeped through your clothes, “Alpha, it is not that bad.”

“I like it when you call me alpha,” he rumbled, not seeming the least bit worried about his concern for you, pulling you closer so he could wrap his arms around you properly, “You did it last night … maybe you can do it tonight too.”

Your core felt molten at the thought of being in his arms for the rest of the day and you were sure he could see how your chest was heaving in excitement. Though as much as you wanted to, there was a tiny voice in the back of your head that made you hesitant.

“I am not sure if I can leave again,” you spoke out loud, “It … Would you truly be okay with me joining your clan quarters for the night again?”

“I don’t think it will come to that conversation at all,” Paz said, his hand sweeping over your back, “The council has decided,” he announced quietly, “We will make our way to Mandalore by nightfall. And if you are comfortable with the thought, I'd like to share my cot with you.”

The ship offered no privacy.

While Paz did have his private room – the one you had spent the previous night in – getting all clans onto one or two ships, meant having to share and rethink the limited space available. As a sign of respect to the clan leader, Paz Vizsla offered Sluice his room and she accepted.

This meant that Paz, along with his fellow warriors, was assigned one of the bunk beds. And one of them meant one of 64 in a large narrow room with too high ceilings and four bunks stacked on top of each other.

The worry in his voice was clear, even through the helmet, when you helped him carry his personal belongings (including a very soft blanket you distinctly remembered cuddling into), assuring you that you could change your mind. But the thought of leaving Paz had not occurred to you once and when you pointed out that several calmers had joined their alphas in the large room and none of them seemed to mind, his shoulders had visibly relaxed.

“We will find privacy in other corners of the ship,” he had promised you, his voice low and deep and sending shivers down your spine.

Only you had not expected him to find privacy so soon.

You were walking down one of the abandoned hallways of the ship, trying to get a feel for the layout so you would not get lost on your way to the cantina again. The negotiations had been postponed once more and with Paz in his polished armour, bent over a strategy table, you decided to flee the cockpit so Chants could not see just how needy you were for your alpha.

Your alpha.

You smiled, the warm feeling in your chest expanding until your entire body felt warm and cosy, thrumming at the thought of him. Could it be that Paz Vizsla really was your alpha? You had never expected to find what some of the elders had called true mates: a person – an alpha – that was just perfect for you and for whom you were perfect. And while you were not sure if you were truly someone that he would want forever, you were getting surer and surer that he was that someone for you.

You were just about to turn a corner when a hand closed around your upper arm and drew you back. Instincts kicked on and you squeaked, flinging your leg back to try and kick back into your attacker but they turned you around so quickly, you had no chance. Within moments, your back was pressed into the cool metal wall behind you, with no option of escape. And a blue helmet entered your vision. “Paz,” you gasped just before his hand came down on your throat. He was not wearing his gloves, which meant he must have planned it all beforehand. You wondered when. And how. And if he spent more time thinking about you than you thought (an idea that filled you with an immense sense of hope) but all thought evaporated when his thumb brushed over your scent gland.

Fuck, you were needy for him.

“Is that okay?” he checked in, his voice rough. His helmet came down against your forehead and you could sense him looking at you so intensely you felt like you could never hide from him. “Wanted to surprise you.”

You nodded, pressing your thighs together when his fingers twitched on your throat. He was so in control of you, of the situation, it felt like you could flood your underwear just upon his command.

“You're not wearing gloves,” you whispered.

He hummed, his thumb scenting you again, “No, I wanted to feel you.”

“O-okay,” you gasped, writhing against him. His thick thigh slipped between your legs and your toes were barely touching the floor when he angled his leg just so. He made you dangle, the only things holding you being his hand on your throat and his thigh on your pussy.

And you did not want to have it any other way.

You did not have to see him to know he had a very amused grin on his face. “You like my armour,” he stated, his legs shifting and you squirmed, “Let’s see how much.”

“Wh-What?”

“Ride my thigh, omega,” he instructed, his fingers flexing around your throat, “When I step foot onto our home I want to have my armour marked by your come.”

“Don’t – don’t you want to fill me up again?” you asked, trying to tease him even though you felt like you were in no position to tease at all. More like begging. Was it too early to beg? “Or – or have me cockwarm you?” you added as an afterthought.

“Who says I cannot do all of these?” he chuckled, bumping you on his leg so high it put pressure on the part you needed most, “After all we still have at least a dozen hours before us.”

Your hands flew to his shoulders, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep you somewhat steady. Almost immediately, you slipped your fingers to his cowl almost immediately and Paz did not stop you when your fingertips managed to find his warm skin, brushing over it until you found his scent gland.

“I don’t see you grinding yet,” he said instead, angling his knee even higher and you squeaked, “Don’t you want to be a good girl for me?”

Of course, you did. And he knew it.

With your dress hiked up over his leg, you could feel the coldness of his beskar through your underwear. And what might have been a turn-off under normal circumstances, with Paz towering over you, shifting his leg again as a reminder of his presence, you found that it turned you beyond belief.

You started moving your hips slowly, though you felt like you were failing miserably at exuding any kind of sex appeal. With your feet having no real contact with the ground and Paz fixing your head so you would not lose his gaze, you felt anything but graceful. But he did not change his stance, nor his grip on your body. While he kept one large hand on your throat, his thumb consistently brushing over your scent gland, the other wandered to the cleavage of your dress.

As soon as he started pulling the delicate neckline down, baring you to his eyes so slowly, your breath got heavier until it just got stuck in your throat. You wanted to please him, stars, how you wanted to please him. And you knew that he liked you, knew that he found you beautiful and yet, at this moment, it was only his mumbles “Stars, you’re so beautiful” that had you release your breath.

And worry about other things.

“What if someone sees?”

“Then they’ll only see my back,” he replied, his fingers playing with your tits and tracing over your pebbled nipples, “And if they tried to see anymore, they will have to deal with the consequences.”

Something in his tone, the possessive undertone, paired with his scent, caused a fresh wave of arousal in you. You could feel your panties sticking to your folds, the wetness gathering on the delicate fabric. There was something slightly humiliating about your position like this, out in the open, and yet you could feel no shame.

Not when Paz made you feel like the most beautiful omega ever to exist.

Soon, you grew more confident in your movements, grinding properly against the hard beskar plate. It was so unforgiving and Paz just kept on playing with your tits, gently plucking at your nipples like it did not make you tremble in his arms. “Could play with these all night,” he murmured, “One day I am gonna have your cock warm me all naked so I get to take my time. Just going to play with these until you’re blind from pleasure.”

You wanted to remind him that the last time he took his time, you had ended up being unable to speak and move. (Though the sleep afterwards had been fantastic.) But the words got stuck in your throat when his hand left your throat (and, regrettably, your scent gland) and pulled your panties aside.

Already, you could feel how drenched you were but could not find it in you to be embarrassed. Instead of ceasing your grinding at the thought of someone accidentally passing by, all you could do was hope that his finger might catch on your clit. They did not. Though knowing that he stared at where your folds left races of wetness on his made you even hotter. Your breaths grew heavier, the knot in your core tighter, and as you thought about cockwarming him until he filled you up again and again, you lost all inhibition.

Tightening your arms around his neck, you hoisted yourself up and closer to his chest. The proximity allowed you to pulse your hips and stars, did it feel good, the way your folds and your clit bumped over the texture of his thigh plate. You wondered how the design came to be – and although you were very sure that this particular situation hadn’t been considered when forging it, you still sent a silent thank you to whoever had made this piece. A few thrusts later, the beskar had warmed with your touch and with your increasing arousal it also became a much easier glide.

“Look at you,” Paz rumbled, clearly pleased, “Marking me for everyone to see. Grinding yourself on my armour like it is my cock.”

His words sparked a sudden idea. The kind of idea that made your heart race and your brain fuzzy but something in your chest told you that Paz would love it just as much as you.

With surprising determination, you surged forward and attached your mouth to the sliver of skin you had freed. His skin was warm and salty under your tongue as you sucked on his scent gland. His taste exploded on your tongue and you moaned, feeling your pussy clench around nothing.

Paz grunted, his body slamming you into the wall, punching the air out of your lungs.

“Fuck,” he growled, his hands gripping your hips and taking control of your movements. You could feel his bulge against your leg and knowing he was as affected by your pleasure made your heart flutter.

It did not take long for you to completely come apart in his arms. With his cock straining against his codpiece, your clit rubbing over his thigh plate your almost-but-not-quite exposure to anyone who might walk by, it had only been a matter of time.

You moaned against his neck, shaking in his arms as your walls clenched around nothing, wishing for his cock inside you.

“You're doing so good for me,” he growled, “Mark me, sweetheart. Do it.”

Your teeth just barely grazed his scent gland when you had the realization that, yes, this was what you wanted him to do. You wanted him to mark you, you wanted to mark him.

You wanted this man to be your alpha.

Another wave of pleasure rolled over you, making you whimper in the cold silence of the hallway. Your entire body just sagged into him, completely pliant for the man in front of you. And Paz was there to catch you, holding you up against him.

“Good omega,” he whispered, as he slowed your movements, gradually working you down from your high, “You are amazing.”

“Hmmm,” you hummed against his neck, brushing your nose over his scent gland, “You smell amazing.”

“Cause I smell like you,” he whispered, “C’mon, let’s get out of here before someone sees.”

“They won't though,” you slurred, your tongue still heavy in your mouth, “Cause you won't let them.”

He paused, his hands brushing from your shoulders to your hands. Slowly, his fingers intertwined with yours as if he were afraid you would run away if he were to touch you too soon. With him standing in front of you, his leg no longer between yours, gravity did its thing as your dress fell over your legs, hiding the sticky mess between your legs. Though your expression and scent probably gave it away to anyone who looked at you for more than a fleeting moment.

“Yes,” he said warmly, “I won't.”

Smiling through the haze, you rested your head against his chest and he let you. Being hugged by Paz made you feel secure in a way you had never experienced before. His arms tightened around you and he started to slowly sway from side to side, humming a melody you did not recognize.

“How are you so comfortable?” you asked in a mumble, trying to smooth your cheek against him through the cold beskar was nothing like the warmth of his skin.

He did not answer directly but you did notice a change in his scent, something that you hadn’t noticed before. You breathed in deeply, trying to decipher where this scent of woods and sweetness had come from but Paz interrupted your thoughts, “Will you let me accompany you to your bunk?”

“Will I?” you scoffed, your voice still sounding weak to your ears, “You have to, alpha, you’ve got a tendency to make my legs tremble.”

“Say stuff like this and I will make them tremble again.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

“A promise, love,” he chuckled, “It’s a promise.”

You were not sure what you had expected when the entire Mandalorian population got cramped onto one ship, but it certainly had not been a board game championship.

“Hm, I could get used to that,” Paz murmured in your ear, his hand on your back, “Getting Ragnar to bed, having a nice drink to finish off the evening, sitting you on my cock and beating that annoying alpha in every single game this ship has to offer.”

You smiled against his neck, not opening your eyes. You had spent the last few hours just ... dozing. It was kind of scary to think about how quickly you had gotten used to this strange man but when you had settled for the evening, it was not even a question where you would spend the last few hours of the day.

As soon as the large alpha had sat down at one of the little play tables, so had you, straddling him with your chest against his and he had gotten an extra blanket from somewhere, muttering under his breath how he knew you got cold easily.

It made your cheeks heat up in a different way.

But now here you were, his cock nestled deep inside you and your face in the crook of his neck. Getting to touch even the tiniest sliver of skin felt like a privilege and the fact that he allowed you to do so in front of many of the other warriors made it feel even more intimate. Paz did not mind you scenting him. Quite the opposite, actually, he seemed to relish in it.

The previous night he had spent the time just like this, sitting you on his cock with a rumble in his chest. Only that time he had been able to reciprocate the scenting in kind. Whenever you had drifted awake (multiple times since some couples just could not keep quiet), his mouth had been on your neck, raining lavish kisses upon the sensitive skin until you squirmed in his lap. He had been awake every time you had drifted off and every time your eyes fluttered open beneath the blindfold. He had been still yes, quiet too, and smelled incredibly comfortable but his hands, his hips slowly working you open until you had muffled your gasps into his chest and come on his cock. And then he had traced his fingertips over your scent gland until you had fallen back asleep.

You wondered if he had not slept because he was nervous or perhaps because he just did not need to. You knew of a few warriors in your tribe who had made it a tradition not to sleep the night before a big battle or a trial, instead mulling over strategies and meditating until the time had come.

Briggs called them idiots.

But Paz was not an idiot.

Not with the way he carried himself so securely through the ship, how he participated in the training session, giving pointers to the younger warriors. And certainly not with the way he argued in the cockpit, discussing the best route to go to Mandalore and the strategy for how to reclaim it.

And definitely not with the way his hand was gently stroking your back, how his chest rumbled whenever you pressed a lazy kiss to his scent gland and how he made sure you were comfortable, checking in with you every time he shifted.

“You comfortable too, sweetheart?” he asked you, inclining his head so the side of his helmet was resting against your temple. The proximity allowed you not only to bury your face in his neck but also to hear his real voice – a fact that made your heart skip a beat, “Getting some rest?”

You hummed, too lazy to speak but chose to kiss his neck instead. The stretch made him shift inside you and you whimpered. He had come inside you once already and refused to knot you. (“The first time I knot you won't be in a room where everyone can see just how pretty you come for me,” had been his exact words and you had been too excited by the prospect of him knotting you to understand the implications of the rest of the words.) Which meant that there was a growing mess between your thighs, a mix of your juices and his seed and where other alphas might have found it uncomfortable, the reminder that he had filled you seemed to make Paz even harder than before.

“I’d be concerned if I had to ask my calmer if they are comfortable,” Axe Wove’s voice grated on your nerves and you wondered not for the first time if it was really necessary to be nice to him or if it would suffice to just keep Bo-Katan happy, “You wanna switch, sweetheart?”

You had not even registered that he was speaking to you until you felt Paz tense underneath you, his scent getting an acid note that made your nose twitch, “Say that again.”

“You heard me,” Axe Woves hissed, “Perhaps your omega would actually be satisfied if she were with me.”

You squeaked when you were simply lifted off Paz’s cock, his hands gripping your waist just a little bit too tight for comfort. He was angry, you could gather as much. But was that truly reason enough to kick you out of your favourite spot when you had just started to doze off again?

With trembling hands, you fought to close your robe as fast as possible. But when you finally looked up from fiddling with the belt, it was already too late.

The tell-tale buzzing of the vibro blade cut through the tense silence in the room and you knew shit was about to go down.

“Alpha,” you started to rush to his side but were kept on your spot by a pair of arms that were not your alpha’s.

You turned around angrily, ready to chide anyone who dared to keep you from trying to calm your alpha. Because that’s what he was. Your alpha.

“You know you cannot intervene.”

“Chants –“

“Everyone is watching,” your friend reminded you urgently. You knew he was right. That did not mean you had to like it though. Anyone going to stop a fight between two Mandalorian warriors had to be ready to fight themselves. And apart from your lack of clothing or your body still being disoriented from sitting on Paz’s cock not even five minutes ago, your lack of training did not lend itself to try and stop whatever was going on.

A roar was going through the crowd as they gathered to see what was going on. You caught glimpses of Sluice and the Armourer watching the fight unfold – Sluice looking just as displeased as Briggs, wherever he was, you were sure – and you grew restless. Paz making you fight made you nervous, the thought that there was even the slimmest chance that he could get hurt made you sick to your stomach.

However, after a few minutes of watching Paz fight, you found you did not mind seeing him throw and avoid punches. There was something very attractive about the way he strong-armed his way through the fight. Both men were capable warriors, that much was obvious, but his display of pure strength reminded you of your moment in the hallway and your raging heartbeat calmed down.

Paz could take care of this. He could take care of himself.

It was only when the silver-armoured man – Djarin, you thought – stomped into the circle, gripping Paz by the back of his neck and pulling him away the same way that Bo-Katan Kryze pulled away Axe Woves, finally putting distance between the two alphas.

You took that as your chance to intervene. Chants had no chance to stop you as you slipped out of his grasp and hurried towards Paz. His chest was heaving and his hands kept clenching by his side and you could smell his anger even from several steps away.

But it did not scare you. Because deep down you knew that no matter how big he was, no matter how angry, Paz Vizsla would never even think of hurting you.

“Alpha,” you whispered and the crowd went quiet, “I mean, uh, Paz.”

Taking a stand in front of him you hoped that he was focussing on you instead of a raging Axe Woves behind you. And your heart skipped a beat when his hands gently pulled you against him. He was aware of you, he noticed you, he did not care more about the fight than you.

“He said that I could not pleasure you,” he grunted and you moved to his side.

“I heard what he said,” you smiled, your hand gripping his while you rested your chin against his upper arm, “And it is obvious to me that he does not know what he is talking about.”

That seemed to relax him a little because you could see his shoulders drop and his fingers intertwined with yours. “No?” he asked, tugging you closer, “Are you sure, omega?”

“I am very sure,” you replied, feeling a little breathless, “No one ever made me feel like you do, alpha. Cherished and safe and wanted and … and –“ loved “– appreciated the way you do.”

“Can I let you go, Vizsla?” his friend asked, his tone neutral though you could swear you detected a hint of exasperation in it, “Or will you try to start another clan war?”

“Fuck off, Djarin,” Paz said, clearly not offended at the other man’s accusation, and shook his friend off but keeping his hold on your hand, “’m fine.”

“Yeah, sure,” the other man scoffed but left anyway, disappearing into the crowd that kept dwindling away now that nothing of interest was going on. But a few eyes remained on you and you suddenly became aware of how little you were wearing and how much you were being watched.

“Can we leave, alpha?” you asked, thumb brushing over his wrist and you loved how his head tilted to look at you. How he seemed to be so focused on you, you never need to worry he was in danger of ignoring you. “To … I don’t know to where, just … somewhere we’re alone.”

“I can take you to bed, omega,” he suggested, his hands falling to your hips, “I can … I could hold you close and scent you again. We got the curtain and the blindfold and our own little space. How does that sound?”

“That sounds like a dream,” you smiled in relief, already dragging him in the direction of the bunkroom, “Please take me to bed, alpha.”

#maybege writes #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x fem!reader #smut

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junowritings · 6 months ago

Text

The heat here's been absolute killer the past couple days - so it got me thinking how the rest of the Batch would cope and this cute idea popped up

All my love and thanks again to @itscanonfellas for being a huge help with this!

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Heatwave

Wrecker X Reader

Warnings: None

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The first year on Pabu, you’d learned a valuable lesson.

And it was that the heatwaves here were relentless.

The heat’s been gradually ramping up throughout the day - what was once a tepid warmth is now downright blistering both inside and out.

The batch has scattered to the four corners of the property once it became apparent that the temperature wasn’t cooling down anytime soon.

You’re pretty sure the only one who’s still technically in the house aside from you is Tech; though last time you checked in he was doing what he could to actively combat the heat, opening every single window in the vicinity while tinkering with what you hope is the beginnings of a fan from the living room couch.

Most of your morning has been spent in and out of the fridge - most of the time to fetch drinks but you’ve been caught a couple times leaning into the thing for a two second break from the sweltering temperature only to be griped at for wasting the cold.

It’s around lunchtime when you finally decide to check on everyone, fishing out a pitcher of water from the fridge that someone - likely Tech - had the foresight to stow away earlier. The icy chill against your hands is sorely welcome as you pour out several glasses - it’ll take a few trips to dish them all out, but you’d rather not try to pull a balancing act and risk smashing the glasses trying to show off.

Making the rounds is simple. Even on the hottest days you can always find the batch in their regular haunts, so tracking them down is rudimentary. Your first port of call is the living room, of course. Though Tech barely even glances up at you, thoroughly invested in the amalgamation of machinery scattered across the coffee table, he expresses his gratitude in his own way, giving your arm a brief pat as you push the glass into his field of view. With him taken care of your next route leads you outside.

From the vantage of the rooftop, you can make out a few figures across the backyard and beyond. It gives you a good idea on where everybody’s camped out. A couple of weeks after moving in, the rooftop had to be renovated; Crosshair had been a big help in getting it done, and had promptly claimed a corner of the building for his stuff the moment it was finished. You’d wondered why he had been so helpful, until you figured out it was for personal gain. Well played. Balancing the glass and working the stairs takes some work but you manage to reach the rooftop where, as expected, you find Crosshair propped up in the usual spot.

The hammock’s a new addition, and as you approach, Crosshair peeks out from his current perch, eyes sharp gauging whoever’s brave enough to come into his space. Once he spots you, or more accurately, the drink you basically hover over his face he softens considerably, though the drink is promptly swiped from your hands the very next second.

You head to your next target.

By the time you find the poor soul lost to the heat, you have to practically peel Omega off of the large rock she’s decided to lounge on like a damn lizard. It takes some maneuvering with only one hand but you manage, holding her up long enough to accept the offered drink and making her promise to find somewhere shadier. Though she looks content to bake in the sun, the last thing you need is to explain to Hunter how Omega ended up burnt to a crisp if she stays out much longer.

Echo’s got the right idea when you locate him, tucked away beneath the tree to the right of the house basking in the shade with the company of the ice packs previously left forgotten in the back of the freezer. You’re a little miffed you didn’t think of that first honestly, and you praise him for the smart thinking, as you kneel down to nudge him into taking a glass. Echo’s polite enough to offer you a pack for your trouble and while it’s tempting you inevitably turn it down. You’re not blind - even in the shade you’re sure the sweltering heat has a poor effect on his cybernetics and you can only imagine the extra trouble he has to go through not to overheat.

Even Hunter, whose body temperature runs cooler than the rest of the batch, is working up a sweat in the unrelenting heat, legs kicked up on the fencing as he presses himself into a shaded corner of the porch bench when you meander over.

He’s got a datapad in his lap and his sunhat is tilted down to hide his face from view. He looks every bit the napping dad, down to the uncomfortable sleeping position which definitely won’t help his back when he moves. You’re already conjuring up an old man joke in your head, giggling on approach, when Hunter tips the hat back and eyes you up with one eye.

Probably best not to test his patience on a day like this, the supporting the elderly jokes can wait until the temperature becomes inhabitable.

Still, the glass is accepted graciously after being assured you have your own drink inside. That leaves you with just one more person to find - thankfully you know exactly where he is.

Wrecker is definitely suffering the worst from the heat - his body runs warm enough that he is basically a walking furnace, even without any extra layers helping him. Maybe it’s all the extra muscle or the excess energy that practically rolls off of him in waves, but Wrecker’s always ran the warmest out of his brothers.

Stars, you still remember having to drop by Hoth once a year back. The Marauder’s AC had sputtered and packed up the moment you’d hit planetside. While Wrecker didn’t so much as shiver the rest of the crew weren’t so lucky, and had to pilfer every single piece of clothing and blankets on the ship just to feel a fraction of warmth. And even then it’d taken cuddling up close to the bigger clone just to stop your body from turning into an ice cube - a kindness you repaid with as much junk food as you could physically carry as soon as you were able to defrost back in temperate climates.

Sure Wrecker’s warmth had been a lifesaver during the frigid months - You quite happily spent as much time as you could wileing the winter nights away curled up in his arms, sapping at that endless source of body heat as he tucked you eagerly against his chest.

But now? It looked like his internal oven was biting him in the ass.

You find him in the backyard sprawled out on one of the deck chairs, looking a couple of minutes away from melting and becoming one with the furniture. You’re careful to step over the shirt and shoes carelessly discarded in Wrecker’s bid to cool off, but even stripped down to his shorts the poor man’s sweating bullets.

It’s impossible not to feel bad for him; you’re hoping that the water will be enough to ease some of his suffering. Taking pity on the sorry state he’s been reduced to, you carry the ice-cold drink over to where he’s slumped, the ice cubes clinking against the base of the glass as you round the deck chair he’s slumped against.

You make sure Wrecker knows that you’re there before you try anything, you’d rather not have the thing go flying if he were to jump up because you’d surprised him. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s knocked something flying because he’d been taken by surprise - by complete accident, of course, and you recall the hour worth of profuse apologies following the fiasco as he’d helped you clean the mess.

Leaning up against the chair frame you bring a hand to smooth over his bare shoulder, and the heat from his skin practically radiates beneath your fingertips. Stars he really is burning to the touch. Wrecker grumbles leaning a little into the gentle caress but doesn’t open his eyes. Your heart breaks seeing your usually overexcitable partner looking so drained.

“Oh Wrecker,” sighing, you rub slow circles into his shoulder, hoping to coax him into rousing long enough to show him what you’ve brought with you. When that doesn’t work you try the next best thing - gently pressing the drink to his temple.

The moment the chill of the glass touches his feverish skin, the sigh that Wrecker lets out is one of absolute bliss, head tilting back desperate to chase the relief that the glass provides.

“Oooooh that feels nice.” and you’re sure it does, as the knit in his brows eases and his expression morphs from discomfort to content.

Now that you’ve got Wrecker’s attention you lift the glass from his forehead - reluctantly, but you’d rather he enjoyed his drink before the ice melts. It’s a good thing he isn’t looking at you yet, because it takes all you have not to laugh at the way he groans at the loss, leaning back far enough on the chair you have to press against his shoulder before he ends up tipping the whole thing over.

He cracks an eye open to look up at you, and your expression warms at the cute lopsided grin he flashes. Your name falls from Wrecker’s lips with a content rumble as he stretches out, no doubt working the feeling back into his limbs.

“C’mon Wreck,” you sooth, pressing a quick kiss in place of where the drink had just been - a little cooler than it was before thankfully. “It’ll be better if you drink it before it melts.”

Wrecker’s sluggish but pushes himself upright at your instruction. When he no longer looks as though he’s about to sink back into the deck chair you balance yourself on the edge of it.

Slotting into a space where the chair dips with his weight you make yourself comfortable beside him in spite of the heat. From this spot the sun is relentless - it definitely isn’t helping Wrecker’s overheating problem - and you’re vaguely aware of the warmth that burns along your shoulders and the back of your neck as you twist to face away from the sun. Condensation drips along the outside of the cup in hand, a clear sign as any that you’ve been holding the thing for too long; and the moment you’ve got his eyes on you you’re handing it over.

Wrecker visibly brightens as you give the glass a little swirl, wordlessly coaxing him to take it. A large hand overlaps yours as he accepts the offered drink, giving your fingers a grateful squeeze before freeing the cup from your grip. He tips his head back and just about necks a good third of the glass’ contents, more than a bit of it dripping down his chin in his haste to get something cool into his system.

He’s halfway through chugging the thing before apparently deciding it’s not cooling him down quick enough. In the next second the remaining contents of the glass are promptly poured over Wrecker’s head, rivulets of water streaking pathways over his shoulders and down his front as he groans in relief.

As though the refreshment has breathed life back into your beloved boyfriend Wrecker barks out a laugh, running a hand over his head. You bite back a chuckle at how fast he perks up, shaking his head like a wet dog - you have to lean back to avoid the splash zone, your eyes following the trails of water droplets that roll down his cheeks and drip from his jaw like a leaky faucet.

“You’re the best, Mesh’la!” Wrecker’s got the foresight to put down the empty glass first before he ducks down, pressing his lips to yours.

Thanks to the refreshment they’re wonderfully cool and you’re more than happy to sink into the kiss, cupping his face between your hands with a blissful sigh of your own.

“Oh am I?“ You break the kiss just long enough to hum, your thumbs chasing the leftover drops on his chin and swiping them away. You already know the answer - Wrecker never shies away from reminding you every chance he gets - but it never fails to make your heart swell.

“Aw, c'mon ya already know it.” Saying this his kisses start wandering away from your lips, peppering over the bridge of your nose and across your cheek to just below the curve of your ear.

He noses the area affectionately, grinning against your skin at the giggle it elicits from you - a sound that makes him melt all over again.

Wrecker’s affection is all-encompassing - eager to crowd into your space and shower you with all of the love you could possibly want and then some. It’s one of the many things you adore about him, and you’re eager to reciprocate as he drags his mouth across your skin to your lips for more kisses.

He’s still unbearably warm, sweat slicked skin pressing against your side as he curls one arm around your waist, fingers squeezing tenderly at the bare space where your shirt rides up. The other hand comes to rest on your lower back, large palm spread flat along the dip of your spine pressing you against him and you all but fall pliantly into place. Each brush of his mouth against your own ekes out soft, dreamy sighs, and your hands trail down the back of his neck, looping around broad scarred shoulders to tug him closer.

You’d quite happily kiss him all day if you could - maker knows Wrecker would literally jump at the word go. Too bad the hot weather ruins your fun, as you become aware of the burning heat that begins to crawl down your neck and back in the wake of his touch - unfortunately not just thanks to his kisses, as the sun is apparently keen on reminding you.

Your attempt to avoid the heat is followed easily by Wrecker, whose huge form provides an excellent form of shade. That is until you start to feel the deck chair beginning to tip back.

Your hands fly up to curb the affectionate onslaught before he sends it toppling along with the pair of you. Reluctantly you push away from his lips, though Wrecker is quick enough to steal a couple more kisses for good measure before you can get a word in.

“You’re hot.” you huff, but it only gets you a cheeky grin as he bumps his nose against yours.

“Thanks.”

With a snort you press a hand to Wrecker’s bare chest before he can dive in for another kiss. “I meant that literally, Wreck. You need to cool off - I’d rather not have to pry you off of this chair when you overheat again.”

This time it’s Wrecker’s turn to huff, breath stiflingly warm on your neck as he buries his face into the crook of it. “I dunno, these kisses are helping an awful lot…” he presses another kiss, just for good measure and you snort a laugh.

“That’ll do anything but cool you down and you know it.”

The pads of your fingers smooth out along his chest, idly tracing over an old scar that stretches below his collarbone. “Could always spray you down in the fresher,” you suggest, “But I’m pretty sure Hunter wouldn’t be happy about wasting all the water.”

“Wouldn’t call that a waste.”

“Your brothers would say otherwise.”

The defeated groan he lets out in response when he realizes you’re not budging vibrates against your skin, and you bring your hand up to pat his back in a ‘there there’ gesture that only earns another groan.

Wrecker goes quiet after a moment, uncharacteristically so considering how boisterous he usually is. That lasts for a moment too long, and you’re beginning to worry you’ve lost him to heatstroke when he suddenly pushes himself upright with a gasp.

“The beach!”

“The beach?” You laugh, a little baffled at the sudden switch. “How did we make the jump from the freshers to the beach?”

“Think ‘bout it! It’s the only way to have constant water without Hunter blowing a fuse!” He taps against his head with his finger and then pokes the center of yours, as if transferring the thought.

Huh. That’s actually a good idea - one of the many perks of living here was basically being a couple clicks away from the beach. You have to wonder why no one came to that conclusion before. Maybe it was the brain fog accumulated through trying to avoid actively baking beneath the sun for the past couple of hours?

“Right, you wrangle up the others. I’ll head back inside and get the swimsuits and-” your would be list is cut off abruptly as Wrecker promptly scoops you out of the chair, the ground leaving your feet as you sail airborne upwards, finally finding your place over Wrecker's shoulder. It’s wide enough you don’t fall off at all but your vision is upside down for a few seconds.

“WRECKER!”

“Na, we don’t need no swimsuits! We’ll be in the water!”

You fail to see the logic there. “Wrecker, I'm not swimming naked!”

“You won’t, you can wear what you’re wearing right now.” He protests, still making strides away from the house.

“I can’t swim fully clothed either.”

“Why not? It’ll be fun!”

It doesn’t seem like Wrecker’s in much of a mood to listen to reason - not that he ever is when his mind is set on something. It’s something you both loved and hated about the man. “Fine. But you’re the one who’ll be scrubbing the sand out of everybody’s stuff later.”

“That’s a sacrifice I am willing to make.” He adjusts you on his shoulder, moving you so you’re less like a sack of potatoes and more perched atop it, allowing you to look down at his grinning face. “Now can we go to the beach?”

“The beach?!” As if the words alone have summoned her, Omega skids into view. All signs of fatigue are long gone and she’s practically beaming, looking significantly redder than the last you saw of her - oh, she is definitely sunburnt. Hunter’s going to kick a fit. “We’re going to the beach?!”

“You bet we are kid!” Omega cheers, practically jumping for joy on the spot. “Go round up the crew and we’re out of here.”

She stands to attention in an instant, hand raised in a mock of a salute with all the seriousness of a child being promised a reward. “Sir yes sir!” and she’s gone in a blink of an eye, sprinting up the path towards the house; stumbling in her haste “Guys! Wake up! We’ve got a mission!”

It takes seconds for Hunter to burst through the back doors into the yard; leaning over the fence with wild eyes and - he had most definitely drifted off between your conversation and this rendezvous, he still looks half asleep. Looks like peace has done Hunter some good. “What? What mission, what’s happening?”

“The beach! We’re going to the beach!” Her shrill voice carries and from your vantage point, you see Hunter press his head to the wooden railing. It looks like he’s either trying to calm his heart or gather his strength not to throttle Omega for the fright. “Did you hear, Crosshairs?”

Your gaze travels.

Crosshair is on the roof, rifle already in hand, though he seems to have clocked on that there is no danger and seems to be contemplating using Omega for target practice instead.

The girl really didn’t know how often her life hung in the balance in this place.

She disappears into the house in a blur of blonde and red - followed swiftly by Hunter, who definitely clocked onto the sunburn the kid’s sporting and runs a defeated hand down his face as he trails behind.

Sighing at their antics you drop your arm to rest atop Wreckers head, bracing yourself on his shoulder. The victorious grin on Wrecker’s face only brightens as he places a hand on your thigh to help keep you upright, rubbing slow circles. Clearly he’s got no plans on putting you down any time soon. You wouldn’t be surprised if he’s planning on carrying you the whole way there atop his shoulder.

The thought makes you smile - a smile that breaks into a knowing smirk as you hear a shout from inside the house demanding to know who’d used the last of the sun screen.

#tbb #the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #tbb x reader #tbb wrecker #tbb wrecker x reader #the bad batch wrecker x reader #the bad batch wrecker #star wars tbb #star wars #star wars x reader #juno writings #god i need to watch more bc my knowledge of pabu is very limited #sdf BUT I HOPE THIS IS A FUN READ

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cwritesforfun · 6 months ago

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Patrick Zweig x Fem!Reader: Be My Coach? And Girlfriend?

Y/N = Your Name

Bold and Italics from movie *** I Do NOT own the lines from the movie or the characters ***

Masterlist

Y/N’s POV

You were out for redemption this year. Nothing was going to stop you.

You stand in the rain looking at the court for the New Rochelle Challenger tomorrow. Your first round was tomorrow and you were ramped up hence why you ran in the rain 5 miles to the court to see where you would be playing.

You then decide to start your walk back.

The rain starts to clear as you walk through the parking lot and you hear your name being yelled from the one car in the lot. You jog over when you see it’s just Patrick Zweig.

You exclaim, “It’s good to see you again, Patrick.” Patrick asks, “What are you doing out in the rain?” You answer, “I need to run off the adrenaline I feel. I’m playing tomorrow in the Challenger.” He replies, “No sh**! That is a crazy coincidence! I play in the men’s singles match the next day.” You ask, “And what are you doing in your car in the lot 2 days early?” He shrugs and answers, “I don’t want you to pity me, my card declined and I have no hotel to go to, so I was hoping to just sleep in my car until I play.” You ask, “Do you want to stay with me? I have extra space and they gave me a second room key.” He asks, “Are you being serious right now?” I answer, “I’m serious. If you drive us to the hotel, the other key is yours.” He excitedly leans over to open the passenger door and I get inside. He starts the car up and starts driving.

You ask, “So, why didn’t you call after Atlanta?” Patrick asks, “Do we have to talk about this now?” You answer, “Either now or later. Just remember I’m letting you stay with me for free.” He sighs and replies, “I was scared of how serious you and I were getting. We were exclusively dating and it terrified me to have someone so loyal and perfect in my life. I broke it off because I thought it was the right thing to do and I thought it would make me better at tennis… After the breakup, I had sex with Tashi purely out of lust and bad decisions. I shouldn't have done it. I found myself missing our relationship a lot and I wanted to call you to talk several times. I saw you winning and climbing the ranks. I didn’t want to bring my mess to you, so I just silently supported you.” You ask, “Do you regret our breakup?” He answers, “Yeah. It haunts me to this day and I should never have done it… I have a crazy idea and I’m only asking because we’re driving so you cannot hit me or I’ll crash. Do you promise to hear me out?” You answer, “I promise with a cherry on top.” He laughs and replies, “I want you to be my coach. You’re a stronger player mentally and physically. You have the discipline and mindset to succeed. You already coach children’s tennis and you know what you’re doing. I admire the he** out of you as a tennis player but also as a person. I think you could really push me to win in my last year of eligibility next year or this year if I make it through this Challenger.” You reply, “I’ll do it. When’s your next practice.” He replies, “I have a warm-up before the match at 5 am." You reply, "OK, I'll go with you. We can start then." He swerves a little and you exclaim, "Please keep two hands on the wheel. The rain is bad and I don't want to die." He replies, "Sorry, I was just surprised how soon you wanted to start." You reply, "Dedicated coaches start sooner rather than later... now I do have a few notes to show you when we get back to my room. I have been silently supporting you recently too." You notice him smile and he says, "Oh really? And you took notes on my playing." You reply, "Yeah I did. I learned from you and I knew if I ran into you, I wanted to give you my notes to help you improve. I always want to help and uplift others." He smiles and replies, "And that's why you're the best human to ever life." You laugh and reply, "I really don't know about that, okay just park here by this door. It's close to my room."

In your room, Patrick looks around and you ask, "What's on your mind? You seem a little lost in your thoughts." Patrick answers, "I just hate that I'm bringing my mess to you. I really didn't want to do that." You reply, "That's okay, Patrick. I care about you and you deserve a good night's sleep to prepare for your matches. I believe in you and think you have what it takes to succeed. And everyone's life is kind of messy, some are just better at hiding it." He smiles and you ask, "What if you take a shower and get all cleaned up then I share my notes with you? I have some extra bananas and oatmeal if you want that to snack on. I know you must be starving too." He moves forward cupping your face with his hands before placing a light kiss on your forehead. He says, "The world doesn't deserve you. You're genuinely perfect. I will say yes to everything you just said." You smile and he goes to shower. You heat up the water in the kettle because you need to make oatmeal and you want tea to calm yourself. Of all the things you expected from tonight, reuniting with Patrick and feeling all of those crazy emotions was not one of them. You still love Patrick, but he hurt you. It was obvious he was hurting when he broke up with you and based on what he said tonight, he didn't communicate his true feelings to you and was scared of the future. He seems to be a bit more grounded now, but he still seems so lost. You know he can be great in life because you've seen him be on top (not like that... dirty mind) and work hard for what he wants. You just need to show him his potential. You just hope your heart doesn't hurt in the process.

That night, as Patrick munches and snacks, you show him your notes on how he can improve. You also go over a game plan for a few quick fixes for his first upcoming match which he agrees to. You notice the time and decide to go to bed. Patrick sleeps next to you and you both end up cuddling by the time you wake up. It's the best you've slept in a while and you do not want to get up.

You get up for your 5 am morning practice and Patrick asks, "Do you have to go? I was comfy." You press a kiss to his forehead and say, "Yes I do have to go. Will you be at my match later?" He answers, "Of course, Y/N. 2 pm, I'll be there. I can just walk in, right?" You answer, "I'll get my coach to put you on my list. Just walk to the VIP area. I'll leave you a key card next to the coffee, okay? There is free breakfast for all who are staying here from 7 am to 10 am, so get free food, okay?" He replies, "OK, good luck at practice." You thank him and get your bag. You change and leave the room.

Your warm-up goes well.

Your breakfast with your Coach is nice. Your Coach is surprised to hear Patrick will be at the match and in your row.

You relax and take a nice walk around the area. Fans are everywhere, but you manage to avoid most of them.

Patrick's POV

After Y/N left, all I could think was that I should have gotten up and gone with her. I missed her already. She's so kind and loving. She hasn't changed one bit. She even agreed to be my Coach without much coaxing. Would she be mad if I asked her out on a date? I just like her and she likes my mess. UGH SIGH WTF are my thoughts?!

I get up now restless, watch some tv until it turns 7 am, get free breakfast, and eat a lot. God, I was so hungry.

I go back to the hotel room and change into something presentable to see Y/N's match. I leave and drive to the courts. I park in the player's lot and I talk to VIP who give me a ticket for today. I find Y/N's Coach who must remember me and we catch up until Y/N's match.

Y/N as a tennis player is an exhilarating experience to watch. She moves with such ease and is very intentional. How she plays is how she is as a person, both very meaningful and observant. She's also really hot and that hasn't changed.

Y/N wins and will advance in two days. Her Coach told me that I could go with Y/N's team to meet Y/N when she's ready to leave. I don't have to be told twice. I want to see her and congratulate her.

We wait and someone comes by to inform us that Y/N is in physical therapy right now. She should be back soon. I didn't know she was hurt. I hope she's okay.

Y/N walks in and the room lights up. She hugs her team then hugs me. I exclaim, "I'm so proud of you. I knew you could do it." She half-smiles and says, "Thank you." Her team asks if I want to join for team dinner and Y/N's eyes look like they're begging me to say yes. I agree and they tell me that I can drive Y/N there. I grab Y/N's bag to carry it to the car and we head to my car. We get inside and I ask, "So uh... are you okay? You seem far away right now." She answers, "I'm just ... It's nice to have someone in my corner who really cares about me again. I really missed you." I take her hand, press a kiss to the back, and say, "I'll always be in your corner. I missed you too. You wanted me to go to this dinner, right? I thought your eyes were telling me to go, but I could've misread it." She half-smiles and says, "I don't think I would be able to stand the dinner without you. I need your laughter and joy tonight." I reply, "And that you can have madam! Let's get you some food. I bet you're starving." She laughs.

We drive to a restaurant and we head inside where we're led to a private room. The room has a table set up for dinner and a TV with Y/N's earlier match queued up. I see, her team is going over the match and she feels unsure of something. I need to find out why she didn't like the match. She looked good today.

I sit down with Y/N next to me and exclaim, "I know you want joy and laughter, so you should know that while I do think you're an amazing tennis player, I also find you very hot. I couldn't stop myself from thinking that as you played today." She asks, "Patrick, is what we're doing going to be more casual or not? Because I'm going to be your Coach and I don't want my heart hurt in this process." I answer, "I would very much like to exclusively date you and take you out on a date. I understand if you cannot be my girlfriend and my Coach at the same time though. I can wait." She half-smiles and says, "I know for a fact, you cannot wait. You're not a very patient man... I would like to go on a date with you too." I smile and reply, "Great, I'm going to call you my girlfriend even though we haven't been on a first date this time around. I just think girlfriend and Y/N go together." She smiles and kisses me on the cheek.

Before I can say anything else, her team enters. I hold Y/N's hand under the table and they all take their seats. Servers enter and start taking orders. Y/N's hand trembles occasionally and I start rubbing my thumb against the back of her hand to try to calm her.

Y/N's team goes over the plays. I try to lighten the mood by adding some jokes or personal stories. Y/N seems to like my stories and she's very engaged. Her team seems slightly annoyed by me. Her Coach even pulls her aside in a heated argument at one point.

After dinner in my car, I drive us back to the hotel and we go to the hotel room. Y/N starts changing in front of me and I tear my eyes away. It feels wrong watching her, even though I've seen her with less on. I change into comfortable clothes as well.

I get in bed next to Y/N and exclaim, "So tonight was something." She sighs and answers, "Yeah it was... My Coach pulled me aside to say that you're a bad influence on me." That is not the first time I've heard that comment. I laugh and ask, "Did they say why?" She answers, "Yeah... they think you're the reason I seemed off when I was not on the court. I was zoned in on the court and I personally think I played well. Before the match today, I found a nice area away from fans to sit in silence because I was tired of all the constant pressures that have to do with my team. I understand that they want the best for me, but sometimes they treat me as a cog in a machine, not a real human. It's stupid that they think you're the problem when they are the problem. You're the fix." I smirk and ask, "The fix? How so?" She answers, "You make me feel less alone and you make me feel like a real person. I know we didn't always see eye to eye on stuff, but we talked. Having you here has been nice." I reply, "I'm glad I can be here for you... You don't have to go with me tomorrow. You deserve some rest." She replies, "No silly, I promised you I would go. I don't break promises and besides, I won't be able to rest thinking about your match." I kiss her forehead and reply, "Ok."

SHOULD I WRITE A PART TWO?!??!?!?

Patrick's first match?!!? Y/N's second match?!!?! Art & Patrick's Match?!?!?!?!?

#challengers #challengers fanfic #challengers movie #challengers 2024 #patrick zweig #challengers patrick #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x you

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kyberblade · 1 year ago

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Cover Me (Din x Reader) - Shatter Part 4 | Dincember 2023

A/N: This is Part 4 of Shatter. It’s also my contribution to the wonderful event known as Dincember 2023! All 25 prompts in 6k words. 😮‍💨 All the prompts are in bold. I’m so excited to share it with all of you. It can be read as a stand alone, but it’ll make a lot more sense if you read the other parts first. I hope you enjoy it! Happy New Year! No use of Y/N.

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Warnings: Maybe some light swearing and mention of spiders??? Snark, Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, Din is a warning in and of himself in this one. Typical show violence. Space swearing. Mando’a. My Mandalorians do what they want. Banter. So much banter. And you’ll probably fall in love with them like I did. (I don’t make the rules.) Let me know if I missed something. (Again, all the prompts are in bold. No use of Y/N.)

Word count: 6,000 (MaGiC. ✨)

Thank you to @fordo-kixed-rex for reading this every step of the way, counting all the words for me when I had a full day, and just being amazing. You’ve been my blessing from this hell site, and I’m not sorry I made you read about spiders so many times. 🧟‍♀️ Also a shout out to @what-the-heckin-heck and @littlemisspascal for just being amazing cheerleaders as I started this process, you guys always make me smile so much and make my little shit voice shut up, so thank you. ❤️

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Xxx

“Is this information reliable?”

“Yes.”

Din hesitated, shifting his weight to one side before he went on. “What about the informant?” His head followed his weight, looking down at you with a dubious tilt.

You sighed, clutching your helmet under your arm a bit too tightly, the leather of your gloves groaning in protest as your hands stretched as far as they could to contain what you really wanted to say. With a roll of your eyes while your own weight shifted the opposite way, you huffed again for good measure, leveling his visor with a look. “Din, I am your head of strategy and tactics. When are you going to let me do my job and trust me?”

“I do trust you,” he defended, his spine straightening with the effort of his words, before his shoulders rounded just slightly with a quietly added, “I don’t trust the situations you get us into.”

You simply stared at him for a long moment, the only sounds Peli’s droids beeping in the background of the hangar somewhere as Grogu chased them with a squeal that echoed off the stone walls, before turning and walking up the ramp of the newly renovated Crest.

“Ti,” he called out after you, voice exasperated but resigned. “Look,” he sighed again, then took a few steps forward, the sand crunching underfoot until he thought better of it, and came to a halt near the bottom of the ramp when you stopped at the top, your back still to him. “I’m sorry. But your sources are usually questionable at best….”

“Your face is questionable,” you grumbled under your breath, not bothering to turn around, but he heard you, huffing softly at the slight. Holding your helmet in front of you with both hands, looking down at your visor needlessly, you sighed to yourself as was the custom in this clan, looking at the wall of the ship across from you. Finally looking over your shoulder just enough to see Din in your peripheral, still at the bottom of the ramp, you felt your features soften. “Get the kid and let’s go. We’re following my lead on who attacked Mandalore.”

Xxx

“You have the worst leads,” you said exasperatedly before pulling the trigger on the controls of the Crest, shooting a rogue ship out of the sky in front of you.

“Me?” Din barked from his copilot seat beside you. “You’re the one who trusted a pirate.” He shook his head, looking back out the viewport. “Two more, left and point three.”

The cockpit had been modified to have two pilots sit side by side, putting you on the right and Din on the left. While the controls had to be slightly recessed to make room for two people, wrapping them around the space slightly more than they had been, it worked much better for the tandem tag team style you and Din often fell into. Everything was in arms reach, or just overhead, and if for some reason one of you were incapacitated, the other would take over.

The kid still had his seat a little back and to the right of the cabin, clapping gleefully at each burst of a fireball that was an enemy ship streaked past the viewport. The rest of the cockpit was taken up with wiring and rerouting for the new controls. Peli really had worked some magic to get it all to fit in the shell of the old Crest.

With a swerve of the steering, you swept the ship to the left, Grogu squealing from his seat behind the two of you, giggling when you pulled the trigger again and caused another fireball in front of you.

“Roll.”

You followed Din’s order without hesitation.

“No, to the left.”

“I am going left.”

“No, not your left, my left.”

“Din, we are facing the same way!” You yelled. “My left is your left!”

“Then go to the other left!” He barked.

“Right.”

“Why are you confirming again, there is only one other direction other than left-”

“No, I-” you groaned in frustration, entering a tight barrel roll to the right, making the kid let out a grunt as his safety belt held him in place. “First of all, I was saying ‘right’ as in ‘right we agree’.” The stars streaked by outside the viewport in one giant circle as you continued to spiral. “Secondly, there are several other directions besides left.”

He scoffed. “Name three.”

You ended the roll and fired on another ship. “Up. Down. Forward.” You looked across your shoulder at him pointedly, your head tilted slightly back, chin jutted forward toward the viewport. “Backward.”

“That’s four,” Din grumbled, pulling his own set of triggers to down an enemy ship that had gotten too close. The Crest flew through the remaining ball of flames, dousing the cockpit in an eerie glow.

“We need to get down there,” you pointed at a nearby planet through the viewport, glancing at him just briefly, grinning under your helmet at his slight head shake at your jab.

He punched a few buttons and the readout on the planet came up, the holo spinning above the panel between you both. After a few seconds he shook his head more vehemently. “Maldo Kreis. No. Uh-uh. No way. Been there, done that.” He pressed a button and the holo disappeared with a beep.

“Why? What’s wrong with it?” You pulled the controls back, sending the ship into an ascent to avoid some ships, snorting out a laugh at Din’s abrupt huff of air and Grogu’s ruckus laughter as he squealed in joy. Reaching out, you pulled the holo back up with a press of the same button, only studying it for a second after the beep before Din had pressed it again, collapsing it with a final, hollow beep.

Ignoring your curious gaze until you turned back to look out the viewport, Din spoke tightly as you sent the ship into another spin to the right. “Crash landed there with the kid once. Don’t need to go back. Once is enough.”

“Is it safe?”

He made a sound of indecision. “Lots of snow. Lots of ice. Very cold.” He sighed. “It was no holiday, I’ll just say that-”

“But was it safe?” You reiterated.

He didn’t answer for a moment. “Giant icicles. Frost spiders….”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Spiders?”

“Spiders.” His tone was flat.

The two of you sat in silence aside from the surging of the engines of the ship and the fire of the enemies.

“Aw, is the Mand’alor afraid of some little bugs….?” You finally teased, sending the ship into a dive.

“Little-” he scoffed, his voice tight against the force of the gravity pushing against him until you evened the ship back out again. “No,” groaning softly, he settled back into his chair and flipped a switch to his side that released some tracking torpedoes at the enemy ships. “No,” he repeated less emphatically, looking to his right at you as the projectiles hit their mark and ignited, causing a muffled boom through the viewport, accompanied by a soft orange glow. Both the sound and illumination faded before he continued with a mumbled, “But I don’t particularly like them.”

“So it’s no Life Day celebration,” you mused, mulling over his words. Pointing the controls down toward the ball of ice looming larger and larger through the transparisteel, you sighed. “Maldo Kries it is.”

Grogu squealed excitedly.

Din turned to look at him from his seat with the biggest sigh yet. “Don’t worry, kid. We’re going in prepared this time.”

Xxx

“I thought you stocked up on rations last.”

Both you and Din stared at the single crate of food once the ship had touched down and the pirates had quit making pass by’s as frequently. His hands hung limply at his sides while yours were across your chest. You wished you’d taken your helmet off so he could feel the full force of your raised brow when you turned your gaze up to look at him, but you didn’t feel like unwinding your arms from their sternly disapproving hold.

No.

He would break first.

“Me?” He questioned, his weight shifting just slightly to the side and away from you at the accusation. “No. No, no, that was on your list.”

Your arms broke their hold on instinct and you grimaced at them, thankful for the cover of your helmet as you glared at their betrayal briefly before lifting your visor to fully stare at the other Mandalorian.

“Me?” You pointed to your chest before poking him in his, right in the center of his breastplate. “No. Nuh-uh, don’t do that, Din. You know Peli had me doing final repairs. She sent you to the market with R5 and the kid last minute-”

“To get her some parts!”

The two of you stared at each other.

You reached out and pushed the button on his vambrace that pulled up the holo projection of Peli’s request that hovered right above it. Pointing to the bottom, you waited while he read silently.

Finally there was a quiet, belated, “Oh.”

“What’s that? I’m sorry.” You pulled your helmet off, tucking it under your arm and resting it on your hip. This required eyebrows. “I didn’t get the list, can you read it out loud?”

There was something so entirely…. Domestic about this entire argument, that it almost made you smile. Almost. Who bought the food, who was supposed to take care of this, fixing that, running a little home together, a family, responsibilities…. It was a pattern the three of you had fallen into easily since having to flee Mandalore, and if you’d told yourself that before leaving…. You’d have laughed in your own face. But now…. Now you couldn’t see it any other way.

This was home. It was ragged, and broken, and quite frankly, falling apart at the seams most days. But it had everything you needed. Every bit of warmth. Every bit of joy, and laughter, and love. You’d quickly become a family. An aliit. And if any pirate scum was going to try and come between you…. They’d soon learn why the galaxy didn’t mess with Mandalorian’s.

Din clicked the list off without answering you. “We need to come up with a solution if we have to stay here long term.” He turned back to the crate, hands resting on his hips. “I wouldn’t think the pirates would stick around that long, but we only have enough for about three days, a week max if we stretch it.”

“That’s about one day if we let the kid anywhere near it,” you grumbled, sighing as you turned to look at the crate as well. “Guard it with your life, Mandalorian.” You looked back up at him, his visor turning to you. “It may very well count on it.”

Xxx

The Crest had a broken hyperdrive.

Din rounded on you in the main hull, slowly, in a way you didn’t like. It oozed sarcasm. “Okay,” he drawled, “I know I was supposed to get the rations, but you were supposed to fix the hyperdrive.”

You huffed, looking down at your vambraces as you fixed them for no good reason, your helmet jostling under your arm where it once again rested on your hip as you tugged on the armor needlessly. “No-”

“Do I need to look at your list?”

Your eyes whipped up to glare at him through your lashes, his visor tilted just so. Grumbling, you let your arms fall back to your sides as you stared at the wall just over his shoulder. It was fascinating. “I don’t have a list.” You let a scathing breath out through your nose, before your next words came out on a mumbled mutter more to yourself than anything. “Besides, I did fix it. ….just seems like it was temporary.” You got lost in thought for moment, your voice wandering with them. “Maybe that’s what Peli meant by ‘partial’ converter instead of the full-”

“No wonder you forgot.”

Your eyes flew back up to meet the T of his visor once again, wide in disbelief that he’d willingly left himself this open to retaliation. “So what’s your excuse?”

Din hesitated. “Excuse me?” His weight shifted to one side just slightly, as if realization was slowly dawning after the fact.

Grinning, you mimicked him, tilting your head just so. “You had a list, and you forgot, so what’s your excuse?”

Din simply stared at you for a long moment before he turned and walked away, climbing up the ladder into the cockpit in silence.

“Don’t challenge my time management skills, Shiny,” you muttered under your breath, smirking to yourself. “I’m gonna go make a fire,” you called after him in amusement, barely looking over your shoulder his way before turning back toward the cargo hold and putting your helmet on. Once the seal had hissed all the way, you surveyed the ship for something you could use for fuel. “You’re not too attached to these extra capes, are you?”

He was down the ladder in an instant, dropping in one go. “What are you-” Din looked at the box you were staring at across the hull. “That’s a box of ammo.”

“I know,” you grinned at him through your visor. “But now I know I was right and you do have a box of backups somewhere on board.” Pulling the corner of his cape out to the side, you made a tis-king sound. “Think it’s time for a switch, Mando. This one has seen better days. Smelled them, too.”

The Mandalorian snapped the material out of your grip. “It doesn’t smell that ba-”

“Why do you think I put on my helmet?” You teased.

You chuckled, turning away from Din while he grunted at the slight as you lowered the ramp, a blast of cold air rolling up the plank.

“Just stay inside the ship, it’s warmer,” he protested.

“The repairs needed have to start outside.” Tugging your own cape around you a bit more snuggly, you suddenly felt a lift of weight off your shoulders as Din removed your jetpack. “What are you doing? I need that in case I have to make a dash-”

“Be quiet,” he grumbled, setting it gently at his feet before you felt a bit of extra weight coming around your shoulders, and an extra layer of heat. “This will help some. Not much, but it’s better than nothing.” He smoothed the shoulders of his cape over your own before pulling the back to the side and reattaching your jetpack back to where it needed to be. The warmth from his own body heat still clung to the tattered fibers, weaving into your own, bleeding into a pleasant hum of contentment that settled into your very bones.

Pulling the cape tighter around you, its larger size swallowing you somewhat and acting more like a coat than anything, you tucked your chin down toward your right shoulder as inconspicuously as possible, and took a deep, measured breath. You smiled, letting it out silently through your nose, lifting your head and staring down the ramp at the world of whites and light blues as it continued to assault the Crest with harsh temperatures. “Cozy,” you agreed. “Thank you.”

The weight of his Ambam Rifle came across your shoulders next, resting neatly under your jetpack.

“For safety,” he reasoned at your slight head tilt in question.

You bobbed your head in acceptance. “Safety.” When the moment hung quiet too long, you did what you always did. “I’ll shoot any suspicious snowflakes on sight.”

To your surprise, Din chuckled in response. “Give ‘em hell.” He gave your shoulder a single pat before withdrawing his hands. “Those are not gifts. I want them back,” he teased, wagging a finger near your face when you turned to look at him over your shoulder.

“You got it,” you nodded.

Xxx

The pirate ships had continued to make pass by’s over the next few days, every few hours. One of their dingy little craft would streak across the sky overhead outside of the cave your little clan had tucked away into with the Crest, their comms chatter peppering over the frequency scanner you had running a sweep discretely in the background to catch whatever you could.

You couldn’t for the life of you figure out why they were so persistent. Of all your contacts, pirates were the least proficient, often wrong and just after a few extra credits.

That’s when it clicked.

“Din,” you posed after day three, eyeing the kid to make sure he didn’t get too close to where the rations were hidden after he’d discovered them five times already. “I know why we’re stuck.” Your eyes flew up to his visor where he stood to your left next to the heater; a fire probably would have been warmer but after that first day you decided it would have given off too much smoke and, thus, your location.

“You mean besides the broken hyperdrive?” Din’s voice was droll.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m working on it!” Pressing up onto your palm a bit to sit slightly straighter, your expression turned somber as you held his beskar gaze. “Us.”

You turned back to look at the heater absently, one knee bending to prop up your arm. “Someone’s put a bounty out on us.”

Xxx

You could hear the chitter of the spiders at night. The tapping of their multiple legs skittering across the ice just out of sight.

Standing at the top of the ramp, staring out into the darkness, you sighed when Din came up beside you.

“Anything?” He asked in amusement.

Pulling your helmet off in aggravation, you groaned. “No. They don’t give off heat so this is useless.” You jiggled the helmet before tucking it under your arm. “Kick on the high beams on the side of the Crest for a minute. I want to see in that offshoot over there.”

“That seems like a bad idea.”

“They don’t fly over this time of night, they won’t see-”

“Not the lights,” he corrected. “Knowing what’s out there in the dark.”

“Then call me stupid-”

“I will.”

You glared up at him through your lashes.

With a chuckle, he stepped forward, his boots a hollow thud on the ramp. “Let’s just try this first.” Din reached up and flipped on the light on the side of his helmet. It was a mere candle in comparison to the beams you’d asked for, barely making it to the foot of the offshoot you’d wanted to see into, but that was enough.

Legs. Hundreds of legs standing in place, aside from the slight shift ever so slightly away from the light, stood just at the edge of the beam's field of view.

“What are they waiting for?” You muttered as a shudder ran down your spine.

A smaller spider about the size of your fist ran out into the snow, sliding to a stop when some of the larger ones closer to your size hissed at it. It made an about face and went back to the group.

“A reason,” Din murmured.

“Do they really need one?” You scoffed incredulously.

His head tilted to the side in thought. “You’re right. They’re probably waiting for something big to happen….” He turned his head to look at you. “And by that I mean someone big to show up.”

You swallowed. “They get bigger?”

A high pitched squeal sounded from deep in the offshoot, a low rumble answering it from further in, and suddenly you understood why the pirates were okay with waiting you out.

“A lot bigger,” Din nodded.

Xxx

A few more days passed and your clan was surviving on an emergency stash of rations Peli must have stowed away knowing something like this would happen. Grogu had pulled one out after your stomach had rumbled for the fifth time on day three of no food, crawling across the floor with a bag as big as he was.

“How goes the hyperdrive?” Din, lowered to his haunches, asked from his perch above where you were dropped down into a hole in the floor of the Crest, banging away at the engine in hopes it would right itself.

You stopped, peering up at him as you wiped your brow and grease from the engine smeared across your forehead, your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why?”

“We’ve had a few…. Visitors.”

“With eight legs or two?” You shuddered, thinking of the ice spiders who got closer with every day. Setting the spanner against the engine, you cranked it against the screw to tighten it. “Two I can handle.”

Din chuckled. “Two. But-” He stood abruptly, peering down the open ramp.

“What? What is it?” You released the spanner, leaving it stuck halfway up mid-crank.

Suddenly, Din raised his Amban Rifle and shot, the sound echoing off the ice walls of the cavern, and causing a small avalanche of ice and snow to rain down on the top of the ship.

Lowering your voice accusingly, your hands went to your hips. “What did you do?”

Resting the rifle back along his spine, he looked down at you. “Work faster. We’ve got company.”

As you turned back to the spanner, you grumbled over the ratcheting sound, “If we could just have a droid, I could be helping you.”

“This again?” Din sighed, raising his blaster to aim down the ramp again as you began beating on the stubbornly stuck screw.

“Oh, yes. This. Again.” With a final decidedly hard whack, the screw let loose and oil of some kind began to shoot out from behind it, coating your pristine white armor in purple goo. “Kriff! Dank farrik!” Shielding your face with your hands, you looked up toward Din. “Help me!”

He let off another shot down the ramp, quickly followed by two more, his blaster smoking as he held his aim. “I am helping.”

The growl you let out in frustration had him rolling his head sarcastically. “Kid. Hey, kid.” He jerked his head toward you as he looked across the cargo hold at Grogu who once again had his head stuck in a ration pack. “Put that down and toss her that thing that’s on the crate.”

“Your cape?!” You asked hopefully, applying pressure to the leak with your hand, which only helped to keep it out of your face, liquid shooting out around your fingers.

Din snorted. “You wish.” He shot again. “It’s that coat thing you bought at the market last week. What’s it called?”

“My sweater?” You felt the downturn of your face pull it into something sour.

“That’s it!” Din slapped his thigh with his free hand. “Your sweater.”

Your features turned from downtrodden to menacing in no time flat. “Din Djarin, give me one of your capes right now-”

The sweater floated over the hole you were in by an unseen force, and fell onto your face unceremoniously.

“Too late,” you heard the other Mandalorian say, his voice muffled through the fabric. “Thanks, kid.” His footsteps started down the ramp before you could rip the material off. Once you had, though, he was already halfway down the ramp, and nearly out of your line of sight, only the tops of his shoulders and up could be seen. “Now get fixing,” he called back up to you, his voice carrying well in the quiet cave, a slight echo tingeing his words the further outside the ship he went. “We’re about to have a full house, and I’m not liking the idea of sharing the last ration pack with a bunch of low life’s and spiders.”

Grogu squawked in protest, not liking the sound of sharing his precious food.

The leak now managed to something closer to a trickle, you grumbled as you worked on bypassing that chamber altogether. “When we get back to Tatooine, we’re getting a droid, I don’t care what you say, Djarin.”

Din groaned, stepping to the side before taking another shot, his head tilting in annoyance. “We can talk about it.”

“We are talking about it. I’m saying we’re getting one. End of discussion.” The engine charged as you flipped to a separate breaker, whirring as it began to come back to life. “There. We need about fifteen minutes for it to fully come back online. In the meantime,” you pushed yourself back up onto the main deck, climbing out and onto your feet. Sliding your helmet on, blasters already in hand, you looked to Din, then down the ramp. “Tell me where to shoot.”

An errant blaster bolt from the mouth of the cave ricocheted off the top of the ship, setting loud alarms blaring from a nearby panel. “What now?!” You moaned, trudging over to the panel to read the latest report. “They took out our long range comms.”

“Well climb up there and fix it! I’ll cover you!”

Shifting your weight from side to side, you could just begin to hear the pirates gathering outside the cave. “Surely the spiders got them by now. I sent a few men ahead to scout the area, make sure it was clear. They should be meeting us here at the mouth of the cave soon. We only need proof they are dead to collect the bounty. You go in there and…. No, I’m not going. I outrank you. You go. No…. No! I said-”

As the pirates continued to bicker, Din looked at you curiously. “What’s wrong? Go fix the comms.”

“That’s on top of the ship, right?”

Din stood up straight, his head tilted in amusement. “Aw, is my head of strategy and tactics afraid of heights?”

“No,” you insisted, standing up straighter yourself before parroting his words from a few days prior about the spiders back at him. “But I don’t particularly like them.”

“We jump to hyperspace without comms and something goes wrong, we are in deep-”

“Fine!” You barked, holstering your blasters with unneeded force. “But they touch one inch of my beskar with their blaster bolts-”

Din shook his head. “They won’t even see me coming.”

Xxx

It all happened so quickly.

You were atop the Crest, lowered to your haunches using the torch in your vambrace to reattach the antenna, grumbling about getting the next astromech you saw for sale, when blaster bolts whizzed by your head from behind, sending you falling to your seat.

Without thinking, you drew one of your blasters, turned, and shot, watching three pirates drop, one after each shot.

Rolling over onto your hands and knees, you crawled to the edge of the ship, and looked down to find Din looking up at you.

Both of you spoke at the same time, your “I thought you were covering me?!” overlapping his, “Why are you shooting when you’re supposed to be working?!”

A moment of silence passed before you both spoke over the other again, his “I was covering you, they missed, didn’t they?” overlapping your, “I am working, but this would go a lot faster if you would toss me up a blowtorch, Mand’alor!”

Din sighed. “Fine.” He stepped into the ship for a moment, leaving you to watch for any trespassers. He finally reemerged and tossed the tool up to you. “Keep working.”

You huffed. “Yeah, yeah.” Shimmying back toward the broken comm tower, you called back to him over your shoulder, “Keep shooting.” After pulling out the proper wires to fuse, you turned back to him again. “And next time, read the fine print!”

“The what?”

“On your list! Read everything! Even the fine print! That way we can avoid situations like these.”

Silence, then, “Are you really blaming me for us being shot at by your informants?”

“I’m-”

Skittering across the hull of the ship in front of you made you stop everything you were doing, frozen mid movement, blowtorch inches away from frying a wire beyond fixing. From your seated position, you lifted your eyes only to peer through your visor and spotted eight long slender legs cresting over the top of the ship, coming closer and closer toward you. A body soon followed, smaller than you, but bigger than any bug had a right to be.

Din kept calling your name, his voice raising in volume each time when you didn’t answer, but you ignored it in favor of making sure the bug was dead.

In seconds you’d flipped the switch on the blowtorch back to simply the initial release of fuel before a spark, brought your other arm over behind it, and ignited your flamethrower to send a wall of fire at the menace.

Its squeal of agony was swallowed up in the angry growl of the flames as it went up in smoke, falling off the ship in a twitching mess of limbs.

You turned off your vambrace, but left the blowtorch on for good measure. Its reassuring hiss as it continued to release fuel music to your ears. Should any of its hellish friends come to visit, you were ready.

“The hell?!” Din’s voice called from below. “You’re supposed to be fixing the ship, not blowing it up!” When you still didn’t answer he went on. “What happened?”

Turning off the tool’s supply of fuel, you kept your eyes peeled for any more legs before finally mumbling, “Sweet, sweet justice.”

“Do I even want to kn-”

Another spider dropped down onto the ship behind you, between you and Din, with a thunk. A thin silvery string of web shining like ice from the ceiling still attached to its back as it started to skitter towards you pulled your gaze away for only a second.

Without another thought, you switched the blowtorch back on and lit the bug up with your vambrace, sending it screeching over the edge of the ship, landing at Din’s feet with a satisfying thud.

Turning both the torch and your vambrace off, you walked to the edge of the ship and peered down to see Din staring at the smoking spider.

The pirates at the mouth of the cave muttered quiet curses, one even swearing a soft, “They have fire?!” and ducked behind large ice drifts in the ensuing silence, their fear palpable as they took in the dead arachnid at the feet of the Mandalorian by the hands of the other Mandalorian.

You smirked. Hopefully this made them think twice before poking someone in beskar ever again. And maybe they would even spread the word to their sleazeball friends.

Watching the tendrils of smoke rise into the air from the corpse at Din’s feet, you kept your voice even. “No. I don’t think you want to know.”

Xxx

Once the shock had worn off for the pirates, the firefight had opened up again, more fast and furious than before.

You laid out on the top of the ship on your belly picking off stragglers who tried to cross the open space between ice drifts, Din laying down cover fire from his perch on the ramp to keep them pinned down. The errant spider here and there kept pulling your attention away, the fuel in both your vambrace and the blowtorch running low.

“Din, if I don’t finish this comm tower soon, we’re just kriff outta luck.”

“The hyperdrive should be charged by now, we could just make the jump.”

“Yeah but like you said, something goes wrong, as a friend of mine used to say, thatsa big pudu.”

“Did you just….”

“I’ll never say it again, I’m sorry. He was Gungan-”

“No, no…. You had a friend?”

Looking down at him over the edge of the Crest, you bent your wrist and let your whistling birds fly, taking out a wave of the pirates to give both of you a slight reprieve. As Din took a deep breath, it was cut short when something hit his helmet with a ting before landing at his feet and disappearing in the snow.

He looked up to you slowly. “Did you just…. Throw…. A….” Din looked down at the ground just to be sure. “Vibroblade at my head?” Bending down to his haunches, quickly, he scooped up the item, then rose to his feet as he stared at it. Din gave no other reaction as he stared at the item for a long moment in silence, until finally, he turned to hold your gaze with a dubious shake of his head.

“Yes,” you confirmed. “I knew what I was doing,” you defended. “You weren’t in any danger.”

He hesitated. “Except from the knife flying at my face!”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re wearing beskar. Don’t insult me next time, then.” You shrugged. “Simple solution, Djarin.”

Din took a step toward the hull of the Crest, his neck craning further back to keep looking up at you. “I’m the Mand’alor. That was attempted murder.”

You scoffed. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

His weight shifted to one side in annoyance. “Did you miss the word attempted?”

You pulled yourself on your belly further over the edge, and effectively closer to him, tilting your head to the right as you looked down at him wordlessly. Finally, after a long moment, your voice lowered to something both playful and menacing, causing Din to take a small step back, “If I wanted you dead, you would be.”

Several spiders dropped down between the ship and the pirates who were scrambling to reassemble into any kind of fighting order. After a moment of decision, they began to move toward the Crest.

Before either of you could start to shoot, Grogu stepped off the ramp and toward the bugs, holding one hand out.

“Kid!” Din cried, taking a step forward.

“Mando!” You tried, pulling him to a stop with just your voice. He glanced up at you quickly, and you shook your head before bobbing it toward the kid. “Look.”

When he turned back, Din saw that the spiders had stopped moving, deciding instead to gather round and stare at the tiny green creature.

His eyes were closed in concentration, his face screwed up in focus, until after a moment he blinked them open and gave a slight wave of his hand away as if to shoo a smell.

The spiders rocked side to side for a moment just slightly before they turned and surveyed the pirates.

The thieves who had been smiling at the exchange as if they’d won immediately melted into faces of worry and began backing away.

For each step back the spiders gained several forward until each group was running, one from the other, one to the first.

Din wasted no time, turned to you and said, “Finish it.”

“But I wanna see how it ends….” You groused, sighing at his head tilt in admonishment. “Fine.” Turning, you went back to the antenna, scuffing your foot on the hull of the ship. “Tell me who wins.”

With one last zap the comms were fixed, and the three of you were climbing into the ship, firing up the engines.

“Punch it!” You called, climbing up the ladder into the cockpit.

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Din mumbled, maneuvering the ship out of the cave.

As he slowly twisted and turned to move the hulking ship out of the ice, you nudged his shoulder while climbing into your seat beside him, flipping over to your controls. “You don’t fly right.”

“Well, somebody had to save our skins.”

Both of you looked at Grogu as you entered the upper atmosphere of the planet, finding him munching on spider eggs he somehow had stashed away in the cockpit for a rainy day.

You smiled. “Yeah. We both know who saved us back there.”

The two of you said at the same time, “Me.”

Looking at each other, you both spoke in unison once again, “What do you mean you?!”

Grogu sighed before he giggled softly, mumbling a tired but good natured, “Patu!”

Xxx

Tags: @lam-ila @oliviajdjarin @peonyophelia @what-the-heckin-heck @itsavicf @just-shut-up-kid @noodlesavailable @mildlyhopeless @multifandomsw @professionalfangrrl @tizylish @whoodattt @heyitsaloy @djarinsimp @athenasproverbs @achelois-is-here @snow30285 @jallen0126 @jxvipike @kodzuvk @untitledarea @crazyworldofsiani @adora-but-ginger @momc95 @babygirlrex0504 @sexysquatch @harriedandharassed @burningfieldof-clover @theclassicvinyldragon @heyitsjaybird What’s This?

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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years ago

Text

The Dream - Chapter Eight.

Ahhhh, besties! Thank you so much for your continued engagement on this :) we’re back to 40 notes to unlock the next chapter now as today is a single update. Hope you like it!

Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed (note: those not engaging will be automatically removed from the tag list, FYI)

Words - 3,552

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

The wind rushed by her as she navigated her board down the slope, Rachel a few feet over to her right as they hurtled faster in their trajectory, Keri coming to a small ramp and slowing, bending at the knee and clearing it with a little kick up, landing perfectly. Well, except for the tiny wobble in the aftermath.

She’d been a keen snowboarder since she was eight, loving the thrill of it, the freedom, the beautiful surroundings. She was very lucky, getting to live where she did. It certainly made Angel envious, as snowboarding was something she’d discovered he enjoyed, too, but only had access to dry slopes unless he travelled.

She was replying to a message from the man himself as she waited for her friends to arrive at the bottom of the slope when she felt a set of eyes over her shoulder.

“Ooooh, lookie!” Rachel cooed. “A heart eyes emoji from the sexy man!”

“Stop!” she softly admonished, sending her message and swiftly locking her phone.

“So, are you still banging the hell out of him in your dreams, then?” Rachel was the only other of her friends she’d told about Angel, her reaction as comical as she’d expected, Rachel her usual, ridiculously excitable self over it all.

“Yeah, it seems to be the common theme. In reality, though, we’re just friends.”

Rachel’s eyes rounded, her mouth dropping open. “Oh, oh yeah. Because just friends leave comments like he does on your Insta pics, telling you how cute you are, or how pretty you look!”

“Yeah, well,” Keri began shyly. “Some of it bleeds into a little flirting in reality. But definitely more from him. You know how shy I get. I am easing into it a little more, though, feeling a bit more comfortable. Some of the things I’ve talked about with him, my flirting back, yeah I can’t deny it. But I still think I’d try and hide, if he were ever in front of me in the flesh, regardless of how confidently I am with him while I’m asleep, or slowly becoming when awake.”

“I think it's really sexy, you know,” she mused, removing her goggles and adjusting the strap. “I mean, the things you do without ever so much as touching each other for real. That's sensuality right there.”

Keri began to blush as her smile widened. “He told me yesterday he'd never been so turned on by a dream before.”

“And what were you doing to evoke that?” Keri stalled in reply, Rachel giving her a thorough dig in the side with her elbow. “Come on, spill! It’s only me!”

“Tied him up and took a seat on his face.”

Rachel almost choked on her laughter. “Oooh, she nasty!”

“Stop!”

“Never! And fuck, when he comes up here, you two will be locked in a hotel room for days, I swear!”

Keri’s smile dropped a little after hearing those words. “Yeah, he hasn’t actually mentioned anything further about that, though.”

They took their boards from their feet as they saw Aaron and Frankie coming into view, ready to take the chair lift back to the top. “Well, you did mention that you’d told him of your shyness, so maybe he isn’t pushing that. He might be waiting for you to invite him?”

She hadn’t considered that before.

“I guess that’s a viable reason, yeah,” Keri replied, bursting into laughter as Aaron attempted to skid to a neat halt, but ended up on his ass. “You okay?”

“I’m glad to be a fuller figured dude in the ass department in times like this!” he called, Frankie arriving at his side and helping him up.

“You and that Kim K bubble butt!” She gave it several playful smacks, both getting themselves sorted before they headed to the lift. They decided to take a break once back at the top, getting a round of beers in, Keri carrying the drinks over on a tray.

“Easy there, calamity Joe!” Aaron teased, Keri coming to a halt a few steps from the table, her scowl cracking him up.

“I didn’t spill, see?” She gestured to the tray in her hands with a nod, continuing and placing it down neatly.

Aaron puckered his lips at her, taking his beer. “I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

She handed out the other beers, the tray being taken by one of the bar tenders doing a quick sweep of the outside area for glasses before she sat down. “I do not spill nearly as much as you guys claim.”

Aaron pushed his glasses back up his nose, entertainment widening his grin. “Your mom’s almond milk three days ago?”

“The stupid carton didn’t want to open!”

He snorted. “It certainly opened wide after you got the scissors onto it!” Her cheek chewing fury had him in mild fits, adding to her embarrassment. “David’s juice?”

“It came out unexpectedly quickly!” She finally began to laugh, remembering the fiasco with the pineapple juice flooding the counter, she and Aaron having to move quickly with towels, save Meryl’s beloved vegan cookbooks from becoming ruined.

“I won’t mention the shots at my twenty first.” He received a little, balled up fist in the shoulder for that, wrapping her in a hug. All talk of Keri’s propensity for spilling aside, they sat chatting, the girl herself becoming a little lost in her phone again for short periods, finding she had her second over the shoulder snoop that day.

“Who’s Angel?” Aaron asked, his voice full of curiosity.

“Hey, we’re just heading to the ski shop. I want some better socks, my boots are rubbing my heels,” Rachel interjected with, she and Frankie ambling off and leaving them to it.

As soon as they were gone, Aaron immediately turned back to her. “I’m waiting.”

“He’s a guy I’ve been talking to online,” she replied succinctly, which was partly true, at least.

“Let me see him, see if he has the male bestie seal of approval. That last guy you dated was shockingly fucking average!”

“He was not!” she cried. “He was a douchebag, but he was attractive.”

Aaron snorted. “He looked like a disassembled yak.”

Keri burst into hysterics immediately at the bizarreness of his likening. “Oh, and a disassembled yak has a particular appearance, does it?”

“Yeah, James!” Scratching his head full of curls, his laughter grew the more she tried to hang onto hers, eventually picking up her cell and finding a picture of Angel.

“There, that’s the guy.”

Aaron took her phone, shielding it from the glare of the bright sun. “Now he’s better. If I was that way inclined, I’d see the draw.” He then looked a little closer. “Keri, is that a kutte he’s wearing?”

“It is. He’s in the Mayans MC.”

He made a low noise in his throat, one she instantly read as disapproval. His words matched. “So, he’s a criminal. Nice.”

She failed to see how that was any of his business. “Um, you can’t prove that.”

“Oh yeah, I can. It’s common knowledge, K. Don’t be naïve. This guy you’re talking to? Scumbag, I guarantee it.”

She felt a little chill lick her heart at hearing those words, mainly because she knew that Angel was likely involved in enterprises that broke the law. “He isn’t a scumbag, he’s really nice to me.”

Aaron didn’t even attempt to hide his snort. “You wanna know how they make their money, those guys? They run drugs and arms. They kill people, they deal with cartels and terrorist organisations. Trust me. Scumbag. You’re a nice girl, you can do so much better.”

At hearing someone react towards Angel with hostility forced her hand in actually admitting, aloud, just how much she liked him. “Can’t you be at least a little happy for me that I’ve met someone I really like?” And she did. She really, really liked him.

“Nope, not gonna happen.” He was firm and resolute in his stance, but seeing her bewildered face made him soften a fraction. “I hope you see that my reasoning is because I love you to death, and I’m just looking out for you, right? And you haven’t even met him yet either! He’s just some dude online. Nah. Not gonna be happy for you.”

Keri felt a petulant storm raging within her, but swallowed hard. His words were coming from a place of care, she realised. It only hurt her because she didn’t want to hear them. She couldn’t tell him either, about how they’d really met, that connection they had, how it all seemed to be fated. She’d made her choice not to tell anyone else other than the people who already knew.

“Okay,” she breathed, taking her phone back and locking the screen, feeling deflated within, like her spark had been dampened. “I won’t mention him to you again.”

“Good.”

Frankie and Rachel picked up on the palpable atmosphere upon their arrival back at the table, one that seemed to last well into the afternoon. Aaron had returned to normal, but Keri couldn’t quite forgive him for bursting her little bubble of excitement regarding Angel. When it was just the two of them driving back, Keri giving Frankie a ride home, the latter inquired about it. She was then audience to a mildly irate display of venting.

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, beets, but I’ve been secretly concerned too, about the fact that he’s an outlaw.” Keri immediately opened her mouth to speak, Frankie holding her hand up. “However, what he does isn’t necessarily who he is. I’m prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt, but really, it isn’t up to anyone else, what we think of him. It’s up to you. You have to trust your own judgement and by extension – but within reason – so do we.”

“Thank you,” she began, signalling to turn right, beeping her horn at someone who cut her off. “All of this has been so crazy, but I appreciate you having that stance.”

If only everyone could be as accepting that Keri, as a young adult, was capable of exercising caution and using her own judgement.

“Boyfriend?” David asked, nodding in the direction of Keri’s phone when her message alert sounded, sitting with him and her mom eating dinner later that evening.

“He’s not my boyfriend, stop it,” she chided softly. “But yeah, it’s him.”

Meryl paused in chewing her mouthful of pasta, looking between them. “I didn’t know you were dating someone?”

“I’m not, just getting to know someone I met online,” Keri replied.

Meryl felt a little affronted by that. “Oh, and you told David before me?”

“Well, not to be rude, mom, but you can be a little uptight about things like this.”

Her mom cocked her head, her eyebrows knitting. “I think I have perfect reason to be where online dating is concerned. There are all these guys out there catfishing, predators, other unsavoury types! How do you even know he is who he says he is?”

“Instagram stories don’t lie.”

“He could have stolen them from someone else,” she reasoned, Keri sighing.

“The guy has a whole profile of pictures and videos,” David began, having seen one a few days previously that Keri was laughing at, a compilation of the MC guys all punking each other with various gags that Angel had shared on his page. “It would be more effort than the average catfishing guy with a few stolen photos and an otherwise blank and sparse profile puts into his ruse.”

Meryl seemed more convinced by that. “Alright. So, tell me about him, then?”

“His name is Angel, he works in scrap metal, lives in Santo Padre in Southern California. He’s into fitness and motorbikes, likes a lot of the same music I do, and he’s really nice.”

She could feel the next question practically burning her mother’s tongue. “How old is he?”

Keri shared a fleeting glance with David, bracing herself. “Thirty-six.”

“He’s how old?”

She covered her eyes with her hand, shrinking down a little in her seat. “Thar, she blows.”

“Damn right, thar, she blows!” Meryl exclaimed. “Keri, he’s too old for you!”

“Fourteen years isn’t so bad, babe,” David chimed in with. “I’m twelve years older than you, after all.”

“Yes, but I was thirty-two when we got together, not twenty-two!”

“Mom, I’m an adult now, not a child,” she attempted to reason, thankful to have David in her corner.

“She’s right, Mer. She’s not a kid any longer, and if she wants to pursue something with this guy, then you can’t really stop her, can you?”

“Oh yes, I fucking can! She’s still under our roof!” Shovelling in another forkful of vegan pesto-laden pasta, Meryl stared at her daughter, picking up her wine and taking a sip. Keri had never seen anyone be able to pull off aggressive eating quite like her mother before.

David worked his usual coolness to de-escalate his other half. “Come on, hon. She’s just talking to the guy so far. She hasn’t even met him yet.”

“And she won’t, either!”

“Mom, stop talking about me like I’m not sitting right across from you, please,” Keri began, taking a deep breath and a sip of her apple juice. “David’s right, I haven’t met him yet, but if I want to then you can’t stop me from doing that.”

“Why are you interested in a guy that lives so far away, anyway?” She knew she’d likely change track when presented by reasonable facts.

“Liking someone isn’t dictated by their geographical location,” she reasoned. “Life can’t be perfect like that for everyone, you know. Besides, it’s only a short flight away.”

Meryl was quiet then for a while, the family continuing their dinner in silence. The cogs in her brain could almost be heard as they ticked, though.

“And I definitely think you can do better than some deadbeat who works at a scrap metal yard!”

Keri dropped her fork onto her plate somewhat dramatically, picking up her juice. “And this is why I tell David things before I do you. You have a habit of making everything difficult, mom. Always coming from a place of negativity.”

“I do not!”

Keri slid from her seat with a sigh, David reaching out to gently halt her.

“Come on, little. Finish your dinner.”

She shook her head. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

He nodded, wiping his mouth on a napkin. “Okay, I’ll put it in a tub in the fridge for you, in case you’re hungry later.”

She thanked him, leaving the room, just about able to hear him tell her mom that he thought she was being unnecessarily hard on her as she trudged up the stairs. Flopping down on her bed, she grabbed her laptop and called up the pages of her portfolio, beginning to mess around with things here and there, making notes where she needed to, thinking about the future that was literally just around the corner for her now, so close to ending her time at college.

Whereas Frankie definitely saw her future in graphic design, Keri wanted to be the person to take pictures of the moments that held memories for people. Weddings, christenings, name days, baby showers, modelling photo shoots, everything that involved giving someone something special that they could treasure forever. She was in demand, too, having to turn down a lot of work around her part time job and hard studies as she crept towards her degree reaching culmination.

That night, though, she was feeling too awash with the negativity of others to focus on her work for long, thinking it lucky that the night before she’d put in so many hours on various parts of her latest module to complete, so she could allow herself a little breathing space. It also meant she was free to agree to a suggestion delivered to her Instagram messages a short while after she’d gotten comfortable, lying on her bed playing a little design game she had, all her candles lit and music playing softly, working well to restore her serenity.

‘I was about to call you, but it’s just occurred to me that I have FaceTime, and I ain’t ever used it to chat with you. Thought I’d check first, give you some time to likely panic about your makeup or some shit.’

Yes, he was definitely getting to know her little quirks, as that was exactly something she’d likely feel anxiety over. Scrambling off her bed, she quickly checked her appearance, noting that her nose and forehead were a little shiny, so blotting with some powder, re-lining her eyes and topping up her bronzer before replying.

‘Yeah, that’d be nice!’

Twenty seconds later...

“Hey pretty girl.”

“Hey you, how’ve you been?”

“Busy, so excuse the fact I probably look like shit.” He didn’t. He looked so damned gorgeous, her heart wouldn’t stop fluttering. “You look sad, though. What’s up?”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “People being too opinionated.”

“Yeah? How come?” She did, explaining the opinions of Aaron and her mom, how she knew they were coming from a place of care, but how they’d also made her feel quite childish in the wake of voicing them, like that was how they viewed her still.

Angel was casual in his response. “Eh, at least let them meet me first before they decide to dislike me. I ain’t looking to please them, though. Just you.” He watched her beginning to beam before swiftly hiding her face against her arm. “Keri, come back out.”

Finally, she emerged, smiling, but still looking a little dejected. “Don’t let anyone else’s bullshit get you down, no matter how well-meaning it might be.”

“Hmm.”

“Do I gotta come up there and act a fuckin’ clown to cheer you up?”

“Seven hundred and something miles is a little far just for the purposes of cheer,” she replied, Angel shrugging.

“Well, if you ain’t busy late next week, I could swing it.” Oh god, he was serious!

“You seriously want to come up?” she asked, watching him pull a face full of incredulity.

“Well, yeah. I did mention it to you not long ago. Kinda been waiting for you to follow up on it, but it looks like I gotta do all the work here, don’t it?”

Her cheeks felt warm again in an instant.

“Don’t you hide! I see you over there, going pink!” Her response to that was scrunching her eyes shut tightly, squeaking a little.

“Can I check to see if I can get cover for work on Saturday and get back to you?” He said that was fine, Keri ending the call and quickly calling up Stuart, one of her workmates, asking if he minded swapping his Wednesday and Thursday evening with her for Saturday. He agreed, Keri quickly sending a message to Margot, their boss, who honestly didn’t mind who worked when, as long as the shifts were covered, nice, laid-back lady that she was, before opening FaceTime again.

“Well, that’s me free,” she revealed, Angel smiling.

“Cool. I just checked too and I’m good to free myself as of Thursday afternoon, just gotta find a flight and a hotel,” he confirmed. With everything in the club fairly sedate in pace at that moment in time, Bishop told him that being out for a weekend was no problem, just to show up on Thursday morning at the yard to put in some work before he was free for the next few days.

“You might have a problem there, since it’s ski season and Provo is fucking rammed with tourists,” she began. “Hey, if you don’t mind staying on the world’s comfiest pull out, Frankie won’t mind putting you up at her place. I’m there most weekends anyway.”

He was about to tell her not to worry about putting her friend out, until something occurred to him. Meeting a new guy for the first time, regardless of their unique circumstances and time spent together in their dreams, she might feel more secure with her friends there close rather than being completely alone with him at night. Angel didn’t always read between the lines so well, but in this instance, he did with crystal clarity.

“Yeah, that’d be cool. Ask her and let me know, alright?” She knew that the answer would be a definite yes, with how hospitable Frankie and Jaime were, but promised she would all the same. They chatted for a while longer before ending the call, Keri pushing her face into the comforter and squeaking with excitement, before calling the one person she knew would share in that with her.

“See, fucking see? Told you he’s into you, beets!” Frankie exclaimed, excited for her friend.

“Yeah, yeah alright. You might be right,” she conceded, finger combing her hair and tying it with a scrunchie, ready to go and shower before bed.

Frankie snorted, picking up her cigarettes and lighting up, putting her on speaker, her free hand busying itself by being a dutiful girlfriend and rubbing Jaime’s feet for her. “I am right, and you know it. And it’s totally fine for him to crash here, I’m looking forward to meeting him, but not half as much as you, huh?”

Oh no. She couldn’t deny her excitement there.

#angel reyes #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes smut #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes x ofc #angel reyes fanfic #angel reyes fic #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc smut #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fic

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taro-666 · 1 year ago

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Posting for my second giftee in the @pedrostories 2023 gift exchange! :-D

Merry Christmas!

My giftee: @5oh5 ! | I hope you can forgive me for being extremely late with this one, from battling a nasty infection in my lungs to forgetting my iPad at home while traveling…. I present to you the first part ( out of 3) of Retrograde!

I really hope you enjoy the start of this mini series, it originally was going to be in one part but then I thought up a little more and liked this idea for you after reading some of your works, in which 🥹🥹🥹 you are so very talented! So again, please enjoy, and happy holidays my friend🎄🎄🎄💗

Din Djarin x fem reader!

Word count: 1.2k

Rating: nothing explicit in this chapter but pls minors do not interact!

Retrograde

Part 1 of 3

Din was soaking wet. It wasn’t quite raining, but the air was heavy with mist so thick that it dripped from the worn leather that covered his fingers. Din turned his helmet to face you as he fastened a bolt into its place. For the past few hours, the two of you had been working side by side, tinkering with wires, adjusting settings, and troubleshooting on the Razor Crest. And now, as the sun began to set and the last bolts were tightened, you both stepped back to admire your handiwork.

“Took all day, but it looks like we managed to fix everything!” You said with a smile, wiping the beaded water off your goggles.

Din admired your ability to stay positive despite the setback of needing to have an emergency stop on an unfamiliar planet "Thanks for your help. I don’t know what I’d do without you." He replied.

Your heart swelled at his words and you smiled back at him, feeling a sense of satisfaction at having found a solution to the tricky wiring inside the panel. "No problem," you replied. "I'm just glad we could get it done before nightfall."

Din nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we don't want to be stuck in this forest any longer than we have to be." He gestured towards the dense trees surrounding them.

Grogu cooed from the inside of his pram, “I think he agrees.” You giggled, bending down to pack up your tools.

He watched as you carefully stowed away your tools, your hands moving deftly as you secured everything in its proper place. He tried to ignore these feelings, telling himself that he needs to focus on the task at hand and that he couldn't afford any distractions. As you made your way back to the entrance of the ship, Din couldn't help but notice how you moved.

Graceful and with a confidence that belied your stature. He wondered what it would be like to hold you in his arms, to feel your body pressed up against his. Fingers intertwined and your breath against his neck.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. This was not the time or the place for such fantasies. They had a job to do, and he couldn't let his emotions get in the way. But as you worked side by side, his desire grew stronger with each passing day.

You lifted Grogu into your arms and made your way up the ramp, his pram following closely behind you. The child flashed a contagious toothy grin and you gently massaged his ear.

“Ohhh” you cooed “Someone is excited to get moving again!” Grogu squealed, his big glossy eyes locked onto yours.

Din watched the interaction between the two of you endearingly. You were so good with the kid. He remembered the day you met him, almost instantly Grogu had taken a liking to you; and without the presence of food at that. He made his way up the cockpit to set course to the next planet: Nevarro, to turn in this round of bounties.

As the ship took off, you watched the forest planet disappear beneath you. You take a deep breath, letting the air fill your lungs, and feel a sense of relief. Another successful batch. The bounties were becoming more and more dangerous so you were glad Din had made it through almost completely unscathed. Hopefully it stayed this way.

Din doesn't say much as you travel; which may not be saying much since he is usually quiet but, this time you catch him looking at you a few times, and you can’t help but wonder what he's thinking.

As you approach the dry ashen world, Din turns in the automatic landing controls and finally breaks his silence. "We'll be landing soon," he says, his sudden voice making you jump slightly.

“Just in time, I made a list of things we should restock while we can.” You tapped a few buttons on your datapad to display the make-shift inventory list you decided to create. “That’s- not necessary.” He replied promptly.

Your fingers froze and your head turned towards him slowly, your brows furrowing together as you shot him a confused look. You opened your mouth to try and explain but were cut off, “You’re staying in the cockpit until they finish unloading the bounties.” He spoke with his back facing you, “You don’t have to worry about the kid.” He added. His fingers tapped a series of buttons on his vambrace. He made his way out of the cockpit, Grogus pram following him closely.

You sat there in disbelief for a few minutes, it wasn’t until the ship started its bumpy landing sequence that you snapped back from your daze, bracing yourself on the arm rests. What the fuck? you thought to yourself. Your hands trembled slightly as your fingers gripped around the data pad. You didn’t know what to think or feel, just half a day ago he was talkative and then spent the last few hours stealing glances at you, but he was being so cold now of all times? You sighed loudly and crossed your arms over your chest, allowing yourself to sink into the seat.

Even after the carbonite slabs were unloaded you stayed inside the cockpit, anxiously awaiting the mandalorians return. You tried your best to keep it off your mind, but before you knew it, your brain had conjured up some ridiculously complex reasons as to why his attitude could have shifted so much.

You sat there for a few hours until he returned, only getting up to stretch out your legs momentarily. By that time your emotions had calmed a substantial amount, it wasn’t anger that lingered but rather a slight sadness and fear that he might dismiss you from your position. You jumped at the sound of the ramp descending, you looked around almost as if you wanted to crawl up into the flight control panel and hide. But you couldn’t. So you did the next best thing which was to stay put. You listened carefully to Din shifting things about in the hull, you smiled to yourself hearing Din speak to Grogu.

After a moment Din finally came back up into the cockpit, you purposefully stared straight, not paying him any mind. He easily could tell you were still pissed, rightfully so. He immediately started the take off sequence, he carefully punched in some coordinates before sitting down. He was looking at you for some time before deciding to drop it. You felt embarrassed for how you were acting, you always thought yourself to be reasonable and level headed . But this whole ‘feelings’ thing has thrown you completely out of whack.

Neither of you wanted to address the current tension that had formed. It was a lot of whiplash; suddenly realizing your new feelings for him, and then him treating you so coldly. It all happened so quickly. It was as if one day you woke up and saw him in an entirely different light, no longer was he just the man you worked for. Now you had hoped it could evolve into something more. But for that to happen one of you needed to break the silence, and out of pettiness you also decided that it was not going to be you.

#pedrostoriesgift23 #din djarin x reader

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sayurifellfrost · 4 months ago

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Prompt #2: Horizon

Character: S’vexrha Tchuma

Age: 10

Why did she have to run off? Did she not realise how much trouble she’d be in when they got their hands on her again?

Matoyan’s brows were knit with worry, gaze scanning the area as he walked the path leading to the next town. He had volunteered to aid in the search, and opted for the area surrounding Horizon, even if he had swiftly been mocked for the mere suggestion that the girl would run that far. He knew better, after having tried to bond with the young girl and offer her even the smallest amount of comfort and kindness that could be afforded in the compound - he knew she’d run to the other end of Eorzea, if she was able to.

His steps led him past the entrance to Horizon, where he stopped to let his gaze wander the settlement below. Traders, workers and Brass Blades littered the town, supply filled carts lined up along the streets - serving as potential cover for the runaway Seeker.

A Hellsguard clad in Brass Blade attire made his way up the ramp to where Matoyan was stood, subtly placing himself by the Hrothgar while gazing out into the wilderness beyond instead.

“Lookin’ for somethin’?”

The question tore Matoyan from his own thoughts, head turning to stare at the Hellsguard.

“..Pardon?”

“Wonderin’ if you’re lookin’ for somethin’.” The Hellsguard paused, raising a hand up to lightly tap at his own, right cheek. “.. Or maybe it’s someone, eh?”

The Hrothgar’s stare sharpened significantly at the motion, knowing full well that the Hellsguard meant the red mark that clung to his own cheek. One of the Blades in Grymathyn’s pocket, no doubt. He didn’t like the thought of asking one of them for help, but.. Gods knew where she could’ve gone, or if she was even there.

“.. A girl.” He muttered hesitantly.

“Plenty o’those ‘round, yeah?”

Matoyan sighed, letting his features pull into a frown.

“.. Seeker lass. Red eyes, short black hair with red streaks, about this tall.” He leveled his hand barely up to his own waist. “.. Real scrawny, probably in a hurry. Same mark on her cheek.”

“Hmm.” The Hellsguard hummed thoughtfully, then shook his head. “Nope. Ain’ seen her.”

With that, he simply turned and descended the ramp, leaving Matoyan with a nigh dumbfounded expression on his features. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be irritated or relieved at the Blade’s lack of interest.

Then again.. He was certainly hoping to find her before anyone else did.

Just as he was about to turn and leave, he caught movement in the corner of his eye, black and red swiftly disappearing behind the water well crammed into a corner of the settlement. Slowly, he made his way down the ramp and towards it, ensuring to keep his steps light and careful. Once close enough to peek over the well, his features softened.

She was sat balled up, legs pressed into her own body and face buried against her knees, tail tucked in close and ears glued back flatly atop her skull. His ears caught the faintest little whimpers that she was desperately trying to keep quiet, her small frame trembling with fear.

“.. Vex..”

He spoke softly, yet the girl flinched violently upon hearing his voice so close - making her unfurl from her balled up position and flames to flicker in a short burst around her as she tore herself around and crawled backwards a few steps - her tear filled gaze locked upon the Hrothgar, wide and brimming with fear. He hushed softly, lowering himself into a crouch.

“It’s alright, Vex.. It’s just me. You know I won’t hurt you.”

She calmed just a touch, legs slowly tugged back up and into her body as she retook her previous position, but kept her head up to glance at Matoyan instead.

“..You know I have to bring you back, yeah..?”

“..N-no..” She whimpered, sniffling weakly. “..P-please..”

His own ears wilted, gaze lowering. Bringing her back to the compound was among the last things he wanted to do, yet there was no other choice. If he didn’t convince her to return, others would find her.. and be significantly less kind about it, and her punishment for running away much worse.

“I don’t want them to hurt you, sweetheart.” He spoke quietly.

“B-but they will..!”

“It will be worse if they have to haul you back, you know this.”

Vex’s tears finally spilled, arms tightening around her knees and face burying into them anew as she fought the sobs in her throat. Matoyan frowned, reaching his hand over to gently smooth it over the back of the girl’s head, hushing softly. He hated seeing her so sad and afraid, wanting to do nothing more than protect her from the hellscape they were both stuck in.. But he couldn’t. Especially not since Ariq took great pleasure in tormenting the poor child.

“..I will tell them you changed your mind. That you found me and regretted running away. Your punishment will be less severe, I promise.”

She only lift her head enough to stare at him, her tears carving neat little paths down the dirt that clung to her cheeks, biting back her sobs. Her stare returned to the ground, as she slowly pushed herself up to stand, with Matoyan slowly rising with her. He carefully reached to grasp her hand, guiding her along and towards Horizon’s exit.

He couldn’t protect her completely, but if there was a chance that he could ensure a kinder consequence for her.. He would. Even if he himself had to take it in her stead.

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2024 #S'vexrha Tchuma #ic #ffxiv #writing

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writingquestionsanswered · 1 year ago

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How do I plot out an arc that connects two major ones together?

To clarify, there are two major arcs I planned out for my story, but I realised that the arcs don't work consecutively.

My characters need time to deal with the events of the first major arc, and they need time to see the signs of the next major conflict.

How do I plot out the arc to bridge the two big ones together?

Connecting Two Major Arcs

It depends on the type of story you're writing... but if you're writing a novel, novels don't have two major arcs. Novels are structured like this:

If you have more than one story arc in a novel, you probably have more than one novel on your hands.

If you really feel it needs to be one novel, rather than connecting the two different arcs, you would want to find a way to combine them into a single arc. Or, you could tone down one of the arcs and make it a subplot. See: Story Arc (Main Plot) vs Subplot

If you're writing long fiction that's not a novel, such as fan-fiction, a round-robin with friends, or something experimental, I would think you'd really not want a whole arc connecting the two bigger arcs, but rather a smaller section mimicking a denouement that ramps up into the setup of the next arc. So, in other words, a scene or a few where the characters deal with the aftermath of the first arc (as they would in any denouement) and then a scene or a few where they see the signs of the next conflict and the pieces are moved into place for that inciting incident.

I hope that helps!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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thepeachyouhadtopick · 1 year ago

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ANYTHING BUT ORDINARY | CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

It's the day of Ell's gig, and Johnny and their friends do everything they can to build her confidence.

Thanks again for the lovely feedback on the last chapter! Lots of sweet moments from Johnny in this chapter that is mainly about Ell. Stay tuned for the next few parts as the drama is ramping up again before the gang leave London.

I've also linked the songs included in the chapter below - all credit goes to the original writers and I'm not claiming them as my own, but do check out the versions of each song I picked as I love them.

CW for mention of oral sex, unprotected sex, abusive messages, alcohol.

Taglist: @lizey-thornberry @babybammargera @zolofts (let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!)

The transition from dream into reality was one thing that often made Ell feel uneasy. Often, where she felt happy and safe in her slumber, waking up brought her fantasies crashing down, as the grotty, miserable real world shifted into focus. Not lately, though. Opening her eyes this morning and feeling the comfortable weight of Johnny’s arm across her ribs, his bare torso pressed up against her naked form, well, she may have been dreaming for all she knew. She still hadn’t quite got used to starting the day in such a perfect manner. Often waking just before he did, she usually took the opportunity to watch her boyfriend sleeping peacefully, admiring his handsome features, his chest rising and falling gently, soft snores occasionally falling from his mouth. Ell really could just stay in this perfect bubble forever. Nuzzling her face into his chest, Ell hoped for a few minutes of extra sleep before her alarm went off. They hadn’t had a particularly late night, leaving the bar well before everyone else, but Johnny had well and truly worn her out once they’d got back. His personal challenge of trying to make Ell orgasm as many times in one night as he could had reached a new record - something he had been particularly proud of - and after two hours spent with his face between her legs, they both fell asleep at the end of a round of slow, gentle, passionate sex.

#johnny knoxville #jackass #mtv jackass #steve-o #johnny knoxville fic #johnny knoxville / original female character #johnny knoxville fluff #jackass fic #pj clapp

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sanstropfremir · 2 years ago

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I saw the comment on your last ask and wanted to ask what's your 5th gen theory? I know that for me actually looking at the years 5th gen should have started already but it feels like we're still in 4th gen because no one other than a few girl groups have blown up the way that 3rd groups both boy and girl had and anyone who has gotten popular has been in last year or two. Making a big three comparison exo in their 3rd or 4th year was in a very different place than stray kids or treasure now

fifth gen HAS already started! just not where or how you would think. and for clarity's sake: i don't categorize gens by group popularity, and that would be a moot point anyways because the success of previous gen groups is never going to be replicated on the same scale because of how dramatically the industry has changed.

my fifth gen theory is this: there's already starting to be a generation change in the last year, but it's being lead by smaller companies who are unable to sustain the current fourth gen performance model, and subsequently there's either going to be a delayed transition where the big four companies will be the last to debut fifth gen groups, OR there's going to be a full split where big four and other well funded companies can keep producing groups in the fourth gen method, while every other smaller group has an entirely different performance method.

the main characteristic of fourth gen has been very strong and heavy dance skills paired with difficult choreography, on a scale that's much more extreme than previous gens. although a lot of third gen choreography was probably harder on its idols' bodies thanks to the acrobatics, third gen idols were still trained as well rounded performers and were able to transition smoothly out of their stuntmen eras and still be able to maintain their group's artistic identity. in order for companies to ramp up the spectacle factor from this, instead of tricking + stunts they prioritized technically difficult dance, which has translated into the bulk of fourth gen idols being by large, probably the most technically skilled generation of dancers. however, like i've said in previous asks, that has come as a detriment to pretty much every other skill that used to be trained into idols. making the sacrifice of dance vs singing is fine for companies that have the funds to support having big spectacular cbs and have large stable fanbases that consume uncaringly, but it's more of a problem with smaller companies who are getting priced out of being able to afford cbs to even hope to match the scale that fans are coming to expect. so as a result, they're going back to training their idols as more holistic performers and simplifying choreography. i know a lot of people are not paying attention to the rookie bgs but a lot of the ones from the last year and change have been a totally different calibre of performer than the established fourth gen groups, and it's likely to continue that way. my hypothesis is that the last company to catch on fifth gen is going to be the next jype bg, and how they perform is going to be the indication of if there's going to be a staggered transition or a full split.

#fourth gen has been the shortest gen (only 2-3 yrs) bc its such an unsustainable performance style #you can already see some of the big groups falling off in terms of ability + consistency #the shape of fifth gen is probably gonna look like a combo of second and third gen #kpop questions #sm groups almost always lead a gen transition without actually being part of the gen itself #see: tvxq (i subscribe to jaejoong's theory that they're gen 1.5) exo and nct #and they've lead into fifth gen again with aespa #sm has also always holistically trained their idols so tbh i would argue that sm has NO fourth gen groups actually #but all of aespa's choreo has been really heavy on second gen style point moves and throwback imagery #which has been picked up by a LOT of other groups #and some groups are pulling references from early third gen (like fifty fifty billlie trendz + just b)#anyways #no guarantees any of this actually plays out im just speculating based on what i've seen #also ppl always say that fourth gens are just nct knockoffs but they are NOT!#we are likely actually to see more fifth gen groups be nct knockoffs than fourth gen ones bc fifth gen groups will actually have the skills #to do so. see tempest dragon and atbo attitude #text #answers

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breelandwalker · 2 years ago

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Shop Update

Feels good to get things straightened out to the point that I can actually prep for the summer market season! I've got three events coming up almost back-to-back starting in two weeks and the shop orders are ramping up. I've been putting off restocking certain things for a while now, since all my witchy earnings have been going toward things like vet bills and car repairs.

This past week, I was finally able to put in restock orders for books and buttons, and to order the next round of vinyl stickers I've been meaning to get for months. The new button and sticker designs will be up in the shop in the coming weeks.

The next bit on the agenda is restocking the components for the witch kits, including some new iterations I've been wanting to make. These are mostly related to additional colors, specialty floss for weaving, and more herb options.

I'm still working on the logistics, but I'm hoping to eventually offer upgrades for the starter kits in the form of additional pieces or purpose-focused component packs.

I'm also planning to add a special option to the shop inspired by a recent order - the "One of Everything" package, which will include one of every item in the shop for a fixed price, shipping included, plus a special thank-you gift that will only come with that item. It won't be cheap, but it will be worth it.

These are plans for later in the year though. For the upcoming weeks, I mostly just want to make sure I have enough items in stock to make good sales, since we're still trying to get our air conditioning fixed, and try to get the next few podcast episodes finished.

One day at a time. 😊

#bree in real life #Willow Wings Witch Shop

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foreveralwaysanauthor · 2 years ago

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Wrap It Up

December 25, 2022

Prompt - Merry Christmas

Notes - Merry Christmas! I hope you have an amazing day and that you get to spend it with the people you love <3 This is a little bit of a Christmas Eve birthday thing for Mick mixed with a Christmas Day prompt, but I hope you enjoy it all the same.

High-pitched shots were fired, the screeching sound piercing through the silence and forcing a select few to crouch behind piles of rubble and barely constructed walls to stay out of sight. Brave blue eyes scanned the room from a little hole made in a crumbling turret wall, spotting a blue chest plate glowing from behind a nearby ramp. The person’s chest heaved with uneasy breath as they tried to hide from their assailants, but a flash of green caught the onlooker’s attention and her grip on her weapon tightened. Peering over the turret wall, Carrie’s intense, focused eyes stared down the barrel of her gun as she took a long, deep breath and slowly let it out. Her aim landed on the enemy’s green chest plate, the sighting laser on top of her gun beaming a direct path to the center of the plate. Without a moment of hesitation, her well-manicured finger tugged on the trigger, a high-pitched sound echoing as her shot landed on the person’s chest, turning their chest plate light red and deactivating their weapon.

An aggravated noise that sounded a lot like it came from Lela split the air as the raven-haired girl stalked her way away from the teenager and ran for cover. Royce’s curly head of brown hair whipped around so he could see his rescuer, giving the blonde a thumbs-up as thanks before grabbing his laser gun from where he had dropped it and ducking into the nearest structure. Crouching back behind the wall, Carrie glanced at the teammate who had been guiding her throughout the entire game, Vivien’s proud smile and cheerful nod telling the blonde she had done the right thing. Hearing another myriad of shots on the other side of the room, Vivien pulled Carrie close and whispered that she was going to split off and try to make the other team think she had the flag.

Carrie nodded and watched Vivien slide down the inside of the turret before making her way over the top of the turret to a bridge, running across it in a daring attempt to gain ground on the other team and hide the neon flag in her back pocket. The laser tag teams had been decided on the way to the arcade for Mick’s birthday - Carrie, Vivien, Royce, Brady, and Mick had decided to be on the blue team while Bentley, Miles, Mack, Lela, and Butchy found themselves on the green team. The person in charge of the laser tag arena had given the two team captains - Butchy and Mick - the two flags for their teams before telling them that, to win the game, they needed to sneak into the other team’s hideout and raise the flag on their pole. Mick had handed the flag off to Royce who was timed out by Bentley, the younger brother showing no remorse as he cackled and snatched the flag away. In return, Bentley was shot by Vivien who stole the flag back and ran, hiding out in the turret with Carrie where she handed the flag off to the blonde. With her duty to protect the flag in the back pocket of her jeans keeping her on edge, Carrie glanced around the room from her hiding spot and was sure that, if she ran through the back side of the arena, she could reach the glowing flagpole on the back wall without getting caught. All they would need was to find Miles and take the other team’s flag from him.

As she rounded the edge of the wall she was hiding behind, a firm grip on her wrist jolted her back into the area she had just vacated. Carrie’s head whirled around to meet Miles’ determined stare. Pulling her towards him and using his momentum to swing her around, Miles pressed Carrie’s back firmly against the fake brick wall at the back of the arena; one hand pressing into the wall next to her head and the other on her hip, effectively pinning her in place. Carrie looked up at Miles with wide, disbelieving eyes as he looked down at her with a cocky smirk she would have loved to wipe off of him, a thick, competitive air settling between them.

While it was wonderful to see Miles’ competitive side, his drive to win kicking into overdrive, Carrie was sure that the sheer adrenaline rush that came from the risk of getting caught by the members of her team seemed to have rushed to his head. Miles glanced down at her briefly and noticed that she still had a few imaginary rounds in the gun loosely grasped in her right hand that she had seemingly forgotten about as he stared at her intensely.

"Tell me," Miles rumbled, their increasing closeness and the dark tone in his voice unknowingly causing Carrie’s skin to break out in goosebumps, "where are you hiding that flag?"

Carrie could feel the heat trying to flood her face as Miles leaned even further into her personal space, but she tried her best to hide it. Deciding to use Miles’ tactic against him, Carrie’s eyelids slid halfway closed, offering him something akin to a seductive smirk in the neon glow that radiated from their chest plates. "I don't divulge my secrets to the enemy," she said in mock seriousness, lowering her voice to a murmur, "I guess you'll just have to search me for it if you want it so badly."

An amused chuckle made its way up Miles’ throat at her words. She was playing with him now and he knew it, but he wasn’t willing to back down. Miles knew the enemy team’s flagpole was only a few yards away and that all he had to do was find where the flag was on her body and make a break for it, but he could care less at that moment. He was far too distracted having the beautiful blonde wedged between himself and the wall. His eyes wandered from Carrie’s, searching her for the bright flag she had hidden as he asked, “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

“That depends,” Carrie smirked, “are you going to grow a pair and search me, or am I just going to have to take your precious flag and run?”

With a smirk, Miles kept his eyes locked on Carrie as he spoke, "It seems you leave me little choice." With that, he found himself completely unable to resist pressing his lips against hers; relishing in her small gasp of surprise as he did so. As they came up for air, Miles’ left hand moved from the wall to the back of Carrie’s neck to anchor himself as they sank right back into another kiss. His right hand rested tentatively on her hip before sliding it around to the small of her back, pulling her to him. It was there that something soft grazed against the side of his hand. Lowering his hand to investigate, Miles realized that it was the blue flag that he was supposed to take from her. It had been tucked into the pocket of her bell-bottom jeans in an attempt to keep it hidden, but the soft fabric couldn’t entirely fit inside the small pocket. This made him smile against her mouth, splitting their kiss for a moment.

"I hate to inform you," Miles murmured in a confident breath, "but I believe you just lost."

In the span of a few seconds, all of Miles’ confidence was eradicated as Carrie completely ignored his statement, instead uttering what sounded like, “Shut up,” before she lifted her hand and entangled it in his hair, pulling him back down to her and crashing her mouth on his once more. Miles found himself stunned, his eyes widened in surprise before relaxing against his girlfriend and letting her do whatever she wanted. Their mouths pressed together as firmly as they could, eliciting an unexpected, almost embarrassing moan from Miles as Carrie pressed forward into him; pushing herself off of the wall as her mouth moved slowly against his. After a while, they came up for air as though they hadn’t breathed in a century and it was then that Miles noticed they had switched places, Carrie pressing him against the dark back corner of the arena.

Carrie's hand slowly released Miles’ hair and glided across his chest before dragging down to his waist and around to the small of his back, mirroring what he had done to her. However, where he had stopped at the small of her back, her hand continued to trail downwards; eventually sliding into the back pocket of the denim jeans he wore. Miles was so intoxicated by his girlfriend, her lips, and her actions, that he didn’t seem to notice her fingers locating the folded fabric in his back pocket as she parted their lips and smirked up at him.

"Actually, hotshot," she breathed smugly, "it's you who just lost…"

Before Miles could stop his head from swimming and make sense of her words, Carrie pulled her hands from his back pockets - flag and all - and used her fully recharged laser gun to take Miles out of the game for the next fifteen seconds. The piercingly shrill sound of his armor being tagged and turning red dragged Miles back to the present as Carrie darted away from him, laughing violently as she ran. Suddenly, it all made sense; she had been playing with him as a distraction… a beautiful and very effective distraction, but a distraction nonetheless.

With an amused smirk appearing on his face, Miles pushed off the wall and gave chase. "Carrie!" Miles called, running as fast as his feet would carry him, hoping to capture her before she reached the flagpole in their base. However, Carrie was already too far ahead and, as Miles rounded the doorway into their base, Carrie clipped the two flags to the pole and screamed out her victory for all of her team to hear. Miles groaned in defeat as the rest of the blue team emerged, cheering victoriously from their scattered positions in the arena. They had won.

The rest of Mick��s birthday was spent in the bowling alley and arcade the laser tag place was located in, something she had specifically asked to do despite the many offers from her local friends to go out drinking or partying now that she was twenty-one. She simply wanted to be with family and have fun, not get drunk in public and lose all of her perfectly intact inhibitions. After completely annihilating Miles in a game of pool and beating Butchy at darts despite having no clue how to play properly, Mick chose to bowl with her family, splitting the group in half once again - this time girls versus boys - and sitting at the lanes next to each other as they registered their names in the screens overhead.

A few rounds went by, some players bowling seriously while others added some silliness or dramatic flair to their turns at the end of the lane. After rolling an eight, Vivien made her way back to her seat next to Mick and shook her head with a smile, “Y’know, I don’t think anyone can do a seven-ten split the right way.”

“Not even professional bowlers?” Mick questioned with an eyebrow raised.

“Nah,” Vivien shook her head. “They probably have someone behind the scenes knocking them over with a stick or something.”

Mick shook her head with a smile, “I think you just suck at bowling.”

“I mean, yeah,” Vivien agreed, “but that’s beside the point.”

The two shared a laugh before turning to watch Carrie as she swung her sky-blue ball down the lane toward the pins at the other end. With her first roll earning her a six, Carrie went back for another ball as a new song came over the speakers that made her turn to the girls in the booth with her signature, electric smile. “This is that TikTok song we danced to the other day, isn’t it?”

As Ariana Grande began singing her song ‘Santa Tell Me’, Lela nodded, “It was stuck in my head for hours after that.”

“That’s because someone made us redo it until she thought we got it right,” Mick claimed, sending a smirk Vivien’s way as she elbowed the girl’s side.

Vivien rolled her eyes, “What can I say? I’m a perfectionist.”

The night progressed as everyone took turns bowling, but as everyone split off to play games around the arcade, Mick’s thoughts wandered from the loud games and chatter of people as they walked. She was glad that everyone was enjoying themselves - some were battling in a game of Connect 4 basketball, a few were playing Skee-Ball in a line against the wall, and a couple were enjoying a virtual reality game that Mick couldn’t bear trying - it would only result in her getting a migraine anyway. As she wandered through the arcade, she found Royce watching Vivien play a claw machine in the hopes of getting a Care Bear. The young couple was adorable to the birthday girl, reminding her of herself and Butchy when they were younger.

Back when she and Butchy were still early in their relationship, they spent nearly every day together and Butchy treated her like his entire world revolved around her. Mick smiled as she found the look of pure love and contentment on Royce’s face while he watched Vivien play games and emphatically talk about something she had an interest in, her hands waving around animatedly. It was clear to any onlooker that the boy’s world revolved around his girlfriend and Mick was glad that they had such a close bond after only a year together. The very next day would be the young pair’s first anniversary and their first official Christmas as a couple. Naturally, Mick couldn’t be happier for them, but the idea made her think back to her first Christmas with Butchy.

She had woken up on Christmas morning to a cold bed and searched the house only to find Butchy sitting on the floor in front of the tree. He had been dragged out of bed by Miles and Lela, wrapped in wrapping paper and strings with a bow taped to his mouth and a note secured to his shirt. The morning was spent with Butchy recalling how he had ended up in the living room, tied up and cold, but he wasn’t upset about it since it seemed to make Mick, Miles, and Lela happy. They still joked about that to this day, bringing up the idea of doing it to others anytime the holiday began creeping up around the corner. Now, Christmas was right around the corner once again and there was only one new couple they could tease with the idea.

A smile tugged at Mick’s lips as her gaze wandered to the younger couple who were now celebrating Vivien’s victory at the claw machine. They were prime targets and didn’t even know it. Mick’s chocolate eyes flitted from Royce and Vivien to Butchy who was complaining to a laughing Miles about losing a game of Connect-4 basketball to his sister. Mick chuckled and fondly shook her head at the smug smirk on Lela’s face as she taunted her brother mercilessly. Mick had a feeling the trio would be willing to work with her if they knew the idea she had come up with. Miles and Lela hadn’t done something like it in years while Mick was sure Butchy would love to get the chance to recreate his Christmas kidnapping without ending up on the floor with numb legs and a sore backside. Heck, maybe her parents and Carrie would like to get in on it too! Why not make it a family affair? They might have fun with it too.

Mick glanced between the trio and the young couple as a mischievous, plotting smirk formed on her face. Now, all she needed was the right time and a few accomplices.

Tired emerald eyes flitted open, slowly adjusting to the dark, early morning sky that still lingered outside the window across from Vivien’s bed. Vivien let out a long, tired yawn, a shiver running down her spine as the cold air hit her skin, the thin, black, Hellfire Club shirt she wore providing little warmth. Grabbing a hoodie from the floor next to her bed and tugging it over her head, Vivien searched her blankets for her cell phone and the earbuds she always fell asleep with before checking the temperature. The wind that pounded against her window chilled the air to a frigid negative eleven and the forecast said it would only get up to a measly seventeen. With a groan of complaint, the seventeen-year-old slid further down her mattress, hugging the purple Care Bear she had won the day before to her chest and hauling her blankets up to her chin. The longer she could stay in the warmth of her blankets, the better.

After tucking her earbuds back in her ears, Vivien found a documentary about the Titanic on her phone and tried to relax, hoping to get at least another hour of rest before one of her siblings came running in, begging her to get up. Thankfully, her family had delivered their Christmas presents to almost everyone after Vivien’s return from Mick’s birthday celebration, so they didn’t have to go anywhere until they decided to stop by the Birch cabin after lunch, but Vivien would be making the trip to the cabin after opening gifts so that she could give her boyfriend and his family their presents. As Vivien’s mind drifted away from the sunken vessel on her phone to the boy down the street, a smile formed on her face and she paused the documentary long enough to send Royce a text wishing him a good morning and a merry Christmas before turning onto her other side and resuming the film she had begun watching.

By the time Abby came thundering down the hall, slamming Vivien’s door open with a chaotic smile, Vivien was untying the braids their mom had done for her the night before. Without warning, Abby flung a fluffy robe at her older sister and said, “Merry Christmas, bitch!”

Vivien laughed, pushing the robe aside and running her fingers through her hair to loosen the waves left behind by the braids, “Merry Christmas, dipshit.”

“Are you going to get your ass downstairs for presents or do I have to drag you there by the hair?”

Vivien glanced at the clock and sighed, “Is Olly up yet?”

“Yeah.”

“Mom and Dad?”

“Of course.”

“Then give me a few minutes and I’ll be down,” Vivien claimed. “I need to throw on some Christmas-y pajamas and fix my hair.”

Abby’s eyebrow raised as she leaned against the doorframe, “Why?”

“Mom always posts pictures of us with our gifts,” Vivien stated as she wrapped the robe around her. “I don’t want to end up on Facebook or Instagram looking like I just came out of a year of hibernation.”

“Well, you do look like shit,” Abby teased as Vivien pushed herself off of the bed.

Vivien scoffed, taking a look at her sister before saying, “Says the one with yesterday’s makeup smeared all over her face.”

A smirk tugged at Vivien’s lips as Abby’s teasing front evaporated and she stormed into the room, pushing Vivien out of the way so she could take a look at herself in her sister’s bathroom mirror. Smudged eyeliner and eyeshadow puddled around hazel eyes and remnants of pale rouge streaked with lines of lipstick and crusted drool made Abby deflate entirely as Vivien stepped up behind her with a smirk. “I look like a clown and a raccoon had a sick love child,” Abby whined.

“You’re a clown-coon now, Abs,” Vivien said as she leaned against the doorframe and patted her sister’s shoulder with a grin. “It’s a good look for you.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

Abby took another look at herself and groaned before glancing at Vivien’s reflection. “Can I use whatever’s left of your cleanser stuff from the competitions? I don’t think I have enough to get all of this off.”

“Take it,” Vivien shrugged. “I don’t need it.”

Reaching for the little container on Vivien’s bathroom counter, Abby sighed, “You’re a lifesaver.”

Vivien chuckled, an eyebrow raising as she pestered, “I thought I was a bitch.”

“You are,” Abby claimed as she passed her sister on the way out of the older girl’s room. “But so am I.”

Vivien watched her sister sashay down the hall with the container of cleanser in hand and, with a smile, she called out, “You don’t hear me arguing that, do you?” As Abby pushed her bedroom door open, she turned to her sister, kissed her middle finger, and held it out to Vivien as she disappeared into the peach-colored room with her initials on the door. As soon as Abby’s door was shut, Vivien closed hers and headed back to her bathroom to make sure she looked presentable enough for the myriad of pictures their mother would be taking of them opening presents.

After about a half hour of trying to get everyone gathered in the living room around the tree, Chelsea O’Brian finally allowed her children to begin opening the neatly wrapped presents that she had meticulously arranged around the base of the tree. Her husband, Damien, wasn't nearly as picky, sitting with his kids on the floor and tearing open presents with the joy of a child. Once everything was opened and the scraps of wrapping paper were thrown into the trash bag they kept on hand, the family brought their gifts to their rooms or wherever else they belonged before returning to the living room to talk and spend time with each other. After lunch came and went, Vivien stood from the couch and asked her parents if she could run down the street to bring her boyfriend and his family their gifts. Although Chelsea looked ready to argue that they could all go over later on, Damien smiled and told his oldest daughter to go ahead and that they would meet her there after.

Vivien was quick to hug both of her parents, thanking them before taking off for the stairs so she could grab what she needed to bring. Hobbling her way downstairs with the mountain of neatly-wrapped presents in her arms, Vivien grabbed her coat from the alcove by the door, yelled to her parents that she would see them soon, and headed out the door into the frigid December air. Unlocking her car was no easy task with her arms full, but after opening the trunk and setting everything inside, Vivien was glad to feel the air from the heaters beginning to warm as she put the car in drive and pulled out of her family’s driveway. Normally, she would walk to the Birch cabin, but with so many gifts for everyone and the temperature barely gracing the double digits, Vivien would gladly take her Hyundai Kona instead.

Pulling to a stop at the top of the driveway, Vivien beamed with excitement as the front door opened and Bentley came running out, pulling his coat on as he skidded to the end of the walkway. Vivien pocketed her car keys as Bentley rounded the car, the two falling into a hug as Bentley began rattling off some of the gifts he had already received. As Vivien opened the trunk of her car and the pair began filling their arms with presents, Vivien asked, “Where’s Rolls?”

“I was wondering how long it would take for you to ask,” Bentley chuckled. “He’s inside.”

Vivien sent Bentley a curious stare, but the blond simply smiled and ignored her silent question. As Bentley helped close the trunk and began leading the way to the house, Vivien began to wonder just what was going on. Her boyfriend almost always came out to greet her if he saw her car pulling in the driveway and, since Bentley had rushed out to help her, she knew Royce had probably seen her coming as well. It wasn’t like she needed him to come out and help her - she could have gotten it all on her own if need be - but it just wasn’t like Royce to not at least say hello. Bentley pushed the front door open, glancing back at Vivien with a smirk as she followed him into the house. As they entered the living room, Vivien set her stack of presents on the counter near the end of the short hall and greeted the family who were now watching her with smiles. To the brunette’s confusion, however, Royce wasn’t among them.

Vivien eyed them curiously, a small smile forming dimples on either side of her mouth as she watched them begin heading toward the kitchen. “Where are you guys going?” she asked, gesturing to the stack of gifts she and Bentley had brought from her car. “I’ve got your presents.”

Miles chuckled as he passed the teenager, “You’ve got some from us too, kiddo.”

“What?” she asked, an eyebrow raising as her gaze followed Miles into the kitchen.

A solid hand found Vivien’s shoulder, encouraging her to look to her right with bewildered emerald eyes. Vivien’s gaze narrowed at the smirk on Butchy’s face - they were up to something. The man patted her shoulder and said, “You can put the presents under the tree, piccola.”

As Lela and Carrie followed the others into the kitchen, they stopped and hugged Vivien, but said nothing more to her other than a quick, “Merry Christmas,” as they went. Feeling completely lost as to what on earth was going on, Vivien watched as the family went about the kitchen as though nothing had happened. Vivien squinted at them, the round lenses of her glasses adding a glare of light that resembled something akin to a cartoon villain, but as she slowly turned toward the living room to move her presents under the tree, she realized what they were doing.

Under the artificial tree, sitting on a cushion that had been pulled from the couch, was Royce. He was looking none too pleased with his situation - wrapping paper locking his upper arms to his body, strings of ribbon wrapping his wrists together, and a giant, sparkly bow sitting atop his curls. On his shirt, an envelope was secured with a few strips of glittery tape, Vivien’s name scrawled on the front in purple ink. Although Royce was faintly grinning from his spot by the fake pine tree, Vivien could tell by the look in his eyes that he wanted nothing more than to be free of his festive prison.

As she approached her boyfriend, Vivien spoke, a laugh underlying her every word, “What happened to you?”

“My family happened,” Royce claimed with a roll of his eyes. “It’s a tradition, I guess.”

Kneeling on the floor in front of Royce, Vivien inspected the strings keeping him restrained and shook her head, “It’s a tradition to tie up your loved ones and make them sit under the tree until their significant other comes to release them?”

“Something like that,” Royce chuckled.

As Vivien began tearing the wrapping paper from Royce’s arms, Mick yelled from the kitchen, “Read the note first!”

Vivien glanced at the kitchen before turning back to Royce who shrugged as best as he could. With a sigh, Vivien pulled the envelope from Royce’s shirt and carefully opened it, finding a Christmas card inside. Among the signatures of those who were standing in the archway of the kitchen, eagerly awaiting the girl’s reaction, was a short note. “Our gift may not come with instructions, but we hope you’ll take the time to figure him out, ” Vivien read aloud. “We all love you. Merry Christmas.” Turning toward the archway with a fond smile, Vivien chuckled, “I love you guys too.”

As the others began going back to simply hiding in the kitchen, Vivien turned to Royce who was watching her with a hesitant smile. “I have a gift for you,” he muttered. “Well, I have more than one, but there’s one in particular that I want to give you first.”

“That’s so funny,” Vivien laughed as she peeled away at Royce’s confinement. “I have the same for you.”

“Really?” Royce asked. When Vivien nodded and headed for the pile of gifts she had brought, Royce pried the bow from his hair with a smile. Once she returned with his presents, Royce stopped her from handing him one and placed the bow on her head. “You’re the only gift I need.”

Vivien snorted as she beamed up at Royce, “That was so fucking cheesy.”

“I know,” he chuckled as he pulled a long, thin box from under the tree. “It still made you smile.”

“You make me smile all the time,” Vivien stated easily.

Royce smirked, nudging Vivien’s shoulder as he teased, “Who’s the cheesy one now?”

“We get it - you’re both love-sick morons!” Bentley yelled from the kitchen. “Can you two just open the presents and get it over with?”

A shared laugh came from the young couple at the blond’s words, but they were quick to exchange gifts - a long, thin box extending from both teenagers. The pair shared confused grins as they handed each other near-identical, velvet boxes that they both had chosen not to wrap. At Vivien’s mild insistence, Royce opened his gift first, caramel eyes widening as he found a braided, leather bracelet with two round beads and a silver plate in the middle. The beads were purple and orange - amethyst and citrine - and the silver plate read a very simple, but loving message, “From now until forever,” with their initials in a tiny heart underneath it.

Vivien watched in nervous anticipation as Royce silently examined the bracelet. She attempted a grin as he glanced her way, but instead of saying something about the gift, he simply said, “Open yours.”

With a sinking feeling that Royce didn’t care for his present, Vivien plastered a smile on her face and nodded, taking a quick breath in and allowing her gaze to fall on the velvet box in her hands. Unsteady hands gripped the box and pried it open, but as soon as Vivien’s gaze landed on the delicate bracelet inside, all negative emotions drifted away and she was filled with a warmth that seeped into every inch of her skin. The bracelet was very similar to the one she had gotten for Royce. The metal chain was delicate compared to his leather one and the two tiny rocks were the same amethyst and citrine crystals she had picked to symbolize their relationship, but where his new bracelet had a plate with a message on it, hers had their initials etched into the stones. They had mirrored each other’s gifts without knowing.

“We match,” Vivien breathed, meeting Royce’s smile with one of her own.

Royce nodded, offering to help Vivien attach her bracelet as he said, “I guess great minds think alike.”

“I guess so,” Vivien chuckled, her gaze flicking from Royce’s smile to the bracelet he wound around her wrist.

Once her bracelet was secure, she helped Royce with his, the two of them staring at each other with so much love and care that they didn’t seem to notice everyone else slowly filing back into the room and taking up places on the couch. After a while of simply sitting and enjoying each other’s presence, the pair slid away from each other and began handing out gifts to the others. Wrapping paper filled the living room once more, littering the living room in glitter, snowmen, and holographic shreds. After the presents were opened and gratitude was shown, everyone in the house turned their attention to the television where a Christmas movie marathon was playing. As the credits for The Polar Express began rolling on the TV screen, Vivien wrapped an arm around the brothers on either side of her and pulled them close as she wished them a merry Christmas. Bentley wished his best friend the same as he leaned his head on her shoulder, but Royce was the one to kiss Vivien’s cheek and softly say, “Merry Christmas.”

#Nelle's Christmas Prompts 2022 #writing #writing prompt

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